Moth Flight’s Vision

Chapter 2

She crashed through the heather, hardly feeling the branches scrape her flanks, and exploded onto the grass a moment after Spotted Fur. He was already scanning the slope and she followed his gaze.

Willow Tail crouched in a dip near the edge of the gorse patch. The pale tabby she-cat was peering into a narrow rabbit burrow. “It’s all right, Silver Stripe. We’ll get you out.”

A plaintive wail answered her. “Hurry! Please! I’m scared!”

White Tail—no bigger than a rabbit-kit—appeared, nosing past Willow Tail and peering into the burrow. “She’s been there for ages!”

Black Ear paced around them, his fluffy black-and-white fur bushed out. “We tried to reach her but she’s too far down.”

They’re okay! Relief swelled in Moth Flight’s chest, then she froze. Black Ear and White Tail were safe, but what about Silver Stripe?

Spotted Fur charged toward his Clanmate. “What happened?”

Willow Tail’s ears twitched. “Looks like Silver Stripe fell into a tunnel and she can’t get out, the poor kit. She’s scared half to death but the hole’s too narrow for me to squeeze through.”

Moth Flight caught up, skidding to a halt and peering into the small gap in the grass where Silver Stripe’s wails were growing louder. “Are you hurt?” she called down.

“Not yet,” Silver Stripe squeaked nervously. “But I’m sure I can hear paw steps coming up the tunnel toward me!”

Black Ear’s eyes widened. “A badger!”

White Tail unsheathed his tiny claws. “I’ll save her.” He stuck his head into the hole and began to burrow into the tunnel.

“No you don’t!” Spotted Fur grabbed his tail between his teeth and hauled the kit backward. “We’re not losing two of you.”

Black Ear tried to scrabble free. “But what about the badger?”

“That tunnel’s too small for a badger,” Willow Tail assured him.

White Tail blinked at the tom. “What about rats?”

Moth Flight’s heart quickened, her fear spilling into anger.

“Why didn’t you just stay in camp?” she snapped at the kits.

Black Ear met her gaze innocently. “We were going to ask you if we could leave, but you were asleep.”

Willow Tail flashed her a look. “Were you supposed to be watching them?”

Moth Flight dropped her gaze guiltily. “Yes,” she confessed, her fur rippling with irritation. Why did Slate have to ask her to watch her kits? Everyone knows I’m a featherbrain!

Spotted Fur pushed past her and began tearing at the grass around the narrow tunnel entrance. “Let’s just get Silver Stripe out. I can’t smell rat scent down there, but she must be cold and hungry.”

Willow Tail nodded and hooked her claws into the earth, ripping away another clump. Together they dug out soil around the rim. Moth Flight found herself watching the grassy clods as her Clanmates flung them aside. They exploded as they hit the ground; the soil here wasn’t as dark and wet as it was on the high moor. And she noticed that the grass was softer too, nothing like the stiff grass around camp; it smelled lusher too.

“Stop staring and help!” Willow Tail’s sharp mew broke into her thoughts.

Moth Flight hopped forward, tripping over Black Ear. He squeaked as her paw squashed his tail, then dragged it free and glared at her indignantly.

“Sorry!” Moth Flight plunged her forepaws into the hole beside Spotted Fur’s and began scraping out soil. She could see Silver Stripe’s muzzle, lit by the late sunshine that broke into the widening hole. The earth was easy to scrape away—lighter and crumblier than the heavy peat higher on the moor. Moth

Flight wondered if different plants grew here and, as she helped Willow Tail and Spotted Fur dig, glanced furtively around, looking for unusual leaf shapes showing in the grass nearby.

“That should be big enough.” Willow Tail sat back on her haunches.

Spotted Fur frowned. “It’s too small for me to fit in.”

Silver Stripe was already trying to scrabble up the steep sides of the hole, yowling with frustration each time she slid down as the earth crumbled beneath her claws.

“You’re small enough to squeeze in.” Willow Tail stared at Moth Flight. “Jump down and give him a boost.”

Moth Flight hesitated. She knew that some of the WindClan cats liked running though the rabbit tunnels. Holly often took Eagle Feather and Dew Nose hunting there. But Moth Flight preferred to feel the wind in her fur.

Spotted Fur nudged her shoulder with his muzzle. “Don’t think about the dark,” he urged gently. “Silver Stripe needs help.”

