Moth Flight’s Vision

“Perhaps,” Cloud Spots conceded. “But he also wants to please StarClan.”

Micah’s whiskers twitched. “I’m not sure Clear Sky cares much about what StarClan thinks. But he cares about his Clan.”

Cloud Spots dipped his head. “He’s become a worthy leader.”

Moth Flight looked toward the bramble thicket. “Are we near the camp?”

“It’s not far,” Cloud Spots told her. “I’m heading back there once I’ve collected some borage leaves.”

Moth Flight gazed at him blankly. “What’s borage?”

“I’ll show you.” Cloud Spots led them along a winding track through bracken, stopping as the trees thinned. In the patchy sunlight beyond, green plants crowded the forest floor. Their soft leaves looked furry and buds showed at the top of each stem. “By greenleaf, this patch will be purple with flowers.”

Moth Flight padded among the stems, breathing in the zesty perfume. She stopped and touched her nose to a leaf, surprised by its softness. “What’s it for?”

“The leaves help soothe bad bellies,” Cloud Spots told her.

“And relieve tight chests. They can also help nursing queens to make more milk for their kits.”

Micah weaved among the stems. “Is someone ill?”

“Milkweed has just had kits,” Cloud Spots told her.

Moth Flight blinked. Newleaf seemed to bring kits like it brought fresh leaves. She wondered if any cat in WindClan was expecting.

Micah ran his paw over a borage leaf. “Doesn’t she have enough milk?”

“I’m just making sure,” Cloud Spots told him. “Milkweed’s not as young as she used to be. She had her first litter many moons ago, before she joined the Clan.”

“Is Leaf the father?” Moth Flight tipped her head, curious.

She’d seen Leaf and Milkweed at gatherings. They’d always stayed close, watching each other with a fondness she’d only seen between her mother and Gorse Fur.

“Yes,” Cloud Spots purred.

Moth Flight reached out a paw and tore a borage leaf from its stem.

“The best leaves grow halfway up the stem,” Cloud Spots told her. “Not too tough, but old enough to have plenty of sap.”

Moth Flight chose another leaf closer to the middle of the plant. “Like this one?”

“That’s great.” Cloud Spots picked a leaf from the plant beside him and laid it on the ground.

Together they picked enough to make a small pile, then Cloud Spots rolled them into a tight bundle and clasped it between his jaws.

He headed away through the trees. Moth Flight followed, Micah on her tail. They pushed past the brambles and headed across a clearing, Cloud Spots slowing as the forest sloped upward.

He flicked his tail sharply, his ears twitching a warning.

Moth Flight halted as the medicine cat stopped and looked down. She followed his gaze, amazed to see the land drop away into a steep ravine.

Spindly trees and bushes crowded the bottom. “Is the camp down there?”

“Yes.” Cloud Spots placed his bundle on the ground.

“Follow my route down the cliff and watch closely where I put my paws. Some of the ledges are narrow.” Picking up the wad of borage, he scrambled down onto a wide shelf, then hopped onto a narrow jutting stone below.

Moth Flight glanced nervously at Micah.

“Trust your paws,” Micah told her. “They led you to the Moonstone.” Slithering onto the first ledge, he followed Cloud

Spots. Moth Flight ignored her pounding heart and jumped down after him.

She landed clumsily and sent grit showering down. “Sorry!” she called as it sprayed Cloud Spots and Micah.

Micah shook the dirt from his pelt. “Don’t worry!”

Carefully, Moth Flight leaped down onto the next ledge, unsheathing her claws to help her grip. Fear sparked beneath her pelt as she hopped from rock to rock until at last she saw the ground below. She landed on the smooth earth beside Micah, limp with relief. But there was still no sign of the camp. A large gorse bush blocked their way. She scanned it, searching for an entrance, but it was only when Cloud Spots slid among the dark green branches that she saw it. She followed Micah through, aware of the high cliffs and thick bushes looming on every side.

It was different from the airy RiverClan camp.

As she emerged from the gorse, she blinked, surprised to see a grassy clearing. Bushes encircled it, and a wide thicket of bramble crowded one end, while a great rock towered at the other. On the far side, a cliff showed amid burgeoning ferns and, at the other side, a rotting tree lay, bark crumbling around it.

Cloud Spots headed for the brambles, while Micah paused in the clearing.

Moth Flight stopped beside him. She could smell

ThunderClan scents. They clung to the grass and drifted from every bush, but there was no sign of any cat. “Where is every cat?”

“Hunting!” Cloud Spots called over his shoulder before disappearing among the bramble stems.

“I’m not.” A croaky mew sounded from the shadows beneath a jutting branch of the fallen tree. A skinny white tom crept out. Moth Flight recognized Pink Eyes. She’d seen him at her first Gathering. He blinked through sunlight shafting past the thick canopy. Is he blind now? The tom was squinting, as though trying to make them out.