Moth Flight’s Vision

She glanced back at the kits. They were playing happily with their Clanmates, Slate watching them fondly. “It looks like there are plenty of cats to take care of them while you’re busy.”

Worry jabbed Moth Flight’s belly. “I need to take care of them. They don’t have a father.”

Acorn Fur shifted her paws before she spoke. “Micah wants you to train me.”

Surprise rippled along Moth Flight’s spine. Someone is coming to visit you. Micah’s words echoed in her mind. You must help her. I’m depending on you. He’d meant Acorn Fur!

“How do you know?” she demanded.

“I dreamed about him,” Acorn Fur told her. “He told me to come to you and that you would teach me all I needed to learn.”

Moth Flight blinked at her. Acorn Fur must be SkyClan’s rightful medicine cat if StarClan visited her dreams. “But what about Wind Runner and Clear Sky? Will they want a WindClan cat training a SkyClan cat?”

Acorn Fur shrugged. “They don’t need to know.”

Dappled Pelt nodded. “They don’t understand the bond between us. They are hunters, not healers. They only understand prey.”

Moth Flight dipped her head. Micah wanted her to train Acorn Fur, and he was part of StarClan now. She couldn’t go against StarClan’s wishes. And she didn’t want to disappoint Micah. “Okay.” She glanced longingly at her kits. Blue Whisker had returned to Slate’s side and curled up against her. Bubbling Stream had slid off Storm Pelt’s back and was helping Spider Paw catch imaginary prey in the sandy hollow. Honey Pelt was chasing White Tail toward another gap in the heather wall. They could manage without her for a while. “We might as well start now.”

“Where have you been?”

Wind Runner’s accusing mew took Moth Flight by surprise as she padded into camp. The sun was sinking toward the horizon and shooting long shadows across the clearing.

Moth Flight dropped the bundle of comfrey she’d gathered.

“Training Acorn Fur.” I’m not going to lie about it.

“Why you?” Wind Runner’s hackles lifted. “Surely you understand that SkyClan cats are no longer our friends.”

“Why not?” Moth Flight demanded.

“They’ve been stealing our prey.” Wind Runner narrowed her eyes. “And I’m sending patrols across their border to hunt.”

“What?” Moth Flight stared at her. Did her mother want to cause a war?

Wind Runner lifted her chin stiffly. “It’s important that we show them they can’t steal from us without consequences.”

“Has anyone actually seen SkyClan stealing our prey?”

Moth Flight demanded.

“Willow Tail says she saw Red Claw carrying a rabbit over the border yesterday.”

“And you believe her?” How could her mother be so naive?

“Willow Tail hates Red Claw.”

“That doesn’t make her a liar!” Wind Runner lashed her tail.

“It’s not just Willow Tail who’s seen evidence. Fern Leaf caught

Red Claw’s scent on our territory. Slate and Jagged Peak have seen bones too. Are they liars?”

Of course not. But even if SkyClan cats caught a rabbit or two on WindClan territory—who cared? Still, Moth Flight swallowed back anger. She didn’t want to get drawn into her mother’s argument with SkyClan. Her duty was to heal cats, not fight with them. “I’m going to teach Acorn Fur what I know,” she mewed stubbornly.

Wind Runner’s pelt prickled. “I’m just worried about you, Moth Flight. If Clear Sky catches you with one of his cats, who knows what he’ll do? I’ve known him a long time. He’s capable of more cruelty than you can imagine.”

“Then it’s important that his medicine cat is well trained,” Moth Flight argued. “If she can earn his respect, she may be able to guide him.”

“No one has ever managed to guide Clear Sky before,” Wind Runner pointed out.

“Acorn Fur has StarClan on her side. They want me to train her.”

“They spoke to you?”

“Micah did,” Moth Flight told her. “He spoke to Acorn Fur too.”

“Micah’s not StarClan!”

Moth Flight’s throat tightened. “He is now.”

Wind Runner gazed at her helplessly. “Then you’re going to keep on training her?”

“Yes.” Moth Flight scooped up the comfrey and headed for her den. If Micah wanted her to train Acorn Fur, then nothing would stop her.

As the days lengthened, Moth Flight kept her word. Each afternoon, she’d leave Slate in charge of her kits and slip out of camp. She was aware of Wind Runner’s gaze following her, dark with worry. But she ignored it, racing to the patch of grass on the moorside where she met Acorn Fur.

This afternoon, clouds hid the sun and a thin drizzle misted the moor. Moth Flight fluffed out her pelt, hoping Slate would keep the kits in the den. The air was warm, but a wet pelt could mean a chill. She was getting used to being away from them, but she enjoyed their welcome each time she returned home, when they’d clamber over her, purring and begging for badger rides or a game of chase-tail.

She blinked away raindrops and scanned the moorside.