Moth Flight’s Vision

Like nettles. Micah’s words rang in her mind. If only she’d met him in the woods; he could have helped her find it. She paused. A wonderful scent was filling her nose. She blinked, gazing around.

There! A leafy plant, just like Micah had described, was crammed between a flowering shrub and a spiky grass. She hurried toward it, her pelt pricking as its scent reached inside her. Excitement flared in her belly. She stopped beside it and plunged her muzzle deep into the plant, dizzy as she breathed in the mouthwatering smell. It was just like Micah had said. You’ll know it when you find it!

She grabbed a clump of stems between her teeth and ripped them away from the plant. Laying them at her paws, she grabbed another mouthful, tearing away as much as she could.

Delighted, she patted the broken stems into a tight bunch and bent to pick them up. Thanks, Micah.

She paused, remembering their journey to Highstones. It was still so vivid in her mind: the sun setting behind the stones; the meal Micah had caught for her before she’d gone into the tunnel. She’d been so nervous, and he’d been so reassuring.

That had been the best night of her life. She suddenly tasted the scent of damp stone and imagined the spirit-cats shimmering into view around her. Joy warmed her belly as she pictured how kindly they’d greeted her. You’re special—

A loud yelp broke into her thoughts. She jerked her muzzle around. A Twoleg burst from its nest and raced toward her. It was barking like an angry dog.

Moth Flight’s heart seemed to burst. Blind with panic, she snatched up the catmint between her jaws and hared for the wooden wall. Twoleg paws grabbed for her, their clammy flesh pulling her fur as she twisted free. A growl rumbling in her throat, she leaped up the wall and clung to the top. The Twoleg was yowling in rage, its red face only a tail-length away.

Fighting terror, Moth Flight leaped along the wooden ridge, her claws stretched as it wobbled beneath her. In a moment, she was beyond the Twoleg’s reach. Another wall blocked its way, and it was clearly too clumsy to climb over. She slowed, finding her balance and made her way shakily back toward Dust

Muzzle.

Her brother was already hurrying toward her, his pelt bushed, his gaze flashing toward the barking Twoleg. “Did it hurt you?”

Moth Flight’s mouth was too full to speak. Instead she jumped down into the forest. She spat out the catmint and sucked in a deep breath.

Dust Muzzle landed beside her, darting around her anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“Just scared!” she panted. “I didn’t see it coming until too late.”

Spotted Fur scrambled down the wall. “What happened?”

Dust Muzzle rolled his eyes. “My dreamy sister nearly got caught by a Twoleg.”

Moth Flight glared at him furiously. “I can’t help being dreamy!” she hissed. Be yourself. Half Moon’s words flashed in her mind. “It’s just the way I am.”

“One day it’s going to get you into trouble,” Dust Muzzle fretted.

“I escaped, didn’t I?” Moth Flight lashed her tail. “And don’t tell Wind Runner! She’ll just worry about me!”

Spotted Fur nosed between them and sniffed the catmint. “It does smell good!” A purr rumbled in his throat. “Can I chew some?” He was already rubbing his cheek against the stems.

Moth Flight nosed him away sharply. “That’s medicine for Rocky!” she snapped, still angry with her brother. “He doesn’t want your drool all over it.” She snatched up the stems and marched back into the forest.

Paws aching from the journey home, Moth Flight left Dust

Muzzle and Spotted Fur to hunt on the moor and hurried back to camp. Holding her head high so she didn’t trip over the stems, she scrabbled over the tussocky clearing and headed for her den.

Jagged Peak looked up as she passed. “That smells mouthwatering!”

She dipped her head to him, unable to answer.

Storm Pelt and Eagle Feather fell in beside her, leaning close to sniff the leaves.

“What’s that?” A purr rumbled in Storm Pelt’s throat.

“Is it for Rocky?” Eagle Feather asked.

Moth Flight dropped the stems at the entrance to her den.

The heady scent clouded her thoughts and she shook out her pelt, hoping to clear them. “It’s catmint,” she told them.

Eagle Feather was crouching, sniffing at the leaves. “Where did you find it?”

“Twolegplace.” Moth Flight could hear Rocky coughing inside her den.

“It’s a shame it doesn’t grow on the moor.” Storm Pelt’s blue eyes shone. “It smells great.”

“It’s for curing coughs.” Moth Flight shooed Eagle Feather away with a flick of her tail. “It’s precious.” She glanced toward the sandy dip beside the big stone. Sunlight pooled at the bottom. If she dried the leaves, they wouldn’t rot. She hooked two stems from the pile and pushed the rest toward Storm Pelt.