Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

Ignoring the hushed murmurs behind her, she slid out of camp, relieved to feel the cool wind in her fur.

Moth Flight headed for the RiverClan border. As she climbed down the steep path that led to the river, she saw

Micah, seated on a stepping-stone. He was silhouetted, still and strong, against the flashing water. He looked up as she neared and she narrowed her eyes against the glare of the sparkling ripples.

Behind him, the river split, cutting through the reed beds to create an island in the middle. She knew from listening to her Clanmates talk that RiverClan made their camp there and she wondered what it would feel like to be entirely surrounded by water.

“It’s so peaceful here!” Micah’s purr rumbled over the chattering stream.

Moth Flight jumped gingerly onto the first stepping-stone, watching the water as it swirled around her. She flinched as a ripple broke over the edge of the stone and splashed her forepaw.

Micah purred louder. “You might have to get used to getting your paws wet in RiverClan.”

“I hope not.” She shook the water off.

It felt good to be away from camp. The newleaf sun warmed her pelt. The river was sheltered from the wind by the forest on one side and the cliffs on the other. Pungent scents filled her nose and the birds chattered over the babbling of the river. She blinked happily at Micah. Alone here, with him, she didn’t need to impress Wind Runner, or know how to treat Black Ear’s bellyache or Storm Pelt’s itchy ears.

She crossed the stepping-stones until she reached Micah, then lifted her face to the sun and half closed her eyes. The wind whisked the reed beds on the far shore, stirring the rushes until they rippled like water.

Downstream, a black she-cat padded onto the shore. An orange she-cat passed her, wading into the shallows until the water streamed through her belly fur. She dipped her head, then plunged beneath the surface.

Moth Flight froze. “She sank!”

Micah leaned forward, ears pricked. “Wait.” He watched the water until suddenly, with a splash, the RiverClan she-cat broke the surface a few tail-lengths away, a fish clamped between her jaws. She swam back to shore, then hauled herself out and disappeared among the reeds. Her Clanmate gave a mrrow of approval, then followed.

Moth Flight shivered. “I hope Dappled Pelt doesn’t try to teach us to do that !”

Micah purred. “If she does, you can threaten to teach her how to hunt in your tunnels.”

“I hate tunnel-hunting,” Moth Flight confessed. “It’s Dust

Muzzle’s specialty, not mine.”

“You’re a medicine cat,” Micah reminded her. “You have your own special skills.”

“I wish .”

“That’s why we came here.” Micah jumped onto the next stone and crossed to the far shore. He glanced back at Moth Flight. “We’ll know plenty by the time we leave. But we’d better hurry up. Those cats probably told Dappled Pelt we’re on our way.”

Ruefully, Moth Flight followed. She wished she could spend all afternoon watching the river with Micah. But he was right.

Dappled Pelt would be expecting them. She landed on the sandy shore and followed Micah along a trail that wove among the reeds. The earth was muddy and squelched between her claws.

As the trail widened, she caught up with Micah. “What did Clear Sky say when you told him you were visiting RiverClan?”

“He wasn’t happy.” Micah kept his gaze fixed ahead.

“Did he try and stop you?” Moth Flight scanned Micah’s pelt for scratches.

“He wanted to know why,” Micah told her. “It took a while to convince him that it was for the good of SkyClan but, in the end, he agreed.”

“Wind Runner thought you’d never convince him.” Moth

Flight felt a glimmer of satisfaction that Micah had proved her mother wrong.

“I think Clear Sky likes cats who stand up to him,” Micah told her. “And it helped that Star Flower was there. Since I helped Tiny Branch, she wants me to learn as much as I can—in case Dew Petal or Flower Foot gets sick.”

“How’s Tiny Branch’s cough?”

“It seems to get better one day and worse the next,” Micah murmured thoughtfully. “I wonder if there’s something in the forest that aggravates it.”

“Silver Stripe always sneezes when she’s been playing near heather flowers,” Moth Flight commented. “Maybe you could follow Tiny Branch for a day and see where he plays.”

“I wish I had time for that,” Micah meowed. “Clear Sky keeps me busy treating flea bites and gathering herbs.”

“But you have Acorn Fur to help you.” Moth Flight ignored the jealousy pricking beneath her fur. “Couldn’t she take your duties for a day?”

“Clear Sky insists she never leave my side when we’re on SkyClan territory.”

Moth Flight blinked. “Never?”

Before Micah could answer, the reeds ahead shivered and a black she-cat slid out and blocked the path—the same one they’d seen on the shore downstream. She eyed Micah and Moth Flight suspiciously. “What are you two doing here?”

“Hi!” Micah greeted her cheerfully. “Didn’t Dappled Pelt warn you? She invited us to come and learn what she knows about healing.”

“Night!” A mew sounded farther along the trail. Dawn Mist appeared from among the rushes. Her orange-and-white pelt was wet, slicked against her slender frame. “Dappled Pelt said that if it’s Micah and Moth Flight, you’re to escort them to her den.”

Night narrowed her eyes. “I still think it’s a bad idea to let other Clan cats into our camp.”

“River Ripple says it’s okay,” Dawn Mist argued. “And they’re only medicine cats. What’s the worst they can do? Cure you?”

Night snorted and turned her tail on them. “Follow me,” she huffed.

Moth Flight padded beside Micah, following the she-cat along the winding path.

Dawn Mist fell in beside her Clanmate and glanced over her shoulder. “I wish I could visit the other Clans,” she mewed. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to live on the moor or in the forest.”

Moth Flight’s paws slithered on the muddy earth. “It’s dry ,” she muttered.

As Dawn Mist purred with amusement, the reeds opened up and Moth Flight saw a clearing ahead. Fish scent washed her muzzle as two kits bounded across the sandy soil and bundled into Dawn Mist.

“Dawn Mist!” The gray-and-white she-kit bounced around the orange queen. “Pine Needle ate more of the trout than me!

It’s not fair.”

The black tom-kit dug his paws into the earth. “I did not !

She’s just being greedy!”

“Poor Drizzle.” Dawn Mist licked the gray she-kit’s head.

“I’ll catch another fish soon,” she promised.

“Can we have one each ?” Pine Needle asked.

Drizzle blinked eagerly. “I want the biggest one!”

“You two are greedier than foxes,” Dawn Mist purred. She nosed the kits away. “Go and play. I’m helping Night show our guests to Dappled Pelt’s den.”

Drizzle’s eyes opened wide as she spotted Moth Flight and Micah. “What are they doing here?”

“Invasion!” Pine Needle fluffed out his fur. “Should I warn

River Ripple?”

A deep purr rumbled at the side of the clearing. “There’s no need to warn me. I was expecting them.”

Moth Flight jerked her nose around and saw the RiverClan leader sitting in the shade of the reed wall.

He stood and crossed the camp, dipping his head as he neared. “I’m glad you’re here. Dappled Pelt’s in her den.” He pointed his muzzle to the foot of a long-dead tree. Its roots snaked into the earth, forming a cave beneath the stump, where countless moons of wind and water had hollowed out the earth.