Bluestar's Prophecy (22 page)

As the sun set the following
day, Bluefur was on her way to find Snowfur with a vole to share when she nearly tripped over Thistleclaw, dozing beside the nettle patch. He had sat up all night with Sweetpaw’s body, Rosepaw and Poppydawn grieving beside him, and then buried her before dawn.

“He insisted on doing it himself, with no help,” Snowfur whispered to Bluefur when she made it safely around the sleeping warrior with the vole. “He’s such a loyal brother.”

“You told me earlier,” Bluefur muttered. She was trying to ignore the dreamy look in her sister’s eyes.
I’ll never behave like a cooing dove over any cat
, she decided.

As the Clan shared tongues at the edges of the clearing, Bluefur basked in the cool evening breeze. She was relieved that the fierce greenleaf sun was disappearing behind the top of the ravine. She didn’t envy Sunfall and Featherwhisker their parched journey from the Moonstone today. If all went well, they would be back soon, hungry and thirsty.

She was just sitting up to check whether there was some decent fresh-kill left for them when stones clattered down the side of the ravine beyond the gorse tunnel. Adderfang got to
his paws and stared expectantly at the entrance to the camp. Stormtail gulped the last of his mouse and licked his lips. Larksong sat up stiffly and pricked her ears.

Bluefur tasted Sunfall’s scent a moment before he padded into camp with Featherwhisker following.

Speckletail was the first to speak. “What did StarClan say?” she blurted out, getting to her paws.

Sunfall padded across the clearing and mounted Highrock. All eyes turned to the orange warrior, who already looked comfortable on the gray stone. “Clanmates,” Sunfall began, “StarClan has approved me as leader and given me nine lives.”

Cheers erupted from the Clan. “Sunstar! Sunstar! Sunstar!” they called to the darkening sky.

“Sunstar!” Bluefur yowled gleefully, feeling a rush of pride in her former mentor. Then something caught her eye, and she closed her mouth with a snap.

Why wasn’t Goosefeather joining in with Sunstar’s welcome?

The medicine cat sat at the base of Highrock, his eyes dark, searching the faces of his Clanmates. When his gaze reached her, cold and burning at the same time, Bluefur blinked and began cheering once more.

Sunstar signaled with his tail to one of the cats below him. “Tawnyspots, I would like you to be my deputy.”

The light gray tabby tom dipped his head. “I would be honored, Sunstar. I will serve you well and will always be loyal to my Clan above everything.”

Rosepaw nudged her mentor, her eyes shining, while
Stormtail nodded respectfully to the new ThunderClan deputy.

“Congratulations.” Adderfang’s deep mew sounded across the clearing and was quickly echoed by his Clanmates.

“There is one more duty I wish to perform today as the new ThunderClan leader.”

The Clan looked up as Sunstar spoke.

“Rosepaw fought bravely against RiverClan and has earned her warrior name.”

The young tabby flicked her tail as Poppydawn hurried to her side and began smoothing her fur. Windflight gazed proudly at his daughter, though Bluefur could see sadness lingering in his gaze. Sweetpaw should have been a warrior today, too.

Sunstar stayed on Highrock as Rosepaw padded into the center of the clearing. “Rosepaw, from this moment you will be known as Rosetail. StarClan honors your intelligence and loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan. Serve your Clan well.”

Rosetail dipped her head as her Clanmates called her name.

Tawnyspots padded forward and pressed his muzzle between her ears. “I’m very proud of you,” he murmured.

Sunstar spoke again. “ThunderClan has kits in the nursery, and the warriors’ den is full. We face troubles, it is true. RiverClan pushes at our borders, and kittypets threaten our prey. But the Clan is well fed, and the forest is rich in prey. I vow to make ThunderClan as powerful as the great Clans of old. Today’s ThunderClan will be remembered alongside
TigerClan and LionClan. Our warriors are courageous and loyal and skilled in battle. There is no reason to feel besieged by our enemies. We have defeated them before and we will do so again. Let me carry you forward to a new era in which ThunderClan is so respected and feared that no cat will dare set paw on our lands.”

