Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

Moth Flight blinked at him anxiously. His pelt was bushed.

“I didn’t expect you to wait for me in the middle.”

“I didn’t expect you to stand daydreaming at the side!”

“Next time, don’t wait for me,” she told him. “I get distracted.”

Micah’s ears twitched uneasily.

“Are there any

Thunderpaths on the moor?”

“No.”

“Good.”

They climbed the slope in silence. As they reached the top, the setting sun warmed Moth Flight’s back for a moment before it slipped behind Highstones. She stopped and blinked through the dusky half-light. She could smell WindClan scents clinging to the gorse ahead. And the heather, fragrant with evening dew.

Her paws pricked with happiness. She was home!

She glanced at Micah. It was strange to have him beside her.

She was used to crossing this grass with her Clanmates. Was he nervous? He was entering unknown territory. “Are you ready?”

Micah gazed across the moor sloping away in front of them.

The forest stood beyond, no more than a shadow against the purpling sky now. He lifted his tail. “I’m ready.”

“Follow me.” Moth Flight headed toward the gorse, weaving between the thickly clustered bushes. Flower buds had begun to unfurl since she’d left and their sweet perfume filled her nose.

She quickened her pace as they reached an open stretch of grass.

“How long have the Clans lived here?” Micah trotted at her side.

“Not too long. We were one big group once,” Moth Flight explained. “But we split into Clans moons ago. Some preferred the pine forest, some preferred the oaks. Some wanted to live beside the river.” She glanced sideways at Micah. “They swim .”

“They swim ?” Micah’s ears twitched. “Why?”

“Only the stars know.” Moth Flight had never understood any cat who enjoyed getting their fur wet. “Wind Runner and Gorse Fur have always been moor cats. So that’s where we live.” She pointed her muzzle toward the shadowy dip in the hillside that enclosed the camp.

Micah narrowed his eyes. Moth Flight wished she could tell what he was thinking.

She broke into a run. She didn’t want him to lose his nerve.

“Come on.” The full moon was rising into a clear sky. “They’ll be heading to Fourtrees soon. I have to speak to Wind Runner before she leaves.”

She smelled Spotted Fur’s scent as she ducked into a swath of heather. The golden-brown tom had followed this path through the bushes earlier and, by the smell of it, Dust Muzzle had been with him. Their scents rose from the earth. Wait till I tell them where I’ve been! Excitement buzzed beneath her pelt.

Wind Runner will have to believe me! She suddenly felt sure that she could convince her mother she’d spoken to Half Moon. She may think I’m a featherbrain but she knows I wouldn’t lie. She could hear Micah panting behind her and the heather swishing against their pelts as she led him zigzagging through it.

“Are we nearly there?” he puffed.

“It’s not far.” She burst out onto open grass and saw the gorse wall of the camp ahead. Circling around it, she led Micah to the entrance.

Above them, stars were beginning to glitter as the sky darkened. Is Half Moon up there watching? Moth Flight’s paws prickled. She was determined to prove that the spirit-cats had put their faith in the right cat.

She ducked through the camp entrance, Micah on her tail.

Storm Pelt was sitting among the tussocks, Dew Nose at his side. They leaped to their paws as they saw Moth Flight.

“You’re back!” Joy sparked in Storm Pelt’s eyes. Then he saw Micah and raised his hackles. “Who’s he ?”

“He’s a friend.” Moth Flight pulled up in front of the mottled gray tom. “He saved me from a dog two days ago.”

Micah stiffened as Dew Nose sniffed him, suspicious, but kept his hackles smooth.

“What’s he doing here?” she demanded.

“I’ll tell you later.” Moth Flight scanned the camp, her heart thumping. Where’s Wind Runner? Unease fluttered in her belly.

Slate was playing with her kits at one edge of the camp while Rocky lay nearby, watching lazily. No one else was in camp.

“Moth Flight! You’re back!” Silver Stripe spotted her and came bouncing across the grass. Black Ear chased after his sister excitedly.

Slate looked up from White Tail, who was rolling on his back trying to swipe her mother’s tail. “You’re safe!” she called happily. “Wind Runner will be relieved.”

“Where is Wind Runner?” Moth Flight’s heart quickened.

Rocky heaved himself slowly to his paws. “She’s left with the others.”

Dew Nose was still watching Micah warily. “They’ve gone to the full-moon Gathering.”

“Already?” Moth Flight stared at him, her heart dropping like a stone. “But I wanted to speak to her.”

Micah padded to her side, ignoring Dew Nose’s curiosity.

“When did she leave?”

“Not long ago,” Storm Pelt told him.

Dew Nose stalked around her brother and glared at Micah.

“We stayed behind to guard the kits.”

Silver Stripe raced around Micah and Moth Flight. “You smell funny!” she squeaked.

“Where have you been?” Black Ear stared at her with wide eyes. “You’re all dusty!”

Micah looked at the kit, his whiskers twitching with amusement. “We’ve been to Highstones.”

“Highstones!” Slate was crossing the grass toward them, White Tail at her heels. “That’s a long way from here.”

“I know.” Moth Flight suddenly realized how tired her paws were. But she couldn’t stop now. “We have to catch up with Wind Runner. I’ve got something important to tell her.”

Slate narrowed her eyes. “Is everything okay?”

Moth Flight met her gaze. “Everything’s fine,” she promised.

“Why the rush?” Rocky was shambling toward them too.

But there wasn’t time to talk.

“You’ll hear about it later!” Moth Flight turned and headed for the entrance. “I have to catch up with Wind Runner.”

“You’re not taking him to a Gathering, are you?” Dew Nose called after Moth Flight. Micah was following her. “Gatherings are for Clan cats!”

“He’ll be a Clan cat soon!” she called over her shoulder.

She burst out of camp and headed downslope. Opening her mouth, she tasted the air. WindClan scent bathed her tongue, so fresh she struggled to make out which way they’d gone. Micah was already sniffing the ground. He whipped his tail eagerly as he reached a spot of trampled grass a few tail-lengths ahead.

“They went this way.”

Moth Flight rushed to his side and checked the scents. He was right. Fresh paw-scents coated the tussocks here, and headed toward a wide clump of heather. She followed the trail, nose low, pushing through the bushes onto the grassy slope beyond. It led past the outcrop of rocks she used to hunt on with Dust Muzzle. Wind Runner must be leading her Clan along the old sheep track that went through deep heather and ended at the top of Fourtrees. Checking to see that Micah was still following, Moth Flight broke into a run.

He caught up and fell in step beside her. “Do you think we’ll catch her in time?”

“I think so,” Moth Flight puffed. “The scents are very fresh.”

They slid into single file as heather rose around them and the sheep track meandered among the bushes, finally opening at the top of the hollow.

Moth Flight halted and scanned the ridge. Her belly tightened. She couldn’t see Wind Runner or the WindClan cats.

But she could smell their scents rising from the hollow. “We’re too late,” she whispered. “They’re down there.”