Bluestar's Prophecy

She passed Stormtail and Dappletail in their usual spot beside the nettle patch, sharing a squirrel. They spent so much time together now that most of the Clan were waiting for an announcement about kits, but Bluefur had heard Poppydawn tell Swiftbreeze that some she-cats never had kits, however much they wanted them.

Bluefur continued through the camp. Sparrowpelt and Fuzzypelt were patching the nursery with freshly fallen leaves. Robinwing had brought Whitekit out of the nursery and was washing him.

“Hello, Bluefur!” he called, trying to duck away from Robinwing’s tongue, but Robinwing pulled him back and held him still with a firm paw.

Rosetail looked up as Bluefur approached. “I have never seen any cat look so disappointed.” She was gazing at Thrushpelt, who looked lost beside the fresh-kill pile.

“Shut up.” Bluefur flung her sparrow on the ground and lay down.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rosetail demanded. “I wish I had a cat following me around like that.”

“I don’t have time for a mate.”

Rosetail’s gaze sharpened. “You have your eye on the deputyship, don’t you?”

Bluefur’s ears burned. “So what if I do?”

Rosetail shrugged. “Well, not many cats get to be deputy, so don’t miss out on other things while you’re waiting.”

As she washed her face after her meal, Goosefeather padded into the clearing, burrs sticking from his pelt. He took a piece of fresh-kill and started wolfing it down.

“Does he have to eat so noisily?” Bluefur complained, feeling queasy. She tried to imagine Goosefeather as a fit young apprentice, but couldn’t. He’d probably been born a shambling old badger. It was hard to believe that he and Moonflower had been littermates.

Tigerpaw burst through the gorse tunnel, his eyes bright. Thistleclaw padded in after. They must have been training. Tigerpaw was still bursting with energy.

“Can we practice those battle moves again?” he asked his mentor.

“Practice by yourself for a while.” Thistleclaw padded to the fresh-kill pile.

“But who am I going to fight?” Tigerpaw called after him.

“Use your imagination,” Thistleclaw growled back.

Tigerpaw glanced around the clearing. Bluefur stiffened when the young apprentice’s gaze came to rest on Whitekit, dozing beside Robinwing in the afternoon sunshine. Relief flooded her as his gaze moved on.

“I could fight a whole Clan of enemies,” he boasted to no cat in particular.

Poppydawn was dragging bracken across the clearing. She looked up. “RiverClan had better watch out,” she purred.

Leopardfoot trotted over from the warriors’ den. “You’re back,” she meowed happily. She sniffed her son’s pelt. “Any injuries?”

“Not yet.” Tigerpaw sounded disappointed. “But I learned a new move. Watch this!” He kicked his hind legs in the air, then landed with a twist and a slash of a forepaw.

Brindlekit and Frostkit had slid out of the nursery to watch the young tom. Frostkit’s eyes were huge and round with admiration.

“Very good!” Adderfang called from beside the nettle patch.

Stormtail nodded. “I couldn’t do better.”

Bluefur narrowed her eyes. The strength in the young tom’s shoulders was impressive and his claws seemed to have outgrown the rest of him. They’d left scars in the earth so deep it made her shiver.

Only Goosefeather didn’t look up to admire Tigerpaw. He hunched tighter over his fresh-kill. “I’m sorry, StarClan,” he muttered. “That cat should not have survived. This was never meant to happen.”

Startled, Bluefur looked around. None of the other cats seemed to have heard him. Only her. Does Goosefeather believe that Tigerpaw should have died?

Chapter 32

“Look!” Whitekit trotted across the clearing and tossed a moss ball at Frostkit. “I found another one.”

Frostkit crouched, ready to pounce, but Brindlekit scooted past her and pawed the ball away. Spottedkit, Redkit, and Willowkit sat like three baby owls outside the nursery, their eyes fixed on the moss as the older kits tossed it back and forth.

Bluefur purred as it rolled to her paws. She hooked it up and held it high, making the kits jump for it.

Robinwing and Swiftbreeze lay dozing in the pale leaf-bare sun. Robinwing opened one eye. “Thanks for keeping them busy, Bluefur.”

“I enjoy it!” She tossed the moss ball into the air and watched the kits scramble for it.

It was easier to play with Whitekit now that Thistleclaw was out with Tigerpaw so much. He was working his apprentice hard, waking him before dawn and drilling him in the sandy hollow any time they weren’t patrolling or hunting. Tigerpaw had grown so quickly that he looked like a warrior after only a moon of training. Bluefur just wished he didn’t have to show off his battle skills in the camp quite so much.

“Teach me a battle move!” Whitekit begged her daily.

“You’re not old enough,” she would tell him. She was going to make sure he made it to warrior without any serious injuries. She owed it to him and to Snowfur.