Bluestar's Prophecy (18 page)

I can’t think about that now
. She had to find the catmint. Sniffing, she crept along the row of herbs stacked against the wall. It was so dark she could hardly see them, but their flavors were strong on the air. Just as Featherwhisker had said, the catmint was near the back. She recognized the mouthwatering scent at once. Reaching out with her paw, she began to feel the herbs stacked around it. Her pad brushed a soft leaf. She picked it up between her teeth and felt the edges with her tongue. Jagged.
This must be it
. Snatching a mouthful, she dashed out of the shadowy den into the soft light of dusk and hurried back to the nursery.

Snowfur was already at the entrance. “He took the moss inside,” she mewed. Bluefur nosed her way through the prickly entrance and dropped the leaves at Featherwhisker’s paws. “Are these the right ones?”

He nodded. “Well done.”

Bluefur saw Leopardfoot in her nest. Her heart sank.
Leopardfoot looked tiny against the moss and bracken, her eyes wild with pain, her pelt matted and smelling of fear.

Swiftbreeze lifted Leopardfoot’s chin with a paw. “Try drinking a little.” She pushed the dripping moss ball closer and Leopardfoot licked at it, then coughed as her body heaved suddenly.

Swiftbreeze pricked her ears. “Are they coming?”

“Nearly,” Featherwhisker soothed. He chewed the leaves into a pulp and dropped them in front of Leopardfoot’s muzzle. “Eat this.” His mew was soft but firm, and Leopardfoot lapped obediently at the pulp, struggling to swallow as her body heaved again.

Bluefur reached forward and pressed her muzzle to Leopardfoot’s head. “You can do it,” she whispered. “You always were the strongest. And just think of the beautiful kits you’ll have! They’ll all be great warriors.”

Leopardfoot blinked at her dully, and Bluefur wondered if she’d even heard. She backed toward the entrance.

“Thank you,” Featherwhisker murmured. Nodding, Bluefur slipped from the den.

Outside, the entire Clan was uneasy. Stormtail, Sunfall, Adderfang, and Tawnyspots paced the clearing, their pelts pricking as though frustrated that they could not fight this battle with Leopardfoot. Larksong and Stonepelt had been joined by Mumblefoot and Weedwhisker, and they huddled beneath Highrock, eyes glowing in the shadows. White-eye pressed against Sparrowpelt while Robinwing and Thrushpelt circled them, glancing every now and then at the darkening sky.

Goosefeather appeared from the gorse tunnel and padded straight to his den. He didn’t even stop to ask how Leopardfoot was. Bluefur pressed back the urge to rake his muzzle with her claws.
He’s supposed to be the Clan medicine cat, for StarClan’s sake!

At least Pinestar had got to his paws and was padding among his Clanmates. “We must eat,” he ordered. “Starving ourselves won’t make these kits come any quicker.”

Bluefur scowled at him.
These
kits! They were
his
kits. Didn’t he care?

Sunfall nodded and took a pigeon from the fresh-kill pile. Lionpaw picked up a squirrel and carried it awkwardly to the tree stump. Thistlepaw was already eating with Snowfur beside the nettle patch.

Sweetpaw looked up and caught Bluefur’s eye. “Join us,” she called. She was sharing a mouse with Rosepaw.

Bluefur padded gratefully toward the two apprentices. She wasn’t hungry but needed the comfort of sharing food with Clanmates. As she took a bite of mouse, she glanced at the nursery.
Come and join us!
she begged her unborn Clanmates.

While the Clan shared tongues after the meal, Silverpelt began to glitter overhead. Sunfall yawned and got to his paws. “There will be duties tomorrow…whatever happens tonight.” He glanced at the nursery and padded away to his den. Nodding and sighing, the rest of the Clan cats began to melt away to their nests.

Thrushpelt padded past Bluefur. “You have to sleep, too,” he meowed.

“I will…soon,” Bluefur promised, knowing it would be impossible. How could she sleep, knowing Leopardfoot was suffering?

