Moth Flight’s Vision

“It’s me, Moth Flight.” She padded closer. “I’m WindClan’s medicine cat—”

Pink Eyes interrupted. “You don’t need to tell me who you are. The Clan has been gossiping about you since you came back from Highstones, talking of spirit-cats.”

Moth Flight hesitated. The Clans gossiped about her? She shifted her paws self-consciously as Pink Eyes went on.

“You told Cloud Spots to be our medicine cat, so now he wants me to eat herbs,” he muttered peevishly. “He thinks he can cure my aches and pains. But you can’t cure old age.”

Cloud Spots squeezed out from the bramble. “I can try,” he called to Pink Eyes.

“I’d rather you brought me a fresh vole every day,” Pink

Eyes huffed.

Cloud Spots flashed Moth Flight an exasperated look. “It’s my job to take care of you.”

A young orange-and-white she-kit who looked about three moons old slid out from the bramble and raced toward the old tom. “Pink Eyes! Shall I fetch fresh moss for your bedding?”

A dappled gray tom-kit chased after her. “I’ll help you, Apple Blossom.” He stopped as he saw Moth Flight and Micah and blinked at them in surprise. “Are these the visitors you told

Milkweed about?” he asked Cloud Spots.

“Yes. Moth Flight and Micah.”

“Hi!” Apple Blossom dipped her head, then looked at Cloud

Spots. “Can we go and gather moss for Pink Eyes’s bed?”

Pink Eyes snorted. “I don’t need my nest stuffed with damp moss.”

Apple Blossom lifted her tail. “We’ll lay it in the sun to dry first.” She flicked her muzzle toward the dappled gray tom-kit.

“Snail Shell says he found a patch of the softest moss ever.”

The tom-kit nodded. “We can fetch it now.”

Cloud Spots frowned. “Is it far from camp?”

Snail Shell shook his head. “It’s near the top of the ravine.”

Apple Blossom blinked hopefully at the ThunderClan medicine cat. “We won’t be gone long.”

Cloud Spots dipped his head. “Be careful climbing down.

It’s hard to see where you’re putting your paws with a mouthful of moss.”

Apple Blossom hared toward the gorse barrier. “We won’t fall.”

Snail Shell chased after her, disappearing through the gap in the dark green branches.

Pink Eyes rolled his eyes dramatically. “Between swallowing herbs and having my nest cleaned out, I don’t get a moment’s peace.”

Cloud Spots purred. “And don’t forget all the kit-watching you do,” he teased.

“Kit-watching!” Pink Eyes grunted. “I suppose I feel useful helping out Gooseberry and Yew Tail. Makes the new family feel welcome. But Apple Blossom and Snail Shell hardly need me anymore.”

“Shivering Rose, Hazel Burrow, and Morning Fire will, as soon as they’re big enough to leave the den.”

Moth Flight pricked her ears. If Apple Blossom and Snail Shell belong to a new family, then the kits Cloud Spots just mentioned must be… “Are they Milkweed’s kits?”

Cloud Spots nodded, glancing toward the bramble bush. “Do you want to see them?”

“Yes.” Though Moth Flight was more interested in finding out if Milkweed had eaten the borage Cloud Spots had taken her. She followed the ThunderClan medicine cat toward the tangle of brambles that spilled from one edge of the clearing. As she neared, she saw a small entrance hollowed among the stems.

Cloud Spots stuck his nose in. “Milkweed! Moth Flight’s here. May she see your kits?”

“Of course!” A gentle mew sounded from inside.

Moth Flight glanced at Micah, standing in the clearing. “Can

Micah come?”

Micah shrugged. “Cow always told me to leave a queen and her kits to themselves. I’ll keep Pink Eyes company,” he meowed. “He must have plenty of stories to share.”

Pink Eyes’s tail twitched. “I don’t see why a young tom like you would be interested, but okay.”

Cloud Spots wriggled through the brambles and Moth Flight followed. She was surprised to find herself in a wide hollow walled by prickly stems. Sunlight speared through gaps in the branches. “How did you make this den?” she asked, gazing around.

“Carefully,” Cloud Spots purred.

Three wide nests, woven from twigs and lined with moss, sat on a dry earth floor. A splotchy ginger-and-black she-cat gazed with amber eyes from one. Three tiny kits squirmed at her belly, their eyes closed.

The warm scent of milk touched Moth Flight’s nose. One of the kits began mewling as another pushed him away from his mother’s soft flank. Milkweed quickly scooped him near with a paw. “That’s Hazel Burrow,” she purred. “Shivering Rose and Morning Fire are always stealing his milk. But he’s going to grow into a handsome tom, just like his father.”

“They’re all beautiful.” Moth Flight gazed at the black-and-white tom-kit, happy now as he nursed at Milkweed’s belly.

Shivering Rose nuzzled in beside him, her black pelt as fluffy as an owl chick’s, while Morning Fire squirmed closer, her dark brown fur camouflaged among the shadows.

Moth Flight glanced toward the empty nest on the other side of the den. It smelled warm. “Is that Apple Blossom and Snail

Shell’s nest?”

“They share it with their mother, Gooseberry,” Cloud Spots told her.