Bluestar's Prophecy

When sleep came, it came furiously, chaotic with images and sounds. Bluefur dreamed of stars swirling above a wind-tossed forest. The gale tugged her fur as it swept from the moorland to the edge of the gorge where she teetered, staring down into the foaming torrent far below. A blotch of white pelt was spinning in the crashing waters, flung downstream by the raging current.

“Snowfur!” Bluefur’s panicked screech was whipped away by the wind. Below, her sister disappeared, sucked down by the water, then thrown up again just long enough to shriek, “Whitekit!”

Horror clutched Bluefur’s heart as she saw a smaller scrap spun in the current farther downstream.

“My son!” Snowfur’s yowl echoed from the towering walls of rock that channeled the water into a seething fury.

“No!” Bluefur raced along the edge of the gorge, scrabbling over boulders, leaping ledges, heading downstream to where she knew the gorge opened into calmer waters. She could reach Snowfur and Whitekit there, if the jagged rocks jutting midstream did not batter them to death first.

She felt their terror, sensed their paws churning helplessly against the massive flood as the water wrenched them down, filling their ears and eyes and noses. She felt their aching lungs gasp for breath as they struggled to reach air. She felt their fragile bodies slam past rocks and be dragged over grazing stone, buffeted by boulder after boulder as the current swept them mercilessly on.

Where the gorge ended and the water flowed out past gently sloping shores, Bluefur waded into the shallows and peered upstream, searching for Snowfur and Whitekit. The water drenched her pelt, tried to pull her away from the cliffs, but she dug in her claws, gripping the riverbed and praying to StarClan.

It should be me drowning, not them. That is my destiny, not theirs.

Snowfur appeared first, flung out of the canyon with her head barely above water. “Save my son!” Her terrified shriek was choked by the waves as the river sucked her under again.

“Snowfur!” Hysterical, Bluefur tried to wade toward her sister, but the torrent pushed her back.

A scrap of white fur bobbed toward her.

Whitekit.

She could save him. The tiny shape hurtled toward her, his paws flailing, his squeals piercing the air.

I won’t let you die.

Plunging in up to her chin, Bluefur lunged for him as he passed, grabbing his scruff in her teeth and pulling him close. She churned her paws until she felt the riverbed beneath them, then dragged him, limp, onto the bank.

“You’re safe now,” she gasped, coughing water. “It’s all right.” Her mew grew fierce as she willed him to open his eyes. “I won’t let anything hurt you, ever!”

But Whitekit lay still, water bubbling at his lips and streaming from his pelt.

Bluefur fought down a wave of panic. Wake up! I saved you! She shivered as she felt the chill of water running in rivulets down her neck.

“Mouse dung!” came Fuzzypelt’s complaint. “The roof’s leaking again.”

Bluefur sat bolt upright. Rain was running into the den, trickling from the yew branches overhead and soaking into her pelt. She leaped out of her nest and bolted from the den.

“Whitekit!” she called as she scrambled into the night-shadowed nursery. Eyes flashed in the darkness, round with alarm.

“Bluefur?” Robinwing’s frightened mew sounded from the darkness. “What’s wrong?”

Bluefur scanned the den, searching for Whitekit’s snowy pelt. “Where is he?” she demanded.

Oh, StarClan, I can’t lose him as well!

“Bluefur!” A delighted mew sounded from Robinwing’s nest and Bluefur saw Whitekit’s pelt glowing in the darkness. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!”

She raced to him, curling herself around his small body, wrapping him to her and closing her eyes gratefully. Thank StarClan, it was only a dream.

“Oof, you’re squashing me!” Whitekit protested. He wriggled, then yawned and relaxed against Bluefur’s flank. Hardly daring to breathe, Bluefur watched him sleep until the dawn light began to filter through the brambles.

He woke with a start, his eyes wide. “I thought I dreamed you’d come to see me,” he chirped. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” He stretched up to lick her cheek and Bluefur felt a stab of guilt. How could she have wanted to abandon him? He was all she had left to remind her of Snowfur.

“Look what I’ve learned.” Whitekit scrambled away from her and crouched on the den floor, his tail straight and his belly pressed on the soft earth in a perfect hunting crouch.

“That’s great,” Bluefur purred. “Who taught you that?”

“Lionheart,” Whitekit mewed proudly. He blinked at her, his round blue eyes so much like his mother’s. “Will you teach me some battle moves?”

“When you’re a little older.”