Moth Flight’s Vision

Chapter 20

Early-morning light washed the reed beds. The rain that had drenched the camp for the past two days had finally lifted and sunshine was breaking through the clouds. On the other side of the clearing, River Ripple stretched outside his den. Moss Tail and Dawn Mist were stirring sleepily in their nest while Drizzle and Pine Needle charged across the camp, trying to catch each other’s tails.

Dappled Pelt blinked kindly at Moth Flight and Micah. “I’ve taught you all I know.”

Micah whisked his tail. “You know lots!”

“I can’t wait to use some of the stuff I’ve learned!” Moth

Flight’s pelt prickled with excitement. I hope I can find goatweed on the moor! It was one of the herbs Dappled Pelt had shown them. A few leaves, given daily, might lift Slate’s grief.

Her paws itched to go home, and yet the thought of leaving Micah made her heart ache.

Micah glanced around the RiverClan camp. “I’m going to miss it here,” he murmured. “I was getting used to the sound of the river lulling me to sleep.”

I was getting used to the sound of your breathing. Moth Flight glanced at him shyly. Her own nest would seem chilly without him.

Drizzle skidded to a halt between them. “Are you leaving?”

Pine Needle stared at Micah with round eyes. “You can’t go yet! I haven’t taught you how to fish.”

Micah nudged the kit’s cheek with his nose. “You need to learn how to swim first.”

Pine Needle stuck out his chin. “I swam a whole tail-length yesterday!”

Drizzle snorted. “With Dawn Mist holding your scruff!”

“At least I didn’t try to swallow half the river!”

“Hush.” Dappled Pelt silenced Pine Needle with a look.

“Micah and Moth Flight need to return to their Clans.”

“Why can’t they stay here with us?” Drizzle mewed.

“My Clan needs me,” Micah told her.

A twinge jabbed Moth Flight’s heart. I need you. She pushed the rabbit-brained thought away. “Mine too.”

Drizzle’s tail drooped. “Okay.”

“Will you come and visit again?” Pine Needle asked.

“Of course.” Moth Flight swished her tail. “When we have new skills to share.”

Dappled Pelt’s eyes shone. “I hope it won’t be long.” Her gaze flitted past them.

Moth Flight turned, following it. River Ripple was heading toward them. She dipped her head as he neared. “Thank you for letting us stay.”

“It was an honor.”

Micah nudged Moth Flight as the RiverClan leader blinked at her respectfully. “See what happens when you get chosen by StarClan?” he teased.

“I must get back to my herbs.” Dappled Pelt turned toward her den. “They won’t sort themselves.”

“Thanks!” Moth Flight called as she disappeared inside.

Micah gazed across the reed beds thoughtfully. “Do we have to go home right away?”

Moth Flight shot him a look. “Don’t you want to go back to SkyClan?”

“Eventually.” Micah leaned close to her ear. “But I like hanging out with you,” he whispered.

Moth Flight snatched her gaze away, her pelt growing hot. “I like hanging out with you too,” she mumbled.

River Ripple looked away, his whiskers twitching. Moth

Flight wondered if he’d heard.

“Perhaps Cloud Spots can teach you about woodland herbs,” River Ripple meowed vaguely as he stared toward the forest.

“ThunderClan camp isn’t far.”

Micah blinked at him. “That’s a good idea! It’ll be fun. And we can tell Cloud Spots what we’ve learned from Dappled Pelt.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” River Ripple kept his gaze on the trees.

Moth Flight shifted her paws self-consciously. “Maybe.”

She felt guilty about staying away from the moor for so long.

And with Micah. “But what about WindClan? They might need me.”

River Ripple blinked at her. “You’ve got a whole lifetime to take care of your Clan. Have fun while you can.”

She glanced at Micah. If River Ripple thought visiting ThunderClan was okay, then it must be. “Let’s do it.”

Micah purred. “Great!”

River Ripple’s tail twitched. “Do you want me to show you the way?”

