Moth Flight's Vision

by Erin Hunter

  “I’m hungry,” Spotted Fur mewed when they’d finished. He sat down in the nest and sniffed the air. “Have you seen any mice?”

  “If I had, do you think I’d be eating a toad?” Moth Flight sat beside him, the leaves crunching beneath her. His pelt felt warm against hers.

  Spotted Fur purred. “I could go and hunt.”

  “There might be dogs around. I heard them barking earlier,” Moth Flight warned. She didn’t want to be left alone in the dark. Suddenly, she wondered how she could ever have thought of sleeping out here by herself.

  Spotted Fur gazed at her fondly. “Okay.” He dipped his head. “I’ll eat your stinky toad.”

  “The legs aren’t that bad.” Moth Flight reached out and, hooking the toad with a claw, dragged it into the nest. She dropped it at Spotted Fur’s paws.

  “You haven’t eaten much of it,” he commented.

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “Have some with me now,” he urged. “It’ll be a cold night and a full belly will keep you warm.”

  The toad didn’t taste so bad when she was sharing it, but it still wasn’t as good as rabbit.

  Moth Flight purred as Spotted Fur screwed up his face. “RiverClan cats eat frogs all the time,” she reminded him.

  “RiverClan cats swim too,” Spotted Fur answered, chewing. “That doesn’t mean we should go throw ourselves into the river.”

  They ate as much as they could and kicked the remains out of the nest. “You never know—” Spotted Fur stopped to stifle a yawn. “A bird might come pecking around it in the morning. Then I can catch a decent meal.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Moth Flight lied defensively. Why did he have to act as though he was better than she was? Crossly, she curled down into the nest, snuggling as deep into the leaves as she could, and closed her eyes. Spotted Fur’s rough tongue lapped her ear.

  “I know you’ve had a hard day,” he murmured. “But we were all really worried about you. The others will be so relieved to see you tomorrow.”

  “Even Wind Runner?” Moth Flight kept her eyes closed.

  Spotted Fur touched his muzzle to her head. “Especially Wind Runner.”

  Her heart swelled and she lifted her head, blinking at him gratefully. He was such a kind friend. She should go home in the morning. She’d been a rabbit-brain to stay out here by herself. She felt him settle beside her, and relished the warmth of his pelt against hers. How could I live without my Clan? I just need to try harder. She ignored the unease tugging in her belly. If I just practice my hunting and concentrate more on what I’m doing . . . Letting tiredness sweep over her, she slid into sleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  Moth Flight opened her eyes, stiffening as darkness pressed around her. It wasn’t the glittering darkness of a starlit night, but a stifling gloom. The air smelled dank, sharp with the mineral taste of stone. She blinked, surprised to find herself standing, cold rock beneath her paws.

  Where am I? Where’s Spotted Fur?

  She glanced around, looking for her Clanmate and wondering what had happened to the beech hedge. All she could make out in the shadows was stone. Above her, a small opening let starlight filter in. It pooled on a large rock jutting from the floor.

  I’m in a cave! With a start, she realized that she was dreaming. But it feels so real! The cold stone made her paws ache. The damp air chilled her pelt. Moth Flight shivered as she gazed at the rock, looming at the center of the cave. Padding forward, she sniffed it. Her whiskers tingled and her heart quickened. What is this place? Something about the stone seemed to carry the promise of a coming storm, thickening the air around it so that Moth Flight expected, any moment, to feel the cave shudder with thunder.

  Someone’s coming!

  Her ears twitched as she heard the sound of paw steps echoing toward her. She turned and saw a dark shadow on the side of the cave. A tunnel! Two cats emerged, their fur pale as weak starlight lit their pelts.

  Moth Flight could make out the shapes of a gray tom and a long-furred she-cat. I know her! Her heart leaped as she recognized the cat she’d watched struggle back from the brink of death. She darted forward, excited to see the she-cat healthy and strong. Her thick fur looked well-groomed; her eyes shone brightly in the half-light. She looks younger! Moth Flight tipped her head, confused.

  Why was she dreaming about the same cat? And why did it feel vivid enough to be real?

