Mooneye: A Warriors Character Story

Dawn

Moon felt his fur shift uncomfortably as a chilly draft pushed into the small alcove he was nested in. The drone of the crashing waterfall had long since been tuned out as he tossed and turned in his sleep, long gangling legs awkwardly protruding from the sparse nest that lined the dip in the rock. 

Finally, he sat up and flicked his tail in irritation as a claw of hunger stabbed at his belly, wincing softly. There had not been enough prey to go around the night before, despite their best efforts.

"Hungry too?" A small voice asked from somewhere beside him. The waterfall reflected glints of silver over the dappled she-cat that was looking up from her own dip in the rock.

"We are all hungry," she went on after a pause, then sighed, "The Tribe is always hungry. Always." The dappled To-Be drew her tongue over a deep wound in her shoulder. Seeing it drew the warmth back into Moon's limbs as he shook a feather from his fur. 

We are always hungry. Isn't there anything more?

Compared to the rest of the Tribe cats, he was massive, as was his brother, Mud That Clouds River. His brother, he remembered, was much burlier than he. That was why, where Moon That Watches Stars had been training to be a Prey Hunter, Mud had been training to become a Cave-Guard. 

Now, more than ever, he felt the itching anticipation in his paws. Before, he would have been able to slip out of the cave and roam around, let the rocks guide him until he grew weary again, and then would travel back. It would clear  his mind, give him something else to focus on besides the gnawing hunger. He could not imagine any life where he could not feel the wind through his whiskers, or the freedom to simply run. But no cat had been allowed out of the cave without at least two others accompanying them, not since the rogues had started to lay siege on them again. 

Two moons ago, the Prey Hunters had been attacked at the edge of a precipice after downing an eagle. He recalled it with a sharp pang of guilt, replaying the moment in his head.

It had been a frosty morning, and the snarling cats had struck unexpectedly, demanding the prey the Tribe cats- Root Dried In Sun, Jag Where Eagle Nests, and himself, had caught. They refused, and as a result, Root had been pitched over the edge, their prey taken, and Jag and himself were wounded. Ever since, it was a constant gamble on whether or not they would be fighting for their life, every time they left the cave. The rogues were smart, smarter than average, and were known to patrol or even watch the Tribe and wait. Every cat smelled faintly of fear-scent. It was a stench they had become blind to by now.

"Take Moon That Watches Stars, Mud That Clouds River, Lily Where Rain Gathers, and Ant That Crawls On Rock," a soft voice murmured, rough and rugged from the years of use it had gone through. Stoneteller.

Peering from the small alcove, Moon glanced over the gathering of cats in the center of the cave, before slipping out of the shallow cave and padding into the throng of cats that were slowly accumulating. At the front stood a small cat, half as tall as him, with burning blue eyes and a dirty grey flecked pelt, worn thin from the rock. 

"What are we doing?" Moon asked, pale green eyes avoiding Stoneteller's, afraid to look the smaller tom directly in the eye, lest he be able to hear his thoughts.

And what thoughts could he read that would be worth hiding? He inwardly snorted. 

By now, the light tones of dawn were casting the cave in a shimmering show of flickering violet and pink lights.

"You will return to the place where Root was slain and you will hunt there once more. The Tribe cannot afford to miss any pieces of land during this cold season," Stoneteller informed him pointedly, "Go, now, we cannot waste time. Our cats are hungry, and there are kits to be fed."