And miss walking alone with Micah? “No,” Moth Flight told him quickly.

“We’ll find it,” Micah assured him.

“I thought you’d say that.” A teasing glint flashed in River Ripple’s eyes. Moth Flight’s paws prickled with embarrassment.

He had guessed they wanted to be alone.

River Rippled turned his muzzle toward the forest. “The camp’s in a ravine,” he told them. “It’s hard to see from the top, so follow your noses.”

Micah dipped his head and padded toward the camp entrance. “Thanks.”

“Yes, thank you, River Ripple,” Moth Flight called as she hurried after Micah.

They followed the trail through the reeds until it opened onto the riverbank. Moth Flight could see the stepping-stones, which crossed to the tree-lined shore beyond. She trotted happily toward them. Dappled Pelt had led her over them so many times in the past few days that she no longer thought twice about getting her paws wet. She knew this stretch of river and the herbs that grew along it as well as she knew the moortop. She beat Micah to the first stone and bounded across, landing at the far side, her chest bursting with happiness.

She purred as Micah landed beside her. “Which way now?”

Micah gazed among the trees, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the shadows. “I don’t know this part of the forest.”

“Let’s explore it together.” Moth Flight marched from the shore and hopped over an oak root jutting from the ground. She brushed past a fern, its fresh leaves glowing in the dappled light that glittered through the canopy. Musty scents bathed her muzzle and, for the first time since leaving the moor, she smelled mouse. Her belly rumbled. They hadn’t eaten since last night, when Moss Tail had brought them a trout. She longed to taste furry prey again and she scanned the undergrowth, hoping to catch sight of movement among the leaves.

“We mustn’t hunt,” Micah reminded her. His nose was twitching. “Can’t you smell the border scents?”

Moth Flight had been too busy sniffing for prey. She lifted her muzzle and breathed in the scent of ThunderClan cats.

“Perhaps we can catch a fish. I’m sure River Ripple won’t mind.” Her belly growled again.

“Can you swim?” Micah stared at her.

“No.” Moth Flight glanced back at the river. “But sometimes they come close to the shore. We might be able to wade in and grab one.”

“Or we could wait here for a bird to fly into our paws.”

Moth Flight lifted her tail and brushed past Micah, huffily.

“It was just a suggestion.”

He purred and padded after her. “I love your suggestions.”

Moth Flight tried not to purr. Micah was so sweet.

He fell in step beside her. “Let’s find the camp. Hopefully ThunderClan will share their prey.”

Moth Flight followed Micah, pelt pricking uneasily. Had

Cloud Spots warned Thunder that StarClan wanted the medicine cats to share their knowledge? She knew that the ThunderClan leader was Clear Sky’s son; did that mean he’d be as suspicious as SkyClan’s leader?

They followed a rabbit trail between brambles and bracken as the forest floor rose beneath their paws. It steepened as the trees grew thicker, the shadows deepening around them.

“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked Micah hopefully.

“No.” Micah scrambled over a rotting log and paused on the other side.

Moth Flight dropped down beside him and gazed between the trees. They seemed to stretch on forever, sunlight piercing the leaves here and there, illuminating spots of woodland with brilliant shafts of light. She pointed her nose toward a thick path of brambles some way ahead. “Do you think that could be the camp wall?”

“Let’s check.” Micah headed toward it, stumbling as a root tripped him.

Moth Flight steadied him with her muzzle. “I thought you were used to forests,” she teased.

“I’m used to farms,” Micah reminded her. “I don’t know if I’ll ever stop stubbing my paws on roots.”

“Of course you will. You just nee—” Moth Flight yelped as she trod on a patch of young nettles. Pain shot through her paw and she hopped clear, lifting it protectively.

“Wait.” Micah glanced at the nettles then began to scan the forest floor, his eyes lighting up. He dashed toward a clump of leaves sprouting beside an ash. Tearing one off with his teeth, he carried it back to Moth Flight.

She stared at it. “What’s that?”

