Moth Flight’s Vision

Chapter 16

“Moth Flight, look at me!”

Silver Stripe’s mew sounded behind her. Shaking leaf crumbs from her paws, Moth Flight turned impatiently to watch the pale gray she-kit.

Silver Stripe was wedged into the prickly gorse halfway up the wall of her den. Black Ear was tugging at his sister’s tail, while White Tail was trying to climb up beside her.

“Please, get down!” Moth Flight marched across the freshly dug floor of her den and snatched Silver Stripe’s scruff in her teeth.

It was Wind Runner who had suggested hollowing out a den especially for Moth Flight. Storm Pelt, Reed Tail, Fern Leaf, Holly, and Dew Nose had spent days digging out a dip beneath the stems and tearing away branches to shape a cave in the heart of the thickest part of the gorse wall. The floor was wide enough for three nests. One for herself, and two for any sick cats who might need to be watched. The branches would make a great place to store the plants she collected. She could slot her herbs among the spiny stems and keep them sheltered from the weather.

Moth Flight dropped the kit on the ground. “If you want to climb, go outside.”

Silver Stripe blinked at her. “But Slate told us to stay with you.”

Moth Flight glanced back at the piles of leaves she’d collected. She was hoping to sort them and store them among the gorse stems at the back of her den before sunhigh.

Black Ear followed her gaze and hurried toward the piles.

He began sniffing them, sneezing as he reached a pungent heap and scattering leaves across the floor of the den. “Sorry!”

Moth Flight swallowed back frustration. I have to tell Slate that she needs to find another cat to watch her kits now that I’m a medicine cat. Moth Flight loved the kits, but she had new responsibilities now.

In the days since the full-moon Gathering, she’d gradually become used to the strange new way her Clanmates treated her.

When she disappeared into thought, Swift Minnow no longer teased her. When she brought plants back to camp, Wind Runner was the first to ask her if she’d found something interesting. Jagged Peak nodded a respectful greeting whenever she passed him. Only Slate didn’t seem to have noticed the change, still lost in her grief for Gray Wing.

The entrance rustled as Reed Tail poked his head in. “Do you need any help?”

“Can you look after these three?” Moth Flight grabbed Black Ear’s tail and hauled him away from the herbs.

“Swift Minnow’s just back from hunting,” Reed Tail told her. “I’ll see if she can watch them.”

White Tail frowned. “But we want to stay in Moth Flight’s cave!”

“Kits need fresh air and sunshine.” Reed Tail slid into the den and nosed the gray-and-white tom-kit toward the entrance.

“Wait!” Black Ear was sniffing the herb piles again. “What’s this?” He wrinkled his nose at a lush green leaf.

Moth Flight’s ears twitched. “Horsetail.” I think. She was having trouble remembering all the names.

Silver Stripe pushed past her brother and sniffed it. “What’s it for?”

Moth Flight frowned. “It cures twisted tails,” she guessed.

Reed Tail blinked at her sympathetically. “It’s chervil and it’s good for bellyache.” He padded past Silver Stripe and hooked a leaf with his claw. “But the root is better than the leaves. They aren’t really strong enough.”

Moth Flight’s pelt grew hot. “Of course!” She remembered now. Reed Tail had told her yesterday when he’d taken her out collecting herbs. Why couldn’t she remember the simplest things?

White Tail stared at her with wide eyes. “I thought you were our medicine cat?”

“Maybe Reed Tail should be the medicine cat,” Silver Stripe suggested.

Moth Flight shifted her paws uneasily. Perhaps the kit was right. How was she ever going to learn everything she’d need to know? She wondered for a moment if the spirit-cats had made a mistake choosing her. I’m too featherbrained.

Reed Tail shooed White Tail toward the entrance and nudged Silver Stripe and Black Ear after them. “Go and find

Swift Minnow. Tell her I sent you.”

“It’s not fair,” Silver Stripe complained.

“We were only helping,” added Black Ear.

As the kits disappeared, grumbling, from the cave, Moth

Flight looked gratefully at Reed Tail. “You know so much more than me about herbs and healing. Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps you should be WindClan’s medicine cat.”

Reed Tail gazed at her fondly. “The spirit-cats chose you for a reason. I think they wanted someone who could do more than remember herbs.”

“Like what?” Moth Flight felt lost. She was up to her ears in plants and names and had no idea how she’d ever know the right herb in an emergency. What if a Clanmate died because she couldn’t remember? Panic sparked in her paws.

