Bluestar's Prophecy

  Leopardfoot lifted her head. “It can’t be too warm for me,” she purred.

  Bluefur headed for the fresh-kill pile.

  “There’s plenty of prey to choose from.” Lionpaw was lying beside the tree stump with Goldenpaw. “I caught a thrush and a vole myself.”

  Goldenpaw flicked her tail across his ears. “Stop showing off!”

  Lionpaw lapped at the thick fur around his neck. “I was just being honest.”

  Bluefur’s whiskers twitched. “Following the warrior code, I suppose,” she teased. She stepped out of the way as Sunfall came hurrying toward the apprentices’ den.

  “Hey, Lionpaw! Have you seen Pinestar?”

  Lionpaw looked up. “I thought he went out with a hunting patrol.”

  Sunfall narrowed his eyes. “I thought so, too, but the hunting patrol’s just come back and Pinestar’s not with them.”

  Bluefur tipped her head on one side. Had the rest of the border patrol noticed her sniffing for Pinestar’s scent as they’d passed the Twolegplace border? She couldn’t forget seeing him with Jake, and since their trip to the Moonstone a moon ago, the feeling that something was wrong with the ThunderClan leader had never entirely gone away. Was he in Twolegplace right now, talking to Jake, making himself comfortable among the kittypets as a way to escape his worries about the Clans?

  Lionpaw gave up on his tufty fur and padded over to the bright orange warrior. “Would you like me to look for him?” he offered.

  Sunfall shook his head. “I want you to come with me on a patrol to check the border along the river,” he explained. “RiverClan may have taken Sunningrocks from us, but they’re not allowed to set one paw on this side of them. The dawn patrol picked up some scents as far in as the trees, so I think we should patrol there more often in case those fish-faces have any ideas about invading us. Bluefur, you can come, too.”

  Bluefur glanced at the teetering pile of prey. “Have I got time for a mouse?”

  “Make it quick.” Sunfall turned. “I’ll round up Sparrowpelt and White-eye.”

  Bluefur gulped down a mouse, burping as Lionpaw jumped to his paws.

  “Are you coming?” he asked Goldenpaw.

  Goldenpaw shook her head. “Dappletail’s teaching me some battle moves for my next assessment.”

  Lionpaw glanced at Bluefur. “I guess it’s up to us to scare off those mangy RiverClan cats.” His fur bristled along his back. “Why can’t they stick to their own territory? They don’t even like squirrels.”

  Bluefur flattened her ears, surprised by his fierceness. He’d been little more than a kit last time they’d fought RiverClan; now he was ready to claw their ears off. She suspected he was secretly hoping they had crossed the border, which would give ThunderClan a reason to attack. Thistlepaw wasn’t the only cat in ThunderClan who felt uncomfortable losing Sunningrocks without a fight. But still, she believed Pinestar had been right.

  “A battle’s not fun,” she warned Lionpaw.

  “At least you’ve had the chance to find out!” he complained. “I only ever get to meet the other Clans at Gatherings!”

  Did he really prefer fighting to talking? Bluefur narrowed her eyes, then remembered Crookedjaw. At least in battle you knew where you stood and whom you could trust.

  She cuffed Lionpaw softly over the ear. “Come on.”

  He stopped arching his back and bristling as though he were already fighting, and followed Bluefur as she joined Sunfall, White-eye, and Swiftbreeze at the entrance.

  As soon as they reached the new RiverClan border, Bluefur guessed the dawn patrol had been mistaken. Though the markers were fresh, the only RiverClan scents on this side were so weak they could have drifted across on the breeze. And yet the sight of RiverClan warriors lounging on the warm rocks beyond made Bluefur bristle. She may have defended Pinestar’s decision to let them take the rocks, but to see them using what had been ThunderClan territory made her claws itch.

  Sunfall growled beside her, and Swiftbreeze plucked at the ground. “Pinestar’s going to have to take them back eventually,” she spat. “They insult us every time they set paw on those rocks.”

  “Cowards!” Lionpaw yowled across the border.

  Swiftbreeze quickly tugged him back by his tail. “A smart warrior only starts battles he might win!” she hissed.

  The RiverClan warriors were staring through the trees. Bluefur recognized Crookedjaw. Was he a friend or an enemy now? Was she supposed to think of him as she did at Gatherings or in battle?

  A tawny pelt slid off the rocks onto the shadowy strip of grass below and padded toward the border.

  Oakheart.