As Thrushpelt padded away, a tiny wail sounded from the nursery. Bluefur jumped to her paws.
A kit?

Goosefeather came hurrying from the medicine den and disappeared into the nursery. He reappeared a moment later. “The first kit has been born!” he called. “A she-cat!”

Heads poked from dens, and murmurs of joy and relief rippled around the camp. Bluefur rushed past Goosefeather and pushed her way into the nursery. “Is Leopardfoot okay?” she demanded.

Swiftbreeze was lapping Leopardfoot’s ears; she looked up, her eyes glowing with hope. Featherwhisker was busy crouched over the young queen, and Bluefur held her breath as another kit plopped out onto the moss. Featherwhisker lapped it and, grasping it by its scruff, dropped it beside its littermate at Leopardfoot’s belly.

“One more to go,” he mewed.

Leopardfoot shuddered as the last kit fell into the nest. “A tom!” Featherwhisker mewed happily. He lapped it and placed it beside the other two.

Swiftbreeze purred as Leopardfoot strained to lap at her three kits. Relief and joy flooded Bluefur, and she backed out of the nursery. The Clan had gathered around Pinestar in the clearing.

“Congratulations!” Adderfang meowed.

“Another battle fought and won,” Sunfall purred.

Goosefeather shouldered past Bluefur and disappeared back into the nursery.

Dappletail raced up to Bluefur. “Have you seen them?”

She nodded. “Two she-cats and a tom.”

“Did you hear that?” Dappletail turned at once to White-eye. “Two she-cats and a tom.”

The news whispered like wind through the Clan, and purrs rose from the clearing.

Goosefeather struggled from the nursery once again and padded across the clearing. “Don’t celebrate too soon. Those kits may not make it through the night.” Shoulders hunched, he disappeared into the shadows of the fern tunnel. His words echoed behind him, sending shivers through the Clan.

It was still dark when stabbing
pains woke Bluefur, clutching her stomach like talons. She staggered to the dirtplace, almost too wrapped in pain to notice the tiny mewling coming from within the nursery. But when she returned, she heard soft voices murmuring and soothing the cries. By the sound of it, Featherwhisker and Swiftbreeze were still with Leopardfoot.

A shadow moved at the edge of the clearing. Rosepaw was creeping out of the apprentices’ den.

“Hey!” Bluefur hissed.

Rosepaw stopped and turned, her eyes flashing in the darkness. Her fur was ruffled, and she looked as wretched as Bluefur felt. “Got to get to the dirtplace,” she croaked.

“Bad belly?” Bluefur asked.

Rosepaw nodded. “Sweetpaw, too.”

It must have been the mouse they’d shared. Bluefur crept back to her nest and settled down. Sleep came, but fitfully. Pain haunted her dreams.

“Get off!” Snowfur pushed her away. “You’ve been kicking me all night!”

“Sorry,” Bluefur groaned. “Bellyache.”

Snowfur sat up and blinked sleepily. “Should I get Goosefeather?”

Bluefur shook her head. Her belly was so cramped and sore, she found herself panting between words. “He’ll be too busy with the kits.”

Snowfur yawned and curled back down in her nest. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

Bluefur lay blinking in the darkness awhile longer, trying not to fidget. Eventually the urge to use the dirtplace again was too much for her. She crawled out of the den and padded across the clearing. Dawn drew a milky haze over the horizon as it began to push back the night sky. The air was clear and cold, refreshing although it made Bluefur shiver. She paused by the nursery, her ears pricked up. A tiny mew shrilled, then another.
Thank StarClan!
At least two of the kits had survived the night.

Feeling weak, Bluefur returned from the dirtplace, breathing hard as she padded from the tunnel. Was that Lionpaw creeping out of the camp through the gorse? It was early for an apprentice to be heading into the forest alone. She padded after him, stopping when she reached the barrier. Pinestar’s scent was fresh on the prickly branches. He must have been taking Lionpaw out.