“You’ve only just begun,” Reed Tail told her softly.

Outside, Holly’s yowl rang across the clearing. “Where do you three think you’re going?”

“The kits!” Reed Tail headed for the entrance. “They’re probably trying to sneak out of camp again.” The gorse swished as he squeezed out of the den.

Moth Flight looked back at her herb piles, and began pushing the scattered leaves back together.

A cough sounded outside.

Rocky.

The old tom had been coughing for a few days. Moth Flight glanced at the empty nest at the side of the den, freshly woven from heather by Storm Pelt and Eagle Feather. It would be cozier than Rocky’s nest in the long grass. Even though newleaf was warming the moor, the nights were still chilly and the wind relentless. Perhaps a few nights’ sleep in the shelter of her den was all Rocky needed to recover. She hoped so; the tansy she’d given him last night clearly hadn’t worked and she didn’t know any other herb that might cure him.

“Rocky!” Moth Flight slid out of her den and crossed the clearing.

Rocky was weaving slowly among the tussocks, heading for the prey pile. He paused as she stopped beside him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not bad. I thought I might feel better if I had something to eat—” Rocky broke off, coughing. His shaggy shoulders heaved with the effort. Struggling to catch his breath, he looked at her, his gaze clouded with exhaustion.

Moth Flight pushed away worry. She must focus on curing Rocky; fretting wouldn’t help. Her thoughts quickened. He’d been heading for food. A hungry cat is a healthy cat. Her mother used to say that when she returned home with prey for Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” Rocky shrugged. “I just thought a small bite of shrew might help.” He gazed at her bleakly.

“I think you’d better move into my den,” Moth Flight mewed briskly. “There’s a nice, clean nest for you and it’ll be warm.” And I can keep an eye on you. His lack of appetite worried her. Perhaps I need to give him more tansy. She wished Dappled Pelt were here. Or Pebble Heart. They might know what to do. I bet even Micah knows more than me. As she steered Rocky gently toward her den, she thought of the yellow tom. Her pelt prickled with warmth. She’d be seeing him before long, at the half-moon gathering at Highstones. She paused and waited for Rocky to squeeze into her den. Following, she pointed her muzzle to the heather nest. “Rest there while I fetch you more tansy.”

As Rocky climbed in and began to knead the heather, Moth

Flight turned toward her herbs. Perhaps I gave him the wrong one. She sniffed at the curly green leaves she’d shredded for him last night. It was definitely tansy. She felt sure. She grabbed a bunch between her jaws and crossed the den. Dropping it on the edge of Rocky’s nest, she leaned close and felt heat pulsing from his pelt. He has a fever. “Eat these.” She pushed the tansy closer and headed back to her herbs. Frustration tightened her belly. She knew there must be something here to help his fever, but what?

Rocky lapped at the leaves, swallowing, then coughing harder than ever.

Moth Flight stared at him anxiously. The tansy wasn’t helping!

Catmint. The name flashed in her mind. Micah had mentioned it! He’d said it would help Tiny Branch’s cough! It looks a bit like nettles but the leaves are smaller and they don’t sting. You’ll know if you ever see some. It smells great. He’d said it grew by the Twoleg barn. Rocky began to wheeze. The farm was too far to travel. She needed to find some quickly.

Would there be any around the Twoleg nests beyond the forest?

“Try to rest,” she told Rocky. “I’m going to hunt for herbs.”

She watched the old tom settle stiffly into his nest. His pelt was clumped and his gaze dull. I wish I knew how to make him feel better. “Shall I fetch you something from the prey pile before I go?”

Rocky grunted. “I don’t think I can swallow.”

“Is your throat sore?”

“Like I swallowed hot nettles.” Rocky laid his muzzle on the edge of his nest and shook as he fought back a cough.

“I won’t be long!” Moth Flight raced from her den. She’d be lucky if she made it to Twolegplace before sunhigh. She bounded over the tussocky clearing.

“Moth Flight!” Dust Muzzle called from rocks near the entrance. He was chewing on a vole. Spotted Fur lay beside him, washing his face.

She slewed to a halt. “What?”

“Where are you going?” Dust Muzzle padded toward her.

“I need to find catmint.”

“For Rocky?” Dust Muzzle looked toward her den. “I saw you take him to your den.”

“It will help his cough,” Moth Flight explained.

