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 Dust 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.
“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.