Bluestar's Prophecy

  Forgetting that she was cross with Snowkit, Bluekit meowed, “Follow me!” She ran over to the lichen, then reached out and prodded it with her paw. It swung under her touch and then gave way. Her paw sank through the brush and into empty space.

  “There’s a gap!” Excited, Bluekit pushed her way through and found herself in a quiet cove. Its floor and walls were smooth and, although no cat was there, a nest of moss lay at one side. “It’s a den,” she hissed back through the lichen to Snowkit.

  “It’s Pinestar’s den,” replied a voice that wasn’t her sister’s.

  Bluekit froze for a moment, then backed cautiously out of the cave. Was she in trouble again?

  A pale silver tom with bright amber eyes was sitting beside Snowkit.

  “Hello, Bluekit.”

  Bluekit tilted her head. “How do you know my name?” she asked.

  “I was at your kitting,” the tom told her. “I’m Featherwhisker, the medicine cat’s apprentice.” He nodded toward Pinestar’s den. “You shouldn’t go in there unless you’ve been invited.” His mew was soft but grave.

  “I didn’t realize it was his den. I just wondered what was behind the lichen.” Bluekit looked down at her paws. “Are you going to tell Pinestar?”

  “Yes.”

  Bluekit’s heart lurched.

  “It’s better that I tell him. He’ll smell your scent anyway,” Featherwhisker explained.

  Bluekit looked up at him anxiously. Would Pinestar say she couldn’t be a warrior now?

  “Don’t worry,” Featherwhisker reassured her. “He won’t be angry. He’ll probably admire your curiosity.”

  “Can I go and look too, then?” Snowkit mewed.

  Featherwhisker purred. “One kit’s scent will smell like curiosity,” he told her. “Two kits’ scents will smell like nosiness.”

  Snowkit’s tail drooped.

  “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to see inside one day,” Featherwhisker promised. “Why don’t I take you to meet the elders instead? They like meeting the new kits.”

  Again they were to be shown around! Annoyance prickled in Bluekit’s pelt, but she reminded herself what Stonepelt had said: A good warrior learns from her Clanmates.

  Featherwhisker led them to the fallen tree and squeezed under a jutting branch. Bluekit trotted after, Snowkit at her heels.

  Grass, ferns, and moss sprouted from every crevice in the tangle of wood, turning the decaying bark green with newleaf freshness. Bluekit followed Featherwhisker as he weaved his way through a maze of twigs until he reached an open space among the tangled branches.

  A mangy brown tom was lying with his back to the fallen trunk, while a tortoiseshell she-cat groomed his ears with her tongue. A second tom, his orange pelt flecked with white, was eating a mouse at the other end of the den.

  The tortoiseshell looked up as Featherwhisker entered. “Have you brought mouse bile?” She looked hopeful. “Mumblefoot’s got another tick.”

  “He insists on hunting every day,” the orange tom commented. “He’s bound to get ticks.”

  “The day I stop hunting, Weedwhisker, is the day you can sit vigil for me,” meowed Mumblefoot.

  Weedwhisker took another bite of his mouse. “I’ll never stop hunting, either,” he muttered with his mouth full. “There aren’t enough apprentices to keep us fed these days.”

  “Patchkit and Leopardkit will be starting their training soon,” Featherwhisker reminded them. “And we’ve got another pair on the way to becoming apprentices.” He stepped aside, revealing Bluekit and Snowkit.

  Weedwhisker looked up from his mouse. Mumblefoot sat up, pricking his ears.

  “Kits!” The tortoiseshell she-cat’s eyes brightened, and she hurried forward and gave Bluekit a soggy lick on her cheek. Bluekit ducked away, rubbing her wet face with her paw, then stifled a purr as Snowkit received the same welcome.

  “It’s their first time out of the nursery, Larksong,” Featherwhisker explained. “I caught them trying to make a nest in Pinestar’s den.”

  “We were not—” Bluekit started to object.

  “Don’t take any notice of Featherwhisker,” Larksong interrupted. “He teases all the cats. It’s one of the privileges of being medicine cat.”

  “Medicine cat apprentice,” Featherwhisker corrected her.

  “Huh!” Mumblefoot wrapped his tail over his paws. “Which means you do all of Goosefeather’s duties while that lazy old badger pretends to look for herbs.”

