Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

Moth Flight glanced at the battered bird, its wings splayed awkwardly. Feathers speckled the ground around it. “It was a good thing no one was underneath.”

Thistle sniffed. “Any cat who can’t hear a pigeon bouncing down a cliff needs his ears checked.”

Micah’s eyes flashed with amusement. “It looks like it hit every ledge on the way down.”

Pink Eyes padded to the pigeon and sniffed it. “At least it’ll be tender.”

Cloud Spots nodded toward the ferns. “Do you want to see my den before I go and gather chervil?”

Moth Flight nodded eagerly and followed as Cloud Spots headed across the clearing and pushed through a tunnel of ferns.

Moth Flight glanced at Micah as he stopped beside her.

“You go first.”

The yellow tom dipped his head and nosed his way after Cloud Spots. Moth Flight followed, padding through the fern tunnel, her belly fluttering with excitement. She could already smell Cloud Spot’s herbs. A small clearing opened ahead, edged by a cliff that stretched toward the top of the ravine. Water trickled down the rock, pooling at one edge, and a crack opened in the stone. Moth Flight padded toward it and sniffed, her nose twitching as the pungent herb scents grew stronger. “Do you keep your stores in there?” She peered into the darkness.

Cloud Spots brushed past her and reached into the crack. He pulled out a wad of leaves, neatly bundled and tied with grass.

He opened it and spread the herbs over the den floor.

Moth Flight glanced at them, hoping to recognize one. But they were forest herbs, lush and dark and musty-smelling.

“This is comfrey.” Cloud Spots pulled the largest leaf closer.

“I keep a few leaves in my store in case Pink Eyes is wakened in the night by aches. But the forest is full of it and I like to gather it fresh each day and line his nest with it.”

“What does it do?” Micah sniffed the furry leaf.

“It eases the pains in his joints,” Cloud Spots told him.

“Can you eat it?” Moth Flight asked.

“Yes, but wrapping sore limbs in the leaves works just as well,” Cloud Spots told her. “I’ve heard it even helps broken limbs to heal, though I’ve not yet had to try it.”

The ferns rustled and Leaf padded into the den. “Milkweed’s thirsty,” he meowed.

Cloud Spots jerked his muzzle around. “I’m sorry! I meant to give her fresh moss.”

Moth Flight frowned, puzzled. How could moss help thirst?

“I’ll take it to her.” Leaf padded toward the water pooling beside the rock. He hooked a lump of moss from a heap piled at one edge and dipped it in the water. He let it soak for a few moments, then grabbed it between his jaws and carried it, dripping, toward the fern tunnel.

As he disappeared, Moth Flight blinked. “She laps water from the moss!” Had she seen Reed Tail soaking moss in puddles on the moor? She must ask him when she got back. It was a great idea. Sick cats could stay in their nests and rest instead of roaming the moor in search of a drink.

Cloud Spots gathered up his herbs. “I’d better gather chervil for Violet Dawn. Come with me. I’ll show you some other herbs you might find useful.”

“Great!” Micah lifted his tail.

Happiness fizzed beneath Moth Flight’s fur. She was going to return to WindClan knowing so much! Cheerfully she followed Micah and Cloud Spots out of the den.

An owl hooted at the top of the ravine. Moth Flight huddled closer to Micah, searching for a glimpse of the moon through the canopy of trees. Thunder had offered them a nest beside the fallen tree. She could hear Pink Eyes snoring a tail-length away and smell the comfrey lining his nest.

The forest was black with shadow. She was used to the moor, washed silver by moonlight. Countless scents, made richer by a heavy dew, filled her nose. Trying to ignore the pressing darkness, she recalled the plants Cloud Spots had shown them, murmuring their names under her breath.

“Coltsfoot, goldenrod, feverfew, catchweed—”

“Can’t you sleep?” Micah whispered in the darkness.

“I don’t want to forget anything,” Moth Flight told him.

Micah nuzzled her ear. “He’ll show us again tomorrow,” he promised. “You’ll remember, don’t worry.”

I hope so.

“Go to sleep,” Micah murmured. “It’s been a busy day, and tomorrow might be even busier.”

Moth Flight closed her eyes and nestled against his thick fur.

It was cozy here. Snail Shell and Apple Blossom had brought back so much moss that there was enough to line their own nest.

Micah’s warm scent seeped into her thoughts as she slipped into sleep. She purred contentedly. She could easily get used to sleeping beside him every night.

Moth Flight slept. As Micah’s soft breath washed her muzzle, she dreamed.

Four kits squirmed between them in a sunny nest. Happily, she nuzzled the strong tom-kit clambering over her flank.

“Look, Micah! He’s as handsome as you!” She turned to meet Micah’s loving gaze, but he’d gone. Alarm spiked through her pelt. “Micah? Where are you?” She was suddenly alone in the nest, cold air flooding around her. “Kits?” Panic surged through her. She leaped to her paws and stared into the shadows closing fast around the nest. Straining to see, she searched for Micah and her kits. “Where did you go?”

“Moth Flight!”

A voice called her name.

“Micah! Is that you?” She struggled awake.

“Moth Flight!”

Bleary with sleep, she struggled free of her dream. She could feel Micah, warm against her. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She was in the ThunderClan camp. Soft dawn light crept into the shelter of the fallen tree where they’d made their nest.

“Moth Flight!” Someone was calling her from the clearing.

“I’m coming!” She scrambled onto her paws and hurried out.

Spotted Fur stood in the middle, gazing desperately around.

His ears pricked as he saw her. “ There you are!”

“What’s happened?” Fear stabbed her belly. What had sent him here at dawn?

“You said you’d be with RiverClan!” There was reproach in his mew. “River Ripple told me you were here .” His gaze flicked past her as fur brushed beneath the jutting branch of the fallen tree. “Micah.” Spotted Fur’s hackles lifted as the yellow tom slid out behind Moth Flight.

Moth Flight flicked her tail impatiently. “What’s happened?”

The WindClan tom looked away from Micah. “Rocky’s sick!”

Moth Flight frowned. “Is he coughing again?”

“No,” Spotted Fur told her. “He’s burning hot and he’s talking nonsense!”

“Has he been eating catmint?”

“Reed Tail says he’s only had tansy,” Spotted Fur told her.

Thunder slid from the lichen draping the entrance to his den.

“What’s going on?” He stared at Spotted Fur.

“We need Moth Flight,” Spotted Fur told him.

Around the camp, cats were beginning to stir. Apple

Blossom peeked out of the bramble den. Lightning Tail ducked from under a spreading yew, Leaf at his tail.

Lightning Tail narrowed his eyes as he saw Spotted Fur.

“How did you find your way into the camp?”

“How do you think?” Spotted Fur snorted. “I followed my nose, of course. Do you think ThunderClan paw prints don’t smell?”

Thunder stepped forward, his ears twitching crossly. “You’re disturbing my Clan.”

“I’m just here to fetch Moth Flight.” Spotted Fur glared at the ThunderClan leader. “One of our Clanmates is sick. We need her.”