Chapter 8

    “Moon was visited by the Night Cat in his dreams,” Hemp had explained. “Ever since the vigil over the Old Crone. The dreams are not clear, but they’ve been all similar.” His claws were kneading at the grass all of them were sitting on, the only indicator that he was as agitated as his brother. Missy had been worried, for a second, that there had been another murder-by-fox, but the Brothers’ had denied it before Moon had started explaining why they’d visited her.

    “I see you in every single one,” Moon had admitted, tail lashing and fur bristled. He had looked miserable, as if all the weight of the world was resting on his hunched shoulders. “I think- you had to be there, yesterday, to see the dead kit. I don’t know why. But a-a cat is the reason, and it will kill again if it is not caught.” Missy had been spooked at the admission, but then she had shaken herself as if to dispel a nightmare, and she and the Brothers had sat down under a shaded tree and talked some more. After a terse explanation by Hemp about how Moor had sometimes had vision-like dreams before, Missy had decided that they should go and visit Nettle and have the seer hear out Moon. They’d gone to the hideout first, but the old cat had been nowhere in sight. They’d ended up asking Zurih and Moor for directions towards Nettle’s den. Moor, fur in disarray and his Owner-woven collar an even worse mess, had directed them towards his own den.

“And only two dens left of it,” he’d said, and so they’d found themselves at the Star’s garden with a disgruntled elder sister.

    “That does indeed sound like a seer’s dream,” Nettle had agreed, and then frowned. “And a powerful one at that; have you ever thought of becoming a seer of the Great Cats, brother? But that doesn’t matter right now. Let me think it over and meet tomorrow at the hideout so that you can hear my verdict.”

    That had been yesterday. Today, Missy and the Brothers were gathered around Nettle and Echo. “…and you believe the dream?” Echo asked, anxious. The sister still looked haunted.

    Missy nodded. “It makes no sense that a fox would know how to disgrace a cat,” she meowed, thinking back to her Owner’s magic box. “Foxes don’t understand us enough to know that, just as we don’t understand our people enough to warn them. Unearthing the Crone, the color of Russet’s fur — that had to be a cat.”

    “With black and orange fur,” Hemp added, flicking his tail in acknowledgment of Nettle’s discovery. Who closed her eyes in resignation, her black-white fur rippling as she took a breath. Opening them again, she addressed all of the gathered cats.

    “…discovering the truth this will be dangerous, I hope that you’re aware of that, sister. Brothers. No cat will take such an accusation lightly. Do you even know where to start?”

    Missy thinks back to the carrion scent, and towards Cloud-Dreamer’s constant presence. “At the cemetery,” she meows, resolutely.