  “Who are you?” Her mew echoed across the cave, but the cats didn’t seem to hear. Their gaze was fixed on the great rock as they padded toward it, the gray she-cat slowing as she approached.

  “Please talk to me!” Moth Flight hurried to their side, reaching out a paw to touch the gray she-cat. But, as in her last dream, her paw passed through the other cat as though she were mist.

  The tom’s mouth moved. The gray she-cat dragged her gaze from the rock and nodded.

  Why can’t I hear them? Moth Flight burned with frustration.

  Unease seemed to glitter in the she-cat’s gaze as she approached the rock and lay down before it. She glanced up and Moth Flight followed her gaze.

  Through the hole in the roof, she could see the moon rising. Delight fizzed through Moth Flight’s pelt as its rays turned the stone silver. It’s so beautiful here!

  The she-cat closed her eyes.

  Moth Flight leaned closer. What now?

  Suddenly, the cave exploded with light—a flash more blinding than lightning. Moth Flight’s eyes—stretched wide for the darkness—burned. She screwed them shut, shaking. Then, slowly she opened them to narrow slits.

  Through the glare, she saw the gray she-cat reach forward and touch her nose to the glittering stone.

  What’s happening? Moth Flight leaned forward, desperate to understand. Curiosity seared through her pelt. The gray she-cat grew as still as the rock itself. A tail-length away, the tom had curled on the floor, his eyes closed.

  Moth Flight padded around the gray-she cat, her belly fluttering with excitement. Then pelts moved around her. Moth Flight gasped. The cave was suddenly filled with cats.

  Where had they come from?

  She blinked in shock as she realized their pelts were translucent and shimmered as though water rippled through their fur, reflecting starlight.

  Spirit-cats! Moth Flight had heard tales of ghostly ancestors appearing at Fourtrees after the great battle. They had shared tongues with the Clan leaders and brought peace to the warring cats. They had appeared in the moons since, but she had never seen them herself.

  She stiffened. If they were ancestors, Gray Wing might be among them. Eagerly, she scanned the starry pelts. There was no sign of him.

  A great tom padded to the gray she-cat’s side. Leaning down, he touched his nose to the top of her head.

  The she-cat flinched as though pain flared through her, but she did not move from her spot, or open her eyes. The tom’s mouth moved as he spoke but Moth Flight couldn’t make out the words. Then he backed away and the gray-she cat grew limp once more.

  With a rush of hope, Moth Flight wondered if the spirit-cat could see her. The dead could speak to the living, after all. Why shouldn’t they be able to see a dream-cat? She lifted her chin challengingly. “What’s happening? Why are you here?” Her mew hung in the air. No echo rang from the walls. No cat looked at her.

  Disappointed, she weaved among them, longing to feel their pelts brush hers. But it was like she wasn’t there!

  A small brown tom padded forward, his sparkling pelt camouflaged against the shimmering of the stone as he stopped beside the gray she-cat. He touched his nose to the she-cat’s head, and once more she flinched violently.

  Moth Flight gazed sadly at the ranks of starry cats. “I wish you could hear me.” Suddenly she felt very alone and small. For a moment she wanted to escape this dream and return to her warm nest beside Spotted Fur. Then a familiar color flashed at the edge of the cave. The pale green of the moth’s wings fluttered beyond the starry cats. It was hovering at the tunnel entrance,
where the gray tom and she-cat had entered.

  Moth Flight’s breath caught in her throat. She knew she must follow it. Passing through the circle of starry cats, she hurried into the darkness beyond.

  The smell of damp leaves filled her nose. As her eyes blinked open, she heard Spotted Fur’s gentle snoring. Disappointment dropped like a stone in her chest. I’m awake! She was back in her nest, lying beside Spotted Fur. The beech leaves rattled overhead. An owl called from close by. Moth Flight lifted her nose from her paws and peeked out across the moonlit field. Frost sparkled on the furrows. Where is my moth now? With a flash of understanding, Moth Flight knew. It’s waiting to lead me! But where? And when? Why did it always seem to disappear just as she was starting to follow it?