“Dock.” Micah laid it upside-down on the ground in front of her. “Rub your paw on it.”

Moth Flight pressed her throbbing pad to the soft leaf.

“Rub it hard,” Micah urged.

Moth Flight squashed the leaf beneath her paw until she felt its juices bathe the sting. To her surprise, the pain eased. “That’s great!” She stared at Micah with round eyes.

“I learned it from Cow,” Micah told her.

“I wonder if dock grows on the moor,” Moth Flight murmured.

A deep mew sounded from between the trees. “If nettles grow there, dock won’t be far away.”

Moth Flight jerked around, her heart lurching.

Micah flattened his ears warily.

“Don’t worry. It’s only me.” A black tom padded from the shadows.

“Cloud Spots!” Relief washed Moth Flight’s pelt.

“Are you two lost?” The ThunderClan medicine cat stopped beside them.

“We’ve come to visit you,” Micah explained.

Cloud Spots sniffed them, his nose wrinkling. “How was your stay with RiverClan?”

“Dappled Pelt taught us so much!” Moth Flight told him eagerly. “We’ve come to share what we learned.”

Micah lifted his tail. “And hopefully learn some more.”

Moth Flight blinked at Cloud Spots. “Will Thunder let us stay?”

“Of course.” Cloud Spots flashed Micah a playful look. “He doesn’t want SkyClan’s medicine cat knowing more than his.”

Micah purred. “He sounds like Clear Sky.”

“Perhaps,” Cloud Spots conceded. “But he also wants to please StarClan.”

Micah’s whiskers twitched. “I’m not sure Clear Sky cares much about what StarClan thinks. But he cares about his Clan.”

Cloud Spots dipped his head. “He’s become a worthy leader.”

Moth Flight looked toward the bramble thicket. “Are we near the camp?”

“It’s not far,” Cloud Spots told her. “I’m heading back there once I’ve collected some borage leaves.”

Moth Flight gazed at him blankly. “What’s borage?”

“I’ll show you.” Cloud Spots led them along a winding track through bracken, stopping as the trees thinned. In the patchy sunlight beyond, green plants crowded the forest floor. Their soft leaves looked furry and buds showed at the top of each stem. “By greenleaf, this patch will be purple with flowers.”

Moth Flight padded among the stems, breathing in the zesty perfume. She stopped and touched her nose to a leaf, surprised by its softness. “What’s it for?”

“The leaves help soothe bad bellies,” Cloud Spots told her.

“And relieve tight chests. They can also help nursing queens to make more milk for their kits.”

Micah weaved among the stems. “Is someone ill?”

“Milkweed has just had kits,” Cloud Spots told her.

Moth Flight blinked. Newleaf seemed to bring kits like it brought fresh leaves. She wondered if any cat in WindClan was expecting.

Micah ran his paw over a borage leaf. “Doesn’t she have enough milk?”

“I’m just making sure,” Cloud Spots told him. “Milkweed’s not as young as she used to be. She had her first litter many moons ago, before she joined the Clan.”

“Is Leaf the father?” Moth Flight tipped her head, curious.

She’d seen Leaf and Milkweed at gatherings. They’d always stayed close, watching each other with a fondness she’d only seen between her mother and Gorse Fur.

“Yes,” Cloud Spots purred.

Moth Flight reached out a paw and tore a borage leaf from its stem.

“The best leaves grow halfway up the stem,” Cloud Spots told her. “Not too tough, but old enough to have plenty of sap.”

Moth Flight chose another leaf closer to the middle of the plant. “Like this one?”

“That’s great.” Cloud Spots picked a leaf from the plant beside him and laid it on the ground.

Together they picked enough to make a small pile, then Cloud Spots rolled them into a tight bundle and clasped it between his jaws.

He headed away through the trees. Moth Flight followed, Micah on her tail. They pushed past the brambles and headed across a clearing, Cloud Spots slowing as the forest sloped upward.

He flicked his tail sharply, his ears twitching a warning.

