Moth Flight’s Vision

Chapter 29

“Slate!” Moth Flight called across the clearing. “Will you keep an eye on my kits while I check on Rocky?”

Honey Pelt slid under her belly. “We don’t need anyone to watch us! We’re nearly two moons old.”

Moth Flight smoothed his ruffled fur, sweeping her tail along his spine. “I just want to know someone’s looking out for you.”

Spider Paw sniffed. “What can happen to us in camp?”

Bubbling Stream was rolling in the sun-warmed earth of the sandy hollow, like a sparrow taking a dust bath. Blue Whisker watched her from the edge, her pelt pricking as though the thought of getting dusty horrified her.

Slate looked up blearily from where she’d been dozing in the early morning sunshine. “I’m coming.” She got stiffly to her paws.

Moth Flight guessed that last night’s Gathering had left the she-cat sleepy. Her thick, gray fur looked matted, as though she hadn’t even washed. Moth Flight felt a flash of guilt. Perhaps she should let Slate rest. But Rocky had come to her den, just as Spotted Fur and Reed Tail were leaving for the dawn patrol.

He’d been awake all night with aching joints. She had to help him.

She glanced at Honey Pelt, her heart pricking as she remembered Tiny Branch. She wanted to gather her kits to her belly—as she had when they were newly born—and keep them safely wrapped against her. But they were growing. They wanted to run and explore.

Rocky needs me more right now.

Fighting to save Tiny Branch’s life had reminded her how important her duties were to her Clan. Leaders talked of border patrols and battles; medicine cats were the ones who had to heal the wounds afterward. Unease itched beneath her pelt; could she have saved Tiny Branch? What if Clear Sky had let Acorn Fur call her sooner? What if Wind Runner hadn’t delayed her at Fourtrees? What if I knew more?

There was so much to be learned. She was determined to devote her life to her skill. It would help every cat.

“Moth Flight?”

She half heard Spider Paw’s mew. She looked up as he repeated her name.

“Moth Flight!” He was plucking at the grass outside their den. “Why can’t we go onto the moor?”

Moth Flight blinked at him, still half lost in her thoughts.

“What, dear?”

“Why can’t we go out onto the moor?” Spider Paw repeated crossly.

“There are buzzards out there that might carry you off,” Moth Flight reminded him. “And foxes and Twoleg dogs. It’s not safe until you’re big enough to run or fight.”

Honey Pelt dropped into an attack pounce, wriggled his hindquarters, and leaped onto his brother. “We can fight!” he squeaked as Spider Paw struggled beneath him. They rolled, wrestling, across the grass.

“Be careful!” Moth Flight flinched as she saw Spider Paw’s unsheathed claws. “When you’re play fighting, remember to pull in your claws!”

Slate was padding across the clearing, her shoulders drooping.

She looks so tired. Moth Flight frowned. I hope she doesn’t fall asleep while I’m gone.

She glanced around the camp, hoping to find another cat willing to watch her kits while she tended to Rocky. But the clearing was deserted. Wind Runner had assigned patrols for the day. Gorse Fur had taken Storm Pelt, Dew Nose, and Swift Minnow to flush out rabbits from their burrows on the moortop.

Dust Muzzle and Fern Leaf had led a patrol toward the gorge to find lapwings, while Jagged Peak and Holly had gone to gather heather for new nests. Only StarClan knew where Willow Tail was. The pale tabby hardly seemed to be in camp at all these days.

Spotted Fur and Reed Tail were sharing prey at the far end of the camp. Moth Flight blinked at them hopefully, but they were deep in conversation, lying in the long grass, relaxing after their dawn patrol.

Wind Runner lay, stretched on the rocks, beside the entrance. Moth Flight narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was asking her mother for help. They hadn’t spoken since the Gathering the night before. Slate would have to do.

Moth Flight watched the gray she-cat settle awkwardly beside the sandy hollow. “Call me if you need me,” Moth Flight told her, hoping she wouldn’t. She ducked into her den and pulled a wad of comfrey from her herb store. She’d gathered it yesterday and it was nicely wilted. It would be easy to wrap around Rocky’s stiff joints. She’d gather more later and line Rocky’s nest.

She was about to grab the bundle between her jaws when she hesitated. Glancing back at her stores, she grabbed a few extra leaves and rolled them up with the comfrey. Then she padded into the sunshine and crossed the tussocks to Rocky’s den.

She was pleased that her Clanmates had woven a shelter for the old tom. Holly was an expert at threading gorse and brambles into roofs and walls. Moth Flight had been dimly aware of the building work while she’d nursed her kits. She’d heard Holly’s mew issuing instructions and ordering her Clanmates to find more stems and sprigs for the den. She’d even made sure any gaps had been filled with moss and leaves, so that, as Moth Flight padded inside, shadow swept her sun-warmed pelt.

Rocky blinked at her through the gloom. “Moth Flight?” His mew was tight. He must be in a lot of pain.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so long,” Moth Flight dropped the comfrey guiltily beside his nest. “I had to find someone to watch my kits.”

Rocky grunted. “I wish I could watch them for you.”

“You can, once these herbs start to make you feel better.”

