Moth Flight's Vision Page 4

  “Dust Muzzle caught one a few days ago,” Moth Flight mumbled miserably.

  “Dust Muzzle’s had more practice than you,” Gorse Fur reassured her.

  I’m so sorry. Moth Flight knew that Gorse Fur must feel as disappointed in her as Wind Runner, despite his kind words. She shook out her fur and looked at him as brightly as she could manage. “I’ll get better, I promise.”

  He purred. “Of course you will.”

  She glanced toward Wind Runner, but her mother was crouching beside a burrow entrance, her ears pricked and her gaze fixed on the dark opening.

  Gorse Fur followed her gaze. “I’d better go and help,” he meowed. “Why don’t you join me?” He glanced from Moth Flight to Dust Muzzle, but Dust Muzzle’s attention was fixed on the grassy slope. His ears were pricked and he opened his mouth as though tasting for prey.

  “I’ll be back after I’ve caught that vole,” he whispered, heading downslope. He crossed the grass, his paw steps silent, his tail still.

  Gorse Fur nudged Moth Flight toward the rabbit burrows. “If you see a rabbit running, do you remember what to do?”

  Moth Flight frowned. “Chase it?” she offered hopefully.

  Gorse Fur’s ear twitched. “Head where it’s looking and cut off its escape route. Outrunning a rabbit is hard. Outthinking it is easy.”

  He quickened his pace, breaking into a trot. Moth Flight followed slowly, sighing as her father caught up with Wind Runner. The Clan leader beckoned her mate on with a flick of her muzzle and he raced away to another hole farther along the rise.

  Moth Flight wound her way around the burrows dotting the rise. She wanted to keep her distance from Wind Runner. If her mother managed to flush out a young rabbit, she didn’t want to scare it down another hole.

  The sun was touching Highstones, turning the peaks orange. Moth Flight shivered as the evening chill reached through her fur. She remembered her dream. It had been so vivid it was hard to believe that she hadn’t actually been there while the blue-gray cat died beside her friends. But she didn’t die! Moth Flight frowned. She came back to life . . . after she looked so lifeless. She remembered the fear in the eyes of the flame-pelted tom and the dark, unreadable gaze of the tabby. She could almost believe that these cats were real, not just figments of her imagination. When the blue-gray cat had suddenly twitched after such stillness, none of the cats had seemed shocked—only relieved. It was as if they knew it would happen!

  “Moth Flight!”

  Wind Runner’s cry sounded at the edge of her thoughts, no more than the rushing of the wind. She hardly heard her mother. Her thoughts were filled with her dream. The blood on the blue-gray cat’s fur had spread so quickly through her matted pelt. How could any cat have survived such a wound?

  “Moth Flight!” Wind Runner’s angry yowl pierced her ear fur. A rabbit pelted past her, then her mother’s pelt flashed at the edge of her vision and she heard grass tear beneath skidding claws as Wind Runner slowed to a halt a tail-length away. The rabbit veered downslope, easily avoiding Gorse Fur, who was crouched beyond the rise, and darted down a hole.

  “You birdbrain!” Wind Runner turned on Moth Flight, her mew hot with rage. She seemed to be swallowing back a snarl. “If you weren’t going to catch it, you should have gotten out of my way so I could have driven it into Gorse Fur’s paws!”

  Moth Flight stared at her, stricken with horror. I’ve done it again! Panic flashed through her. Why do I always get it wrong? “I’m so sorry!”

  Wind Runner seemed to be trying to stop herself from shaking as she glared at her daughter. “You were supposed to be helping,” she meowed slowly, her words clipped.

  “I know.” Moth Flight stared dejectedly at her paws. “I was just remembering a dream I had. It was so vivid, I sort of . . .” She searched for words, knowing that no matter what she said, her mother wouldn’t understand. “. . . I sort of got lost in it.”

  Gorse Fur galloped toward them. “Moth Flight.” There was more pity than anger in his mew. “You need to try to pay attention.”

  “How many times do I have to remind you?” As Wind Runner started another lecture, Moth Flight’s shoulders sank. “A hungry clan is a vulnerable clan. With empty bellies, we are prey to disease and attacks from rogues. What if a dog is loose on the moor? Our cats need the strength to outrun it.”

  Moth Flight lifted her head to meet her mother’s gaze. “I’m sorr—” She stopped, her breath catching in her throat. Wide, green wings were fluttering a tail-length away.

