Bluestar's Prophecy (33 page)

Oakheart!

She spotted his tawny pelt swimming through the crowd. Shouldering her way through a cluster of ShadowClan warriors, she headed for him, keeping her gaze fixed on his pelt in case she lost sight of him.

“Oakheart,” she hissed as soon as he was close enough to hear.

He spun around, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.

“We need to talk.”

He nodded and darted away, beckoning Bluefur with his tail. She followed as he weaved out of the crowd and slid behind one of the great oaks.

“I heard about the kits,” he whispered. “How are they? What do they look like?” His eyes were glowing with pride and, for a moment, Bluefur forgot what she had come to tell him. If only he could see their kits, curled like sleepy dormice in the nursery.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed. “I named them Stonekit, Mistykit, and Mosskit.”

Oakheart sighed and sat down. “I wish I could see them.”

“You can.” Bluefur stiffened. “I can’t keep them.”

“What?” Oakheart stared at her in disbelief.

“My Clan needs me more.”

“I—I don’t understand.” His mouth hung open.

He thinks I’m heartless
. Bluefur shut her eyes for a moment, looking for the fire that burned inside her. Then she looked at the cat that had once been her mate. “Our kits are lucky,” she meowed. “They have both you and me to protect them. ThunderClan has only me.”

“What are you asking me?” Oakheart growled.

“You have to take them. I’ll bring them to Sunningrocks tomorrow night.”

Oakheart narrowed his eyes. “If I take them, they’ll be raised as RiverClan warriors,” he warned. “For their own sakes, they will never know that you were their mother.”

“I understand,” Bluefur whispered. Would her kits forget her so easily? How could she let them grow up without her? She had to—or they would drown in blood with their Clanmates when Thistleclaw came to power. She blinked and turned to walk away. She had to trust in StarClan. And in Oakheart.

His paw tugged her pelt.

“Bluefur?”

“What?” She turned on him, eyes fiery as she fought to stay strong.

“This isn’t like you,” he murmured. “I can see how much you love our kits. You are a good mother.”

Her voice cracked. “I can’t be what I want to be. I need to be strong as fire. I need to save my Clan.” Grief clouded her gaze, and Oakheart swam in front of her. “It is for the best,” she whispered. “I hope they know that they have been loved. Even if they don’t remember me, I hope they’ll know that.”

Oakheart touched his muzzle to her cheek. “They will know,” he promised. “And…thank you.” The warmth of his breath brought memories surging back until Bluefur couldn’t bear it any longer, and she wrenched herself away. She padded back into the throng of cats, knowing that each paw step took her farther from her kits.

Please, StarClan. Let this truly be the path you wish me to follow
.

“Wake up.” Bluefur kept her voice
low so she didn’t disturb White-eye, Mousekit, or Runningkit. “Come on, Mosskit. Open your eyes.” She gently shook her kits one by one and watched as they stretched, trembling, and opened their sleepy eyes.

Stonekit yawned. “Is it dawn?”

“Not yet,” Bluefur murmured. “So we have to be quiet. We don’t want to wake anyone up.”

“What’s the matter?” Mistykit squeaked.

“Hush.” Bluefur looked anxiously at White-eye’s nest. Runningkit was fidgeting in his sleep. She wrapped her tail around her own kits, quieting them until Runningkit lay still, then whispered, “We’re going to play a game, but you have to be very, very quiet.”

Stonekit was wide awake now, blinking in the darkness. “What game?”

“It’s called Secret Escape.” Bluefur made her eyes bright, forcing herself to look excited. She felt as if she were in a dream, and nothing she said or did was really happening.

Mistykit jumped to her paws. “How do we play?”

“It’s an adventure,” Bluefur explained. “We pretend that
ShadowClan has invaded the camp. We have to escape without being seen, and meet our Clanmates at Sunningrocks.”

Mosskit stared at her with round, anxious eyes. “We’re leaving the camp?”

Stonekit nudged her. “How else would we get to Sunningrocks, mouse-brain?”