Steadying her breath, Moth Flight slithered into the hole.

Her paws slipped as she reached the bottom, and she nearly fell.

A cold musky smell swirled around her. She shivered, the darkness of the tunnel pressing around her until her belly tightened with fear.

“You saved me!” Silver Stripe flung herself against Moth

Flight, purring loudly. Moth Flight suddenly realized how brave the young kit had been, trapped alone down here for so long.

She peered, blinking, into the blackness beyond the kit, wondering with a shiver how far the tunnel stretched and what might be at the end of it. She sniffed for rat scent, pricking her ears to listen for the slither of tails. Nothing. The tunnel was clear. “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she whispered into Silver Stripe’s soft ear. “I should have been watching you.”

Silver Stripe’s cold muzzle brushed her cheek. “I’m sorry we ran off,” she apologized, her mew thick.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Moth Flight ducked and tucked her nose beneath the kit’s haunches. “Jump!” she ordered, her mew muffled by fur. As Silver Stripe leaped, Moth Flight heaved her upward. She smelled Spotted Fur’s warm breath as he reached down and grabbed the kit’s scruff, scooping her into the light.

“Silver Stripe!” White Tail squeaked happily.

Black Ear mewled with excitement. “We thought rats would get you for sure.”

Spotted Fur purred. “Are you coming, Moth Flight?”

Moth Flight hardly heard him. As she stared at the ring of light above her, a sharp tang touched her nose. She opened her mouth, intrigued. There was an unfamiliar sour scent mingled in with the heavy smell of earth. She glanced down the tunnel, widening her eyes to adjust to the gloom. White roots dangled from the roof of the tunnel a tail-length away. They didn’t smell like grass roots. Or heather. Or gorse. I knew there must be special plants growing in this sandy soil! Her heart quickening, Moth Flight padded deeper into the darkness until her face brushed the roots. Sticking out her tongue, she licked them gingerly, intrigued by their sweet flavor. I wonder what the leaves of this plant look like? Moth Flight knew that she wasn’t far from the surface. Leaning back on her haunches, she began to dig upward, through the earth around the roots. If she could just claw away a few pawfuls of soil, she’d be able to drag the whole plant down and look at it properly.

“Moth Flight?” Spotted Fur’s mew echoed along the tunnel.

“Where are you?”

“Coming,” she called back absently. Dirt spilled onto her tongue as she spoke, and she coughed, spitting it out.

“Hurry up!” Willow Tail’s mew was sharper than Spotted Fur’s. “We need to get these kits back to their mother. They’re tired and hungry!”

“I won’t be long!” Moth Flight scrabbled harder at the soil above her head, screwing up her eyes against the earth, which showered her face. The roots were thicker, higher up, and she curled her claws into their flesh and tugged. They slid free, bringing pawfuls of dirt with them as Moth Flight dragged the plant down into the tunnel. Laying it on the ground, she tried to make out the shape of the leaves.

“Moth Flight!” Willow Tail sounded angry. “We need you up here!”

Moth Flight grasped the plant between her jaws and raced back along the tunnel. Reaching up, she scrambled out, thankful to feel Spotted Fur’s teeth in her scruff as he helped haul her free of the crumbling earth.

“What, in all the stars, is that?” Willow Tail stared at the plant dangling from Moth Flight’s jaws.

Moth Flight dropped it, spitting out dirt. “I don’t know,” she spluttered. “But I want to find out.”

Willow Tail glared at her. “You’re not bringing it with you,” she snapped. “These kits are two moons old and too tired to walk back to camp. They need carrying.”

Moth Flight’s heart sank. She glanced at the plant she’d unearthed. Its bright green leaves had scalloped edges and it smelled pungent—almost how she imagined RiverClan water plants would smell. “I can’t leave it behind!” She knew all the plants on the high moor. This was new! She looked hopefully at Spotted Fur. “Can’t one of the kits ride on your back?”

“I’ll ride,” Black Ear offered. His eyes were dull with tiredness. “It’s better than being carried.”

Willow Tail snorted at Moth Flight. “Do you really think he’ll have the strength to hang on to Spotted Fur’s back all the way to camp?”

Spotted Fur glanced apologetically at Moth Flight. “Willow

Tail’s right. These kits need to be carried.”

“I can make it,” Black Ear promised. “I know I can.”