  “Hush!” Larksong looked sternly at her denmate. “Goosefeather does his best.”

  Mumblefoot snorted. “What herb was he supposedly collecting this morning?” he asked Featherwhisker.

  The medicine cat apprentice twitched his ears. “Comfrey.”

  “Well, I saw him sunning himself by the Owl Tree, fast asleep. His snoring was scaring the prey.” He flicked his tail toward the morsel that Weedwhisker was enjoying. “It took me an age to find that.”

  “Goosefeather has taught me a lot,” Featherwhisker said in defense of his mentor. “And there’s no herb in the forest he doesn’t know how to use.”

  “If he can be bothered to pick them,” Mumblefoot muttered.

  Featherwhisker glanced at Bluekit and Leopardkit. “Take no notice,” he meowed. “Goosefeather and Mumblefoot have never seen eye to eye.”

  “And you shouldn’t be saying such things, Mumblefoot,” Larksong scolded. “You know Goosefeather is their kin.”

  “He is?” Bluekit blinked at the tortoiseshell.

  “He was your mother’s littermate,” Larksong explained. She swept Bluekit and Snowkit forward with her tail. “Come and tell us all about yourselves.”

  “My name is Bluekit, and this is my sister, Snowkit. Our mother is Moonflower and our father is Stormtail,” Bluekit chirped. “And today is the first time we’ve been out of the nursery!”

  Weedwhisker licked his lips as he swallowed the last of the mouse. “Welcome to the Clan, little ones. I’m sure you’ll be up to trouble in no time. Kits can’t seem to help themselves.”

  Bluekit pricked her ears. “Have Leopardkit and Patchkit been in trouble?”

  Larksong purred. “I don’t know a kit who hasn’t.”

  Relief warmed Bluekit’s belly. She didn’t want to be the only one who got things wrong. Like having a squirrel fall on my head.

  “It’s about time Pinestar made those two apprentices,” Mumblefoot croaked. “They have too much time on their paws. Every time I go to the fresh-kill pile, I trip over one of them kicking up dust with some silly game or other.”

  “I’ll ask Swiftbreeze if I can take them herb gathering in the forest tomorrow,” Featherwhisker suggested. “That should keep them busy.”

  Bluekit’s eyes grew wide. “In the forest?” she echoed.

  Featherwhisker nodded. “We won’t go far from camp.”

  That must be where Dapplepaw was taking Patchkit and Leopardkit. Bluekit wondered how much more there was beyond the clearing and the dens.

  Beside her, Snowkit yawned.

  “You’d better be getting them back to their mother,” Larksong advised. “Snowkit looks like she’s going to fall asleep on her paws.”

  Bluekit turned to see her sister’s eyes drooping. She suddenly realized that her own legs ached and her belly was rumbling. But she didn’t want to leave; she wanted to learn more. What did Mumblefoot’s tick look like? Where was Goosefeather now?

  “Come on.” Featherwhisker began to usher them out of the den.

  “How can we learn anything back in the nursery?” Bluekit objected.

  “You’ll learn a lot more once you’ve rested,” Larksong meowed.

  “Come back and see us soon!” Weedwhisker called.

  Bluekit stumbled as they crossed the clearing. Though her mind whirled with questions, her paws were clumsy with fatigue. She felt relieved when Featherwhisker nudged her into the nursery.

  “What did you see, little one?” Moonflower asked as Bluekit snuggled down beside
her mother with Snowkit.

  “Everything,” Bluekit yawned.

  Moonflower purred. “Not everything, my darling.” Bluekit closed her eyes as her mother went on softly. “There’s a whole forest for you to explore. And even that is just part of the Clans’ territories. There are lands beyond—Mothermouth, Highstones, and even farther.”

  “How far does the world stretch?” Snowkit murmured sleepily.

  “Only StarClan knows,” Moonflower replied.

  Bluekit imagined trees and bracken and nettles and gorse stretching far beyond the camp into an endless sky. “But my legs aren’t long enough to travel that far,” she protested. As her visions faded into dreams, she heard her mother’s voice continue.

  “They’ll grow, my sweet, until one day they’ll be strong enough to walk the whole world.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Bluekit watched Snowkit’s tail flick enticingly, and pushed away the urge to leap on it and pin it to the ground. She didn’t dare risk getting her pelt dusty.

