As she emerged from the gorse, she blinked, surprised to see a grassy clearing. Bushes encircled it, and a wide thicket of bramble crowded one end, while a great rock towered at the other. On the far side, a cliff showed amid burgeoning ferns and, at the other side, a rotting tree lay, bark crumbling around it.
Cloud Spots headed for the brambles, while Micah paused in the clearing.
Moth Flight stopped beside him. She could smell ThunderClan scents. They clung to the grass and drifted from every bush, but there was no sign of any cat. “Where is every cat?”
“Hunting!” Cloud Spots called over his shoulder before disappearing among the bramble stems.
“I’m not.” A croaky mew sounded from the shadows beneath a jutting branch of the fallen tree. A skinny white tom crept out. Moth Flight recognized Pink Eyes. She’d seen him at her first Gathering. He blinked through sunlight shafting past the thick canopy. Is he blind now? The tom was squinting, as though trying to make them out.
“It’s me, Moth Flight.” She padded closer. “I’m WindClan’s medicine cat—”
Pink Eyes interrupted. “You don’t need to tell me who you are. The Clan has been gossiping about you since you came back from Highstones, talking of spirit-cats.”
Moth Flight hesitated. The Clans gossiped about her? She shifted her paws self-consciously as Pink Eyes went on.
“You told Cloud Spots to be our medicine cat, so now he wants me to eat herbs,” he muttered peevishly. “He thinks he can cure my aches and pains. But you can’t cure old age.”
Cloud Spots squeezed out from the bramble. “I can try,” he called to Pink Eyes.
“I’d rather you brought me a fresh vole every day,” Pink Eyes huffed.
Cloud Spots flashed Moth Flight an exasperated look. “It’s my job to take care of you.”
A young orange-and-white she-kit who looked about three moons old slid out from the bramble and raced toward the old tom. “Pink Eyes! Shall I fetch fresh moss for your bedding?”
A dappled gray tom-kit chased after her. “I’ll help you, Apple Blossom.” He stopped as he saw Moth Flight and Micah and blinked at them in surprise. “Are these the visitors you told Milkweed about?” he asked Cloud Spots.
“Yes. Moth Flight and Micah.”
“Hi!” Apple Blossom dipped her head, then looked at Cloud Spots. “Can we go and gather moss for Pink Eyes’s bed?”
Pink Eyes snorted. “I don’t need my nest stuffed with damp moss.”
Apple Blossom lifted her tail. “We’ll lay it in the sun to dry first.” She flicked her muzzle toward the dappled gray tom-kit. “Snail Shell says he found a patch of the softest moss ever.”
The tom-kit nodded. “We can fetch it now.”
Cloud Spots frowned. “Is it far from camp?”
Snail Shell shook his head. “It’s near the top of the ravine.”
Apple Blossom blinked hopefully at the ThunderClan medicine cat. “We won’t be gone long.”
Cloud Spots dipped his head. “Be careful climbing down. It’s hard to see where you’re putting your paws with a mouthful of moss.”
Apple Blossom hared toward the gorse barrier. “We won’t fall.”
Snail Shell chased after her, disappearing through the gap in the dark green branches.
Pink Eyes rolled his eyes dramatically. “Between swallowing herbs and having my nest cleaned out, I don’t get a moment’s peace.”
Cloud Spots purred. “And don’t forget all the kit-watching you do,” he teased.
“Kit-watching!” Pink Eyes grunted. “I suppose I feel useful helping out Gooseberry and Yew Tail. Makes the new family feel welcome. But Apple Blossom and Snail Shell hardly need me anymore.”
“Shivering Rose, Hazel Burrow, and Morning Fire will, as soon as they’re big enough to leave the den.”
Moth Flight pricked her ears. If Apple Blossom and Snail Shell belong to a new family, then the kits Cloud Spots just mentioned must be . . . “Are they Milkweed’s kits?”
Cloud Spots nodded, glancing toward the bramble bush. “Do you want to see them?”
“Yes.” Though Moth Flight was more interested in finding out if Milkweed had eaten the borage Cloud Spots had taken her. She followed the ThunderClan medicine cat toward the tangle of brambles that spilled from one edge of the clearing. As she neared, she saw a small entrance hollowed among the stems.