Spotted Fur crossed the grass toward them. “Where are you going to look?”

“Twolegplace,” Moth Flight told him.

An excited squeak sounded from behind the rocks and Black

Ear scrambled onto the highest stone. “Can we come?”

Moth Flight blinked at him. “No! It’s too far.”

“But I’m bored,” the kit complained.

Reed Tail stuck his head up from behind the rocks and nudged the kit with his muzzle. “I’ll take you out on the moor when Slate wakes up,” he promised.

Moth Flight blinked at him. “Was Swift Minnow busy?”

“She was tired from hunting,” Reed Tail told her. “She said a tom was as good as a—”

Black Ear interrupted. “Perhaps Slate will come with us!”

“No way. She’s always too tired.” Silver Stripe scrambled up beside her brother. “Can we hunt on the moor?”

“Teach us some hunting moves!” White Tail leaped onto the rock. “I want to catch a rabbit.”

“They’re bigger than you!” Reed Tail teased.

“Reed Tail!” Holly called from the prey pile. “There are three fat mice here. Do you know any cat who might want one?”

“Me!” Silver Stripe leaped from the rock and began scrambling over the tussocks.

“I want the fattest one!” Black Ear chased after his sister.

“You are the fattest one!” White Tail hared after them.

Reed Tail glanced at Moth Flight. “I hope Slate says it’s okay to take them out of camp. They have more energy than a nest of squirrels.”

Moth Flight watched him trudge after the kits, grateful that he’d taken them off her paws. She turned back to Spotted Fur.

The tom’s amber gaze clouded with worry.

“Twolegplace is a long way. You’ll have to cross Clear Sky’s forest.”

“I’ll be okay,” Moth Flight reassured him. “Clear Sky doesn’t mind cats crossing his borders anymore. Besides, I’m a medicine cat now. I’m only hunting for herbs.”

Dust Muzzle frowned. “What if you run into rogues in Twolegplace?”

“And there are Thunderpaths,” Spotted Fur added anxiously.

“We’d better come with you.” Dust Muzzle shook out his pelt.

Moth Flight blinked at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting today?”

Spotted Fur paced around her. “We can hunt on the way back.”

Moth Flight wondered if she’d travel faster alone, but it made sense to take help. When she reached Twolegplace, she’d have to sniff out catmint, and three noses would be better than one. “Okay!” She whisked her tail. “Thanks.” Heading for the entrance, she broke into a run.

As she burst out of camp, relishing the fresh breeze that streamed through her whiskers, heather scent filled her nose.

Happiness surged beneath Moth Flight’s pelt as she raced downslope. She would find catmint and cure Rocky! She pushed harder against the grass. Paw steps thumped behind her as Spotted Fur and Dust Muzzle caught up.

“Slow down!” Dust Muzzle called. “You can’t run all the way!”

“We’ll have to walk in the forest.” Moth Flight kept her gaze fixed ahead. The roots and brambles under the trees would slow them down. They might as well make good time here, where they knew the terrain well. She ducked into a swath of heather, heading down a rabbit trail she’d followed countless times before.

Racing out the other side of the heather, she headed for the forest, Dust Muzzle and Spotted Fur following her.

They crossed the border gingerly, exchanging glances. The whole Clan told tales of the days when Clear Sky had challenged any cat he’d found in his forest. We’ll be fine. Moth Flight lifted her chin. Since the great battle, cats had crossed each other’s territory freely, but it was understood that no cat would hunt on another cat’s land. We’re not hunting. As the trees blocked the sun’s warmth, she shivered. What if a SkyClan cat challenged them the same way Willow Tail had challenged Red Claw about his “theft”? She pushed the thought away.

Rocky needed catmint.

Dust Muzzle was staring between the towering trunks, eyes wide as he adjusted to the gloom. “SkyClan cats must have eyes like owls.”

Birdsong echoed eerily from the tree trunks, closed in by the canopy of branches. Sunshine filtered through the bright new leaves and dappled the forest floor. Brambles spilled from between the trees, and ferns unfurled in wide clumps.

Moth Flight tasted the air. The musty flavor of old leaves and damp wood bathed her tongue. “Don’t SkyClan and ThunderClan miss the sunshine?” she whispered.

“They must.” Spotted Fur fluffed out his pelt. “It’s weird not hearing the wind.”

Moth Flight realized that the pressing hum in her ears was the sound of stillness. High overhead the leaves swished, but down here, among the roots, no breeze stirred.

