Bluestar's Prophecy (15 page)

“
Bluepaw, from this moment you will
be known as Bluefur. StarClan honors your bravery and your strength, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan. Serve your Clan well.”

Bluefur fought to keep her paws still as Pinestar touched her head with his muzzle and her Clanmates began to cheer.

“Bluefur! Snowfur! Bluefur! Snowfur!”

Snowfur pressed against her. “We’re warriors!” she whispered excitedly.

Happiness flamed like a shooting star inside Bluefur. She looked around the Clan at the familiar faces, proud to be part of them, warmed by the kindness shining in their eyes. Stormtail stood up beside Dappletail, and lifting his chin, he called his daughters’ names loudly to the darkening sky.

He’s telling Moonflower
. The thought stuck Bluefur’s heart like a honeyed thorn, soothing yet painful. If only Moonflower had been among her Clanmates to watch this moment.

But she
is
among her Clanmates. In StarClan.

The newleaf evening was warm, and the camp was filled with birdsong, as though even the birds were thankful for the warmth and new life that had sprung in the forest. The fresh
scent of prey and new growth swirled on the breeze.

“In the tradition of our ancestors, Snowfur and Bluefur will sit vigil until dawn and guard the camp while we sleep,” Pinestar announced.

Bluefur dipped her head. As the Clan began to melt away into their dens, she noticed with relief that Weedwhisker was beginning to fatten up. He and Leopardfoot were always first at the fresh-kill pile now that it was rich with prey again.

Leopardfoot had recently moved into the nursery while she waited to have Pinestar’s kits. It turned out that she hadn’t been eating extra prey to get fat after all. She took White-eye with her for company and to help chase away the chill that had crept into the bramble den, which had been empty for so long. The whole Clan was pleased that new kits were only a moon away.

“It just doesn’t feel right when you can get all the way to the dirtplace without tripping over a kit or two,” Larksong had commented earlier.

Even Mumblefoot was looking forward to kits. “It’s been moons since anyone attacked my tail,” he’d rasped wistfully.

As the night seeped in, the clearing emptied out until only Bluefur and Snowfur were left alone in the dark. Silently they sat, Snowfur scanning the camp—eyes and body alert, clearly taking her oath to guard her Clanmates very seriously—while Bluefur gazed up at Silverpelt, wondering which of the countless stars was Moonflower.

By the time dawn began to pale the sky, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Her body was stiff from sitting so long.
The lichen at the entrance to Pinestar’s den twitched, and the ThunderClan leader padded out. He glanced at the sky, washed pink by pale sunshine.

“Get some sleep,” he meowed softly as he passed Bluefur and Snowfur.

Relieved, Bluefur stretched.

Snowfur yawned. “Where’s he off to so early?” she wondered as Pinestar slipped out the camp tunnel.

“It’s newleaf,” Bluefur replied. “I guess even leaders enjoy a little dawn hunting once the prey starts to run.”

Out of habit, she turned her paws toward the apprentices’ den. Teeth nipped her tail gently.

“Hey, mouse-brain!” Snowfur purred. “We sleep here now.” She jerked her head toward the warriors’ den.

Of course! Would nests be waiting for them? Suddenly nervous, Bluefur followed Snowfur under the low branch at the entrance and padded into the den. She blinked to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. The low roof made the den seem small, though it was broader than the apprentices’ den. Nests circled the central trunk and spiraled out to the edge. Sunfall, Stormtail, and Adderfang were curled in moss-lined scoops at the center, while Patchpelt and Thrushpelt slept farther out.

Bluefur guessed that, as the newest warriors, their nests would be near the outer branches. But where? “Can you see any spaces?” she breathed in Snowfur’s ear.

“Over here!” Patchpelt raised his head and hissed across the den.

Carefully Bluefur picked her way around the sleeping
warriors, her heart in her throat in case she stepped on a tail or a paw or rustled bracken and woke someone.

“You can have Leopardfoot’s and White-eye’s.” Patchpelt nodded toward the two empty nests beside his.

The bracken was as flat as a Thunderpath rabbit, and the moss smelled damp and stale when Bluefur leaned down to sniff it. But she didn’t care. Right now she was so tired and cold that she’d be happy to sleep anywhere. “Sleep well, Snow
fur
.” She relished using her sister’s warrior name. They could be friends again now that they had left the apprentices’ den—and Thistlepaw—behind them. They’d hunt together, patrol the borders to check for scent marks and invaders, and never, ever be closer to another cat.