Bluefur turned from the barrier and headed for her den. It seemed odd for Pinestar to take Lionpaw out today. Wouldn’t he want to stay in the camp and see how his kits were? Perhaps it was an urgent mission. She paused in the clearing, still queasy but struggling to understand. If the mission was
urgent, why not take an experienced warrior instead of Lionpaw? She shook her head, trying to clear it, but the movement only made it spin more. Unsteadily she crept back to her nest and gave in to the drowsiness dragging at her bones.

Aware in her sleep of the warriors moving around her, she half lifted her head. Her belly was sore, but the cramping had stopped.

“Go back to sleep,” Snowfur was whispering in her ear. “I’ll explain to Sunfall that you’re sick.”

Too tired to argue, Bluefur rested her muzzle on her paws. Then she remembered with a start. “Leopardfoot?”

“I think she’s okay,” Snowfur murmured.

Bluefur closed her eyes.

It was hot in the den when she woke. Greenleaf sunshine beat down on the dark leaves, baking the nests. Panting, Bluefur crawled outside and breathed the cooler air that wafted across the clearing. The sun shone high in the sky, and the clearing was empty apart from Weedwhisker picking through the fresh-kill pile and Poppydawn pacing outside the apprentices’ den. Bluefur’s belly felt as though she’d swallowed thistles, but her head was clearer.

She looked toward the nursery, wondering how Leopardfoot and her kits were doing. As she watched, Featherwhisker slid out. His pelt was unkempt and his eyes dull.

Bluefur hurried across the clearing. “How are they?” Her voice rasped in her throat. He looked at her, surprised.

“Are you okay?”

“Bad belly.”

He sighed. “Sweetpaw and Rosepaw, too.” He stopped to greet Poppydawn. “You wanted me to look at them?”

Poppydawn glanced apologetically at her paws. “I know you’ve been busy, but I’m worried. Sweetpaw can hardly stand.”

Featherwhisker nodded and pushed his way into the apprentices’ den.

“What about the kits?” Bluefur called after him.

“Alive.” His reply was flat. “For now, at least.”

Bluefur glanced at Poppydawn. “He doesn’t sound hopeful.”

Poppydawn was gazing anxiously after the apprentice medicine cat, clearly more worried about her own kits than Leopardfoot’s.

“I had the same bellyache,” Bluefur told her, “and I’m feeling better.”

Poppydawn jerked her head around. “Did you?”

“We shared a mouse,” Bluefur explained. “It must have been bad.”

Poppydawn shook her head. “Rosepaw’s pretty ill, but Sweetpaw…” The warrior’s voice trailed away.

“She’ll recover,” Bluefur reassured her.

“I’ve never seen her so sick.”

The ferns rustled as Featherwhisker nosed his way out of the apprentices’ den. “Herbs would be pointless until they stop being sick. Just make sure they have plenty of water to drink. Find some moss and soak it in the freshest water you can find.”

Poppydawn nodded and headed for the gorse tunnel.

“How are you?” Featherwhisker asked Bluefur.

Bluefur shrugged. “Just sore and tired.”

“Go and ask Goosefeather for herbs to soothe your belly.” Featherwhisker glanced at the nursery. His eyes glittered with worry.

“Do the kits have names?” Bluefur asked.

“The she-kits are Mistkit and Nightkit, and the tom is Tigerkit.”

“
Tiger
kit?” Leopardfoot had chosen a fierce name.

“He’s the weakest of the three,” Featherwhisker mewed bleakly. “I suppose she hopes he’s a fighter from the start.” His eyes darkened. “He’ll need to be.”

“Will Leopardfoot be okay?”

“She’s lost blood, but there’s no sign of infection,” Featherwhisker reported. “She’ll recover with rest.” He looked weary.

“Have you slept at all?” Bluefur asked.

He shook his head.

“Why don’t you rest now?” Bluefur suggested. “The camp’s quiet, and Poppydawn’s taking care of Sweetpaw and Rosepaw.”

