Bluestar's Prophecy

  “Thank you, all of you.” Dipping his head, he ducked away and disappeared into his den.

  It almost sounds as though he was saying good-bye. She’d overheard Larksong telling Mumblefoot that Pinestar was on his last life. Perhaps that’s why the Clan leader had sounded so somber. Each battle could be his last.

  Bluefur got to her paws, her neck aching again, and headed for her den. Snowfur was already there, circling into her nest. Thistleclaw was curled on the ground beside her. He’d have to build himself a nest tomorrow, and Bluefur guessed with a snort where he’d build it. She shivered, missing the comfort of her sister’s pelt. Snowfur used to press against Bluefur, keeping her warm with her fluffy white fur, but tonight she was curled as near to Thistleclaw as the bracken would allow. Bluefur sighed. Now that he’d moved into the warriors’ den, there would be no getting away from the conceited young tom. If Snowfur had to find a mate, why couldn’t she pick a cat that Bluefur actually liked?

  CHAPTER 22

  “She won’t wake up! She won’t wake up!”

  Poppydawn’s terrified mew rang around the sleeping camp.

  Bluefur shot out of her nest.

  Sweetpaw!

  She knew instinctively the moment she reached the clearing and saw Poppydawn’s wild eyes that the tortoiseshell apprentice was dead.

  “I’ve licked and shaken her and she won’t open her eyes!” the queen cried out in anguish.

  The Clan cats were hurrying from their dens, blinking in the predawn light, as Bluefur pushed her way into the apprentices’ den and crouched beside Sweetpaw’s nest. She pressed her muzzle into her former denmate’s fur. The strange still-ness of her body and the coldness of her pelt pierced Bluefur’s heart. She had been beside a cat like this before—and all the wishing in the world hadn’t brought Moonflower back.

  “Sweetpaw,” she whispered, knowing the apprentice couldn’t hear her. “Sweetpaw.” Grief blurring her gaze, she rested her chin on Sweetpaw’s flank.

  The ferns rustled, and Featherwhisker slid into the den. Bluefur lifted her head and stared at the apprentice medicine cat. “She’s dead.”

  “She’ll be with StarClan now,” Featherwhisker murmured. He pressed his muzzle to Bluefur’s head as though guessing her thoughts. “Moonflower will look after her.”

  She blinked. “But Sweetpaw’s not a warrior,” she breathed. “Will she be allowed to join StarClan?”

  “Of course,” Featherwhisker mewed. “She was born a Clan cat. StarClan will welcome her.”

  But we’ll never hunt together.

  Featherwhisker nudged her gently. “Wait outside, please,” he mewed.

  Bluefur pushed through the ferns and saw the eyes of her Clan flashing in the half-light.

  Poppydawn stared at her and spoke in a dull voice. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  Rosepaw was sitting at her mother’s side. She pressed harder against Poppydawn as Bluefur nodded.

  Thistleclaw joined them, his tail trailing. “Can I see her?” he asked.

  Poppydawn touched the top of his head lightly with her tail. “Of course, little one. Wish your sister well on her journey to our ancestors.”

  As Thistleclaw disappeared into the den, Rosepaw looked at her mother. “Were you with her when…?”

  “I was asleep.” Poppydawn choked with grief. “I woke up and she smelled”—she seemed to search for the word—“different.”

  Bluefur understood. She remembered the scent of her mother’s body, a scent of death that even lavender and rosemary could not disguise.

  A tiny mew sounded outside the nursery. Bluefur peered past the pelts of her Clanmates and saw a tiny tabby tom sitting at the edge of the clearing.

  Sunfall padded forward to greet him. “Hey, there! Are you Tigerkit?”

  The kit stared straight past him at the somber gathering of cats. “What’s going on?” he squeaked.

  “Sweetpaw’s dead,” Sunfall told him gravely.

  Tigerkit tipped his head on one side. “Was she a warrior?”

  “Tigerkit!” Swiftbreeze hopped out of the nursery. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I wanted to know why everyone was awake,” Tigerkit replied.

  Swiftbreeze licked his head. “I can see you’re going to be the inquisitive one.” She glanced at Sunfall. “He was the weakest of the litter, and now he’s the strongest.”

  “I was never the weakest,” Tigerkit protested, opening his tiny pink mouth wide in indignation.

  “Of course not, little one.” Swiftbreeze scooped him up by the scruff and carried him, paws churning, back into the nursery.

