“Of course,” Earth replied. He knew where the softest moss grew, down on the banks of the little stream at the edge of camp.
As he carefully scraped moss off the rocks by the stream, choosing the freshest and thickest-looking pieces, his fur tingled with anxiety. He’d been trying not to think about it, but today was the day.
Today he would leave the Sisters forever.
Ice had been so sick lately that concern for her had pushed the thought of leaving to the very back of Earth’s mind. Since she had first begun retching miserably in the nursery, she’d been feverish and nauseous, confused and glassy-eyed and calling out for their mother. Moonlight had stayed by her side, and the other Sisters had taken over Moonlight’s duties, doing all the things Moonlight usually did to keep their camp running smoothly.
With Moonlight preoccupied with Ice, and Hawk resting her injured leg, no cat had taken over Earth’s training. I’m not ready, he thought. He knew he’d freeze again if he had to fight. His hunting was okay, he supposed, if he could concentrate—but he didn’t feel confident about that, either.
He couldn’t see spirits. How can I travel without spirits to guide my steps?
And he kept trying to meditate, to speak to the land the way the Sisters had told him, but there was no connection. He heard nothing. How can I protect the land without a connection to it?
Picking up the moss to carry back to Moonlight, Earth made up his mind. He would talk, calmly and reasonably, to Moonlight about it. She’d see that he couldn’t leave yet.
“Thank you, Earth,” Moonlight meowed when he reached her. “That’ll make Ice’s bed nice and comfortable.”
Earth dropped the moss in front of her and, as she bent to pick it up, cleared his throat.
“What is it?” Moonlight asked, looking up.
Earth swallowed hard. “I don’t think I’m ready to wander,” he blurted out. “I can’t—”
“You are ready,” his mother interrupted. “You have to be.”
“I’m not a good fighter,” Earth argued. “I haven’t seen the spirits.” He hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t be sent away yet? If I could stay with the Sisters just one more moon …”
Moonlight sat down, looking serious. “That’s not the way things are,” she told him. “We’ve learned that it’s bad luck for a tom to stay past his sixth moon, bad for the Sisters and bad for the tom.”
“But—” Earth began to object.
“Once, when I was young, a tom who was afraid to leave the Sisters was allowed to stay a few moons longer,” Moonlight went on, her eyes shining with sorrow. “Cloud, who led us then, thought it would do no harm. But that icetime was the hardest the Sisters had ever faced. Fierce snow drenched our fur. Frozen earth broke our claws. There was no prey, and Sisters died. And in the leafrise, when the tom left, he was weak and vulnerable, too used to the Sisters protecting him. He ended up choosing to go to Twopaws to be their everkit.”
A cold shudder went down Earth’s spine. “I don’t want that to happen to me,” he meowed. He knew toms sometimes did choose to live in the nests of the Twopaws—long ago, all the ancestors of the Sisters had—but it just felt wrong to him. He didn’t want them touching him with their long furless paws.
“No,” Moonlight agreed with a comforting purr. She bent to press her cheek against his. “It won’t happen to you. You’re a smart and resourceful cat. But you must go out into the world and become the tom you’re meant to be.”
“I guess,” Earth conceded, as Moonlight pulled away again. “But I don’t like the idea of being on my own. Look what happened when Hawk and I ran into those rogues. What if I go onto another cat’s territory again? When I’m alone?”
Moonlight’s tail twitched. “You have to give yourself more credit,” she told him. “You’re going to be a strong, capable cat, I can see it. You’re a lot like your father, you know, and he was a cat well suited to the world.”
Earth felt a stab of interest. Moonlight had never said much about his father. But right now he needed to make her see how he felt. “I don’t feel like I’m going to be that kind of cat,” he admitted.
A faint, fretful mew came from the sick den behind them, and Moonlight got to her paws. “Earth, it’s going to be fine. But I don’t have time to talk about what kind of cat you might be in the future. Not when I have a sick cat to take care of right now.”
“Okay,” Earth muttered. He watched her head back into the sick den, a terrible ache in his chest. I wish she loved me like she loves my sisters, he thought bitterly. Moonlight seemed all too ready for him to leave.
Strong and capable, he thought, staring down at his small yellow paws. No matter what Moonlight said, he didn’t feel strong and capable at all.
Chapter 4
The Claw Stars were pointing toward the setting sun. It was time.
Earth followed Moonlight toward a low hill at the edge of the pine forest, where they could see the sky. His paws felt heavy and stiff, and there was an anxious ache in his belly. I don’t want to do this.
When they stopped, the she-cats gathered around Earth, just as they’d done for Chestnut and Snail two moons before. All except Ice, who was still in the sick den.
Earth glanced longingly back over his shoulder toward the camp. I should have said good-bye. Was he ever going to see his sister again? What if she died of this illness, and he never knew? Shivering at the thought, Earth wanted to run back to camp, to share tongues with Ice one last time. But it was too late now.
Moonlight pressed her nose gently against Earth’s cheek. “I will miss you, my son,” she meowed softly. “I wish you happiness.”
Earth shut his eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of his mother. Don’t make me go. He wanted to yowl it, but who would listen?
Sunrise nudged her nose against his cheek, and her meow was rough with sorrow. “I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered, and Earth pressed his face to hers, unable to speak for a moment.
“Tell Ice good-bye for me,” he whispered back at last.
His sister stepped away and, one by one, each of the Sisters approached him, touched her nose or cheek to his, and murmured a few last words.
“You’ll be fine,” Hawk murmured reassuringly. “Follow the scents and you’ll find plenty of prey.”
Petal nosed his ear gently. “I believe that Stream will go with you,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
Pain shot through Earth’s chest; he couldn’t answer her. Everything would be different if Stream were with me.
When every cat had said her good-bye, Moonlight came forward again and bowed her head to Earth. “This is the beginning of your adventure,” she meowed. “Our love goes with you as you set off on your endless wander. Be an honorable cat, and the land will guide your paws. You are a guardian of the land now. You must listen to what it tells you.”
Earth knew what he was supposed to say—I will—but the words seemed to be stuck. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t meow. How can I listen to what the land tells me? I can’t hear it!
There was a long pause. All the cats were watching him. Furze and Snow glanced at each other, looking worried.
Moonlight stepped closer to murmur into his ear, “Be strong. Don’t worry—if your courage wavers, an ancestor will help you to safety.”