Moth Flight’s Vision

Dust Muzzle’s eyes glittered with horror. “If Gorse Fur hadn’t knocked you out of the way—”

Wind Runner didn’t let him finish. “You could have both been killed!”

Moth Flight saw fear in her mother’s gaze. She stiffened, cold dread rippling beneath her pelt. She had never seen her mother frightened before.

“Are you hurt?” Dust Muzzle leaned forward, sniffing at Moth Flight’s pelt. The young tom’s gaze flicked toward Gorse

Fur. “Are you both okay?”

Gorse Fur blinked reassuringly. “We’re fine,” he promised.

Wind Runner’s gaze burned into Moth Flight’s. “No thanks to you!”

Moth Flight backed away, suddenly scared. “I’m sorry.” She began to tremble. Gorse Fur and I both could have died! And it was my fault!

The ground swayed beneath her paws.

“You’ve always been irresponsible!” Wind Runner’s sharp words cut through her jumbled thoughts. “Losing Slate’s kits, getting lost collecting plants when you should have been hunting. We’re used to that. But you’ve never been this reckless! You’re not just a danger to yourself! You’re a danger to your Clan!”

“I’m s-sorry.” Guilt welled inside Moth Flight, rising in her throat until she could hardly speak.

“You’ve worn that word out today!” Every hair on Wind Runner’s pelt stood on end. “Sorry doesn’t bring back cats from the dead! WindClan would be better off without you!”

Moth Flight hardly heard Dust Muzzle’s gasp or the gentle words of Gorse Fur as he tried to calm his mate.

“No one was actually hurt,” he soothed.

Moth Flight’s heart seemed to crack in her chest. Wind Runner is right. She was a danger to her Clan. What if Silver Stripe had been killed by a badger? Or Black Ear carried away by a buzzard? What if Gorse Fur had been killed by a monster as he tried to save me?

As she backed away, her vision blurred. What have I done?

She stared at her family, her chest too tight to breathe.

“Where are you going?” Wind Runner yowled.

“I need time to think,” Moth Flight struggled to speak. “I need to be by myself for a while.” Unsteadily, she turned and headed for the hedge beyond the grass verge.

Gorse Fur’s mew rang behind her. “You can’t just go off by yourself!”

“Don’t try and stop me!” she wailed. She slid beneath the hedge and began running. Shallow ridges of soil stretched before her and she raced over them, her paws slipping into the furrows and tripping over ridges. But she had to keep going.

She had to get away!

“Come back!” Wind Runner’s call echoed from beyond the hedge. “Sulking won’t help!”

I’m not sulking! Moth Flight’s thoughts whirled as grief stormed inside her. But you’re right! I am a danger to my Clan.

I don’t deserve to be with you.

Chapter 5

Moth Flight raced blindly across the field until golden branches loomed ahead, forcing her to a stop. She pulled up, heart lurching, her paws sinking into the soft soil. A beech hedge blocked her way. She glanced back across the ridged earth. No one had followed. Good! Her throat tightened. Are they relieved I’ve left?

She gazed bleakly around. Beyond the hedge top, rooks whirled like dark leaves around the canopy of a large elm. They shouted at one another while a monster howled along the Thunderpath behind and, somewhere far away, dogs barked.

Moth Flight shivered. A cold wind was tugging at her pelt.

Down here, in the valley, shadow swathed the fields. The sun was hidden by Highstones now, but its rays still bathed the moortop in soft orange light. Slinking beneath the beech hedge, she pressed her belly to the earth and tucked her nose between her paws.

What now?

She was of no use to her Clan. And the moth had disappeared. As she’d chased it, she had been so sure she’d been heading the right way. Now she didn’t know where to go. The beech leaves rattled around her and she drew her paws in tighter.

Her belly growled. She hadn’t eaten all day and even her misery couldn’t hide her hunger.

I should hunt.

She lifted her head and gazed halfheartedly through the shadows, hoping to spot a mouse scuttling among the roots.

Only the leaves stirred. She peered from under the branches at the field. Birds swooped across the furrows, trawling for insects, before swooping out of reach. Moth Flight’s tail drooped. Wind Runner would catch one easily. She’d crouch in a dip, invisible against the earth, and hook one as it dived. But not me. Even if she was any good at hunting, Moth Flight knew her white pelt would give her away.

Wind ruffled the surface of a puddle a few tail-lengths away.

At least she could drink. Moth Flight slid out from beneath the hedge and padded toward it. As she neared, movement caught her eye. A dark brown toad was slithering along the edge.