by Erin Hunter
“I can’t.” Moth Flight glanced anxiously at the moth. It swooped faster, as though impatient. She couldn’t let it get away again! “I have to go now!”
“You nearly got caught by a dog!” Mouse reminded her.
“I’ll be more careful from now on,” Moth Flight promised.
“You’re no more than skin and bone.” Cow blinked at her. “Stay and let us fatten you up a bit before you leave.”
Moth Flight bit back frustration. I’m only skin and bone compared to you!
The moth flitted suddenly away, heading for the trees beyond the wall. Moth Flight strained frantically, trying to see past Mouse and Cow, who were backing her toward the barn. It’ll go without me! Anger surged in Moth Flight’s belly. She unsheathed her claws. Was she going to have to fight her way out of here?
The moth fluttered toward the wall once more. I’m coming! Moth Flight promised silently. “Please let me go!” she begged. It might disappear at any moment, just like it had done before.
“Let her go if she wants.” Micah’s deep mew echoed across the stone. He slid out from beneath a monster that was sleeping on the far side of the clearing and strode toward them, tail high. Moth Flight felt a surge of joy, tinged with admiration. Wasn’t Micah scared of the monster? It could wake up at any moment!
Micah stopped beside his friends and shook the rain from his whiskers. “Can’t you see that she’s desperate to leave?”
Moth Flight looked at him gratefully. “The moth from my dreams is trying to show me something.”
Micah nodded solemnly, as though he understood.
Cow looked startled. “What if something happens to her?” she fretted. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
“You can’t protect every cat, Cow,” Micah reasoned. “She’s old enough to look after herself. She was traveling alone when we found her.”
“She was nearly ripped to shreds by a dog,” Cow pointed out.
Micah looked at Moth Flight. His bright green gaze burned into hers. “She has to go.”
Moth Flight nodded, her gaze flicking toward the moth. “I have to go now!”
Micah turned his gaze, softening, onto his friends. “I could go with her.”
Mouse’s eyes widened. “Go with her?”
Micah met the old tom’s gaze. “Then Cow won’t have to worry.” He turned to Moth Flight. “Can I come?”
But this is my journey! She opened her mouth, expecting the words to come out, but they froze on her tongue. “Come with me?” was all she could manage.
“You’ve been in my dreams since I can remember,” Micah told her. “I need to find out why as much as you need to find out about the moth and the spirit-cats.”
Moth Flight shifted her paws. “I think I’m supposed to do this alone.”
“Then why did you appear in my dreams?” Micah stared at her pleadingly until she felt caught in his green gaze. “Please let me come.”
She knew what he was feeling—the tug in his belly as his dreams called out to him. Now that he’d seen his dreams become reality, he couldn’t just go on with his life as though nothing had happened. Besides, she felt deep beneath her fur that they were connected in some way. Micah must be linked with the moth and the spirit-cats. Slowly she nodded. “Okay.” The moth lifted into the air and began to zigzag toward the trees. “But we have to leave now.”
“You can’t go, Micah!” Cow’s eyes shimmered with sadness. “You’ve grown up here.”
Micah touched his muzzle to hers. “And you’ve been like a mother to me. I will always remember you. And you’ll see me again.”
Mouse’s eyes were dark. He dipped his graying muzzle. “I’ve heard many cats say that, but once a cat wanders, they rarely come back.”
Moth Flight’s heart ached for the farm cats, but her paws itched to race after the moth. “I can’t wait,” she told Micah. “Cow and Mouse, thank you for everything, but I need to go. Micah, catch up with me.” She glanced at the moth. Its bright green wings were nearly camouflaged against the budding trees. Bounding away, she chased after it, crossing the stretch of stone and leaping onto the wall at the end.
She dropped down into soft grass on the other side and began tracking the moth. She could just make it out as it flitted through the woods. She ducked into their shadow, relieved to be out of the rain.
The moth dropped low to bob over ferns that were just starting to unfurl among the trunks.
Paw steps sounded behind Moth Flight and she glanced over her shoulder. A striped yellow pelt showed between the trees. Micah was racing after her.
