Ottersplash scowled across the water. “Hoping for fish?” she sneered.
Oakheart didn’t look at Bluefur. “ThunderClan doesn’t like getting their paws wet,” he reminded the she-cat. “You two go back to camp and tell Crookedstar that ThunderClan is at the border,” Oakheart told his Clanmates. “I’ll stay here and see how many more of them are hanging around.”
Ottersplash and Owlfur hared away into the trees.
Oakheart stood on the shore with water lapping his paws. “It’s been a while,” he called across the dark, swirling river.
“I—I need you.”
Hope flared in Oakheart’s eyes. Bluefur winced, anticipating his disappointment with a pang. Did he really think she’d come to tell him they could meet in secret again?
He slid into the water and swam across, unswerving despite the tug of the current, gliding through the water as smoothly as an otter. He padded onto the stones and trotted to her side. “What’s the matter?”
Bluefur looked at her paws. She couldn’t just come out with it. She hadn’t seen him in a moon. How would he react? “Your brother didn’t make you deputy,” she meowed.
“No.”
“But I thought you wanted to be leader one day.”
“He offered. I refused. I haven’t earned it yet. But I will.” Oakheart glanced over his shoulder. “We don’t have long. What’s the matter?”
“Are you disappointed—about not being deputy?”
“Bluefur!” His mew grew stern. “Crookedstar is about to send a patrol.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to have kits.”
Oakheart’s eyes widened like an owl’s. Bluefur waited for him to say something while the forest whirled around her and the ground swayed beneath her paws.
“It’ll be all right.” He pressed against her, his wet fur icy on her pelt. “Our kits will be great. Brave and strong and clever—good at swimming and climbing trees!”
Bluefur flinched. He was completely missing the point. “We’re in different Clans,” she reminded him.
“That’s a problem,” Oakheart admitted. “But you can join RiverClan, or I can join ThunderClan. It’s been done before.”
“Has it?” Bluefur demanded.
“There’s a cat in your Clan—Windflight—whose father was WindClan. Didn’t you know that?”
Bluefur shook her head, shocked. No cat had ever mentioned it. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“So why does no one talk about it?” she snapped.
Oakheart shrugged.
Bluefur knew why. “Because if it’s true, they’re all too ashamed. The ThunderClan cats who let Windflight be raised in their camp, the WindClan cats who didn’t claim him as their own. They’d rather forget it. Do you want our kits to grow up like that?”
“But if I joined ThunderClan, they’d be ThunderClan kits,” Oakheart argued.
Bluefur stared. “You’d do that for me?”
“For you and for our kits, in a heartbeat.”
“But you want to become leader one day. You could never do that in ThunderClan. You’d always be an outsider.”
Oakheart lowered his gaze. “There are plenty of cats in RiverClan who want to be leader.”
“But you could do it!” Bluefur felt wretched. She couldn’t let him give up his dream. “You can’t leave your Clan.”
“Then will you leave yours and come to live with RiverClan?”
“I can’t.”
“If you’re worried about the swimming, I’ll teach you, like I promised.”
“It’s not that.” Bluefur thought of Thistleclaw with ambition burning in his eyes, and Goosefeather’s words: Blood lies in his path. Fire lies in yours. “My Clan needs me.”
Oakheart’s eyes glazed. “I need you, too.”
Bluefur slowly shook her head. “No, you don’t. I’m going to raise these kits as ThunderClan. My Clanmates will assume that a ThunderClan cat is the father.”
Oakheart drew away sharply. “Any cat in particular?”
“No!” It came as a sob. “But this is the only way it can be. Don’t you see that? To give our kits the best chance, I must raise them as if they were pure ThunderClan.”
“What about me?” Oakheart protested.
Bluefur curled her lip. “It’s my problem,” she growled, turning to leave. “I’m the one having these kits. I’ll be the one raising them without a father!”
“They can have a father if you want,” Oakheart breathed.
Bluefur felt something move in her belly. The kits were starting to fidget. Did they know what was going on? I’ll make it okay, she promised them as she headed up the bank.
“I’ll be here if you need me,” Oakheart called after her. “I love you, Bluefur. Whatever happens, they will always be my kits, too!”