When will he take back Sunningrocks?
Bluefur pressed her claws into the earth. She wanted to see the look on Oakheart’s arrogant face as they drove those thieving fox-hearts back across the border.

Tails swished and paws kneaded the ground. “Sunstar! Sunstar!” The cheer rose again from the excited Clan.

Sunstar lifted his chin, his pelt gleaming in the moonlight, and let his Clan cheer until the trees seemed to tremble with the noise.

Bluefur longed to be standing in his paw prints. He had lifted his Clan from anxiety to hope. Imagine being up there, looking down at his Clanmates—the power he must feel. Her mouth felt dry with sudden, raw hunger.

Beside her, Thistleclaw leaned closer to Snowfur and whispered in her ear. Pricking her ears, Bluefur strained to hear.

“I’m going to be up there one day,” hissed the young warrior, “addressing the Clan.”

As Snowfur purred encouragingly, Bluefur felt the fur lift along her spine.
Not if I get there first!

“Thrushpelt!” Tawnyspots was organizing the patrols. Dawn had not yet broken, and the camp glowed in the half-
light. “Take Speckletail, Fuzzypelt, White-eye, and Bluefur to patrol the RiverClan border. Stormtail, Robinwing, and Thistleclaw, patrol ShadowClan’s boundary.”

Stormtail nodded and led his patrol toward the gorse barrier.

Thrushpelt leaned toward Bluefur, his whiskers twitching. “I hope Snowfur can manage without Thistleclaw for a few heartbeats,” he mewed.

Bluefur flicked him away with her tail. Was the whole Clan gossiping about Snowfur and Thistleclaw? Why did her sister have to be so obvious? Prickling with embarrassment, she headed for the ravine.

“Sorry.” Thrushpelt caught up to her. “I thought you’d find it funny.”

“Well, I don’t,” Bluefur snapped.

Tail down, Thrushpelt led the patrol to the RiverClan border. Bluefur started to feel guilty for snapping at him. The sandy-gray warrior had just been teasing. But the sooner he learned he couldn’t tease her about her sister, the better!

“No scents.” Thrushpelt stood at the border, tasting the air. “We’ll re-mark the border and head back.”

A few battered brambles and scuffed flecks of blood were all that betrayed the battle that had taken place there not long ago.

“Do you think they’ll try it again?” Speckletail ventured.

Thrushpelt shook his head. “I think they learned their lesson, the mangy furballs. And once Sunstar takes back Sunningrocks, the border will be easier to patrol.”

“Do you think he will?” Bluefur asked.

“I hope so,” Thrushpelt replied. “Or we’ll never regain the respect of the Clans.”

Bluefur only half heard him. She was gazing through the trees at the smooth rocks, pink in the dawn light. They were bare—no sign of RiverClan warriors, even in the shadows. Bluefur searched the far bank. No cats there, either. What had she expected? To see Crookedjaw or Oakheart skulking through the bushes, planning the next attack?

Had the two warriors been disappointed about missing the battle? She could imagine Oakheart, as arrogant as Thistleclaw, boasting to his Clanmates that RiverClan would have won if
he’d
been fighting.

“Bluefur?” Thrushpelt’s mew startled her out of her thoughts. “Are you coming?”

The rest of the patrol was already heading away through the trees. Thrushpelt had stopped and was looking back at her.

“Yes!” Bluefur hurried after them.

Her belly was rumbling by the time they reached the camp. The fresh-kill pile was still stocked from yesterday’s hunting, and she was looking forward to a juicy vole.

“Bluefur!” Snowfur called to her. The white warrior was hurrying across the clearing toward her, the morning sun dazzling off her freshly groomed pelt.

Bluefur sighed. “Is it urgent? I was just going to eat.”

“Come hunting with me,” Snowfur begged. “If you’ve already been on patrol, you can eat while we’re out.” Her eyes
were round and hopeful, and Bluefur couldn’t refuse, despite her growling belly.
At least forest prey will be warm
. And if she didn’t go with Snowfur, Thistleclaw probably would.