He caught up to her, panting. “What’s the rush?”
Moth Flight nodded toward the moth. It had stopped, resting for a moment against the bark of a beech. “Can you see it?”
Micah followed her gaze and his eyes widened. “It’s beautiful! Is that the moth you dreamed about?”
“Yes!” Joy sparked beneath Moth Flight’s pelt. She hadn’t been sure if the moth was real, or just a trick of her imagination. But Micah could see it too!
Micah purred. “So you know what it’s like when your dreams suddenly show up while you’re awake?” His green eyes shone as they met hers.
Before she could answer, the moth took off again, and began to weave once more among the trees. Moth Flight followed.
“Where do these woods lead?” she asked as Micah fell in beside her.
“They open onto a slope where a track leads past another Twoleg farm,” Micah told her.
Moth Flight stiffened. “More dogs?”
Micah’s pelt brushed hers as he trotted beside her. “Don’t worry,” he purred. “I can handle dogs.”
CHAPTER 10
The moth avoided the Twoleg farm, much to Moth Flight’s relief. As she and Micah emerged from the woods, it veered deeper into the valley. Overhead, the clouds were clearing and the drizzle eased. By sunhigh, the sky showed patches of blue, and by late afternoon, the sun shone in a cloudless, blue sky.
A chilly breeze whisked around Moth Flight and, despite the sun burning her pelt, she began to feel cold. They hadn’t eaten all day, but Moth Flight was frightened to stop and hunt in case they lost sight of the moth. Her belly rumbled and she fluffed out her fur to keep warm. As if sensing her discomfort, Micah padded closer and they shared each other’s warmth as they followed the moth.
It led them over field after field and, following the setting sun, headed closer to Highstones.
Weariness dragged at Moth Flight’s paws as they padded into the shadow of the great peaks. As the sun disappeared behind them, Moth Flight blinked, trying to adjust from bright sunshine to shade. The grass was becoming coarser beneath her paws. As they approached the foot of Highstones, it gave way to bare, rocky soil dotted with patches of heather. The land sloped steeply ahead of them and the moth lifted higher, swooping toward the sheer cliffs above.
Micah halted and shook out his pelt. “We can’t keep following it without rest.”
Moth Flight glanced back at him. “But we have to! What if we lose it?”
Micah climbed onto a smooth, wide rock and sat down. His pale pelt looked colorless in the dusky gloom. “It’ll come back in the morning. It’s come back before.”
Moth Flight’s hackles lifted. “We can’t stop now!”
Micah looked toward the moth. It was fluttering against the cliff face. “How are we going to follow it up there? We don’t have wings.”
“We’ll find a path.” Moth Flight scanned the sheer rock anxiously, looking for ledges and tracks they could follow. Her heart sank as she saw nothing but the steep face of Highstones. “There must be a way.”
The moth’s wings were hardly visible against the shadowed stone. Moth Flight had to squint to make them out. “It’s stopped moving!” Her pelt rippled with surprise as she realized it had settled. Was it tired too?
Micah jumped from his rock and followed her gaze. His breath billowed in the chilly evening air. “Is that a hole in the cliff face?” he murmured.
Moth Flight narrowed her eyes. Blackness surrounded the moth, as though it had settled on the lip of a gaping mouth. The opening was square, with sharp corners like the holes in Twoleg nests. Excitement fizzed beneath her fur. “It’s an entrance!”
“An entrance to what?” Micah sounded wary.
“I don’t know, but this must be what it wants to show me!” Moth Flight scrambled quickly up the slope, loose stones cracking beneath her paws. As she neared the entrance, the moth lifted once more into the air and began to spiral upward. “Wait!” Moth Flight called to it, her belly tightening. “Aren’t you going to show me what’s inside?”
But the moth kept circling upward until Moth Flight saw it lift above Highstones, where the purple sky was streaked orange by the setting sun. Moth Flight strained to see the moth as it flitted higher until it was no more than a speck against the evening sky. Then it disappeared. She curled her claws against the stony ground, her heart aching. “Can you see it?” she called desperately to Micah.
“It’s gone.” Stones rattled behind her as Micah climbed the slope.
