Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

Holly followed, her gaze cool. “A grieving cat should stay with her Clan,” she muttered.

Jagged Peak glanced at Moth Flight’s belly. “Are you carrying his kits?”

“Micah’s?” Moth Flight narrowed her eyes. “Yes. And I’m proud of it.”

“He was a SkyClan cat,” Jagged Peak grunted.

Moth Flight glared at him. “He was a farm cat too! Does that make it better or worse?”

“Jagged Peak!” Storm Pelt charged across the clearing. He stopped in front of his father and mother and blinked at them.

“You should be happy she’s come home.”

Holly sniffed. “Why did she bother? She’s been away from WindClan so long, she doesn’t even smell like a WindClan cat anymore.”

Dew Nose slid from the den and stopped beside her brother.

“Moth Flight was born WindClan and she’ll always be

WindClan.”

Storm Pelt lifted his chin. “She’s the one who found the Moonstone. Aren’t you proud she’s our Clanmate?”

“Will her kits be our Clanmates too?” Holly muttered. “Even though they carry SkyClan blood?”

“And farm-cat blood,” Jagged Peak added.

Storm Pelt faced his mother, pelt prickling. “ You weren’t born WindClan!” His gaze flashed toward his father. “And you were a mountain cat who left his tribe.”

Moth Flight shifted her paws uncomfortably. She didn’t want to cause an argument between kin.

Holly eyed her kits doubtfully. “How do we know she won’t leave again?”

“I won’t,” Moth Flight promised.

“Moth Flight!” Her mother’s mew rang across the clearing.

She turned to see the WindClan leader bounding toward her.

Wind Runner skidded to a halt and thrust her muzzle against

Moth Flight’s chin. “You’re home at last!” A sigh shuddered through her. She drew back, her gaze darkening. “Did you travel here by yourself? I hope you were careful near the SkyClan border. They’ve been raiding the moor for rabbits again. Of course, Clear Sky denies it but—” She stopped and stared at Moth Flight. “You’re expecting kits!”

Moth Flight sat down, letting her belly bulge. “They’re due in a moon.”

“Micah’s?” Wind Runner tipped her head.

“Of course.” Moth Flight purred. Did her mother think they could be anyone else’s?

“Let’s hope they take after you.” Wind Runner lowered her voice. “Micah was a little too sure of himself.”

Moth Flight met her mother’s gaze calmly. “And you’re not, I suppose.”

Wind Runner’s eyes widened with surprise. Then she purred. “My little kit has grown claws.”

Moth Flight glanced down at her belly. “I need to,” she mewed. “I’ve got my own kits to protect.”

Wind Runner swished her tail, pride warming her gaze.

“You must be tired after your journey. Let’s get you settled in your nest.”

Moth Flight got to her paws, suddenly realizing how weary she felt. She snatched a look at Jagged Peak and Holly, hoping that they’d be less prickly once they saw that she was here to stay. They avoided her gaze, their pelts ruffled.

Wind Runner nudged her toward her den. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Moth Flight purred. It felt good to be home and Wind Runner was pleased to see her. The warmth in her mother’s mew reassured her that, from now on, everything was going to be fine.

Moth Flight rolled a wad of borage leaves into a bundle and slotted them into a small gap in the gorse at the back of her den.

She relished the coolness here. Outside, early greenleaf sunshine was scorching the camp.

The scent of herbs washed over her and she thanked StarClan that she’d stopped feeling queasy. The kits were due any day and her belly was so swollen that she felt as clumsy as a toad. She sat back on her haunches and looked approvingly at the array of herbs poking out from between the branches.

“We’ve done well.” She blinked at Reed Tail.

The silver tabby tom sat down and tucked his tail over his herb-stained paws. “You’ve taught me so much.”

In the moon since she’d returned to the WindClan camp, Moth Flight had shared with him all she’d learned from the other medicine cats. When the kits came, she guessed that there would be times when she’d be too busy to tend to her Clan and she wanted him to be prepared to take her place. And so, she had spent nearly every day with him, scouring the moor for herbs, and teaching him their names as they gathered them for her store.

She glanced at her nest now, wondering when the kits would come. She had woven extra heather to make it larger, and lined it thickly with moss. She shifted as a twinge in her belly made her wince.

Reed Tail stiffened. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Moth Flight told him. “The kits are just fidgety today.”

As she spoke, fur brushed the gorse entrance.

Rocky padded into the den, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. “My chest is feeling a bit tight.” He looked at her hopefully. “Can you spare some catmint?”

Moth Flight heaved herself to her paws and crossed the den.

She pressed her ear against his flank and listened for bubbling inside his chest. He was breathing clearly. She looked at him sternly. “You’re as fit as a flea. I can’t waste catmint on healthy cats. I’d have to travel to Twolegplace to fetch more.”

“I could fetch some for you,” Rocky offered. “I know Twolegplace well. I used to live there, remember?”

“That’s a kind offer.” She wouldn’t put it past the old tom to travel to Twolegplace in search of catmint. “But let younger cats fetch the herbs. Your paws are too stiff to climb the wooden walls.”

Rocky’s eyes brightened. “Does catmint help stiff paws?”

Moth Flight’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “No, but I can give you some comfrey. Reed Tail and I picked some fresh leaves this morning.”

Rocky wrinkled his nose. “No, thanks. The stiffness doesn’t bother me that much and I—”

Moth Flight didn’t hear the rest of his words. Pain pulsed through her as a spasm gripped her belly. She gasped, swaying.

“Are the kits coming?” Reed Tail raced to her side.

“I think so.” She curled her claws into the ground, bracing herself against the pain. “Send someone to fetch Pebble Heart,” she puffed. “He knows what to do.”

Reed Tail hared from the den and left Rocky staring at her nervously.

“Do you want to lie down in your nest?” he asked hesitantly.

“No!” Moth Flight glared at him as another spasm crushed her belly. She began to pace, a growl rolling deep in her throat.

Focus on your breathing. She remembered the advice she’d given Juniper Branch and tried to concentrate on each breath.

What if she wasn’t ready? What if the kits got stuck? What if they died like Emberkit? Her thoughts began to whirl. She stopped and stared at Rocky, panic sparking through her pelt.

Rocky blinked at her. “I’ll get Wind Runner.” He ducked out of the den.

Moth Flight moaned, shocked by the pain gripping her belly.

She began pacing again, not sure what to do with herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting still. Moving distracted her.

But she felt weak with the pain. She lay down as another spasm shuddered through her body. Then she scrambled to her paws, frightened at feeling so helpless.

“Moth Flight!” Wind Runner’s mew sounded at the den entrance. Her mother hurried into the den and pressed her muzzle to Moth Flight’s cheek. “Don’t be scared,” she murmured. “Everything’s going to be okay. Dust Muzzle’s on his way to fetch Pebble Heart. And Slate will be here in a moment. We’re going to look after you until Pebble Heart arrives.”