Moth Flight’s Vision

Chapter 3

Gorse Fur pulled up sharply as the slope steepened toward the moortop. Moth Flight was out of breath and relieved to see Wind Runner halt beside her mate. Dust Muzzle reached them first. She couldn’t help noticing that he was hardly panting as she scrambled to a halt beside him.

Wind Runner surveyed the moor, her pelt rippling the chilly breeze. Moth Flight gazed past her, staring across the wide valley that dipped behind them to Highstones. The sun burned orange in the pale blue sky and, as it sank toward the craggy peaks, Moth Flight watched their vast shadow fall across the moor and fold it in darkness. She suddenly felt very small.

“Moth Flight!” Her mother’s stern mew made her jump.

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

Moth Flight stared in dismay. No.

“I told you to go with Dust Muzzle and hunt out the prey around that gorse patch.” Wind Runner nodded toward a clump of prickly bushes downslope. “Gorse Fur and I will check the high burrows for rabbits.”

Dust Muzzle frowned. “Can’t I hunt rabbits too?”

“Stay with your sister,” Wind Runner told him. “She’s not fast enough for rabbits and if I let her hunt alone, she’ll probably end up bringing home nothing but leaves.” She stared at Moth Flight. “And leaves don’t fill empty bellies.”

Moth Flight turned away and stomped down the slope.

Dust Muzzle quickly caught up. “Ignore her,” he advised.

“Her bad mood won’t last.”

“It’s my fault she’s in a bad mood in the first place.” Moth

Flight padded on, not looking at her brother. “She’s going to torture me all day just because I fell asleep.”

“You were supposed to be looking after Slate’s kits,” Dust Muzzle reminded her gently.

“They were okay, weren’t they? I rescued them!” Moth

Flight lashed her tail. It wasn’t like she didn’t try to be a good cat. “Why can’t Wind Runner be pleased with that?”

Dust Muzzle didn’t answer, but walked closer to Moth

Flight, his pelt brushing hers. “Let’s forget about it and catch something tasty.” He slowed as they neared the gorse.

The grass around the prickly bushes rippled like water in the wind. Moth Flight flattened her ears to block out the sound of the breeze. She tasted the air, hoping for prey scent. Dust

Muzzle was right. If she could take home some prey, Wind Runner would be pleased, surely?

Dust Muzzle halted. “I wonder if Willow Tail caught up with Red Claw?”

“I hope not.” Moth Flight remembered Willow Tail’s anger at the SkyClan cat. “What if she starts a fight? She might get hurt.”

“She wouldn’t attack him on her own.” Dust Muzzle lifted his muzzle, tasting the air. “She’s not a rabbit-brain.”

“But she seemed so angry with him.” Moth Flight fretted. “I know he was on our land, but he wasn’t hunting. It was like Willow Tail wanted to pick a fight with him.”

“Maybe.” Dust Muzzle’s gaze was fixed on the shadows beneath the gorse. “But she and Wind Runner were right, too: They have sunny clearings on SkyClan territory. Maybe he was up to something.”

“Maybe,” Moth Flight murmured. But she didn’t believe it.

Am I crazy to trust Red Claw?

“Anyway,” Dust Muzzle went on, “the next Gathering’s the day after tomorrow. We can see if she causes more trouble then.”

Moth Flight was still thinking. “They were rogues together,” she began, relishing the gossip. It was a nice change from worrying about Wind Runner. But as she spoke, Dust Muzzle dropped into a crouch.

Moth Flight froze and followed his gaze. A shrew was rooting in the grass below a gorse branch.

Her paws itched with excitement. “Let me catch it!” she whispered.

Dust Muzzle gave a tiny nod, his gaze still on the shrew.

Sinking low, Moth Flight crept forward. The shrew buried its snout deep into the grass. It has no idea I’m here. Delighted, Moth Flight leaped, pushing hard with her hind legs. Too hard!

She sailed into the gorse, crashing through the branches. The prickles stabbed her nose and she screwed up her eyes to protect them. Recoiling with a yowl, she tripped over Dust Muzzle as he darted past her.

Finding her paws, she rubbed her nose, wincing at the sting.

A moment later Dust Muzzle scrambled from beneath the bush. The shrew dangled from his jaws, dead.

“You got it!” Moth Flight blinked at him proudly. “I wish I was as good at hunting as you.”

Dust Muzzle laid the shrew at her paws. “You will be one day. Until then, why don’t we tell Wind Runner you caught this?”

Moth Flight bristled. “I don’t need your help!” she snapped, then felt instantly guilty as hurt flashed in her brother’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. That’s really kind of you. But I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. I’m useless at hunting.”

