Cloud Spots nosed his way from the ferns, a roll of herbs dangling from his mouth. He crossed the clearing and dropped them at Moth Flight’s paws. “Take these,” he told her. “They’re some of the herbs we gathered. They might be some help.”
Moth Flight blinked at him gratefully, then dipped her head to Thunder. “Thank you for letting us stay.”
Thunder’s eyes glowed with warmth. “Send my regards to Wind Runner and Gorse Fur.”
“I will.” She snatched up the herb bundle and headed for the gorse barrier. Spotted Fur followed.
“Wait for me!” Micah hurried after them.
Spotted Fur glanced at the yellow tom. “We don’t need you.”
I do! Moth Flight grunted crossly, the herb bundle muffling her mew.
“Two medicine cats are better than one,” Micah insisted.
Spotted Fur shot Moth Flight a glance. He must have seen the anger in her gaze. “Okay,” he snapped, ducking through the gorse barrier. “I guess you can come too.”
“Great! See you soon, Cloud Spots!” Micah called over his shoulder. “Take care of Pink Eyes!”
Moth Flight followed Spotted Fur out of camp and stopped at the bottom of the cliff. Spotted Fur was already scanning the rock face. “Follow me.” He hopped onto the lowest ledge and began to lead a winding route up the cliff.
By the time they reached the WindClan camp, Moth Flight was out of breath. Her tongue burned with herb juices that had seeped out as she gripped the bundle between her jaws. They’d hared over the last stretch of grass and burst into the hollow as the sun lifted above the distant forest. Sunshine flooded the clearing.
Moth Flight raced toward her den. She could hear Micah’s paws thrumming behind her.
Gorse Fur watched them pass, surprise glittering in his eyes. Dust Muzzle and Willow Tail leaped to their paws. Jagged Peak stared from his den, Holly pacing in the shadows behind. Moth Flight felt her pelt prickle as their gaze followed Micah. Why did they look so uneasy?
“Wait!” Wind Runner’s yowl sounded across the camp. Moth Flight skidded to a halt.
Her mother was stalking across the tussocks, staring at Micah. “What’s he doing here?”
Moth Flight dropped the herbs. “He’s come to help!”
“I thought I told you I didn’t want him in the camp!” Wind Runner halted.
Moth Flight faced her. “Rocky’s sick and Micah’s a medicine cat.”
Wind Runner didn’t blink. “Can’t you heal him by yourself?”
“I don’t know.” Moth Flight held her ground. She fought the urge to drop her gaze as Wind Runner glared at her. Rocky needed help.
Wind Runner’s tail twitched ominously “There was an incident while you were away.”
Moth Flight tensed. “What happened?”
“A moor rabbit was found in SkyClan’s territory,” Wind Runner told her.
Micah pricked his ears.
Wind Runner met his gaze accusingly. “Clearly, your Clan is stealing prey from our land.”
Micah shrugged. “How do you know it didn’t just stray across the border by itself?”
Wind Runner lashed her tail. “Willow Tail said she’d seen SkyClan cats on the moor earlier.”
Micah flashed a look at the pale tabby she-cat, who watched through narrowed eyes from beside Dust Muzzle. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves SkyClan can’t be trusted,” Wind Runner snarled.
Moth Flight stepped between her mother and Micah. “I trust Micah!” she growled. “I need his help.”
Wind Runner’s ears twitched. “One day, you’re going to have to stand on your own four paws.”
“One day I will. But not today.” Moth Flight grabbed the herb bundle and marched to her den, Micah at her heels.
Inside, Rocky was shivering in his nest. His matted fur clung to his frame. He looked old and weak. Moth Flight’s heart quickened.
Reed Tail and Swift Minnow crouched beside him.
“How long has he been like this?” Moth Flight asked Reed Tail.
“He took a turn for the worse last night.”
The old tom writhed in the heather, his eyes rolling. “When will leafbare end?” he gasped. “It’s so cold!”
How did he get so sick? Is he dying? Thoughts racing, Moth Flight dropped the herbs and thrust her muzzle close to his. Warmth pulsed from his nose. Panic flashed through her. What do I do first? Words came. “We need to cool him down.” Dappled Pelt had warned her that fevers could be deadly. She turned to Swift Minnow. “Go and find as much moss as you can carry and soak it in a puddle, then bring it back.”