  Determination hardened in Moth Flight’s belly. This isn’t supposed to be easy. It doesn’t want me to give up! She stood up and slid from beneath the hedge, fluffing her fur against the cold. Dawn was lighting the sky beyond the looming moortop. Spotted Fur would be awake soon. There was no time to waste.

  How could she even think of returning to her Clan now? Perhaps she was being foolish; perhaps she was wrong; perhaps the moth was nothing but a dream. But if Moth Flight went home now, she’d never stop wondering whether something important was waiting for her far from home.

  I can’t leave Spotted Fur without telling him. If she was going to send him home without her, he had a right to know why. She dropped onto her belly and leaned into the nest, the warm smell of him filling her nose. Her heart ached. She was going to miss her Clan. But she had to follow her heart. Stretching forward a paw, she prodded Spotted Fur.

  Grunting, he lifted his head.

  “I have to go,” Moth Flight whispered.

  Struggling to open his eyes, he peered at her blearily.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I know it seems crazy but I know that there’s something I need to do. I can’t go home until I’ve done it. And if I don’t leave now, I may never have the chance again.”

  Spotted Fur licked his lips, as though he was still lost in a dream. “No more toads,” he mumbled, his eyes slipping shut. With a sigh, he rested his nose back onto his paws.

  Moth Flight gazed at him, wondering if he’d even heard her. She leaned forward and touched her nose to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Spotted Fur,” she repeated. Guilt pricked her heart as she wriggled backward, out of the hedge. “Good-bye. I hope we’ll see each other again.” She straightened, shaking leaf dust from her pelt. Glancing across the field, she wondered which way to head.

  The moor lay behind her, Highstones ahead. Lifting her tail she padded forward, following the hedgerow until it turned, and then squeezed under it onto a dirt track beyond. A ditch ran beside the track, water swirling along the bottom. Moth Flight jumped into it, flinching as the cold water swallowed her paws. Then she waded downstream, pleased that the narrow brook would wash away all scent of her. Spotted Fur wouldn’t be able to follow her trail. Whatever she was supposed to do, she knew that she must do it alone.

  CHAPTER 7

  When she felt sure that she’d disguised her trail completely, Moth Flight hopped out of the ditch, shaking water from her paws, and followed the dirt track. It turned suddenly, rising toward a Twoleg nest. Moth Flight halted. She didn’t want to stray close to Twolegs. They were unpredictable and kept dogs. Instead, she nosed her way through a patch of bracken and found herself in an overgrown meadow.

  Pushing through the long grass, she paused to sniff the stems, excited by how many unfamiliar plants grew here. There were flowers budding, and soft grass, rising taller than her tail. It was so different from the moor, where the weather scoured the landscape so that only the toughest plants could survive and the few that did seemed to cling to the earth, keeping low for fear of being torn away by the relentless wind.

  Here, plants grew fearlessly, as if they had no memory of cruel weather. Moth Flight’s nose filled with their pungent scent until she felt dizzy. She followed the valley, Highstones rising in the distance on one side, the moor looming on the other. Until she knew where she was meant to be going, she wanted both to be close.

  What if her journey lay beyond the valley? Past Highstones? Out of sight of the moor? Her belly tightened at the thought. It felt strange enough to be so far from her Clan, and heading away from Spotted Fur. As the sun rose and began to cross the wide, blue newleaf sky, she found herself slowing, unsure of her next paw steps. Perhaps this was where the moth had wanted to lead her; perhaps it had only wanted to show her the rich foliage growing so close to her home.

  Her belly growled and she realized how hungry she was. And thirsty. She licked her lips, tasting the air for water. If she could find another dirt track, there might be a ditch beside it. If she were lucky it would provide water and perhaps a vole. Or a toad, at least. She shuddered.

  Pushing through a hedge, she found herself at the edge of a wide field. The grass here was short. Sheep grazed, eyes blank, clumped in small groups like clouds dotting a green sky. A few tail-lengths away, where the hedge gave way to fence, water pooled in muddy dips where monsters had left paw marks.

