Moth Flight’s Vision

Chapter 6

Moth Flight opened her eyes, stiffening as darkness pressed around her. It wasn’t the glittering darkness of a starlit night, but a stifling gloom. The air smelled dank, sharp with the mineral taste of stone. She blinked, surprised to find herself standing, cold rock beneath her paws.

Where am I? Where’s Spotted Fur?

She glanced around, looking for her Clanmate and wondering what had happened to the beech hedge. All she could make out in the shadows was stone. Above her, a small opening let starlight filter in. It pooled on a large rock jutting from the floor.

I’m in a cave! With a start, she realized that she was dreaming. But it feels so real! The cold stone made her paws ache. The damp air chilled her pelt. Moth Flight shivered as she gazed at the rock, looming at the center of the cave. Padding forward, she sniffed it. Her whiskers tingled and her heart quickened. What is this place? Something about the stone seemed to carry the promise of a coming storm, thickening the air around it so that Moth Flight expected, any moment, to feel the cave shudder with thunder.

Someone’s coming!

Her ears twitched as she heard the sound of paw steps echoing toward her. She turned and saw a dark shadow on the side of the cave. A tunnel! Two cats emerged, their fur pale as weak starlight lit their pelts.

Moth Flight could make out the shapes of a gray tom and a long-furred she-cat. I know her! Her heart leaped as she recognized the cat she’d watched struggle back from the brink of death. She darted forward, excited to see the she-cat healthy and strong. Her thick fur looked well-groomed; her eyes shone brightly in the half-light. She looks younger! Moth Flight tipped her head, confused.

Why was she dreaming about the same cat? And why did it feel vivid enough to be real?

“Who are you?” Her mew echoed across the cave, but the cats didn’t seem to hear. Their gaze was fixed on the great rock as they padded toward it, the gray she-cat slowing as she approached.

“Please talk to me!” Moth Flight hurried to their side, reaching out a paw to touch the gray she-cat. But, as in her last dream, her paw passed through the other cat as though she were mist.

The tom’s mouth moved. The gray she-cat dragged her gaze from the rock and nodded.

Why can’t I hear them? Moth Flight burned with frustration.

Unease seemed to glitter in the she-cat’s gaze as she approached the rock and lay down before it. She glanced up and Moth Flight followed her gaze.

Through the hole in the roof, she could see the moon rising.

Delight fizzed through Moth Flight’s pelt as its rays turned the stone silver. It’s so beautiful here!

The she-cat closed her eyes.

Moth Flight leaned closer. What now?

Suddenly, the cave exploded with light—a flash more blinding than lightning. Moth Flight’s eyes—stretched wide for the darkness—burned. She screwed them shut, shaking. Then, slowly she opened them to narrow slits.

Through the glare, she saw the gray she-cat reach forward and touch her nose to the glittering stone.

What’s happening? Moth Flight leaned forward, desperate to understand. Curiosity seared through her pelt. The gray she-cat grew as still as the rock itself. A tail-length away, the tom had curled on the floor, his eyes closed.

Moth Flight padded around the gray-she cat, her belly fluttering with excitement. Then pelts moved around her. Moth

Flight gasped. The cave was suddenly filled with cats.

Where had they come from?

She blinked in shock as she realized their pelts were translucent and shimmered as though water rippled through their fur, reflecting starlight.

Spirit-cats! Moth Flight had heard tales of ghostly ancestors appearing at Fourtrees after the great battle. They had shared tongues with the Clan leaders and brought peace to the warring cats. They had appeared in the moons since, but she had never seen them herself.

She stiffened. If they were ancestors, Gray Wing might be among them. Eagerly, she scanned the starry pelts. There was no sign of him.

A great tom padded to the gray she-cat’s side. Leaning down, he touched his nose to the top of her head.

The she-cat flinched as though pain flared through her, but she did not move from her spot, or open her eyes. The tom’s mouth moved as he spoke but Moth Flight couldn’t make out the words. Then he backed away and the gray-she cat grew limp once more.

With a rush of hope, Moth Flight wondered if the spirit-cat could see her. The dead could speak to the living, after all. Why shouldn’t they be able to see a dream-cat? She lifted her chin challengingly. “What’s happening? Why are you here?” Her mew hung in the air. No echo rang from the walls. No cat looked at her.

Disappointed, she weaved among them, longing to feel their pelts brush hers. But it was like she wasn’t there!

A small brown tom padded forward, his sparkling pelt camouflaged against the shimmering of the stone as he stopped beside the gray she-cat. He touched his nose to the she-cat’s head, and once more she flinched violently.

Moth Flight gazed sadly at the ranks of starry cats. “I wish you could hear me.” Suddenly she felt very alone and small. For a moment she wanted to escape this dream and return to her warm nest beside Spotted Fur. Then a familiar color flashed at the edge of the cave. The pale green of the moth’s wings fluttered beyond the starry cats. It was hovering at the tunnel entrance, where the gray tom and she-cat had entered.

Moth Flight’s breath caught in her throat. She knew she must follow it. Passing through the circle of starry cats, she hurried into the darkness beyond.

The smell of damp leaves filled her nose. As her eyes blinked open, she heard Spotted Fur’s gentle snoring.

Disappointment dropped like a stone in her chest. I’m awake!

She was back in her nest, lying beside Spotted Fur. The beech leaves rattled overhead. An owl called from close by. Moth

Flight lifted her nose from her paws and peeked out across the moonlit field. Frost sparkled on the furrows. Where is my moth now? With a flash of understanding, Moth Flight knew. It’s waiting to lead me! But where? And when? Why did it always seem to disappear just as she was starting to follow it?

Determination hardened in Moth Flight’s belly. This isn’t supposed to be easy. It doesn’t want me to give up! She stood up and slid from beneath the hedge, fluffing her fur against the cold. Dawn was lighting the sky beyond the looming moortop.

Spotted Fur would be awake soon. There was no time to waste.

How could she even think of returning to her Clan now?

Perhaps she was being foolish; perhaps she was wrong; perhaps the moth was nothing but a dream. But if Moth Flight went home now, she’d never stop wondering whether something important was waiting for her far from home.

I can’t leave Spotted Fur without telling him. If she was going to send him home without her, he had a right to know why. She dropped onto her belly and leaned into the nest, the warm smell of him filling her nose. Her heart ached. She was going to miss her Clan. But she had to follow her heart.

Stretching forward a paw, she prodded Spotted Fur.

Grunting, he lifted his head.

“I have to go,” Moth Flight whispered.

Struggling to open his eyes, he peered at her blearily.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I know it seems crazy but I know that there’s something I need to do. I can’t go home until I’ve done it. And if I don’t leave now, I may never have the chance again.”

Spotted Fur licked his lips, as though he was still lost in a dream. “No more toads,” he mumbled, his eyes slipping shut.

With a sigh, he rested his nose back onto his paws.

Moth Flight gazed at him, wondering if he’d even heard her.

She leaned forward and touched her nose to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Spotted Fur,” she repeated. Guilt pricked her heart as she wriggled backward, out of the hedge. “Good-bye. I hope we’ll see each other again.” She straightened, shaking leaf dust from her pelt. Glancing across the field, she wondered which way to head.

The moor lay behind her, Highstones ahead. Lifting her tail she padded forward, following the hedgerow until it turned, and then squeezed under it onto a dirt track beyond. A ditch ran beside the track, water swirling along the bottom. Moth Flight jumped into it, flinching as the cold water swallowed her paws.

Then she waded downstream, pleased that the narrow brook would wash away all scent of her. Spotted Fur wouldn’t be able to follow her trail. Whatever she was supposed to do, she knew that she must do it alone.