Bluestar's Prophecy

  “I have to go,” she told Oakheart.

  He stared at her, his amber gaze unwavering. “Okay.”

  She headed away with her prey, reluctant to leave. Walking away from the RiverClan tom left a hard, hollow feeling in her belly.

  He’s RiverClan, she reminded herself sharply.

  Her Clanmates were waiting, each with prey.

  “Were you talking to someone?” Lionheart asked her.

  Bluefur dropped her catch. “Just to myself,” she meowed quickly.

  Thrushpelt glanced admiringly at the moorhen. “Nice catch,” he purred.

  “Thanks.” Bluefur didn’t meet his gaze. Somehow the ThunderClan warrior’s praise didn’t spark the same thrill in her as Oakheart’s had done.

  CHAPTER 34

  “We need to take back Sunningrocks!”

  Sunstar’s announcement from Highrock was greeted with cheers from his Clanmates below the Highrock.

  “About time, too!” Adderfang called.

  “They’ve ruled those rocks for too long,” Stormtail agreed.

  Tigerclaw gouged deep scars in the ground with his long claws, his eyes fired with excitement.

  He’s more interested in the battle than in winning Sunningrocks, Bluefur guessed.

  A light drizzle had fallen steadily since she’d returned with her moorhen, and the Clan’s pelts clung, dripping, to their flanks as they listened to Sunstar.

  “Leaf-bare is coming, and we have more warriors to feed. With kits on the way, too, we’ll need as much territory as possible to hunt.”

  White-eye was watching from outside the nursery. Her mate, Sparrowpelt, lifted his muzzle. “When will we fight?”

  Sunstar shook his head. “I want to take Sunningrocks without a battle,” he meowed.

  Thistleclaw stared at the Clan leader as if he’d grown an extra head. “What?”

  “We can beat them easily,” Tigerclaw growled.

  Sparrowpelt put his head on one side. “How do we take Sunningrocks without a battle?”

  Robinwing lashed her tail. “RiverClan won’t just give it up because we ask.”

  “They might,” Sunstar suggested.

  Thistleclaw bristled. “You’re going to ask for Sunningrocks back?”

  Tigerclaw curled his lip. “Or are you going to beg?”

  Sunstar glared at the dark warrior. “ThunderClan never begs!” He unsheathed his claws.

  Tigerclaw lowered his gaze.

  “Why risk a battle we don’t need to fight?” Sunstar yowled. “ThunderClan is strong. We have some of the most skilled warriors in the forest.” He gazed around the Clan, his gaze lingering on Tigerclaw and then Whitestorm. “The other Clans know that. Do you think RiverClan will really want to fight over territory they don’t need? They use the rocks for basking in the sun, not for hunting prey. We will show them our warriors and persuade them that giving up Sunningrocks would be a wise decision for both Clans.”

  Stormtail’s eyes lit with interest. “You mean take a patrol to their camp?” he guessed.

  Sunstar nodded. “We’ll tell them that we own Sunningrocks, and that we’ll shred any RiverClan cat who dares set paw on it again.”

  Dappletail blinked. “March into their camp and tell them that? It’ll be suicide.”

  Tigerclaw growled, “Not if we send a strong enough patrol.” His amber eyes narrowed. “We go in peace but threaten war if they don’t cooperate.” He clearly approved of the plan. Bluefur pictured the broad-shouldered warrior standing in RiverClan’s camp; suddenly the nursery and the elders’ den would seem vulnerable. RiverClan would be likely to agree to anything.

  “Then we’re agreed?” Sunstar glanced around the Clan.

  Adderfang nodded. “It sounds like a good plan.”

  “When word gets out that RiverClan gave up Sunningrocks without a fight, the other Clans will fear us all the more,” Thistleclaw added.

  Bluefur’s tail flicked. She wasn’t so sure. There was something devious in the plan that pricked at her conscience. Perhaps she was just being oversensitive. Sunstar had come up with a way of avoiding a battle. That showed good leadership. But to threaten RiverClan in their camp? Elders and kits lived there. Hadn’t they learned from the attack on WindClan that camps were no place for a battle?

  She shook the thought away. Sunstar would never let innocent cats be threatened.

  She glanced at Thistleclaw.

  He might.

