Moth Flight’s Vision

Moth Flight’s heart sank as she saw a fish between the tortoiseshell’s jaws. It thrashed as she padded onto land, its scales glittering through the rain. Dappled Pelt stopped in front of them and dropped it on the ground.

Moth Flight hopped backward as it wriggled, spattering mud onto her paws.

Purring with amusement, Dappled Pelt stilled it with a forepaw and leaned to give a killing bite. “At least you know it’s fresh,” she meowed, looking up.

Micah glanced at Moth Flight. “Do you want the first taste?”

She flattened her ears and sniffed uneasily at the fish. “Is this a trout?”

Dappled Pelt’s eyes flashed. “It’s called a chub.”

Moth Flight stifled a shiver. “Does it taste anything like toad?”

“No!” Dappled Pelt snorted. “Who eats toads?”

“They taste like mud!” Micah spluttered.

Heat spread beneath Moth Flight’s pelt. There was no way she was going to tell Micah and Dappled Pelt that she’d shared one with Spotted Fur. She touched the chub gingerly with a paw.

Micah caught her eye. “Do you want to wait and see if River Ripple brings back a shrew?”

“No.” Moth Flight lifted her chin. She wasn’t a coward.

Besides, it would be rude to refuse Dappled Pelt’s gift. “I want to taste fish.” She leaned down and sank her teeth into the soft flank of the chub, delighted to find the texture meatier than the rubbery toad flesh. As she tore away a chunk, the flavor sang on her tongue. She blinked at Dappled Pelt in surprise. “It’s nice!”

Chewing, she relished the soft flesh. It tasted of fresh water.

“It’s delicious!”

“Don’t tell Wind Runner you like RiverClan food,” Micah joked. He took a mouthful, his eyes brightening as he chewed.

“Oh, you’re right! It’s great!”

As he spoke, River Ripple nosed his way through the reed wall of the camp, a water vole dangling from his jaws. Swift followed him, carrying a shrew. They stopped when they saw

Moth Flight and Micah.

River Ripple dropped the vole. “You’re eating fish!”

“It’s tasty!” Moth Flight ripped off another mouthful.

River Ripple nodded toward the shrew dangling from Swift’s jaws. “You might as well share that with the kits.”

The dark brown tom dipped his head and carried his catch toward the nest where Dawn Mist was curled with Drizzle and Pine Needle. Placing it beside the tightly woven bundle of reeds, he stuck his nose in and nudged Dawn Mist’s pelt.

She jerked her head up, blinking.

“How’s Drizzle?” Swift asked.

“I’m fine!” Drizzle sat up, ears pricked.

“I smell vole!” Pine Needle clambered onto his mother’s back and peered from the nest. Nose twitching, his gaze flashed toward River Ripple’s catch. He scrambled out of the nest and raced toward it. “Can I taste it?” He glanced at the RiverClan leader.

“Of course.” As River Ripple pushed the vole toward Pine

Needle, Drizzle leaped from the nest and hurried to her brother’s side.

“I want to taste it too!”

River Ripple purred. “It’s good to see you looking better.”

Drizzle stuck her tail up indignantly. “I wasn’t sick. I only went for a swim!”

River Ripple’s whiskers twitched. Water beaded along them as the rain grew heavier. He glanced up at the darkening sky.

“I’m going to my nest.” He headed toward a den, woven among the roots of another tree stump.

Moth Flight felt rain seeping through her pelt. “Where should we sleep?” she called after the RiverClan leader.

He paused and nodded toward Dappled Pelt’s den. “Is there room enough there?”

Dappled Leaf nodded. “They can share the spare nest.”

As River Ripple disappeared inside his den, Moth Flight glanced shyly at Micah. She’d only shared a nest with her brother before. Dust Muzzle had always teased her that it was like sleeping next to a badger. “I’m afraid I snore.”

“Good.” He took another bite of fish. “I snore too.”

Dappled Pelt rolled her eyes. “Great,” she muttered.

When they’d finished the chub, she led them to her den.

Rain was thrumming the earth as dusk gave way to night, and Moth Flight was relieved to slip into the shelter of the tree stump. She crossed the dark den and climbed into the reed nest on the far side, surprised to find the stems silky beneath her paws. All the sharp ends had been carefully tucked underneath so that curling into it felt almost as good as curling into her heather nest at home. She wriggled to one side, leaving room for Micah.

He squeezed in beside her. “Do you have enough room?”

“Yes.” Moth Flight purred as Micah’s warm pelt pressed against her.

Dappled Pelt’s golden gaze shone through the darkness.

“Are you both comfortable?”

“I am,” Micah purred.

“Me too.” Moth Flight snuggled deeper into the reeds. She yawned, suddenly sleepy. “I hope I remember everything I’ve learned today.”

“You will.” Micah shifted beside her, tucking his paws close to his belly.

Moth Flight blinked at him through the darkness. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget seeing Drizzle come back to life.”

“She was never dead,” Dappled Pelt meowed across the den.

“She just needed air in her chest instead of water.”