Bluestar's Prophecy

  “We’ll be their denmates soon,” Snowkit mewed excitedly.

  Moonflower’s ears twitched. “Not for six moons, you won’t! And only if you’ve learned not to eat poppy seeds by then!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Deep in a dream, Bluekit pounced at a butterfly, swiping it from the air. As she pinned it to the ground, its wings tickled her nose. Curious to see it fly away, she let it flutter into the air. It jerked away skyward, beyond her reach, but something was still tickling her nose.

  She sneezed and woke up.

  A short fluffy tail had strayed from Poppydawn’s overfilled nest and was twitching against Bluekit’s muzzle. She pawed it away grumpily. Snowkit’s weight was pressed against her spine, making her feel hot and squashed. Bluekit and Snowkit weren’t the smallest cats in the nursery anymore. Four moons ago, Poppydawn had had her kits: two she-cats and a tom, called Sweetkit, Rosekit, and Thistlekit. Bluekit had suggested Thistlekit’s name because he had spiky gray-and-white fur that stuck up all over the place. Luckily it was much softer than a real thistle. Snowkit had named Rosekit after the pinky-orange color of her tail. And Sweetkit, who was white with tortoiseshell patches, was named after Pinestar’s mother, Sweetbriar.

  At first it had been fun having more kits to play with, but now Bluekit felt as if she hardly had room to stretch. Even with Moonflower sleeping in the warriors’ den most nights, the nursery felt very crowded. Thistlekit, Sweetkit, and Rosekit were growing fast and forever spilling out of Poppydawn’s nest. To add to the clutter, Speckletail had kitted two moons ago, and Lionkit and Goldenkit hardly ever stopped wriggling and mewling.

  They were quiet now but, as Bluekit closed her eyes again, Poppydawn grunted in her sleep and, disentangling herself from Rosekit and Sweetkit, rolled over with a sigh. Thistlekit rolled after her, rested his chin on his mother’s flank, and began to snore loudly.

  What’s the point of trying to sleep anymore?

  Bluekit got to her paws and stretched, a shiver running through her long, sleek tail. With leaf-fall had come chilly mornings, and though the nursery was snug, thin streams of cold air trickled through the bramble walls. She glanced at Speckletail’s nest, envying Lionkit’s thick fur; it ruffled around his neck like a mane. Goldenkit, whose sleek, pale ginger fur made her look much smaller than her brother, stirred beside him and pressed closer to her mother.

  Trying not to wake anyone, Bluekit squeezed out of the nursery. She secretly enjoyed having the early morning to herself, when the camp was quiet. The predawn sky stretched overhead, soft and gray as a dove’s wing. She recognized the scents of Sparrowpelt, Windflight, and Adderfang, still fresh in the air. They must have just left on dawn patrol. Crisp brown leaves circled down from the trees and landed gently in the cold clearing. She pressed her paws to the ground, squashing the urge to leap up and snatch one as it fell. That was what kits did; she was nearly an apprentice.

  Bluekit breathed deeply, opening her mouth to let the scent of the woods wash against the roof of her mouth. The forest smelled musty, rich with decay, giving up its fragrance like fresh-killed prey. Her mouth watered. She longed to be among the trees beyond the gorse barrier. Padding toward it, she sniffed at the tantalizing smells that drifted through the entrance. She stretched her muzzle forward, trying to peer through the tunnel and wondering what lay in the shadows beyond.

  “Do you want to go out?”

  Sunfall’s voice made her jump, and she spun around guiltily.

  “I was just looking,” she mewed.

  “I’ll take you, if you’d like,” the ThunderClan deputy offered.

  Bluekit blinked. “What about Pinestar? Won’t he be angry?”

  “Not if you’re with me.”

  “Should I get Snowkit?” Bluekit meowed. “I bet she’d want to come, too.”

  “Let Snowkit sleep,” Sunfall told her gently as he padded away through the tunnel.

  Breathless with excitement, Bluekit followed, feeling her tail brush the gorse and the ground beneath her paws, smooth from so many paw steps.

  As she emerged on the other side of the barrier, the scents of the forest flooded her nose and mouth. Leaves, earth, moss, prey—flavors so rich she could taste them on her tongue. A wind stirred her whiskers; untainted by the familiar scents of camp, it smelled strange and wild. All around Bluekit, rich leaf-fall hues dappled the forest like a tortoiseshell pelt. Bushes crowded the forest floor, shadowlike in the early light.

