Bluestar's Prophecy

  “Will you sit vigil?” Speckletail’s soft mew roused Bluepaw from her grief-stricken trance.

  The queens and elders had finished their task, and Moonflower’s body lay in the center of the clearing, as sleek and peaceful as if she were only sleeping. The rain clouds were clearing now, and the sun rested on the tops of the trees, turning them pink. Moonflower’s pelt shone silver. With a pang of grief so strong she had to fight for breath, Bluepaw remembered the first time she’d opened her eyes and been startled by her mother’s beauty. How she wished she were back in the nest now, listening to Moonflower’s steady breathing, waiting for her to wake up.

  “Will you sit vigil?” Speckletail repeated.

  Rage exploded in Bluepaw’s belly. “Why did you have to make her look like she’s asleep? She’s dead!” She stared at Snowpaw, but Snowpaw’s eyes were dull with grief.

  Sunfall padded from the shadow beneath Highrock and laid his tail on Bluepaw’s shoulders. “No one’s trying to pretend Moonflower’s still alive. She walks with our ancestors now, in StarClan. But she’s still watching you, as closely as she ever did. She’ll never leave you, Bluepaw.”

  Bluepaw wrenched herself away from him. “She has left me. I don’t want her to be in StarClan. I want her to be here, where I can see her and talk to her.”

  Sunfall gazed steadily at her. “You’ll see her in your dreams, I promise.”

  Stifling the wail that rose in her throat, Bluepaw crouched beside Moonflower’s body. Snowpaw joined her, nestling so close their pelts touched. Together they pressed their noses into their mother’s fur. The mint and rosemary had stolen her familiar scent, and the ache in Bluepaw’s heart grew sharper. The shadows lengthened around them as one by one her Clanmates joined the vigil. Bluepaw sensed the warmth of their bodies, even more noticeable next to the coldness of Moonflower’s. She pressed her muzzle harder against her mother’s flank, wishing she could find a little remaining warmth in her fur. But Moonflower was as cold as the earth.

  You said you would always be here with me. Why did you have to die?

  CHAPTER 10

  Mouse dung!

  Bluepaw released her grip on the bark and slid backward down the trunk of the birch tree. The squirrel had been too quick for her and was already disappearing into the topmost branches, sending flurries of snow showering onto the hunting patrol.

  Sunfall ducked. “Don’t worry,” he called up. “Squirrels are always going to be faster in thick snow because it supports their weight.”

  Well, obviously! Bluepaw wished Stonepelt were still her mentor. He had never treated her like a mouse-brain. But he had retired to the elders’ den when his injury from the battle with WindClan didn’t heal properly, and now she was stuck with Sunfall. Poppydawn and Swiftbreeze kept telling her that it was an honor to be mentored by the Clan deputy, but Bluepaw wasn’t convinced he was such a great mentor.

  If I’d stalked that squirrel better I would have caught it.

  It was the only sniff of prey they’d had all morning, and she’d let it get away. As she dropped backward into the thickly piled snow around the tree’s roots, Snowpaw’s mew rang through the muffled forest.

  “I know how we can get the prey out of their burrows!”

  “By calling to them?” Bluepaw mewed sarcastically. Hadn’t her sister learned to keep her voice low yet?

  “How?” Sparrowpelt beckoned his apprentice closer, and Snowpaw lolloped like a hare through the snow to his side, her belly leaving a trail in the soft white powder.

  Lionpaw leaped up onto the root beside Bluepaw. He’d been an apprentice for only half a moon, but he was already as big as her and had the typical cockiness of a fresh ’paw. He’d caught two mice, never seen battle, and acted like being an apprentice was the best thing in the world.

  Bluepaw hunched her shoulders as he settled next to her. Couldn’t he sit next to his mentor and leave her in peace?

  “I wonder what her idea is?” Lionpaw mewed.

  “Who cares?” Bluepaw sniffed. “She’s probably scared all the prey around here back into their burrows already.”

  “Don’t be grumpy.” Lionpaw nudged her gently. “Snowpaw has good ideas.”

  Bluepaw rubbed her nose with a paw, trying to warm it up. “Maybe she thinks if she shouts loud enough, every mouse and bird in the forest will come out to see what the noise is.”