“But we’ve never been out of the camp before,” Mosskit fretted. “We’re too little.”

“I’m hungry,” Mistykit complained.

Bluefur fought the frustration pricking her nerves. “Okay,” she mewed softly. “Let’s eat first, then we’ll start the game. Mosskit, you’re a big, strong kit now. You’ll be fine, I promise.” She gave them what milk she had, which was even less than usual after so many days’ hunger, and then nosed them out of the nest.

Stonekit bounced to the entrance. “I can’t believe we’re going out of camp!” he mewed excitedly.

“Hush,” Bluefur reminded him. “If we wake any cats, we’ve lost the game.”

She squeezed out first and turned to scoop the three kits down into the snow. There’d been a new fall since dusk, but the clouds had cleared and the camp shone white in the moonlight. She scanned the clearing. No sign of life.

Breath billowed from her mouth as she hurried her kits behind the nursery. The air was needle-sharp cold. “We’re going to use the dirtplace tunnel,” she whispered, checking again that no one was around to see them. “That’s what we’d do if we were really sneaking out of the camp.”

Bluefur hurried them through the narrow tunnel and out past the bush that covered the dirtplace.

Mistykit wrinkled her nose. “Stinky!”

Stonekit was staring up through the bare branches. “Wow! It’s big out here!”

“I know, little one.” Bluefur nudged him on. She remembered the first time she had left the camp, when Sunstar—Sunfall, then—had taken her to the top of the ravine just before she was made an apprentice. It had been the biggest adventure of her life, and she hadn’t been able to imagine a time when scrambling up and down the ravine would feel ordinary or easy.

The side of the ravine loomed above them. The kits tipped back their heads and stared up, their eyes huge and filled with the moon.

“I’ll have to carry you up,” Bluefur told them. “Then you can see the real forest.”

Mistykit blinked. “There’s more?”

Bluefur pricked her ears, listening for Stormtail. She knew he was guarding the camp tonight.

Stonekit pricked his ears, too. “Are ShadowClan warriors after us?” he squeaked. “In the game, I mean.”

“They might be,” Bluefur whispered. “We have to keep a lookout, just in case. That’s what makes it so exciting.”

Mistykit whipped around. “I think I see a ShadowClan warrior in the trees,” she warned.

Bluefur’s heart lurched. “Where?”

“Only pretend,” Mistykit purred.

Sighing, Bluefur scooped her up and tackled the first tumble of rocks. Leaving the little gray kit at the top, she went back for Stonekit.

She was panting by the time she had collected the last kit. She left Mosskit until last because she was the smallest. She didn’t wriggle when Bluefur picked her up, but she still felt heavier than a rock.

“My scruff hurts,” Stonekit complained. “I bet I could have climbed some of it myself.”

“There wasn’t time.” Bluefur glanced at the moon rising in the sky. Oakheart would be on his way.

Stonekit stared into the forest, where moon shadows darkened the snow. “I’m going first.” He scampered ahead of his littermates, glancing over his shoulder. “Come on, you two.”

Bluefur nosed Mistykit and Mosskit forward. Even under cover of the trees, the snow was so deep that they had to struggle with every step, leaping out of one drift and sinking into the next. She scooped them along, relieved that Stonekit seemed to be able to manage by himself.

He glanced back at her. “Does the forest go on
forever?
”

Bluefur had wondered the same thing, all those seasons ago. She shook her head. “But ThunderClan has a lot of territory. That’s what feeds us and makes us strong.”

“It’s not feeding the Clan much at the moment,” Mosskit grumbled.

“You should see it in greenleaf.” Bluefur’s heart twisted. They’d
never
see it in greenleaf. They’d be RiverClan. Suddenly she wanted them to know everything about their birth
Clan, and what it was to be a forest cat. “There are squirrels and birds and mice. All good hunting, once you’ve learned the techniques.”

Stonekit squashed himself to the snowy ground. “Redpaw’s already told me how to do a hunting crouch,” he mewed.

