Moth Flight’s Vision

Flight was startled to see the tough Clan leader sway on his paws. Star Flower rocked beside him, her nose buried deep in his pelt.

Their Clanmates began to move around them. Blossom tugged a clump of damp moss from between the roots of a tree and carried it to Tiny Branch’s body. Gently she began to wipe the blood from his fur. Thorn and Quick Water pressed against

Star Flower, supporting her as Clear Sky stepped away and crouched beside their dead kit. He rested his nose softly on the kit’s head. “I should have been there, my son. I should have saved you.”

Moth Flight glanced at Acorn Fur.

The SkyClan medicine cat was staring bleakly at her leader.

Moth Flight got to her paws and pressed her nose to the brown she-cat’s cheek. “I don’t think any of us could have saved him,” she murmured.

“If only I’d had more cobwebs in my den,” she mewed thickly.

Pebble Heart straightened. “It would have taken more than cobwebs.”

“He’s with StarClan now,” Dappled Pelt gazed sympathetically at Acorn Fur. “You did all you could.”

The tugging in Moth Flight’s belly grew stronger. “I have to see my kits.” Guilt flashed through her as Clear Sky jerked up his nose and stared at her. “I’m sorry—” She began to apologize, but he cut her off.

“Go to them,” he growled hoarsely.

She backed toward the entrance, grief tearing at her heart. “I wish we could have come straight away.”

Clear Sky’s gaze hardened. “Why didn’t you?”

Moth Flight froze. She felt the anxious gazes of the other medicine cats flashed toward her.

Sparrow Fur stepped forward. “Wind Runner didn’t want her to come,” she mumbled. “She said that SkyClan was on its own.”

Clear Sky straightened, the muscles in his broad shoulders rippling.

Star Flower padded forward shakily. “She was going to let a kit die?”

“It’s not that simple.” Fear flashed through Moth Flight. She only wanted peace. “You need to speak with Wind Runner.”

Star Flower’s green eyes brimmed with pain. She turned away.

Clear Sky blinked at Moth Flight. “You should go,” he growled. “Your kits need you.”

Her heart pounding, Moth Flight turned and raced out of camp. The scent of Tiny Branch’s blood lingered on her tongue.

My kits! She had to know they were safe. She hared through the forest, her paws skidding on fallen leaves as she swerved among the brambles and ferns. She broke from the forest and pelted onto the moor. She needed to smell her kits and feel their warmth against her muzzle. Her gaze fixed on the distant hollow, she pushed against the coarse grass, racing breathlessly upslope. Bursting into camp, she bounded over the moonlit tussocks and ducked into her den.

Rocky lifted his head sleepily and blinked at her. The kits were curled against his belly. “I told you I’d have them tucked up by the time you got home.”

Peace enfolded Moth Flight as she gazed at her beautiful kits. Spider Paw stirred in his sleep, stretching a paw to rest it on Bubbling Stream’s muzzle. Bubbling Stream pushed it off and rolled over, a tiny whimper escaping as she snuggled against Blue Whisker’s pelt.

Moth Flight padded closer, breathing in their milky scent.

She closed her eyes and lifted her muzzle. Thank you, StarClan, for keeping them safe.

Chapter 29

“Slate!” Moth Flight called across the clearing. “Will you keep an eye on my kits while I check on Rocky?”

Honey Pelt slid under her belly. “We don’t need anyone to watch us! We’re nearly two moons old.”

Moth Flight smoothed his ruffled fur, sweeping her tail along his spine. “I just want to know someone’s looking out for you.”

Spider Paw sniffed. “What can happen to us in camp?”

Bubbling Stream was rolling in the sun-warmed earth of the sandy hollow, like a sparrow taking a dust bath. Blue Whisker watched her from the edge, her pelt pricking as though the thought of getting dusty horrified her.

Slate looked up blearily from where she’d been dozing in the early morning sunshine. “I’m coming.” She got stiffly to her paws.

Moth Flight guessed that last night’s Gathering had left the she-cat sleepy. Her thick, gray fur looked matted, as though she hadn’t even washed. Moth Flight felt a flash of guilt. Perhaps she should let Slate rest. But Rocky had come to her den, just as Spotted Fur and Reed Tail were leaving for the dawn patrol.

He’d been awake all night with aching joints. She had to help him.

She glanced at Honey Pelt, her heart pricking as she remembered Tiny Branch. She wanted to gather her kits to her belly—as she had when they were newly born—and keep them safely wrapped against her. But they were growing. They wanted to run and explore.

Rocky needs me more right now.