Reed Tail gazed at her fondly. “The spirit-cats chose you for a reason. I think they wanted someone who could do more than remember herbs.”
“Like what?” Moth Flight felt lost. She was up to her ears in plants and names and had no idea how she’d ever know the right herb in an emergency. What if a Clanmate died because she couldn’t remember? Panic sparked in her paws.
“You’ve only just begun,” Reed Tail told her softly.
Outside, Holly’s yowl rang across the clearing. “Where do you three think you’re going?”
“The kits!” Reed Tail headed for the entrance. “They’re probably trying to sneak out of camp again.” The gorse swished as he squeezed out of the den.
Moth Flight looked back at her herb piles, and began pushing the scattered leaves back together.
A cough sounded outside.
Rocky.
The old tom had been coughing for a few days. Moth Flight glanced at the empty nest at the side of the den, freshly woven from heather by Storm Pelt and Eagle Feather. It would be cozier than Rocky’s nest in the long grass. Even though newleaf was warming the moor, the nights were still chilly and the wind relentless. Perhaps a few nights’ sleep in the shelter of her den was all Rocky needed to recover. She hoped so; the tansy she’d given him last night clearly hadn’t worked and she didn’t know any other herb that might cure him.
“Rocky!” Moth Flight slid out of her den and crossed the clearing.
Rocky was weaving slowly among the tussocks, heading for the prey pile. He paused as she stopped beside him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not bad. I thought I might feel better if I had something to eat—” Rocky broke off, coughing. His shaggy shoulders heaved with the effort. Struggling to catch his breath, he looked at her, his gaze clouded with exhaustion.
Moth Flight pushed away worry. She must focus on curing Rocky; fretting wouldn’t help. Her thoughts quickened. He’d been heading for food. A hungry cat is a healthy cat. Her mother used to say that when she returned home with prey for Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” Rocky shrugged. “I just thought a small bite of shrew might help.” He gazed at her bleakly.
“I think you’d better move into my den,” Moth Flight mewed briskly. “There’s a nice, clean nest for you and it’ll be warm.” And I can keep an eye on you. His lack of appetite worried her. Perhaps I need to give him more tansy. She wished Dappled Pelt were here. Or Pebble Heart. They might know what to do. I bet even Micah knows more than me. As she steered Rocky gently toward her den, she thought of the yellow tom. Her pelt prickled with warmth. She’d be seeing him before long, at the half-moon gathering at Highstones. She paused and waited for Rocky to squeeze into her den. Following, she pointed her muzzle to the heather nest. “Rest there while I fetch you more tansy.”
As Rocky climbed in and began to knead the heather, Moth
Flight turned toward her herbs. Perhaps I gave him the wrong one. She sniffed at the curly green leaves she’d shredded for him last night. It was definitely tansy. She felt sure. She grabbed a bunch between her jaws and crossed the den. Dropping it on the edge of Rocky’s nest, she leaned close and felt heat pulsing from his pelt. He has a fever. “Eat these.” She pushed the tansy closer and headed back to her herbs. Frustration tightened her belly. She knew there must be something here to help his fever, but what?
Rocky lapped at the leaves, swallowing, then coughing harder than ever.
Moth Flight stared at him anxiously. The tansy wasn’t helping!
Catmint. The name flashed in her mind. Micah had mentioned it! He’d said it would help Tiny Branch’s cough! It looks a bit like nettles but the leaves are smaller and they don’t sting. You’ll know if you ever see some. It smells great. He’d said it grew by the Twoleg barn. Rocky began to wheeze. The farm was too far to travel. She needed to find some quickly.
Would there be any around the Twoleg nests beyond the forest?
“Try to rest,” she told Rocky. “I’m going to hunt for herbs.”
She watched the old tom settle stiffly into his nest. His pelt was clumped and his gaze dull. I wish I knew how to make him feel better. “Shall I fetch you something from the prey pile before I go?”
Rocky grunted. “I don’t think I can swallow.”
“Is your throat sore?”
“Like I swallowed hot nettles.” Rocky laid his muzzle on the edge of his nest and shook as he fought back a cough.
“I won’t be long!” Moth Flight raced from her den. She’d be lucky if she made it to Twolegplace before sunhigh. She bounded over the tussocky clearing.
“Moth Flight!” Dust Muzzle called from rocks near the entrance. He was chewing on a vole. Spotted Fur lay beside him, washing his face.
She slewed to a halt. “What?”
“Where are you going?” Dust Muzzle padded toward her.
“I need to find catmint.”
“For Rocky?” Dust Muzzle looked toward her den. “I saw you take him to your den.”
“It will help his cough,” Moth Flight explained.
Spotted Fur crossed the grass toward them. “Where are you going to look?”
“Twolegplace,” Moth Flight told him.
An excited squeak sounded from behind the rocks and Black
Ear scrambled onto the highest stone. “Can we come?”
Moth Flight blinked at him. “No! It’s too far.”
“But I’m bored,” the kit complained.
Reed Tail stuck his head up from behind the rocks and nudged the kit with his muzzle. “I’ll take you out on the moor when Slate wakes up,” he promised.
Moth Flight blinked at him. “Was Swift Minnow busy?”
“She was tired from hunting,” Reed Tail told her. “She said a tom was as good as a—”
Black Ear interrupted. “Perhaps Slate will come with us!”
“No way. She’s always too tired.” Silver Stripe scrambled up beside her brother. “Can we hunt on the moor?”
“Teach us some hunting moves!” White Tail leaped onto the rock. “I want to catch a rabbit.”
“They’re bigger than you!” Reed Tail teased.
“Reed Tail!” Holly called from the prey pile. “There are three fat mice here. Do you know any cat who might want one?”
“Me!” Silver Stripe leaped from the rock and began scrambling over the tussocks.
“I want the fattest one!” Black Ear chased after his sister.
“You are the fattest one!” White Tail hared after them.
Reed Tail glanced at Moth Flight. “I hope Slate says it’s okay to take them out of camp. They have more energy than a nest of squirrels.”
Moth Flight watched him trudge after the kits, grateful that he’d taken them off her paws. She turned back to Spotted Fur.
The tom’s amber gaze clouded with worry.
“Twolegplace is a long way. You’ll have to cross Clear Sky’s forest.”
“I’ll be okay,” Moth Flight reassured him. “Clear Sky doesn’t mind cats crossing his borders anymore. Besides, I’m a medicine cat now. I’m only hunting for herbs.”
Dust Muzzle frowned. “What if you run into rogues in Twolegplace?”
“And there are Thunderpaths,” Spotted Fur added anxiously.
“We’d better come with you.” Dust Muzzle shook out his pelt.
Moth Flight blinked at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting today?”
Spotted Fur paced around her. “We can hunt on the way back.”
Moth Flight wondered if she’d travel faster alone, but it made sense to take help. When she reached Twolegplace, she’d have to sniff out catmint, and three noses would be better than one. “Okay!” She whisked her tail. “Thanks.” Heading for the entrance, she broke into a run.