“That’s wonderful, darling.” Bluefur felt a surge of pride as she saw his tail sticking out straight and still, keeping his haunches low while managing to lift his belly off the ground. He was a natural.

“You try it,” she urged Mosskit and Mistykit. She wanted them to keep some memory of how ThunderClan hunted.

The two kits crouched awkwardly.

“The snow’s too cold,” Mistykit protested, fidgeting.

What am I doing?
The forest was freezing. They needed to keep moving. Bluefur shook the snow from her whiskers. “Come on,” she urged. “We can practice hunting another day.”

They were halfway to Sunningrocks when the kits began to tire. Mistykit was shivering, and Mosskit’s eyes were glazed with exhaustion.

“Can we go home now?” she whimpered. “It’s cold and I’m tired.”

“We have to keep moving,” Bluefur insisted, fishing Stonekit out of a drift. Snow had clumped to his fur and slowed him down.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore!” Mistykit wailed.

Stonekit didn’t try to change her mind. He just crouched beside her, shivering so much that Bluefur could hear his teeth
rattling. Bluefur realized how tiny they were out there beneath the trees, how thin their pelts were. They should be snuggling beside the warmth of her belly, not trekking through the forest on a journey that no warrior would try in this weather.

“Just a bit farther,” she urged.

Stonekit sat down and stared at her. “I can’t feel my paws,” he announced. “How can I walk if I don’t know where my paws are?”

Mosskit and Mistykit huddled together. They looked as if they couldn’t even feel their noses.

She had to get them to Sunningrocks! ThunderClan depended on it.

An owl hooted. Bluefur stiffened, scanning the treetops as she gathered her kits closer. They’d be nothing more than a mouthful of tasty prey to a hungry owl.

“I’ve got an idea,” she told them. Digging with her ice-numb paws, she scooped a hole in the snow underneath some ferns. “In you go,” she encouraged. The kits stumbled in and clustered into a small, shivering clump. At least they were out of the wind now.

“I’ll be back for you in a moment.” Bluefur bounded a tree-length away and dug another hole, then hurried back to her kits.

“Where did you go?” Mistykit wailed.

Mosskit’s eyes were wide with fear. “We thought you weren’t coming back!”

Bluefur’s heart twisted. “Oh, my precious kits,” she murmured. “I’ll always come back.” The words froze in her throat.
How could she make a promise like that?
Forgive me, StarClan!

Swallowing her grief, she carried her kits one at a time to the next snow-hole, and pushed on alone to dig another.

Little by little, snow-hole by snow-hole, they drew nearer Sunningrocks. Each time she carried them, her kits complained less, struggled less, until they were hanging like limp, curled leaves when she tucked them into the final snow-hole.

“Can we go home now?” Stonekit whimpered.

“There’s someone we need to meet first.” Bluefur forced herself to sound bright.

“Who?” Mistykit’s mew was dull, as though she didn’t really care what happened.

Bluefur glanced through the trees toward Sunningrocks. There was no sign of Oakheart. “Let’s all rest here for a bit,” she suggested. She squeezed into the snow-hole and wrapped herself around her kits.

They were colder than the snow, and their pelts crunched with frost.

“Can we go home yet?” Mosskit’s mew was little more than a whimper.

“You can sleep for a while here,” Bluefur told her.

Mosskit’s eyes were already closed. Mistykit snuggled closer.

“It’s been a good adventure.” Stonekit yawned and tucked his nose beneath his paw. “Did we win?”

Bluefur bent down and pressed her muzzle against the top of his head. “Oh, yes, little one. You won.”

Curling her tail around them, she pulled them tight into her belly. They were too tired to feed. She doubted she had any milk left for them anyway.

I will love you forever, my precious kits. Thank you for spending this moon with me
.

She began to lap their pelts with her tongue, hoping to warm their cold, tired bodies.

Stonekit fidgeted. “Get off, I want to sleep.”

Mistykit was too tired to complain, her breath coming in tiny billows.

“Mosskit?”