“This way.” Dust Muzzle padded forward, heading up a rise where the forest sloped toward a small clearing and sunlight broke through the canopy.

Tiny paws scuttled across the leaves to one side. Spotted Fur jerked his head around.

“Ignore it,” Dust Muzzle warned. “We can catch bigger prey when we’re back on the moor.”

Spotted Fur huffed and followed Dust Muzzle as he jumped over a fallen log. Moth Flight scrambled behind them, yelping as a bramble snagged her paw.

Dust Muzzle glanced back. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Moth Flight tugged herself free, wincing. “How do they hunt here?”

Spotted Fur shrugged. “Perhaps they wait for their prey to trip.”

At the top of the rise, Moth Flight relished the warmth of the sun for a moment before shadow swallowed it again. “Do you know which way to go?” she called to Dust Muzzle, who had pulled into the lead. He was following a trail smoothed by rabbit tracks, by the smell of them.

“I’m trying to find the Thunderpath,” he answered.

Spotted Fur fell in beside her. “It runs between SkyClan and ShadowClan territory.”

Dust Muzzle glanced over his shoulder. “And it leads straight to Twolegplace.”

Moth Flight shuddered. “I don’t want to follow a

Thunderpath. It stinks.”

“Do you want to get lost among these trees?” Dust Muzzle argued.

“Can’t we just head away from the sun?” Moth Flight reasoned.

“We could if we could see it.” Dust Muzzle veered from the trail as brambles cut across it.

Spotted Fur paused. “Is that a gap in the trees over there?”

He pointed his nose toward a lighter stretch of forest.

Dust Muzzle headed toward it.

Moth Flight padded beside Spotted Fur, her nose twitching as the sour scent of monsters touched it. She could see light spilling between the trunks. They cleared another log, leaped a ditch, and climbed another rise. Ahead, the trees opened onto a wide gap that cut through the forest like a claw mark. Black stone lined the gash, stinking of Twoleg stench and, on the far side, the trees turned from oak to pine.

Moth Flight felt dizzy from the scents washing over her. The sharp tang of pinesap and monsters made her queasy. “Let’s stay in the trees,” she begged.

“It’ll be easier to walk along the verge.” Dust Muzzle headed out onto the grass.

Spotted Fur followed. “It’s sunny here.”

Moth Flight peered at the black stone as a monster howled past. Dust Muzzle hardly flinched. Spotted Fur only narrowed his eyes against the stinking wind that billowed in its wake.

Moth Flight ducked back among the trees. She could still remember Gorse Fur’s close brush with death. “I’m staying here.”

“Walk where I can see you!” Dust Muzzle trekked along the grass verge, keeping pace with her as she pushed through a clump of bracken.

“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Spotted Fur bounded into the forest and fell in beside Moth Flight.

“You can walk with Dust Muzzle,” she told him. “I’m okay by myself.”

“I’d rather walk with you.”

She ignored the meaningful glance he gave her and wondered if Micah was nearby. Had the farm cat explored this part of the forest yet, or had Clear Sky been keeping him busy in camp?

She opened her mouth, tasting the air for a trace of his scent.

But the stench of the Thunderpath drowned out any other smell.

Tail drooping, she padded on, scanning the trees ahead for some sign of Twoleg nests beyond.

The forest grew warm as the sun climbed higher, until Dust

Muzzle called from the verge. “I can see Twolegplace!”

Moth Flight’s heart lifted. “Is it far?”

“No!”

She quickened her pace, Spotted Fur breaking into a trot beside her. Picking her way past a bramble patch, she scanned the trees ahead. Sharp-cornered walls showed behind the trunks.

She broke into a run as she reached the edge of the woods.

Dust Muzzle left the verge and hurried to catch up with her as she zigzagged through the undergrowth until she reached a sheer wooden wall. She stopped at the bottom, judging the height. Taking a breath, she leaped. She hooked her claws into the rough wood and scrambled like a squirrel to the top.

Balancing on the narrow ridge, she gazed across the jumble of Twoleg nests and patches of grass, crisscrossed by a maze of wooden walls. The ridge wobbled as Dust Muzzle and Spotted Fur jumped up beside her.

“We should split up,” Moth Flight told them.

Dust Muzzle narrowed his eyes as he scanned the nests. “We don’t know what we’re looking for.”

