Wind Runner met his gaze accusingly. “Clearly, your Clan is stealing prey from our land.”
Micah shrugged. “How do you know it didn’t just stray across the border by itself?”
Wind Runner lashed her tail. “Willow Tail said she’d seen
SkyClan cats on the moor earlier.”
Micah flashed a look at the pale tabby she-cat, who watched through narrowed eyes from beside Dust Muzzle. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves SkyClan can’t be trusted,” Wind Runner snarled.
Moth Flight stepped between her mother and Micah. “I trust
Micah!” she growled. “I need his help.”
Wind Runner’s ears twitched. “One day, you’re going to have to stand on your own four paws.”
“One day I will. But not today.” Moth Flight grabbed the herb bundle and marched to her den, Micah at her heels.
Inside, Rocky was shivering in his nest. His matted fur clung to his frame. He looked old and weak. Moth Flight’s heart quickened.
Reed Tail and Swift Minnow crouched beside him.
“How long has he been like this?” Moth Flight asked Reed Tail.
“He took a turn for the worse last night.”
The old tom writhed in the heather, his eyes rolling. “When will leafbare end?” he gasped. “It’s so cold!”
How did he get so sick? Is he dying? Thoughts racing, Moth Flight dropped the herbs and thrust her muzzle close to his.
Warmth pulsed from his nose. Panic flashed through her. What do I do first? Words came. “We need to cool him down.”
Dappled Pelt had warned her that fevers could be deadly. She turned to Swift Minnow. “Go and find as much moss as you can carry and soak it in a puddle, then bring it back.”
“I’m so cold!” Rocky’s teeth chattered as Swift Minnow raced from the den.
“What can I do?” Reed Tail asked.
“Go with her.”
“Don’t you need me here?” Reed Tail frowned anxiously.
“I’ve got Micah,” Moth Flight told him. “We’ve learned a lot since we left.”
Reed Tail nodded and headed out of the den.
Moth Flight hooked a claw through the grass stem that gripped her bundle and snapped it open. The leaves unrolled and herb scents bathed her nose. She stared at them, panic pricking her paws. Which one is which? What are they for? Her thoughts whirled as she desperately tried to recall Cloud Spots’s training.
“Come on,” she hissed to herself under her breath.
“Remember!”
Micah’s pelt brushed hers. “Feverfew might help,” he murmured.
Feverfew! Of course! But which one is it? She scanned the leaves, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Then she recognized the delicate scalloped leaves that Cloud Spots had helped her pick yesterday.
“Rocky!” She spoke to the tom sternly, hoping he’d understand. “I need you to swallow some leaves, okay?”
He stared at her through clouded eyes, shivering.
“Do you think you can do that?” If Rocky chewed them and spat them out, they’d be wasted. She’d have to return to the forest to fetch more, and there wasn’t time.
Rocky stared at her blankly.
Micah leaned forward and rested his muzzle on Rocky’s head. “It’s just like eating prey,” he murmured softly.
Rocky grew still. “Like eating prey,” he echoed.
Moth Flight lifted the feverfew to Rocky’s lips with a hooked claw. “Just swallow these and you’ll feel a bit better.”
Micah lapped the old tom’s head. “Just a few leaves,” he soothed.
Obediently Rocky nibbled the herb from Moth Flight’s claws.
“Come on,” Micah urged gently. “They’ll go down easy.”
Relief washed Moth Flight’s pelt as Rocky lapped the leaves down. She stared gratefully at Micah. “Thank you.”
“Sick cats are like kits,” he told her. “A little gentleness goes a long way.”
Moth Flight gazed at Rocky as he slumped deeper into his nest. “What’s wrong with him? He’s not coughing anymore.”
“Listen to his chest,” Micah suggested. “Even when Tiny
Branch stopped coughing, I could hear him wheezing inside.”
Moth Flight leaned into the nest, relieved to feel less warmth seeping from Rocky’s pelt. At least the feverfew was working.
She pressed her ear to his rib cage and listened. It sounded as though water was bubbling up inside. She sat up, alarmed. “He’s drowning, like Drizzle!”
Micah’s eyes widened. “He can’t be. He hasn’t swallowed any water.”
“There’s water in his chest!” Moth Flight gasped. “I can hear it.”
Micah leaned down and listened, his eyes dark with worry as he straightened. “There must be infection inside.”
Moth Flight’s belly felt hollow. “What can we do?” She stared desperately at Micah. Then she remembered what Cloud
Spots had told them on their way home from the Moonstone.
“The tree!” She stared at Micah. “The one with the oozing sap!
On your territory!”
“Of course!” Micah lifted his tail. “Cloud Spots said it’d cure any cough. Surely it would cure Rocky’s chest infection!”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Yes!”
“You’re brilliant!” Moth Flight pressed her muzzle against
Micah’s cheek, purring. She drew back. “Where is it?”
He nodded. “I took Acorn Fur looking for it. It wasn’t hard to find. Its sap smells as strong as pine, but sweeter.”
“We must go there now!” Moth Flight’s paws itched.
“We?” Micah hesitated. “Perhaps I should go alone. Wind Runner won’t want you going to SkyClan territory.”
“I’m coming with you!” She had to see where the tree was.
One day her Clan might depend on it. And Rocky needed it now. She lifted her chin. Wind Runner wasn’t going to stop her from being the best medicine cat she could be. “We won’t tell Wind Runner where we’re going. Let’s hurry.” She glanced at Rocky, who was worryingly still, his flanks hardly moving.
Micah followed her gaze, then nodded. “Come on.” He hared out of the den. Moth Flight raced after him. They crossed the clearing in a few bounds.
“Where are you going?” Dust Muzzle’s mew echoed after them as they headed through the entrance.
“We won’t be long!” Moth Flight called back evasively.
They raced down the moorside, Moth Flight taking the lead and burning trails through the heather. She reached the SkyClan border, her chest on fire. “Which way?”
Micah pelted past her. “Follow me.”
Moth Flight chased him through the wall of ferns and around a clump of brambles. He cleared a rotting log in one bound. She scrambled over it and kept running, digging in her paws to catch up as he disappeared over a rise. She followed, her heart lurching as the ground opened into a ditch. Her forepaws slipped over the edge. She pushed hard with her hind legs and soared over the gap. Landing heavily, she sent leaves swirling behind her. Micah was still running and she chased after him, determined not to lose sight. He swerved past an ancient oak and followed a gully that cut into a glade. The trees thinned and sunlight streamed in. Bluebells misted the ground, turning the forest floor purple.
“This is it!” Micah slowed and circled a tall tree at the bottom of the glade. “The bark at the base is too old,” he meowed. “I’ll have to climb to the top where there are tender stems.”
Moth Flight scrambled to a halt, her heart pounding. “It’s so tall! Can you climb trees?”
“I don’t know! I’ve never tried.” Micah peered up through the leafy branches. “It can’t be harder than the barn ladder.”