Moth Flight’s Vision

Clear Sky didn’t blink. “He chose to climb back up the tree,” he meowed simply. “He could have stayed on the ground.”

Moth Flight’s mind whirled. Was Clear Sky blaming Micah?

Star Flower stepped forward, her emerald gaze round with sympathy. “You are angry,” she mewed. “A cat you loved has died. But what is the point of blaming Clear Sky? Or Red Claw or Willow Tail? The tree was rotten. Do you blame the tree?”

“Yes!” Moth Flight’s pelt bristled. “And Rocky’s cough for sending us there! And Clear Sky! And Red Claw and Willow

Tail!” Her thoughts seemed to whirl as rage flared. “And Micah for being so dumb!”

Star Flower blinked at her. “Would Micah have blamed anyone?”

I’m glad I spent this time with you. His dying words echoed in her mind. Shame washed her pelt. He could have hated me for bringing him here… but instead, he was grateful. She felt the eyes of the other cats fixed on her and backed away, grief welling once more in her chest as her anger withered.

Wind Runner brushed her cheek with her muzzle. “Let’s say good-bye to Micah kindly.”

Nettle crouched and let Micah’s body slip from his shoulders. It dropped into the hole with a thud. Clear Sky stepped forward and looked into the darkness.

No! Moth Flight closed her eyes and pictured Micah on the stepping-stones, the river sparkling around him. That night, as they’d curled in their nest in Dappled Pelt’s den, he’d asked her to be his mate. While Dappled Pelt slept they’d planned a future in soft whispers. They’d told each other that StarClan would find a way for them to be together; they could be medicine cats to both Clans, traveling between them, but always at each other’s side.

Moth Flight felt her mother’s flank pressing against hers.

She watched as Clear Sky pushed a pawful of earth into the hole. Would either leader have let them live that way? Would StarClan?

She’d never know now.

Her throat tightened. A wave of sadness flooded her, so strong that the ground swayed beneath her. Wind Runner pressed harder against her. Gorse Fur padded to her other side and pushed his shoulder beneath hers.

Clear Sky lifted his muzzle. “I had doubts about taking Micah in,” he meowed. “When he cured Tiny Branch, I regretted my promise to let him stay. He was a farm cat, sleek from easy living, too sure of himself to be trusted. I didn’t think he had any place in a Clan.”

Nettle nodded. Quick Water murmured in agreement.

Clear Sky went on. “But I was wrong.” He gazed sadly into the grave. “He devoted every thought and every moment to his Clanmates.” His gaze flitted from Nettle to Quick Water. “All of us who doubted him came to respect his intelligence and value his kindness.” The SkyClan cats nodded solemnly.

Star Flower moved closer to the SkyClan leader as he continued. “I respected Micah. He stood up to me. He did what he thought was right, not what would please me. He died doing what he thought was right.” He looked at Moth Flight. “He had to climb back into the tree; he was being true to himself. He died as he lived—caring about others, bravely and without hesitation. We were lucky to have known him, even for so short a while.”

The forest seemed to spin around Moth Flight. She felt Wind Runner and Gorse Fur press closer, supporting her as her paws buckled beneath her.

Clear Sky’s gaze was still on her. “Will you speak for him?”

“I can’t—” Moth Flight faltered. Grief seemed to be tearing her heart in two. The other cats stared at her expectantly. She glanced into the hole, glimpsing a flash of Micah’s pelt where the rising sun’s rays pierced the depths. “May StarClan light your path.”

She blinked, surprised at herself. The words seemed to appear in her mouth and roll from her tongue as though she had spoken them countless times before.

“May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.”

Murmurs of approval rippled around the other cats.

Moth Flight backed away.

Wind Runner was watching her, eyes bright with worry.

“I’m okay,” Moth Flight breathed. “I just need to be alone.”

She turned and fled back to the glade, skidding to a halt as she saw the scattered remains of the splintered branch. She turned, her gaze flashing wildly around the forest, unsure where to go.

“Moth Flight.” A gentle mew sounded from the trees behind her.

Pebble Heart padded over the rise. “I came to pay my respects.”

Moth Flight glanced past him, toward the grave, hidden beyond the crest of the hollow. “Are they burying him?” She pictured the earth tumbling over Micah’s poor, beautiful, broken body.

“He is safe now.” Pebble Heart stopped beside her. “You should go home and mourn.”