Moth Flight halted as the medicine cat stopped and looked down. She followed his gaze, amazed to see the land drop away into a steep ravine.

Spindly trees and bushes crowded the bottom. “Is the camp down there?”

“Yes.” Cloud Spots placed his bundle on the ground.

“Follow my route down the cliff and watch closely where I put my paws. Some of the ledges are narrow.” Picking up the wad of borage, he scrambled down onto a wide shelf, then hopped onto a narrow jutting stone below.

Moth Flight glanced nervously at Micah.

“Trust your paws,” Micah told her. “They led you to the Moonstone.” Slithering onto the first ledge, he followed Cloud

Spots. Moth Flight ignored her pounding heart and jumped down after him.

She landed clumsily and sent grit showering down. “Sorry!” she called as it sprayed Cloud Spots and Micah.

Micah shook the dirt from his pelt. “Don’t worry!”

Carefully, Moth Flight leaped down onto the next ledge, unsheathing her claws to help her grip. Fear sparked beneath her pelt as she hopped from rock to rock until at last she saw the ground below. She landed on the smooth earth beside Micah, limp with relief. But there was still no sign of the camp. A large gorse bush blocked their way. She scanned it, searching for an entrance, but it was only when Cloud Spots slid among the dark green branches that she saw it. She followed Micah through, aware of the high cliffs and thick bushes looming on every side.

It was different from the airy RiverClan camp.

As she emerged from the gorse, she blinked, surprised to see a grassy clearing. Bushes encircled it, and a wide thicket of bramble crowded one end, while a great rock towered at the other. On the far side, a cliff showed amid burgeoning ferns and, at the other side, a rotting tree lay, bark crumbling around it.

Cloud Spots headed for the brambles, while Micah paused in the clearing.

Moth Flight stopped beside him. She could smell

ThunderClan scents. They clung to the grass and drifted from every bush, but there was no sign of any cat. “Where is every cat?”

“Hunting!” Cloud Spots called over his shoulder before disappearing among the bramble stems.

“I’m not.” A croaky mew sounded from the shadows beneath a jutting branch of the fallen tree. A skinny white tom crept out. Moth Flight recognized Pink Eyes. She’d seen him at her first Gathering. He blinked through sunlight shafting past the thick canopy. Is he blind now? The tom was squinting, as though trying to make them out.

“It’s me, Moth Flight.” She padded closer. “I’m WindClan’s medicine cat—”

Pink Eyes interrupted. “You don’t need to tell me who you are. The Clan has been gossiping about you since you came back from Highstones, talking of spirit-cats.”

Moth Flight hesitated. The Clans gossiped about her? She shifted her paws self-consciously as Pink Eyes went on.

“You told Cloud Spots to be our medicine cat, so now he wants me to eat herbs,” he muttered peevishly. “He thinks he can cure my aches and pains. But you can’t cure old age.”

Cloud Spots squeezed out from the bramble. “I can try,” he called to Pink Eyes.

“I’d rather you brought me a fresh vole every day,” Pink

Eyes huffed.

Cloud Spots flashed Moth Flight an exasperated look. “It’s my job to take care of you.”

A young orange-and-white she-kit who looked about three moons old slid out from the bramble and raced toward the old tom. “Pink Eyes! Shall I fetch fresh moss for your bedding?”

A dappled gray tom-kit chased after her. “I’ll help you, Apple Blossom.” He stopped as he saw Moth Flight and Micah and blinked at them in surprise. “Are these the visitors you told

Milkweed about?” he asked Cloud Spots.

“Yes. Moth Flight and Micah.”

“Hi!” Apple Blossom dipped her head, then looked at Cloud

Spots. “Can we go and gather moss for Pink Eyes’s bed?”

Pink Eyes snorted. “I don’t need my nest stuffed with damp moss.”

Apple Blossom lifted her tail. “We’ll lay it in the sun to dry first.” She flicked her muzzle toward the dappled gray tom-kit.

