Moth Flight's Vision

by Erin Hunter

“What happened?” Moth Flight raced to Blue Whisker’s side. The kit was unconscious.

  Slate blinked, her gaze cloudy. “I’m not sure. I just closed my eyes for a moment and—”

  Honey Pelt cut in. “She wanted to climb to the top.” He looked up at the tall rock. “She wanted to stand where Wind Runner stands when she talks to the Clan.”

  Moth Flight sniffed Blue Whisker’s pelt, feeling for heat that betrayed swelling.

  Blue Whisker blinked her eyes open. “Moth Flight?”

  Moth Flight’s throat tightened. “Where does it hurt?” she asked sharply.

  “Nowhere.” Blue Whisker’s breath was shallow.

  “Are you sure?” Moth Flight ran her paws over the kit’s white-and-yellow pelt, feeling for injuries.

  Blue Whisker struggled to her paws, swaying slightly. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

  Slate stared at the kit. “She was just winded.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Moth Flight’s heart pounded in her ears.

  Blue Whisker met her gaze. “I’m sure.”

  Relief flooded Moth Flight. She jerked her muzzle toward Slate. “Why weren’t you watching?”

  Slate coughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling too well.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Frustration sparked in Moth Flight’s fur. Was she supposed to do everything? Take care of Rocky and watch her own kits? She swallowed back anger. Perhaps she should have asked Reed Tail to tend to Rocky. Or swallowed her pride and asked Wind Runner to watch the kits.

  Angrily, she turned on Blue Whisker. “What were you doing climbing the rock? Didn’t you realize it was dangerous?”

  Honey Pelt padded in front of his sister. “She saw me do it yesterday,” he told her.

  Moth Flight blinked. “You climbed it yesterday?”

  “I did too,” Spider Paw lifted his chin.

  “And me,” Bubbling Stream told her.

  Moth Flight stared at them. Why hadn’t she noticed?

  “It was while you were at the Gathering,” Honey Pelt told her, as though reading her thoughts.

  “Did Rocky let you?”

  “He said we were too timid. And that Micah would have had us hunting on the moor by now.” Spider Paw glanced guiltily toward Rocky’s den. “He promised to catch us if we fell.”

  Bubbling Stream padded closer. “He wouldn’t let Blue Whisker climb. He said she wasn’t ready.”

  “So she decided to try it today.” Moth Flight glared at Blue Whisker.

  Blue Whisker’s eyes glistened. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

  Honey Pelt puffed out his chest. “I didn’t see her climbing, or I’d have stopped her.”

  But you didn’t! Moth Flight shifted her paws. Why should you? He was only a kit. He wasn’t responsible for Blue Whisker’s safety. I am!

  “Is she okay?” Her mother’s voice took her by surprise. Moth Flight glanced over her shoulder and saw Wind Runner stalking across the hollow. Reed Tail and Spotted Fur hurried after her.

  “She’s fine,” Moth Flight told them. “Just winded.” As she spoke, she was suddenly aware of heat pulsing from Slate’s pelt. She sniffed at the she-cat, and smelled the sour scent of fever. “You should go and rest in your den,” she told her softly, guilt pricking beneath her pelt.

  Slate didn’t argue, but padded slowly away.

  Moth Flight jerked her muzzle toward Blue Whisker. “Go and play with your littermates.” She watched her kits head away, tails drooping.

  Spotted Fur trotted after them. “Why don’t we have a game of moss ball!” he called.

  Honey Pelt turned, his gaze brightening. “Can I be on your team?”

  “I want to be on Spotted Fur’s team!” Bubbling Stream raced toward the golden tom and clambered onto his shoulders.

  Spider Paw glanced at Blue Whisker. “You can be on my team,” he purred. “We’ll beat them easily.”

  Moth Flight dragged her gaze away, gratitude soothing the tension in her belly. Thank you, Spotted Fur.

  Reed Tail’s mew pierced her thoughts. He was watching Slate disappear into her den. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I think she’s caught a chill,” Moth Flight guessed, still distracted by her kits.

  “I’ll check on her,” Reed Tail offered.

  Moth Flight flicked her tail toward Rocky’s den. “Will you finish putting comfrey on Rocky’s joints first? I’ve given him catmint to lift his spirits, but he’s still in a lot of pain.”

  “Of course.” Reed Tail padded away.