  Trust Crookedjaw’s arrogant littermate to push his luck. He padded slowly along the scent markers, glancing through the trees at the ThunderClan patrol.

  Bluefur stepped forward and hissed. Oakheart’s eyes gleamed brighter when he saw her, and she found herself drawn into his gaze.

  “RiverClan furball!” she spat.

  Were his whiskers twitching? She arched her back. How dare he mock her?

  “Bluefur!” Sunfall’s sharp mew sounded behind her, but she couldn’t break her gaze.

  Then Oakheart turned and padded slowly up the rocks. Bluefur shivered and jerked away.

  “Don’t let them get to you,” Swiftbreeze advised.

  Bluefur shook her whiskers, wanting to be rid of Oakheart’s gaze. He was as big-headed as Thistlepaw. She snorted angrily as she followed her Clanmates away through the trees.

  Pinestar was back when they reached the camp, sitting beside the nettle patch with Patchpelt. “Sunfall.” He nodded in greeting to his deputy as they reached the clearing. “Is all quiet on the borders?”

  “Yes,” Sunfall replied. “Did the prey run well for you?”

  Pinestar nodded. “StarClan was good to me.”

  He just stopped to hunt on his way home from patrol. Bluefur felt a flicker of relief as she gazed past the ThunderClan leader and saw a plump starling lying on the fresh-kill pile. Pinestar had made a good catch. And more importantly, he hadn’t been in Twolegplace with Jake.

  Rosepaw bounced past on Sweetpaw’s heels. “It just sat under the sycamore as if it wanted to be caught,” she mewed happily. “One pounce and I’d caught it—a nice juicy starling. I bet Leopardfoot will enjoy it.”

  So the Clan leader hadn’t caught the starling after all. As Bluefur stiffened, the nursery brambles twitched. Featherwhisker slid out, his eyes bright with worry.

  “Leopardfoot’s kits are coming!”

  “So early?” Swiftbreeze whipped her head around. “They’re not due for half a moon.” Her eyes shimmered with worry for her daughter.

  Patchpelt got to his paws and hurried from the nettle patch. “Is she okay?”

  Featherwhisker didn’t answer. Instead he called to the kits’ father. “Pinestar! Will you stay with her while I get supplies?”

  Pinestar backed away, looking startled.

  Has he forgotten Leopardfoot is having his kits?

  “I think it’s best if I leave it to you and Goosefeather.” The ThunderClan leader sounded awkward. Was he just being squeamish?

  Swiftbreeze snorted and squeezed into the nursery. “I’ll watch her!”

  Larksong padded out of the fallen tree with Stonepelt beside her. “New kits!” she rasped, eyes shining.

  Featherwhisker hurried toward the medicine den and nearly ran into Goosefeather, who was wandering out of the fern tunnel. “Watch where you’re going!” Featherwhisker snapped. Then he froze. “Sorry!”

  But Goosefeather just shambled past his apprentice and stopped at the fresh-kill pile.

  “Leopardfoot’s kitting!” Featherwhisker called after him.

  “I know, I know,” Goosefeather muttered distractedly as he began pawing through the pile. Turning each piece of prey with his paw, he leaned down and inspected them closely.

  Featherwhisker flicked his tail and raced down the fern tunnel.

  Snowfur slid out of the warriors
’ den. “Did I hear that Leopardfoot’s kits are coming?” She followed Bluefur’s gaze and watched Goosefeather sift through the prey pile. “How can he think about food now?”

  Patchpelt frowned. “I think he’s looking for omens.”

  “Omens can wait!” Snowfur’s ears twitched as a low moan drifted from the nursery. “It sounds as though Leopardfoot needs help.”

  Bluefur glanced hopefully at Pinestar. Perhaps he would nudge the medicine cat into action. But Pinestar just stared blankly at Goosefeather while Goosefeather muttered and tossed aside another piece of prey. Bluefur was relieved to see Featherwhisker racing back from the medicine den with a leaf wrap tight in his jaws. He scrambled back inside the nursery.

  Thank StarClan, he hasn’t turned mouse-brained!

  “It’s been so long since there’ve been kits,” Larksong sighed.

  Stonepelt picked up a sparrow, which Goosefeather had tossed aside, and carried it into the shade below Highrock. “We might as well eat,” he told Larksong. “These things take time.”

  Bluefur paced until her paws ached. As the Clan cats began to return from patrols and hunting parties, they gathered in the clearing, eyes flicking more anxiously toward the nursery as time passed with no word from Featherwhisker.