CHAPTER 39
Her belly rumbling with hunger, Bluefur padded home through the forest. She couldn’t push away the image of Oakheart, and the way his eyes had glittered with sadness. The leaf-bare trees creaked and rattled above her, and on either side of the trail, the bushes were dying back from the cold. Had she really run through there as an apprentice? Chased Snowfur between the trees, caught her first prey, practiced fighting and hunting? She had never realized how easy it had been or how happy she was.
Everything was different now. Even the trees looked unfamiliar.
“Bluefur?”
Thrushpelt was calling her from the trail ahead, his sandy-gray pelt blending with the walls of frost-burnt bracken. “Are you okay?” His eyes were round with concern.
Bluefur padded on with her head down. “Just going back to camp.”
He didn’t step aside to let her pass, but gently held his tail up to block her way. “Stop,” he ordered.
She looked into his eyes and saw a tenderness that took her by surprise.
“Rosetail has just congratulated me on becoming a father,” he meowed.
Bluefur felt the world spin around her. “She couldn’t! She promised!”
“Is she right? Are you having kits?”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell her that you were the father.” Mortified, Bluefur searched for words. “She just guessed, and it was easier….” She stopped. She couldn’t give anything away.
“So you are going to have kits?” Thrushpelt pressed.
Bluefur blinked. “Yes, I am.” She waited for him to ask whose they were. Why she’d lied. But he just stood and watched her.
At last he spoke. “I’m not going to ask who the father is,” he meowed. “I’m sure there’s a reason why you’ve kept this secret.”
Bluefur plucked at a fern straying across the ground. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out differently. I—I would have been happy with you, I know. But now everything has gone wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”
Thrushpelt shifted his paws. “You can tell the Clan I’m the father, if you want. I mean, if it makes things easier.”
Bluefur stared at him. “You’d really do that?” Was she the only cat not willing to make a sacrifice for these kits?
Thrushpelt nodded. “You know how I feel about you, Bluefur. I’d do my best to make you happy, I promise. And I’ll love your kits as though they were really my own.”
“I—I can’t let you,” she began.
Shrieks ripped the air.
Thrushpelt pricked his ears. “Thistleclaw and Tigerclaw have found a trespasser by the sound of it. They may need help.” He hared away down the path, heading for the river.
Bluefur recognized that yowl. Oakheart! She pelted after Thrushpelt, puffing with the effort. She skidded out onto the shore and saw Thistleclaw pinning Oakheart to the stones by his throat. Tigerclaw stood to one side, watching, while Thrushpelt circled nervously, scanning the far bank for cats coming to Oakheart’s rescue.
“You filthy fish-eater,” the spiky warrior was growling into Oakheart’s stricken face. “What are you doing on our territory? I should rip your throat out!”
br /> “There might be more on their way,” Thrushpelt warned. “I’ll get help.” He vanished into the forest.
Terror scorched through Bluefur. “What are you doing?” She darted toward Thistleclaw, unsheathing her claws, her eyes fixed on Oakheart struggling in the warrior’s grip.
Tigerclaw stepped forward to block her. “This RiverClan filth is trespassing,” he growled. “We have to punish him.”
Staring past him, Bluefur could see blood welling at Oakheart’s throat, turning Thistleclaw’s paws red. With a shriek, she surged forward, knocking Tigerclaw off balance. Claws out, she ripped Thistleclaw off Oakheart and flung him aside.
Thistleclaw rolled over and sprang to his paws. “Have you gone mad?” he snarled. “It’s not a kit this time! It’s a RiverClan warrior. He’s invading our territory!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bluefur snapped. “What could he do on his own?”
Thistleclaw glared wildly around. “There may be others!”
“There aren’t.” Oakheart had staggered to his paws, slowly twisting his head from side to side. “I—I got swept here by a wave. I’ll leave now.”
“Not so fast.” Thistleclaw sprang in front of him, blocking his exit.