  Lionpaw ignored her. “I love snowy days,” he murmured, staring into the trees. “Everything looks so clean and bright.”

  “You love everything,” Bluepaw growled, letting her bad temper flow freely as she slid off the root and sunk into the deep drift below. It was freezing, but it was better than listening to Lionpaw. He was always cheerful! Ever since he’d moved into the apprentices’ den, it had been impossible to get any sleep. He was always joking and teasing and messing around with the others. Thistlepaw, Sweetpaw, and Rosepaw never stopped purring and fidgeting when Lionpaw was in the den.

  Even Snowpaw seemed happier.

  Traitor.

  Had she forgotten about Moonflower?

  Goldenpaw was in the apprentices’ den, too, and it felt as crowded and noisy as the nursery had. Bluepaw envied Leopardpaw and Patchpaw. They were warriors now—Leopardfoot and Patchpelt—and they slept in peace and quiet under the yew bush. Warriors didn’t think it was funny to hide a beetle in a denmate’s nest, didn’t try to wake a denmate up to see how pretty the moon looked.

  Lucky Leopardfoot and Patchpelt.

  Bluepaw struggled out of the drift, wishing her legs were long enough to keep her belly fur from dragging in the snow. It was filled with soggy white clumps that would take forever to clean out. When she reached Sparrowpelt and Snowpaw, she shook the snow from her whiskers. “What’s the plan?”

  Snowpaw’s eyes were bright. “I thought we could leave some nuts or seeds on a tree root to draw the prey out.”

  Bluepaw rolled her eyes. “Did you bring any nuts with you?”

  Snowpaw shook her head. “Not this time. But I know Goosefeather keeps cob nuts for making ointments. We could bring some next time and—”

  Bluepaw cut her off. “Like he’s going to let you use his precious supplies for hunting.”

  “We’d only need a few,” Snowpaw pointed out. “And the prey would never get to eat them because we’d catch it first.”

  Sparrowpelt was nodding slowly. “I think it’s a clever idea.”

  Sunfall tipped his head on one side. “I really think it might work.”

  Bluepaw scowled at her mentor. “I suppose you think she’d have caught that squirrel.” She bounded away through the snow, her paws stinging with cold.

  “Leaf-bare hunting’s never easy for any cat!” Sunfall called after her.

  Bluepaw ignored him.

  “Sorry,” she heard Snowpaw meow. “She’s in one of her moods.”

  How dare Snowpaw apologize for her? She’s not my mother! Bluepaw shouldered her way into a swath of bracken, shaking loose its thick covering of snow. A narrow trail tunneled through the stems, and she followed it, relieved to feel hard forest floor under her paws. She could smell the cold, stale scent of fox and guessed with a glint of satisfaction that their paws had beaten this track. The thought of bumping into a fox made her claws itch. She could do with a good fight.

  She’s in one of her moods. Bluepaw lashed her tail as Snowpaw’s words echoed in her ears.

  She stomped farther into the bracken, trying to ignore the guilt pricking at her pelt. It wasn’t Snowpaw’s fault she felt so angry. Every morning since Moonflower had died, Bluepaw woke with the same hollow sadness opening like an old wound in her belly. It should be her mother helping her through the snowdrifts, not Sunfall. If Moonflower were still alive, she could help Bluepaw to learn how to hunt so that she didn’t appear so stupid in front of her denmates. Why wasn’t she there?

  A few paw steps on, the bracken trail widened and Bluepaw emerged into a hollow, open to the sky and thick with snow. A sandy bank faced her, sc
ooped out and topped by a white layer of snow. A hole gaped at its base, shadowy inside, and though the snow at its lip was untouched, the hot, fresh stench of fox drifted from the darkness.

  Fox burrow.

  Bluepaw stared into the shadows, her hackles rising. She felt angry enough to take on a whole family of foxes. As she unsheathed her claws, bracken crackled behind her. She stiffened, ready to fight, as paw steps thumped the frozen earth. She whirled around, her ears flat, and saw Sunfall burst from the golden fronds.

  “What in the name of StarClan are you doing here?” he growled. “Can’t you smell fox?”

  “Of course I can!” Bluepaw snapped back.