Cloud Spots stuck his nose in. “Milkweed! Moth Flight’s here. May she see your kits?”
“Of course!” A gentle mew sounded from inside.
Moth Flight glanced at Micah, standing in the clearing. “Can Micah come?”
Micah shrugged. “Cow always told me to leave a queen and her kits to themselves. I’ll keep Pink Eyes company,” he meowed. “He must have plenty of stories to share.”
Pink Eyes’s tail twitched. “I don’t see why a young tom like you would be interested, but okay.”
Cloud Spots wriggled through the brambles and Moth Flight followed. She was surprised to find herself in a wide hollow walled by prickly stems. Sunlight speared through gaps in the branches. “How did you make this den?” she asked, gazing around.
“Carefully,” Cloud Spots purred.
Three wide nests, woven from twigs and lined with moss, sat on a dry earth floor. A splotchy ginger-and-black she-cat gazed with amber eyes from one. Three tiny kits squirmed at her belly, their eyes closed.
The warm scent of milk touched Moth Flight’s nose. One of the kits began mewling as another pushed him away from his mother’s soft flank. Milkweed quickly scooped him near with a paw. “That’s Hazel Burrow,” she purred. “Shivering Rose and Morning Fire are always stealing his milk. But he’s going to grow into a handsome tom, just like his father.”
“They’re all beautiful.” Moth Flight gazed at the black-and-white tom-kit, happy now as he nursed at Milkweed’s belly. Shivering Rose nuzzled in beside him, her black pelt as fluffy as an owl chick’s, while Morning Fire squirmed closer, her dark brown fur camouflaged among the shadows.
Moth Flight glanced toward the empty nest on the other side of the den. It smelled warm. “Is that Apple Blossom and Snail Shell’s nest?”
“They share it with their mother, Gooseberry,” Cloud Spots told her.
“There’s hardly room for them anymore,” Milkweed commented. “But there may be more space soon. The third nest belongs to Violet Dawn, and I think she wants to move to Thunder’s den.”
Moth Flight knew that Violet Dawn was a sleek dark gray she-cat who’d joined ThunderClan several moons ago. Thunder had taken her as his mate.
Cloud Spots narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Perhaps they should be building new nests instead of collecting moss for Pink Eyes.”
A hoarse mew sounded outside the den. “Do you want me to go scavenging for my own bedding?”
Cloud Spots purred. “Pink Eyes’s sight may be weak, but his hearing is as sharp as ever.” He nodded toward the den entrance. “Let’s leave Milkweed to rest.”
“Have you given her the borage?” Moth Flight asked.
Cloud Spots nodded to a pile of leaves beside her nest. “She’s had one leaf and I’m leaving the rest in case she needs more.”
“Take some for your store,” Milkweed told him. “I won’t need it all.”
Cloud Spots glanced at the kits, suckling happily at her belly, and nodded. “Okay.” He grabbed a few leaves from the pile and nosed his way out of the den.
“Thanks for letting me see your kits,” Moth Flight mewed gratefully to the queen.
Milkweed purred. “There’s nothing better than being a mother.”
“I guess.” Moth Flight shrugged, wondering what could be better than roaming the moor alone, searching for new plants. She couldn’t imagine being responsible for cats too helpless to look after themselves. But isn’t that what a medicine cat has to do? Her belly tightened as she followed Cloud Spots into the clearing. Then she saw Micah. He looked so handsome, a pool of sunshine creeping slowly across his flank. He wa
s lying beside Pink Eyes, his attention fixed on the old tom as he listened.
“The squirrel was near the top of the tree,” Pink Eyes rumbled. “But I wasn’t going to let it get away. I followed it up. Then, just as I scrambled onto the highest branch, there was—” The old tom broke off and snapped his gaze toward the gorse.
A moment later, the barrier trembled and Thunder padded into camp. Lightning Tail trotted at his heels. The ThunderClan leader’s orange pelt glowed in the dappled sunlight. A rabbit hung from his jaws. Owl Eyes and Leaf followed, carrying prey.
“Good hunting, I see?” Cloud Spots nodded toward the rabbit.
Thunder dropped his catch. “Just wait until greenleaf.” His gaze slid toward Moth Flight.
Micah scrambled to his paws and shook out his dusty pelt. “I hope you don’t mind—”
Thunder dipped his head to Moth Flight. “We are honored by your visit.” He turned to Micah. “How is Clear Sky?”
