Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

Moth Flight leaned against her mother, relief swamping her.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered.

“Just keep pacing until you need to lie down.” Wind Runner drew away and looked into Moth Flight’s eyes. “You’re not the first cat to have kits. You will be fine.”

“But it hurts!” Moth Flight was startled by the intensity of the pain.

Wind Runner’s eyes glistened with sympathy. “You won’t remember it afterward, I promise.”

“That doesn’t help me now!” Moth Flight snapped back.

Another spasm was coming. She closed her eyes as it swept over her. When it had passed, she gazed blearily at her mother.

“How long will it take?”

“Not long,” Wind Runner soothed. “Not long at all.”

Paw steps sounded at the den entrance and Slate hurried into the den. “How’s she doing?” she asked Wind Runner.

The Wind Clan leader shot her an anxious look. “The kits will be here before Pebble Heart,” she breathed.

Moth Flight stiffened as she heard her mother. “How do you know?”

Slate didn’t give Wind Runner time to answer. “Are the spasms that close together?” She turned to Moth Flight. “Lie down and let me feel your belly.”

Wincing as another spasm pulsed through her, Moth Flight lay down. She growled with pain, hardly feeling Slate’s paws on her belly.

Slate nodded briskly. “Your kits feel strong. I think they’re eager to come out and meet you.”

Pain scorched through Moth Flight. Stronger than before.

“Wind Runner!” She reached a paw toward her mother.

“It won’t be long now.” Wind Runner crouched beside her.

“I need a stick to bite on,” Moth Flight panted as she fought the urge to yowl with pain.

“I’ll get you one.” Slate ducked out of the den.

She returned a few moments later with a tough heather stem.

Moth Flight took it from her, relieved as she bit down hard with the next spasm. The wood crunched between her jaws and she moaned as her belly convulsed with such power that she thought she would die. Micah! She focused her thoughts on him, determined to stay strong. The image of his steady gaze shone in her thoughts. He seemed to be silently urging her on.

Groaning, she pushed with all her strength.

“Here’s the first kit!” Slate ducked behind her and lifted a small squirming bundle.

Moth Flight blinked at it, surprised, and spat out the stick.

“Is it okay?”

“It’s a he and he’s fine.” Slate laid the tom-kit beside Moth

Flight’s muzzle. His warm scent filled Moth Flight’s nose and she nuzzled him, her heart swelling as he squirmed against her cheek.

Her body convulsed again.

“Another one!” Slate sounded jubilant.

As a spasm seized her once more, the world seemed to blur around Moth Flight. She was aware only of pain and the muted voices of Wind Runner and Slate. In her mind, Micah’s green gaze glowed steady and strong. The heady scent of her new kits washed her muzzle and then, suddenly, the pain stopped.

“Four kits.” Wind Runner’s proud mew broke through the fog.

Moth Flight turned her head, blinking, and saw four squirming bundles beside her. Instinctively she pulled them close to her belly, reaching down to lap them dry. Two of the kits had yellow splotches on their soft white pelts. One was striped yellow all over, just like his father. “His fur!” she looked up at her mother. “It’s the same color as Micah’s!” The fourth was white, like Moth Flight. “I wonder what color their eyes will be.” The kits wriggled against her, their eyes still closed.

“You’ll have to wait a few days before you know.” Wind Runner’s mew was barely a whisper as she leaned down and lapped Moth Flight’s cheek. “Well done. I’m very proud of you.”

“Is she okay?” Pebble Heart’s anxious mew sounded at the den entrance. He nosed his way into the den, puffing to catch his breath. Heat radiated from his pelt.

Slate stared at him. “Did you run all the way?”

Pebble Heart was gazing at the kits. “I’m too late?”

“I’m afraid so,” Wind Runner told him apologetically. “But I’m glad you came. You can make sure Moth Flight and the kits are okay.”

“They look fine.” Pebble Heart’s eyes glowed.

Dust Muzzle stuck his head through the entrance. “He outran me!”

Moth Flight blinked fondly at the ShadowClan medicine cat.

“I did it!” Pride pulsed through her, stronger than any she’d felt before. “Aren’t they beautiful?” She hugged the kits closer, joy washing over her as she felt them warm against her belly.

Micah’s green gaze flashed once more in her mind. Thank you, Micah.

“They’re lovely,” Pebble Heart agreed. He leaned down and sniffed them. “They seem strong and healthy.”

Wind Runner tipped her head, her eyes glittering with worry.

“Will you stay tonight, just in case?”

“Of course,” Pebble Heart promised. “And I’ve spoken to Dappled Pelt and Cloud Spots. They’ve agreed to visit

WindClan regularly in case anyone is injured or sick while

Moth Flight’s recovering.”

Moth Flight lifted her head. “That’s kind, but there’s no need. I’ve shared everything I know with Reed Tail. He’ll be able to look after WindClan.”

Pebble Heart blinked. “You’ve been busy!”

“I just wanted to be prepared.” Moth Flight suddenly realized that, for the past moon, she’d been thinking about the future again. The grief that had dragged her into helpless despair after Micah’s death had finally eased as she planned a new life around her kits. And now they were here, each one perfect, and her heart felt as full of love as it had been when Micah was alive. She purred loudly, joy leaping in her chest as her kits purred with her. She suddenly remembered her conversation with Sun Shadow.

I will never feel like I’ve gained more than I’ve lost.

Maybe not. But you will come to value what you still have, and what you may have in the future.

She looked at Pebble Heart. “When you go home, tell Sun

Shadow he was right.”

Moth Flight dreamed.

Warm wind tugged her fur as she raced upslope and the coarse grass grew soft beneath her paws as she neared the moortop. She stopped as she reached the crest. Meadows rolled below her, stretching toward forest, and a river sparkled in the distance as it disappeared among the trees.

Where am I? This wasn’t the moor.

The scent of prey washed her muzzle. A rabbit was grazing calmly on the grass a few tail-lengths ahead. Moth Flight imagined carrying it home to her kits. They were almost old enough for their first taste of fresh-kill. She swallowed back a purr as she imagined Bubbling Stream’s eyes lighting up at the sight of it. Spider Paw would be first to beg for a taste. Blue Whisker would hang back shyly, but Honey Pelt would make sure she had a piece before he’d take a bite.

Her heart ached with love for her kits as she thought of them. They were perfect. Even Spider Paw’s extra toe, which he’d been named for, was adorable.

She dropped into a hunting crouch and began to stalk silently through the grass. The rabbit didn’t even twitch as she neared. This is going to be an easy catch.

Yellow fur flashed at the edge of her vision. Moth Flight jerked her muzzle around, her breath stopping in her throat as she saw Micah padding toward her. The rabbit, still blissfully unaware, hopped lazily away. Moth Flight let it go, her gaze fixed on Micah.