  Moth Flight looked at Wind Runner.

  Her mother had sat down and was staring at her. “It’s not easy, is it?”

  “What?” Moth Flight stiffened. A snarl edged Wind Runner’s mew.

  Her mother eyed her coldly. “Making sure every cat is safe and well.”

  Moth Flight prickled. “What are you trying to say?”

  “You think I’m wrong for rejecting SkyClan. But I’m doing it because I think it’s best for all of us.”

  “It wasn’t best for Tiny Branch.” Moth Flight lifted her chin. “He died.”

  She saw Wind Runner flinch, but the WindClan leader didn’t soften her gaze. “I presume you tried to save him.”

  “Of course!”

  “But you couldn’t.”

  “I might have, if Clear Sky had allowed Acorn Fur to ask for help earlier.” Moth Flight flattened her ears. “Or if you hadn’t tried to stop us from going to help.”

  “Really?” Wind Runner narrowed her eyes.

  “I don’t know!” Moth Flight snapped. “I never will. And neither will Clear Sky.”

  “That’s how it feels to be a leader,” Wind Runner growled. “You make the best decision you can. But you can’t be sure how it will turn out. I’ve seen what Clear Sky is capable of. I fought in the Great Battle. Not because I wanted to fight, but because not fighting would have destroyed the Clans.”

  “How?” Moth Flight didn’t understand. How could peace hurt any cat?

  “Clear Sky was hungry for power. We would have lived like prey if we hadn’t stood up to him.” Wind Runner’s tail twitched. “No cat should live like prey.”

  “Clear Sky’s changed.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I watched him grieve for his kit.”

  A low growl rumbled in Wind Runner’s throat. “I’ve grieved for kits. Do you think it softened me?”

  Moth Flight glared at her mother. “I wish it had!”

  Wind Runner thrust her muzzle forward, rage blazing in her yellow eyes. “Every decision I make is for the good of the Clan. You may think I’m wrong, but never dare to question me again!”

  Moth Flight ducked just in time to avoid her mother’s lashing tail as the WindClan leader turned and stalked away. Moth Flight watched her go, her belly hollow. How could Wind Runner stand by her decision to shun SkyClan? A kit had died! She curled her claws into the sandy earth. I’d do the same again and again. A leader might let a cat die, but I’m not a leader; I’m a medicine cat.

  She glanced across the clearing and guessed that Reed Tail must still be dressing Rocky’s aching joints. She’d see to Slate herself. She padded toward the she-cat’s den and ducked inside.

  Slate was alone, lying in her nest, eyes closed. Moth Flight leaned close, shocked by how much heat pulsed from the she-cat’s pelt.

  Slate’s eyes flickered open, then she coughed. Jerking, she struggled to her paws, the cough taking hold of her and shaking her body. Moth Flight reached out a paw to steady the she-cat as she rocked. How had Slate grown so ill so quickly? Moth Flight widened her eyes, adjusting to the gloomy den, and saw stains darkening the moss beneath Slate’s chin.

  Blood!

  Moth Flight backed away, heart lurching.

  Fur brushed the gorse entrance and she turned to see Reed Tail slide in.

  “That cough sounds bad.” The tom blinked at her, stiffening as he read her gaze. “What is it?”

  “Redcough,” M
oth Flight breathed.

  Reed Tail glanced at Slate, stiffening. “Do you have any bark left from when Rock—”

  Moth Flight didn’t let him finish. Her thoughts were whirling. “The sap dried up and flaked off a moon ago. She needs fresh.”

  “But how do we get it?”

  “I’ll go.”

  “But it’s in SkyClan territory.”

  “So?” Moth Flight looked at him. “Last night I tried to save Tiny Branch’s life.”

  “But he died.”

  “I know he died!” Moth Flight snapped. “But Clear Sky saw us trying to save his kit. That must count for something. Even to a Clan leader!” Bitterness rose in her throat. She pushed past Reed Tail. “Look after Slate. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She raced from the den and charged across the tussocks.

  “Moth Flight!” Spotted Fur called from outside her den.

  She skidded to a halt, impatience burning in her paws. “What?”

  Honey Pelt and Bubbling Stream were wrestling on the grass while Blue Whisker and Spider Paw poked through the freshly stocked prey pile. Gorse Fur, Storm Pelt, Dew Nose, Fern Leaf, and Swift Minnow were back in camp. They lounged at the edge of the clearing, sharing a rabbit.