  Sunfall led her along a well-trodden path toward the foot of a slope so steep that Bluekit had to crane her neck to see the top. “We are in the very heart of ThunderClan territory.” He glanced upward. “But up there, at the top of the ravine, the forest stretches to our borders on every side.”

  Bluekit blinked. “You climb up there?” She searched the slope, trying to work out which route her Clanmates used to find their way among the rocks and bushes that jutted out above them.

  “This is the easiest path.” Sunfall padded to a gap between two massive boulders where stone and earth had crumbled into a slope. He bounded nimbly up it and leaped onto one of the boulders. Looking down at Bluekit, he meowed, “You try.”

  Bluekit padded tentatively to the bottom of the rock fall. It was easy to scrabble up the first few tail-lengths, but the slope suddenly steepened and her paws started to slip on the loose stones. Heart racing, she made a desperate leap toward the boulder where Sunfall waited, only just managing to claw her way up beside him.

  Feeling less than dignified, she shook out her fur.

  “It gets easier with practice.” Sunfall turned and led her along a muddy gully that weaved along the slope. It stopped at the bottom of another huge boulder.

  Bluekit stared in horror. Does he expect me to climb that?

  Sunfall was gazing up at the smooth rock surface, his eyes narrowed. “Can you see the dents and holds where you might get a grip?”

  As Bluekit scanned the rock, she started to notice chips and cracks in the stone: a dip in one side that would give her something to push against, a chink just above it where she might get a clawhold, a useful chip in the rock beyond that. Would these small cracks be enough to let her scramble to the top?

  She waited for Sunfall to lead the way, but he motioned her upward with his muzzle. “You go first,” he meowed. “I’ll be right behind in case you slip.”

  Bluekit unsheathed her claws. I won’t slip.

  Crouching back on her haunches, she tensed to jump, her eyes fixed on the first tiny ledge where she might get a grip. Trembling with effort, she leaped and hooked a claw onto the chink, propelling herself upward and pushing against the dip in the rock with her hind paws. She was amazed to find herself already at the next crack, grabbing hold, pushing upward again until, by some miracle, she found herself panting at the top.

  Peering down the sheer rock, she saw Sunfall; he seemed small on the forest floor below. Had she really jumped so far with just a couple of paw holds? She was level with the treetops surrounding the camp. She could see right into the high branches where squirrels had scampered and teased her all throughout greenleaf.

  “Great climb!” Sunfall landed silently on the rock beside her. “Which way now, do you think?”

  Bluekit glanced behind her. Bushes and stunted trees jutted out, their roots twining through the rocky soil to hold them fast to the sheer slope. She spotted a steep but well-worn path, which weaved around the trunk of a twisted hazel.

  “That way!” she mewed. Without waiting for a reply, she hurried along the track, following it as it steepened, turned back on itself, and began to snake between the boulders studding the crest of the ravine. She was nearly at the top! The forest was only a few tail-lengths away.

  Suddenly her paws slipped.

  Panic shot through her like lightning as the earth beneath her claws crumbled and she fell backward, sliding and skidding on her belly down the path. Scrabbling for a grip, she let out a wail.

  Something soft broke her fall.

  “I’
ve got you!” Sunfall wriggled from underneath her and grasped her scruff to steady her. Bluekit’s heart thumped as she swung over the steep drop below. She felt for the ground, her legs shaking, and Sunfall let go as she regained her balance.

  “Sorry,” she mewed. “I shouldn’t have gone so fast.”

  Sunfall flicked her ear gently with his tail. “When you’re bigger, and there’s more strength in your hind legs, you can go this way. For now, let’s use that path instead.”

  Bluekit followed his gaze to a stony trail twining upward through a cluster of smaller rocks. She followed him along it, letting her paw steps fall in behind his. A tail-length from the top, the path ended in a sheer wall of rock that leaned out above them. Bluekit could smell the heavy scent of forest and see branch tips poking out high above the lip of the ravine.

  With one leap, Sunfall bounded up and over the edge. Bluekit took a deep breath and jumped up, reaching with her forepaws to grasp the grassy cliff top, and began to haul herself over the edge. She caught sight of Sunfall leaning forward, his teeth heading for her scruff.