  Goosefeather padded from the fern tunnel. “What’s going on?”

  Poppydawn flashed him a reproachful look. “Sweetpaw’s dead.”

  Goosefeather sighed. “When StarClan calls, even the best medicine cat cannot heal.”

  Featherwhisker appeared from the nursery. “Goosefeather’s right,” he mewed. “We did all we could.”

  “We’re lucky to have you, Featherwhisker,” Dappletail meowed. No cat spoke up for Goosefeather.

  With a cold feeling deep inside her fur, Bluefur realized that the Clan seemed to have lost all faith in its old medicine cat. When White-eye had a thorn in her pad, it had been Featherwhisker she’d sought out, and Swiftbreeze now consulted with the apprentice medicine cat about Leopardfoot and her kits whenever she was worried.

  Bluefur glanced at Goosefeather. He didn’t seem to have noticed Dappletail’s slanted comment; his eyes were unfocused, as though something else was crowding his thoughts. If no cat trusted Goosefeather anymore, was Bluefur foolish to believe his prophecy?

  Dappletail pressed against Poppydawn. “I’ll help you prepare Sweetpaw for the vigil,” she murmured.

  Poppydawn blinked. “Yes.” She stood up. “I’ll get rosemary.”

  Bluefur turned away. She could not bear to see anther cat prepared for their journey to StarClan. She felt Sunfall’s muzzle brush her shoulder.

  “Come with me,” he ordered. “I’m taking the dawn patrol.” He nodded to Lionpaw. “You can come, too.”

  Rosepaw stepped forward. “Can I?”

  “Of course.” Sunfall brushed his tail along the flank of the grieving apprentice.

  “Tawnyspots?” He signaled to Rosepaw’s mentor. “Call Swiftbreeze and join us.”

  Bluefur’s paws were heavy as she padded through the tunnel behind the Clan deputy and the rest of the patrol, but she was relieved to leave her mourning Clanmates behind. Once they’d reached the top of the ravine and headed into the forest, Sunfall fell in beside her.

  “I know Sweetpaw’s death is sad,” he meowed quietly. “But the Clan must carry on. The borders must be guarded and the fresh-kill pile must remain stocked.”

  Bluefur felt heavy inside, as if her belly were filled with stones. But Sunfall was right. She had to protect her Clan, however much pain she was in. The other cats were suffering, too.

  The patrol moved slowly through the trees, with Swiftbreeze pressing close to Rosepaw. No one spoke as they neared the border with Sunningrocks. The sun had lifted over the horizon, and its pale light filtered through the trees. Birds were stirring, their calls filling the forest with song. Bluefur wished they’d shut up. Don’t be mouse-brained! she told herself. How are they supposed to know or care that Sweetpaw is dead?

  “Wait!” Sunfall’s hiss surprised her, and she froze with one front paw still in the air.

  The ThunderClan deputy was sniffing the breeze, the fur lifting along his spine. “RiverClan!”

  Bluefur scanned the trees along the edge of the forest and saw Sunningrocks glowing in the dawn light. RiverClan scent was drifting over the border, stronger than before.

  “Look!” Swiftbreeze had dropped into a crouch. Her eyes were fixed on a leafy rise, sloping beyond a swath of brambles. “They’ve crossed the border!”

  Bluefur bristled when she spotted the tip of a sleek, oily tail, then another. The tang of fish bathed her tongue
. Branches swished as a RiverClan patrol moved stealthily through the undergrowth.

  “I knew it!” Sunfall growled. Keeping low so that his orange pelt was hidden by ferns, he signaled to Lionpaw. “Go back to the camp and tell Pinestar we’re being invaded! Those RiverClan warriors have deliberately crossed the border. We can’t let them get away with it. Pinestar needs to send a fighting patrol here at once.”

  Lionpaw nodded and whipped around. He squeezed past Bluefur and Tawnyspots and pelted back along the trail that led to the ravine.

  “Get back!” Sunfall ordered the rest of his patrol, keeping his mew low. He scooted into thick ferns and the patrol followed, crouching among the fronds. Anger raged in Bluefur’s belly. Why should they have to hide in their own territory?

  “We’ll attack as soon as the backup patrol gets here,” Sunfall breathed.

  The RiverClan patrol was moving more clumsily now that they’d reached the brambles. Bluefur heard one cat curse and imagined the thorns dragging at the thick RiverClan pelts. They weren’t used to this dense scrub, or to forest thorns.

