by Erin Hunter
Moth Flight sat down, letting her belly bulge. “They’re due in a moon.”
“Micah’s?” Wind Runner tipped her head.
“Of course.” Moth Flight purred. Did her mother think they could be anyone else’s?
“Let’s hope they take after you.” Wind Runner lowered her voice. “Micah was a little too sure of himself.”
Moth Flight met her mother’s gaze calmly. “And you’re not, I suppose.”
Wind Runner’s eyes widened with surprise. Then she purred. “My little kit has grown claws.”
Moth Flight glanced down at her belly. “I need to,” she mewed. “I’ve got my own kits to protect.”
Wind Runner swished her tail, pride warming her gaze. “You must be tired after your journey. Let’s get you settled in your nest.”
Moth Flight got to her paws, suddenly realizing how weary she felt. She snatched a look at Jagged Peak and Holly, hoping that they’d be less prickly once they saw that she was here to stay. They avoided her gaze, their pelts ruffled.
Wind Runner nudged her toward her den. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
Moth Flight purred. It felt good to be home and Wind Runner was pleased to see her. The warmth in her mother’s mew reassured her that, from now on, everything was going to be fine.
Moth Flight rolled a wad of borage leaves into a bundle and slotted them into a small gap in the gorse at the back of her den. She relished the coolness here. Outside, early greenleaf sunshine was scorching the camp.
The scent of herbs washed over her and she thanked StarClan that she’d stopped feeling queasy. The kits were due any day and her belly was so swollen that she felt as clumsy as a toad. She sat back on her haunches and looked approvingly at the array of herbs poking out from between the branches. “We’ve done well.” She blinked at Reed Tail.
The silver tabby tom sat down and tucked his tail over his herb-stained paws. “You’ve taught me so much.”
In the moon since she’d returned to the WindClan camp, Moth Flight had shared with him all she’d learned from the other medicine cats. When the kits came, she guessed that there would be times when she’d be too busy to tend to her Clan and she wanted him to be prepared to take her place. And so, she had spent nearly every day with him, scouring the moor for herbs, and teaching him their names as they gathered them for her store.
She glanced at her nest now, wondering when the kits would come. She had woven extra heather to make it larger, and lined it thickly with moss. She shifted as a twinge in her belly made her wince.
Reed Tail stiffened. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Moth Flight told him. “The kits are just fidgety today.”
As she spoke, fur brushed the gorse entrance.
Rocky padded into the den, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. “My chest is feeling a bit tight.” He looked at her hopefully. “Can you spare some catmint?”
Moth Flight heaved herself to her paws and crossed the den. She pressed her ear against his flank and listened for bubbling inside his chest. He was breathing clearly. She looked at him sternly. “You’re as fit as a flea. I can’t waste catmint on healthy cats. I’d have to travel to Twolegplace to fetch more.”
“I could fetch some for you,” Rocky offered. “I know Twolegplace well. I used to live there, remember?”
“That’s a kind offer.” She wouldn’t put it past the old tom to travel to Twolegplace in search of catmint. “But let younger cats fetch the herbs. Your paws are too stiff to climb the wooden walls.”
Rocky’s eyes brightened. “Does catmint help stiff paws?”
Moth Flight’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “No, but I can give you some comfrey. Reed Tail and I picked some fresh leaves this morning.”
Rocky wrinkled his nose. “No, thanks. The stiffness doesn’t bother me that much and I—”
Moth Flight didn’t hear the rest of his words. Pain pulsed through her as a spasm gripped her belly. She gasped, swaying.
“Are the kits coming?” Reed Tail raced to her side.
“I think so.” She curled her claws into the ground, bracing herself against the pain. “Send someone to fetch Pebble Heart,” she puffed. “He knows what to do.”
Reed Tail hared from the den and left Rocky staring at her nervously.
“Do you want to lie down in your nest?” he asked hesitantly.
