Pebble Heart stiffened. “She said just two or three.”
“I want to sleep until the pain stops.” Moth Flight gazed at him wearily.
“I’ll sit with you.”
“No. I need to be alone.”
“Then I’ll check on you in a while.”
Moth Flight tucked her nose onto her paws and closed her eyes. Blackness came as a relief. She flattened her ears, blocking out the calling of the birds overhead and the sound of paw steps outside the den. She wished the darkness would swallow her completely and quench the pain blazing in her heart and scorching deep in her belly.
Her thoughts began to slow as the poppy took hold. She heard Pebble Heart’s fur brush the den entrance as he left, then felt herself drifting into sleep.
She opened her eyes to find herself back at the Moonstone.
No! Not again. Weariness dragged at her bones. Grief weighed in her heart like a stone. I don’t want to dream.
Paw steps brushed rock as two cats entered the cave. A small dark gray she-cat whose brilliant blue eyes sparkled in the gloom, and a flame-pelted tom.
Moth Flight stared at them blankly. She didn’t even try to speak. They’d never hear her. This was just another dream, like the dream of the other blue-gray she-cat, and the dark tom who’d shown such scorn for his ancestors. She glanced up at the hole in the roof, unsurprised to see the edge of the moon nudging into view. In a few moments the Moonstone would light up and the spirit-cats would come. The flame-pelted tom crouched before the Moonstone and touched his nose to it. The gray she-cat stepped away and Moth Flight narrowed her eyes, preparing for the explosion of moonlight.
When it came, she hardly flinched as the light blinded her.
As it faded, she gazed around. Trees had replaced the stone walls of the cave; but this wasn’t ShadowClan’s forest. She was in the Fourtrees clearing. The flame-pelted tom stood at the foot of the great rock, his gray companion hanging back as stars swirled overhead.
Moth Flight watched them whirl against the night sky, spiraling down toward the clearing.
The flame-pelted tom backed away, his pelt bristling with alarm. Didn’t he know that these were the spirit-cats come to share with him?
The stars spun, melting into one another as they neared the ground, until they blazed like white fire.
Moth Flight blinked as cats emerged from the silver flames, their starry pelts more brilliant than ever. As they padded across the clearing, the white fire faded behind them.
The flame-pelted tom blinked at them, his eyes lighting in recognition. He lifted his tail and Moth Flight saw joy warm his gaze.
A golden tom padded forward, his thick fur like a mane around his head.
The flame-pelted tom greeted him. They exchanged words
Moth Flight could not hear. Then the golden tom reached out his starry muzzle and touched the tom’s head.
The tom jerked as though fire seared him.
This is just like the others.
Moth Flight frowned. Why did she keep dreaming this, and always with different cats?
A red bushy-tailed tom approached the flame-pelted cat next, sending another spasm through him as he touched his nose to the tom’s head. Then a beautiful silver-pelted she-cat took his place. A lithe tabby tom followed. His touch set the flame-pelted tom’s fur rippling as though he were running through wind.
Why do I keep seeing this? Moth Flight’s paws itched with frustration. What does it mean?
Four more cats approached, each one’s touch scorching through the tom as though it had sparked lightning. And yet, as each spasm ended, the tom stood stronger, his chin higher.
He met the gaze of the last cat with eyes suddenly misted with emotion.
Moth Flight froze as the pretty tortoiseshell padded closer.
Micah looked at me like that. She recognized love in the tom’s bright green eyes. The tortoiseshell’s amber gaze reflected it back with such intensity that Moth Flight’s breath stopped in her throat.
Grief swamped her. He’s in love with a dead cat! As shock jolted through her, she searched the starry ranks. Was Micah here? Would she have a chance to share such a look with him?
She recognized no cat.
Please come! Why couldn’t she make her dreams do what she wanted? She could only stand by, unheard and unseen, and witness what she could not understand.
It’s not fair!
Her throat tightened as she saw the tortoiseshell stretch her muzzle toward the flame-pelted tom.
He met her gaze, his eyes burning with joy and grief.
Her touch made his pelt glow, as though filling him with moonlight. He leaned in to her, unflinching.
Stop! Moth Flight backed away. She couldn’t bear to watch a moment longer. This all meant nothing! She didn’t know these cats! Why should she care? All she wanted was to see Micah, but she couldn’t!
Hissing, she lashed out a forepaw and slashed through the vision of the tortoiseshell. It was like raking starlit water. The light shattered into countless ripples and faded from view.
A wail welling in her throat, Moth Flight struggled into consciousness. Heart burning with loss, she blinked open her eyes into Sun Shadow’s hollow den.
Chapter 23
Moth Flight felt a paw push her shoulder. She struggled awake, her mouth dry, her eyes sticky with sleep.
“Moth Flight?” Pebble Heart sounded worried. “Are you okay?”
She lifted her head groggily and blinked at the dawn sunshine filtering into the den. “I’m…”
Pebble Heart’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m not used to giving poppy seeds,” he admitted. “I was worried you’d sleep for days.”
Moth Flight looked around, surprised by the dark brambles enclosing her nest. Where was the gorse?
A sick feeling hit her belly like rotten prey. “Micah’s dead.”
She stared at Pebble Heart, a tiny spark of hope flickering beneath her pelt. Perhaps she’d dreamed it all.
But the medicine cat’s amber eyes glistened with sympathy.
He leaned down and picked up a wad of dripping moss and laid it on the edge of her nest. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
Sadness swamped Moth Flight as she remembered the pool in Cloud Spots’s den. Micah had still been with her then. She lapped at the moss, her tongue welcoming the moisture.
“I brought you food too.” Pebble Heart draped a mouse over the side of her nest. It was still warm, freshly killed.
Moth Flight wrinkled her nose. “I’m not hungry.”
“But you must eat,” Pebble Heart reasoned.
“Why?” Moth Flight snorted rebelliously. “If I starve, I can join Micah in StarClan.”
“You mustn’t say that!” Pebble Heart’s eyes widened.
“Why not?” Anger rolled deep in Moth Flight’s belly.
“What about your Clanmates? And the other Clans?” Pebble Heart stared at her fiercely. “StarClan shared the secret of the Moonstone with you. You’re important!”
“And Micah’s not?” Moth Flight growled.
Pebble Heart stared at her sadly. “Perhaps he’s supposed to be with them.”
“His destiny,” she muttered bitterly. She pictured the rolling meadows of StarClan’s hunting grounds. Was Micah going to spend forever chasing spirit-rabbits while she worked her paws to the bone taking care of her Clanmates? “What about me?