Roots of Earth ~ A Ninjago Fanfiction

Chapter 89: A New Prophecy

(Art by SmirkyCat)

Eagle Talon had spent the entire day working: from dawn to dusk, he was determined to find some task or another to occupy himself with, so that his mind would have little chance to fester over the most recent nightmare. From volunteering for the early dawn patrol around the eastern end of the Moon Tribe's territory, to joining a hunting team searching for snow hares in the northern peaks, and even to assisting the younger students in cleaning out the elders' den and nursery caves. He ate only enough to no longer feel hungry, since the time it took to sit and chew his food let his mind wander, which was precisely what he didn't want. Idle conversation with a tribe-mate helped every once in a while, but his fellow cats seemed to sense the dark cloud hovering over his mind, and he was left alone for the most part—which was fine by him.

Exhausted to the point his mind felt fuzzy, sore and aching from the end of his nose to the tips of his dark-striped tails, Eagle Talon was inwardly pleased that he'd done such an excellent job tiring himself out all day. When he headed into the sleeping den that night—after staying up late to drag old bedding and bones outside and tossed them away—he felt confident that he would have no problem falling asleep tonight.

That is, until he actually curled up in his nest.

Anxiety made his stomach turn. He felt tired, but not sleepy. Restlessness made him toss and turn. It was the age-old curse of one meeting the day's worth of insecurities and fears in the shadow of bedtime after having what felt like a successful day. It was absurd; he was utterly exhausted and he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, so there was no reason for him to not fall asleep right this instant!

Yet on the feeling came: it kept his heart beating at a semi-quick rate and his eyes open, roving about the dark. It got to the point where Talon's body would involuntarily convulse with fear-induced shudders and he'd unsheathe his claws, expecting a life-like, nightmarish vision to come slinking out of the ink-black corners of the cavern. At least thirty other cats were sleeping with him, but never once had he felt so alone.

Hours passed like this. He had no idea how many it was before he finally decided enough was enough. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself, sitting up. I won't get any sleep like this, expecting another nightmare the second I close my eyes.

Soundlessly, Talon crept past his tribe-mates, out of the sleeping den, and through the tunnels that led him into the main caverns. From there he padded down the entrance tunnel. A guard—Mist Rise, he noted—was taking the night shift, sitting guard at the opening of the tunnel and keeping watch over the still mountainside. The larger cat's ears pricked forward curiously when Talon emerged from the tunnel, but he offered no response when Talon muttered, "Just taking a walk." He only nodded and watched as Eagle Talon padded away, down the rocky hillside.

The mountains were somewhat quiet in general, but they were utterly lifeless at night. Shadows enveloped Eagle Talon's lithe bakeneko figure as he walked. He made his way down the mountainside quietly, disturbing few pebbles. He looked up at the starlit sky, and he wondered if dead cats he loved were really watching him all the way up there. He wondered what they might be thinking of him now.

Finally he reached his destination: a variety of semi-large stones set up in an irregular pattern marked the Moon Tribe's graveyard. It was kept in the shelter of a large hillside that shielded the area from the worst of exposure, in the case that a hungry predator might come prowling by. Aside from the many stones that stretched out for yards, there were no signs to mark the graveyard. The Moon Tribe cats always detected this place by scent—the scent of the mourning, some would say.

Eagle Talon made his way through the rows of graves. They were all small, since every Moon Tribe cat was buried in their bakeneko form, unless they were pure nekomata. Even if a cat passed away in their human body, it would naturally revert to its feline form. The crooked stones marking each one stuck up from the ground like awkwardly-grown gray vegetables, now dark shadows standing out in the pale ground. He sniffed the air, in case any predators were nearby, but he could scent naught but the chilly night air. Content the territory was safe, he sought out one grave in particular.