  Let it slow them down! she prayed, unsheathing her claws. She tried to peer through the leaves. How many RiverClan warriors were there? Were they heading for the camp? She scowled at the RiverClan stench. “They’re leaving markers!” she growled to Sunfall. “On our territory!”

  “They don’t know which way to head,” Swiftbreeze observed.

  The RiverClan patrol was struggling through the brambles, heading away from the ravine.

  “What’s their plan?” Rosepaw asked.

  Sunfall paused, considering the situation. “There aren’t enough of them to attack the camp—and if that’s their aim, they’re going the wrong way, thank StarClan. My guess is that they’re looking for a patrol to attack.”

  “But why?” Bluefur struggled to understand what RiverClan could possibly gain by sending so few warriors, and so unprepared, into rival territory.

  “They want to prove that this part of the forest is theirs.”

  “Never!” Bluefur fought the urge to race out of the bushes and hurl herself at the RiverClan patrol. She knew it would be reckless and pointless. What could she alone do against a whole patrol? But she was supposed to be fire, blazing through the forest! Perhaps she should attack like Thistleclaw had attacked that dog. She closed her eyes and ran through the battle moves Sunfall had taught her.

  Sunfall must have sensed her paws shifting restlessly. “We’ll attack as soon as the other patrol gets here,” he promised.

  Ferns rustled behind them, and Thrushpelt pushed his way through. “We’ve seen the RiverClan patrol,” he reported, “but they didn’t see us. They’re too busy fighting thorns.”

  Sunfall chuckled. “I get the feeling they’re not too comfortable on ThunderClan territory.”

  “We should force them to fight where the undergrowth is thickest,” Thrushpelt suggested.

  “Won’t that make it harder to attack?” Swiftbreeze questioned.

  “Hard for us, but even harder for them,” Sunfall answered. “They’re not used to brambles, and we are.” He glanced at Thrushpelt. “Who did you bring?”

  “Stormtail, Thistleclaw, Fuzzypelt, Snowfur, Windflight, and Patchpelt,” Thrushpelt reported. “There’s another patrol waiting at the top of the ravine, in case RiverClan breaks through our line. We didn’t know how many warriors RiverClan had brought.”

  Sunfall narrowed his eyes. “We have enough to drive them off.”

  Thistleclaw shouldered his way to the front. “We should do more than drive them off,” he growled. “We should give them a battle they won’t forget in a hurry.”

  “Once they know we can drive them away, they’ll think twice about invading again,” Sunfall pointed out. He swung his head around to Stormtail. “We’ll split into three patrols. You head one and meet them on the rise up there.” He signaled toward a slope where the RiverClan cats seemed to be heading. “Take Patchpelt and Swiftbreeze. You attack first. We’ll come in from the sides as you drive them back. Windflight?”

  The gray tabby warrior lifted his chin. “Yes?”

  “Stay here with Fuzzypelt, Thrushpelt, and Thistleclaw. Attack when you hear Stormtail’s signal.” He went on. “I’ll take Bluefur, Snowfur, Rosepaw, and Tawnyspots and attack their other flank. We’ll leave the path to the border clear so they can retreat.”

  “We should shred them where they fall, not let them escape,” Thistleclaw hissed.

  Sunfall glared at him. “Warriors do not need to shed blood to win battles.”

  He slid through the ferns, and Bluefur followed with Snowfur at her heels. Sunfall led them toward the ravine and doubled back, using another route, until they could see the RiverClan warriors fighting their way out of the brambles.

  Bluefur heard one of the warriors hissing, “What do we want such stupid territory for?”

  “More prey for RiverClan, less for ThunderClan.” That was Shellheart, the RiverClan deputy. “Now stop fussing and keep moving.”

  Bluefur peered over the low bushes. The wind was with them, blowing RiverClan’s scent over Stormtail’s patrol as it waited to ambush. As RiverClan headed up the slope, Bluefur saw the ferns quiver where Windflight’s patrol crouched, ready for Stormtail’s signal.

  The RiverClan patrol looked strong and fit. Bluefur bared her teeth. We’ll just have to fight harder, then. They’d escaped the brambles, though their fur was matted with thorns. Creeping up the rise, ears flat, tails down, they halted at a flick of Shellheart’s tail. Her hackles were up.

  “I smell ThunderClan,” she warned.