  The moth!

  There it was! Dancing over the grass, whipped one way then the other by the buffeting wind. Just like the one in my dream! Moth Flight’s heart soared. Suddenly she was swamped by the same longing to follow the beautiful moth that had filled her dream. Her paws itched to run after it. I have to catch up with it! With a purr of delight, she pelted after it.

  “Moth Flight!”

  She hardly heard her mother’s yowl. Wind rushed past her ears as she chased the moth across the grass.

  CHAPTER 4

  Moth Flight ran. She could hear Wind Runner and Gorse Fur calling, but her eyes were fixed on the moth’s great, green wings. She had to chase it. The moth wanted to show her something. She just knew it!

  The ground sloped steeply beneath her paws and she skidded, straining to keep her balance as she bounded down the hillside where the moor dropped into the valley.

  The sun, burning orange on the peaks of Highstones, made a halo around the moth, illuminating its great wings as it fluttered above the ground.

  The coarse grass of the moor turned soft as it dipped toward the valley, growing lush as the land flattened. Suddenly Moth Flight felt hard stone beneath her paws; the stench of the Thunderpath touched her nose. She paused, wary.

  The moth paused too, wheeling in the air and flying back toward her. It swooped above her head.

  It’s beckoning to me! She knew the moth wanted her to keep following.

  “I’m coming!”

  The moth began to head away, moving toward fields beyond the Thunderpath. A breeze lifted it, swirling it sideways.

  Moth Flight leaped, paws outstretched, hoping to touch its soft wings.

  As she arched her back, straining to reach it, hard muscle slammed into her flank and knocked her rolling across the black stone of the Thunderpath.

  Surprise flared through her as she tumbled onto the grass verge on the far side. A roar exploded in her ears and wind tore at her fur. The foul stench of a monster swept over her, burning her throat, as grit pelted her flank. Wailing in terror, she screwed up her eyes and flinched from the stinging shower.

  “Moth Flight!” Gorse Fur’s voice sounded in her ear as the monster’s roar faded.

  She scrambled to her paws, blinking open her eyes.

  Gorse Fur stood beside her, his gaze almost black with shock. “You could have been killed!”

  She stared at him, numb.

  “You were standing in the middle of the Thunderpath!” Fury flared in Gorse Fur’s eyes. “Didn’t you hear the monster coming?”

  Moth Flight blinked at him, struggling to make sense of what had happened. “I was chasing the moth.” Hadn’t he seen it? She turned her head, scanning the hedge beside them. Where had it gone?

  Paws thudded over the Thunderpath. Moth Flight glimpsed her mother and Dust Muzzle racing toward them.

  “You rabbit-brained fool!” Wind Runner scrambled to a halt, bristling with rage.

  Dust Muzzle’s eyes glittered with horror. “If Gorse Fur hadn’t knocked you out of the way—”

  Wind Runner didn’t let him finish. “You could have both been killed!”

  Moth Flight saw fear in her mother’s gaze. She stiffened, cold dread rippling beneath her pelt. She had never seen her mother frightened before.

  “Are you hurt?” Dust Muzzle leaned forward, sniffing at Moth Flight’s pelt. The young tom’s gaze flicked toward Gorse Fur. “Are you both okay?”

  Gorse Fur blinked reas
suringly. “We’re fine,” he promised.

  Wind Runner’s gaze burned into Moth Flight’s. “No thanks to you!”

  Moth Flight backed away, suddenly scared. “I’m sorry.” She began to tremble. Gorse Fur and I both could have died! And it was my fault!

  The ground swayed beneath her paws.

  “You’ve always been irresponsible!” Wind Runner’s sharp words cut through her jumbled thoughts. “Losing Slate’s kits, getting lost collecting plants when you should have been hunting. We’re used to that. But you’ve never been this reckless! You’re not just a danger to yourself! You’re a danger to your Clan!”

  “I’m s-sorry.” Guilt welled inside Moth Flight, rising in her throat until she could hardly speak.

  “You’ve worn that word out today!” Every hair on Wind Runner’s pelt stood on end. “Sorry doesn’t bring back cats from the dead! WindClan would be better off without you!”

  Moth Flight hardly heard Dust Muzzle’s gasp or the gentle words of Gorse Fur as he tried to calm his mate.

