The rogues were silent as they trekked across the forest. Featherpelt would have enjoyed her walk, listening to the birds singing in the trees, scenting the fragrant vegetation, and hearing the occasional rustlings of prey hiding amongst the undergrowth if it wasn't for the frigid wind. Twice she had stopped, much to Niight's annoyance, to fluff out her fur. By the third time, Night had threatened to claw it out if she tried again. She longed to curl up in the warm warriors' den to escape this biting weather. I can't do that now. She thought miserably. I'm a rogue.
The forest seemed to drag on forever. Featherpelt began to wish she had returned to the abandoned badger set. She should be getting ready for leaf-bare, not journeying on a fool's errand. By now she would have a fully stocked fresh kill pile and perhaps a few herbs close by in case she got sick or –
"We're here," Night announced, pausing at an opening in the trees. Featherpelt trotted to his side. They were standing on top of a hill, overlooking the landscape below. Dead moorland stretched out in front of them, stopping at a huge boulder. Then, farther away, she could see the four towering oaks of Four Trees, where she used to attend Gatherings with her clan. A feeling of homesickness struck her. She didn't realize how much she missed her forest until she actually looked at it.
"Nice view," Night commented.
"Yeah," Featherpelt answered, absent mindedly. She strained her eyes, hoping she'd see a trace of Thunderclan. Unfortunately, there were too many trees that still held their leaves, obscuring her vision of home.
With a sigh, she followed Night down the hill, half falling, half running the entire way. When the two cats crashed at the bottom, it was Sun High. "We should have been at Highstones by now," Night grumbled, "We'll have to run if we need to stay on schedule." Featherpelt groaned. Not another run.
"Okay," she remarked, forcing any trace of whining out of her voice. "Let's go!"
The two cats raced across the moorland, their paws crunching the dead brown grass. Featherpelt kept up with Night, enjoying the feeling of running with a companion again. She envisioned herself with her clan mates on border patrol, Falconwing and her leading while Cloudflight lagged behind them, teasing her friends to behave.
A yelp of pain startled her out of her day dream. Night was limping, a thorn protruding from his paw. His pace slowed. Featherpelt tried to match it with his, but Night ordered her to keep going.
"You're hurt," she protested, stopping to get a better look at the thorn.
"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine!" He snarled.
Before Night could say anything, she clasped her jaws around the thorn and pulled it out. The rogue flinched. Featherpelt dropped the thorn on the ground. "Now give it a good lick," she instructed. I sound like my brother.
"What I need is some burdock root," Night remarked, licking his paw vigorously. "It's good for healing."
"How do you know so much about plants?" Featherpelt inquired, curiously.
Night didn't answer. He pretended to be too interested in getting his paw cleaned. Featherpelt sighed. No answers for me today.
"Hey, we're here," Night said, putting his paw down. He winced slightly.
Featherpelt turned around and came face to face with a massive rock. They were on the backside of Highstones! She glanced at the sky. The sun was lower, but they still had a good while before Moon High.
"Let's take a break and hunt for prey," Featherpelt suggested.
Night looked as if he was about to argue but said, "Okay," and dashed to the surrounding bushes.
Featherpelt opened her jaws for prey, something that felt weird at Highstones. Normally, she wouldn't feel hungry, thanks to the gagtastic traveling herbs her brother used to make her eat. I'm glad I didn't have to eat them for this venture.
She drank in the scent of rabbit. The she-cat turned her head slightly to the right and saw thin, brown rabbit nibbling on a root. She slinked towards the boulder and pressed herself against it, grateful for her silver pelt. She blended right into the stone. She froze when the rabbit lifted its head and sniffed the air, anxiously. Featherpelt relaxed when the rabbit returned its focus on the root. She dropped into a crouch and crept closer to it.
Crack! Her paw stepped on a twig. The rabbit bounded away. Featherpelt raced after it, knowing it was no use. She chased it all the way to its rabbit hole where it disappeared under the earth.
"Mouse dung!" she spat.
She walked back to Highstones and gazed wistfully at the huge boulder. Six moons earlier, when Eaglestar died, she would have journeyed here to receive her nine lives. Now, she'd never get that chance. She figured even if she cleared her name, she'd never get to be deputy again.
"Maybe I should ask Starclan who murdered Eaglestar," she muttered. She walked to the front of the boulder and stared into the dark mouth of the cave. She shuddered. No matter how many times she'd gone in there, it still didn't change the fact how scared she was of the place. She forced a paw into the cavern. Then, another. Pretty soon, she was inching her way through the tunnel.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the tunnel opened up into a large space. Sunlight rained through the roof, striking a brilliant blue stone. Blue light speckled the walls, adding color to the dim space.
Featherpelt crouched by the Moonstone and touched her nose to it, like her previous leader did. She almost pulled away from it, for the stone was ice cold. Suddenly, she felt incredibly tired, as if taking her nose off the stone was too much work. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
She was awakened by a warm, green-leaf breeze. She glanced around her surroundings, surprised to see a lush, green forest compared to the practically dead one below her. She could hear prey rustling in the bushes and smelled the scents of many cats. I'm in Starclan! She thought, happily.
"What are you doing here?" a high voice demanded.
Featherpelt whirled around, pelt bristling. Maybe she shouldn't have come after all. She faced the cat before her, preparing herself to explain. Then, she locked eyes with a beautiful russet tabby she-cat with hard green eyes and a white underbelly. Her mind went blank. The cat in front of her was Cherryheart, her mother.
"Cherryheart?" Featherpelt called.
"Featherpelt?" the she-cat asked, her expression softening.
The two she-cats crashed into each other and entwined themselves in an embrace. "I missed you so much!" Featherpelt cried into her fur.
Cherryheart nuzzled her. "I did, too. And your brother. I've been watching you two ever since I joined Star Clan."
Featherpelt glanced around her, hoping to see a glimpse of tortoiseshell fur. "Where's Maplepaw?"
Cherryheart purred in amusement. "Maplepaw is hunting. Probably with Frostfang."
Featherpelt giggled. "I remember she fancied him when they were apprentices." She remembered after he became a warrior, her sister had worked harder than ever to finish her apprenticeship early, so they could be together. Featherpelt flinched at the memory of their final hunting assessment. They were supposed to be made warriors that day.
Cherryheart, sensing Featherpelt's discomfort, changed the subject. She stared at her daughter, her voice hardening into a serious tone. "Featherpelt, it's great to see you again, but you really don't have any business in Star Clan. You're not a clan leader or a medicine cat."
It took all of Featherpelt's self-control not to lash out. "I know that," she mewed in a false calm voice. "That's actually why I'm here. I want to know who killed Eaglestar, so I can return to Thunderclan."
Cherryheart gazed sadly at her daughter. "I cannot tell you, Featherpelt. You'll have to find that on your own."
"But that's not fair!" Featherpelt yowled, stomping her paw in frustration. She knew she was behaving like a kit, but she didn't care.
"Life isn't fair," Cherryheart said, wrapping her bushy red tail around her kit's shoulders. "But we have to take it in stride and keep going."
She lowered her voice. "When you look for answers, remember this: Beware the cat you call friend, or perish to a terrible end."
Featherpelt blinked. "'Beware the cat you call friend, or perish to a terrible end?' What is that supposed to mean?"
"Like I said, I can't tell you. You'll have to figure this one out on your own," Cherryheart said. She started to walk away.
There was something else that Featherpelt had been wondering. "Wait!" she called. Cherryheart paused and to turned to look at her. "Is my father up here?"
Cherryheart shook her head, gloomily. "No, he's not. He still has to fulfill his destiny before he can join our ranks."
"Can you at least tell me his name?" she begged. "Or at least what Clan he's from?"
Her mother gave her a secretive smile. "I'll let you figure that one out for yourself as well." Then, she vanished into a swirling fog.
Featherpelt woke up, surprised to find herself outside. Something was shaking her. She bolted into a standing position and accidentally flung Night back in the process.
"What on earth were you doing in that cavern?" he demanded. "I thought something happened to you!"
"I just – I just, er, wanted to see the, um, Moonstone," she lied, tripping over her words. She didn't want to tell the real reason why she went or what Cherryheart told her. Her mother's warning still echoed in her head. Beware the cat you call friend, or perish to a terrible end. Should she be wary of Night?
Night let out an exasperated sigh. "Now is not the time to take detours. In case you haven't noticed, it's dusk. We should have been half way to the heart of Clan territory by now."
Featherpelt felt guilty. Consulting Star Clan had been a waste of time. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
"Sorry catches no prey," Night grumbled, lashing his tail, irritably. "Come on. Let's see if we can make it by Moon High." He darted off towards the forest.
Featherpelt glanced at the sky and gulped. A full moon peeked out from a wispy, white cloud. Tonight, there would be a gathering at Four Trees at Moon High. The thought of being near all those cats bothered her. What if someone spotted her?
"Are you coming?" Night's voice rang out somewhere from the trees.
Featherpelt gritted her teeth and forced her legs to run, determination filling her limbs. "I need to stop acting a like scared kit and start being a warrior," she mewed as she neared Night. "If I die trying to clear my name, at least I can say I tried." An image of Night popped into her brain along with the warning. "But first, I need to ditch Night."