“Of course you can.” Spotted Fur soothed the young kit.

“But it’ll be easier for me if you let Moth Flight carry you.”

Moth Flight sighed. “Okay.” The plant would have to wait.

“I guess I can come back and fetch this later.” She stroked the soft leaves with her paw. They felt furry.

Willow Tail’s ears twitched impatiently. “What do you want with a dead weed anyway?”

Moth Flight shrugged. “It’s interesting.”

Willow Tail shook her head, sighing. “Cats are meant to hunt prey, not plants.”

Spotted Fur nosed Black Ear gently toward Moth Flight. “If all cats were the same, life would be dull,” he meowed softly.

Willow Tail huffed disapprovingly and scooped up Silver Stripe by her scruff.

Spotted Fur lifted White Tail and Moth Flight grasped Black

Ear gently between her jaws and lifted him off the ground. He was as light as prey and she suddenly realized how vulnerable the kits had been out here on their own. A fresh flash of guilt shot though her as she followed Willow Tail and Spotted Fur up the slope toward camp.

Black Ear swung limply from her jaws. He didn’t scrabble or fidget like he did when she was trying to get him into his nest in the evenings. He must be exhausted. She quickened her pace, falling into step beside Spotted Fur.

They slid into single file as they approached a thick swath of heather. Willow Tail pushed into it first. Spotted Fur waited for Moth Flight to duck in front of him. She followed Willow Tail through the branches to where an old sheep trail cut through the bushes. Spotted Fur’s breath tickled her tail as he traced her paw steps.

As they neared the far edge of the heather patch, Willow Tail slowed. The pale tabby’s ears pricked and Moth Flight stiffened.

Had Willow Tail heard something? A badger? A dog? Moth

Flight breathed deeply, but all she could taste was Black Ear’s warm scent. Willow Tail put Silver Stripe down and pushed her way out of the heather.

“What’s wrong?” Spotted Fur slid past Moth Flight and dropped White Tail beside Silver Stripe.

Black Ear began to struggle. “What’s that smell?”

As Moth Flight placed him gently beside his littermates, she smelled the strong tang of a strange tom.

Spotted Fur’s hackles lifted. “Wait here with the kits.” He slid out of the heather after Willow Tail.

“It’s just a SkyClan tom!” Moth Flight could smell the fragrant scent of bark mingling with the tom’s own scent. It was completely different from the heathery scent of her Clanmates.

RiverClan smelled fishy, ShadowClan like pine. And ThunderClan always carried the musty scent of the leaf litter that softened the floor of their ravine.

Why were Willow Tail and Spotted Fur so edgy?

Moth Flight shooed the kits ahead of her as she nosed her way out of the heather. A large reddish-brown tom was stretching languorously on a sunlit patch of grass. She recognized him at once. She’d seen him at Gatherings. He was Red Claw. Willow Tail must know him well—they’d been rogues together before they’d chosen different Clans.

Then why was she snarling at him, her ears flat against her head?

“What are you doing on WindClan land?” Willow Tail hissed accusingly.

Moth Flight glanced questioningly toward Spotted Fur. The tabby she-cat sounded furious. Why was she so bothered about the tom? He was doing no harm.

As Spotted Fur shrugged in reply, Red Claw lifted his head and blinked at them lazily. “I came up here to enjoy the sunshine. It’s too shady in the woods.”

Willow Tail spat. “You shouldn’t be here! This is our land.”

Black Ear began to march forward, showing his teeth.

“Yeah, this is our land!” he squeaked.

Red Claw glanced at the kit, amusement brightening his gaze. “I’m not hunting. So where’s the harm?”

Spotted Tail cocked his head. “How do we know you’re not hunting?” he asked.

Willow Tail bared her teeth at Red Claw. “We don’t! Listen, I don’t want you on WindClan land. You’ll bring trouble. You always do!”

Moth Flight pricked her ears. Did Willow Tail know something about Red Claw the rest of the Clan didn’t? Was he dangerous? Moth Flight instinctively moved closer to the kits, sweeping her tail around them to draw them near.

Black Ear tried to wriggle free, but Spotted Fur froze him with a warning look.

Pushing himself to his paws, Red Claw faced Willow Tail, his eyes glittering. “You’re not WindClan’s leader,” he growled.

“Or SkyClan’s. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Willow Tail unsheathed her claws.

