Bluestar's Prophecy (31 page)

A soft tail-tip stroked Bluefur’s cheek.

“Time to wake up.” Oakheart’s whisper stirred her ear fur.

Bluefur blinked open her eyes and stretched, the leaves of their nest rustling beneath her. It was still dark in the hollow, but above the trees the sky was turning milky with predawn light. She sat up, heart racing. She had to get home.

Oakheart was looking at her, his eyes glowing like the Moonstone. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“But we must.” She pressed her muzzle to his.

They padded to the edge of the clearing and paused, twining tails. Their time together was over.

“I’ll look out for you on the riverbank,” Oakheart promised.

Bluefur pressed against him. “I’ll look out for you, too.” Her voice came out as a whisper. She knew the river would always divide them.

“I might even climb a few trees to keep in practice,” he joked.

“Yes.” She felt weary with sadness. Why was he so cheerful? Didn’t he realize they would never be together like this
again? She gazed into his eyes and knew that he did. Behind the brightness she recognized grief, raw as her own.

“Good-bye,” she whispered, and headed up the slope. She glanced back again and again until the pain of seeing him standing beneath the oak trees was too much to bear. Then she fixed her gaze firmly ahead and bounded up to the top of the hollow. But as she crested the rise, she felt Oakheart’s gaze still scorching her pelt.

I must be as strong as fire!

The woods were full of shadows, and it took her a while to adjust to the dark as she weaved around brambles and squeezed through clumps of fern. Her heart quickened as she neared camp; a Clanmate might be roaming the forest.
Not this early
, she told herself. But she still tensed at every rustle and scent drifting on the air.

She slid down the ravine, holding her breath as her paws sent a shower of grit tumbling down below. To her relief, Adderfang was nowhere to be seen. The camp entrance was unguarded. She slunk inside and headed straight for the warriors’ den, her gaze flitting nervously around the silent clearing.

Yellow light was rolling across the sky, reaching down to pierce the shadows beneath the trees. The dawn patrol would be gathering soon. Bluefur slid into the yew bush, tense as a hunted mouse, and tiptoed to her nest. Lionheart grumbled as she brushed past his nest, but no one stirred. Curling down into her nest, Bluefur closed her eyes. She didn’t want to sleep; she wanted to remember, to relive the moments she’d spent with Oakheart. She had only spent one night with him, and
she loved him more deeply than she had thought was possible. How could she live, never talking to him again? Worse than that—how could she see him at Gatherings or on the shore and pretend that they were enemies?

But there was no choice. She was a ThunderClan warrior, loyal to the warrior code. And that meant she couldn’t be friends with a cat from another Clan. No matter how much he filled her thoughts.

“If you’re listening,” she breathed to Moonflower and Snowfur, “I promise I won’t meet him again.”

Bluefur’s head was fuzzy with tiredness when she joined her Clanmates to wait for orders about the day’s patrols. Lionheart couldn’t wait to get started. “I’ve been stuck in camp all morning,” he complained.

“
Someone
had to fix that hole in the camp wall,” Adderfang told him.

“And you did a good job, too,” Smallear added. “It’s stronger than ever.”

Thrushpelt hurried over, licking his lips. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “I was starving. Had to eat.”

Dappletail shook her head. “You’d have made Weedwhisker proud,” she teased, reminding them all of the greedy old elder.

Sunstar was pacing around them. Tawnyspots was with Featherwhisker, complaining of sickness, so the ThunderClan leader was in charge of organizing the patrols again.

“Adderfang, take Lionheart, Whitestorm, Thistleclaw, and
Tigerclaw,” Sunstar ordered. “Re-mark the new RiverClan borders. But be careful. They might be planning an ambush.” He paused, as though wondering whether to send more warriors.

“We’ll check the area thoroughly before we climb the rocks,” Adderfang assured him.

Sunstar nodded. “Good. Goldenflower, you can take Patchpelt, Thrushpelt, and Bluefur to check the Twoleg border.”

The pale ginger she-cat dipped her head, then turned to the members of her patrol. “Come on,” she called. “Let’s go scare a few kittypets!” Her tone was light and amused, to Bluefur’s relief. Bluefur hadn’t forgotten Thistleclaw’s treatment of the little black kit—and right now, she didn’t think she could scare a mouse.

“We’ll split into pairs,” Goldenflower told them as they reached Tallpines. “I’ll check near the treecutplace with Patchpelt. You two, check the Twoleg border.” She nodded to Bluefur and Thrushpelt.

Bluefur hardly heard her. In her mind, she was sitting in the Great Oak beneath the stars, with Oakheart beside her.

“Are you coming?” Thrushpelt’s mew was muffled by the bramble he was holding back in his jaws. He used his tail to beckon Bluefur through the gap he had made.

“Thanks,” she murmured, padding past him.

“It’s a shame we’re not hunting today. I’d love to pick up some tips from you.” Thrushpelt hurried after her. “You have a great nose.” He hesitated. “I mean, you can detect the slightest scent.”

