“They’re all beautiful.” Moth Flight gazed at the black-and-white tom-kit, happy now as he nursed at Milkweed’s belly.
Shivering Rose nuzzled in beside him, her black pelt as fluffy as an owl chick’s, while Morning Fire squirmed closer, her dark brown fur camouflaged among the shadows.
Moth Flight glanced toward the empty nest on the other side of the den. It smelled warm. “Is that Apple Blossom and Snail
Shell’s nest?”
“They share it with their mother, Gooseberry,” Cloud Spots told her.
“There’s hardly room for them anymore,” Milkweed commented. “But there may be more space soon. The third nest belongs to Violet Dawn, and I think she wants to move to Thunder’s den.”
Moth Flight knew that Violet Dawn was a sleek dark gray she-cat who’d joined ThunderClan several moons ago. Thunder had taken her as his mate.
Cloud Spots narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Perhaps they should be building new nests instead of collecting moss for Pink
Eyes.”
A hoarse mew sounded outside the den. “Do you want me to go scavenging for my own bedding?”
Cloud Spots purred. “Pink Eyes’s sight may be weak, but his hearing is as sharp as ever.” He nodded toward the den entrance.
“Let’s leave Milkweed to rest.”
“Have you given her the borage?” Moth Flight asked.
Cloud Spots nodded to a pile of leaves beside her nest.
“She’s had one leaf and I’m leaving the rest in case she needs more.”
“Take some for your store,” Milkweed told him. “I won’t need it all.”
Cloud Spots glanced at the kits, suckling happily at her belly, and nodded. “Okay.” He grabbed a few leaves from the pile and nosed his way out of the den.
“Thanks for letting me see your kits,” Moth Flight mewed gratefully to the queen.
Milkweed purred. “There’s nothing better than being a mother.”
“I guess.” Moth Flight shrugged, wondering what could be better than roaming the moor alone, searching for new plants.
She couldn’t imagine being responsible for cats too helpless to look after themselves. But isn’t that what a medicine cat has to do? Her belly tightened as she followed Cloud Spots into the clearing. Then she saw Micah. He looked so handsome, a pool of sunshine creeping slowly across his flank. He was lying beside Pink Eyes, his attention fixed on the old tom as he listened.
“The squirrel was near the top of the tree,” Pink Eyes rumbled. “But I wasn’t going to let it get away. I followed it up.
Then, just as I scrambled onto the highest branch, there was—”
The old tom broke off and snapped his gaze toward the gorse.
A moment later, the barrier trembled and Thunder padded into camp. Lightning Tail trotted at his heels. The ThunderClan leader’s orange pelt glowed in the dappled sunlight. A rabbit hung from his jaws. Owl Eyes and Leaf followed, carrying prey.
“Good hunting, I see?” Cloud Spots nodded toward the rabbit.
Thunder dropped his catch. “Just wait until greenleaf.” His gaze slid toward Moth Flight.
Micah scrambled to his paws and shook out his dusty pelt. “I hope you don’t mind—”
Thunder dipped his head to Moth Flight. “We are honored by your visit.” He turned to Micah. “How is Clear Sky?”
“He’s fine.”
Lightning Tail grunted. “Does he still think he’s the best cat in the forest?”
“He knows his strengths,” Micah answered diplomatically.
Thunder snorted. “I bet he likes you.”
“He will,” Micah answered. “Eventually.”
Leaf was heading for the nursery. “Is Milkweed okay?” he called to Cloud Spots.
“She’s fine.”
Owl Eyes glanced toward the gorse barrier. “Violet Dawn asked me if you have any chervil. She’s had a bellyache all morning.”
“Where is she?” Cloud Spots’s eyes darkened with worry.
“She stopped to help Apple Blossom and Snail Shell gather moss,” Owl Eyes told him.
“I’ll get some for her,” Cloud Spots meowed. “There’s plenty in the forest.”
Micah narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you keep any in your store?”
Cloud Spots shrugged. “It’s better to pick fresh leaves this time of year,” he explained. “I’ll gather some to dry for my store in late greenleaf, when it’s starting to die back.”
Paw steps sounded beyond the gorse barrier and Thistle and Clover pushed their way into camp. They were dragging a fat wood pigeon between them.
Thunder swished his tail. “You managed to get it down the cliff!”
Clover sniffed. “Thistle threw it over the edge and we hauled it from the bottom.”
Moth Flight glanced at the battered bird, its wings splayed awkwardly. Feathers speckled the ground around it. “It was a good thing no one was underneath.”
Thistle sniffed. “Any cat who can’t hear a pigeon bouncing down a cliff needs his ears checked.”
Micah’s eyes flashed with amusement. “It looks like it hit every ledge on the way down.”
Pink Eyes padded to the pigeon and sniffed it. “At least it’ll be tender.”
Cloud Spots nodded toward the ferns. “Do you want to see my den before I go and gather chervil?”
Moth Flight nodded eagerly and followed as Cloud Spots headed across the clearing and pushed through a tunnel of ferns.
Moth Flight glanced at Micah as he stopped beside her.
“You go first.”
The yellow tom dipped his head and nosed his way after Cloud Spots. Moth Flight followed, padding through the fern tunnel, her belly fluttering with excitement. She could already smell Cloud Spot’s herbs. A small clearing opened ahead, edged by a cliff that stretched toward the top of the ravine. Water trickled down the rock, pooling at one edge, and a crack opened in the stone. Moth Flight padded toward it and sniffed, her nose twitching as the pungent herb scents grew stronger. “Do you keep your stores in there?” She peered into the darkness.
Cloud Spots brushed past her and reached into the crack. He pulled out a wad of leaves, neatly bundled and tied with grass.
He opened it and spread the herbs over the den floor.
Moth Flight glanced at them, hoping to recognize one. But they were forest herbs, lush and dark and musty-smelling.
“This is comfrey.” Cloud Spots pulled the largest leaf closer.
“I keep a few leaves in my store in case Pink Eyes is wakened in the night by aches. But the forest is full of it and I like to gather it fresh each day and line his nest with it.”
“What does it do?” Micah sniffed the furry leaf.
“It eases the pains in his joints,” Cloud Spots told him.
“Can you eat it?” Moth Flight asked.
“Yes, but wrapping sore limbs in the leaves works just as well,” Cloud Spots told her. “I’ve heard it even helps broken limbs to heal, though I’ve not yet had to try it.”
The ferns rustled and Leaf padded into the den. “Milkweed’s thirsty,” he meowed.
Cloud Spots jerked his muzzle around. “I’m sorry! I meant to give her fresh moss.”
Moth Flight frowned, puzzled. How could moss help thirst?
“I’ll take it to her.” Leaf padded toward the water pooling beside the rock. He hooked a lump of moss from a heap piled at one edge and dipped it in the water. He let it soak for a few moments, then grabbed it between his jaws and carried it, dripping, toward the fern tunnel.
As he disappeared, Moth Flight blinked. “She laps water from the moss!” Had she seen Reed Tail soaking moss in puddles on the moor? She must ask him when she got back. It was a great idea. Sick cats could stay in their nests and rest instead of roaming the moor in search of a drink.
Cloud Spots gathered up his herbs. “I’d better gather chervil for Violet Dawn. Come with me. I’ll show you some other herbs you might find useful.”