“You just need practice.” Dust Muzzle leaned forward and licked her nose. “You’re bleeding,” he mewed as he pulled away.

“I am?” Moth Flight sighed. Wind Runner would guess she’d crashed into the gorse bush.

“Give it a wash,” Dust Muzzle suggested. “It’ll hardly show.” He scooped up the shrew and headed upslope.

“Aren’t we hunting anymore?” Moth Flight called after him.

“I think we’ve frightened away all the prey around here.”

Dust Muzzle’s mew was muffled by the shrew. “Let’s help Wind Runner and Gorse Fur hunt rabbits.”

Moth Flight followed him, her ears twitching. She’d ruined the hunt.

As they neared the burrows dotting the high moor, Moth

Flight was surprised to see her parents sitting side by side. Why weren’t they hunting? They faced Highstones, their backs to Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle. Wind ruffled their fur, and their heads were bent in conversation.

Their words caught on the wind as she and Dust Muzzle neared.

“Don’t be so hard on her.” Gorse Fur was pleading.

Moth Flight slowed, Dust Muzzle slowing with her.

“It’s about time she grew up and took responsibility,” Wind Runner snapped. “She’s not a kit anymore. I don’t make allowances for the rest of my Clan! Why should I make them for her?”

Moth Flight felt Dust Muzzle glance at her. Her pelt prickled uncomfortably along her spine and she didn’t return his gaze.

Her parents were talking about her!

“She’s not irresponsible,” Gorse Fur argued, his tone hardening. “She just notices things other cats don’t. She gets distracted, that’s all.”

“When there are mouths to feed and kits to protect, she shouldn’t be distracted,” Wind Runner’s tail lashed behind her.

“Dust Muzzle isn’t always getting into trouble. Why can’t she be more like him?”

“Dust Muzzle will make a fine hunter one day, but Moth

Flight is special,” Gorse Fur pressed. “Can’t you see that?”

Wind Runner stared at her mate, blankly. “WindClan doesn’t need special cats. It needs hunters and fighters!”

Special! Moth Flight growled. “They think I’m rabbit-brained!” she said softly.

Dust Muzzle dropped the shrew. “Gorse Fur is just trying to explain that you’re different from other cats.”

Moth Flight glared at him. “Y ou think I’m different, too?”

“Not in a bad way.” Dust Muzzle blinked at her uneasily.

“I don’t want to be different!” Moth Flight hissed.

“Moth Flight!” Gorse Fur turned. “Are you two back already?” His mew was sharp with surprise.

Wind Runner was staring at the shrew. “Is that all you caught?”

“That’s all there was,” Dust Muzzle dipped his head.

Wind Runner snorted. “I suppose Moth Flight tripped over her tail and scared the other prey away.”

Moth Flight couldn’t meet her mother’s gaze. She’d guessed right away that it was her fault, without even noticing the scratch on her nose. Moth Flight clenched her teeth, anger and hurt pulsing through her. I can be just as good as any other Clan cat! Determined to impress her mother, she scanned the moortop desperately for something she could catch. With a rush of relief she spotted a lapwing, stalking through the rippling grass beyond the rise. She dropped into a crouch and padded toward it.

Just watch me!

The lapwing was stabbing its beak into the earth, twitching as it caught something and began to tug.

Moth Flight’s breathing quickened as she willed the bird’s prey to resist and keep the lapwing distracted. Just for a few moments! She was a fox-length away now, her tail swishing over the grass with excitement.

The lapwing froze, its eye catching sight of her and sparking with panic.

Moth Flight leaped, stretching out her paws wildly as the lapwing flapped into the air. She tried to reach up, twisting. Her claw grazed a talon as the wind from its wings blasted her face and she landed with a whump on her side.

Embarrassed, she scrambled to her paws. I nearly had it!

Disappointment swamped her as she looked around to see Wind Runner shaking her head sadly.

Gorse Fur hurried toward her. “Great try, Moth Flight.”

Dust Muzzle followed close at his father’s paws. “Lapwings are hard to catch,” he sympathized.

Gorse Fur stopped beside her. “Your tail gave you away,” he told her gently. “No matter how excited you feel, you must keep it still and lift it just above the ground so you can move silently.

We might be smarter than prey, but prey knows what to listen for and, if it hears anything unusual, instinct will send it fleeing in the blink of an eye.”

Moth Flight hung her head. “I let it get away.”

“Don’t worry,” Gorse Fur told her cheerfully. “You’ve learned something. That’s what’s important. You’ll be catching lapwings before long.”

“Dust Muzzle caught one a few days ago,” Moth Flight mumbled miserably.