  “And remember,” Moonflower said, giving Bluekit’s ears another wash, “sit up straight and be polite.”

  Bluekit rolled her eyes.

  The three of them were waiting at the edge of the clearing.

  “It’ll be the first time Stormtail’s seen you since you opened your eyes,” Moonflower reminded them unnecessarily. Bluekit’s belly had been knotted with excitement all morning. She wanted her father to see that she wasn’t a tiny, mewling kit anymore.

  Moonflower glanced at the gorse barrier. “He promised he’d be back from hunting by sunhigh.”

  Bluekit kept her paws rooted to the ground. It was hard sitting still when the camp was so busy with new smells and sights.

  Mumblefoot and Larksong had come out of the elders’ den. Featherwhisker was padding toward them with a ball of moss dangling from his jaws. Bluekit guessed there was something stinky in it, because he was wrinkling his nose as though he were carrying fox dung. Beside the nettle patch, a large tom with a pelt as fiery as the sun was sharing prey with three warriors.

  “Is that Sunfall?” Bluekit asked.

  “Yes.” Moonflower had begun grooming Snowkit. “And that’s Robinwing, Tawnyspots, and Fuzzypelt with him,” she meowed between licks. “Oh, and Thrushpelt has just come out of the warriors’ den.”

  Snowkit fidgeted beneath her mother’s tongue, complaining to Bluekit, “Did she wash you this hard?” But Bluekit hardly heard; she was too busy gazing at the warriors. She wanted to memorize Robinwing’s brown pelt, so she could always pick her out from the others in a battle. Tawnyspots would be harder to make out, she decided, because of his pale gray tabby fur. But his ears had tufts on the tips—she’d remember that. Fuzzypelt would be easy to recognize anywhere; his black fur stuck out like a hedgehog’s bristles. Thrushpelt was sandy gray, like the pebbles she and Snowkit played with in the nursery. He had bright green eyes and a splash of white on his chest that looked like a fluffy cloud. He was much smaller than the others.

  “Didn’t Thrushpelt grow properly?” Bluekit mewed to her mother.

  Moonflower purred. “No, little one—he’s just the youngest warrior. He received his name only a quarter moon ago. He’ll grow—you’ll see.”

  The gorse barrier swished and Bluekit glanced around. Was it Stormtail? Disappointment hit her when Stonepelt padded into the camp with a bird in his jaws. She shuffled her paws, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. She wasn’t sure if he’d forgiven her for crashing into the warriors’ den.

  “That was a sneaky move!” Dapplepaw yowled on the other side of the clearing. She rolled away from Whitepaw and leaped to her paws. The two she-cats were practicing battle moves beside the tree stump.

  Whitepaw shook out her fur. “Not sneaky! Pure skill!” She stared at her denmate crossly, her cloudy eye glinting in the sunshine. Bluekit knew she couldn’t see out of that eye, but she could hear so well that it was impossible to creep up on her. Bluekit and Snowkit had tried several times.

  “Lucky hit!” Dapplepaw retorted. “Patchkit could do better!”

  Where was Patchkit?

  Bluekit scanned the clearing. There! Leopardkit and Patchkit were crouching outside the warriors’ den, glancing at each other as if they were planning something. What were they up to?

  “I’m clean enough!”

  Bluekit’s attention snapped back to her sister as Snowkit ducked away from their mother’s tongue.

  Moonflower sat back. “You look lovely.”

  Snowkit snorted and ruffled the wet fur around her ears with her paw. Bluekit puffed out her chest and lined her paws smartly in front of her. Please let Stormtail be proud of me! Moonflower had told them over and over what a great warrior their father was, how he was brave and good at fighting and one of the best hunters in ThunderClan. I hope I grow up to be like him.

  “Why couldn’t Stormtail come to the nursery to see us?” Snowkit whined. “Adderfang’s always coming to the nursery to see Patchkit and Leopardkit. He brought them a mouse last time.”

  “Your father came to see you as soon as you were born.” Moonflower hooked her paw around Snowkit’s waving tail and wrapped it neatly over her paws. “He’s a very important warrior. He doesn’t have time to bring you treats.” She stepped back and looked her kits over once more. “Besides, you’re not big enough to eat mice yet.”