  “Shouldn’t you be with her?” Larksong called pointedly to Pinestar, who was crouched by the nettle patch.

  “What could I do?” Pinestar answered. “I’m no medicine cat.”

  Larksong muttered something into Stonepelt’s ear and turned her gaze back to the nursery.

  Stormtail rebuilt the fresh-kill pile from the prey that Goosefeather had left all over the ground after wandering off. The gray warrior picked up two shrews and carried them to where White-eye and Tawnyspots sat at the edge of the clearing. “There’ll be more warriors for ThunderClan by nightfall,” he meowed.

  White-eye flinched as an agonized wail sounded from the nursery. “May StarClan light their path,” she murmured.

  The sun began to sink low over the trees when Dappletail and Goldenpaw padded into the camp.

  “How was training?” Bluefur called to her old denmate.

  “Dappletail says I should be fine for my assessment.” Goldenpaw trotted over and nodded toward the nursery. “What’s going on?”

  “Leopardfoot’s kitting,” Bluefur told her.

  Dappletail’s tail flicked. “Already?” Her eyes clouded with worry. “How long has she been at it?”

  “Most of the afternoon.”

  “Is Goosefeather with her?”

  “No, Featherwhisker is.”

  “Where’s Goosefeather?” Dappletail demanded.

  Stormtail looked up from his shrew. “He was at the top of the ravine when we came down.”

  Dappletail blinked. “What in the name of StarClan was he doing up there?”

  “Staring at the sky when we passed, muttering about clouds,” Stormtail meowed. “I don’t think he noticed us.”

  The nursery brambles shivered as Featherwhisker squeezed out. His eyes glittered with tension, and his pelt was sticking up along his flanks. Bluefur hurried to meet him. “Is she okay?”

  Featherwhisker didn’t answer. “I need moss soaked with water, and herbs,” he mewed. “Go and ask Goosefeather to give you raspberry leaves.”

  Bluefur’s belly tightened. The medicine cat apprentice looked strained, and she was frightened; he might panic if he knew that Goosefeather had wandered off. “He’s not in his den,” she mewed hesitantly.

  “Okay.” Featherwhisker stared at her, his mind clearly racing. “They look like this.” He quickly traced out a leaf shape in the dust with his claw. “You’ll have to gather them. I can’t leave her.”

  Pelts were bristling around the clearing as the Clan realized that all was not going well. Bluefur stared in panic at the shape he’d scratched. It looked like any other leaf.

  “It’s soft to touch but the edges are jagged,” Featherwhisker told her. “And they’re stacked near the back of the den.” He paused. “Near the catmint. You remember the catmint?”

  Bluefur nodded. “I’ll find it,” she promised.

  Snowfur brushed up beside her. “And I’ll get the moss.”

  Together they charged to the medicine den. While Snowfur picked bundles of moss from the pool at the clearing’s edge, Bluefur slipped into the crack in the rock. The pungent odors of herbs brought back the memory of sneaking in there as a kit with her sister. She wondered how they ever could have been so foolish, and a jab of grief pierced her as she remembered Moonflower dragging them out, her eyes round with fear for her daughters.

  I can’t think about that now. She had to find the catmint. Sniffing, she crept along the row of herbs stacked against the wall. It was so dark she could hardly see them, but their flavors were strong on the air. Just as Featherwhisker had said, the catmint was near the back. She recognized the mouthwatering scent at once. Reaching out with her paw, she began to feel the herbs stacked around it. Her pad brushed a soft leaf. She picked it up between her teeth and felt the edges with her tongue. Jagged. This must be it. Snatching a mouthful, she dashed out of the shadowy den into the soft light of dusk and hurried back to the nursery.

  Snowfur was already at the entrance. “He took the moss inside,” she mewed. Bluefur nosed her way through the prickly entrance and dropped the leaves at Featherwhisker’s paws. “Are these the right ones?”

  He nodded. “Well done.”

  Bluefur saw Leopardfoot in her nest. Her heart sank. Leopardfoot looked tiny against the moss and bracken, her eyes wild with pain, her pelt matted and smelling of fear.

  Swiftbreeze lifted Leopardfoot’s chin with a paw. “Try drinking a little.” She pushed the dripping moss ball closer and Leopardfoot licked at it, then coughed as her body heaved suddenly.

  Swiftbreeze pricked her ears. “Are they coming?”