  Ears pricked warily, Moth Flight padded toward the puddles and crouched beside the nearest one. She lapped the brown water, trying to ignore the bitter taste. She heard hooves pattering across the grass and looked up to see sheep moving toward her. Unsure of them, she backed away. They ambled aimlessly, their attention fixed on the grass, buffeting each other clumsily. Such dumb animals might trample her without even noticing. She headed around them, keeping a safe distance, her nose twitching at the warm, sour smell of them.

  Suddenly movement flashed at the corner of her eye. A small brown shape was darting through the grass.

  Mouse!

  Heart leaping, Moth Flight dropped into a crouch.

  The mouse was scampering toward the hedge, its nose twitching nervously.

  Prey will smell you before they see you, so keep the wind behind you. Moth Flight remembered one of Gorse Fur’s lessons and lifted her tail, letting the breeze stream through it. She was in luck; the mouse was upwind. It would never smell her. All she needed to do was creep up on it without it hearing her.

  Treading delicately, she pulled herself over the grass. She made sure that her tail didn’t brush against the grass, grateful for Gorse Fur’s training and surprised that she suddenly remembered so much of it. Why couldn’t she remember it when she was trying to impress Wind Runner?

  The mouse was moving fast, its gaze fixed on the hedge. If she wanted to catch it before it found the safety of the shadows, she would have to run. Holding her breath, Moth Flight quickened her pace, trying to keep her paw steps as light as feathers falling. With any luck, the pattering of the sheep’s hooves a few tail-lengths away would disguise any noise she made.

  The mouse kept running, but she was almost close enough to pounce. Her chest tightened with excitement. Keep your eyes on it, she reminded herself as she stiffened for her leap. She had to land on it the first time or she’d lose it.

  Ready . . .

  Green wings fluttered beside her. Moth Flight scrambled to a halt.

  The moth!

  Forgetting the mouse in a moment, she turned to stare at the moth. It was right in front of her, its great wings brilliant in the sunshine.

  Reaching up with her forepaw, she tried to touch it. But it whisked away and began heading across the field.

  Delight surged through Moth Flight’s pelt. She chased the moth, a purr rumbling in her throat. It’s come to show me the way!

  It flitted past a group of sheep. Moth Flight veered around them. The moth lifted higher into the air. No! Don’t leave me! Fear flashed through her. What if it climbed so high she lost sight of it? She ran faster, desperation pricking in her paws.

  I’m not losing you this time!

  A bark cut through the air. Moth Flight’s pelt bushed.

  Dog!

  Dragging her gaze from the moth, she glanced around.

  The bar
k sounded again, louder this time. Then the dog burst into excited yapping. Fear shrilled through Moth Flight.

  It’s seen me!

  She twisted, scanning the field desperately, her senses confused by the earthy meadow scents.

  The sheep began to run, panic showing in their eyes. They closed into a flock, and headed for Moth Flight.

  Still she couldn’t see the dog.

  But its jubilant barking was getting closer every moment.

  Suddenly the flock opened. The terrified sheep scattered as a black-and-white shape surged among them. They shied away, bleating with fear, as it raced toward Moth Flight.

  She froze for a moment, horror gripping her, then spun and pelted for the edge of the field.

  The hedge there was thick. If she could squeeze through it, the dog might not be able to follow.

  Blood roared in her ears as she pushed hard against the earth.

  But the dog’s paws were thrumming closer.

  I can’t outrun it! Unaware of everything but terror, Moth Flight ran onward. Teeth nipped her tail tip. Too scared to look back, she felt her fur spike. The dog’s hot breath billowed over her haunches. Its yelping dropped to a vicious growl.

  If it got a grip on her hind legs, she’d be lost.

  I must face it. The only way to escape was to wound it first.

  Her paws slithering on the grass, she turned and reared. With a yowl, she lashed out with her forepaws.

  Yellow fur flashed between her and the dog.

  Moth Flight froze in surprise, drawing back her paws as a cat pelted past.

  Stumbling, her heart in her throat, she watched as the dog swerved and began to chase the yellow tom across the field.

  Where did he come from?

  Moth Flight stood and watched, numb with shock.

  “Quick!” A mew sounded behind her. She snapped her gaze around, amazed to see two cats pulling up on either side of her.