She followed her sister out of the camp, and by the time they’d reached the top of the ravine, she was looking forward to hunting. Leaves swished in the warm breeze, and the forest rustled with prey. Bluefur could barely remember the last time she’d been cold. She tried to imagine leaf-bare—shivering in snow, billowing clouds of breath—but it seemed too far away. Right now, it felt as though greenleaf would never end.

“Where should we hunt?” she asked Snowfur.

Snowfur shrugged.

“I thought you
wanted
to hunt.”

“I guess.”

Bluefur snorted. Her sister was dreamier than ever. She pushed on into the forest, determined to bring Snowfur back to the real world. “Are you happy that Sunstar is our leader now?”

“Of course,” Snowfur answered.

“But it feels like everything’s changed,” Bluefur murmured. She ducked under a bramble and held it back with her tail while Snowfur joined her. “Pinestar’s gone, Goosefeather’s crazier than a fox, and Sweetpaw’s dead. She was younger than us!”

Snowfur paused to nose a pale blue flower hanging over the path. “But there’s always new life,” she mewed softly.

Bluefur blinked. “What do you mean?”

Her sister lowered her muzzle and looked at her. Above
her head, the blue flower nodded as if it were listening. “I’m expecting kits.”

The ground seemed to dip under Bluefur’s paws.
“Already?”
she gasped. They were only just warriors! What did Snowfur want to bother with kits for?

Snowfur’s eyes clouded. “Aren’t you pleased?”

“Of…of course,” Bluefur mumbled. “I just didn’t expect—”

Snowfur cut her off. “Thistleclaw’s overjoyed,” she mewed. “He says the Clan needs new warriors. There are only Lionpaw and Goldenpaw in the apprentices’ den.”

Well, as long as Thistleclaw’s pleased, that’s all right, then
. Bluefur bit back the cutting remark. She didn’t want to spoil her sister’s happiness. But something inside her felt cold as snow, filling her up and choking her from within. Snowfur suddenly seemed further away than ever. She’d be in the nursery soon, and then fussing over her kits with Thistleclaw.
Is this the last time we’ll ever go hunting?

“He’ll make a good father, you know.” Snowfur seemed to be trying to reassure her. “I mean, I know you don’t like him, but he is good and kind.”

Bluefur stared at her sister, trying to imagine Thistleclaw being kind.

“He’s a loyal mate, and I trust him,” Snowfur insisted.

Bluefur sighed. Snowfur’s eyes were filled with worry. Bluefur couldn’t let her feel like this. “I’m thrilled for you, I really am,” she mewed. Absently she plucked up a wad of moss and let it drop from her claw. ThunderClan did need kits.
The three young ones in Leopardfoot’s litter weren’t exactly strong, and Thistleclaw was right: ThunderClan needed more apprentices. And…Snowfur’s kits would be her kin. Bluefur glanced up at the sky, wondering what Moonflower thought about the new kits. She realized that her mother would be pleased that Snowfur was happy.

Bluefur pressed her muzzle to her sister’s cheek.

I’ll be happy, too. I promise.

“Quick! Get Featherwhisker!” Bluefur gasped. Goosefeather
still hadn’t formally retired, but it was becoming more and more acknowledged among his Clanmates that Featherwhisker was in charge of the medicine cat duties.

On the other side of the nursery, Robinwing sleepily lifted her head. “Are the kits coming?”

“What else would it be?” Thistleclaw snapped. The warrior had stopped by the nursery to visit his mate when Snowfur’s pains had suddenly begun. Bluefur was glad she had been there, too.

Robinwing heaved herself to her paws. “I’ll get him,” she offered. She squeezed out of the den, puffing. A half-moon from kitting, the small, energetic warrior had become as cumbersome as a badger.

Thistleclaw plucked nervously at the edge of Snowfur’s nest as his mate writhed in the bracken. Bluefur licked Snowfur between the ears. “It’ll be over soon,” she promised. She tried not to think of Leopardfoot’s long kitting. Or the death of her she-kits before they’d reached one moon. That had seemed particularly cruel, so soon after Leopardfoot had
lost her mate to the life of a kittypet.
At least Tigerkit’s strong and healthy
, Bluefur reminded herself. He was scrabbling out of Leopardfoot’s nest now, stretching up to see what was happening.