“Micah says catmint looks like nettles,” Moth Flight told him. “Its leaves are smaller and don’t sting. He said that it smells so great, you’ll know if you find it.”

Spotted Fur’s pelt ruffled. “Does Micah know every herb?”

There was an edge in his mew.

“Just catmint.” Moth Flight gazed down into the grassy clearing below. Unusual plants crowded the edge. She opened her mouth and let their scent touch her tongue. Nothing smelled great. She nodded toward the wooden walls farther along. “You search there, I’ll head the other way,” she told Dust Muzzle.

“I’m sticking with you,” Spotted Fur told her.

Moth Flight dug her claws into the ridge. “We’ll find it quicker if we split up.” Spotted Fur was nice but she didn’t want him breathing on her tail everywhere she went.

Dust Muzzle whisked his tail, wobbling as he turned on the wall. “Call if you need help,” he told her, picking his way along it. “We won’t be far away.”

Spotted Fur caught Moth Flight’s eye. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” he asked hopefully.

“Dust Muzzle will need help searching for herbs. He’s used to hunting rabbits.” Moth Flight turned her tail on him and headed in the opposite direction.

The wall trembled beneath her and she had to concentrate to keep her balance. In the next clearing between the walls she saw huge white-plumed grasses towering around a patch of grass.

The clearing beyond was covered with stone. She sniffed the air as she reached the next one, relieved to see countless plants crammed between the wooden walls. Excited, she jumped down among them and began snuffling through the leaves.

Like nettles. Micah’s words rang in her mind. If only she’d met him in the woods; he could have helped her find it. She paused. A wonderful scent was filling her nose. She blinked, gazing around.

There! A leafy plant, just like Micah had described, was crammed between a flowering shrub and a spiky grass. She hurried toward it, her pelt pricking as its scent reached inside her. Excitement flared in her belly. She stopped beside it and plunged her muzzle deep into the plant, dizzy as she breathed in the mouthwatering smell. It was just like Micah had said. You’ll know it when you find it!

She grabbed a clump of stems between her teeth and ripped them away from the plant. Laying them at her paws, she grabbed another mouthful, tearing away as much as she could.

Delighted, she patted the broken stems into a tight bunch and bent to pick them up. Thanks, Micah.

She paused, remembering their journey to Highstones. It was still so vivid in her mind: the sun setting behind the stones; the meal Micah had caught for her before she’d gone into the tunnel. She’d been so nervous, and he’d been so reassuring.

That had been the best night of her life. She suddenly tasted the scent of damp stone and imagined the spirit-cats shimmering into view around her. Joy warmed her belly as she pictured how kindly they’d greeted her. You’re special—

A loud yelp broke into her thoughts. She jerked her muzzle around. A Twoleg burst from its nest and raced toward her. It was barking like an angry dog.

Moth Flight’s heart seemed to burst. Blind with panic, she snatched up the catmint between her jaws and hared for the wooden wall. Twoleg paws grabbed for her, their clammy flesh pulling her fur as she twisted free. A growl rumbling in her throat, she leaped up the wall and clung to the top. The Twoleg was yowling in rage, its red face only a tail-length away.

Fighting terror, Moth Flight leaped along the wooden ridge, her claws stretched as it wobbled beneath her. In a moment, she was beyond the Twoleg’s reach. Another wall blocked its way, and it was clearly too clumsy to climb over. She slowed, finding her balance and made her way shakily back toward Dust

Muzzle.

Her brother was already hurrying toward her, his pelt bushed, his gaze flashing toward the barking Twoleg. “Did it hurt you?”

Moth Flight’s mouth was too full to speak. Instead she jumped down into the forest. She spat out the catmint and sucked in a deep breath.

Dust Muzzle landed beside her, darting around her anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“Just scared!” she panted. “I didn’t see it coming until too late.”

Spotted Fur scrambled down the wall. “What happened?”

Dust Muzzle rolled his eyes. “My dreamy sister nearly got caught by a Twoleg.”

Moth Flight glared at him furiously. “I can’t help being dreamy!” she hissed. Be yourself. Half Moon’s words flashed in her mind. “It’s just the way I am.”

“One day it’s going to get you into trouble,” Dust Muzzle fretted.

“I escaped, didn’t I?” Moth Flight lashed her tail. “And don’t tell Wind Runner! She’ll just worry about me!”

Spotted Fur nosed between them and sniffed the catmint. “It does smell good!” A purr rumbled in his throat. “Can I chew some?” He was already rubbing his cheek against the stems.