“Dust Muzzle’s had more practice than you,” Gorse Fur reassured her.

I’m so sorry. Moth Flight knew that Gorse Fur must feel as disappointed in her as Wind Runner, despite his kind words. She shook out her fur and looked at him as brightly as she could manage. “I’ll get better, I promise.”

He purred. “Of course you will.”

She glanced toward Wind Runner, but her mother was crouching beside a burrow entrance, her ears pricked and her gaze fixed on the dark opening.

Gorse Fur followed her gaze. “I’d better go and help,” he meowed. “Why don’t you join me?” He glanced from Moth

Flight to Dust Muzzle, but Dust Muzzle’s attention was fixed on the grassy slope. His ears were pricked and he opened his mouth as though tasting for prey.

“I’ll be back after I’ve caught that vole,” he whispered, heading downslope. He crossed the grass, his paw steps silent, his tail still.

Gorse Fur nudged Moth Flight toward the rabbit burrows.

“If you see a rabbit running, do you remember what to do?”

Moth Flight frowned. “Chase it?” she offered hopefully.

Gorse Fur’s ear twitched. “Head where it’s looking and cut off its escape route. Outrunning a rabbit is hard. Outthinking it is easy.”

He quickened his pace, breaking into a trot. Moth Flight followed slowly, sighing as her father caught up with Wind Runner. The Clan leader beckoned her mate on with a flick of her muzzle and he raced away to another hole farther along the rise.

Moth Flight wound her way around the burrows dotting the rise. She wanted to keep her distance from Wind Runner. If her mother managed to flush out a young rabbit, she didn’t want to scare it down another hole.

The sun was touching Highstones, turning the peaks orange.

Moth Flight shivered as the evening chill reached through her fur. She remembered her dream. It had been so vivid it was hard to believe that she hadn’t actually been there while the blue-gray cat died beside her friends. But she didn’t die! Moth Flight frowned. She came back to life… after she looked so lifeless.

She remembered the fear in the eyes of the flame-pelted tom and the dark, unreadable gaze of the tabby. She could almost believe that these cats were real, not just figments of her imagination. When the blue-gray cat had suddenly twitched after such stillness, none of the cats had seemed shocked—only relieved. It was as if they knew it would happen!

“Moth Flight!”

Wind Runner’s cry sounded at the edge of her thoughts, no more than the rushing of the wind. She hardly heard her mother.

Her thoughts were filled with her dream. The blood on the blue-gray cat’s fur had spread so quickly through her matted pelt.

How could any cat have survived such a wound?

“Moth Flight!” Wind Runner’s angry yowl pierced her ear fur. A rabbit pelted past her, then her mother’s pelt flashed at the edge of her vision and she heard grass tear beneath skidding claws as Wind Runner slowed to a halt a tail-length away. The rabbit veered downslope, easily avoiding Gorse Fur, who was crouched beyond the rise, and darted down a hole.

“You birdbrain!” Wind Runner turned on Moth Flight, her mew hot with rage. She seemed to be swallowing back a snarl.

“If you weren’t going to catch it, you should have gotten out of my way so I could have driven it into Gorse Fur’s paws!”

Moth Flight stared at her, stricken with horror. I’ve done it again! Panic flashed through her. Why do I always get it wrong?

“I’m so sorry!”

Wind Runner seemed to be trying to stop herself from shaking as she glared at her daughter. “You were supposed to be helping,” she meowed slowly, her words clipped.

“I know.” Moth Flight stared dejectedly at her paws. “I was just remembering a dream I had. It was so vivid, I sort of…”

She searched for words, knowing that no matter what she said, her mother wouldn’t understand. “…I sort of got lost in it.”

Gorse Fur galloped toward them. “Moth Flight.” There was more pity than anger in his mew. “You need to try to pay attention.”

“How many times do I have to remind you?” As Wind Runner started another lecture, Moth Flight’s shoulders sank. “A hungry clan is a vulnerable clan. With empty bellies, we are prey to disease and attacks from rogues. What if a dog is loose on the moor? Our cats need the strength to outrun it.”

Moth Flight lifted her head to meet her mother’s gaze. “I’m sorr—” She stopped, her breath catching in her throat. Wide, green wings were fluttering a tail-length away.

The moth!

There it was! Dancing over the grass, whipped one way then the other by the buffeting wind. Just like the one in my dream!

Moth Flight’s heart soared. Suddenly she was swamped by the same longing to follow the beautiful moth that had filled her dream. Her paws itched to run after it. I have to catch up with it!

With a purr of delight, she pelted after it.

“Moth Flight!”

She hardly heard her mother’s yowl. Wind rushed past her ears as she chased the moth across the grass.