“It can’t be!” Moth Flight stared at him as he reached her, bereft.
He smoothed his tail across her spine. “It’s shown you what it wanted to show you,” he murmured gently. “You don’t need it anymore.”
Slowly Moth Flight turned her gaze toward the gaping mouth in the cliff. “I think I have to go in there.” Dread hollowed her belly. She remembered the choking fear she felt in the moorland tunnels. “I don’t like the dark,” she whispered shakily.
“I’ll be with you,” Micah promised.
Moth Flight shook her head. “You dreamed of me,” she reminded him. “You didn’t dream of moths. I must go alone.”
“Why?” Micah blinked at her.
Moth Flight felt her paws trembling. “I’m not sure, I just know I must.” Certainty sat in her belly like hunger.
Micah’s ear twitched. “Okay,” he meowed briskly. “But you’re not going in there until you’ve had something to eat.”
Moth Flight dipped her head, grateful to have him with her. She was starving. Perhaps that was why her paws were trembling so much. As he turned, she followed him down the slope.
“I’m sure I smelled mouse dung around here.” Micah began sniffing around the edge of the smooth, wide rock he’d stopped on. His ears pricked. “This is going to be easy.” As he spoke, a small shape darted from beneath the rock and raced across the stony ground. Mouse! Micah leaped, landing on it before it had run a tail-length. He snapped its neck and Moth Flight smelled the warm scent of blood.
Her mouth watered and she began to scan the slope, looking for her own prey.
“You eat this one.” Micah dropped the mouse at her paws.
“I can catch my own,” Moth Flight protested.
“I know,” Micah agreed. “But not now. Save your strength for whatever’s inside that cave.”
As he padded quietly away, his nose twitching, Moth Flight glanced up at the gaping mouth in the cliff face. She swallowed. The moth wouldn’t have led her anywhere dangerous, surely? She pushed the thought away. I’m meant to do this, she told herself, no matter what. Crouching, she ate Micah’s mouse, her belly growling for more as she finished. She was pleased to see Micah heading back with two more mice swinging from his jaws. He glanced at the bloodstained rock where her meal had been and dropped his fresh catch on the space. “You were hungry,” he purred. He pushed one of the mice toward her and hooked the other toward himself.
“Are you sure?” Moth Flight felt a prick of guilt. He’d walked just as far as she had today. He must be starving too.
“I can catch more while you’re exploring your cave.” He took a mouthful, his whiskers twitching with pleasure.
“You’ll wait for me?” she asked tentatively. The sky was dark now. Stars were showing in the blackness. The chilly wind had grown colder. Frost was beginning to sparkle on the rocks and the stone beneath her pads was so cold that it made her paws ache.
“Of course I’ll wait for you!” He looked up from his mouse sharply. “Why would I leave?”
She shrugged. “It’s cold. I thought you might want to find shelter.”
“We’ll find shelter together, once you get back.”
Moth Flight felt her throat tighten with gratitude. “Thank you,” she croaked.
She took longer to finish her second mouse. She wanted desperately to see inside the cave, but fear was tugging her back. Her heart pounded in her chest. It’ll be so dark! Swallowing her final mouthful, she tried to steady her breathing. Micah was washing beside her, his mouse long gone. She felt soothed by the easy, rhythmic strokes of his tongue. He’ll be waiting for me. The thought comforted her as she glanced up at the cave.
“Are you ready?” His mew made her jump.
Moth Flight nodded, her eyes wide.
“You’ll be fine,” Micah promised. They stood up together and he padded beside her as she climbed up the slope. Scrabbling the last few tail-lengths, she leaped onto the lip of the cave. The stone was smooth beneath her paws. Micah jumped up next to her and peered inside. “It’s a good thing you’ve got whiskers,” he muttered. “You’re going to need them to tell where you’re going.”
She glanced into the darkness. “I’ve got a nose too, and ears,” she murmured, trying to reassure herself. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know.” Micah caught her eye, his gaze solemn. She felt his breath on her muzzle as he leaned forward and touched his nose to hers. “But be careful.”
