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 bark 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.