Featherwhisker nodded. “Go and get those herbs from Goosefeather,” he reminded her. “Then I’ll have one less cat to worry about.” He padded to the shade of Highrock and lay down.

Bluefur headed along the fern tunnel. Why wasn’t Goosefeather helping more? Why did ThunderClan seem to
have the laziest, dumbest medicine cat? As she reached the end of the tunnel, she stopped. The medicine clearing was cool and green and empty.

“Goosefeather!” Bluefur guessed he was sleeping in his den.

Two eyes peered from the crack in the rock. Bluefur tensed. They were round and wild, and for a moment she thought a fox had got in.

“Goosefeather?” she ventured shakily.

The medicine cat padded out, his pelt ruffled. His eyes were still wild, but less startling in the daylight. “What is it?”

“Featherwhisker sent me for herbs for my belly. I shared a bad mouse with Sweetpaw and Rosepaw last night.”

“You as well?” He rolled his eyes.

Bluefur nodded.

“Evil omens everywhere.”

Bluefur wondered if she’d heard the medicine cat correctly. He was muttering as he turned back into his den and still muttering as he came out and shoved a pawful of shredded leaves in front of her.

“It was just a bad mouse,” she meowed, wondering why he was so upset.

He leaned toward her, his breath stinky in her face. “Just a bad mouse?” he echoed. “Another warning, that’s what it was! I should have seen it coming. I should have noticed.”

“How?” Bluefur backed away. “It didn’t taste bad.” She realized that his pelt wasn’t ruffled from sleep, but simply ungroomed. It clung to his frame as though the season were
leaf-bare and he hadn’t eaten properly for a moon. She took another pace back. “It was just a bad mouse,” she repeated.

He turned a disbelieving look on her. “How can you—you of all cats—ignore the signs?” he spat.

“Me?” What did he mean?

“You have a prophecy hanging over your head like a hawk. You’re fire, and only water can destroy you! You can’t ignore the signs.”

“B-but…I’m just a warrior.” Was she supposed to have the insight of a medicine cat? That wasn’t fair. He should be giving her answers, not taunting her with the promise of a destiny she didn’t understand. She had wondered when Goosefeather would again speak to her about the prophecy, but now he was making even less sense than before.

“
Just
a warrior?” His whiskers trembled. “Too many omens. Three cats poisoned, two only whiskers from StarClan, Leopardfoot nearly dead, her three kits hanging on to life like rabbits in a fox den.” He stared through her, seeming to forget she was there. “Why such a difficult birth for the Clan leader’s mate? The kits may not make it through another night. The tom is too weak to mew, let alone feed. I should help them, and yet how can I when the signs are clear?”

What in the name of StarClan was he talking about? Forgetting the herbs, Bluefur backed out of the den.
Only whiskers from StarClan
. She dashed to the apprentices’ den. Were Sweetpaw and Rosepaw that ill?

Pushing through the cool green ferns, she saw the two sisters curled in their nests, pelts damp.

Rosepaw raised her head. “Hello, Bluefur.”

Sweetpaw didn’t stir.

Bluefur padded to Rosepaw’s nest and licked the top of her head. “How are you?”

“I’ve felt better,” she croaked.

“Has Poppydawn brought you water yet?”

Rosepaw shook her head. “Featherwhisker said you were sick, too.”

Bluefur nodded. “I’m feeling better now and so will you.” She glanced at Sweetpaw. The tortoiseshell had begun to writhe and groan, her eyes still closed. “You
both
will,” she promised, hoping it was true.

The fern wall shivered as Poppydawn pushed through. Dripping moss dangled from her jaws. She placed a wad beside Rosepaw and another beside Sweetpaw. Rosepaw lapped gratefully, but Sweetpaw still didn’t budge.

Poppydawn licked Sweetpaw fiercely. “Come on, Sweet,” she encouraged. “Wake up and wet your tongue.”

