Bluestar's Prophecy

  Bluepaw’s fur lifted along her spine. She didn’t like the look of Raggedpelt. He hardly acknowledged Stonetooth, who sat hunched on his belly as Raggedpelt swung his head around, accepting the yowling approval of his Clanmates.

  “Raggedpelt! Raggedpelt!”

  Featherwhisker’s eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Raggedpelt. Bluepaw’s unease grew. Did the medicine cat apprentice know this change signaled trouble? She glanced at Goosefeather for some clue, but the ThunderClan medicine cat seemed to be staring absently away into the trees.

  Sagewhisker cheered loudly for Raggedpelt. A young cat cheered alongside her.

  Her apprentice?

  But the younger cat didn’t look like a ShadowClan cat at all. With thick gray fur, a flat face, and large amber eyes, she stood out among her sleek-furred, sharp-muzzled Clanmates. As Bluepaw watched, the gray cat paused and turned her gaze toward Bluepaw. Bluepaw’s breath seemed to catch for a moment before the gray cat turned away and returned to cheering her Clanmate.

  What must it be like to be ShadowClan? To cheer for a ShadowClan warrior? ThunderClan might meet with the other three Clans every full moon, but Bluepaw realized that she’d never really know them, never understand their loyalties and the bonds that connected them to their Clanmates as tightly as she was bound to hers.

  She suddenly realized that the cheering had died down and the leaders were leaping from the Great Rock. The Gathering was over, and the cats were melting into their separate groups and heading for the slopes that led back to their territories. She turned to say good-bye to Crookedpaw, but he was already trotting after a large, mottled warrior. He glanced over his shoulder and blinked at her before disappearing up the shadowy slope.

  “Don’t we share tongues anymore?” Bluepaw looked at Swiftbreeze. “I know the other Clans don’t like us right now, but we usually share tongues with one another.”

  Swiftbreeze shivered. “Too cold tonight.” Fluffing out her fur, she followed Adderfang and Stormtail, who were already padding away between the great oaks.

  As Bluepaw stood up, a pelt brushed hers.

  “Who was that?” Snowpaw’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

  Bluepaw blinked. Who?

  “That RiverClan tom you were talking to?” Snowpaw pressed.

  “Oh!” Bluepaw understood. “That was Crookedpaw. He’s an apprentice.”

  “He’s big enough to be a warrior.”

  “He started his training late,” Bluepaw explained.

  “Sounds like you were getting to know each other pretty well.” Snowpaw’s mew was tinged with accusation.

  “So?”

  Snowpaw shrugged. “You should be careful about getting friendly with cats from other Clans.”

  “We were only chatting,” Bluepaw protested. “It’s a Gathering. There’s a truce. We’re supposed to be friendly.”

  “Not that friendly.” Snowpaw snorted. “From what I saw, even Sunfall couldn’t shut you up.”

  Bluepaw lashed her tail. “Just because I talk to another cat doesn’t mean I’m mooning over him like you do with Thistlepaw.”

  Snowpaw hissed. “You’re just jealous!”

  “Jealous of you and Thistlepaw?” Bluepaw snapped. “No way!”

  But Snowpaw was already away, pelt bristling, trotting after Sparrowpelt.

  Sunfall beckoned from beneath an oak. “Are you coming?”

  Bluepaw hurried to his side. “Was I being too friendly with that RiverClan apprentice?”

  “You were being too noisy,” Sunfall chided gently.

  “But is it okay to be friends with cats from another Clan?”

  “Not friends, but it makes sense to get to know them. There’s a lot we can learn from one another, and not just how to fight them in battle.”

  “So it was all right to talk to him?”

  Sunfall nodded. “But next time, save the talking for afterward, please.”

  Bluepaw shifted her paws. “Sorry,” she mewed. “He was just chatty, that’s all.”

  Sunfall’s whiskers twitched. He flicked her flank with his tail, shooing her toward the bottom of the slope. “Come on, let’s get home before our paws turn to ice.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Sun sparkled on the snow piled at the edge of the camp. Frost had turned the trees and bushes white, and their branches looked like cobwebs against the clear blue sky.

  Bluepaw blinked against the brightness, her head fuzzy with sleep.

  “You missed the fresh-kill,” Weedwhisker called. The elder was sitting in the morning sunshine outside his den with Stonepelt, Tawnyspots, and Speckletail.