The gray-and-white kit wasn’t fidgeting. Bluefur lapped her pelt again. “Mosskit!” Panic started to grip her. She stared at the little bundle of fur, looking for the rise of her flank, a puff of frozen breath.

The kit was perfectly still.

Bluefur licked harder. “Mosskit, please wake up. Please. There’s warmth and safety just on the other side of the river. Your father will look after you, I promise. Just a little bit farther, my tiny, brave daughter.”

Bluefur stopped licking and looking down at the small, snow-damp body.
Wake up!

Bluefur
. Snowfur’s breath stirred her whiskers. Bluefur smelled the scent of her sister drifting around the walls of the snow-hole.
Let her go. I’ll look after her
.

“No! Don’t take her, please.”

She’s already gone. There’s nothing you can do.

Bluefur gathered Mosskit between her paws. Mistykit and
Stonekit stirred at her belly but didn’t wake.
She wasn’t supposed to die!

It was her time
. Snowfur’s mew echoed in her ears.
I’ll take care of her in StarClan.

Snowfur’s scent faded and the icy tang of leaf-bare filled the snow-hole once more. Mosskit didn’t move.

“Bluefur?” Oakheart’s muzzle appeared at the mouth of the hole, sending warm fishy breath billowing inside.

Stonekit woke up and twitched his tail. “Yuck! What’s that stench?”

“Nothing, little one. Don’t be rude.” Bluefur forced herself to concentrate. She could still save two of her kits. “Go back to the rocks,” she told Oakheart. “I’ll bring them to you.”

“But I could carry one,” Oakheart offered.

Bluefur glared at him. “I haven’t told them who you are yet. Go back!”

As Oakheart disappeared, she roused Mistykit. “We have to get moving.”

“But I was just getting warm.”

“You’ll be even warmer soon,” Bluefur promised.

“Where are we going?” Stonekit demanded.

“I’m taking you to meet your father.”

Stonekit looked confused. “Do you mean Thrushpelt? Runningkit told me that’s who White-eye said was our father.”

“Your
real
father. Oakheart. From RiverClan.”

“From
RiverClan?
” Stonekit echoed in disbelief.

“Hurry up,” Bluefur ordered, nudging them out into the snow.

Mistykit glanced back into the hole. “What about Mosskit?”

“I’ll come back for her.”

“But you said we were ThunderClan,” Stonekit wailed. “How can we be RiverClan as well?”

Bluefur didn’t answer. She let the kits stumble along underneath her belly, sheltered from the snow that had started to fall. She glanced back, as if Mosskit might be struggling after them, wailing at them to let her catch up. To her horror, the snow-hole was starting to fill up.
No! I might lose her!
She looked around wildly for somewhere to leave Stonekit and Mistykit while she went back to rescue their sister. Farther along the riverbank, two shapes were padding steadily away. Had Oakheart brought another cat with him? No—these cats were unhindered by the snow, gliding over the surface. Behind them, the snow was white and unmarked. These cats left no paw prints behind. One was full-grown, with a thick pelt of white fur that made her almost invisible. The other was patched with gray, and barely as high as her companion’s belly. The kit was looking up eagerly at Snowfur as they walked, as if she was telling her something exciting.

Good-bye, Mosskit. Snowfur will look after you now
.

“Ow!” Beneath Bluefur, Stonekit crashed forward onto his nose. “This ground is
hard
!” he yowled.

They had reached the edge of Sunningrocks. Paw steps crunched toward them.

“Are they okay?” Oakheart asked quietly.

Bluefur nodded without looking up at him. His scent
wreathed around her, warm and comforting. For a fleeting moment Bluefur longed to go with him. She wanted to walk the rest of her days at Oakheart’s side. Never have to leave him or her kits.

But she couldn’t.

She had to save her Clan.

The kits were staring up at the stranger with their heads on one side.

“This is Stonekit,” Bluefur trembled as she touched the light gray kit with her nose. “And this is Mistykit.” Her throat grew tight. She began to back away, her eyes blurring.
I can’t say good-bye to them!
“Please take care of them.”