Bluefur darted between them. “Enough, Thistleclaw! You’ve taught him a lesson. I’m sure he won’t come back here again.” She met Oakheart’s gaze and saw nothing but sadness. “Let him go.” Her plea came as a whisper. She was begging for Oakheart, but the words echoed in her heart. Let him go.
Oakheart stumbled past her and slid into the river.
“Traitor!” Thistleclaw shoved Bluefur, sending her stumbling onto her haunches. His claws were still unsheathed and tufted with Oakheart’s fur. “You’re a coward and a fool! I’ve never once seen you defend our borders. What kind of warrior are you?” He stepped close, his breath coming fast, his eyes wild with blood-hunger. “Do you know that RiverClan warrior?” he hissed slowly.
Fighting back panic, Bluefur forced her pelt to lie flat. “He’s called Oakheart. I’ve seen him at Gatherings.”
Thistleclaw leaned closer until he was a whisker away from her muzzle. “I didn’t ask if you knew who he was, I asked if you knew him.” Unblinking, he added, “Better than the warrior code allows.”
Has he seen us together? Overheard something? Bluefur forced herself to meet Thistleclaw’s gaze without flinching. “Of course not,” she spat.
Thistleclaw lurched away and began to pace up and down the shore, staring across the river. “We need more patrols,” he muttered. “It’s too easy to invade. Too many invaders. Only fear will keep them out. We must mark our borders with the blood of our enemies.” Spittle bubbled at his mouth.
Bluefur backed away, shaking. He sounded insane!
The undergrowth shook as Thrushpelt burst onto the shore. Adderfang, Sparrowpelt, and Lionheart hurtled out behind him. Thank StarClan! They might be able to calm him.
But when Thistleclaw turned around, his eyes were mild and his fur flat. “Nothing to worry about,” he mewed evenly. “Just a RiverClan warrior sniffing around. We chased him off.”
“Nice job,” Adderfang praised.
“Well spotted,” Sparrowpelt added.
Thrushpelt caught Bluefur’s eye, puzzled. Bluefur shook her head. This wasn’t the time to challenge Thistleclaw.
Adderfang nodded at Tigerclaw. “I hope you’re still learning from Thistleclaw. He’s quite a warrior. Impressive paw steps to fill.”
Tigerclaw dipped his head. “I never miss a thing,” he meowed smoothly.
“Is the area clear?” Adderfang asked.
“Clear.” Thistleclaw headed into the trees. He didn’t even glance at Bluefur. It was as if nothing had passed between them at all.
Bluefur tagged behind with Thrushpelt as the patrol headed back to camp. Was Oakheart okay? Did he make it back to his Clanmates? At least Ottersplash’s patrol hadn’t come back to look for him. It would only have confirmed Thistleclaw’s paranoia.
Blood lies in his path.
Bluefur shivered. She had to warn Sunstar.
Back at camp, the ThunderClan leader listened to reports from Thistleclaw and Adderfang. He’d taken them to his den and, frustrated, Bluefur could only guess what Thistleclaw was telling him about Oakheart’s “invasion.” She waited impatiently, pacing around the clearing even though her paws were sore and tired.
“Here.” Thrushpelt dropped a sparrow at her paws. “You need to eat.”
Bluefur sighed and sat down. It was pointless to pretend she wasn’t hungry. Her belly felt empty all the time now.
Thrushpelt watched as she began to eat. “Have you thought about what I said?” he asked.
Bluefur swallowed. With Thistleclaw so suspicious of her relationship with Oakheart, she’d be mouse-brained not to take up Thrushpelt’s offer. “Do you really mean it?”
Thrushpelt nodded.
“Thank you.” As she bent down to take another bite of sparrow, the lichen at Sunstar’s den swished, and Adderfang and Thistleclaw padded out.
Bluefur glanced at Thrushpelt. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She hurried to the ThunderClan leader’s den. “It’s Bluefur,” she called through the lichen.
“Come in.”
She pushed her way in, sending light rippling across the sandy cave floor.
Sunstar sat in shadow. “We’re lucky to have loyal warriors like Thistleclaw.”
Bluefur stiffened. “I know he’s loyal, but—”
Sunstar cut her off. “He’s a warrior ThunderClan can be proud of.”
