Bluestar's Prophecy

Sunstar nodded. “We’ll tell them that we own Sunningrocks, and that we’ll shred any RiverClan cat who dares set paw on it again.”

Dappletail blinked. “March into their camp and tell them that? It’ll be suicide.”

Tigerclaw growled, “Not if we send a strong enough patrol.” His amber eyes narrowed. “We go in peace but threaten war if they don’t cooperate.” He clearly approved of the plan. Bluefur pictured the broad-shouldered warrior standing in RiverClan’s camp; suddenly the nursery and the elders’ den would seem vulnerable. RiverClan would be likely to agree to anything.

“Then we’re agreed?” Sunstar glanced around the Clan.

Adderfang nodded. “It sounds like a good plan.”

“When word gets out that RiverClan gave up Sunningrocks without a fight, the other Clans will fear us all the more,” Thistleclaw added.

Bluefur’s tail flicked. She wasn’t so sure. There was something devious in the plan that pricked at her conscience. Perhaps she was just being oversensitive. Sunstar had come up with a way of avoiding a battle. That showed good leadership. But to threaten RiverClan in their camp? Elders and kits lived there. Hadn’t they learned from the attack on WindClan that camps were no place for a battle?

She shook the thought away. Sunstar would never let innocent cats be threatened.

She glanced at Thistleclaw.

He might.

“Then it’s settled,” Sunstar decided. “I’ll lead the patrol. Featherwhisker, Tawnyspots, Lionheart, Whitestorm, Thrushpelt, Adderfang, Stormtail, and Bluefur. You will come with me.”

Thistleclaw blinked. “Not me?”

“You stay and guard the camp with Tigerclaw,” Sunstar told him. “With so many warriors out of camp, we’ll need to leave behind a strong patrol.”

Bluefur felt a glimmer of satisfaction. Without Thistleclaw’s menacing presence, ThunderClan’s proposition would be more likely to appear simple and fair.

The rain stopped as the patrol set out, but the forest was drenched and Bluefur’s pelt was quickly soaked all over again. She pushed through the wet undergrowth after her Clanmates. When they emerged from the forest and skirted Sunningrocks, following the riverbank to the stepping-stones, a cold wind swirled around them. Bluefur shivered as it tugged her fur, and the thought of crossing the river made her even colder. Sunstar led the way across the stepping-stones. