Signs Of The Moon Book 2: Moon High

Prologue

Rain fell hard against the forest floor, the usual cover of leaves almost completely gone in the change of seasons. For a while, the drumming of the downpour and the occasional thunder clap were all that could be heard echoing through the shadowy woods. That was until the sound of mewling split through the air. Through the undergrowth, a lynx point queen stalked. A young kit was dangling from her jaws, fussing from the uncomfortable sensation of rain soaking its downy fur. The lone she-cat had traveled far beyond her territory, on a mission to bring her kitten to a set destination. There was a cat who lived within this forest who would be happy to meet it. Someone who would be better suited to care for this kit than she was.
Warily, the molly traveled through the moistened leaf litter, ears swiveling and alert to every sound. Her instincts were sharp, and her will to flee stronger. But the she-cat had to press on for the safety of this kit. The territory she was on was dangerous, owned by an enemy clan. And though she was exempt from rivalry, a warrior would not hesitate to pounce on her should they catch her prowling around without permission. The molly was well aware of the risk she was taking coming here, especially in the rain. And with a young kit no less. But she had to do this. She couldn't bare to keep this kitten any longer. It was too painful, too much of a reminder of the mistakes she had made.
A scent suddenly stopped the she-cat in her journey. She glanced at a row of blackthorn bushes ahead in the darkness, illuminated by a flash of lightning streaking across the late night sky. The smell was coming from just past them. It was one of familiarity, one the she-cat knew very well. Treeclan. She wondered how she was going to get inside the camp that lay just behind the thorny wall.
Before she could figure out a solution to her problem though, the she-cat first had to hide the kit. The lynx point molly turned around and walked away from the bushes in search of a hiding spot. Nearby, she could see a hollowed out a maple tree, the perfect size to store her precious cargo. Carefully, the molly approched and slipped her kit inside the hole, promising to return soon with a friend. The kit let out a tiny cry, its tiny body trembling. In response the molly purred, licking the kit a few times to help settle it down. Once it was quiet, she hurried to where she came from.
Back by the bushes, the she-cat began to walk around barrier, looking for the camp entrance. She came across an elm tree which reeked of clan scent. This had to be the way in. The tree's low branches made easy access for any skilled climber to come and go. But the she-cat wouldn't dare attempt to go through there. She was a terrible climber. And it wasn't like she could just walts into the heart of Treeclan unannounced. She would have to find another way to reach the cat she'd come to see.
Turning, the she-cat continued along the outside of the blackthorn barrier, thinking of a new solution to her problem. Maybe she could sneak in? Or perhaps it would be easier to find a guard and ask them to bring the cat she was looking for out?
Suddenly, a new smell met her nose a few paces onward, one even more familiar to her. Excitement flooded her senses and she carelessly rushed towards it. On the other side of the thinned out blackthorns she saw a familiar gray pelt. She hesitated a moment before meowing out for him.
"Wolfheart!"
At the sound of his name, the tom's attention turned barrier, eyes flashing green in the darkness. He stared for an extra moment before turning away, only to return a heartbeat later, gracefully leaping from a tree. He stood tall in front of the she-cat, head held high. His usual long flowing coat was soggy from the rain, clinging to his sides revealing him to be thinner than normal. Leaf-fall was coming to a close, giving way to a harsh Leafbare. It was clear to see the tom was already suffering from it.

"What are you doing here?" Wolfheart hissed, his voice harsh and low. The she-cat took a step closer to him. Her eyes were shining with hope.

"I need to show you something. Come with me," the molly insisted.
Wolfheart hesitated a moment as she began to walk off. The molly looked back at him, beckoning him with a wave of her plumed tail. In response, Wolfheart let out a soft sign then padded after her to the hollow tree. The she-cat poked her head back into the tree's trunk, retrieving her kit. Then she turned around and dropped it at Wolfheart's paws as gently as she could. Wolfheart blinked down at the tiny scrap in front of him, clearly confused.
"She's yours," the lynx-point molly told him, her voice monotone. Wolfheart bent down to sniff at the kit. He nudged her gently with his muzzle, causing her to stir. The kitten let out a tiny squeal, attempting to lift her head. She wiggled in Wolfheart's direction, seeking refuge once more from the rain. Sympathetically, he cupped the kit with his paw, guiding her and pressing her against his warm belly.