Moth Flight’s Vision

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.

Angrily, she turned on Blue Whisker. “What were you doing climbing the rock? Didn’t you realize it was dangerous?”

Honey Pelt padded in front of his sister. “She saw me do it yesterday,” he told her.

Moth Flight blinked. “You climbed it yesterday?”

“I did too,” Spider Paw lifted his chin.

“And me,” Bubbling Stream told her.

Moth Flight stared at them. Why hadn’t she noticed?

“It was while you were at the Gathering,” Honey Pelt told her, as though reading her thoughts.

“Did Rocky let you?”

“He said we were too timid. And that Micah would have had us hunting on the moor by now.” Spider Paw glanced guiltily toward Rocky’s den. “He promised to catch us if we fell.”

Bubbling Stream padded closer. “He wouldn’t let Blue

Whisker climb. He said she wasn’t ready.”

“So she decided to try it today.” Moth Flight glared at Blue

Whisker.

Blue Whisker’s eyes glistened. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

Honey Pelt puffed out his chest. “I didn’t see her climbing, or I’d have stopped her.”

But you didn’t! Moth Flight shifted her paws. Why should you? He was only a kit. He wasn’t responsible for Blue Whisker’s safety. I am!

“Is she okay?” Her mother’s voice took her by surprise.

Moth Flight glanced over her shoulder and saw Wind Runner stalking across the hollow. Reed Tail and Spotted Fur hurried after her.

“She’s fine,” Moth Flight told them. “Just winded.” As she spoke, she was suddenly aware of heat pulsing from Slate’s pelt.

She sniffed at the she-cat, and smelled the sour scent of fever.

“You should go and rest in your den,” she told her softly, guilt pricking beneath her pelt.

Slate didn’t argue, but padded slowly away.

Moth Flight jerked her muzzle toward Blue Whisker. “Go and play with your littermates.” She watched her kits head away, tails drooping.

Spotted Fur trotted after them. “Why don’t we have a game of moss ball!” he called.

Honey Pelt turned, his gaze brightening. “Can I be on your team?”

“I want to be on Spotted Fur’s team!” Bubbling Stream raced toward the golden tom and clambered onto his shoulders.

Spider Paw glanced at Blue Whisker. “You can be on my team,” he purred. “We’ll beat them easily.”

Moth Flight dragged her gaze away, gratitude soothing the tension in her belly. Thank you, Spotted Fur.