Snowfur touched her nose with her muzzle. “You too, Blue
fur
.”

Happily Bluefur circled down into Leopardfoot’s nest and, purring, drifted into sleep.

The other warriors were gone by the time Bluefur woke up. Snowfur was still sleeping, her breath stirring a tendril of grass that poked up through the bracken.

Bluefur nudged her with a paw. “Wake up!”

Snowfur sat up, her eyes bleary. “What?”

Bright sunshine filtered through the dark needles above them.

“It must be nearly sunhigh,” Bluefur observed.

“Are we supposed to be on patrol?” Snowfur wondered.

Bluefur shrugged. “No one told us.”

Snowfur started lapping at her chest. “I’m going to look my best for my first day as warrior.”

“Me too.”

Bluefur’s tongue ached by the time she’d finished washing. She sat up proudly, knowing that her fur was smooth and clean and her tail fluffed up. A scrap of moss was clinging to Snowfur’s shoulder. “You missed a bit.” Bluefur leaned forward, nipped it out with her teeth, and spat it away. “Perfect.”

Snowfur’s pelt looked as soft and white as a fawn’s belly.

Bluefur led the way out of the den. The clearing was bright with sunshine. Blue sky stretched over the camp, and a warm breeze was swishing the bright green leaves in the trees above.

“About time, too!” Sunfall’s sharp mew sounded across the clearing. He was frowning beside the nettle patch.

Dismayed, Bluefur glanced at Snowfur. “Are you sure no one mentioned a patrol?” she whispered.

Sunfall waited, tail flicking, as they padded toward him. “I don’t mind that you missed the dawn patrol,” he meowed. “But the hunting patrol had to leave without you, which means they’re short of paws and there’ll be less on the fresh-kill pile come sunset.”

“But no one told us!” Bluefur cried. Why was he lecturing her like she was still an apprentice? The fur ruffled on her spine.

“You’re warriors now,” Sunfall told her. “You shouldn’t need to be dug out of your nests to serve your Clan!”

Bluefur stared at her paws, too ashamed even to glance at Snowfur. “Sorry.”

“There’s something else you can do.”

Bluefur was relieved to hear Sunfall’s voice soften. She looked up. “What?”

“Featherwhisker wants to gather catmint from Twolegplace.”

Leaf gathering!
Bluefur’s heart sank. This was going to be as disappointing as her first day as an apprentice.

“He needs a warrior escort,” Sunfall went on.

Bluefur pricked her ears. This was more like it.

“There’s been more kittypet scent than usual around the border,” the ThunderClan deputy explained. “I don’t want him to go alone.”

So! Kittypets
could
be dangerous. Bluefur began to understand why Pinestar had been so angry at finding her near the Twoleg fence. Jake didn’t look like he could win a fight with a mouse, but it could have just been an act to catch her off guard.

Featherwhisker trotted from the fern tunnel, his eyes bright. “Are these my escorts?” He looked Bluefur and Snowfur up and down before nodding a greeting to Sunfall.

Snowfur plucked at the ground. “Yes,” she meowed. “We’ll make sure no cat hurts you.”

The medicine cat apprentice’s whiskers twitched. “Thank you.”

“Are we going now?” Bluefur joined them.

Featherwhisker glanced at the sky. “The dew should be burned off by now.”

“Is that good?” Bluefur wondered.

“It means the sprigs will be dry when we gather them, so they won’t rot in the store.” Featherwhisker was already heading for the camp entrance.

Once in the forest, Bluefur fell in beside him while Snowfur trotted at his other flank. She scanned the trees, ears pricked for any danger. She was in charge of protecting a Clanmate.

“Is it safe?” Featherwhisker asked.

Was that a hint of a purr in his mew?

“No danger here,” Snowfur reported.

“What a relief,” meowed the medicine cat apprentice.

The forest was filled with fresh scents as they headed for the border. It was hard to resist following the prey trails, but they had a duty to perform. Bluefur wasn’t going to let anything distract her. As they passed the sandy hollow, she spotted flashes of fur moving beyond the undergrowth. Sweetpaw and Rosepaw were practicing their battle moves. She wondered what Featherwhisker had felt when he had been told that he would be spending his time as an apprentice in a medicine den rather than in the sandy hollow.

“What a shame you’re not a warrior, too,” she commented to Featherwhisker.