Leopardfoot tugged him back by the tail. “You’re as nosy as a squirrel,” she scolded gently. “Why don’t you go outside and see if you can find Lionpaw?”

“Okay,” Tigerkit chirped. He squirmed out of the nursery just as Featherwhisker pushed his way in.

“Watch out! Coming through!” Tigerkit yowled as he scooted straight under the medicine cat’s belly.

“That kit gets bossier by the day,” Featherwhisker observed lightly, dropping a bundle of leaves by Snowfur’s nest. “I know he’s the only kit in the Clan, but I wish everyone would stop indulging him. He’s starting to act like a little leader.”

Bluefur flicked her tail. “Snowfur’s kits will give them someone else to fuss over.”

“How are you doing, little one?” Featherwhisker bent down to sniff the white queen’s head.

“I’m thirsty,” Snowfur whimpered. “Can I have some wet moss?”

“Good idea,” Featherwhisker mewed. “Thistleclaw, please could you get some?”

Thistleclaw stopped shredding the bracken at the edge of the nest and looked at his mate. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“We’ll take care of her,” Featherwhisker promised.

As soon as he was gone, Snowfur sighed. “Thanks for
getting rid of him before he pulled my nest to pieces.”

Bluefur’s whiskers twitched. It looked like her sister hadn’t lost her sense of humor yet. Then Snowfur gasped, and her eyes stretched until the whites showed around them.

Featherwhisker pressed his paw on her belly. “Pain?”

Snowfur nodded, holding her breath.

“Try breathing more, not less,” Featherwhisker suggested.

Bluefur didn’t think she could watch her sister being in agony. “Can you give her poppy seeds for the pain?”

Featherwhisker shook his head. “She needs to be able to feel it, so we know when the kits are coming.”

Snowfur breathed out slowly. “Will it be long?” she croaked.

“A while yet.”

“Wait there.” Bluefur squeezed out of the nursery.

Robinwing had settled on the dry earth outside. “I thought I’d give you some peace,” she meowed as Bluefur trotted past.

“Thanks,” Bluefur called over her shoulder. She scanned the edge of the camp, looking for something. The ferns were starting to appear tired now, their tips turning brown. The faint scent of leaf-fall tainted the breeze. Bluefur quickly saw what she was after: a short, stumpy stick, not too splintery, but tough. She picked it up in her jaws and hurried back to the nursery.

“What’s that?” Leopardfoot was peering out of her nest.

“I thought Snowfur could bite down on it when the pains came.” Bluefur pushed the stick under Snowfur’s muzzle.

Leopardfoot shuddered, clearly remembering her own
ordeal. “I wish I’d had one of those.”

“Thank you,” Snowfur panted. Her belly quivered and she grasped the stick between her teeth.

The brambles shook as Thistleclaw scrambled through the entrance and dropped the moss he was carrying. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” Featherwhisker reported. “But she’ll need more moss. Gather it from the stream outside camp. The water will be fresher there.”

Thistleclaw nodded, turned tail, and left. Bluefur wondered if he couldn’t bear to see Snowfur in pain either.

“Thanks,” Snowfur muttered to Featherwhisker.

Bluefur was aware of the sun moving slowly overhead, sending shifting shafts of light into the nursery. Snowfur was getting more and more tired, and she kept closing her eyes for long stretches. “It can’t be long now, can it?” Bluefur whispered to Featherwhisker.

“Not long.” He had just given Snowfur a mouthful of leaves to chew. Bluefur recognized the shape from when Leopardfoot was kitting: raspberry. She hoped they’d be more effective this time.

Snowfur groaned as another spasm shook her.

“Here!” Bluefur pushed the stick toward her muzzle.

“No!” Snowfur shrieked, pushing it away.

“The first one’s coming,” Featherwhisker meowed from where he crouched by Snowfur’s haunches.

Snowfur trembled as a small white bundle slid out into the nest. Featherwhisker bent down and lapped at the sack
encasing it, until it split open and a tiny white kit tumbled out, paws churning.