  “Then it’s settled,” Sunstar decided. “I’ll lead the patrol. Featherwhisker, Tawnyspots, Lionheart, Whitestorm, Thrushpelt, Adderfang, Stormtail, and Bluefur. You will come with me.”

  Thistleclaw blinked. “Not me?”

  “You stay and guard the camp with Tigerclaw,” Sunstar told him. “With so many warriors out of camp, we’ll need to leave behind a strong patrol.”

  Bluefur felt a glimmer of satisfaction. Without Thistleclaw’s menacing presence, ThunderClan’s proposition would be more likely to appear simple and fair.

  The rain stopped as the patrol set out, but the forest was drenched and Bluefur’s pelt was quickly soaked all over again. She pushed through the wet undergrowth after her Clanmates. When they emerged from the forest and skirted Sunningrocks, following the riverbank to the stepping-stones, a cold wind swirled around them. Bluefur shivered as it tugged her fur, and the thought of crossing the river made her even colder. Sunstar led the way across the stepping-stones. Bluefur stiffened when she saw one of the small flat stones wobble beneath his paws.

  Goldenflower and Lionheart followed, hopping nimbly over the stones. Bluefur stood back to let the others push past her. Then she was alone on the shore with Thrushpelt.

  “You can go first,” he offered.

  Bluefur stared at the line of stones and the dark water swirling around them. She padded forward on shaking paws. Goosefeather’s prophecy rang in her ears as she paused at the water’s edge: Even the most powerful flames can be destroyed by water.

  “Go on,” Thrushpelt urged.

  “Wait!” Bluefur’s paws felt like lumps of wood.

  “We have to stay with the patrol,” Thrushpelt warned.

  Bluefur pushed herself forward, springing onto the first stone. Water splashed and gurgled around her. The blood roared in her ears.

  Stupid Goosefeather!

  She leaped to the next stone, swaying for a heart-stopping moment before she found her balance and gathered her haunches to jump again.

  Stupid prophecy!

  And again.

  It’s probably not even true.

  The final stone wobbled as she landed, and water washed over her paws.

  Don’t let me drown!

  She flung herself to the shore, panting.

  Thrushpelt landed beside her a moment later. “That was easy,” he chirped. “I don’t know why RiverClan cats bother swimming.”

  Bluefur marched away into the reeds.

  The patrol had halted. As Bluefur caught up, she saw that RiverClan warriors were blocking their path, hackles up. From their dripping pelts, she guessed that they’d recently swum across the river. Did they really not prefer to use the stepping-stones? But even with their fur clinging to their bodies, the RiverClan warriors looked sleek and powerful.

  Bluefur recognized Crookedjaw at the front of the patrol. Now RiverClan deputy, he had changed from the friendly young apprentice she’d met at his first Gathering. He still had his upside-down mouth, but he held his head high as though he were defiant about his strange expression; there was no longer any hint of humor or apology about the way he looked. She wondered how Oakheart felt about his brother being made deputy.

  Crookedjaw unsheathed his claws. “What are you doing on RiverClan land?”

  “We want to talk with Hailstar,” Sunstar told him.

  Ottersplash leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “About what?”

  Sunstar narrowed his eyes. “You ask me to share words meant for your leader?”

  Ottersplash snarled.

  C
rookedjaw waved the warrior back with his tail. “You expect me to lead you straight into our camp?” he countered. “We haven’t forgotten what you did to WindClan.”

  “Do we look like a battle patrol?” Sunstar challenged.

  Bluefur leaned close to Whitestorm, whose pelt was pricking. “Keep your fur flat,” she whispered, “or you’ll spook them.”

  Crookedjaw ran his gaze over the soggy patrol and shook his head. “It would take more than this to overrun our camp,” he conceded.

  “We wish only to share words,” Sunstar pressed.

  Crookedjaw nodded, eyes like flints. “Follow.” He turned and headed away through the reeds.

  Bluefur didn’t like the soft, wet peat squelching beneath her paws, or the openness of the marshland as they left the cover of the riverside trees and headed deeper into RiverClan territory. The winding route took them through a maze of reed beds.

  “It’s a wonder their claws don’t turn soft,” Thrushpelt whispered in her ear.

  Suddenly Crookedjaw swerved to one side and squeezed through a woven wall of reeds.

  The camp.