  Spotted Fur headed toward her. “Where are you going?”

  Moth Flight scanned the camp for Wind Runner before answering. There was no sign of the WindClan leader.

  “You look worried.” Spotted Fur stopped in front of her.

  “Slate’s got redcough,” Moth Flight told him. “I’m going to get some of that bark I got for Rocky when—” She stopped, her breath catching in her throat. She swayed on her paws. When Micah died. She’d been so worried about Slate, she hadn’t thought about it until now. Grief wrenched her heart.

  “I’m coming with you.” Spotted Fur brushed against her flank, steadying her.

  Moth Flight looked at him, feeling suddenly sick. I can’t go back there. “Wind Runner will be angry if we cross the border,” she murmured numbly.

  “So will Clear Sky if he catches us.” Spotted Fur’s gaze didn’t waver. “We just have to make sure we don’t get caught.”

  Moth Flight stared into his amber eyes. Her thoughts slowed. She steadied her breath. She must get the bark. Slate needed it.

  She lifted her chin. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Spotted Fur turned and called to Swift Minnow. “We need to gather herbs! Can you look after the kits?”

  Swift Minnow stretched languidly. “Of course!”

  Gorse Fur clambered to his paws, kicking the remains of the rabbit toward Storm Pelt. “I’ll watch them,” he offered. “I can show them some hunting moves.”

  Bubbling Stream looked up from the prey pile excitedly. “Will you take us up to the burrows?”

  “Not today,” Gorse Fur purred.

  Moth Flight’s heart was fluttering like caught prey. Micah! How could she go back there? Panic spiraled in her mind. “Come on.” She needed to run before fear crippled her. She raced for the camp entrance and burst onto the moorside.

  Spotted Fur’s paws pounded behind her as she raced down the slope and shouldered her way into the heather.

  “Moth Flight!” Spotted Fur called. “Use the trails!” She headed blindly for his voice, crashing through the purple branches until she glimpsed him. Ducking behind, she followed as he swerved among the stems.

  As she exploded onto the grass, she pushed hard against the earth, her gaze fixed on the forest where the SkyClan border edged the moor. She was panting by the time they reached it, her pelt spiked by the wind.

  “Slowly!” Spotted Fur pulled up.

  Moth Flight spun, her paws skidding on the smooth grass.

  “Let’s be careful,” Spotted Fur warned.

  “Nothing’s going to stop me from getting the bark!” Moth Flight glared at him. Micah would understand how she felt! He’d been with her last time she’d made this trip. Her heart swelled with fresh grief.

  Spotted Fur glanced along the border, his nose twitching as he scented for patrols.

  He stiffened, his gaze flashing toward striped fur showing amid the ferns. “Wait,” he hissed. Crouching, he pulled himself toward the tabby pelt.

  Moth Flight watched him, frustrated by the delay.

  Suddenly his shoulders loosened and he straightened. “It’s only Willow Tail.”

  As he spoke, the WindClan she-cat padded from the fronds.

  “What are you doing here?” Spotted Fur asked her.

  Willow Tail sniffed. “I’m just making sure those prey-stealers haven’t crossed the border again.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve come to get bark for Slate.” Moth Flight marched past her. “She’s got redcough.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Willow Tail sounded excited.

  “Wait.” Spotted Fur ducked in front of Moth Flight, blocking her path. “We can’t all go rushing onto SkyClan’s land. They’ll think it’s an invasion.” He tipped his head, his gaze resting on Willow Tail. “We need you to wait here. If we don’t come back, fetch help.”

  Willow Tail’s eyes widened eagerly. “Good idea.”

  Moth Flight headed through the ferns. Well done, Spotted Fur. The last thing she needed was another cat under her paws. A pointless mission would keep Willow Tail busy.

  She headed through the forest, forcing herself to remember the route Micah had taken last time they were here. She recognized a fallen log and scrambled over it, her heart twisting inside her chest as she pictured Micah leaping it with ease.

  “Are we going the right way?” Spotted Fur hissed under his breath. The golden tom’s ears were pricked, his mouth open for warning scents.

  “Yes.” Moth Flight pushed on, each paw step feeling heavier than the last until the trees thinned and she saw the hollow where Micah had died.

