Bluestar's Prophecy

“Tigerkit is six moons old and more than ready to begin his training. From this day, until he earns his warrior name, he shall be known as Tigerpaw.”

Bluefur leaned forward, eager to know who his mentor would be. Only that morning, Sunstar had hinted that Bluefur was nearly ready for her own apprentice.

“Thistleclaw will be his mentor.”

The spiky warrior padded forward, tail high, and pressed his broad muzzle to Tigerpaw’s head.

“Tigerpaw! Tigerpaw!” As the Clan cheered his name, Bluefur tried to push away a pang of disappointment. Why had Sunstar chosen Thistleclaw over her? He hadn’t been a warrior as long, and didn’t Sunstar see how dangerous he could be?

Rosetail leaned closer, her breath warm in Bluefur’s ear. “Now he’s going to be even more convinced he’ll be the next deputy,” she whispered.

A shiver ran down Bluefur’s spine and she unsheathed her claws, feeling an odd twinge, as though she were about to go into battle.

Something small brushed behind her. She turned to see Whitekit, who had crept away from his denmates. “I’m glad he didn’t make Tigerpaw your apprentice,” he mewed. “I want you to be my mentor.”

Bluefur glanced at Sunstar. He was watching, eyes narrow. He nodded very slightly as though agreeing with the little white kit. She would be a mentor soon. But would it be soon enough to let her become the next Clan deputy? Her belly tightened when she saw Tawnyspots padding unsteadily back down the fern tunnel.

Poppydawn padded forward as Sunstar went on. “I have one more announcement,” the ThunderClan leader meowed. “Poppydawn has decided to move into the elders’ den.”

Bluefur blinked. She hadn’t realized Poppydawn was so old, though now that she thought about it, she realized the dark brown she-cat often trailed at the back of the patrols and brought home smaller and weaker fresh-kill than her Clanmates did. For the first time she noticed flecks of gray around the warrior’s muzzle.

Poppydawn dipped her head. “I am grateful to my Clan for giving me the chance to serve them this long, and for the peaceful life I will have as an elder,” she meowed formally.

Her Clanmates streamed around her, brushing muzzles, flicking tails.

Tigerpaw shouldered his way through the crowd and touched his nose to Poppydawn’s. “I’ll take better care of you than any other apprentice!” he promised.

“That won’t be hard,” Rosetail whispered. “Considering he’s the only one.”

Bluefur’s whiskers twitched in amusement, but she couldn’t help admiring the young tom’s eagerness, remembering how much she’d resented the dull chores like clearing out dens. Tigerpaw was certainly determined to live by the warrior code. She just prayed Thistleclaw didn’t teach him that fighting was more important than caring for his Clanmates.

“Finally”—Sunstar had one more announcement—“while Tawnyspots is ill, Adderfang will stand in as deputy.”

Stormtail nodded to his denmate as Adderfang puffed out his chest.

“Tawnyspots will return to his duties once he’s recovered,” Sunstar added.

Uneasy glances flashed between Stormtail, Fuzzypelt, and Adderfang. Clearly the senior warriors weren’t as certain of Tawnyspots’s recovery as their leader was.

Goosefeather stepped forward. “I need help gathering herbs,” he announced. The Clan stared at him. Bluefur guessed they were as surprised as she was that the medicine cat was acting like a medicine cat again.

“Bluefur?” Goosefeather tipped his head to one side. “Would you come?”

Bluefur glanced at Sunstar, waiting for permission. The ThunderClan leader nodded. Anxiety fluttered in her belly. Why had Goosefeather picked her? She felt less than comfortable as she followed the shambling tom into the forest. Did he want to talk about the prophecy? She’d assumed he’d forgotten—and was beginning to think that it had just been one of his wild predictions that came to nothing. If not the prophecy, perhaps StarClan had told him about her meeting with Oakheart, and the feelings he’d stirred in her that she had been trying so hard to ignore. StarClan, after all, saw everything. Why wouldn’t they share it with the Clan’s medicine cat?

“I see you’ve taken an interest in Whitekit,” Goosefeather observed as they climbed a leafy slope.

“He’s my kin,” she mewed.

“So am I,” he reminded her, “but you don’t visit me.”

That’s because you’re madder than a hare.

She pushed away the thought, suddenly frightened that he could read her mind.

“I’m glad you’re watching out for him,” Goosefeather went on. “He’s got a good heart, but young kits are easily influenced.”

Was he warning her about Thistleclaw again? She wanted to ask him straight out, but didn’t dare. After all, Thistleclaw was a loyal warrior who’d done nothing but protect and feed his Clan. Her worries might sound weird.

“Have you thought about the prophecy?” he asked.

So he had remembered!

She nodded.