  “No one was actually hurt,” he soothed.

  Moth Flight’s heart seemed to crack in her chest. Wind Runner is right. She was a danger to her Clan. What if Silver Stripe had been killed by a badger? Or Black Ear carried away by a buzzard? What if Gorse Fur had been killed by a monster as he tried to save me?

  As she backed away, her vision blurred. What have I done? She stared at her family, her chest too tight to breathe.

  “Where are you going?” Wind Runner yowled.

  “I need time to think,” Moth Flight struggled to speak. “I need to be by myself for a while.” Unsteadily, she turned and headed for the hedge beyond the grass verge.

  Gorse Fur’s mew rang behind her. “You can’t just go off by yourself!”

  “Don’t try and stop me!” she wailed. She slid beneath the hedge and began running. Shallow ridges of soil stretched before her and she raced over them, her paws slipping into the furrows and tripping over ridges. But she had to keep going. She had to get away!

  “Come back!” Wind Runner’s call echoed from beyond the hedge. “Sulking won’t help!”

  I’m not sulking! Moth Flight’s thoughts whirled as grief stormed inside her. But you’re right! I am a danger to my Clan.

  I don’t deserve to be with you.

  CHAPTER 5

  Moth Flight raced blindly across the field until golden branches loomed ahead, forcing her to a stop. She pulled up, heart lurching, her paws sinking into the soft soil. A beech hedge blocked her way. She glanced back across the ridged earth. No one had followed. Good! Her throat tightened. Are they relieved I’ve left?

  She gazed bleakly around. Beyond the hedge top, rooks whirled like dark leaves around the canopy of a large elm. They shouted at one another while a monster howled along the Thunderpath behind and, somewhere far away, dogs barked.

  Moth Flight shivered. A cold wind was tugging at her pelt. Down here, in the valley, shadow swathed the fields. The sun was hidden by Highstones now, but its rays still bathed the moortop in soft orange light. Slinking beneath the beech hedge, she pressed her belly to the earth and tucked her nose between her paws.

  What now?

  She was of no use to her Clan. And the moth had disappeared. As she’d chased it, she had been so sure she’d been heading the right way. Now she didn’t know where to go. The beech leaves rattled around her and she drew her paws in tighter.

  Her belly growled. She hadn’t eaten all day and even her misery couldn’t hide her hunger.

  I should hunt.

  She lifted her head and gazed halfheartedly through the shadows, hoping to spot a mouse scuttling among the roots.

  Only the leaves stirred. She peered from under the branches at the field. Birds swooped across the furrows, trawling for insects, before swooping out of reach. Moth Flight’s tail drooped. Wind Runner would catch one easily. She’d crouch in a dip, invisible against the earth, and hook one as it dived. But not me. Even if she was any good at hunting, Moth Flight knew her white pelt would give her away.

  Wind ruffled the surface of a puddle a few tail-lengths away. At least she could drink. Moth Flight slid out from beneath the hedge and padded toward it. As she neared, movement caught her eye. A dark brown toad was slithering along the edge.

  Could I eat a toad? Moth Flight frowned. She knew RiverClan cats ate frogs. And ShadowClan boasted of eating lizards. At least it’ll be easy to catch. The toad hopped clumsily and landed with a thump on the side of a furrow, its hind legs flapping as it tried to find its feet. Moth Flight dropped into a hunting crouch and waited for it to jump again.

  As it leaped, she lunged toward it, flinging out her forepaws and knocking it to the ground. It fell onto its back, showing a pale belly. Moth Flight screwed up her face and ducked to give a killing bite.

  Its flesh was squidgy between her teeth and she shuddered as she crunched through its spine. As it twitched and fell limp, Moth Flight felt relieved. Its blood wasn’t as sweet as rabbit blood, but at least it didn’t taste like pond water.

  Grasping her catch between her jaws, she carried it back to the hedge and squeezed into the shadows once more.

  Hungry and cold, she began to eat, queasy as she tore at the toad’s flabby flank. Perhaps the legs are meatier. She gnawed at one, trying to ignore the muddy taste of the creature’s flesh. Once she’d swallowed a few mouthfuls, her aching hunger eased, and she pushed the toad away. She imagined Wind Runner telling her not to be wasteful and that hungry bellies couldn’t be choosy. But Wind Runner wasn’t here. I can do what I like.