“He’s fine.”
Lightning Tail grunted. “Does he still think he’s the best cat in the forest?”
“He knows his strengths,” Micah answered diplomatically.
Thunder snorted. “I bet he likes you.”
“He will,” Micah answered. “Eventually.”
Leaf was heading for the nursery. “Is Milkweed okay?” he called to Cloud Spots.
“She’s fine.”
Owl Eyes glanced toward the gorse barrier. “Violet Dawn asked me if you have any chervil. She’s had a bellyache all morning.”
“Where is she?” Cloud Spots’s eyes darkened with worry.
“She stopped to help Apple Blossom and Snail Shell gather moss,” Owl Eyes told him.
“I’ll get some for her,” Cloud Spots meowed. “There’s plenty in the forest.”
Micah narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you keep any in your store?”
Cloud Spots shrugged. “It’s better to pick fresh leaves this time of year,” he explained. “I’ll gather some to dry for my store in late greenleaf, when it’s starting to die back.”
Paw steps sounded beyond the gorse barrier and Thistle and Clover pushed their way into camp. They were dragging a fat wood pigeon between them.
Thunder swished his tail. “You managed to get it down the cliff!”
Clover sniffed. “Thistle threw it over the edge and we hauled it from the bottom.”
Moth Flight glanced at the battered bird, its wings splayed awkwardly. Feathers speckled the ground around it. “It was a good thing no one was underneath.”
Thistle sniffed. “Any cat who can’t hear a pigeon bouncing down a cliff needs his ears checked.”
Micah’s eyes flashed with amusement. “It looks like it hit every ledge on the way down.”
Pink Eyes padded to the pigeon and sniffed it. “At least it’ll be tender.”
Cloud Spots nodded toward the ferns. “Do you want to see my den before I go and gather chervil?”
Moth Flight nodded eagerly and followed as Cloud Spots headed across the clearing and pushed through a tunnel of ferns.
Moth Flight glanced at Micah as he stopped beside her. “You go first.”
The yellow tom dipped his head and nosed his way after Cloud Spots. Moth Flight followed, padding through the fern tunnel, her belly fluttering with excitement. She could already smell Cloud Spot’s herbs. A small clearing opened ahead, edged by a cliff that stretched toward the top of the ravine. Water trickled down the rock, pooling at one edge, and a crack opened in the stone. Moth Flight padded toward it and sniffed, her nose twitching as the pungent herb scents grew stronger. “Do you keep your stores in there?” She peered into the darkness.
Cloud Spots brushed past her and reached into the crack. He pulled out a wad of leaves, neatly bundled and tied with grass. He opened it and spread the herbs over the den floor.
Moth Flight glanced at them, hoping to recognize one. But they were forest herbs, lush and dark and musty-smelling.
“This is comfrey.” Cloud Spots pulled the largest leaf closer. “I keep a few leaves in my store in case Pink Eyes is wakened in the night by aches. But the forest is full of it and I like to gather it fresh each day and line his nest with it.”
“What does it do?” Micah sniffed the furry leaf.
“It eases the pains in his joints,” Cloud Spots told him.
“Can you eat it?” Moth Flight asked.
“Yes, but wrapping sore limbs in the leaves works just as well,” Cloud Spots told her. “I’ve heard it even helps broken limbs to heal, though I’ve not yet had to try it.”
The ferns rustled and Leaf padded into the den. “Milkweed’s thirsty,” he meowed.
Cloud Spots jerked his muzzle around. “I’m sorry! I meant to give her fresh moss.”
Moth Flight frowned, puzzled. How could moss help thirst?
“I’ll take it to her.” Leaf padded toward the water pooling beside the rock. He hooked a lump of moss from a heap piled at one edge and dipped it in the water. He let it soak for a few moments, then grabbed it between his jaws and carried it, dripping, toward the fern tunnel.
As he disappeared, Moth Flight blinked. “She laps water from the moss!” Had she seen Reed Tail soaking moss in puddles on the moor? She must ask him when she got back. It was a great idea. Sick cats could stay in their nests and rest instead of roaming the moor in search of a drink.
Cloud Spots gathered up his herbs. “I’d better gather chervil for Violet Dawn. Come with me. I’ll show you some other herbs you might find useful.”