Spotted Fur padded between the bristling cats. “This isn’t worth fighting over,” he mewed softly. “We may not be Wind Runner, but we can certainly take this back to her and ask what she thinks. Is that what you want?”

Moth Flight shifted her paws uneasily. What would Wind Runner say? Wind Runner claimed that the borders had been established to make sure each Clan had enough prey to feed themselves, but there was more than enough prey on the moor and in the forests to feed every cat. Besides, Red Claw wasn’t even hunting. Still… Wind Runner seemed especially edgy where Clear Sky, and SkyClan, were concerned.

Red Claw was eyeing Spotted Fur with annoyance. “I’m just a tired cat enjoying a rest in a sunny clearing that happens to be a few tail-lengths across the border. Do you think your leader would care?”

Spotted Fur narrowed his eyes. “Again, I could go and ask her, if you’d like.” Red Claw scowled, and Spotted Fur went on.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. You chose to join SkyClan.

There must be a sunny clearing somewhere in your own territory.”

Red Claw’s tail flicked angrily. “Fine.” Turning away, he stalked toward the heather.

Silver Stripe stared at Moth Flight. “Who was he?”

“Just a SkyClan cat,” she said. She wasn’t entirely sure why things had gotten so tense, but she didn’t want the kits to worry.

Black Ear hopped over her tail and padded a few steps toward the grass Red Claw had flattened. His small nose was twitching with curiosity. “Are SkyClan cats bad?”

Moth Flight felt a prickle of irritation. “Of course not.

They’re just like you and me.” She didn’t understand why there had to be lines scratched between the Clans. Borders just seemed to make everyone suspicious of each other. What if there was a harsh leafbare or a dry greenleaf? Would one Clan let another starve or go thirsty rather than share their hunting lands?

Willow Tail’s pelt was still bristling. “We should follow him to make sure he leaves. You can’t trust SkyClan cats.”

Moth Flight glanced crossly at Willow Tail. “Don’t say that in front of the kits!” There was enough gossip in camp about ThunderClan cats being reckless, ShadowClan cats being unfriendly, and RiverClan cats being odd. Making up differences between the Clans was just planting trouble for the future. A new thought struck her, making her pelt prick warily. I wonder what the other Clans say about us?

“We should get the kits back to Slate,” Spotted Fur meowed.

Moth Flight was suddenly aware that White Tail was shivering against her belly. “He’s right. They’re getting cold.”

“You didn’t seem worried about that while you were digging out your precious weed.” Willow Tail stared fiercely at the heather where Red Claw had disappeared. “What if he stays on our land?”

“Who cares?” Moth Flight grasped White Tail’s scruff and began to pad toward camp, annoyed at the older she-cat. It’s not a weed, it’s a plant! And she made me leave it behind for the sake of the kits. Now she wants to go chasing after a SkyClan cat.

“I’m sure he’ll leave,” Spotted Fur assured Willow Tail, gathering her in with his tail. “Even SkyClan cats know better than to tangle with Wind Runner. Now let’s get the kits home.”

Willow Tail watched the heather for a few moments more, then sighed and began walking back toward camp. “All right.”

Soon, Moth Flight could see the dip where their camp nestled into the hillside and, after a few more paw steps, its heather walls showed against the windswept grass. They were nearly home.

Spotted Fur fell in beside her, Black Ear dangling from his jaws.

She frowned, wondering why he’d been so tough on Red Claw, then she heard a yowl.

Slate was bounding from the camp, Wind Runner at her heels.

“Are they okay? Are they safe?” Slate skidded to a halt, her eyes round with fear.

Spotted Fur placed Black Ear at her paws. “They’re a bit cold and hungry, but no harm done.”

Moth Flight put White Tail gently down. The kit ran at once to his mother and nuzzled into her soft gray flank.

Silver Stripe wailed, struggling in Willow Tail’s jaws. “I fell down a rabbit hole!” Willow Tail dropped her and she raced toward Slate. “Moth Flight had to climb down and push me out.”

“She was in there for ages!” White Tail told Slate.

“We thought a badger was going to eat her!” Black Ear added.

Slate pulled her kits to her belly, her eyes glistening even brighter with worry.

Spotted Fur brushed Moth Flight’s flank with his tail. “It was just a rabbit hole,” he told Slate. “Too small for badgers.

We had to dig it open before Moth Flight could squeeze in and rescue her.”