Sweetpaw struggled to open her eyes. Sniffing at the moss, she lapped at it feebly, then gagged, unable even to keep water down.

“I’ll get Featherwhisker,” Bluefur offered.

Poppydawn shook her head. “He’s sleeping.” She stroked Sweetpaw with her tail as the young cat closed her eyes once more. “I’ll watch over these two.” She glanced at Bluefur. “You should get some fresh air,” she suggested. “Outside the ravine.”

The stench of the sick apprentices’ den was making Bluefur’s
uneasy belly churn. “Okay.” She nosed her way through the ferns, relieved to feel clean air on her face. The forest air would be even fresher. She headed out of the camp, glancing at Featherwhisker where he slept in the shadow of Highrock.

The climb up the ravine left her breathless and hot. She was thankful for the cool breeze wafting through the forest, and she wandered among the trees feeling glad to be away from the sickness and worry of camp. Birds called to one another, their song echoing through the trees. Insects buzzed above the lush undergrowth. Leaves brushed Bluefur’s pelt as she padded along familiar tracks with fallen leaves from a long-ago season soft underpaw. The shadows darkening her thoughts began to fade. StarClan would protect them.

A butterfly fluttered a few tail-lengths ahead, buffeted by the breeze. Suddenly the ferns trembled, and a bulky golden shape exploded from the green stalks.

“Got you!” Lionpaw leaped for the butterfly, paws flailing, but the insect jerked upward out of his reach. “Mouse dung.” He dropped onto all four paws and watched the butterfly disappear through the branches. His eyes were sparkling, and he clawed excitedly at the grass, muttering to himself, “I’ll get the next one!” Then he spotted Bluefur. “Hi!” he mewed cheerfully.

Where’s Pinestar?
Bluefur tasted the air: no sign of the ThunderClan leader. She narrowed her eyes. He and Lionpaw had left the camp together. “What are you doing?” Had Pinestar sent him hunting? Wouldn’t Swiftbreeze be wondering where her apprentice was?

Lionpaw stared at her, blinking. “Doing?” There was an awkwardness in his mew, as if he was suddenly on the defensive. “Nothing really. I just missed that butterfly.”

“Where’s Pinestar?” she prompted.

Lionpaw opened and closed his mouth. “Pinestar?”

“You know, Pinestar.” Bluefur tried to ease the awkwardness by joking. “Red-brown tom cat? Clan leader? You went out with him this morning.”

“Did I?” Lionpaw shifted his paws. “I mean, you saw us go?”

Bluefur didn’t want Lionpaw to think she’d been spying. “I smelled your scents while I was going to the dirtplace. It just seemed odd that you went out before the dawn patrol.”

Lionpaw’s gaze flitted around the forest, resting on anything but Bluefur. “Well, Pinestar wanted an early start. Training.”

“Oh.” Bluefur wasn’t convinced.
Training you to catch butterflies?
She resisted the question. “Did it go well?”

“Fine!” Lionpaw circled restlessly. “More than fine. Great. Pinestar’s great. He’s brilliant.”

Bluefur tipped her head on one side. “So where is he now?”

“He’s on his way back. I…he…he said I couldn’t tell any cat what he’d done.” Lionpaw shut his mouth, eyes round with dismay. “I mean, where we were.” He looked at his paws. “Sorry. Secret.” He scampered past Bluefur, and she felt his pelt pricking up as it brushed hers. She let him escape into the trees without trying to stop him.

Then a scent touched her tongue. A familiar scent. She
thought for a moment. What was it?

Catmint!
Lionpaw’s pelt smelled of catmint.

Had they been to Twolegplace? Was that the “secret”? Her paws prickled. Had they seen Jake? Surely Pinestar wasn’t encouraging the apprentices to mingle with kittypets? She dashed after Lionpaw. She had to know more. Pinestar’s despairing words echoed in her head:
The Clans will be enemies forever
. Was the ThunderClan leader so disillusioned with Clan life that he’d rather be among kittypets? How could he break the warrior code like that?