“I’m so cold!” Rocky’s teeth chattered as Swift Minnow raced from the den.
“What can I do?” Reed Tail asked.
“Go with her.”
“Don’t you need me here?” Reed Tail frowned anxiously.
“I’ve got Micah,” Moth Flight told him. “We’ve learned a lot since we left.”
Reed Tail nodded and headed out of the den.
Moth Flight hooked a claw through the grass stem that gripped her bundle and snapped it open. The leaves unrolled and herb scents bathed her nose. She stared at them, panic pricking her paws. Which one is which? What are they for? Her thoughts whirled as she desperately tried to recall Cloud Spots’s training. “Come on,” she hissed to herself under her breath. “Remember!”
Micah’s pelt brushed hers. “Feverfew might help,” he murmured.
Feverfew! Of course! But which one is it? She scanned the leaves, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Then she recognized the delicate scalloped leaves that Cloud Spots had helped her pick yesterday.
“Rocky!” She spoke to the tom sternly, hoping he’d understand. “I need you to swallow some leaves, okay?”
He stared at her through clouded eyes, shivering.
“Do you think you can do that?” If Rocky chewed them and spat them out, they’d be wasted. She’d have to return to the forest to fetch more, and there wasn’t time.
Rocky stared at her blankly.
Micah leaned forward and rested his muzzle on Rocky’s head. “It’s just like eating prey,” he murmured softly.
Rocky grew still. “Like eating prey,” he echoed.
Moth Flight lifted the feverfew to Rocky’s lips with a hooked claw. “Just swallow these and you’ll feel a bit better.”
Micah lapped the old tom’s head. “Just a few leaves,” he soothed.
Obediently Rocky nibbled the herb from Moth Flight’s claws.
“Come on,” Micah urged gently. “They’ll go down easy.”
Relief washed Moth Flight’s pelt as Rocky lapped the leaves down. She stared gratefully at Micah. “Thank you.”
“Sick cats are like kits,” he told her. “A little gentleness goes a long way.”
Moth Flight gazed at Rocky as he slumped deeper into his nest. “What’s wrong with him? He’s not coughing anymore.”
“Listen to his chest,” Micah suggested. “Even when Tiny Branch stopped coughing, I could hear him wheezing inside.”
Moth Flight leaned into the nest, relieved to feel less warmth seeping from Rocky’s pelt. At least the feverfew was working. She pressed her ear to his rib cage and listened. It sounded as though water was bubbling up inside. She sat up, alarmed. “He’s drowning, like Drizzle!”
Micah’s eyes widened. “He can’t be. He hasn’t swallowed any water.”
“There’s water in his chest!” Moth Flight gasped. “I can hear it.”
Micah leaned down and listened, his eyes dark with worry as he straightened. “There must be infection inside.”
Moth Flight’s belly felt hollow. “What can we do?” She stared desperately at Micah. Then she remembered what Cloud Spots had told them on their way home from the Moonstone. “The tree!” She stared at Micah. “The one with the oozing sap! On your territory!”
“Of course!” Micah lifted his tail. “Cloud Spots said it’d cure any cough. Surely it would cure Rocky’s chest
infection!”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Yes!”
“You’re brilliant!” Moth Flight pressed her muzzle against Micah’s cheek, purring. She drew back. “Where is it?”
He nodded. “I took Acorn Fur looking for it. It wasn’t hard to find. Its sap smells as strong as pine, but sweeter.”
“We must go there now!” Moth Flight’s paws itched.
“We?” Micah hesitated. “Perhaps I should go alone. Wind Runner won’t want you going to SkyClan territory.”
“I’m coming with you!” She had to see where the tree was. One day her Clan might depend on it. And Rocky needed it now. She lifted her chin. Wind Runner wasn’t going to stop her from being the best medicine cat she could be. “We won’t tell Wind Runner where we’re going. Let’s hurry.” She glanced at Rocky, who was worryingly still, his flanks hardly moving.
Micah followed her gaze, then nodded. “Come on.” He hared out of the den. Moth Flight raced after him. They crossed the clearing in a few bounds.
“Where are you going?” Dust Muzzle’s mew echoed after them as they headed through the entrance.
“We won’t be long!” Moth Flight called back evasively.
