Bubbling Stream padded closer. “He wouldn’t let Blue
Whisker climb. He said she wasn’t ready.”
“So she decided to try it today.” Moth Flight glared at Blue
Whisker.
Blue Whisker’s eyes glistened. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
Honey Pelt puffed out his chest. “I didn’t see her climbing, or I’d have stopped her.”
But you didn’t! Moth Flight shifted her paws. Why should you? He was only a kit. He wasn’t responsible for Blue Whisker’s safety. I am!
“Is she okay?” Her mother’s voice took her by surprise.
Moth Flight glanced over her shoulder and saw Wind Runner stalking across the hollow. Reed Tail and Spotted Fur hurried after her.
“She’s fine,” Moth Flight told them. “Just winded.” As she spoke, she was suddenly aware of heat pulsing from Slate’s pelt.
She sniffed at the she-cat, and smelled the sour scent of fever.
“You should go and rest in your den,” she told her softly, guilt pricking beneath her pelt.
Slate didn’t argue, but padded slowly away.
Moth Flight jerked her muzzle toward Blue Whisker. “Go and play with your littermates.” She watched her kits head away, tails drooping.
Spotted Fur trotted after them. “Why don’t we have a game of moss ball!” he called.
Honey Pelt turned, his gaze brightening. “Can I be on your team?”
“I want to be on Spotted Fur’s team!” Bubbling Stream raced toward the golden tom and clambered onto his shoulders.
Spider Paw glanced at Blue Whisker. “You can be on my team,” he purred. “We’ll beat them easily.”
Moth Flight dragged her gaze away, gratitude soothing the tension in her belly. Thank you, Spotted Fur.
Reed Tail’s mew pierced her thoughts. He was watching Slate disappear into her den. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I think she’s caught a chill,” Moth Flight guessed, still distracted by her kits.
“I’ll check on her,” Reed Tail offered.
Moth Flight flicked her tail toward Rocky’s den. “Will you finish putting comfrey on Rocky’s joints first? I’ve given him catmint to lift his spirits, but he’s still in a lot of pain.”
“Of course.” Reed Tail padded away.
Moth Flight looked at Wind Runner.
Her mother had sat down and was staring at her. “It’s not easy, is it?”
“What?” Moth Flight stiffened. A snarl edged Wind Runner’s mew.
Her mother eyed her coldly. “Making sure every cat is safe and well.”
Moth Flight prickled. “What are you trying to say?”
“You think I’m wrong for rejecting SkyClan. But I’m doing it because I think it’s best for all of us.”
“It wasn’t best for Tiny Branch.” Moth Flight lifted her chin.
“He died.”
She saw Wind Runner flinch, but the WindClan leader didn’t soften her gaze. “I presume you tried to save him.”
“Of course!”
“But you couldn’t.”
“I might have, if Clear Sky had allowed Acorn Fur to ask for help earlier.” Moth Flight flattened her ears. “Or if you hadn’t tried to stop us from going to help.”
“Really?” Wind Runner narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t know!” Moth Flight snapped. “I never will. And neither will Clear Sky.”
“That’s how it feels to be a leader,” Wind Runner growled.
“You make the best decision you can. But you can’t be sure how it will turn out. I’ve seen what Clear Sky is capable of. I fought in the Great Battle. Not because I wanted to fight, but because not fighting would have destroyed the Clans.”
“How?” Moth Flight didn’t understand. How could peace hurt any cat?
“Clear Sky was hungry for power. We would have lived like prey if we hadn’t stood up to him.” Wind Runner’s tail twitched.
“No cat should live like prey.”
“Clear Sky’s changed.”
“How do you know?”
“I watched him grieve for his kit.”
A low growl rumbled in Wind Runner’s throat. “I’ve grieved for kits. Do you think it softened me?”
Moth Flight glared at her mother. “I wish it had!”
Wind Runner thrust her muzzle forward, rage blazing in her yellow eyes. “Every decision I make is for the good of the Clan.
You may think I’m wrong, but never dare to question me again!”
Moth Flight ducked just in time to avoid her mother’s lashing tail as the WindClan leader turned and stalked away.
Moth Flight watched her go, her belly hollow. How could Wind Runner stand by her decision to shun SkyClan? A kit had died!
She curled her claws into the sandy earth. I’d do the same again and again. A leader might let a cat die, but I’m not a leader; I’m a medicine cat.
She glanced across the clearing and guessed that Reed Tail must still be dressing Rocky’s aching joints. She’d see to Slate herself. She padded toward the she-cat’s den and ducked inside.
Slate was alone, lying in her nest, eyes closed. Moth Flight leaned close, shocked by how much heat pulsed from the she-cat’s pelt.
Slate’s eyes flickered open, then she coughed. Jerking, she struggled to her paws, the cough taking hold of her and shaking her body. Moth Flight reached out a paw to steady the she-cat as she rocked. How had Slate grown so ill so quickly? Moth Flight widened her eyes, adjusting to the gloomy den, and saw stains darkening the moss beneath Slate’s chin.
Blood!
Moth Flight backed away, heart lurching.
Fur brushed the gorse entrance and she turned to see Reed Tail slide in.
“That cough sounds bad.” The tom blinked at her, stiffening as he read her gaze. “What is it?”
“Redcough,” Moth Flight breathed.
Reed Tail glanced at Slate, stiffening. “Do you have any bark left from when Rock—”
Moth Flight didn’t let him finish. Her thoughts were whirling. “The sap dried up and flaked off a moon ago. She needs fresh.”
“But how do we get it?”
“I’ll go.”
“But it’s in SkyClan territory.”
“So?” Moth Flight looked at him. “Last night I tried to save Tiny Branch’s life.”
“But he died.”
“I know he died!” Moth Flight snapped. “But Clear Sky saw us trying to save his kit. That must count for something. Even to a Clan leader!” Bitterness rose in her throat. She pushed past Reed Tail. “Look after Slate. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She raced from the den and charged across the tussocks.
“Moth Flight!” Spotted Fur called from outside her den.
She skidded to a halt, impatience burning in her paws.
“What?”
Honey Pelt and Bubbling Stream were wrestling on the grass while Blue Whisker and Spider Paw poked through the freshly stocked prey pile. Gorse Fur, Storm Pelt, Dew Nose, Fern Leaf, and Swift Minnow were back in camp. They lounged at the edge of the clearing, sharing a rabbit.
Spotted Fur headed toward her. “Where are you going?”
Moth Flight scanned the camp for Wind Runner before answering. There was no sign of the WindClan leader.
“You look worried.” Spotted Fur stopped in front of her.
“Slate’s got redcough,” Moth Flight told him. “I’m going to get some of that bark I got for Rocky when—” She stopped, her breath catching in her throat. She swayed on her paws. When Micah died. She’d been so worried about Slate, she hadn’t thought about it until now. Grief wrenched her heart.