  “There’s probably a family of them in there.” Sunfall nodded toward the burrow. “Just waiting for some mouse-brain like you to wander in and give them an easy meal.”

  Bluepaw met his stare defiantly and didn’t say anything.

  “Do you really think you’re ready to fight a fox?”

  Something stirred deep inside the burrow—the sound of huge paws scraping on packed sand—and fear shot through Bluepaw.

  Sunfall whisked behind her and nudged her back into the bracken. “Quick!”

  Glancing over her shoulder at the shadowy den, Bluepaw let Sunfall guide her back along the trail. Her heart was racing as they burst from the bracken.

  Sunfall turned his head and scented the air. “Nothing’s followed us.”

  Bluepaw lifted her chin, hoping Sunfall couldn’t sense her relief. “Where are the others?” she asked.

  “I sent them back to camp,” Sunfall told her. “It’s getting late.”

  Bluepaw turned her paws toward home.

  “Wait!” Sunfall’s mew halted her. He was beckoning her with his tail toward the root of the birch. “I want to talk to you.” He swept the snow from the root with a paw, then jumped up and cleared another space beside him. “We’re not going back to camp till you tell me what’s going on.”

  Bluepaw scraped her claws mutinously along the bark, silvery and smooth amid the fluffy snow. She didn’t want to talk to Sunfall. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her nest, away from the snow and the cold and her Clanmates.

  “There’s nothing wrong,” she mewed tightly. “I’m just cold and hungry.”

  “We’re all cold and hungry.” Sunfall’s amber gaze didn’t stray from hers. “It doesn’t give us the right to be rude or reckless.”

  “I wasn’t being reckless!”

  “You were staring into a fox den!” Sunfall’s meow hardened to anger. His gaze burned so fiercely that Bluepaw studied her feet, her ears suddenly hot despite the freezing air.

  “How would Snowpaw have felt if you’d been ripped to shreds?” Sunfall went on. “She’s only just recovering from Moonflower’s death. She doesn’t need you to die as well!”

  Anger flashed through Bluepaw and she scowled at him. “I wasn’t going to die!”

  “What were you going to do?” Sunfall challenged. “Catch a fox and bring it home for supper?”

  Bluepaw looked away with a shrug.

  “Now, sit down and tell me what’s wrong!”

  Reluctantly Bluepaw clambered up beside him. The exposed root felt cold and damp as she sat down. “I’m just having a bad day, that’s all.”

  “It seems like every day’s a bad day with you.”

  Shut up! Shut up!

  “It’s leaf-bare,” Sunfall began.

  Duh!

  “We each have to do our best to provide for the Clan. But as far as I can tell, you’re not even trying. You act like everything’s a chore; you scrape through your assessments, though I know you can do better. Sometimes I feel like I’m wasting my time trying to teach you. You’re so bad-tempered with your Clanmates, they’re starting to avoid you. And now, when every cat needs to try their hardest, you hunt as though your mind’s filled with starling feathers and your paws are made of stone.”

  His words stung like nettles, and Bluepaw found herself shrinking inside her pelt as he went on.

  “Why should your Clanmates look after you if you won’t do the same for them?”

  Her eyes began to prick. “I—I…” Her voice choked and she finished weakly, “Everything’s gone wrong.” There was a heavy pause. She looked up when she felt Sunfall’s tail stroke her flank.

  “You miss Moonflower,” he meowed. “Of course you do. But she died defending her Clan.”

  “Defending?” Bluepaw bristled. “We were attacking, not defending!”

  “Only to save our territory.”

  “Are you sure?” Bluepaw glared at him. Had StarClan really wanted them to fight?

  Sunfall met her gaze, unblinking. “Did you believe we were defending ThunderClan territory as we headed for battle?” he asked.

  Bluepaw paused, remembering, then nodded.

  “So did every cat on that patrol.” Sunfall glanced at the ground. “We thought we were doing as StarClan wanted. We may have been right. We may have been wrong. But fighting for our Clan is part of the warrior code. Whatever doubts we have, we must not doubt the warrior code. The forest and our Clanmates may change around us, but the warrior code remains the same.”

  Bluepaw breathed out slowly as Sunfall continued.