  “Nearly,” Featherwhisker soothed. He chewed the leaves into a pulp and dropped them in front of Leopardfoot’s muzzle. “Eat this.” His mew was soft but firm, and Leopardfoot lapped obediently at the pulp, struggling to swallow as her body heaved again.

  Bluefur reached forward and pressed her muzzle to Leopardfoot’s head. “You can do it,” she whispered. “You always were the strongest. And just think of the beautiful kits you’ll have! They’ll all be great warriors.”

  Leopardfoot blinked at her dully, and Bluefur wondered if she’d even heard. She backed toward the entrance.

  “Thank you,” Featherwhisker murmured. Nodding, Bluefur slipped from the den.

  Outside, the entire Clan was uneasy. Stormtail, Sunfall, Adderfang, and Tawnyspots paced the clearing, their pelts pricking as though frustrated that they could not fight this battle with Leopardfoot. Larksong and Stonepelt had been joined by Mumblefoot and Weedwhisker, and they huddled beneath Highrock, eyes glowing in the shadows. White-eye pressed against Sparrowpelt while Robinwing and Thrushpelt circled them, glancing every now and then at the darkening sky.

  Goosefeather appeared from the gorse tunnel and padded straight to his den. He didn’t even stop to ask how Leopardfoot was. Bluefur pressed back the urge to rake his muzzle with her claws. He’s supposed to be the Clan medicine cat, for StarClan’s sake!

  At least Pinestar had got to his paws and was padding among his Clanmates. “We must eat,” he ordered. “Starving ourselves won’t make these kits come any quicker.”

  Bluefur scowled at him. These kits! They were his kits. Didn’t he care?

  Sunfall nodded and took a pigeon from the fresh-kill pile. Lionpaw picked up a squirrel and carried it awkwardly to the tree stump. Thistlepaw was already eating with Snowfur beside the nettle patch.

  Sweetpaw looked up and caught Bluefur’s eye. “Join us,” she called. She was sharing a mouse with Rosepaw.

  Bluefur padded gratefully toward the two apprentices. She wasn’t hungry but needed the comfort of sharing food with Clanmates. As she took a bite of mouse, she glanced at the nursery. Come and join us! she begged her unb
orn Clanmates.

  While the Clan shared tongues after the meal, Silverpelt began to glitter overhead. Sunfall yawned and got to his paws. “There will be duties tomorrow…whatever happens tonight.” He glanced at the nursery and padded away to his den. Nodding and sighing, the rest of the Clan cats began to melt away to their nests.

  Thrushpelt padded past Bluefur. “You have to sleep, too,” he meowed.

  “I will…soon,” Bluefur promised, knowing it would be impossible. How could she sleep, knowing Leopardfoot was suffering?

  As Thrushpelt padded away, a tiny wail sounded from the nursery. Bluefur jumped to her paws. A kit?

  Goosefeather came hurrying from the medicine den and disappeared into the nursery. He reappeared a moment later. “The first kit has been born!” he called. “A she-cat!”

  Heads poked from dens, and murmurs of joy and relief rippled around the camp. Bluefur rushed past Goosefeather and pushed her way into the nursery. “Is Leopardfoot okay?” she demanded.

  Swiftbreeze was lapping Leopardfoot’s ears; she looked up, her eyes glowing with hope. Featherwhisker was busy crouched over the young queen, and Bluefur held her breath as another kit plopped out onto the moss. Featherwhisker lapped it and, grasping it by its scruff, dropped it beside its littermate at Leopardfoot’s belly.

  “One more to go,” he mewed.

  Leopardfoot shuddered as the last kit fell into the nest. “A tom!” Featherwhisker mewed happily. He lapped it and placed it beside the other two.

  Swiftbreeze purred as Leopardfoot strained to lap at her three kits. Relief and joy flooded Bluefur, and she backed out of the nursery. The Clan had gathered around Pinestar in the clearing.

  “Congratulations!” Adderfang meowed.

  “Another battle fought and won,” Sunfall purred.

  Goosefeather shouldered past Bluefur and disappeared back into the nursery.

  Dappletail raced up to Bluefur. “Have you seen them?”

  She nodded. “Two she-cats and a tom.”

  “Did you hear that?” Dappletail turned at once to White-eye. “Two she-cats and a tom.”

  The news whispered like wind through the Clan, and purrs rose from the clearing.

  Goosefeather struggled from the nursery once again and padded across the clearing. “Don’t celebrate too soon. Those kits may not make it through the night.” Shoulders hunched, he disappeared into the shadows of the fern tunnel. His words echoed behind him, sending shivers through the Clan.