“Great!” Micah lifted his tail.
Happiness fizzed beneath Moth Flight’s fur. She was going to return to WindClan knowing so much! Cheerfully she followed Micah and Cloud Spots out of the den.
An owl hooted at the top of the ravine. Moth Flight huddled closer to Micah, searching for a glimpse of the moon through the canopy of trees. Thunder had offered them a nest beside the fallen tree. She could hear Pink Eyes snoring a tail-length away and smell the comfrey lining his nest.
The forest was black with shadow. She was used to the moor, washed silver by moonlight. Countless scents, made richer by a heavy dew, filled her nose. Trying to ignore the pressing darkness, she recalled the plants Cloud Spots had shown them, murmuring their names under her breath. “Coltsfoot, goldenrod, feverfew, catchweed—”
“Can’t you sleep?” Micah whispered in the darkness.
“I don’t want to forget anything,” Moth Flight told him.
Micah nuzzled her ear. “He’ll show us again tomorrow,” he promised. “You’ll remember, don’t worry.”
I hope so.
“Go to sleep,” Micah murmured. “It’s been a busy day, and tomorrow might be even busier.”
Moth Flight closed her eyes and nestled against his thick fur. It was cozy here. Snail Shell and Apple Blossom had brought back so much moss that there was enough to line their own nest. Micah’s warm scent seeped into her thoughts as she slipped into sleep. She purred contentedly. She could easily get used to sleeping beside him every night.
CHAPTER 21
Moth Flight slept. As Micah’s soft breath washed her muzzle, she dreamed.
Four kits squirmed between them in a sunny nest. Happily, she nuzzled the strong tom-kit clambering over her flank. “Look, Micah! He’s as handsome as you!” She turned to meet Micah’s loving gaze, but he’d gone. Alarm spiked through her pelt. “Micah? Where are you?” She was suddenly alone in the nest, cold air flooding around her. “Kits?” Panic surged through her. She leaped to her paws and stared into the shadows closing fast around the nest. Straining to see, she searched for Micah and her kits. “Where did you go?”
“Moth Flight!”
A voice called her name.
“Micah! Is that you?” She struggled awake.
“Moth Flight!”
Bleary with sleep, she struggled free of her dream. She could feel Micah, warm against her. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She was in the ThunderClan camp. Soft dawn light crept into the shel
ter of the fallen tree where they’d made their nest.
“Moth Flight!” Someone was calling her from the clearing.
“I’m coming!” She scrambled onto her paws and hurried out.
Spotted Fur stood in the middle, gazing desperately around. His ears pricked as he saw her. “There you are!”
“What’s happened?” Fear stabbed her belly. What had sent him here at dawn?
“You said you’d be with RiverClan!” There was reproach in his mew. “River Ripple told me you were here.” His gaze flicked past her as fur brushed beneath the jutting branch of the fallen tree. “Micah.” Spotted Fur’s hackles lifted as the yellow tom slid out behind Moth Flight.
Moth Flight flicked her tail impatiently. “What’s happened?”
The WindClan tom looked away from Micah. “Rocky’s sick!”
Moth Flight frowned. “Is he coughing again?”
“No,” Spotted Fur told her. “He’s burning hot and he’s talking nonsense!”
“Has he been eating catmint?”
“Reed Tail says he’s only had tansy,” Spotted Fur told her.
Thunder slid from the lichen draping the entrance to his den. “What’s going on?” He stared at Spotted Fur.
“We need Moth Flight,” Spotted Fur told him.
Around the camp, cats were beginning to stir. Apple Blossom peeked out of the bramble den. Lightning Tail ducked from under a spreading yew, Leaf at his tail.
Lightning Tail narrowed his eyes as he saw Spotted Fur. “How did you find your way into the camp?”
“How do you think?” Spotted Fur snorted. “I followed my nose, of course. Do you think ThunderClan paw prints don’t smell?”
Thunder stepped forward, his ears twitching crossly. “You’re disturbing my Clan.”
“I’m just here to fetch Moth Flight.” Spotted Fur glared at the ThunderClan leader. “One of our Clanmates is sick. We need her.”
Heat washed Moth Flight’s pelt. Did Spotted Fur have to be rude? Thunder and his Clanmates had been so kind.