“No!” Moth Flight glared at him as another spasm crushed her belly. She began to pace, a growl rolling deep in her throat. Focus on your breathing. She remembered the advice she’d given Juniper Branch and tried to concentrate on each breath. What if she wasn’t ready? What if the kits got stuck? What if they died like Emberkit? Her thoughts began to whirl. She stopped and stared at Rocky, panic sparking through her pelt.
Rocky blinked at her. “I’ll get Wind Runner.” He ducked out of the den.
Moth Flight moaned, shocked by the pain gripping her belly. She began pacing again, not sure what to do with herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting still. Moving distracted her. But she felt weak with the pain. She lay down as another spasm shuddered through her body. Then she scrambled to her paws, frightened at feeling so helpless.
“Moth Flight!” Wind Runner’s mew sounded at the den entrance. Her mother hurried into the den and pressed her muzzle to Moth Flight’s cheek. “Don’t be scared,” she murmured. “Everything’s going to be okay. Dust Muzzle’s on his way to fetch Pebble Heart. And Slate will be here in a moment. We’re going to look after you until Pebble Heart arrives.”
Moth Flight leaned against her mother, relief swamping her. “I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered.
“Just keep pacing until you need to lie down.” Wind Runner drew away and looked into Moth Flight’s eyes. “You’re not the first cat to have kits. You will be fine.”
“But it hurts!” Moth Flight was startled by the intensity of the pain.
Wind Runner’s eyes glistened with sympathy. “You won’t remember it afterward, I promise.”
“That doesn’t help me now!” Moth Flight snapped back. Another spasm was coming. She closed her eyes as it swept over her. When it had passed, she gazed blearily at her mother. “How long will it take?”
“Not long,” Wind Runner soothed. “Not long at all.”
Paw steps sounded at the den entrance and Slate hurried into the den. “How’s she doing?” she asked Wind Runner.
The Wind Clan leader shot her an anxious look. “The kits will be here before Pebble Heart,” she breathed.
Moth Flight stiffened as she heard her mother. “How do you know?”
Slate didn’t give Wind Runner time to answer. “Are the spasms that close together?” She turned to Moth Flight. “Lie down and let me feel your belly.”
Wincing as another spasm pulsed through her, Moth Flight lay down. She growled with pain, hardly feeling Slate’s paws on her belly.
Slate nodded briskly. “Your kits feel strong. I think they’re eager to come out and meet you.”
Pain scorched through Moth Flight. Stronger than before. “Wind Runner!” She reached a paw toward her mother.
“It won’t be long now.” Wind Runner crouched beside her.
“I need a stick to bite on,” Moth Flight panted as she fought the urge to yowl with pain.
“I’ll get you one.” Slate ducked out of the den.
She returned a few moments later with a tough heather stem.
Moth Flight took it from her, relieved as she bit down hard with the next spasm. The wood crunched between her jaws and she moaned as her belly convulsed with such power that she thought she would die. Micah! She focused her thoughts on him, determined to stay strong. The image of his steady gaze shone in her thoughts. He seemed to be silently urging her on. Groaning, she pushed with all her strength.
“Here’s the first kit!” Slate ducked behind her and lifted a small squirming bundle.
Moth Flight blinked at it, surprised, and spat out the stick. “Is it okay?”
Her body convulsed again.
“Another one!” Slate sounded jubilant.
As a spasm seized her once more, the world seemed to blur around Moth Flight. She was aware only of pain and the muted voices of Wind Runner and Slate. In her mind, Micah’s green gaze glowed steady and strong. The heady scent of her new kits washed her muzzle and then, suddenly, the pain stopped.
“Four kits.” Wind Runner’s proud mew broke through the fog.
Moth Flight turned her head, blinking, and saw four squirming bundles beside her. Instinctively she pulled them close to her belly, reaching down to lap them dry. Two of the kits had yellow splotches on their soft white pelts. One was striped yellow all over, just like his father. “His fur!” she looked up at her mother. “It’s the same color as Micah’s!” The fourth was white, like Moth Flight. “I wonder what color their eyes will be.” The kits wriggled against her, their eyes still closed.
“You’ll have to wait a few days before you know.” Wind Runner’s mew was barely a whisper as she leaned down and lapped Moth Flight’s cheek. “Well done. I’m very proud of you.”