  Paws tingling, Bluefur followed as her Clanmates squeezed through the camp entrance. The marshy clearing was dotted with dens. Made of sticks, they looked like herons’ nests, spiky and awkward and not nearly as appealing as a scoop filled with moss and feathers.

  “Why do they live in such uncomfortable-looking dens?” Lionheart murmured.

  “They float if it floods,” Crookedjaw snapped, overhearing him. “Wait here.” He left the ThunderClan cats and ducked into one of the tangled dens.

  RiverClan cats blinked from the edges of the clearing, staring in surprise at their visitors.

  “Lilystem! Look!” A small gray kit yelped over its shoulder, and a pale tabby slid out of the den behind him. The queen looked at the visitors in dismay until Ottersplash reassured her.

  “They say they’re here to talk to Hailstar.”

  Lilystem nodded and wrapped her tail around her kit, staying outside to watch.

  Two of RiverClan’s senior warriors, Timberfur and Owlfur, prowled around the clearing, their eyes wary and their hackles up. Crookedjaw reappeared with Hailstar following. The RiverClan leader was round-eyed, his gaze curious. He did not speak but simply stared at Sunstar, waiting for the ThunderClan leader to speak.

  Sunstar dipped his head. “Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan,” he declared. “We are taking them back.”

  Hailstar unsheathed his claws. “You’ll have to fight for them,” he growled.

  “We will if we have to,” Sunstar meowed. “But we thought we’d give you fair warning.”

  Timberfur padded forward, pelt bristling. “Are you threatening us in our own camp?” He glanced at his Clanmates. Bluefur’s belly tightened. They were surrounded by RiverClan warriors. What if they decided to fight for Sunningrocks right then and there?

  “We’re not threatening you,” Sunstar answered calmly. “We’re giving you a choice. If you keep off Sunningrocks, we’ll leave you alone. But any cat who sets paw there will be shredded.”

  Hailstar stepped forward. “Do you really think we will give up the rocks so easily?”

  “If you prefer a battle, then we’ll fight,” Sunstar meowed. “But are the rocks worth it?” He tipped his head to one side. “You have the river to fish. Your paws are too big to reach far into the cracks of Sunningrocks; your pelts are too clearly marked to stalk prey there. It is no use for hunting. So is it worth fighting for?” The ThunderClan leader made his proposition seem so reasonable, Bluefur waited for Hailstar to agree.

  But the RiverClan leader just stared, opening his mouth to scent the air. “I smell fear,” he snarled.

  “Then it comes from your own warriors,” Sunstar countered.

  “You actually expect us to give up Sunningrocks?” Hailstar hissed.

  Sunstar shook his head. “I expect you to fight for them,” he meowed. “Even though you will waste warriors and blood. You will lose, and it will be thanks to your decision.”

  Hailstar took a step toward the ThunderClan leader. “RiverClan warriors fight with claws, not words.”

  “Very well.” Sunstar nodded. “Sunningrocks are ours. We will set the new markers tomorrow. After that, any RiverClan cat found there will face a fight that he will not win.” He gazed around the camp and raised his voice. “Let all RiverClan know that the warning has been given. Any blood spilled now will be on Hailstar’s paws.” He turned and headed for the entrance.

  “Is that it?” Thrushpelt whispered.

  “I think that was plenty!” Bluefur was impressed by her leader’s strategy. He’d openly dared RiverClan to fight, yet made it look like their choice. Now all they could do was wait and see how RiverClan reacted when they set the new markers. Would ThunderClan find an ambush waiting, or would RiverClan decide it wasn’t a battle worth fighting?

  RiverClan growls followed them out of the camp.

  Then paws pounded from the entrance.

  Had RiverClan decided to fight after all? The ThunderClan patrol spun around, ready to defend themselves.

  Ottersplash faced them, with Timberfur and Owlfur behind her. “We’ll escort you to the border,” she growled.

  “Thank you.” Sunstar dipped his head.

  “We’re only making sure you go back to your own territory,” Owlfur spat.

  Bluefur’s pelt suddenly pricked. Someone was watching her. She turned to see Oakheart padding from a reed bed with a fish dangling in his jaws. He dropped it and stared at the cats. “What’s going on?”

  “ThunderClan has been making threats,” Owlfur growled.

  Oakheart’s gaze met Bluefur’s, alarmed. “Is there going to be a battle?”