“Snail Shell says he found a patch of the softest moss ever.”

The tom-kit nodded. “We can fetch it now.”

Cloud Spots frowned. “Is it far from camp?”

Snail Shell shook his head. “It’s near the top of the ravine.”

Apple Blossom blinked hopefully at the ThunderClan medicine cat. “We won’t be gone long.”

Cloud Spots dipped his head. “Be careful climbing down.

It’s hard to see where you’re putting your paws with a mouthful of moss.”

Apple Blossom hared toward the gorse barrier. “We won’t fall.”

Snail Shell chased after her, disappearing through the gap in the dark green branches.

Pink Eyes rolled his eyes dramatically. “Between swallowing herbs and having my nest cleaned out, I don’t get a moment’s peace.”

Cloud Spots purred. “And don’t forget all the kit-watching you do,” he teased.

“Kit-watching!” Pink Eyes grunted. “I suppose I feel useful helping out Gooseberry and Yew Tail. Makes the new family feel welcome. But Apple Blossom and Snail Shell hardly need me anymore.”

“Shivering Rose, Hazel Burrow, and Morning Fire will, as soon as they’re big enough to leave the den.”

Moth Flight pricked her ears. If Apple Blossom and Snail Shell belong to a new family, then the kits Cloud Spots just mentioned must be… “Are they Milkweed’s kits?”

Cloud Spots nodded, glancing toward the bramble bush. “Do you want to see them?”

“Yes.” Though Moth Flight was more interested in finding out if Milkweed had eaten the borage Cloud Spots had taken her. She followed the ThunderClan medicine cat toward the tangle of brambles that spilled from one edge of the clearing. As she neared, she saw a small entrance hollowed among the stems.

Cloud Spots stuck his nose in. “Milkweed! Moth Flight’s here. May she see your kits?”

“Of course!” A gentle mew sounded from inside.

Moth Flight glanced at Micah, standing in the clearing. “Can

Micah come?”

Micah shrugged. “Cow always told me to leave a queen and her kits to themselves. I’ll keep Pink Eyes company,” he meowed. “He must have plenty of stories to share.”

Pink Eyes’s tail twitched. “I don’t see why a young tom like you would be interested, but okay.”

Cloud Spots wriggled through the brambles and Moth Flight followed. She was surprised to find herself in a wide hollow walled by prickly stems. Sunlight speared through gaps in the branches. “How did you make this den?” she asked, gazing around.

“Carefully,” Cloud Spots purred.

Three wide nests, woven from twigs and lined with moss, sat on a dry earth floor. A splotchy ginger-and-black she-cat gazed with amber eyes from one. Three tiny kits squirmed at her belly, their eyes closed.

The warm scent of milk touched Moth Flight’s nose. One of the kits began mewling as another pushed him away from his mother’s soft flank. Milkweed quickly scooped him near with a paw. “That’s Hazel Burrow,” she purred. “Shivering Rose and Morning Fire are always stealing his milk. But he’s going to grow into a handsome tom, just like his father.”

“They’re all beautiful.” Moth Flight gazed at the black-and-white tom-kit, happy now as he nursed at Milkweed’s belly.

Shivering Rose nuzzled in beside him, her black pelt as fluffy as an owl chick’s, while Morning Fire squirmed closer, her dark brown fur camouflaged among the shadows.

Moth Flight glanced toward the empty nest on the other side of the den. It smelled warm. “Is that Apple Blossom and Snail

Shell’s nest?”

“They share it with their mother, Gooseberry,” Cloud Spots told her.

“There’s hardly room for them anymore,” Milkweed commented. “But there may be more space soon. The third nest belongs to Violet Dawn, and I think she wants to move to Thunder’s den.”

Moth Flight knew that Violet Dawn was a sleek dark gray she-cat who’d joined ThunderClan several moons ago. Thunder had taken her as his mate.

Cloud Spots narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Perhaps they should be building new nests instead of collecting moss for Pink

Eyes.”