Moth Flight nosed him away sharply. “That’s medicine for Rocky!” she snapped, still angry with her brother. “He doesn’t want your drool all over it.” She snatched up the stems and marched back into the forest.

Paws aching from the journey home, Moth Flight left Dust

Muzzle and Spotted Fur to hunt on the moor and hurried back to camp. Holding her head high so she didn’t trip over the stems, she scrabbled over the tussocky clearing and headed for her den.

Jagged Peak looked up as she passed. “That smells mouthwatering!”

She dipped her head to him, unable to answer.

Storm Pelt and Eagle Feather fell in beside her, leaning close to sniff the leaves.

“What’s that?” A purr rumbled in Storm Pelt’s throat.

“Is it for Rocky?” Eagle Feather asked.

Moth Flight dropped the stems at the entrance to her den.

The heady scent clouded her thoughts and she shook out her pelt, hoping to clear them. “It’s catmint,” she told them.

Eagle Feather was crouching, sniffing at the leaves. “Where did you find it?”

“Twolegplace.” Moth Flight could hear Rocky coughing inside her den.

“It’s a shame it doesn’t grow on the moor.” Storm Pelt’s blue eyes shone. “It smells great.”

“It’s for curing coughs.” Moth Flight shooed Eagle Feather away with a flick of her tail. “It’s precious.” She glanced toward the sandy dip beside the big stone. Sunlight pooled at the bottom. If she dried the leaves, they wouldn’t rot. She hooked two stems from the pile and pushed the rest toward Storm Pelt.

“Will you spread these in the hollow so that they dry?” She glanced around. Swift Minnow and Reed Tail were lounging in the late-afternoon sunshine at the edge of the camp. Slate sat blinking at the entrance to her den while Silver Stripe, Black Ear, and White Tail skittered around her, chasing one another’s tails. Wind Runner stretched beside the big stone, her belly turned toward the sun and her eyes closed. Moth Flight blinked at Storm Pelt. “Sit and guard them while they dry,” she ordered.

“I don’t want everyone in camp sniffing the leaves. They’re for sick cats.” She wouldn’t blame her Clanmates for wanting to taste the tempting leaves. She’d wanted to try one herself, but she worried that, if cats ate catmint while they were healthy, it might not work when they were ill. Besides, she didn’t want to travel to Twolegplace every few days to fetch more!

Storm Pelt nodded, grabbing the stems between his jaws.

Eagle Feather followed eagerly as he hopped into the hollow and began spreading them over the sandy earth.

Moth Flight ducked into her den. She laid the stems beside

Rocky’s nest. Heat was still pulsing from his damp pelt.

“Rocky?” She touched him gently with a paw and he blinked his eyes open. “How are you feeling?”

He coughed in reply.

“I’ve brought you something that might help.” Moth Flight tore off a leaf with a claw and placed it beside Rocky’s muzzle.

“Eat this.”

Rocky sniffed the catmint, his eyes brightening. “It smells nice!” He blinked at her gratefully and lapped up the leaf.

She tore off a few more, dropping them beside him. He lapped them up as quickly as she could shred them, until both stems were plucked clean. Was that enough? She leaned closer, wondering how long the catmint would take to work.

Rocky purred happily, though he still wheezed with every breath.

“Moth Flight!”

She lifted her head sharply. A familiar voice was calling outside.

Micah! Pelt pricking with excitement, she ducked out of her den. The yellow tom was crossing the clearing, the late sunshine turning his fur golden. She hurried to meet him, hoping her pelt didn’t look too dusty after her long trek through the forest. Her heart leaped as she saw him.

He stopped as he reached her, his eyes shining. “How’s life as a medicine cat?”

“You should know!” Moth Flight met his gaze, joy surging in her chest. “What’s life like with SkyClan?”

Micah swished his tail. “Okay, I guess.” He didn’t sound sure.

“How’s Tiny Branch? Did you cure him?”

“He’s charging around camp with his littermates, as healthy as a lark.” Micah puffed out his chest proudly.

“Clear Sky and Star Flower must be happy,” Moth Flight commented.

“Star Flower is,” Micah told her. “I think Clear Sky’s wishing he hadn’t promised I could stay if I cured his kit.”

Worry rippled through Moth Flight’s fur. Clear Sky could be cruel. “Is he giving you a hard time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. He meows loudly, but he keeps his claws sheathed. I think—”

“Micah.” Wind Runner’s mew cut him off. “What are you doing here?”

