Эрин Хантер - Moth Flight’s Vision

Moth Flight guessed that last night’s Gathering had left the she-cat sleepy. Her thick, gray fur looked matted, as though she hadn’t even washed. Moth Flight felt a flash of guilt. Perhaps she should let Slate rest. But Rocky had come to her den, just as Spotted Fur and Reed Tail were leaving for the dawn patrol.

He’d been awake all night with aching joints. She had to help him.

She glanced at Honey Pelt, her heart pricking as she remembered Tiny Branch. She wanted to gather her kits to her belly—as she had when they were newly born—and keep them safely wrapped against her. But they were growing. They wanted to run and explore.

Rocky needs me more right now .

Fighting to save Tiny Branch’s life had reminded her how important her duties were to her Clan. Leaders talked of border patrols and battles; medicine cats were the ones who had to heal the wounds afterward. Unease itched beneath her pelt; could she have saved Tiny Branch? What if Clear Sky had let Acorn Fur call her sooner? What if Wind Runner hadn’t delayed her at Fourtrees? What if I knew more?

There was so much to be learned. She was determined to devote her life to her skill. It would help every cat.

“Moth Flight?”

She half heard Spider Paw’s mew. She looked up as he repeated her name.

“ Moth Flight! ” He was plucking at the grass outside their den. “Why can’t we go onto the moor?”

Moth Flight blinked at him, still half lost in her thoughts.

“What, dear?”

“Why can’t we go out onto the moor?” Spider Paw repeated crossly.

“There are buzzards out there that might carry you off,” Moth Flight reminded him. “And foxes and Twoleg dogs. It’s not safe until you’re big enough to run or fight.”

Honey Pelt dropped into an attack pounce, wriggled his hindquarters, and leaped onto his brother. “We can fight!” he squeaked as Spider Paw struggled beneath him. They rolled, wrestling, across the grass.

“Be careful!” Moth Flight flinched as she saw Spider Paw’s unsheathed claws. “When you’re play fighting, remember to pull in your claws!”

Slate was padding across the clearing, her shoulders drooping.

She looks so tired. Moth Flight frowned. I hope she doesn’t fall asleep while I’m gone.

She glanced around the camp, hoping to find another cat willing to watch her kits while she tended to Rocky. But the clearing was deserted. Wind Runner had assigned patrols for the day. Gorse Fur had taken Storm Pelt, Dew Nose, and Swift Minnow to flush out rabbits from their burrows on the moortop.

Dust Muzzle and Fern Leaf had led a patrol toward the gorge to find lapwings, while Jagged Peak and Holly had gone to gather heather for new nests. Only StarClan knew where Willow Tail was. The pale tabby hardly seemed to be in camp at all these days.

Spotted Fur and Reed Tail were sharing prey at the far end of the camp. Moth Flight blinked at them hopefully, but they were deep in conversation, lying in the long grass, relaxing after their dawn patrol.

Wind Runner lay, stretched on the rocks, beside the entrance. Moth Flight narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was asking her mother for help. They hadn’t spoken since the Gathering the night before. Slate would have to do.

Moth Flight watched the gray she-cat settle awkwardly beside the sandy hollow. “Call me if you need me,” Moth Flight told her, hoping she wouldn’t. She ducked into her den and pulled a wad of comfrey from her herb store. She’d gathered it yesterday and it was nicely wilted. It would be easy to wrap around Rocky’s stiff joints. She’d gather more later and line Rocky’s nest.

She was about to grab the bundle between her jaws when she hesitated. Glancing back at her stores, she grabbed a few extra leaves and rolled them up with the comfrey. Then she padded into the sunshine and crossed the tussocks to Rocky’s den.

She was pleased that her Clanmates had woven a shelter for the old tom. Holly was an expert at threading gorse and brambles into roofs and walls. Moth Flight had been dimly aware of the building work while she’d nursed her kits. She’d heard Holly’s mew issuing instructions and ordering her Clanmates to find more stems and sprigs for the den. She’d even made sure any gaps had been filled with moss and leaves, so that, as Moth Flight padded inside, shadow swept her sun-warmed pelt.

Rocky blinked at her through the gloom. “Moth Flight?” His mew was tight. He must be in a lot of pain.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so long,” Moth Flight dropped the comfrey guiltily beside his nest. “I had to find someone to watch my kits.”

Rocky grunted. “I wish I could watch them for you.”

“You can, once these herbs start to make you feel better.”

She unrolled the bundle and hooked out the extra leaves she’d tucked among them. “Eat these.” She laid the leaves on the side of his nest.

Rocky’s eyes gleamed. “Catmint.”

“I thought it’d help.”

Rocky purred, lapping them up.

As he closed his eyes contently, Moth Flight leaned into his nest and began wrapping his hind legs with the comfrey. “Once the sap seeps through your fur, the pain will start to ease,” she promised. “We need to make sure that your nest is lined with comfrey in the future. Now that White Tail, Silver Stripe, and Black Ear are old enough to go onto the moor, I’m sure they’ll be happy to gather fresh leaves for you.” Soon they’ll be old enough to become apprentices, Moth Flight thought, wondering which of the older cats would be chosen to teach the adolescents the finer points of hunting and caring for the Clan. It seemed like just yesterday she was helping fish Silver Stripe out of the tunnel. It’s amazing how fast the kits grow.

“Mmmmm.” Rocky was still purring.

Pleasure warmed Moth Flight’s pelt. Last night, as she’d fought to save Tiny Branch, she’d felt powerless. Now satisfaction moved deep in her belly as she eased her Clanmate’s pain.

“Moth Flight!” A pained shriek sounded outside.

She dropped the comfrey and darted from the den. Beside the tall rock, at the head of the sandy hollow, Slate crouched over Blue Whisker.

The kit was lying motionless on the ground.

Spider Paw and Honey Pelt pressed around Slate while

Bubbling Stream hung back, her eyes wide with shock.

“What happened?” Moth Flight raced to Blue Whisker’s side. The kit was unconscious.

Slate blinked, her gaze cloudy. “I’m not sure. I just closed my eyes for a moment and—”

Honey Pelt cut in. “She wanted to climb to the top.” He looked up at the tall rock. “She wanted to stand where Wind Runner stands when she talks to the Clan.”

Moth Flight sniffed Blue Whisker’s pelt, feeling for heat that betrayed swelling.

Blue Whisker blinked her eyes open. “Moth Flight?”

Moth Flight’s throat tightened. “Where does it hurt?” she asked sharply.

“Nowhere.” Blue Whisker’s breath was shallow.

“Are you sure?” Moth Flight ran her paws over the kit’s white-and-yellow pelt, feeling for injuries.

Blue Whisker struggled to her paws, swaying slightly. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

Slate stared at the kit. “She was just winded.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Moth Flight’s heart pounded in her ears.

Blue Whisker met her gaze. “I’m sure.”

Relief flooded Moth Flight. She jerked her muzzle toward Slate. “Why weren’t you watching?”

Slate coughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling too well.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Frustration sparked in Moth Flight’s fur. Was she supposed to do everything? Take care of Rocky and watch her own kits? She swallowed back anger. Perhaps she should have asked Reed Tail to tend to Rocky. Or swallowed her pride and asked Wind Runner to watch the kits.