Moth Flight’s Vision

Moth Flight caught his eye, gratitude flooding her. “Thank you so much,” she mewed earnestly. “I’m sorry I left you responsible for everything. I just couldn’t face…” Her mew trailed away as a sudden wave of grief slapped against her like cold water. The familiar faces and scents had carried her back to a time before Micah had died. She swallowed.

Reed Tail shot her a look. “You’ll feel at home again in no time,” he promised.

“Yes,” she answered huskily. She stopped outside her den, her Clanmates watching from beyond the tussocks. They looked so pleased to see her. Her heart swelled with thanks. Then she spotted two pairs of eyes staring from the shadows of Jagged Peak’s den. Her fur prickled anxiously. Holly and Jagged Peak hadn’t wanted her to leave. She’d stayed away for a whole moon. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward them.

Jagged Peak ducked outside first, his ears twitching.

Holly followed, her gaze cool. “A grieving cat should stay with her Clan,” she muttered.

Jagged Peak glanced at Moth Flight’s belly. “Are you carrying his kits?”

“Micah’s?” Moth Flight narrowed her eyes. “Yes. And I’m proud of it.”

“He was a SkyClan cat,” Jagged Peak grunted.

Moth Flight glared at him. “He was a farm cat too! Does that make it better or worse?”

“Jagged Peak!” Storm Pelt charged across the clearing. He stopped in front of his father and mother and blinked at them.

“You should be happy she’s come home.”

Holly sniffed. “Why did she bother? She’s been away from WindClan so long, she doesn’t even smell like a WindClan cat anymore.”

Dew Nose slid from the den and stopped beside her brother.

“Moth Flight was born WindClan and she’ll always be

WindClan.”

Storm Pelt lifted his chin. “She’s the one who found the Moonstone. Aren’t you proud she’s our Clanmate?”

“Will her kits be our Clanmates too?” Holly muttered. “Even though they carry SkyClan blood?”

“And farm-cat blood,” Jagged Peak added.

Storm Pelt faced his mother, pelt prickling. “You weren’t born WindClan!” His gaze flashed toward his father. “And you were a mountain cat who left his tribe.”

Moth Flight shifted her paws uncomfortably. She didn’t want to cause an argument between kin.

Holly eyed her kits doubtfully. “How do we know she won’t leave again?”

“I won’t,” Moth Flight promised.

“Moth Flight!” Her mother’s mew rang across the clearing.

She turned to see the WindClan leader bounding toward her.

Wind Runner skidded to a halt and thrust her muzzle against

Moth Flight’s chin. “You’re home at last!” A sigh shuddered through her. She drew back, her gaze darkening. “Did you travel here by yourself? I hope you were careful near the SkyClan border. They’ve been raiding the moor for rabbits again. Of course, Clear Sky denies it but—” She stopped and stared at Moth Flight. “You’re expecting kits!”

Moth Flight sat down, letting her belly bulge. “They’re due in a moon.”

“Micah’s?” Wind Runner tipped her head.

“Of course.” Moth Flight purred. Did her mother think they could be anyone else’s?

“Let’s hope they take after you.” Wind Runner lowered her voice. “Micah was a little too sure of himself.”

Moth Flight met her mother’s gaze calmly. “And you’re not, I suppose.”

Wind Runner’s eyes widened with surprise. Then she purred. “My little kit has grown claws.”

Moth Flight glanced down at her belly. “I need to,” she mewed. “I’ve got my own kits to protect.”

Wind Runner swished her tail, pride warming her gaze.

“You must be tired after your journey. Let’s get you settled in your nest.”

Moth Flight got to her paws, suddenly realizing how weary she felt. She snatched a look at Jagged Peak and Holly, hoping that they’d be less prickly once they saw that she was here to stay. They avoided her gaze, their pelts ruffled.

Wind Runner nudged her toward her den. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Moth Flight purred. It felt good to be home and Wind Runner was pleased to see her. The warmth in her mother’s mew reassured her that, from now on, everything was going to be fine.

Moth Flight rolled a wad of borage leaves into a bundle and slotted them into a small gap in the gorse at the back of her den.

She relished the coolness here. Outside, early greenleaf sunshine was scorching the camp.

The scent of herbs washed over her and she thanked StarClan that she’d stopped feeling queasy. The kits were due any day and her belly was so swollen that she felt as clumsy as a toad. She sat back on her haunches and looked approvingly at the array of herbs poking out from between the branches.

“We’ve done well.” She blinked at Reed Tail.

The silver tabby tom sat down and tucked his tail over his herb-stained paws. “You’ve taught me so much.”