Moth Flight turned to see her mother approaching. Her fur was still flattened where she’d been lying. Sleepiness clouded her gaze. But Moth Flight recognized her tone of voice. She stiffened, wondering whether the WindClan leader was going to find fault with her or with Micah. “He came to see me,” she told

Wind Runner. Then she paused, glancing anxiously at Micah.

“You did, right?”

Micah purred. “Of course! I’ve missed you.”

Wind Runner’s gaze darkened. “I really don’t think you should be here,” she told the yellow tom. “Clear Sky’s not too happy with WindClan at the moment. Not since we accused Red Claw of prey-stealing.”

Or since I told him to take a farm cat into his Clan, Moth Flight thought.

Wind Runner narrowed her eyes. “You smell like the forest, Moth Flight,” she meowed sharply. “Where have you been?”

“I went to Twolegplace to fetch catmint for Rocky.”

Wind Runner bristled. “Did you cross Clear Sky’s territory?”

“It’s the quickest route.”

Micah blinked at her. “I wish I’d known,” he told her earnestly. “I would have escorted you.”

“It’s okay,” Moth Flight reassured him. “Dust Muzzle and Spotted Fur came with me.”

Wind Runner’s tail twitched. “Three of you crossed Clear Sky’s land?”

Moth Flight faced her. “So what? We weren’t hunting. And Rocky needed the leaves.”

“But what if—”

Micah cut Wind Runner off, his eager gaze fixed on Moth

Flight. “Did you find some?”

Moth Flight nodded. “It was just like you said. Once I smelled it, I knew it was catmint.”

“It makes your mouth water, doesn’t it?” Micah purred.

“Stop it!” Wind Runner pushed in front of Micah. “You can’t come into our camp whenever you want to gossip about herbs!” She turned on Moth Flight. “And you can’t go wandering into SkyClan territory without telling me.”

Moth Flight blinked at her. “But it was for Rocky! You’re always going on about the good of the Clan. Well this was for the good of the Clan.”

Wind Runner’s gaze darkened. “It’s not for the good of the Clan if it starts a battle.”

Moth Flight’s pelt pricked. “Surely there wouldn’t be a battle over something as dumb as crossing each other’s land.”

“Clear Sky’s started one before,” Wind Runner muttered.

Micah’s ears twitched. “I think Clear Sky is more interested in being a good father at the moment than fighting battles.”

Before Wind Runner could reply, he caught Moth Flight’s eye.

“I’d better go.”

“Yes.” Wind Runner stared at him. “You’d better.”

Moth Flight sniffed indignantly. “I’ll walk you to the border.”

Wind Runner shot her a look. “Don’t cross it.”

“I won’t!” Moth Flight whisked her tail as she headed for the entrance. Then she paused. “I’d better check on Rocky before I go. I want to see if the catmint’s working.”

Wind Runner stalked away, growling. “Don’t be long. I want

Micah back in his own territory by sunset.”

Micah glanced at Moth Flight, his eyes glittering with amusement. “She’s even sterner than I imagined.”

“I warned you.” Moth Flight headed for her den, stifling a purr.

Inside, Rocky stretched in his nest, spreading his belly happily. A loud purr throbbed in his chest. He wasn’t coughing.

Moth Flight blinked at him. “It sounds like the catmint worked.”

“I feel great!” Rocky lifted his head and stared blearily at Moth Flight.

Micah padded past her and smelled the old tom’s breath.

“How much did you give him?” he asked Moth Flight.

“Two stems.” Moth Flight hurried to the nest anxiously.

“Was that too much?”

Before Micah could answer, Rocky reached out a paw and gave her a playful shove on the muzzle. “It was just the right amount.” His tail flicked over his belly. As it flashed past his nose, he grabbed it between his forepaws. “Got you!” Delight shone in his eyes. “Look! I caught my tail!”

Moth Flight stiffened. She’d never seen him act like a kit before. “Have I poisoned him?”

“He’ll be fine,” Micah reassured her. “He might just be a little playful for a while. But his cough should improve.”

“It already has.” Rocky flopped onto his side, his head lolling over the edge of his nest.

“Come on.” Micah steered Moth Flight toward the entrance.

“Let him sleep it off.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Rocky called after them.

“Stay in your nest,” Micah told him firmly. “We don’t want you wandering off and getting lost in the heather. You might feel better but you still need to rest.” He nosed Moth Flight from the den.

