Moth Flight followed his gaze. Small holes had been hollowed from the mud, and green leaves stuck out here and there.
“There’s a different hole for each herb.” Dappled Pelt’s eyes shone proudly.
“Doesn’t the damp air make them rot?” Moth Flight was used to the dry winds that scoured the moor.
“It’s airy enough,” Dappled Pelt told her. “The breeze from the river keeps it cool, which seems to preserve fresh leaves, and I find that fresh leaves are more effective than dried leaves.”
Micah frowned. “It’s a shame,” he murmured. “Leafbare brings more illness. But by then, all we’ll have left in our supplies are dried leaves.”
“Seeds and berries keep their strength.” Dappled Pelt reached into one of the holes and pulled out a pawful of dark berries. She dropped them at Moth Flight’s paws.
As Dappled Pelt drew out one herb after another, telling them where they could be gathered and what they treated—juniper for bellyache, poppy to ease pain—Moth Flight tried hard to remember them, sniffing their pungent leaves, rolling their seeds beneath her paw, fixing the scents in her mind. She couldn’t wait to get home and start scouring the moor.
Micah nosed past Dappled Pelt and sniffed a wide, furry leaf. “What’s this?”
As Dappled Pelt turned to see, a yowl split the air outside the den.
“Help!”
Moth Flight froze as Night skidded down the slope into the den. Her eyes were wide with terror. “You have to come! I just pulled Drizzle from the river—she’s not breathing!”
Chapter 19
Dappled Pelt darted past her Clanmate. Micah hared after her.
Panic flashing beneath her pelt, Moth Flight followed.
Dappled Pelt was already skidding through a gap in the camp wall as Moth Flight reached the clearing. Micah raced at her heels. Moth Flight gave chase, blood roaring in her ears. She leaped through the gap and pulled up sharply as the river loomed in front of her.
Dawn Mist was standing at the water’s edge, her eyes hollow with dread. Water dripped from her fur and she trembled like frightened prey. A sodden scrap of fur lay at her paws.
Drizzle! Moth Flight’s heart leaped into her throat.
Dappled Pelt dropped into a crouch beside the unmoving kit.
Micah leaned close. “Is she dead?”
Dappled Pelt jerked her nose toward Dawn Mist. “Keep her warm. She’s in shock.”
Micah hurried to Dawn Mist’s side and pressed against her.
Moth Flight’s paws seemed frozen to the ground as she stared at Drizzle. The tiny kit’s flank wasn’t moving. “She’s not breathing!” She stared at Dappled Pelt. Why did the RiverClan medicine cat look so calm?
Dappled Pelt’s gaze flitted over Drizzle’s body, then she lifted her forepaws and rested them on the she-kit’s chest.
Moth Flight watched, eyes stretched wide, as Dappled Pelt began pumping the kit with rapid jerks of her paws. “What are you doing?” How could squashing the poor kit help?
Dappled Pelt ignored her. She paused and leaned down, sniffing at Drizzle’s muzzle. Then, straightening, she began to pump the kit’s chest again.
Drizzle’s body shuddered with each jolt, her paws flapping limply, like the paws of a dead rabbit.
Dappled Pelt paused again and sniffed at Drizzle’s nose.
Dawn Mist let out a low moan. “She’s dead!”
“No,” Dappled Pelt, growled fiercely. “Not yet.” Once more she rested her paws on Drizzle’s chest and began pumping.
Suddenly, with a splutter, Drizzle jerked and began coughing up water. Dappled Pelt quickly rolled the kit onto her side, stroking her chest fiercely as Drizzle brought up more water.
“Drizzle?” Dawn Mist’s mew was no more than a breath.
Drizzle stopped vomiting and blinked at her mother. “What happened?” she croaked weakly.
Pine Needle stuck his nose out from behind a clump of reeds. “Is she okay?” His eyes were bright with terror.
Dawn Mist beckoned him closer. “She’s fine.” She looked anxiously at Dappled Pelt. “Isn’t she?”
“Yes. Now that she’s coughed up the water, she’ll be able to breathe again,” Dappled Pelt told her briskly.
Moth Flight stared at the River Clan medicine cat. She wasn’t even trembling. How does she stay so calm?
Pine Needle hurried to his mother’s side and pressed against her flank. “She wanted to see if she could catch her own fish.
But she disappeared under the water,” he mewed shakily. “I called Night when she didn’t come up again.”
“She needs to learn to swim before she catches a fish.” River Ripple brushed past Moth Flight.
She spun, her heart lurching at the sight of the RiverClan leader. She hadn’t heard his paw steps.
He touched his muzzle to Dawn Mist’s cheek. “Start teaching them as soon as Drizzle has recovered.”
Dawn Mist met his gaze, her eyes glistening. “I wanted to wait until they were stronger.”
“Fish swim the moment they are born,” River Ripple murmured. “It’s never too soon for a RiverClan kit to learn.”
Drizzle pushed herself uncertainly to her paws.
Dawn Mist leaned down and lapped her cheek. “Let’s get you into my nest and warm you up.” She nosed the kit toward the clearing.
River Ripple ran his tail along Pine Needle’s spiked fur.
“You did well to fetch help.”
“I only called to Night.”
“That was the right thing to do,” River Ripple told him.
Pine Needle stared at him uncertainly. “I shouldn’t have let her go into the water.”
River Ripple touched his muzzle to the kit’s head.
“Sometimes we can’t stop others from making mistakes. But we can help them when they do. And that’s what you did.” He nosed the kit after his mother, who was lifting Drizzle into a reed nest on the far side of the clearing.
Dappled Pelt watched her leader as he guided Pine Needle away. “He’s so good with the kits,” she murmured. “It’s a shame he doesn’t have any of his own.”
Moth Flight hardly heard her. “How did you know what to do?”
“River Ripple taught me,” she explained. “He’s lived near the water all his life and he knows that you can push water out of a cat’s chest as easily as a cat can suck it in.”
Micah swished his tail through the air. “You were fantastic! I thought Drizzle was dead.”
Dappled Pelt gazed at the river as it swirled past. “It’s a trick every RiverClan cat should know.”
Admiration surged beneath Moth Flight’s pelt. I hope I’m as calm and skilled as Dappled Pelt one day! How must it feel to save another cat’s life? She wondered if Half Moon had been watching. I’ll try to become as good as she is, she promised silently.
Clouds hid the setting sun. A thin drizzle misted the river and a breeze rustled the reeds around camp.
Moth Flight shifted closer to Micah as the damp wind licked her pelt. She eyed Night, who was watching them warily from the other side of the clearing. Dawn Mist was still curled in her nest, tucked among the rushes. River Ripple had gone hunting for shrews in the reed beds with Dawn Mist’s mate, Swift. “Are you sure we should stay the night?” Moth Flight whispered.
“Of course!” Micah looked up from washing his belly.
“Look how much we learned today! Tomorrow we’ll learn even more.”
Moth Flight was glad he was with her. She liked the RiverClan cats, but it felt strange to be away from the hollow.
After she’d returned from the valley, she thought she’d never leave her Clanmates again. “Do you think River Ripple will catch a shrew?” she mewed hopefully.