They raced down the moorside, Moth Flight taking the lead and burning trails through the heather. She reached the SkyClan border, her chest on fire. “Which way?”
Micah pelted past her. “Follow me.”
Moth Flight chased him through the wall of ferns and around a clump of brambles. He cleared a rotting log in one bound. She scrambled over it and kept running, digging in her paws to catch up as he disappeared over a rise. She followed, her heart lurching as the ground opened into a ditch. Her forepaws slipped over the edge. She pushed hard with her hind legs and soared over the gap. Landing heavily, she sent leaves swirling behind her. Micah was still running and she chased after him, determined not to lose sight. He swerved past an ancient oak and followed a gully that cut into a glade. The trees thinned and sunlight streamed in. Bluebells misted the ground, turning the forest floor purple.
“This is it!” Micah slowed and circled a tall tree at the bottom of the glade. “The bark at the base is too old,” he meowed. “I’ll have to climb to the top where there are tender stems.”
Moth Flight scrambled to a halt, her heart pounding. “It’s so tall! Can you climb trees?”
“I don’t know! I’ve never tried.” Micah peered up through the leafy branches. “It can’t be harder than the barn ladder.”
“It’s a lot higher.” Anxiety wormed beneath Moth Flight’s pelt. She’d never climbed a tree. On the moor, prey lived among the gorse and heather.
“Once I get to the first branch, I’ll be okay.” Micah reached up with his forepaws and hooked his claws into the bark. Shards flaked away and showered around him.
“I’m coming with you.” Moth Flight was not letting him try this alone.
“No. I need to concentrate. If you climb up, I’ll be distracted because I’ll be worrying about you.” Micah looked at her. “You stay here and I’ll drop the bark down to you.”
Moth Flight blinked at him uncertainly. “Are you sure we can’t just scrape the bark away here?” She nodded toward the peeling wood.
“It’s as dry as a bone.” He leaped up, digging his hind claws in and scooting toward a branch jutting a few tail-lengths above his head.
“Be careful!” Moth Flight called, her breath quickening as she watched him scramble higher.
Grunting, he hauled himself onto the lowest branch. “This is easy!” he called down.
Moth Flight screwed up her eyes as crumbs of bark drifted down like snowflakes. “Don’t forget you’re not a squirrel!”
“I won’t.” Micah craned his neck, peering up toward the next branch. Reaching up, he clung to the trunk and hauled himself higher.
Moth Flight paced the bottom of the tree. Be careful!
Ferns swished behind her. She glanced over her shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” Clear Sky stalked into the glade, his broad shoulders rippling. An angry snarl curled his lip.
“We need medicine for Rocky,” Moth Flight explained. “He’s really sick.”
“Don’t you have herbs on the moor?” Clear Sky stopped a whisker from her nose.
She backed away, shocked by the menace in his mew.
“We need sap from this tree.” She glanced toward Micah. Leaves shivered around him, high among the branches.
Clear Sky jerked his muzzle up. “Is that my medicine cat?”
Yellow fur showed between the leaves as Micah climbed higher.
“He’s helping me,” Moth Flight explained.
“Get off my land,” Clear Sky hissed at her.
Moth Flight stiffened. “I’m not hunting!”
“WindClan seem to think that borders only work one way!”
“That’s not true.” Moth Flight’s hackles rose. “It’s SkyClan who’s been stealing moor prey!”
Clear Sky’s blue gaze turned to ice. His pelt lifted along his spine.
Moth Flight froze, wishing she hadn’t spoken. She backed away feeling suddenly vulnerable. “I’m just a medicine cat,” she mewed. “I only want to get sap to cure Rocky! As soon as Micah finds some bark, I’ll take it and leave.”
“You’re not taking anything from SkyClan territory,” Clear Sky snarled.
“But Rocky might die without it!”
“That’s not my problem!”
Moth Flight couldn’t believe her ears. How could any cat be so cruel?
“Moth Flight?” Micah’s mew sounded from high among the branches. “Are you okay?”
Clear Sky glanced upward. “She will be. If she goes home.”
Leaves shivered on a branch and Micah stuck out his head. “Clear Sky? What are you doing here?”
“It’s my territory!” Clear Sky yowled. “Or had you forgotten?”
