Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

“Clear Sky’s started one before,” Wind Runner muttered.

Micah’s ears twitched. “I think Clear Sky is more interested in being a good father at the moment than fighting battles.”

Before Wind Runner could reply, he caught Moth Flight’s eye.

“I’d better go.”

“Yes.” Wind Runner stared at him. “You’d better.”

Moth Flight sniffed indignantly. “I’ll walk you to the border.”

Wind Runner shot her a look. “Don’t cross it.”

“I won’t!” Moth Flight whisked her tail as she headed for the entrance. Then she paused. “I’d better check on Rocky before I go. I want to see if the catmint’s working.”

Wind Runner stalked away, growling. “Don’t be long. I want

Micah back in his own territory by sunset.”

Micah glanced at Moth Flight, his eyes glittering with amusement. “She’s even sterner than I imagined.”

“I warned you.” Moth Flight headed for her den, stifling a purr.

Inside, Rocky stretched in his nest, spreading his belly happily. A loud purr throbbed in his chest. He wasn’t coughing.

Moth Flight blinked at him. “It sounds like the catmint worked.”

“I feel great!” Rocky lifted his head and stared blearily at Moth Flight.

Micah padded past her and smelled the old tom’s breath.

“How much did you give him?” he asked Moth Flight.

“Two stems.” Moth Flight hurried to the nest anxiously.

“Was that too much?”

Before Micah could answer, Rocky reached out a paw and gave her a playful shove on the muzzle. “It was just the right amount.” His tail flicked over his belly. As it flashed past his nose, he grabbed it between his forepaws. “Got you!” Delight shone in his eyes. “Look! I caught my tail!”

Moth Flight stiffened. She’d never seen him act like a kit before. “Have I poisoned him?”

“He’ll be fine,” Micah reassured her. “He might just be a little playful for a while. But his cough should improve.”

“It already has.” Rocky flopped onto his side, his head lolling over the edge of his nest.

“Come on.” Micah steered Moth Flight toward the entrance.

“Let him sleep it off.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Rocky called after them.

“Stay in your nest,” Micah told him firmly. “We don’t want you wandering off and getting lost in the heather. You might feel better but you still need to rest.” He nosed Moth Flight from the den.

Outside, in the sunshine, Moth Flight blinked at him. “How much should I have given him?” she asked.

“Two or three leaves are enough.” Micah headed toward the camp entrance.

Moth Flight hurried to catch up. “Did Tiny Branch act like that when you gave him some?”

“I only gave him one leaf,” Micah weaved between the tussocks and headed out of camp.

Moth Flight’s pelt prickled hotly along her spine as she followed him. Rocky had been the first cat she’d ever treated.

“I’m such a featherbrain,” she mewed crossly.

Micah looked at her, surprised. “Why?”

“I should have known it was too much.”

“How?” Micah padded at her side. “You’d never seen it before. I’m impressed that you even found some.”

“Really?” Moth Flight blinked at him.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Micah told her. “We’re all learning.”

“Have you made any mistakes?” Moth Flight asked.

“Not yet.” Micah gazed across the heather. “But there’s so much I don’t know yet. Clear Sky seems to think I should have the answer to everything. Most of the time, I’m just guessing.”

The breeze tugged Moth Flight’s pelt, chilly now as the sun began to set. But she hardly noticed. She was relieved to hear that Micah was feeling overwhelmed by his duties too. “I thought it was just me,” she meowed softly.

Micah’s flank brushed hers. “It’s not just you,” he assured her. “I bet Dappled Pelt, Cloud Spots, and Pebble Heart are struggling too.”

“Not Pebble Heart,” Moth Flight sighed. “Everyone says he’s a natural healer.” She glanced at her paws. “I wish I was.”

“How do you know you’re not?” Micah challenged. “Rocky seemed very happy just now.”

Moth Flight purred, picturing the old tom. “A bit too happy.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘too happy.’” Micah broke into a run, swerved around a patch of heather and bounded down the slope as it steepened.

Moth Flight chased after him, purring as she ran. She caught up as they neared the border. “Wait!” She didn’t want him to go home yet.

He skidded to a halt as he neared the brambles spilling from among the trees. “What?”

“You don’t have to get back to camp already, do you?” Moth

Flight gazed into his amber eyes.

Micah glanced at the border. “I guess not.” He didn’t sound sure.

Moth Flight tipped her head. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Micah swished his tail breezily. “Of course not. I just promised Acorn Fur I’d help her mix some herbs.”

“Acorn Fur?” Moth Flight frowned. “But you’re SkyClan’s medicine cat.”

“Clear Sky wants me to have a helper.” Micah avoided her gaze. “I think he wants her to keep an eye on me.”

“Clear Sky’s never been too trusting.” Moth Flight padded closer. “I’m sure he’ll get used to having you as a medicine cat soon.”

“Yeah.” Micah shrugged. “Besides, Acorn Fur’s nice. We get along fine. And she’s bright. I quite like having her around.”

Moth Flight pushed away the jealousy pricking in her belly.

“Acorn Fur’s okay,” she conceded.

“We found a way to treat scratches,” Micah told her. “If you chew dock leaves and horsetail stems into a paste, you can smear it deep into a wound.”

Moth Flight pricked her ears. “I’ll try that next time one of the kits grazes a paw.”

“It stings,” Micah warned. “They’ll make a fuss. But it will stop the wound from getting infected.”

The brambles shivered. “Micah!” Acorn Fur padded into the evening sunshine. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Micah dipped his head to the chestnut brown she-cat. “I was just on my way back to camp.”

“Clear Sky wants you there now.” Acorn Fur eyed Moth

Flight warily. “He says Tiny Branch needs more catmint.”

Micah frowned. “Tiny Branch is fine.”

“Just come!” Acorn Fur glared at him. “Clear Sky is in one of his moods.”

“Let me say good-bye to Moth Flight first.”

Moth Flight felt Micah’s soft breath on her muzzle as he leaned toward her.

“Hurry up!” Acorn Fur crossed the border and padded to Micah’s side.

Micah caught Moth Flight’s eye, his gaze apologetic. “I’ve got to go,” he whispered.

“See you at half-moon,” Moth Flight murmured back.

“Yeah.” Micah followed Acorn Fur into the trees.

Moth Flight watched the shadows swallow him, her pelt pricking uneasily. Acorn Fur was treating him more like a hostage than a Clanmate. Was Micah okay in SkyClan? She tore her gaze away, already longing to see him again, and headed back to camp.

Moth Flight glanced at the moon. It rose, a perfect half circle, among the stars. The days since full moon had passed quickly.

Moth Flight had been busier than she’d ever been before. Now she was on her way to Highstones.

She paused, her paws chafed from the stony farm tracks.

Micah halted beside her. “Tired?”

“A little,” she admitted. She’d normally be curled in her nest by now.