He watched her walk toward Wind Runner. Spotted Fur had slid from the heather and was gazing hopefully across the hillside. Slate stopped beside them, dipping her head to the leader.
As the two she-cats exchanged greetings, movement caught Gray Wing’s eye. A rabbit had darted from behind a tussock and was speeding across the grass. It was too far away for Wind Runner and Spotted Fur to reach. But Gorse Fur had seen it and was charging up the slope. The rabbit streaked toward Moth Flight.
Moth Flight, look! Gray Wing tensed. The young she-cat was still gazing into the sky. Silently he urged her to turn her head. The rabbit was veering away, heading upslope to the safety of the moortop burrows. Moth Flight didn’t move. Couldn’t she hear its paws? Frustration surged in Gray Wing’s belly. He broke into a run. If he cut off the rabbit’s escape, he could steer it straight into Moth Flight’s path. She’d have to see it then. He ran, the damp air searing his lungs. The breathlessness he’d suffered for moons had grown worse with the coming of leaf-bare. Pain gripped his chest, but he kept running, pelt fluffed as he tried desperately to make an imposing silhouette against the skyline, enough to scare the rabbit into changing course.
It’s working! Hope surged through his fur. The rabbit’s eyes sparked with fear, and it skidded wildly away from him.
Moth Flight stood, face to the sky, and stared dreamily upward.
She must hear it’s close by now! The ground seemed to tremble with the thrumming of its paws.
Even Wind Runner, Spotted Fur, and Slate had turned to watch. Gorse Fur was still chasing, too far behind, eyes fixed on the rabbit.
“Moth Flight!” Gray Wing yowled as the rabbit streaked past her. She turned and blinked at him, oblivious as the rabbit shot past her and disappeared over a rise.
Gray Wing pulled up, his paws slithering on the wet grass, and stopped a tail-length away from Moth Flight. He glared at her. “What in all the stars are you doing?” His lungs burned as he struggled for breath.
She blinked at him anxiously. “Are you okay?” She hurried toward him and sniffed at his muzzle.
“Does your breathing hurt again?”
“I’m fine,” he gasped. Didn’t the foolish young cat even realize what she’d done?
Her eyes widened. “You should sit down and rest.”
As she spoke, Gorse Fur thundered past her, his eyes fixed on the rise where the rabbit had disappeared. He chased it, tail streaming behind.
Moth Flight stared after her father, confusion showing in her round gaze.
“Didn’t you see it?” Gray Wing puffed.
“See what?”
Anger flared in Gray Wing’s belly. “Taste the air! Its scent is everywhere.”
Obediently, Moth Flight opened her mouth, her pink tongue showing between her teeth. “A rabbit!” she gasped, her eyes widening suddenly.
Gray Wing could hardly believe his ears. “How did you miss it?”
“I’m so sorry!” She jerked her head around, scanning the grassy moorside, but the rabbit had long disappeared over the rise, followed by Gorse Fur.
Wind Runner charged toward them.
Moth Flight shifted her paws self-consciously as her mother stopped and stared at her accusingly.
“I was watching clouds,” she murmured. “One looked just like a rabbit.”
Gray Wing glanced at the sky, where the clouds were piling so thickly now that he was amazed she could make out any shape at all. “If you’d been watching the moorside, you’d have seen a real rabbit,” he snapped.
Wind Runner growled. “Moth Flight! How many times have I told you that when you’re hunting you have to concentrate?”
Moth Flight bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t feed your campmates!” Wind Runner’s ears twitched.
“I’ll try harder next time,” Moth Flight promised.
“You said that last time!” Wind Runner hissed.
Gray Wing felt a sudden wave of sympathy for Moth Flight as she gazed pitifully at her mother.
Perhaps the young cat just wasn’t cut out to be a hunter. She might be more use in camp, clearing out bedding and building new dens. He flicked his tail toward the hollow. “Why don’t you see if Reed and Minnow need you to fetch more heather?” He had left the pair weaving a shelter against the camp wall, threading heather stems into the gorse to make a den. Dust Muzzle was helping them. Perhaps he should have brought Dust Muzzle on the patrol instead of Moth Flight. The young tom was a far more accomplished hunter than his sister.
Moth Flight blinked at him eagerly. “Let me follow the rabbit’s trail. Please! I have a good nose.
I’m sure I can find where it’s gone.”
Wind Runner snorted. “It’ll be deep in a burrow by now. You’re probably mouse-brained enough to follow it in and get lost. Then we’ll have to send a search party to find you.”
Moth Flight seemed to shrink inside her pelt.
Gray Wing’s heart twisted. “Perhaps we can follow its trail together—”
As he spoke, Gorse Fur appeared on the rise. The rabbit was clamped between the tom’s jaws.
“You caught it!” Gray Wing purred.
Gorse Fur slowed as he neared them, and laid the rabbit beside Wind Runner.
Moth Flight’s gaze shone with guilt. “I’m sorry for being such a mouse-brain.”
“No harm done,” Gorse Fur meowed breezily.
Wind Runner lashed her tail. “What if you hadn’t been here to fix Moth Flight’s mistakes?” She glared at her mate.
Gorse Fur met her stare calmly. “She’s still young.”
“She’s old enough to stop a rabbit when it practically trips over her,” Wind Runner snapped.
Moth Flight glanced anxiously from her mother to her father. “I promise, I won’t do it again.”
Wind Runner snorted. “You will, so long as your father keeps making excuses for you.”
“You’re too hard on her, Wind Runner,” Gorse Fur objected.
“Somebody needs to be, or she’ll never learn to hunt.”
Gray Wing turned away, leaving the family to settle their squabble in private, and headed back along the slope.
Slate padded to meet him. “Is everything okay?” She glanced toward Wind Runner.
Gray Wing kept walking. “Gorse Fur caught the rabbit.” He spoke slowly, trying to disguise his breathlessness.
Slate fell in beside him. “Wind Runner doesn’t look too pleased.”
“She thinks Moth Flight should have caught it.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“I shouldn’t have chased the rabbit right toward her,” Gray Wing murmured. “I should have known Moth Flight was unreliable.”
Slate nudged his shoulder gently with her muzzle as they walked side by side. “Don’t blame yourself for a kit’s mistake.”
He shot her a look, his worry over Moth Flight melting as he saw warmth in her gaze. “I guess she’ll grow out of her daydreaming eventually,” he conceded.
“Of course she will.” Slate glanced toward the hollow. “Should we go back to camp?” There was anxiety in her mew.
Gray Wing tensed. Had she heard him wheezing? “We should catch more prey first.”
“The others can manage without us for a while,” Slate argued. “Besides, it’s a good chance for Moth Flight to practice hunting.”
Ahead, Spotted Fur was sniffing the roots of a gorse bush. He lifted his muzzle as they neared.
“The prey-scent is so stale I can hardly smell anything.”
“Look by the high burrows,” Gray Wing suggested. He pointed his nose toward Moth Flight, her white pelt moving over the grass like a tiny cloud as she trailed behind Wind Runner and Gorse Fur.