  “I can do it!” she puffed before he could grasp her. Her muscles burned with the effort as she dragged herself over the edge and flopped on the soft grass, panting.

  “Well done,” Sunfall congratulated her.

  Catching her breath, Bluekit glanced down the ravine. The camp was hardly visible beneath the treetops, and the clearing appeared as a pale splash beyond the auburn leaves. She twisted her head to look into the forest. Bushes crowded the edges, and trees stretched away into shadows. Branches creaked and shuddered in the wind. An excited shiver ran down her pelt.

  “Is that where the patrols hunt every day?” she whispered.

  Sunfall nodded. “You’ll be going with them soon.”

  I want to go with them now!

  Sunfall tensed suddenly. He was staring into the trees, eyes round. A moment later, they heard the echo of paw steps pounding eerily from deep within the forest. They drew closer, setting the undergrowth rustling, until Bluekit could make out the shadowy shapes of cats hurtling toward them.

  She edged nearer Sunfall. “Who is it?”

  “Dawn patrol.” Sunfall’s mew was taut. “There’s something wrong.”

  Sparrowpelt exploded from a wall of ferns, his yellow eyes burning through the predawn light. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the ravine. Adderfang, Windflight, and Thrushpelt stopped hard on his heels.

  “What’s wrong?” Sunfall demanded.

  “WindClan has been stealing our prey!” Sparrowpelt hissed. “We must tell Pinestar.” He plunged over the edge of the ravine with the rest of his patrol close behind.

  “Let’s get back to camp.” Sunfall turned and disappeared over the edge after his Clanmates.

  Bluekit was trembling. Did this mean battle?

  As she slid her front paws over the rim of the cliff, she paused. The sun was cracking the distant horizon, spilling over the forest and turning the treetops pink. Pride and excitement welled unexpectedly in her belly. This was her territory, and her Clan was in trouble. She knew with a certainty as hard as rock that she would risk anything to help her Clanmates. She half slid, half fell down the steep tumble of rocks, scrabbled down the face of the giant boulder, and raced along the path to the rocky slope at the bottom. She was determined not to be left behind.

  The other warriors had disappeared into the camp by the time she reached the bottom, and she pelted through the gorse tunnel, praying she hadn’t missed anything.

  In the clearing, Sparrowpelt was already sharing his story with Pinestar. The rest of the Clan cats, pelts bristling, were gathering around them. Stonepelt and Stormtail padded, gray as shadows, from beside the nettle patch. Branches trembled around the fallen tree as Weedwhisker pushed his way out from the elders’ den with Larksong and Mumblefoot. Robinwing paced in front of the nursery, her ears pricked up straight.

  Dappletail—a warrior for only one moon, but already acting like she was deputy—pushed past Patchpaw, who was padding blearily from the apprentices’ den.

  “Get out of the way! This is important!” she snapped. “Come on, White-eye!”

  Whitepaw had been given her warrior name at the same time as Dapplepaw. Bluekit thought it was cruel of Pinestar to name her after the blind, cloudy eye that marred her pretty face, but White-eye had never seemed bothered by it, and she followed her denmate now with her usual unruffled air, shrugging apologetically as she passed Patchpaw.

  “Bluekit!” Moonflower called from the fern tunnel. She emerged from the shadows, her eyes round with worry. “I’ve been looking for you! Have you been outside?” Her mew was sharp. “You know you’re not supposed to leave the camp!”

  Bluekit wanted to explain that Sunfall had taken her, but Goosefeather and Featherwhisker weaved past the silver-gray queen, blocking her view as they hurried from the medicine clearing.

  Tail twitching, Swiftbreeze swept in front of Bluekit. “Are you coming?”

  Bluekit nodded and followed. She’d talk to Moonflower later.

  Pinestar’s eyes narrowed as he spoke with the warriors from the patrol. “You say there was blood inside our border?”

  Sparrowpelt nodded. “Squirrel blood. And it was fresh.”

  Bluekit sat down beside Swiftbreeze. “Will there be a battle?” she whispered.

  Swiftbreeze twitched the tip of her tail. “I hope not.”

  Snowkit skidded to a halt beside them, her fur fluffed with excitement. “Imagine if there was!”

  Adderfang was pacing in front of the ThunderClan leader. “WindClan cats must have killed it this morning and carried it back through Fourtrees to their own territory,” he growled.