Moth Flight felt a wave of gratitude toward her friend.

Spotted Fur always defends me. But then she caught Wind Runner’s eye and her belly tightened.

Her mother was glaring at her. “You were asked to watch them, Moth Flight.”

Moth Flight stared at her paws, shame worming beneath her pelt. “I’m sorry.”

Slate began lapping her kits furiously. “It was my fault,” she murmured between licks. “I was in a hurry to lie down. I should have asked someone more reliable to keep an eye on them, like Fern Leaf, but she was hunting.”

Her words raked Moth Flight like claws. She glanced nervously at her mother. Wind Runner’s eyes were burning with rage.

The WindClan leader growled. “Moth Flight is old enough to know better. Her Clanmates should be able to rely on her.”

Moth Flight shifted her paws. “It won’t happen again,” she mumbled.

“I wish I could believe you,” Wind Runner hissed. “How does it look to the Clan if my own kit can’t be trusted?”

Moth Flight flinched. Why did her mother have to be the Clan leader? Everything I do must be an example to the Clan!

And if she got anything wrong, she was letting the whole Clan down. Resentment burned in her belly as she watched Slate fussing over her kits. I bet she doesn’t expect them to be perfect all the time!

Gray fur flashed at the camp entrance. Her father, Gorse Fur, was hurrying toward them, Dust Muzzle and Fern Leaf at his heels. “You found them!” He stared proudly at Moth Flight.

“She lost them!” Wind Runner snapped.

Dust Muzzle’s eyes rounded with sympathy as he caught sight of Moth Flight. She saw him exchange glances with Spotted Fur. This was so humiliating. Did Wind Runner have to scold her in front of every cat?

Spotted Fur seemed to guess her thoughts. “Let’s get the kits into camp,” he suggested. “It’s more sheltered there.” Wind was tugging at their fur. He began to nose Silver Stripe, Black Ear, and White Tail toward the camp entrance, then glanced at Willow Tail. “Are you coming?”

The pale tabby shook her head. “I’m going to follow Red Claw’s scent,” she growled. “I want to make sure he crossed the border.”

Wind Runner narrowed her eyes. “Was Red Claw on our land?”

Moth Flight lifted her head sharply. “He wasn’t hunting. He just wanted to lie in the sun.”

“They have sun in SkyClan,” Wind Runner answered sharply. She nodded toward Willow Tail. “Go make sure he’s left our territory.”

“I’ll go with you,” Fern Leaf offered, following Willow Tail.

“Why do we have to have all this fuss about borders?” Moth

Flight blurted.

Wind Runner silenced her with a look. “You weren’t around for the great battle. If you had been, you’d understand.” There was darkness in her gaze.

Moth Flight curled her claws into the ground. I don’t know why I bother opening my mouth. Her fur pricked angrily along her spine as Willow Tail headed away. Then she remembered her plant. She had to fetch it before a rabbit ate it or the wind blew it away. She turned and began to pad downslope.

“Where are you going?” Wind Runner snapped.

Moth Flight halted. What was wrong now? “I have to fetch a new plant I discovered.”

“No you don’t.” Wind Runner’s mew was hard with anger.

Gorse Fur nosed past the Clan leader and met Moth Flight’s gaze. “Your mother wants us to go hunting together.”

But my plant! Moth Flight’s heart sank. What was the point in arguing? Wind Runner would never understand.

Dust Muzzle weaved around her. “Come on,” he murmured to her softly. “Hunting will put us all in a good mood.” He snatched a glance at Wind Runner.

Moth Flight huffed. “Yeah, right.”

Gorse Fur sniffed the air. “I smell rabbit!” Lifting his tail, he raced across the grass. Wind Runner shot Moth Flight a final searing look, and bounded after him.

Dust Muzzle nudged Moth Flight with his shoulder. “Come on. She can’t be angry forever.”

Moth Flight stared after her mother. The lithe tabby moved with expert speed across the grass, her tail low, and her shoulders pumping rhythmically. Why did Wind Runner have to be so good at everything?

Dust Muzzle darted away. “I’ll race you!” he called over his shoulder.

Moth Flight hurried after him, her heart like a stone in her chest. Her brother’s words rang in her ears as her paws thrummed the earth. She can’t be angry forever. Wind streamed through her fur.

With a daughter like me, she probably can.