  Stonepelt was lapping gently at the long scar on his shoulder. He paused and glanced up. “The dawn patrol found a gang of starlings and brought some home.”

  Bluepaw stared wistfully at the feathers dotting the space where the fresh-kill had been. Her belly growled.

  Stormtail and Dappletail were clearing last night’s snowfall from the entrance, pushing snow into heaps and piling it against the gorse barrier. Goldenpaw and Swiftbreeze worked alongside them, their breath billowing and their pelts clumped into snow-powdered ridges. Bluepaw shivered.

  “A thaw’s coming,” Speckletail promised. “The wind smells less of ShadowClan pines and more of RiverClan. It’ll bring rain before long.”

  Weedwhisker tucked his tail more tightly over his paws. “Once the snow begins melting, our nests will be soaked,” he grumbled.

  Bluepaw jumped as a bundle of fur tumbled toward her and skidded to a clumsy halt at her paws.

  Sweetpaw.

  The tortoiseshell apprentice straightened up, her fur ruffled, as Smallear and Rosepaw caught up to her.

  Rosepaw’s whiskers were twitching. “Nice battle move,” she teased.

  Bluepaw looked up sharply as she heard paw steps beyond the gorse tunnel. Adderfang and Sparrowpelt trotted into the clearing, with Thistlepaw and Patchpelt at their heels. Their heads were high and their eyes bright; each cat held two small but plump mice in his jaw.

  Prey!

  Bluepaw’s belly growled again.

  Thistlepaw dropped his catch. “Adderfang uncovered a whole nest!”

  The nursery rattled as Snowpaw slid out. Old pieces of bracken and moss were piled at the entrance and more clung to her fur.

  “That’s clean enough.” Her eyes brightened when she spotted Thistlepaw, and then the fresh-kill. “I haven’t seen this many mice in a moon!” She raced across the clearing and nuzzled Thistlepaw’s cheek.

  Thistlepaw fluffed out his chest. “I caught three of them.”

  Snowpaw’s eyes glowed.

  Bluepaw looked away. Couldn’t her sister see how arrogant he was?

  Goosefeather wandered from the fern tunnel, nose twitching. “I smell mice.” He picked one from the pile and gobbled it down.

  Bluepaw lashed her tail and pawed angrily at the snow. Goosefeather cared only about himself! Maybe if he cared more about his Clanmates, he wouldn’t have sent them into such a dangerous battle.

  “It wasn’t his fault.”

  Sunfall’s mew made Bluepaw jump. “What wasn’t?”

  Sunfall blinked. “Moonflower’s death.”

  “I never said it was!”

  “But you think it.”

  Bluepaw looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Eat something,” he meowed. “I’ll take you out later for training.”

  She picked up a sparrow from the fresh-kill pile and carried it over to the nettle patch. Huddling in a crouch, she took a bite. It was so frozen that she had to warm it in her mouth before she could chew. As she sat and waited for the flavors to seep over her tongue, she heard her sister’s mew from the other side of the nettles.

  “Get off!” Snowpaw was purring with amusement. “It tickles!”

  Bluepaw pricked her ears.

  A muted reply answered Snowpaw. “What do you expect if you sit on burrs?”

  “I didn’t sit on any burrs!”

  Bluepaw swa
llowed her mouthful, stood up, and started to creep around the side of the nettles.

  “Well, how come your pelt’s full of them?”

  “It’s not!”

  “Sit still while I pull this one out.” The other mew was hard to recognize, muffled by something.

  “Ow!” Snowpaw squeaked.

  “Got it!” The muffled mew broke into a purr. “Now you look ready to go on patrol.”

  Bluepaw sprang around the corner, knocking frost from the quivering nettles. Snowpaw spun to face her, her eyes wide and very blue.

  “Oh…hi!”

  Bluepaw narrowed her eyes. Thistlepaw was sitting close to her sister with a tuft of white fur caught in his whiskers.

  “Thistlepaw was helping me groom my pelt,” Snowpaw explained.

  Prickly anger surged into Bluepaw’s belly. “Have you forgotten how to do it yourself?”

  Thistlepaw shrugged. “How was she supposed to reach the burr stuck on her back?” He sat back, relaxed, chin high.

  Arrogant toad! “I could have gotten that,” Bluepaw snapped.

  Thistlepaw flicked the burr into the nettles. “You weren’t around.”