  “Are you sure it was killed by WindClan?” Swiftbreeze called.

  “WindClan scent was everywhere!” Thrushpelt reported. The young warrior looked terrified, his fur sticking on end. “We were choking on it.”

  Windflight tipped his head to one side. “There was no scent on the bushes,” he meowed slowly. “It may have just drifted down from the moorland.”

  “Drifted?” Sparrowpelt scoffed.

  “Too much of a coincidence!” Adderfang snapped. “Squirrel blood and Clan-scent together? They crossed our border and killed ThunderClan prey!”

  “Could anything else have killed the squirrel?” Pinestar queried. “Was there any sign of a fox?”

  “Nothing fresh,” Adderfang meowed.

  Pinestar blinked. “But there was fox scent?”

  Sparrowpelt flexed his claws. “There’s fox scent everywhere if you sniff for it!”

  Mumblefoot padded stiffly forward. “WindClan has done this before,” he reminded them.

  Stonepelt nodded. “Leaf-fall always makes them nervous. The rabbits start to go to ground when the forest is still prey-rich. This won’t be the first time hunger has driven WindClan past Fourtrees and over our border.”

  “And it won’t be the last,” Sparrowpelt added darkly.

  Swiftbreeze swished her tail through the air. “They can’t be hungry. Leaf-fall’s not yet ended.”

  “Why didn’t they steal from RiverClan or ShadowClan?” Bluekit ventured. “They share borders with them.”

  Adderfang swung his yellow gaze toward her. “They probably think having Fourtrees between the moor and our territory makes them safe from anything we might do in revenge.”

  “Or they think we’re easy to steal from!” Stormtail, who had been watching through half-closed eyes from the edge of the clearing, stepped forward. “If they’re willing to steal prey before leaf-fall has ended, how much will they steal in the darkest days of leaf-bare? We must warn them off now, before they think they have the right to help themselves to our prey whenever they like.”

  Bluekit tingled with pride. Her father was a true warrior, ready to fight to defend his Clan.

  Pinestar shook his head slowly, then turned and bounded up onto Highrock. “There will be no fighting yet,” he ordered.

  Stormtail flatt
ened his ears. “You’re going to let them steal from us?” he growled.

  “There isn’t enough proof that it was WindClan,” Pinestar answered.

  Adderfang let out a low hiss.

  “No one saw a WindClan cat, and no scent markers were left behind,” Pinestar pointed out.

  “Only because they’re cowards!” Sparrowpelt yowled. Murmurs of agreement rippled around the Clan.

  Pinestar turned to Goosefeather. “Has StarClan given any warning?”

  Goosefeather shook his head. “Nothing,” he reported.

  “Then cowards or not,” Pinestar growled, “I won’t risk a battle on so little evidence. But I’ll warn all the Clans at the Gathering tomorrow that we are being extra vigilant.” He stared down at Sunfall. “Organize extra patrols along the Fourtrees border. If you see a WindClan patrol, warn them off.” He narrowed his eyes. “With words, not claws.”

  Sunfall nodded. “We’ll re-scent the markers, too.”

  Bluekit saw the fur ripple along her father’s spine as he padded over to sit with Adderfang. The two warriors bent their heads in quiet conversation while Sparrowpelt circled them, his tail bristling.

  “Will they go and fight WindClan anyway?” she whispered to Moonflower.

  The silver-gray she-cat shook her head. “No.”

  Snowkit plucked at the ground beside them. “I would.”

  Bluekit wrinkled her nose. “We don’t know if WindClan stole our prey.”

  “But they might have!” Snowkit insisted. “It’s better to be safe than sorry! I’d go and rip them to shreds so they’d never dare steal from us again.”

  Moonflower looked at her. “Even if your leader told you not to? A Clan leader’s word is law, remember.”

  Bluekit put her head on one side, puzzled. “Shouldn’t a warrior put the Clan above everything? What if Pinestar’s wrong?”

  Moonflower smoothed Snowkit’s ruffled fur with her tail. “Pinestar will always do whatever is best for ThunderClan. Don’t forget that he is guided by StarClan.”

  “I suppose.” Snowkit looked disappointed.

  Bluekit stared at the ground, her mind buzzing. How could leaders always be right? Would they still be right if StarClan didn’t guide them?