  Timberfur, a brown RiverClan warrior, tasted the air. “Fresh scent.” The warriors behind looked warily over their shoulder. “Perhaps—”

  Timberfur didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

  Stormtail launched himself at Shellheart, yowling the signal. Swiftbreeze and Patchpelt hurtled after. Timberfur reared up, Shellheart ducked, and the other warriors spun around, their eyes wide, as Windflight’s patrol exploded from the ferns to one side.

  “Attack!” Sunfall screeched, pelting forward.

  Bluefur surged after him and flung herself onto the back of a RiverClan warrior. She recognized the black-and-silver markings of Rippleclaw as she dug her claws into his pelt, struggling to get a grip on the oily fur. Rippleclaw shook her off and turned, rearing up. There wasn’t enough time to scramble to her paws. Bluefur rolled out of the way a heartbeat before he crashed down where she’d fallen. His paws caught in a trailing tendril, and he cursed as the thorns sliced his pads.

  Bluefur raked her claw down his flank as he turned on her, his ears flattened. She tried to duck but Rippleclaw’s blow came too fast. A heavy forepaw swiped her muzzle, and pain shot through her. As she stumbled and pressed a paw to her bleeding nose, a white pelt flashed beside her. Snowfur reared up and began batting Rippleclaw hard, one paw after another.

  Yes! Memories of the fight with Crookedjaw flooded back to Bluefur. They’d won together before; they’d win again this time!

  Bluefur pushed herself up on her hind legs beside her sister and joined in. Rippleclaw staggered backward, his flailing paws defending now, not attacking. They drove him back into a bramble bush. He tripped as branches swarmed around his hind legs, yowling when the thorns pierced his pelt. Together Bluefur and Snowfur dropped onto all four paws and, as one, began nipping at him.

  Confused and panicking, Rippleclaw struggled free of the brambles. He leaped and turned, but Snowfur and Bluefur pressed on with their attack, Snowfur biting his flanks from one side and, when Rippleclaw twisted to attack them, Bluefur cuffing him from the other. Screeching in rage, the black-and-silver tom jumped over their backs and hared away through the trees.

  “One down,” Snowfur puffed.

  “More to go.” Bluefur spun around, tasting the air. She couldn’t detect the scents of Crookedjaw or Oakheart. That’s good, right? Because they’re both strong warriors, and I wouldn’t want to meet them here a
fter fighting for this long already.

  She ducked out of the way as Windflight chased another RiverClan warrior, yelping, into the trees. Thrushpelt rolled past Bluefur’s paws clutching Ottersplash, clawing her spine with his hind claws until the RiverClan warrior yowled for mercy.

  Stormtail aimed a hefty swipe at a RiverClan apprentice and sent him bowling into his Clanmate. The two cats lost their balance and Stormtail jumped on them, clawing one with his forepaws while he sent the other flying with a mighty kick from his hind legs.

  “Fight, you mouse-hearts!” Shellheart howled at her Clanmates, as Bluefur sprang at her and landed on her back.

  “Did you think it would be easy?” she hissed as she sank her teeth into the RiverClan deputy’s shoulder.

  Claws hooked Bluefur in return, and Shellheart managed to tear her off. She yowled as her forepaw was wrenched, its claw still tangled in Shellheart’s fur. Sick with agony, she freed herself and spun around.

  Timberfur faced her.

  Gasping with pain, Bluefur reared up to fight the burly brown tom, but Snowfur was already dragging him backward, sinking her teeth into his scruff. As he toppled over, Bluefur rushed at his belly, crashing into him so hard she heard the breath rush from him. Gasping, Timberfur wriggled free and fled toward the RiverClan border.

  A frightened shriek ripped the air.

  “Rosepaw!” Bluefur shot through the brambles, slithering between the branches with practiced ease. Bursting out on the other side, she saw Rosepaw cornered between the roots of an oak by two RiverClan warriors.

  “Pick on someone your own size!” Bluefur yowled and flung herself onto the back of the biggest tom.

  “RiverClan has never fought fair!” Snowfur’s screech sounded behind her, and as Bluefur tumbled the big tom over, she saw her sister sink her claws into the other tom’s pelt and drag him away from the startled ThunderClan apprentice.

  Her mouth choked with RiverClan fur, Bluefur managed to yell at Rosepaw. “Go for his belly!”

  Rosepaw lunged forward, thrashing at the tom with unsheathed claws until he twisted so hard in Bluefur’s grip, she had to let go. The tom growled and swiped at Rosepaw, but the apprentice was too fast. She ducked out of the way, and the tom shredded bark instead.