  Snowpaw shifted her paws. “Why don’t you check to see if the queens need you to gather some fresh moss?” she suggested to Thistlepaw. They exchanged a knowing look that made Bluepaw want to box their ears.

  The moment Thistlepaw had left, she glared at Snowpaw. “What’s going on with you and him?”

  “He makes me purr,” Snowpaw mewed.

  “I can see that,” Bluepaw growled.

  Snowpaw’s eyes flashed. “He was only being helpful!”

  “A little too helpful by the look of it!”

  “There’s nothing in the warrior code that says denmates can’t be friends,” Snowpaw snapped back.

  “You looked like more than just friends!” Bluepaw accused her.

  “So what?” Snowpaw snapped. “There’s nothing in the warrior code about that either.”

  “So you’re just following the warrior code?” Bluepaw rolled her eyes. “Well, there’s nothing in the warrior code about sleeping or eating. Maybe you should give those up, just so you aren’t breaking the code!”

  Snowpaw rolled her eyes. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  Before Bluepaw could answer, Sunfall padded around the nettles. “What are you two arguing about?”

  Both sisters glared at the deputy. “Nothing!”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Come back to the clearing. It’ll be time for patrols soon.”

  Shooting a fierce look at her sister, Bluepaw followed him back around the nettles. Her sparrow was lying on the ground, but she didn’t feel hungry anymore.

  “Eat it,” Sunfall growled.

  Bluepaw took a bad-tempered bite and chewed crossly.

  On the far side of the clearing, Tawnyspots was finishing half a vole with the elders. Suddenly he sat up. “I know how to keep your nests dry!” he meowed.

  “How?” Weedwhisker stared at him expectantly.

  “There are thick, waxy leaves on a bush near the ShadowClan border,” Tawnyspots reminded them. “If we gather those and weave them among the old fern stalks, they’ll stop the water getting in when the thaw comes.”

  Weedwhisker purred. “It might work!”

  Tawnyspots was already on his paws. “I’ll take Rosepaw and collect some now.”

  Rosepaw lifted her head, her eyes shining.

  “Can we go, too?” Sweetpaw glanced at her mentor.

  Smallear nodded. “The more paws, the better.” He looked over at Thistlepaw. “Do you want to join the leaf-gathering patrol?”

  Bluepaw waited for Thistlepaw to explain that he was a hunter, not a leaf picker, but he leaped to his paws. “Yes, please!”

  Snowpaw plucked at the snow. “Can I come?”

  Sparrowpelt sat up and ran a paw over his whiskers. “A run through the forest will warm us up.” He called to the ShadowClan deputy, who had settled in a sunny spot outside Pinestar’s den. “Sunfall?”

  “It sounds like a good plan.” Sunfall was nodding already. “But make sure you’re back for sunhigh.”

  Bluepaw watched the patrol leave, feeling hollow. No one had invited her. Sunfall had been right. She’d grown so bad-tempered lately, none of her Clanmates wanted to be with her.

  She took another bite of her sparrow, but could hardly swallow.

  Crookedpaw liked me, she thought defiantly.

  The apprentices’ den shivered as Lionpaw nosed his way out. “Is that prey?” He blinked in the sunshine as he looked at the fresh-kill pile. His eyes brightened for a moment. Then he glanced around the clearing. “Where are Larksong and Mumblefoot?”

  “Too stiff to leave their nests,” Weedwhisker told him. “This cold’s no good for old bones.”

  “They must be hungry.” Lionpaw scooped up the remaining mice and disappeared among the branches of the fallen tree. He emerged a few moments later with snow dusting his pelt.

  Bluepaw could hear his belly growling. She nosed the remains of her sparrow forward. “Do you want the rest of mine?”

  Lionpaw’s eyes glowed. “Yes, please,” he mewed. “I’m starving.”

  Once he’d finished and washed his face, he called to Swiftbreeze. “You promised to teach me some battle moves!”

  Swiftbreeze nodded. “I haven’t forgotten. We’ll go to the sandy hollow. There’ll be more room.” She flicked her tail over Goldenpaw’s flank. “Do you want to come with us?”

  “Yes!”

  “Can Bluepaw come too?” Lionpaw asked.

  Bluepaw blinked. Did he really want her with them?

  “She can show us how it’s done.” Lionpaw looked hopefully at Bluepaw. “Please?”

