Bluestar's Prophecy

“Where’d you go?”

“Tallpines.”

Thrushpelt glanced past her shoulder at the nursery. “How’s Whitekit?”

“Fine.”

“He’s lucky to have you to watch out for him.”

“I don’t know.” Bluefur looked at her paws. “I’ve not done too great so far.”

“You’ve had a lot to deal with.” His gaze grew soft. “I think you’d make a great mother.”

Bluefur opened her mouth, searching for words, her ears hot. Thrushpelt shifted his paws as though he was regretting what he’d said.

“There’s Rosetail!” Relieved to see her denmate padding past with a vole in her jaws, Bluefur bounded away and fell in beside her.

Rosetail dropped the vole on the fresh-kill pile. “You and Thrushpelt make such a great couple.”

Bluefur backed away. She’d been hoping to escape embarrassment, not make it worse. “He—he’s a good friend,” she blurted. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Really?”

“I’m too busy with Whitekit to worry about stuff like that,” Bluefur mumbled.

“But you must have time to look for a mate, and Thrushpelt is obviously interested in you.”

“Snowfur’s kit is more important,” Bluefur insisted. “Now that he’s got no mother, it’s up to me to look after him.” There was no way she was going to let Thistleclaw be the greatest influence in his life. There was more to being a Clan cat than fighting and chasing off trespassers. That’s what had killed Snowfur.

Rosetail was still chatting. “I’ve just seen Tawnyspots,” she reported. “He’s in the medicine den. Says he’s too sick to eat. Maybe he’ll stop being Clan deputy.”

“What?” Bluefur snapped from her thoughts.

“Sunstar will have to appoint someone else.”

Bluefur blinked. “Stormtail?” The gray warrior would be pleased.

“Or Adderfang?” Rosetail suggested.

Bluefur narrowed her eyes. The deputy needed to have wisdom as well as courage. Not that Adderfang was mouse-brained, but he saw only as far as the battle and never beyond.

“Maybe Thistleclaw.”

Rosetail’s new suggestion made Bluefur gasp. “He’s too young!”

“He says he’s going to be the youngest deputy the Clans have ever seen.”

“No way.”

“He talks about it all the time,” Rosetail meowed. “Deputy!” She snorted. “As if Sunstar would give him the chance to lead us all into battle at the flick of a tail!”

Rigidly keeping her encounter with Thrushpelt out of her mind, Bluefur rummaged through Mumblefoot’s nest and plucked out the last ragged scrap of moss. With no apprentices in the Clan, the younger warriors were taking turns cleaning out the elders’ den. Since Bluefur had returned early from her morning patrol, she had volunteered to see to the elders by herself.

“Lionheart’s going to bring fresh bracken later,” she told him.

“Well, I hope it’s not too much later,” Weedwhisker complained. “You’ve hardly left me anything to rest on.”

Larksong purred. “You’ve got plenty of padding to keep you comfortable till then.”

It was true; after a prey-rich greenleaf, Weedwhisker was fatter than ever.

“I promised Featherwhisker I’d check you for ticks as well,” Bluefur meowed.

Stonepelt shook his broad head. “We can do that ourselves,” he assured her.

“But what if—”

“If we find any, I’ll go to Featherwhisker for the bile myself.”

“Thanks.” Bluefur was grateful. She wanted to be out in the forest patrolling and hunting for her Clan. She had a lot of catching up to do.

Just then, however, Sunstar called from outside the fallen tree, “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath Highrock.”

Bluefur wondered why he still used Pinestar’s traditional call to the Clan; everyone knew Frostkit, Brindlekit, Spottedkit, Willowkit, and Redkit would be bundling out of the nursery to find out what was going on, even though they weren’t old enough to recognize prey, let alone catch it.

Tigerkit was already in the middle of the clearing, gazing up at Sunstar, when Bluefur pushed her way from the tangle of branches. Swiftbreeze and Robinwing were squeezing out of the nursery, their kits wriggling out beside them, eyes bright with excitement. Fuzzypelt and White-eye were on their paws beside the nettle patch. Lionheart and Goldenflower were dragging a bundle of bracken through the camp entrance; they abandoned it beside the barrier of gorse and hurried to join their Clanmates. Adderfang had been stretched outside the warriors’ den, and Poppydawn and Speckletail had been chatting with Windflight and Dappletail at the edge of the clearing. They all came to join Featherwhisker and Goosefeather, who sat beside Sparrowpelt with their tails wrapped neatly over their paws.

As Bluefur settled beside Rosetail, she noticed Tawnyspots, thin and trembling, crouched in the fern tunnel, shadows dappling his dull pelt.

The Clan stared up expectantly at the ThunderClan leader.

“Clanmates, it’s time to welcome a new apprentice.” Sunstar, his eyes fixed on Tigerkit, leaped down from Highrock and beckoned the young tom forward. Leopardfoot quivered with pride as the ThunderClan leader went on.