A hoarse mew sounded outside the den. “Do you want me to go scavenging for my own bedding?”

Cloud Spots purred. “Pink Eyes’s sight may be weak, but his hearing is as sharp as ever.” He nodded toward the den entrance.

“Let’s leave Milkweed to rest.”

“Have you given her the borage?” Moth Flight asked.

Cloud Spots nodded to a pile of leaves beside her nest.

“She’s had one leaf and I’m leaving the rest in case she needs more.”

“Take some for your store,” Milkweed told him. “I won’t need it all.”

Cloud Spots glanced at the kits, suckling happily at her belly, and nodded. “Okay.” He grabbed a few leaves from the pile and nosed his way out of the den.

“Thanks for letting me see your kits,” Moth Flight mewed gratefully to the queen.

Milkweed purred. “There’s nothing better than being a mother.”

“I guess.” Moth Flight shrugged, wondering what could be better than roaming the moor alone, searching for new plants.

She couldn’t imagine being responsible for cats too helpless to look after themselves. But isn’t that what a medicine cat has to do? Her belly tightened as she followed Cloud Spots into the clearing. Then she saw Micah. He looked so handsome, a pool of sunshine creeping slowly across his flank. He was lying beside Pink Eyes, his attention fixed on the old tom as he listened.

“The squirrel was near the top of the tree,” Pink Eyes rumbled. “But I wasn’t going to let it get away. I followed it up.

Then, just as I scrambled onto the highest branch, there was—”

The old tom broke off and snapped his gaze toward the gorse.

A moment later, the barrier trembled and Thunder padded into camp. Lightning Tail trotted at his heels. The ThunderClan leader’s orange pelt glowed in the dappled sunlight. A rabbit hung from his jaws. Owl Eyes and Leaf followed, carrying prey.

“Good hunting, I see?” Cloud Spots nodded toward the rabbit.

Thunder dropped his catch. “Just wait until greenleaf.” His gaze slid toward Moth Flight.

Micah scrambled to his paws and shook out his dusty pelt. “I hope you don’t mind—”

Thunder dipped his head to Moth Flight. “We are honored by your visit.” He turned to Micah. “How is Clear Sky?”

“He’s fine.”

Lightning Tail grunted. “Does he still think he’s the best cat in the forest?”

“He knows his strengths,” Micah answered diplomatically.

Thunder snorted. “I bet he likes you.”

“He will,” Micah answered. “Eventually.”

Leaf was heading for the nursery. “Is Milkweed okay?” he called to Cloud Spots.

“She’s fine.”

Owl Eyes glanced toward the gorse barrier. “Violet Dawn asked me if you have any chervil. She’s had a bellyache all morning.”

“Where is she?” Cloud Spots’s eyes darkened with worry.

“She stopped to help Apple Blossom and Snail Shell gather moss,” Owl Eyes told him.

“I’ll get some for her,” Cloud Spots meowed. “There’s plenty in the forest.”

Micah narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you keep any in your store?”

Cloud Spots shrugged. “It’s better to pick fresh leaves this time of year,” he explained. “I’ll gather some to dry for my store in late greenleaf, when it’s starting to die back.”

Paw steps sounded beyond the gorse barrier and Thistle and Clover pushed their way into camp. They were dragging a fat wood pigeon between them.

Thunder swished his tail. “You managed to get it down the cliff!”

Clover sniffed. “Thistle threw it over the edge and we hauled it from the bottom.”

Moth Flight glanced at the battered bird, its wings splayed awkwardly. Feathers speckled the ground around it. “It was a good thing no one was underneath.”

Thistle sniffed. “Any cat who can’t hear a pigeon bouncing down a cliff needs his ears checked.”

Micah’s eyes flashed with amusement. “It looks like it hit every ledge on the way down.”

Pink Eyes padded to the pigeon and sniffed it. “At least it’ll be tender.”

Cloud Spots nodded toward the ferns. “Do you want to see my den before I go and gather chervil?”