“Is she okay?” Pebble Heart’s anxious mew sounded at the den entrance. He nosed his way into the den, puffing to catch his breath. Heat radiated from his pelt.
Slate stared at him. “Did you run all the way?”
Pebble Heart was gazing at the kits. “I’m too late?”
“I’m afraid so,” Wind Runner told him apologetically. “But I’m glad you came. You can make sure Moth Flight and the kits are okay.”
“They look fine.” Pebble Heart’s eyes glowed.
Dust Muzzle stuck his head through the entrance. “He outran me!”
Moth Flight blinked fondly at the ShadowClan medicine cat. “I did it!” Pride pulsed through her, stronger than any she’d felt before. “Aren’t they beautiful?” She hugged the kits closer, joy washing over her as she felt them warm against her belly. Micah’s green gaze flashed once more in her mind. Thank you, Micah.
“They’re lovely,” Pebble Heart agreed. He leaned down and sniffed them. “They seem strong and healthy.”
Wind Runner tipped her head, her eyes glittering with worry. “Will you stay tonight, just in case?”
“Of course,” Pebble Heart promised. “And I’ve spoken to Dappled Pelt and Cloud Spots. They’ve agreed to visit WindClan regularly in case anyone is injured or sick while Moth Flight’s recovering.”
Moth Flight lifted her head. “That’s kind, but there’s no need. I’ve shared everything I know with Reed Tail. He’ll be able to look after WindClan.”
Pebble Heart blinked. “You’ve been busy!”
“I just wanted to be prepared.” Moth Flight suddenly realized that, for the past moon, she’d been thinking about the future again. The grief that had dragged her into helpless despair after Micah’s death had finally eased as she planned a new life around her kits. And now they were here, each one perfect, and her heart felt as full of love as it had been when Micah was alive. She purred loudly, joy leaping in her chest as her kits purred with her. She suddenly remembered her conversation with Sun Shadow.
I will never feel like I’ve gained more than I’ve lost.
Maybe not. But you will come to value what you still have, and what you may have in the future.
She looked at Pebble Heart. “When you go home, tell Sun Shadow he was right.”
CHAPTER 27
Moth Flight dreamed.
Warm wind tugged her fur as she raced upslope and the coarse grass grew soft beneath her paws as she neared the moortop. She stopped as she reached the crest. Meadows rolled below her, stretching toward forest, and a river sparkled in the distance as it disappeared among the trees.
Where am I? This wasn’t the moor.
The scent of prey washed her muzzle. A rabbit was grazing calmly on the grass a few tail-lengths ahead. Moth Flight imagined carrying it home to her kits. They were almost old enough for their first taste of fresh-kill. She swallowed back a purr as she imagined Bubbling Stream’s eyes lighting up at the sight of it. Spider Paw would be first to beg for a taste. Blue Whisker would hang back shyly, but Honey Pelt would make sure she had a piece before he’d take a bite.
Her heart ached with love for her kits as she thought of them. They were perfect. Even Spider Paw’s extra toe, which he’d been named for, was adorable.
She dropped into a hunting crouch and began to stalk silently through the grass. The rabbit didn’t even twitch as she neared. This is going to be an easy catch.
Yellow fur flashed at the edge of her vision. Moth Flight jerked her muzzle around, her breath stopping in her throat as she saw Micah padding toward her. The rabbit, still blissfully unaware, hopped lazily away. Moth Flight let it go, her gaze fixed on Micah.
“Can you see me?” She hardly dared speak. No one ever heard her in her dreams. The last time she’d dreamed of Micah, he’d been wandering in mist, unable to see her. But this time Micah’s eyes were fixed on her, sparkling green in the bright sunshine and filled with love.
As he neared her, he quickened his pace until his scent bathed her. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding. Was she really going to speak with him? His whiskers grazed her cheek as he reached her.
“I have missed you so much.” His words were soft in her ear.
She purred, rubbing her cheek fiercely against his. “I thought I’d die without you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” He drew away and looked at her, his eyes shining. “I’ve seen the kits. I’ve watched you with them. You are a wonderful mother.”