Featherwhisker blinked. “But I wouldn’t
want
to be.”

“Why not?” Snowfur was staring at the apprentice medicine cat as if he had announced he was about to grow wings.

“I prefer to help my Clanmates by healing, not fighting.”

“But don’t you wish you could hunt sometimes?” Bluefur wondered.

“Who says I don’t?” Featherwhisker suddenly darted between the snaking roots of a birch and racked his forepaws through a drift of trapped leaves. Plunging in his muzzle, he jerked back with a mouse dangling from his jaws.

Snowfur hurried forward. “That’s amazing!”

“How did you learn to hunt?” Bluefur gasped.

Featherwhisker dropped the mouse and started digging a shallow hole in the soft earth. “I don’t spend
every
moment gathering herbs!” He dropped the mouse in the hole and scraped the earth over it. “I’ll collect it later.” Trotting away, he headed once more for the border.

As they passed through Tallpines, the scent of Twolegplace drifted through the trees, and by the time they reached the line of ThunderClan scent markers, the smell of kittypet had grown strong. Sunfall had been right. Bluefur paused to taste the air, wondering if she would recognize Jake’s scent among the jumble of others. She wrinkled her nose. Kittypets smelled worse than RiverClan, and there were far too many of them to tell which was which.

Snowfur and Featherwhisker had padded along the border without her, and she hurried to catch up to them. “Where’s the catmint?” she called.

“Outside an abandoned Twoleg nest.” Featherwhisker’s mew sounded taut.

Bluefur tensed. “Is it dangerous?”

“Not usually.”

“You sound worried.”

“I’ll be happy when I see if the catmint has survived leaf-
bare,” Featherwhisker explained. “The frosts were unusually hard.”

“What if it’s dead?” Snowfur asked.

“Then I’ll have to ask Brambleberry for supplies,” Featherwhisker told them. “There’s no other cure for greencough.”

Bluefur bristled. Even though greencough could be deadly, asking the RiverClan medicine cat for anything would be humiliating. What if RiverClan used the catmint to bargain for Sunningrocks?

A blackbird shrilled overhead. Had
they
alarmed it? She let Featherwhisker and Snowfur push ahead into a thick swath of ferns and scanned the area.

Something dark moved beyond the scent markers.

Bluefur froze.

A kittypet?

She squinted through the undergrowth and stiffened with surprise when she realized it was Pinestar. What was he doing out there on his own? She ducked low and watched curiously as the ThunderClan leader padded to a Twoleg fence. He seemed very relaxed. He must be totally confident that he could beat any kittypet who dared stray into his path.

He leaped up onto the fence and balanced there, staring toward the Twoleg nest. Was he looking for a fight? Perhaps he was hoping to send a message to the kittypets around there to keep out of ThunderClan territory. Should she offer to help?

No.

Bluefur remembered how angry Pinestar had been the last
time he’d found her there. She didn’t want him to think she made a habit of hanging around Twolegplace. Besides, she was supposed to be guarding Featherwhisker. Treading lightly so that Pinestar wouldn’t hear her, she hurried after her Clanmates.

“There you are,” Snowfur greeted her. They were crouched beneath a wall. Rocks lay scattered at the bottom, and a break gaped at the top where the stonework had crumbled.

“The catmint’s over there.” Featherwhisker stretched his forepaws up the wall.

Snowfur’s eyes opened wide. “What if kittypets come?”

“Scare them off!” Featherwhisker leaped up. “It shouldn’t be hard,” he called from the top. “They think Clan cats eat bones and grow to the size of badgers when we’re angry.” Scrabbling over the top, he disappeared down the other side.

“Quick!” Snowfur sprang after him. By the time Bluefur scrambled up, Featherwhisker was streaking around the edge of the enclosed clearing on the other side.

“Let’s keep watch from up here,” Bluefur suggested.

Snowfur nodded. “I’ll stand guard at that corner.” She beckoned with her nose to where the wall turned a few tail-lengths away. “And you watch from there. We’ll have every view covered.”

As Snowfur picked her way along the crumbling stonework, Bluefur padded to her corner and sat down. Her heart flapped in her chest. This was her first warrior mission. She was in charge of getting Featherwhisker home safely with a supply of catmint that might one day save a ThunderClan life. They
could be attacked by kittypets at any moment. Or a Twoleg might appear from anywhere. She looked down anxiously. Featherwhisker was digging through the thickly weeded undergrowth at one side of the grassy clearing.