Moth Flight’s Vision

Flight lifted her nose from her paws and peeked out across the moonlit field. Frost sparkled on the furrows. Where is my moth now? With a flash of understanding, Moth Flight knew. It’s waiting to lead me! But where? And when? Why did it always seem to disappear just as she was starting to follow it?

Determination hardened in Moth Flight’s belly. This isn’t supposed to be easy. It doesn’t want me to give up! She stood up and slid from beneath the hedge, fluffing her fur against the cold. Dawn was lighting the sky beyond the looming moortop.

Spotted Fur would be awake soon. There was no time to waste.

How could she even think of returning to her Clan now?

Perhaps she was being foolish; perhaps she was wrong; perhaps the moth was nothing but a dream. But if Moth Flight went home now, she’d never stop wondering whether something important was waiting for her far from home.

I can’t leave Spotted Fur without telling him. If she was going to send him home without her, he had a right to know why. She dropped onto her belly and leaned into the nest, the warm smell of him filling her nose. Her heart ached. She was going to miss her Clan. But she had to follow her heart.

Stretching forward a paw, she prodded Spotted Fur.

Grunting, he lifted his head.

“I have to go,” Moth Flight whispered.

Struggling to open his eyes, he peered at her blearily.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I know it seems crazy but I know that there’s something I need to do. I can’t go home until I’ve done it. And if I don’t leave now, I may never have the chance again.”

Spotted Fur licked his lips, as though he was still lost in a dream. “No more toads,” he mumbled, his eyes slipping shut.

With a sigh, he rested his nose back onto his paws.

Moth Flight gazed at him, wondering if he’d even heard her.

She leaned forward and touched her nose to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Spotted Fur,” she repeated. Guilt pricked her heart as she wriggled backward, out of the hedge. “Good-bye. I hope we’ll see each other again.” She straightened, shaking leaf dust from her pelt. Glancing across the field, she wondered which way to head.

The moor lay behind her, Highstones ahead. Lifting her tail she padded forward, following the hedgerow until it turned, and then squeezed under it onto a dirt track beyond. A ditch ran beside the track, water swirling along the bottom. Moth Flight jumped into it, flinching as the cold water swallowed her paws.

Then she waded downstream, pleased that the narrow brook would wash away all scent of her. Spotted Fur wouldn’t be able to follow her trail. Whatever she was supposed to do, she knew that she must do it alone.

Chapter 7

When she felt sure that she’d disguised her trail completely, Moth Flight hopped out of the ditch, shaking water from her paws, and followed the dirt track. It turned suddenly, rising toward a Twoleg nest. Moth Flight halted. She didn’t want to stray close to Twolegs. They were unpredictable and kept dogs.

Instead, she nosed her way through a patch of bracken and found herself in an overgrown meadow.

Pushing through the long grass, she paused to sniff the stems, excited by how many unfamiliar plants grew here. There were flowers budding, and soft grass, rising taller than her tail.

It was so different from the moor, where the weather scoured the landscape so that only the toughest plants could survive and the few that did seemed to cling to the earth, keeping low for fear of being torn away by the relentless wind.

Here, plants grew fearlessly, as if they had no memory of cruel weather. Moth Flight’s nose filled with their pungent scent until she felt dizzy. She followed the valley, Highstones rising in the distance on one side, the moor looming on the other. Until she knew where she was meant to be going, she wanted both to be close.

What if her journey lay beyond the valley? Past Highstones?

Out of sight of the moor? Her belly tightened at the thought. It felt strange enough to be so far from her Clan, and heading away from Spotted Fur. As the sun rose and began to cross the wide, blue newleaf sky, she found herself slowing, unsure of her next paw steps. Perhaps this was where the moth had wanted to lead her; perhaps it had only wanted to show her the rich foliage growing so close to her home.

Her belly growled and she realized how hungry she was.

And thirsty. She licked her lips, tasting the air for water. If she could find another dirt track, there might be a ditch beside it. If she were lucky it would provide water and perhaps a vole. Or a toad, at least. She shuddered.