Joy surged beneath her pelt. “Aren’t they gorgeous? They remind me so much of you. Honey Pelt even washes his paws the same way you did.”
“Keep an eye on Blue Whisker,” he fretted. “She’s so shy. Don’t let the others push her around.”
“They won’t,” Moth Flight promised. “They’re protective of her. Especially Spider Paw. He won’t let Slate’s kits near her because she’s scared of them.”
Micah frowned. “They haven’t hurt her, have they?”
Moth Flight purred. “No, of course not. But she can’t understand why such big cats act like kits. I keep telling her they’re still kits. I don’t think she believes she’ll be that big too in a few moons.”
Micah’s green gaze darkened. “I wish I were there.” Grief edged his mew.
It caught hold of Moth Flight, twisting her heart. “So do I.” She hadn’t felt anger since she’d left ShadowClan’s camp, but rage flared in her belly now. “It’s not fair! Why did you have to die? In a dumb accident!”
Micah sighed and rested his muzzle against hers. “It was my destiny.”
She pulled away, blinking at him. “Did you know all along?”
“No, but I see that our destinies were only ever meant to cross for a short time.” His eyes glistened with love. “Aren’t we lucky they did? Now you have our kits.”
“But I want you too!” Moth Flight couldn’t push away her resentment.
Micah gazed at her gravely. “You must travel alone from here on. This is your path. But I will always be with you.”
Her vision swam with grief. “How?”
“I will be in your thoughts and your heart and your dreams,” he murmured. “You will see me in the kits and if you need me, you only need to close your eyes.”
Moth Flight’s throat tightened. Is that enough? She touched her nose to his softly. It would have to be.
Around her, the meadows began to grow hazy. Micah’s pelt grew pale, light showing through.
“Don’t go yet!” she begged.
“You’ll see me again,” he promised, his mew growing faint.
“Micah!”
“Someone is coming to visit you.” She could barely hear his mew as it faded into echo. “
You must help her. I’m depending on you.”
“Who?” She spoke into darkness as the dream faded.
Jerking awake, she lifted her head. The kits fidgeted at her belly, asleep in the starlight that filtered through the gorse.
Moth Flight’s heart ached with longing, but warmth enfolded her. I will always be with you. As she remembered his words, his scent lingered on her tongue. With a gasp, she recognized the meadows in her dreams—StarClan’s hunting grounds! He’s in StarClan. A purr rumbled in her throat. Now I know that we will never be far apart.
“Go faster!” Bubbling Stream’s fur spiked with excitement as she clung to Storm Pelt’s shoulders.
Storm Pelt bounded across the tussocks and Bubbling Stream mewled with delight.
“Be careful!” Moth Flight watched with wide eyes from the sunny patch of grass outside her den.
Beside her, Slate purred. “She’ll be fine,” she reassured Moth Flight.
“She’s only a moon old!” Moth Flight worried. “Aren’t badger rides dangerous?”
Blue Whisker nestled tighter against her belly. “I don’t ever want a badger ride,” she breathed, staring in alarm at her sister as she bobbed on Storm Pelt’s back.
Moth Flight tucked her tail over Blue Whisker, relieved that at least one kit was staying close.
Spider Paw was crouching in the sandy hollow. Silver Stripe crouched beside him, while Black Ear paced in front, advising him on his stance.
“Hindquarters lower,” the black-and-white tom-kit told him. “And keep your tail still or the prey will hear you coming.”
Silver Stripe fidgeted impatiently. “Can we jump yet?” she begged.
“Not until you’ve got the perfect crouch,” Black Ear told her sternly.
“Is this right?” Spider Paw pressed his chin closer to the ground and stared fiercely ahead.
“Quite good,” Black Ear conceded. “Pull your hind paws in tighter, or your takeoff will be clumsy.”
Where’s Honey Pelt? Alarm flashed through Moth Flight. She scanned the camp, relief swamping her as she caught sight of his yellow pelt as he burrowed under the heather wall on the far side of the camp.