Moth Flight’s Vision

She peered, blinking, into the blackness beyond the kit, wondering with a shiver how far the tunnel stretched and what might be at the end of it. She sniffed for rat scent, pricking her ears to listen for the slither of tails. Nothing. The tunnel was clear. “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she whispered into Silver Stripe’s soft ear. “I should have been watching you.”

Silver Stripe’s cold muzzle brushed her cheek. “I’m sorry we ran off,” she apologized, her mew thick.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Moth Flight ducked and tucked her nose beneath the kit’s haunches. “Jump!” she ordered, her mew muffled by fur. As Silver Stripe leaped, Moth Flight heaved her upward. She smelled Spotted Fur’s warm breath as he reached down and grabbed the kit’s scruff, scooping her into the light.

“Silver Stripe!” White Tail squeaked happily.

Black Ear mewled with excitement. “We thought rats would get you for sure.”

Spotted Fur purred. “Are you coming, Moth Flight?”

Moth Flight hardly heard him. As she stared at the ring of light above her, a sharp tang touched her nose. She opened her mouth, intrigued. There was an unfamiliar sour scent mingled in with the heavy smell of earth. She glanced down the tunnel, widening her eyes to adjust to the gloom. White roots dangled from the roof of the tunnel a tail-length away. They didn’t smell like grass roots. Or heather. Or gorse. I knew there must be special plants growing in this sandy soil! Her heart quickening, Moth Flight padded deeper into the darkness until her face brushed the roots. Sticking out her tongue, she licked them gingerly, intrigued by their sweet flavor. I wonder what the leaves of this plant look like? Moth Flight knew that she wasn’t far from the surface. Leaning back on her haunches, she began to dig upward, through the earth around the roots. If she could just claw away a few pawfuls of soil, she’d be able to drag the whole plant down and look at it properly.

“Moth Flight?” Spotted Fur’s mew echoed along the tunnel.

“Where are you?”

“Coming,” she called back absently. Dirt spilled onto her tongue as she spoke, and she coughed, spitting it out.

“Hurry up!” Willow Tail’s mew was sharper than Spotted Fur’s. “We need to get these kits back to their mother. They’re tired and hungry!”

“I won’t be long!” Moth Flight scrabbled harder at the soil above her head, screwing up her eyes against the earth, which showered her face. The roots were thicker, higher up, and she curled her claws into their flesh and tugged. They slid free, bringing pawfuls of dirt with them as Moth Flight dragged the plant down into the tunnel. Laying it on the ground, she tried to make out the shape of the leaves.

“Moth Flight!” Willow Tail sounded angry. “We need you up here!”

Moth Flight grasped the plant between her jaws and raced back along the tunnel. Reaching up, she scrambled out, thankful to feel Spotted Fur’s teeth in her scruff as he helped haul her free of the crumbling earth.

“What, in all the stars, is that?” Willow Tail stared at the plant dangling from Moth Flight’s jaws.

Moth Flight dropped it, spitting out dirt. “I don’t know,” she spluttered. “But I want to find out.”

Willow Tail glared at her. “You’re not bringing it with you,” she snapped. “These kits are two moons old and too tired to walk back to camp. They need carrying.”

Moth Flight’s heart sank. She glanced at the plant she’d unearthed. Its bright green leaves had scalloped edges and it smelled pungent—almost how she imagined RiverClan water plants would smell. “I can’t leave it behind!” She knew all the plants on the high moor. This was new! She looked hopefully at Spotted Fur. “Can’t one of the kits ride on your back?”

“I’ll ride,” Black Ear offered. His eyes were dull with tiredness. “It’s better than being carried.”

Willow Tail snorted at Moth Flight. “Do you really think he’ll have the strength to hang on to Spotted Fur’s back all the way to camp?”

Spotted Fur glanced apologetically at Moth Flight. “Willow

Tail’s right. These kits need to be carried.”

“I can make it,” Black Ear promised. “I know I can.”

“Of course you can.” Spotted Fur soothed the young kit.

“But it’ll be easier for me if you let Moth Flight carry you.”

Moth Flight sighed. “Okay.” The plant would have to wait.

“I guess I can come back and fetch this later.” She stroked the soft leaves with her paw. They felt furry.

Willow Tail’s ears twitched impatiently. “What do you want with a dead weed anyway?”

Moth Flight shrugged. “It’s interesting.”

Willow Tail shook her head, sighing. “Cats are meant to hunt prey, not plants.”

Spotted Fur nosed Black Ear gently toward Moth Flight. “If all cats were the same, life would be dull,” he meowed softly.

Willow Tail huffed disapprovingly and scooped up Silver Stripe by her scruff.

Spotted Fur lifted White Tail and Moth Flight grasped Black