Bluestar's Prophecy

Spottedkit was struggling out of Swiftbreeze’s nest. The white splashes on her tortoiseshell pelt gleamed in the pale dawn. Whitekit scrambled over to her. “Do you want me to show you the hunter’s crouch?” he mewed. She nodded and hunkered down while Whitekit steadied her tail. “You have to keep it really still,” he muttered through the mouthful of fur.

“Thank you for looking after him so well,” Bluefur mewed to Robinwing.

The small brown queen lifted her head. Frostkit and Brindlekit stirred against her belly with mews of protest. “He’s a lovely kit,” Robinwing purred.

Bluefur felt a stone lodge in her throat. “I wish I’d visited more often.”

Robinwing touched the tip of her tail to Bluefur’s shoulder. “Kits are very forgiving,” she murmured. “He won’t remember what you didn’t do, only what you did. You can change everything if you want to.”

Bluefur gazed into her amber eyes. “I do.”

“Attack!” Whitekit gave a warning yowl and launched himself at Bluefur. His tiny claws pricked her pelt as he dangled from her fur. Growling like a badger, she stomped around the den, pretending to try to throw him off while he squealed with delight.

Fur scraped at the entrance.

“Thistleclaw!” Whitekit greeted his father with a happy mew as the tom squeezed into the nursery.

Thistleclaw looked over his son’s head and scowled at Bluefur. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting Whitekit.” Bluefur stood her ground as Thistleclaw glared at her.

“Sunstar wants you on patrol,” Thistleclaw told her. “You should go.” He narrowed his eyes. “The sooner, the better.”

He turned to Whitekit, and tumbled him out of the nursery with a hefty paw. “Now, young warrior, are you ready to practice those battle moves I showed you?” He pushed his way out after his kit. “You never know when some mangy RiverClan furball is going to steal into camp.”

Bluefur followed, her ears twitching. Whitekit was too young for battle training. “He might get hurt!” she protested.

Thistleclaw was already urging the young kit to rear up on his stubby hind legs. “Come on, my little warrior. See if you can duck this.” He swiped a paw close to Whitekit’s ear.

Bluefur caught up to them. “Stop! He’s not ready!”

Thistleclaw curled his lip. “How would you know?” he challenged. “You’ve hardly looked at him in the last moon.”

Bluefur flinched.

“I’m all he has now,” Thistleclaw went on. “And I’ll bring him up to be a warrior the Clan can be proud of.”

“He has me, too!” Bluefur argued.

But Thistleclaw was already shooing Whitekit away. Bluefur watched them go, feeling hollow.

Goosefeather’s stinky breath stirred her ear fur. “A thistle has thorns sharp as claws,” he whispered. “Don’t let Whitekit get hurt by them.”

Bluefur turned, but the medicine cat was already shambling away, mumbling to himself as though he wasn’t even aware that he’d spoken to her. Frustration surged through her paws. Why did Goosefeather always have to talk in riddles? Was he warning her about Thistleclaw? Surely Whitekit was safe with his father? Snowfur had trusted him, and because of that Bluefur had tried to believe the spiky warrior was strong and loyal.

She looked back at him with distrust pricking in her pelt.

He was instructing Whitekit again. “Now when you dive, try twisting at the last moment.”

Was the young kit really ready for such an advanced battle move?

“There you are, Bluefur!” Sunstar called to her from below Highrock. “I’m organizing the patrols.” Fuzzypelt, Dappletail, Adderfang, and Poppydawn were gathered around him. Goldenflower and Lionheart paced back and forth.

Shaking her whiskers to clear her thoughts, Bluefur padded over to join them. “Where’s Tawnyspots?” The ThunderClan deputy usually managed the patrols.

“He’s sick,” Sunstar told her.

“Haven’t you noticed how thin he’s been looking lately?” Goldenflower commented.

Bluefur realized that for too long she hadn’t noticed much apart from her own grief. “Is Featherwhisker treating him?”

Sunstar nodded. “He says he can make him more comfortable.”

“Does he know what’s wrong?”

Sunstar’s eyes darkened. “No, but he says this bout should pass in a few days, like the others.”

Tawnyspots has suffered other bouts of sickness?

Bluefur suddenly felt anxious. Leaf-bare lay ahead like a lion waiting in ambush. It was no time to be ill. “Thistleclaw told me you wanted me for patrol,” she mewed to Sunstar.

“The dawn patrol’s left now.”

“Sorry.” Bluefur’s tail drooped. “I’ll go with the next one.”

Sunstar shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I was glad to hear you were visiting Whitekit.” He glanced over at the snowy kit, still training with his father. “You can go hunting with Thistleclaw instead.”

Bluefur’s heart sank.

At least it would get Thistleclaw away from his son for a while. Not that she wanted to separate Whitekit from his father, but Thistleclaw was urging him to do more and more complex battle moves even though the young tom was starting to look tired. Whitekit had not even eaten yet, and the sun was lifting over the trees.