  Bluepaw nodded.

  Sunfall got to his paws. “I think I’d better come with you.” He stretched and yawned. “Three apprentices may be too many for one mentor.”

  Swiftbreeze purred. “I’d welcome some help.”

  Sunfall led the way through the snow-muffled forest to the training hollow. The clearing had been well sheltered from the snows, and the thin layer that coated the red earth was already beginning to melt in patches. Bluepaw raced down the short slope and across the clearing, suddenly feeling more cheerful. Battle moves would warm them all up—and give her a chance to forget about her sister mooning over Thistlepaw. She hadn’t practiced as hard as she should have since Moonflower had died, but maybe helping to train her denmates would give her a chance to catch up.

  “What do you want me to show them?” she asked Swiftbreeze.

  The tabby-and-white warrior tipped her head on one side. “I think we’ll start with Lionpaw.”

  Lionpaw darted across the hollow.

  “He needs to learn to think before he rushes in.”

  Lionpaw skidded to a halt and turned back to his mentor. “But in a battle, there’s no time to think!”

  “In a battle, planning is the most important weapon you have.” Swiftbreeze looked at Bluepaw. “Can you do a half-turn belly rake?”

  Bluepaw nodded. It was one of the first things Sunfall had taught her.

  Swiftbreeze padded down the slope. “Show Lionpaw.”

  Pausing to think her move through, Bluepaw squatted down. Focusing on how she would land, she ducked forward, turned like a snake, and twisted, raking her hind claws against the belly of an imaginary warrior before flipping back onto her paws.

  “Did you get that?” she asked Lionpaw.

  But Lionpaw had already darted forward. He turned, snapping back on himself too quickly so that when he tried to twist, Bluepaw could tell he’d lost his balance. His hind legs flew into the air, flailing like reeds in the wind, and he collapsed onto his flank. “Mouse dung!”

  Swiftbreeze picked up Lionpaw by his scruff and dropped him onto his paws. “Where do you think you went wrong?”

  “I twisted too early?”

  “And…?”

  “And?” Lionpaw echoed, frowning.


  Swiftbreeze switched her gaze to Bluepaw. “What did you do before you tried the move?”

  Bluepaw wasn’t sure what she meant. “I crouched down.”

  “What were you doing while you were crouching?” Swiftbreeze pressed.

  Bluepaw tried to remember. The move was so familiar that she didn’t really think about what she was doing.

  Then she realized that, in fact, she did think about what she was doing. “I imagined my body making the move. Where I would finish, how I would move to get there.”

  “Precisely,” Swiftbreeze purred. “Does that make sense, Lionpaw?”

  Lionpaw was already crouching, ready to repeat the move, but this time a look of concentration darkened his gaze. He hesitated just a moment longer, then lunged, turned, twisted, raked, and landed on his paws.

  “I did it!” His mew was triumphant.

  “Very good.”

  “Can I try?” Goldenpaw was padding toward them.

  “Do you want Bluepaw to show you again?”

  Goldenpaw shook her head. “I think I got it.” She crouched. “But I have to imagine the move first, right?”

  “Right.”

  Bluepaw tensed, willing her to get it right the first time. Goldenpaw hesitated, then hesitated some more.

  “Come on,” Swiftbreeze urged.

  Goldenpaw looked up at her. “But you said think before you move.”

  “Not exactly. Imagine the move, then do it,” Swiftbreeze instructed. “But don’t waste half the battle planning it in your head.”

  “Okay.” Goldenpaw looked straight ahead, then leaped forward.

  Her turn and twist were good, but Bluepaw could see that she didn’t have the same strength in her hind legs as Lionpaw.

  “Not bad,” Swiftbreeze commented. “Your timing is great.”

  Lionpaw pushed in front of his littermate. “Can I try it on Bluepaw?”

  Swiftbreeze nodded. “Good idea.”

  Bluepaw took a few paces backward, preparing for Lionpaw’s attack. When she faced him, she realized how broad his shoulders had grown. He was going to be a powerful warrior. She braced herself as he rushed toward her and let him slip around behind her, do the snake-turn, then twist under her belly. He tried to rake her with his hind paws but she leaped up, out of the way, before they could touch her fur. She was only just in time. He was fast, considering his size and inexperience, and she landed panting on the ground, relieved she’d dodged his powerful paws.