Willow Tail’s ears twitched. “Looks like Silver Stripe fell into a tunnel and she can’t get out, the poor kit. She’s scared half to death but the hole’s too narrow for me to squeeze through.”
Moth Flight caught up, skidding to a halt and peering into the small gap in the grass where Silver Stripe’s wails were growing louder. “Are you hurt?” she called down.
“Not yet,” Silver Stripe squeaked nervously. “But I’m sure I can hear paw steps coming up the tunnel toward me!”
Black Ear’s eyes widened. “A badger!”
White Tail unsheathed his tiny claws. “I’ll save her.” He stuck his head into the hole and began to burrow into the tunnel.
“No you don’t!” Spotted Fur grabbed his tail between his teeth and hauled the kit backward. “We’re not losing two of you.”
Black Ear tried to scrabble free. “But what about the badger?”
“That tunnel’s too small for a badger,” Willow Tail assured him.
White Tail blinked at the tom. “What about rats?”
Moth Flight’s heart quickened, her fear spilling into anger.
“Why didn’t you just stay in camp?” she snapped at the kits.
Black Ear met her gaze innocently. “We were going to ask you if we could leave, but you were asleep.”
Willow Tail flashed her a look. “Were you supposed to be watching them?”
Moth Flight dropped her gaze guiltily. “Yes,” she confessed, her fur rippling with irritation. Why did Slate have to ask her to watch her kits? Everyone knows I’m a featherbrain!
Spotted Fur pushed past her and began tearing at the grass around the narrow tunnel entrance. “Let’s just get Silver Stripe out. I can’t smell rat scent down there, but she must be cold and hungry.”
Willow Tail nodded and hooked her claws into the earth, ripping away another clump. Together they dug out soil around the rim. Moth Flight found herself watching the grassy clods as her Clanmates flung them aside. They exploded as they hit the ground; the soil here wasn’t as dark and wet as it was on the high moor. And she noticed that the grass was softer too, nothing like the stiff grass around camp; it smelled lusher too.
“Stop staring and help!” Willow Tail’s sharp mew broke into her thoughts.
Moth Flight hopped forward, tripping over Black Ear. He squeaked as her paw squashed his tail, then dragged it free and glared at her indignantly.
“Sorry!” Moth Flight plunged her forepaws into the hole beside Spotted Fur’s and began scraping out soil. She could see Silver Stripe’s muzzle, lit by the late sunshine that broke into the widening hole. The earth was easy to scrape away—lighter and crumblier than the heavy peat higher on the moor. Moth
Flight wondered if different plants grew here and, as she helped Willow Tail and Spotted Fur dig, glanced furtively around, looking for unusual leaf shapes showing in the grass nearby.
“That should be big enough.” Willow Tail sat back on her haunches.
Spotted Fur frowned. “It’s too small for me to fit in.”
Silver Stripe was already trying to scrabble up the steep sides of the hole, yowling with frustration each time she slid down as the earth crumbled beneath her claws.
“You’re small enough to squeeze in.” Willow Tail stared at Moth Flight. “Jump down and give him a boost.”
Moth Flight hesitated. She knew that some of the WindClan cats liked running though the rabbit tunnels. Holly often took Eagle Feather and Dew Nose hunting there. But Moth Flight preferred to feel the wind in her fur.
Spotted Fur nudged her shoulder with his muzzle. “Don’t think about the dark,” he urged gently. “Silver Stripe needs help.”
Steadying her breath, Moth Flight slithered into the hole.
Her paws slipped as she reached the bottom, and she nearly fell.
A cold musky smell swirled around her. She shivered, the darkness of the tunnel pressing around her until her belly tightened with fear.
“You saved me!” Silver Stripe flung herself against Moth
Flight, purring loudly. Moth Flight suddenly realized how brave the young kit had been, trapped alone down here for so long.
She peered, blinking, into the blackness beyond the kit, wondering with a shiver how far the tunnel stretched and what might be at the end of it. She sniffed for rat scent, pricking her ears to listen for the slither of tails. Nothing. The tunnel was clear. “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she whispered into Silver Stripe’s soft ear. “I should have been watching you.”
Silver Stripe’s cold muzzle brushed her cheek. “I’m sorry we ran off,” she apologized, her mew thick.
“Let’s get you out of here.” Moth Flight ducked and tucked her nose beneath the kit’s haunches. “Jump!” she ordered, her mew muffled by fur. As Silver Stripe leaped, Moth Flight heaved her upward. She smelled Spotted Fur’s warm breath as he reached down and grabbed the kit’s scruff, scooping her into the light.
“Silver Stripe!” White Tail squeaked happily.
Black Ear mewled with excitement. “We thought rats would get you for sure.”
Spotted Fur purred. “Are you coming, Moth Flight?”
Moth Flight hardly heard him. As she stared at the ring of light above her, a sharp tang touched her nose. She opened her mouth, intrigued. There was an unfamiliar sour scent mingled in with the heavy smell of earth. She glanced down the tunnel, widening her eyes to adjust to the gloom. White roots dangled from the roof of the tunnel a tail-length away. They didn’t smell like grass roots. Or heather. Or gorse. I knew there must be special plants growing in this sandy soil! Her heart quickening, Moth Flight padded deeper into the darkness until her face brushed the roots. Sticking out her tongue, she licked them gingerly, intrigued by their sweet flavor. I wonder what the leaves of this plant look like? Moth Flight knew that she wasn’t far from the surface. Leaning back on her haunches, she began to dig upward, through the earth around the roots. If she could just claw away a few pawfuls of soil, she’d be able to drag the whole plant down and look at it properly.
“Moth Flight?” Spotted Fur’s mew echoed along the tunnel.
“Where are you?”
“Coming,” she called back absently. Dirt spilled onto her tongue as she spoke, and she coughed, spitting it out.
“Hurry up!” Willow Tail’s mew was sharper than Spotted Fur’s. “We need to get these kits back to their mother. They’re tired and hungry!”
“I won’t be long!” Moth Flight scrabbled harder at the soil above her head, screwing up her eyes against the earth, which showered her face. The roots were thicker, higher up, and she curled her claws into their flesh and tugged. They slid free, bringing pawfuls of dirt with them as Moth Flight dragged the plant down into the tunnel. Laying it on the ground, she tried to make out the shape of the leaves.
“Moth Flight!” Willow Tail sounded angry. “We need you up here!”
Moth Flight grasped the plant between her jaws and raced back along the tunnel. Reaching up, she scrambled out, thankful to feel Spotted Fur’s teeth in her scruff as he helped haul her free of the crumbling earth.
“What, in all the stars, is that?” Willow Tail stared at the plant dangling from Moth Flight’s jaws.
Moth Flight dropped it, spitting out dirt. “I don’t know,” she spluttered. “But I want to find out.”
Willow Tail glared at her. “You’re not bringing it with you,” she snapped. “These kits are two moons old and too tired to walk back to camp. They need carrying.”
Moth Flight’s heart sank. She glanced at the plant she’d unearthed. Its bright green leaves had scalloped edges and it smelled pungent—almost how she imagined RiverClan water plants would smell. “I can’t leave it behind!” She knew all the plants on the high moor. This was new! She looked hopefully at Spotted Fur. “Can’t one of the kits ride on your back?”