Outside, in the sunshine, Moth Flight blinked at him. “How much should I have given him?” she asked.

“Two or three leaves are enough.” Micah headed toward the camp entrance.

Moth Flight hurried to catch up. “Did Tiny Branch act like that when you gave him some?”

“I only gave him one leaf,” Micah weaved between the tussocks and headed out of camp.

Moth Flight’s pelt prickled hotly along her spine as she followed him. Rocky had been the first cat she’d ever treated.

“I’m such a featherbrain,” she mewed crossly.

Micah looked at her, surprised. “Why?”

“I should have known it was too much.”

“How?” Micah padded at her side. “You’d never seen it before. I’m impressed that you even found some.”

“Really?” Moth Flight blinked at him.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Micah told her. “We’re all learning.”

“Have you made any mistakes?” Moth Flight asked.

“Not yet.” Micah gazed across the heather. “But there’s so much I don’t know yet. Clear Sky seems to think I should have the answer to everything. Most of the time, I’m just guessing.”

The breeze tugged Moth Flight’s pelt, chilly now as the sun began to set. But she hardly noticed. She was relieved to hear that Micah was feeling overwhelmed by his duties too. “I thought it was just me,” she meowed softly.

Micah’s flank brushed hers. “It’s not just you,” he assured her. “I bet Dappled Pelt, Cloud Spots, and Pebble Heart are struggling too.”

“Not Pebble Heart,” Moth Flight sighed. “Everyone says he’s a natural healer.” She glanced at her paws. “I wish I was.”

“How do you know you’re not?” Micah challenged. “Rocky seemed very happy just now.”

Moth Flight purred, picturing the old tom. “A bit too happy.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘too happy.’” Micah broke into a run, swerved around a patch of heather and bounded down the slope as it steepened.

Moth Flight chased after him, purring as she ran. She caught up as they neared the border. “Wait!” She didn’t want him to go home yet.

He skidded to a halt as he neared the brambles spilling from among the trees. “What?”

“You don’t have to get back to camp already, do you?” Moth

Flight gazed into his amber eyes.

Micah glanced at the border. “I guess not.” He didn’t sound sure.

Moth Flight tipped her head. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Micah swished his tail breezily. “Of course not. I just promised Acorn Fur I’d help her mix some herbs.”

“Acorn Fur?” Moth Flight frowned. “But you’re SkyClan’s medicine cat.”

“Clear Sky wants me to have a helper.” Micah avoided her gaze. “I think he wants her to keep an eye on me.”

“Clear Sky’s never been too trusting.” Moth Flight padded closer. “I’m sure he’ll get used to having you as a medicine cat soon.”

“Yeah.” Micah shrugged. “Besides, Acorn Fur’s nice. We get along fine. And she’s bright. I quite like having her around.”

Moth Flight pushed away the jealousy pricking in her belly.

“Acorn Fur’s okay,” she conceded.

“We found a way to treat scratches,” Micah told her. “If you chew dock leaves and horsetail stems into a paste, you can smear it deep into a wound.”

Moth Flight pricked her ears. “I’ll try that next time one of the kits grazes a paw.”

“It stings,” Micah warned. “They’ll make a fuss. But it will stop the wound from getting infected.”

The brambles shivered. “Micah!” Acorn Fur padded into the evening sunshine. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Micah dipped his head to the chestnut brown she-cat. “I was just on my way back to camp.”

“Clear Sky wants you there now.” Acorn Fur eyed Moth

Flight warily. “He says Tiny Branch needs more catmint.”

Micah frowned. “Tiny Branch is fine.”

“Just come!” Acorn Fur glared at him. “Clear Sky is in one of his moods.”

“Let me say good-bye to Moth Flight first.”

Moth Flight felt Micah’s soft breath on her muzzle as he leaned toward her.

“Hurry up!” Acorn Fur crossed the border and padded to Micah’s side.

Micah caught Moth Flight’s eye, his gaze apologetic. “I’ve got to go,” he whispered.

“See you at half-moon,” Moth Flight murmured back.

“Yeah.” Micah followed Acorn Fur into the trees.

Moth Flight watched the shadows swallow him, her pelt pricking uneasily. Acorn Fur was treating him more like a hostage than a Clanmate. Was Micah okay in SkyClan? She tore her gaze away, already longing to see him again, and headed back to camp.