  Bluekit scrunched up her eyes as she glanced at the sun. It was almost directly overhead. Stormtail would be there soon. She twisted to see the gorse barrier. She knew the warrior patrol would come through the gap in the middle. Patchkit had been telling her about Clan life—about hunting patrols and border patrols. He had explained how a warrior hunts first for the Clan and only then for himself.

  Bluekit was determined that she would always make sure her Clan was well fed, even if she had to starve to do it.

  Moonflower stiffened, her nose twitching. “He’s here!”

  “Where?” Snowkit leaped up and spun around, spraying dust over Bluekit’s pelt.

  “Sit down!” Moonflower ordered.

  As Snowkit quickly sat down and wrapped her tail back over her paws, Bluekit saw the gorse barrier tremble. A dark brown tabby padded through the entrance with a thrush in his jaws, followed by a pale tabby she-cat.

  “Who’s that?” Bluekit was impressed by the two voles swinging from the tabby’s jaws.

  “The tom is Sparrowpelt, and the she-cat is Speckletail.” Moonflower pricked her ears. “There he is!”

  A large gray tom followed Speckletail into camp. His shoulders brushed the gorse, making the spikes quiver. He held his broad head high and his chin up, and his blue eyes shone like stars. In his jaws was the largest squirrel Bluekit had seen yet.

  “Look what he’s brought us to play with!” Snowkit gasped.

  “That’s not for us, silly!” Bluekit whispered, remembering what Patchkit had told her. “It’s for the whole Clan.”

  “And we’ll be eating it, not playing with it,” Moonflower put in sternly.

  Snowkit’s shoulders slumped as she watched her father follow his patrol to the fresh-kill pile and lay the squirrel alongside the other prey. Then he turned and looked around the camp.

  “Sit up straight!” Moonflower hissed.

  Bluekit thought if she sat up any straighter she’d topple over backward, but she held herself as stiffly as she could until Stormtail’s gaze finally reached them.

  A purr rumbled in her mother’s throat. “Stormtail.” Moonflower beckoned him toward Snowkit and Bluekit with her tail. “Come and meet your kits.”

  Stormtail padded toward them and halted. “They look better with their eyes open,” he commented. His mew rumbled so deeply it sounded more like a growl.

  “Do you see?” Moonflower prompted. “They both have blue eyes like you.”

  Yes! Bluekit stretched her eyes wider so her father could admire them, but he hardly seemed to glance at her before he turned back to Moonflower. “They look like they’ll make good warriors.” r />
  “Of course they will,” Moonflower purred. “They’re your kits.”

  Bluekit stepped forward. “Was it hard to catch that squirrel?” She wanted Stormtail to look at her again. He might notice how much her pelt was like his.

  He looked down at her and blinked. “Fat squirrels are easy to catch.”

  “Will you teach us how to catch squirrels?” Snowkit asked, her tail stirring up the dust behind her.

  “Your mentors will teach you,” Stormtail replied. “I hope Pinestar chooses well for you.”

  Who would he choose? As Bluekit’s gaze wandered to the warriors’ den, the branches quivered and Adderfang padded out. With mews of delight, Leopardkit and Patchkit pounced on him. Leopardkit clung to her father’s tail while Patchkit landed squarely on his shoulders. Adderfang staggered and, with an exaggerated grunt of surprise, collapsed dramatically to the ground. Leopardkit and Patchkit leaped onto his belly, squeaking, but Adderfang tumbled them off with a purr and chased them away behind the den.

  Stormtail glanced toward the commotion, his ears twitching. Bluekit thought perhaps he was imagining playing with his own kits like that once he got to know them better.

  “Pinestar has asked me to share prey with him,” Stormtail told Moonflower.

  Bluekit blinked. “Now?” Is he leaving already? “Can we come with you?”

  Stormtail’s gaze flashed toward her, and she flinched when she saw the mixture of alarm and discomfort in his eyes. Doesn’t he like us?

  “Kits should stay near the nursery,” he muttered.

  Bluekit’s heart sunk as he turned to pad away, then swelled with hope when he paused and looked back over his shoulder. Has he changed his mind?

  “Stonepelt told me you woke him up yesterday,” he growled. “Stay out of the warriors’ den.” He swung his head around and walked off.

  Bluekit stared after him, hollow with disappointment.

  Moonflower smoothed her tail along Bluekit’s ruffled flank. “Stormtail was only giving you advice,” she meowed. “So you’ll know better next time.”