“I will.” Turning away, Moth Flight padded into the cave.
It felt huge—high and wide enough for a Twoleg. She sniffed the air tentatively, but there was no living creature in here except her. All she could smell was stone and stagnant water. She padded deeper into the gloom, straining to see how far it reached into Highstones. Blackness lay ahead and, as she padded onward and the weak starlight faded behind her, she realized that this was a tunnel, not a cave. As darkness swallowed her, she waited for fear to flare in her belly, but none came. She felt curiously calm, her paw steps steady on the smooth stone floor.
A chill reached through her pelt. This sunless place felt colder than a snowbound night on the moor. She opened her mouth and let the damp air bathe her tongue, tasting the tang of stone as freezing air filled her chest.
The ground sloped beneath her paws. Stone touched her whiskers on one side and she let it guide her as the tunnel began to bend. She was blind here, though her eyes were wide open, straining to see any glimpse of light. But, with blackness on every side, she could only follow the twists and turns by touch as the tunnel spiraled down into the earth. She was surprised to feel peace spread from her belly through every hair on her pelt. It was as though the stone welcomed her and was leading her deeper into its heart. She listened, ears stretched, and heard a distant drop of water resound on hard rock.
How far must I go? As she began to wonder if the tunnel would lead on forever, her whiskers suddenly tingled and she smelled crispness in the dank air. She quickened her step. Fresh air lay ahead! Had she reached the other side of Highstones? Or perhaps she had circled back to the hole where Micah was waiting. Expecting any moment to turn a corner and find herself beneath a wide moonlit sky, she stepped instead into a cavern glimmering with watery starlight. She could hardly make out the walls, but she recognized it at once. Heart quickening, she scanned the cave and saw the huge rock jutting at its center.
Just like my dream!
She looked up and saw the hole in the roof. Stars flickered beyond and she could see the moon sliding into sight.
Moth Flight glanced expectantly at the rock. She knew what would happen next.
As the moon lifted higher, the rock suddenly sparked into light.
Moth Flight narrowed her eyes against the glare.
The great stone was glittering like countless dewdrops sparkling in sunlight. The cave shimmered in its glow.
Are the spirit-cats here? Moth Flight g
lanced around eagerly. But nothing moved in the cave. She was the only cat there.
Pushing away disappointment, she padded to the spot where the gray she-cat had lain, and pressed her belly to the icy floor. Tucking her paws beneath her, she tried to imagine the she-cat’s warmth still lingering in the stone. Her pelt tingled with excitement. This is where I was meant to come! Closing her eyes, she stretched her muzzle forward and touched her nose to the sparkling rock.
CHAPTER 11
Light flared through her, tingling in every hair. Moth Flight opened her eyes, aware of paws scuffing the stone floor around her. She sat up, blinking. She was no longer alone. By the light of the moonlit stone, she could see the shimmering pelts of spirit-cats all around her. They were staring at her.
They can see me! Joy swelled in Moth Flight’s chest. At last! They can see me!
She met the gaze of a tabby tom, who dipped his head to her, then looked at the tortoiseshell she-cat beside him, who closed her eyes slowly, nodding a greeting. Moth Flight’s fur pricked along her spine. These cats were showing respect! Didn’t they know she was just a young WindClan cat who hadn’t even learned to hunt properly yet?
A glittering gray pelt moved toward her and she recognized the face of Gray Wing. “You’re here!” she breathed, excitement fizzing in her paws.
Gray Wing stopped a muzzle-length from her nose. “Welcome, Moth Flight.” His eyes glowed with pride. “You’ve come at last.”
“Welcome.”
“Welcome.”
“You’ve come at last.”
Murmurs of greeting rippled through the gathered cats.
What did they mean? Moth Flight’s heart quickened. “Come at last?” she echoed, puzzled.
A white she-cat padded forward and stopped beside Gray Wing. Her pelt glistened with starlight and her green eyes glowed emerald as though lit by ancient wisdom. Moth Flight found herself drawn into the white cat’s gaze, breath catching in her throat.
“I’m Half Moon.” Affection warmed the she-cat’s mew. “We’ve been waiting for you.”