Snowfur turned and sniffed at the damp scrap of fur. “He’s beautiful,” she gasped. She grasped its scruff and hauled it to her belly.

It began suckling at once, kneading Snowfur with fierce paws.

“He’s a strong one,” Featherwhisker purred.

Bluefur felt a flood of relief. “How many more?” she asked.

Featherwhisker pressed Snowfur’s flank. “That’s it.”

Leopardfoot sat up. “Only one?”

“A tough little tom,” Featherwhisker told her. “You can’t ask more than that.”

Tigerkit scrabbled into the den. “Is it over?” he squeaked, peeking into the nest. He blinked at the white tom. “Where are the other kits?”

“That’s the only one,” Leopardfoot told him.

Tigerkit cocked his head. “That’s all?” he mewed. “But it’s white. It’ll never be able to hunt with a pelt that color. The prey’ll see him coming tree-lengths away.”

Leopardfoot climbed out of her nest and nosed Tigerkit away. “He’ll be a fine hunter, like his mother,” she told him.

“Not as good as me,” Tigerkit mewed.

Thistleclaw appeared in the entrance again, this time his jaws stretched with the biggest wad of dripping moss Bluefur had ever seen.

“You’ll drown the nursery with that,” she teased.

Thistleclaw’s gaze reached his son. He flung the moss aside and crossed the nursery in one leap. “He’s beautiful!”

Bluefur watched his gaze soften, all arrogance gone in a flood of affection. He licked Snowfur between the ears. “Well done,” he murmured. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Can we call him Whitekit?” Snowfur whispered.

Thistleclaw nodded. “We can call him whatever you want.”

He leaned forward and licked Whitekit. The kit mewled in protest, then went back to suckling. Thistleclaw stared down at his son, his eyes brimming with emotion. For the first time ever, Bluefur almost felt fond of her sister’s mate.

Thistleclaw straightened up. “I’ll go get you the tastiest piece of prey I can find,” he promised Snowfur.

Featherwhisker shook his head. “She won’t eat for a while,” he warned. “But that moss will be useful.” He plucked a piece and placed it where Snowfur could lap at it. She did so, thirstily, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion.

“Will she be all right?” Bluefur whispered.

“She just needs rest,” Featherwhisker promised. “She’ll be fine.”

Relieved, Bluefur sat back and watched Whitekit suckle, amazed that he knew what to do already.
Welcome to ThunderClan, little one. May StarClan light your path, always.

“Look!” Snowfur’s soft mew woke Bluefur the next morning. “He’s opened his eyes already!”

“Great!” Tigerkit’s head shot up over the edge of
Leopardfoot’s nest. “Can I take him out to explore?”

Snowfur looked as if Tigerkit had suggested taking her son out to play in a fox burrow. Shaking her head, she wrapped her tail protectively around Whitekit.

“You made me go out the moment I opened my eyes,” Bluefur reminded her.

Whitekit gazed around the den, his blue eyes misty but his tufty ears pricked. His stubby paws kneaded the bedding, and his tail stuck straight out like a twig.

Snowfur sighed. “If he wants to go out, then he can.” She wrapped her tail tighter and glared at Tigerkit. “But
no farther
than the clearing.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Bluefur promised. “You just rest.”

Snowfur still looked exhausted, hardly able to do more than lap at the moss Thistleclaw kept bringing. “Thank you,” she breathed.

Tigerkit was already out of his nest and balancing on the edge of Snowfur’s. “Come on!” he called to Whitekit. “There’s loads to see.”

Whitekit turned slowly and focused on his little tabby denmate.

“We’re going to be warriors,” Tigerkit told him. “We might as well start now.”

Whitekit blinked away the fuzziness in his gaze. “Okay,” he mewed. He scrambled up the side of the nest and teetered beside Tigerkit.

“This way.” Tigerkit led him to the entrance. Whitekit
followed on unsteady legs.

“Don’t take your eyes off him for an instant,” Snowfur called as Bluefur followed the two kits from the den.

“I won’t,” Bluefur replied over her shoulder.

Whitekit looked even smaller outside the nursery. The clearing that stretched away ahead of him might as well have been the valley to Highstones. Bluefur felt the sharp memory of her first time out, how big everything seemed, especially the warriors.