“Oh…er…thanks,” Bluefur stammered. Thrushpelt was always saying things like this. Why did his enthusiasm feel so clumsy and annoying all of a sudden?

He stopped to re-scent a marker as they reached the border. Bluefur turned away. She stared at the Twoleg fence rising ahead of them. This was where she’d seen Pinestar with Jake.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Thrushpelt sighed. “I wonder if we’ll see Pinestar?”

Bluefur flicked her tail. “I expect he’s got a new name by now.”

Thrushpelt turned to her with his eyes stretched wide. “How can a Clan cat become a kittypet? I’d rather be RiverClan first—and that would be bad enough.”

Bluefur looked at the fence and said nothing.
If I were RiverClan, everything would be so much easier
.

By the time they reached camp again, Bluefur was too tired to feel anything. She headed for her nest, pushing her way into the yew den. Tawnyspots was curled in his own nest, fast asleep, huddled tight as though he was bone-cold. But it was warm in the den. The leaf-bare sunshine had been pooling in the camp all morning, warming the air.

As Bluefur padded past him, her pelt pricked. A sharp, sour scent was drifting from him: the stench of illness, so strong that it turned her paws cold. She suddenly noticed how his bones jutted through his scrawny pelt. Tawnyspots was really sick. ThunderClan might need a new deputy any moment.

Bluefur hurried out of the den. Was Tawnyspots going to
die?
I’ll ask Goosefeather. Please let him make sense this time!
She had to know. It was too soon. How could she possibly become deputy when she hadn’t even finished training her first apprentice? When she reached the clearing, the old medicine cat was already surrounded by Clanmates.

Dappletail was shaking her head. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in days, with his coming and going in the night.”

Smallear agreed. “The only exercise he does is padding back and forth to the dirtplace.”

“Will he recover this time?” Whitestorm asked.

Bluefur pushed in beside the white warrior. “Are you talking about Tawnyspots?” she whispered.

Whitestorm nodded.

“He does seem even sicker than usual,” Lionheart put in.

Goosefeather’s gaze was heavy with worry. “We’ve tried everything, but nothing helps.”

Bluefur flicked her tail. What was Goosefeather trying to tell them? “He recovered last time,” she pointed out.

“He wasn’t this sick last time,” Goosefeather countered. “Sunstar will have to start thinking about appointing a new deputy before long.” He stared at Bluefur, his gaze suddenly sharp and excited as a kit’s.

Bluefur stiffened. Was this her chance?

A voice behind her murmured, “Oh, yes, it’s time for me to take Tawnyspots’s place.”

Bluefur spun around. Thistleclaw stood behind her, where Goosefeather could see him, too. The spiky tom’s eyes were
glowing, his tail high, his well-muscled shoulders sleek in the sunshine.

Sunstar wants a cat with youth and energy to serve beside him
. Bluefur remembered Goosefeather’s words with a shiver.

Right now, Thistleclaw seemed to be the strongest, most promising cat in the Clan. Would Sunstar choose him to be the next deputy instead?

The yew branches rustled as Bluefur’s
Clanmates filed into the den, bringing with them the tang of a cold leaf-bare wind. They had just returned from the Gathering.

Bluefur lifted her head. “How was it?” She yawned, wanting only to go back to sleep. She had been so tired lately, drowsiness weighting her paws through the day, her sleep heavy at night. She’d felt unusually clumsy in the training hollow, too, and was relieved that Frostfur had been made a warrior, along with her sister, Brindleface. With no more training sessions to attend, she’d had a chance to let her battle practice slide.

Rosetail kneaded her nest and stepped into it. “I’ll tell you in the morning,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

Leopardfoot was more talkative, clearly still buzzing from the Gathering as she plumped up the bracken in the nest on Bluefur’s other side. “Hailstar lost his ninth life,” she announced. “He was bitten by a rat.”

Bluefur sat up. “He’s dead?”

“Yes. Crookedstar’s the leader of RiverClan now.”

“Who is the new deputy?” Bluefur pricked her ears. She knew Oakheart had set his heart on it.

“Timberfur.”

Timberfur? But Oakheart is Crookedstar’s brother.
How could he overlook him like that? Bluefur kept the thought to herself. She hadn’t seen Oakheart in the last moon—not since they’d met at Fourtrees. She’d avoided the Gathering by telling Sunstar that she’d wrenched her shoulder jumping down the ravine. She couldn’t bear to see the tree where they’d sat, or the remnants of the nest they’d made together. And to see Oakheart himself and not be able to share more than polite words would have been agony.

“And there was a fight,” Leopardfoot breathed.

“At the Gathering?” Bluefur was shocked.

“A new ShadowClan apprentice called Brokenpaw went for two RiverClan apprentices. Oakheart had to break it up.”

He was there!
Pain pierced her heart like a thorn. He would have been looking for her. She hoped he understood why she hadn’t gone.

