Moth Flight’s Vision

“It is with you!” Moth Flight snapped. “Visiting the RiverClan camp won’t change that.”

“But you’re going because StarClan ordered you to, not Wind Runner,” Holly chipped in. “Are you a WindClan cat or a

StarClan cat?”

Moth Flight stared in dismay at her Clanmates. How could any cat doubt her loyalty? Her mother was the Clan leader!

Wind Runner lashed her tail. “Stop all this mouse-brained chatter!” she growled. “I realize that we are not used to having a medicine cat among us. And it feels strange to take orders from spirit-cats. But Moth Flight only has the good of the Clan in her heart. She is going to learn so that she can take care of us better.” She fixed her gaze on Slate. “If one of your kits falls ill, wouldn’t you want Moth Flight to know as much as she can about healing?” She turned to Jagged Peak, her gaze hardening.

“Never suggest that Moth Flight’s loyalties are divided! She was born a WindClan cat and, whatever happens, her heart will belong with her Clanmates.”

Moth Flight felt a surge of gratitude toward her mother. But Spotted Fur’s accusing gaze still burned her pelt. She stared at her paws. He’s jealous of Micah. Guilt wormed in her belly. Was it disloyal of her to like the SkyClan medicine cat so much?

She left her mouse and padded across the clearing. “I promised I’d meet Micah at sunhigh.” She avoided her Clanmates’ stares. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but if there’s an emergency, send for me.”

Ignoring the hushed murmurs behind her, she slid out of camp, relieved to feel the cool wind in her fur.

Moth Flight headed for the RiverClan border. As she climbed down the steep path that led to the river, she saw

Micah, seated on a stepping-stone. He was silhouetted, still and strong, against the flashing water. He looked up as she neared and she narrowed her eyes against the glare of the sparkling ripples.

Behind him, the river split, cutting through the reed beds to create an island in the middle. She knew from listening to her Clanmates talk that RiverClan made their camp there and she wondered what it would feel like to be entirely surrounded by water.

“It’s so peaceful here!” Micah’s purr rumbled over the chattering stream.

Moth Flight jumped gingerly onto the first stepping-stone, watching the water as it swirled around her. She flinched as a ripple broke over the edge of the stone and splashed her forepaw.

Micah purred louder. “You might have to get used to getting your paws wet in RiverClan.”

“I hope not.” She shook the water off.

It felt good to be away from camp. The newleaf sun warmed her pelt. The river was sheltered from the wind by the forest on one side and the cliffs on the other. Pungent scents filled her nose and the birds chattered over the babbling of the river. She blinked happily at Micah. Alone here, with him, she didn’t need to impress Wind Runner, or know how to treat Black Ear’s bellyache or Storm Pelt’s itchy ears.

She crossed the stepping-stones until she reached Micah, then lifted her face to the sun and half closed her eyes. The wind whisked the reed beds on the far shore, stirring the rushes until they rippled like water.

Downstream, a black she-cat padded onto the shore. An orange she-cat passed her, wading into the shallows until the water streamed through her belly fur. She dipped her head, then plunged beneath the surface.

Moth Flight froze. “She sank!”

Micah leaned forward, ears pricked. “Wait.” He watched the water until suddenly, with a splash, the RiverClan she-cat broke the surface a few tail-lengths away, a fish clamped between her jaws. She swam back to shore, then hauled herself out and disappeared among the reeds. Her Clanmate gave a mrrow of approval, then followed.

Moth Flight shivered. “I hope Dappled Pelt doesn’t try to teach us to do that!”

Micah purred. “If she does, you can threaten to teach her how to hunt in your tunnels.”

“I hate tunnel-hunting,” Moth Flight confessed. “It’s Dust

Muzzle’s specialty, not mine.”

“You’re a medicine cat,” Micah reminded her. “You have your own special skills.”

“I wish.”

“That’s why we came here.” Micah jumped onto the next stone and crossed to the far shore. He glanced back at Moth Flight. “We’ll know plenty by the time we leave. But we’d better hurry up. Those cats probably told Dappled Pelt we’re on our way.”

Ruefully, Moth Flight followed. She wished she could spend all afternoon watching the river with Micah. But he was right.

Dappled Pelt would be expecting them. She landed on the sandy shore and followed Micah along a trail that wove among the reeds. The earth was muddy and squelched between her claws.

As the trail widened, she caught up with Micah. “What did Clear Sky say when you told him you were visiting RiverClan?”

“He wasn’t happy.” Micah kept his gaze fixed ahead.

“Did he try and stop you?” Moth Flight scanned Micah’s pelt for scratches.

“He wanted to know why,” Micah told her. “It took a while to convince him that it was for the good of SkyClan but, in the end, he agreed.”