  Her heart quickened. Am I really going to stay out here all night? She’d never slept away from her Clan. She was used to Dust Muzzle’s pelt pressed against hers and the sound of her Clanmates snoring. She suddenly realized how safe she’d always felt in camp.

  Nervously, she peered from the hedge. The afternoon shadow had turned to night. The birds had stopped swooping. The rooks had stilled and grown quiet. Moth Flight blinked up at the sky, where stars were beginning to show. She glanced toward the puddle, hoping to see their reflection sparkle like familiar friends in the muddy water.

  Something moved in the field.

  Moth Flight tensed. A shape was creeping along the hedge toward her. Its dark shadow rippled across the leaves, making them rustle as it passed.

  A fox? The creature was skulking low to the ground. She opened her mouth to taste the air, but toad stench still soured her tongue. Belly tightening, she backed deeper into the hedge, hoping it wouldn’t see her. The creature had stopped and was sniffing the furrows. It paused and lifted its head. Moth Flight froze as its eyes flashed toward her. As it darted forward, she unsheathed her claws. Bracing her hind paws against a root, she prepared to defend herself.

  Blood roared in her ears as the creature neared. She could hear its paws thrumming the earth. Its gaze darted this way and that, as though it was scanning the hedgerow.

  It knows I’m here. Panic flared through her. Should I run away?

  “Moth Flight!”

  Moth Flight blinked in surprise. The creature was calling her name. And she recognized the mew!

  “Spotted Fur?” Relief swamped her as she made out the familiar shape of his shoulders. His dappled, golden pelt was pale in the moonlight.

  “I’ve found you!” He pulled up beside the hedge. “What are you doing in there? Are you okay? You smell scared.”

  “I’m fine.” Moth Flight ducked out, limp with gratitude. Heather scent pulsed from Spotted Fur’s pelt, smelling of their home. “I thought you were a fox!”

  “What if I had been?” His eyes darkened with worry.

  “You weren’t.” Moth Flight flicked her ear. She didn’t want to think about the answer.

  “Dust Muzzle said you’d run off.”

  “I did.”

  “Well, you can’t stay out here all night just because you had an argument with Wind Runner. Let’s get you home.”

  Moth Flight stared at him. Hadn’t Dus
t Muzzle explained? “I’m not going home. I’m a danger to my Clan.”

  Spotted Fur swished his tail. “Don’t be silly. You’re not a danger to any cat. Wind Runner’s upset, but it’ll all be forgotten by the morning.”

  Moth Flight dug her claws into the earth. “She said the Clan would be better off without me, and she’s right. I’m not coming home.”

  “You can’t stay here!” Spotted Fur stared at her. “It’s not safe. Besides, you must be starving.”

  Moth Flight lifted her muzzle indignantly. “I caught a toad.” She reached under the hedge and hauled it out.

  Spotted Fur backed away, screwing up his muzzle. “You can’t eat that!”

  “I already have,” Moth Flight told him proudly. “You see? I ate some of its leg. You think I can’t look after myself, but I can!”

  Spotted Fur’s gaze softened. “Oh, Moth Flight. Of course you can.” He leaned forward to brush his cheek against hers but she flinched away.

  “Don’t treat me like a kit!” She’d heard him talk to Black Ear in the same tone earlier. “I’m not going home!”

  Spotted Fur sat down. “Well, in that case, we’d better make a nest for the night.”

  “You’re staying with me?” Moth Flight shifted her paws uneasily. She was desperate to prove she could look after herself. But it would feel safer to have Spotted Fur sleeping beside her.

  “I’m not leaving you out here by yourself,” he answered. “Besides, you’ll have changed your mind by the morning. After a good night’s rest, you’ll be ready to go home.”

  No I won’t. But Moth Flight bit back her answer, frightened that he might be right.

  Spotted Fur nodded toward the dead beech leaves lying in drifts along the hedge. “Why don’t we push some of those underneath the hedge to make a nest?”

  “Let’s dig a hollow first,” Moth Flight suggested. “It’ll be warmer.”

  “Good idea.” Spotted Fur sniffed beneath the branches, then began scraping among the roots with his forepaws.

  Moth Flight pushed in beside him and helped. Before long they’d dug a shallow dip between two gnarled roots. Spotted Fur fetched pawfuls of leaves and Moth Flight patted them into a soft, if slightly crunchy, lining for their nest.