  Her paws turned to stone. She stopped and stared down, grief swamping her. A few shards of splintered branch still flecked the ground.

  Spotted Fur’s pelt brushed hers. “Slate needs that bark,” he murmured.

  She dragged her gaze toward the highest branches of the tree at the center of the glade. “Up there,” she murmured hoarsely. “We need to get it from the top, where the bark is the softest.”

  “You wait here.” Spotted Fur bounded down the slope and leaped for the trunk. Heaving himself into the branches, he disappeared among the leaves.

  Moth Flight watched the tree tremble as he climbed. Her heart seemed to beat in her throat. Sorrow—as suffocating as the day Micah had died—pressed in her chest. She stood motionless, as though her paws had sprouted roots and fixed her to the earth.

  She shook out her pelt. Mourning Micah again won’t change anything. He’d be proud I came here. This felt like his tree now.

  The leaves rustled and Spotted Fur’s pelt showed beneath them. A moment later, he was scooting down the trunk, strips of bark clasped between his jaws. He hurried toward her. The tang of sap sent thorns of pain jabbing through her heart. It was the scent she’d smelled as Micah died.

  Spotted Fur nudged her from the glade. His eyes were half closed, streaming from the pungent scent. Moth Flight led him through the woods, staying close to guide him past stray brambles and rutted earth.

  As they neared the border, she scented heather and quickened her pace.

  Paw steps scuffed the earth behind them. Moth Flight froze.

  “Where are you going?”

  A hostile mew made her turn. Nettle was staring at her across a patch of blueberries. Birch and Alder flanked him, their eyes narrowed aggressively.

  Spotted Fur spat out the bark, his hackles lifting. He pushed in front of Moth Flight and faced the SkyClan cats. “She’s come to get medicine for a sick Clanmate.”

  “I thought Wind Runner didn’t recognize SkyClan anymore.” There was a sneer in Nettle’s mew. “Yet you still come to steal from us.”

  Moth Flight stepped forward. “We’re not stealing! We�
�re taking bark, not prey! Just let us go. Slate might die without it!”

  Alder curled her lip. “No one is allowed to help SkyClan, but SkyClan must help you?”

  “We should all help each other!” Rage pulsed beneath Moth Flight’s pelt.

  Birch tipped his head, his eyes glittering with curiosity. “Don’t you agree with Wind Runner?”

  Of course I don’t agree! Moth Flight held her tongue. She wasn’t going to betray her mother, or her Clan.

  “Just pretend you haven’t seen us,” Spotted Fur reasoned. “It makes no difference to you whether we take the bark or not.”

  Birch narrowed his eyes. “I’m sick of WindClan telling us what to do.”

  Alder padded closer. “You’ll come back to camp with us. And don’t try to run. Clear Sky will only send a bigger patrol to fetch you. He’ll want to know what you’re doing on our land.”

  “But my Clanmate’s sick!” Moth Flight fought the urge to rake the gray-and-white she-cat’s nose.

  “Let’s go with them,” Spotted Fur breathed softly in her ear. “Don’t forget that you tried to save Clear Sky’s kit. He might be more understanding than these fox-hearts.”

  Nettle glared at him. “Stop whispering and get moving.”

  The SkyClan cats fell in beside them and began to herd them deeper into the forest.

  Moth Flight glanced at the bark left behind on the forest floor. Its precious sap would be leaking into the earth. But, if she explained everything to Clear Sky as quickly as she could, there might be enough left to take back to Slate.

  She quickened her pace.

  “You seem to be in a hurry,” Alder snarled.

  “I just want to sort this out and get home,” she snapped back. She spotted the bramble barrier on the slope ahead. Birch had to break into a run to duck through the gap before her.

  As she emerged into the hollow, faces turned to stare.

  Sparrow Fur got to her paws. Blossom blinked from the shadow of a yew.

  Moth Flight’s gaze flashed toward the earth where Tiny Branch had died last night. Leaves had been scattered over it, but dark bloodstains still showed between.

  She felt suddenly weary, her paws as heavy as stone. All she wanted was to help the cats around her, but every paw step seemed to lead her into another nettle patch.

  “Clear Sky’s in his den.” Alder jerked her nose across the clearing. “Spotted Fur can wait here while you speak to him.” She steered Moth Flight up the short, steep slope and through the trees beyond. “Clear Sky?” She paused and called into the shadows.