Moth Flight nodded eagerly and followed as Cloud Spots headed across the clearing and pushed through a tunnel of ferns.

Moth Flight glanced at Micah as he stopped beside her.

“You go first.”

The yellow tom dipped his head and nosed his way after Cloud Spots. Moth Flight followed, padding through the fern tunnel, her belly fluttering with excitement. She could already smell Cloud Spot’s herbs. A small clearing opened ahead, edged by a cliff that stretched toward the top of the ravine. Water trickled down the rock, pooling at one edge, and a crack opened in the stone. Moth Flight padded toward it and sniffed, her nose twitching as the pungent herb scents grew stronger. “Do you keep your stores in there?” She peered into the darkness.

Cloud Spots brushed past her and reached into the crack. He pulled out a wad of leaves, neatly bundled and tied with grass.

He opened it and spread the herbs over the den floor.

Moth Flight glanced at them, hoping to recognize one. But they were forest herbs, lush and dark and musty-smelling.

“This is comfrey.” Cloud Spots pulled the largest leaf closer.

“I keep a few leaves in my store in case Pink Eyes is wakened in the night by aches. But the forest is full of it and I like to gather it fresh each day and line his nest with it.”

“What does it do?” Micah sniffed the furry leaf.

“It eases the pains in his joints,” Cloud Spots told him.

“Can you eat it?” Moth Flight asked.

“Yes, but wrapping sore limbs in the leaves works just as well,” Cloud Spots told her. “I’ve heard it even helps broken limbs to heal, though I’ve not yet had to try it.”

The ferns rustled and Leaf padded into the den. “Milkweed’s thirsty,” he meowed.

Cloud Spots jerked his muzzle around. “I’m sorry! I meant to give her fresh moss.”

Moth Flight frowned, puzzled. How could moss help thirst?

“I’ll take it to her.” Leaf padded toward the water pooling beside the rock. He hooked a lump of moss from a heap piled at one edge and dipped it in the water. He let it soak for a few moments, then grabbed it between his jaws and carried it, dripping, toward the fern tunnel.

As he disappeared, Moth Flight blinked. “She laps water from the moss!” Had she seen Reed Tail soaking moss in puddles on the moor? She must ask him when she got back. It was a great idea. Sick cats could stay in their nests and rest instead of roaming the moor in search of a drink.

Cloud Spots gathered up his herbs. “I’d better gather chervil for Violet Dawn. Come with me. I’ll show you some other herbs you might find useful.”

“Great!” Micah lifted his tail.

Happiness fizzed beneath Moth Flight’s fur. She was going to return to WindClan knowing so much! Cheerfully she followed Micah and Cloud Spots out of the den.

An owl hooted at the top of the ravine. Moth Flight huddled closer to Micah, searching for a glimpse of the moon through the canopy of trees. Thunder had offered them a nest beside the fallen tree. She could hear Pink Eyes snoring a tail-length away and smell the comfrey lining his nest.

The forest was black with shadow. She was used to the moor, washed silver by moonlight. Countless scents, made richer by a heavy dew, filled her nose. Trying to ignore the pressing darkness, she recalled the plants Cloud Spots had shown them, murmuring their names under her breath.

“Coltsfoot, goldenrod, feverfew, catchweed—”

“Can’t you sleep?” Micah whispered in the darkness.

“I don’t want to forget anything,” Moth Flight told him.

Micah nuzzled her ear. “He’ll show us again tomorrow,” he promised. “You’ll remember, don’t worry.”

I hope so.

“Go to sleep,” Micah murmured. “It’s been a busy day, and tomorrow might be even busier.”

Moth Flight closed her eyes and nestled against his thick fur.

It was cozy here. Snail Shell and Apple Blossom had brought back so much moss that there was enough to line their own nest.

Micah’s warm scent seeped into her thoughts as she slipped into sleep. She purred contentedly. She could easily get used to sleeping beside him every night.