Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

Heat washed Moth Flight’s pelt. Did Spotted Fur have to be rude? Thunder and his Clanmates had been so kind.

Cloud Spots nosed his way from the ferns, a roll of herbs dangling from his mouth. He crossed the clearing and dropped them at Moth Flight’s paws. “Take these,” he told her. “They’re some of the herbs we gathered. They might be some help.”

Moth Flight blinked at him gratefully, then dipped her head to Thunder. “Thank you for letting us stay.”

Thunder’s eyes glowed with warmth. “Send my regards to Wind Runner and Gorse Fur.”

“I will.” She snatched up the herb bundle and headed for the gorse barrier. Spotted Fur followed.

“Wait for me!” Micah hurried after them.

Spotted Fur glanced at the yellow tom. “We don’t need you.”

I do ! Moth Flight grunted crossly, the herb bundle muffling her mew.

“Two medicine cats are better than one,” Micah insisted.

Spotted Fur shot Moth Flight a glance. He must have seen the anger in her gaze. “Okay,” he snapped, ducking through the gorse barrier. “I guess you can come too.”

“Great! See you soon, Cloud Spots!” Micah called over his shoulder. “Take care of Pink Eyes!”

Moth Flight followed Spotted Fur out of camp and stopped at the bottom of the cliff. Spotted Fur was already scanning the rock face. “Follow me.” He hopped onto the lowest ledge and began to lead a winding route up the cliff.

By the time they reached the WindClan camp, Moth Flight was out of breath. Her tongue burned with herb juices that had seeped out as she gripped the bundle between her jaws. They’d hared over the last stretch of grass and burst into the hollow as the sun lifted above the distant forest. Sunshine flooded the clearing.

Moth Flight raced toward her den. She could hear Micah’s paws thrumming behind her.

Gorse Fur watched them pass, surprise glittering in his eyes.

Dust Muzzle and Willow Tail leaped to their paws. Jagged Peak stared from his den, Holly pacing in the shadows behind. Moth

Flight felt her pelt prickle as their gaze followed Micah. Why did they look so uneasy?

“Wait!” Wind Runner’s yowl sounded across the camp.

Moth Flight skidded to a halt.

Her mother was stalking across the tussocks, staring at Micah. “What’s he doing here?”

Moth Flight dropped the herbs. “He’s come to help!”

“I thought I told you I didn’t want him in the camp!” Wind Runner halted.

Moth Flight faced her. “Rocky’s sick and Micah’s a medicine cat.”

Wind Runner didn’t blink. “Can’t you heal him by yourself?”

“I don’t know.” Moth Flight held her ground. She fought the urge to drop her gaze as Wind Runner glared at her. Rocky needed help.

Wind Runner’s tail twitched ominously “There was an incident while you were away.”

Moth Flight tensed. “What happened?”

“A moor rabbit was found in SkyClan’s territory,” Wind Runner told her.

Micah pricked his ears.

Wind Runner met his gaze accusingly. “Clearly, your Clan is stealing prey from our land.”

Micah shrugged. “How do you know it didn’t just stray across the border by itself?”

Wind Runner lashed her tail. “Willow Tail said she’d seen

SkyClan cats on the moor earlier.”

Micah flashed a look at the pale tabby she-cat, who watched through narrowed eyes from beside Dust Muzzle. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It proves SkyClan can’t be trusted,” Wind Runner snarled.

Moth Flight stepped between her mother and Micah. “I trust

Micah!” she growled. “I need his help.”

Wind Runner’s ears twitched. “One day, you’re going to have to stand on your own four paws.”

“One day I will. But not today.” Moth Flight grabbed the herb bundle and marched to her den, Micah at her heels.

Inside, Rocky was shivering in his nest. His matted fur clung to his frame. He looked old and weak. Moth Flight’s heart quickened.

Reed Tail and Swift Minnow crouched beside him.

“How long has he been like this?” Moth Flight asked Reed Tail.

“He took a turn for the worse last night.”

The old tom writhed in the heather, his eyes rolling. “When will leafbare end?” he gasped. “It’s so cold!”

How did he get so sick? Is he dying? Thoughts racing, Moth Flight dropped the herbs and thrust her muzzle close to his.

Warmth pulsed from his nose. Panic flashed through her. What do I do first? Words came. “We need to cool him down.”

Dappled Pelt had warned her that fevers could be deadly. She turned to Swift Minnow. “Go and find as much moss as you can carry and soak it in a puddle, then bring it back.”

“I’m so cold!” Rocky’s teeth chattered as Swift Minnow raced from the den.

“What can I do?” Reed Tail asked.

“Go with her.”

“Don’t you need me here?” Reed Tail frowned anxiously.

“I’ve got Micah,” Moth Flight told him. “We’ve learned a lot since we left.”

Reed Tail nodded and headed out of the den.

Moth Flight hooked a claw through the grass stem that gripped her bundle and snapped it open. The leaves unrolled and herb scents bathed her nose. She stared at them, panic pricking her paws. Which one is which? What are they for? Her thoughts whirled as she desperately tried to recall Cloud Spots’s training.

“Come on,” she hissed to herself under her breath.

“Remember!”

Micah’s pelt brushed hers. “Feverfew might help,” he murmured.

Feverfew! Of course! But which one is it? She scanned the leaves, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Then she recognized the delicate scalloped leaves that Cloud Spots had helped her pick yesterday.

“Rocky!” She spoke to the tom sternly, hoping he’d understand. “I need you to swallow some leaves, okay?”

He stared at her through clouded eyes, shivering.

“Do you think you can do that?” If Rocky chewed them and spat them out, they’d be wasted. She’d have to return to the forest to fetch more, and there wasn’t time.

Rocky stared at her blankly.

Micah leaned forward and rested his muzzle on Rocky’s head. “It’s just like eating prey,” he murmured softly.

Rocky grew still. “Like eating prey,” he echoed.

Moth Flight lifted the feverfew to Rocky’s lips with a hooked claw. “Just swallow these and you’ll feel a bit better.”

Micah lapped the old tom’s head. “Just a few leaves,” he soothed.

Obediently Rocky nibbled the herb from Moth Flight’s claws.

“Come on,” Micah urged gently. “They’ll go down easy.”

Relief washed Moth Flight’s pelt as Rocky lapped the leaves down. She stared gratefully at Micah. “Thank you.”

“Sick cats are like kits,” he told her. “A little gentleness goes a long way.”

Moth Flight gazed at Rocky as he slumped deeper into his nest. “What’s wrong with him? He’s not coughing anymore.”

“Listen to his chest,” Micah suggested. “Even when Tiny

Branch stopped coughing, I could hear him wheezing inside.”

Moth Flight leaned into the nest, relieved to feel less warmth seeping from Rocky’s pelt. At least the feverfew was working.

She pressed her ear to his rib cage and listened. It sounded as though water was bubbling up inside. She sat up, alarmed. “He’s drowning, like Drizzle!”

Micah’s eyes widened. “He can’t be. He hasn’t swallowed any water.”

“There’s water in his chest!” Moth Flight gasped. “I can hear it.”

Micah leaned down and listened, his eyes dark with worry as he straightened. “There must be infection inside.”

Moth Flight’s belly felt hollow. “What can we do?” She stared desperately at Micah. Then she remembered what Cloud