  Sunstar flicked his tail. “We were trying to avoid one.”

  Owlfur stepped forward. “Go home,” he advised darkly.

  “Very well.” Sunstar nodded and headed away through the rushes.

  Oakheart tagged onto their escort and Bluefur was acutely aware of him—his scent, the sound of his paw steps—as he followed them along the twisting path to the stepping-stones. When Owlfur quickened his pace to take the lead, Oakheart fell in beside Bluefur.

  “I must talk to you,” he hissed in her ear. “Make an excuse.” He dropped back with a flick of his fox-colored tail.

  Bluefur twitched her ears. How could she get away from her patrol? Why should she? But the urgency in Oakheart’s voice nagged at her. She had to know what he wanted.

  “Ow!” She started to limp.

  Thrushpelt whipped his head around. “Are you okay?”

  “Thorn in my paw,” Bluefur complained. “I need to get it out.”

  “I’ll help,” Thrushpelt offered.

  Oakheart growled. “You keep with the others. I’ll help her.” He glared at Thrushpelt, who hesitated for a heartbeat before backing away.

  “Don’t be long,” he called to Bluefur. “Or I’ll come back for you.”

  “I’ll only be a moment,” Bluefur promised.

  As soon as her Clanmates had disappeared around the corner with their RiverClan escort, Oakheart faced her. “Thanks,” he breathed. “We need to talk.”

  “Do we?” Bluefur was mystified. She shook her head, as though shaking would clear it. There was something about this warrior’s presence that made her feel dazed and fuzzyheaded.

  “I haven’t seen you in moons!” Oakheart exclaimed.

  Bluefur tipped her head to one side. “Why should you? We live in different Clans.”

  Oakheart shifted his paws, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted out. “Ever since last leaf-bare when we talked near the river.”

  Bluefur backed away. “But that was ages ago! And you don’t even know me!”

  “I want to know you,” he insisted. “Everything about you—your favorite fresh-kill, your earliest memory, what you dream of…”

  Bluefur’s heart twisted. I don’t have time for
this! “You can’t!” she gasped. “The warrior code!”

  Oakheart impatiently shook his head. “This isn’t about the code. This is about us. Meet me tomorrow at moonhigh at Fourtrees.”

  “I can’t!” Bluefur protested.

  “Just meet me,” Oakheart begged. “Give me a chance!” His green eyes were round and pleading.

  “Bluefur?” Thrushpelt appeared around the corner with Ottersplash.

  “Are you leaving our territory or not?” growled the white-and-ginger she-cat.

  “Yes,” Bluefur croaked. She hurried to join Thrushpelt.

  He bent down and touched her ear with his muzzle. “Are you okay?”

  Bluefur stiffened. Had he heard anything?

  “Your paw?” Thrushpelt prompted. “The thorn?”

  “Oh! Oh, yes,” Bluefur mewed. “I got it out. It’s fine.”

  As she crossed the stepping-stones, she felt sure Oakheart was looking at her. Her pelt burned. He was watching. She knew it. But she didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER 35

  Give me a chance!

  Bluefur woke with a start. Oakheart’s gaze was burned in her memory.

  A chance for what?

  She didn’t need to ask. She knew. The intensity in his mew, the desperation in his eyes. Seeing his longing was like looking at a reflection of her heart. She felt the same tug. The same longing to be close.

  But how could they be together? They were from different Clans! They shouldn’t feel this way.

  Groggily Bluefur floundered out of her nest and stumbled from the den. The rain clouds had cleared, leaving behind a pale leaf-fall sky. Dawn was breaking over the camp, sending yellow light spilling across the clearing. Cold air nipped Bluefur’s nose and her paws.

  Tigerclaw pushed past her, heading for Highrock where Tawnyspots was organizing the day’s duties. “Are you coming, Bluefur?” the dark warrior called over his shoulder.

  Lionheart and Whitestorm were already waiting in the shadow of the rock. Stonepelt watched from the fallen tree, as though he still missed his life as a warrior, though it had ended many seasons ago. Dappletail and Stormtail shared fresh-kill nearby, while Sparrowpelt and Adderfang paced restlessly, their pelts fluffed against the chill. Their apprentices, Redpaw and Willowpaw, practiced battle moves at the edge of the clearing.