  “Moonflower knew that. She fought bravely and died bravely.” Sunfall flicked his gaze back to Bluepaw. “Warriors die in battle. It’s a fact. But they do not leave us. They join StarClan, where they find old friends and kin, and there they watch over us.”

  Bluepaw glanced through the branches at the darkening sky. Silverpelt would be out soon. Was Moonflower really there, watching? Her heart ached with wanting to believe it was true.

  “Moonflower wants you to be brave, like she was,” Sunfall meowed. “To do your duty, just as she did.”

  How do you know? A flash of fury washed over Bluepaw. “You think she wants us to die like she did? For nothing?”

  Sunfall thrashed his tail, sweeping the snow from behind him. “Dying for your Clan is not nothing!”

  Bluepaw dug her claws into the bark as Sunfall took a breath. “I wish Moonflower were still alive, too,” he murmured, with a sadness that took Bluepaw by surprise. Then he stood up and shook the snow from his tail. “But she’s not, and you can’t grieve forever. Your Clan needs you. Concentrate more on your training.” His mew was brisk as he leaped down from the tree root. “It’ll give you something else to think about.”

  I don’t want to think about anything else! Moonflower’s not a thorn in my paw to be plucked out and forgotten! Bluepaw jumped down from the root, her paws so numb with cold that she landed clumsily.

  Sunfall glanced around at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course!” She straightened up. She’d show him. She’d be the best apprentice he ever saw. But she wouldn’t forget Moonflower.

  As he led her through the trees, Sunfall glanced at the sky. Though the sun had not yet set, the moon hung, round and mottled, in the pale blue sky. “I’ll take you to the Gathering tonight,” he meowed. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it.”

  Don’t bother, then. Bluepaw bit back the words.

  “It’s good for you to see the other Clans and to get to know them in peace as well as battle.”

  Yeah, right! Get to know them! The other Clans were hardly talking to them. Since the battle they’d watched ThunderClan like distrustful owls, rebuking them every chance they got for the “cowardly” attack and the destruction of WindClan’s medicine supplies. ShadowClan had even suggested they pay WindClan in prey for the damage.

  “I don’t know why we bother going,” Bluepaw muttered. “The other Clans hate us.”

  Sunfall paused at the edge of the ravine. “Let them sneer.” The fur lifted along his spine. “We suffered as well. Stonepelt has moved to the elders’ den, and Leopardfoot’s wound has only just healed.”

  And Moonflower died. Bluepaw silently dared him to say it, but the ThunderClan deputy only slid his paws over the edge
of the ravine and began to bound down the cliff.

  “Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder as Bluepaw leaped down after him. “Something will happen soon, and they’ll forget the battle. Nothing stays the same for long.”

  Bluepaw followed him down the ravine and along the path to the gorse barrier. As they padded into camp, the familiarity of her home soothed Bluepaw. The clearing felt sheltered, shielded from the breeze, and after the trek through the woods she could feel her paws again.

  Maybe Sunfall was right. Maybe Moonflower was watching her from StarClan, willing her to be the best and bravest warrior. So what if Stormtail ignored her? She’d make Moonflower proud instead. She’d be just as brave, just as loyal, and just as willing to die for what she believed.

  For the first time in moons, some of the weight in Bluepaw’s heart lifted. She took a deep breath and felt the icy air sear her lungs, reminding her that this was leaf-bare, when her Clan needed her most.

  CHAPTER 11

  Bluepaw’s ear tips ached with cold by the time they reached the edge of the hollow. At least she’d been able to scamper across the brittle surface of the night-frosted snow instead of struggling through soft drifts. Her paws were like ice, but the race through the forest had warmed her blood.

  Sunfall paused beside Pinestar and stared down the slope with his ears pricked and his breath clouding in front of his muzzle. “RiverClan’s not here,” he meowed.

  Bluepaw tasted the air. “ShadowClan and WindClan are.” Their scent was sharp on her tongue.

  Pinestar’s nostrils twitched. “They haven’t been here long, by the smell of it.”

  “I can’t imagine any cat wanting to be out long on a night like this,” Featherwhisker commented. The medicine cat apprentice stood beside Goosefeather with his fur fluffed against the cold.

  Lionpaw slid his paws back and forth over the rim of the hollow. “Can we go down yet?” he mewed.