Moth Flight’s Vision

“I’ll be as quick as I can.” Moth Flight ducked from the den, screwing up her eyes against the harsh sunshine. Slate was lying in the long grass outside her den. The gray she-cat was recovering from her cough, but was still weak. Storm Pelt was nosing through the prey pile with Swift Minnow. The other hunting parties were still out on the moor. Jagged Peak had been organizing patrols while Wind Runner was sick, making sure the prey pile was well stocked.

“Moth Flight!” Blue Whisker’s excited mew sounded from the sandy hollow. “Have you come to play with us?”

Moth Flight stiffened. “I have to go and speak with Dappled Pelt.”

Spider Paw scrambled out of the hollow and stared at her.

“But you haven’t played with us for days!”

Honey Pelt and Bubbling Stream stopped wrestling beside

Blue Whisker, untangling themselves and jumping to their paws.

“Just one badger ride!” Honey Pelt mewed.

“Please.” Bubbling Stream blinked at her eagerly.

Moth Flight’s belly tightened with frustration. Digging her claws into the earth she met Honey Pelt’s gaze. “I’ll play with you as much as you like once Wind Runner is well.”

Slate heaved herself to her paws. “I’ll play with them,” she puffed.

“You need to rest,” Moth Flight told her sternly.

Storm Pelt looked up from the prey pile and called to Honey Pelt. “Once I’ve eaten, I’ll give you a badger ride.”

“And me?” Bubbling Stream scrambled toward the young tom.

“Eagle Feather and Dew Nose will be back from hunting patrol soon,” Storm Pelt told her. “Then you can have as many badger rides as you want.”

Moth Flight glanced gratefully at Storm Pelt. “Thank you.”

She headed over the tussocky clearing and hurried out of camp.

The heather was browning after endless days of sunshine.

Moth Flight looked at the horizon, hope flickering in her belly as she saw clouds bubbling in the distance. Rain might help cool

Wind Runner’s fever. The feverfew leaves she’d given her hadn’t helped.

She headed downslope. The dry heather jabbed her pelt as she nosed through it. Grass crunched beneath her paws. As she neared the gorge, she heard the faint swish of the river far below. Slowing as she neared the edge, she followed the steep trail that sloped down the cliff and flattened onto the shore. In newleaf, the river churned and frothed between the sheer sides of the gorge, swelled by moons of rain and snowmelt. Now, it swirled smoothly, its deep currents pushing quietly against the bank. Moth Flight stopped to lap water, her throat burning with thirst, then hurried along the bank as it opened onto marshland.

She could see stepping-stones ahead and remembered, with a jab of grief, Micah waiting for her there only a few moons ago.

This time, she would cross them alone.

Micah? She lifted her face to the sky, hoping StarClan could hear her. How can I make Wind Runner well again?

The sun glared down at her, stinging her eyes, and she hurried along the bank. If StarClan couldn’t help her, maybe

Dappled Pelt could.

She reached the stepping-stones and bounded across. The sun-drenched rocks burned her pads and she paused on a low stone to let the river lap over her paws, relishing the water’s chill. She scanned the reeds ahead, searching for the opening where a trail would lead her to the RiverClan camp.

Fox scent touched her nose. She stiffened, unnerved by its freshness, and gazed along the river to where the water split the reed beds from the forest. Among the trees, birds chattered in the cool shadows. Wings flitted among the branches. But there was no sign of a red pelt between the trunks. She leaped the last few stones and landed on the marshy bank, pelt pricking as the fox stench grew stronger. She paused, stretching onto her hind legs to peer over the reeds. Was a fox skulking there? She couldn’t turn back. She needed to reach Dappled Pelt. Padding along the shore, she pricked her ears. A gap showed in the reed wall beside her. Her heart lifted. It was the trail she and Micah had followed on their first visit. She opened her mouth, letting scents wash her tongue. The fox stench was still strong.

She paused. River Ripple would have smelled it surely?

He’d have sent patrols to drive the fox away from his camp. It must be gone by now. She ignored the foreboding in her belly.

She’d have to risk it. Wind Runner’s life depended on her.

As she ducked into the reeds, squeals sounded behind her.

Her heart lurched as she recognized the desperate mewls.

“Spider Paw!”

“Help him!”

“He’ll drown!”

She turned and saw Honey Pelt, Bubbling Stream, and Blue

Whisker clustered on a stepping-stone in the middle of the river.

They huddled, fur bushed, and stared at the water flowing away from them.

Moth Flight followed their gaze, horror sparking through her fur. Her heart lurched as a paw jutted from the water, disappearing again as the current swept it onward.

Lightning seemed to jolt through her. She pelted toward the stepping stones, ignoring the surprised squeals of Honey Pelt and Bubbling Stream.

“Moth Flight!”