She unrolled the bundle and hooked out the extra leaves she’d tucked among them. “Eat these.” She laid the leaves on the side of his nest.

Rocky’s eyes gleamed. “Catmint.”

“I thought it’d help.”

Rocky purred, lapping them up.

As he closed his eyes contently, Moth Flight leaned into his nest and began wrapping his hind legs with the comfrey. “Once the sap seeps through your fur, the pain will start to ease,” she promised. “We need to make sure that your nest is lined with comfrey in the future. Now that White Tail, Silver Stripe, and Black Ear are old enough to go onto the moor, I’m sure they’ll be happy to gather fresh leaves for you.” Soon they’ll be old enough to become apprentices, Moth Flight thought, wondering which of the older cats would be chosen to teach the adolescents the finer points of hunting and caring for the Clan. It seemed like just yesterday she was helping fish Silver Stripe out of the tunnel. It’s amazing how fast the kits grow.

“Mmmmm.” Rocky was still purring.

Pleasure warmed Moth Flight’s pelt. Last night, as she’d fought to save Tiny Branch, she’d felt powerless. Now satisfaction moved deep in her belly as she eased her Clanmate’s pain.

“Moth Flight!” A pained shriek sounded outside.

She dropped the comfrey and darted from the den. Beside the tall rock, at the head of the sandy hollow, Slate crouched over Blue Whisker.

The kit was lying motionless on the ground.

Spider Paw and Honey Pelt pressed around Slate while

Bubbling Stream hung back, her eyes wide with shock.

“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,” Moth 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.

The SkyClan leader padded slowly out.

Moth Flight blinked. Clear Sky’s eyes were hollow. His pelt was matted and slicked against his broad frame. He looked as though he’d been dragged from a river.

Star Flower followed him. Grief glistened, still fresh, in her eyes. She stared blankly at Moth Flight. “What’s she doing here?”

“We found her on our land,” Alder told the she-cat. “She was with a Clanmate.”

Clear Sky padded closer, confusion clouding his stricken gaze. “No cat is allowed on SkyClan land,” he mumbled.

“I had to come,” Moth Flight told him. “I need bark from the tree where Micah died. It’s to cure a sick Clanmate. She’s got redcough. She might die.” She waited for Clear Sky to understand. But he only stared at her.

“No cat is allowed on SkyClan land,” he repeated.

“I need the bark!” Moth Flight glared at him. “I know you’re grieving and I hate to disturb you. We don’t want to disturb you.

We just want to take the bark and go.”

“No.” Clear Sky slowly lifted his head, his gaze clearing.

“Last night, you tried to save Tiny Branch, and I will always be grateful for that. But if Wind Runner hadn’t tried to stop you from coming, my kit might still be alive. Wind Runner has to realize that there are consequences for her actions. She has to admit her mistake.”

Cold fear rippled along Moth Flight’s spine. There was darkness in the SkyClan leader’s words. He is capable of more cruelty than you can imagine. “What are you going to do?”

“To you?” His ear twitched. “Nothing.”

Moth Flight heard paw steps. Pelts moved at the edge of her vision. She smelled the scents of Alder and Red Claw as they closed in behind her.

Clear Sky went on. “You will simply be our guest until Wind Runner comes to fetch you.”

“She won’t come here!” Panic flashed through Moth Flight.

She can’t come here. It’s not safe!

“She must.” Clear Sky sat down heavily. “She has accused us of stealing prey. She has stolen prey herself. And why?”

Moth Flight stared at him. Did he expect an answer?

He went on. “She has listened to the word of a rogue and believed it over the word of a mountain cat.” He glanced at Star

Flower. “It’s hardly surprising. Wind Runner was a rogue herself once.”

“What are you talking about?” Moth Flight felt lost. “What rogue?”

“Willow Tail.”

Moth Flight shifted her paws uneasily. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been talking to Red Claw,” Clear Sky told her. “He and Willow Tail go back a long way. Willow Tail has been lying for moons. She’s been spreading half-truths and stirring up trouble just to settle scores that have nothing to do with the Clans.”

Moth Flight shifted her paws nervously. She had no idea if what Clear Sky was saying was true. But she could see a way out. “Why don’t I go and tell Wind Runner this?” I can take the bark back with me.

“No!” Clear Sky snarled. “You will stay here until Wind Runner comes to me, admits her mistake, and banishes Willow

Tail from her Clan.”

“She’ll never do that!” The words burst out before Moth

Flight could stop them. Wind Runner was far too proud to come groveling to Clear Sky. And too proud to banish Willow Tail.

By banishing Willow Tail, Wind Runner would be admitting she had made a mistake by letting the she-cat join her Clan. It simply wasn’t something Wind Runner would do.

“She will,” Clear Sky meowed. “We just have to wait.”

“How long are you going to keep me prisoner?” Moth Flight snarled. Her thoughts skipped from Slate to her kits. How dare he keep her from them? They needed her!

“For as long as it takes.”

Moth Flight glared at the SkyClan leader. “You can’t do this!”

His tail twitched menacingly. “This is my territory,” he growled. “I can do anything I like.”