Stonepelt limped past. “Is that our new warrior?” he meowed.

Bluefur nodded.

A purr rumbled in Stonepelt’s throat. “Well, show him the warriors’ den and tell him to stay out. He’ll get there soon enough.” Amusement lit his eyes. Was he recalling the time she’d wandered into his den?

She nodded, whiskers twitching. “I will.” She didn’t want Whitekit to grow up for a long time yet.
Let him play peacefully and chase nothingfiercer than a ball of moss for as many moons as he can
.

A half-moon later, Frostkit and Brindlekit were born. Robinwing sat up proudly in her nest when Bluefur came in to visit them. They weren’t her first kits, and they had been born as easily as a beechnut slipping out of its shell.

“The nursery hasn’t been this full since we were kits,” Snowfur observed.

“It’s
too
busy,” Tigerkit complained. “There’s no room for proper games now.”

“Why don’t you go out and play?” Leopardfoot suggested. “You could show Frostkit and Brindlekit the camp.”

Robinwing’s kits started to bounce with excitement at the prospect of seeing their new home.

“Yes, please!”

“I’ll help!” Whitekit squeaked, trying to beat Tigerkit to the entrance.

Snowfur’s son had grown well, but he was still no match for his older denmate, in either breadth of shoulder or stubbornness. Tigerkit pushed easily ahead of him and led all three kits out of the nursery.

Robinwing sighed. “Will they be okay? I don’t want them to pester the older cats.”

“Do you want me to watch them?” Bluefur asked.

“That would be great, thanks.” Robinwing settled down in her nest.

Leopardfoot stood up, stretching each leg in turn. “I’ll come, too, and get prey from the pile.” The black queen was finally looking fit and strong again. She padded from her nest and followed Bluefur out of the nursery.

The four kits were already hurtling across the clearing.

“Not so fast!” Bluefur called. “Don’t forget, it’s Frostkit’s and Brindlekit’s first time out.”

“Kits always grow faster when they’ve got denmates to keep up with,” Leopardfoot commented as the kits disappeared into the fern tunnel that led to the medicine cats’ den.

“I’d better see what they’re getting up to,” Bluefur meowed. She didn’t want them getting into Goosefeather’s supplies.
Leaving Leopardfoot to take her pick from the fresh-kill pile, she hurried across the clearing to the medicine den.

So much had changed in the last few moons, and all for the better. It seemed as if the shadow that had rested over the Clan had been lifted. Pinestar’s departure had shocked all the Clans, but Sunstar had been resolute at the next Gathering and refused to allow any blame to be put on ThunderClan because of the actions of one cat. Sunstar made it clear that Pinestar’s leaving signaled a new, stronger ThunderClan and that kittypets would be shunned like their Twoleg owners from now on. As Pinestar predicted, the warrior code had been extended, to reject the life of a kittypet and stay loyal to the freedom and honor of being a Clan cat.

Now ThunderClan faced the coming leaf-fall well fed, with a nursery bustling with healthy kits and warriors confident in their new leader’s power.

Bluefur felt warm with satisfaction as she padded down the fern tunnel to see what her charges were up to.

“Get away, you vermin!”

A vicious yowl echoing from the clearing set her fur on end. She raced forward and burst out of the ferns. The kits were crouched, trembling, on the flattened grass while Goosefeather stood at the entrance to his den in the rock, hissing and spitting as though faced with a horde of ShadowClan warriors.

Bluefur shot between him and the kits. “What are you doing?” she burst out.

Goosefeather didn’t seem to notice her. Wild-eyed and
bristling, he twitched his matted tail toward Tigerkit. “Get that creature out of my den!” he snarled.

“I’m not in your den!” Tigerkit protested. To Bluefur’s relief, he didn’t seem to be frightened by Goosefeather’s absurd behavior, just indignant.

“Get him out of my clearing!” Goosefeather repeated.

Bluefur wrinkled her nose. The medicine cat stank. His clotted pelt looked as though it hadn’t been washed in a moon. And now he was cursing at kits! Had he gone completely mad?