“But I was there when he was attacking Oakheart.”
“Attacking?” Sunstar eyed her quizzically. “I thought he was defending. Oakheart was the one who was trespassing. Thistleclaw was merely following the warrior code.”
“The warrior code speaks of fairness and mercy,” Bluefur began. Thistleclaw had been ruthless. “He would have murd—” Before she could finish, Sunstar interrupted.
“You shouldn’t get involved in any more border skirmishes.”
Bluefur was puzzled. Didn’t he trust her? What had Thistleclaw said about her?
Sunstar glanced at her belly. “At least not until after your kits are born.”
“You know?” Bluefur gasped.
“It’s getting obvious,” Sunstar purred. “I may not have had kits myself, but I know what an expectant queen looks like.” He padded past her, nosing through a gap in the lichen. Then he paused and looked back. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, an asset to the Clan.” A small sigh escaped him. “I had hoped that one day you’d follow in my paw steps, but StarClan seems to have a different path for you. Fortunately,” he went on, gazing out at the clearing, “there’s another who may be able to lead this Clan one day.”
Belly tightening, Bluefur followed his gaze.
He was staring at Thistleclaw.
The spiky warrior was boasting about his great victory over Oakheart to an excited knot of cats, while Tigerclaw raked the air, demonstrating his moves. Chilled to the bone, Bluefur backed away.
Thistleclaw couldn’t be allowed to take over ThunderClan. He would destroy them all!
CHAPTER 40
“Are they coming yet?” White-eye called. She tugged Runningkit back by his tail and tucked him in their nest beside his sister. Mousekit had fallen asleep, tired of waiting for her new denmates to arrive.
Sunlight filtered into the nursery, muted by the thick layer of snow weighing heavily on the bramble roof. Inside it was warm from the breath of several cats crowded together.
“It won’t be long,” Featherwhisker murmured, concentrating hard as Bluefur shuddered with another contraction. Spottedpaw leaned in close.
“Put your paw here.” Featherwhisker placed his new apprentice’s paw on Bluefur’s belly. “Can you feel her body trying to push the kits out?”
Spottedpaw nodded solemnly. When Goosefeather had moved to the elders’ den half a moon ago, Spottedpaw had begged to switch from her warrior trainin
g to learning to be a medicine cat. Featherwhisker had told Sunstar that he could think of no better apprentice. Her memory for herbs was outstanding, and even more important, the pretty young tortoiseshell’s compassion shone in every word and every look.
“Get your paws off!” Bluefur hissed, wracked by another contraction. As it faded she saw dismay in Spottedpaw’s gentle gaze. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”
“Did I hurt you?” Spottedpaw fretted.
Featherwhisker stroked his tail along the young cat’s flank. “No,” he assured her. “Queens can be a bit crabby when kitting.” He narrowed his eyes at Bluefur. “Some are crabbier than others.”
“You’d be crabby if you’d been kitting since dawn!” Bluefur snapped, pain convulsing her body once more.
Oh, Snowfur, help me!
Soft breath stirred her ear fur, and an achingly familiar scent wreathed around her.
Not much longer, my precious sister. You’re doing well.
“Here comes the first one,” Featherwhisker mewed. “Spottedpaw, when it arrives, nip the kitting sac with your teeth to release it.”
Spottedpaw wriggled into position as a small, wet bundle tumbled into the nest.
“A tom!” Featherwhisker announced.
“Is he okay?” Bluefur craned her neck to see her first kit, her paws trembling with excitement.
“Quick, Spottedpaw!” Featherwhisker instructed. “Lick him fiercely!”
Bluefur gasped. “Is he breathing?”
Her heart lurched when Featherwhisker hesitated.
“Well?”
“He is now.” Featherwhisker picked up the tiny kit and put him beside Bluefur’s belly.
He felt warm and damp against her fur. Trembling with relief, Bluefur leaned forward and sniffed her son. It was the most perfect scent in the world. “He’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Another wave of pain rippled along her flank.
Not much longer, Snowfur promised.
“A she-kit,” Featherwhisker meowed as he placed a second kit next to her belly. He pressed his paw gently on her flank. “One more I think.”