Micah blinked at him. “Of course not, but we need to get some sap for R—”
Clear Sky cut him off. “Stop playing the hero for your little WindClan friend. Your loyalty is to me. Get down from there!”
“I’m a medicine cat,” Micah called back. “It’s my duty to cure cats.”
“It’s your duty to cure your Clanmates,” Clear Sky hissed. “Not every cat you meet.”
Anger flared in Moth Flight’s belly. “We can’t let cats die, just because they belong to a different Clan!”
Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. “Are you telling me how to lead my Clan?”
“Someone needs to!” Moth Flight snapped. “You’re a fox-heart!”
Eyes flashing with rage, Clear Sky lashed out and raked her muzzle.
Shocked, she recoiled.
“Leave her alone!” Micah began to climb down.
“I will if she gets out of here,” Clear Sky snarled.
“Stay where you are, Micah!” Moth Flight dug her claws into the earth. She forced her mew not to tremble. “Rocky needs the sap. I can’t let him die.”
Brown fur showed at the top of the glade. Red Claw! Moth Flight spotted him with a spark of relief. Perhaps he could talk some sense into his leader.
The SkyClan tom padded down the slope and stopped beside Clear Sky. “Is WindClan trying to start another fight?” His gaze swept Moth Flight, cold with disdain. The hope Moth Flight had felt at his arrival dimmed.
Above, a branch shook. “I’m coming down!” Micah called.
“No!” Moth Flight ignored the fear sparking beneath her pelt. “Rocky needs the bark.” She narrowed her eyes, glaring defiantly at Clear Sky. “You can do what you like to me. I’m not leaving.”
Red Claw glanced uneasily at Clear Sky. “She’s hardly more than a kit.”
“There’s no need to hurt her.” Clear Sky lifted his gaze to Micah. “Stop him from getting the bark. She can return to her camp, but she’ll go with empty paws.”
Red Claw nodded and raced for the tree. Leaping, he clung to the bark and pulled himself onto the first
branch.
“Watch out, Micah!” Moth Flight wailed. “Red Claw’s coming!”
A growl rumbled ominously in Clear Sky’s throat. “I knew I should never have taken him in.”
Moth Flight blinked at him. “But he cured your kit!”
“Acorn Fur could have cured Tiny Branch.”
“No she couldn’t!” Moth Flight spat back. “She knew nothing about healing until Micah came and taught her.”
Clear Sky’s gaze didn’t move from the tree. He was watching Red Claw scramble through the branches. Micah was still climbing, close to the top now.
Moth Flight’s chest swelled with rage. “You’re lucky to have a cat like Micah in your Clan!” she growled. “He’s the bravest and cleverest cat I’ve ever met.”
“You’re the clever one,” Clear Sky snarled. “You’re here, with your paws safely on the ground. He thinks he’s got wings.”
Moth Flight lifted her chin. “You’ve never given him a fair chance!” she growled. “He left his friends to help your Clan, and you treat him like a prisoner! You’ve made Acorn Fur spy on him! I wish he’d leave you and join WindClan!”
Clear Sky turned on her. “No one leaves my Clan without permission!”
Brambles trembled at the top of the slope. Willow Tail burst out, her pelt bushed. “What’s going on here?” She bounded down the slope, pushing herself between Moth Flight and Clear Sky.
Clear Sky stared at her. “Another WindClan cat! Can’t you smell boundaries?”
Willow Tail nudged Moth Flight away and faced the SkyClan leader. “I was worried about Moth Flight when I smelled her trail cross the border. I wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“I’m fine,” Moth Flight told her. “It’s Micah who’s in trouble.” She nodded toward Red Claw, who was only a few tail-lengths behind Micah. “He’s trying to stop Micah from getting the bark we need to cure Rocky!”
Willow Tail’s eyes blazed with anger. “Red Claw! I might have known. He was trouble when we were rogues together and he’s still trouble now.” Pelt bushing, she raced for the tree and scooted up it, as nimble as a squirrel. Leaves showered down as she scrambled up the trunk.
As she disappeared among the leaves, a lower branch trembled and Micah stuck his head out. A long strip of bark hung from his jaws. Scrambling onto the next branch down, he leaped for the trunk and dropped tail-first toward the ground. Landing lightly, he hurried toward Moth Flight and laid the bark at her paws. It glistened in the sunshine, sap oozing from its flesh. “I got it!”