“Tigerclaw wanted to join in,” Leopardfoot added. “Thistleclaw practically had to sit on him to stop him. Cedarstar was so embarrassed. He assigned Brokenpaw to clean the elders’ den for the next moon. You should have seen Raggedpelt’s face when he did that. He was furious. He acted like he was proud that Brokenpaw nearly shredded two apprentices.” Leopardfoot shook her head. “ShadowClan is turning into a bunch of fox-hearts.”

Bluefur settled back into her nest, picturing Oakheart as her eyes grew heavy with sleep.

Leopardfoot chatted on. WindClan had lost their
plumpness already. RiverClan had acted like they’d never had Sunningrocks in the first place….

Bluefur dozed.

“I’m not surprised you didn’t come tonight.” Leopardfoot’s comment jolted her awake.

“Why?”

“Have you told Sunstar yet?”

Told him what?
Bluefur’s heart began to race. Did Leopardfoot know something? Had someone at the Gathering given their secret away?

“Told him what?” she asked shakily.

Leopardfoot blinked at her. “That you’re expecting kits.”

Expecting kits?

I can’t be!
Bluefur stared at her denmate in horror.
How does she know?

“Don’t worry about being nervous.” Leopardfoot brushed her tail along Bluefur’s flank. “It’s natural the first time.”

Rosetail was awake now. “Bluefur! You’re having kits? Why didn’t you tell me? Does Thrushpelt know yet?”

“Keep your voice down!” Bluefur hissed.

Rosetail ducked closer. “Sorry,” she whispered. “But I’m so pleased. I knew there was something going on between you and Thrushpelt. He’ll make a brilliant father.”

Leopardfoot’s ears twitched. “I didn’t know there was anything going on between you and Thrushpelt.”

There isn’t!
Bluefur bit back the words. They’d only want to know who the real father was. “Don’t say anything to him,” she pleaded.

“You want to tell him yourself, of course,” Leopardfoot purred. “I understand. But you’re going to have to say something soon. You’re getting awfully big. Even the toms will be noticing soon.”

As Leopardfoot and Rosetail settled down to sleep beside her, Bluefur gazed into the darkness at the edge of the den.
I’m sorry
, she murmured under her breath.
Snowfur, Moonflower, forgive me. I never meant for this to happen.

When morning came she heaved herself from her nest, suddenly aware of the extra weight in her belly. How had she not noticed? Outside, the warriors were gathering around Adderfang, who was assigning duties for the day. Tawnyspots slept in the medicine den now, and had pretty much given up his role as deputy.

Bluefur stumbled past her Clanmates and headed for Sunstar’s den. Pausing outside, she called through the lichen. “Can I speak with you?”

“Is that Bluefur?” Sunstar’s voice echoed from inside. “Come in.”

Bluefur nosed through the lichen, fighting queasiness.

Sunstar was sitting beside his nest, washing his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not feeling well,” Bluefur told him. “May I be excused from patrols?”

Sunstar tilted his head to one side. “Is it something you’ve eaten?”

“Maybe.”

“Of course you’re excused, but you must see Featherwhisker
if you don’t feel better by sunhigh.”

“I just need some fresh air,” Bluefur assured him, backing out of the den. She headed for the camp entrance, seeking the solitude and peace of the forest.

Thrushpelt broke away from the knot of warriors and caught up to her as she neared the gorse tunnel. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Bluefur didn’t even look at him, but kept walking. Her ears burned. She couldn’t believe she’d let Leopardfoot and Rosetail believe that he was the father.

Thrushpelt fell back and left her alone to squeeze through the tunnel. It pricked her sides, raking her fur into stripes. Her belly
had
swollen. Bluefur felt heavy and tired as she hauled herself up the side of the ravine. She was breathless by the time she reached the top. She sat and looked down at her round belly. Were there really kits growing inside her? A rush of protectiveness surged through her, and she leaned down awkwardly to lick the soft fur.

The sound of the first patrol leaving the camp made her stand up and trot into the cover of the ferns. She kept going until the noise faded behind her. When she looked up, the trees ahead were thinning, outlined against the sky. Her paws had led her to the river. She was honest enough with herself to know that she wanted the reassurance of Oakheart. She wanted to share her news. But would he still be looking out for her?

She padded down the smooth stone slope and sat at the water’s edge. The far bank had been stripped by leaf-bare
frosts, and she could see far into the trees. What would happen now? How would she explain these kits?
Water will destroy you
. Was this what the prophecy meant? Having kits that were half-RiverClan?

Clouds covered the sky, yellow and heavy with the threat of snow. Bluefur shivered and scanned the far bank once more. She couldn’t wait any longer. She was hungry and cold. As she turned, disappointed, to head up the bank, a flash of movement on the other side of the river caught her eye. She leaned forward hopefully, her heart quickening when she recognized the sleek, tawny pelt of Oakheart.

But there were other cats with him. He was on a patrol, flanked by Owlfur and Ottersplash. Bluefur backed away as the RiverClan patrol padded to the river’s edge, but it was too late. The cats had spotted her.

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!”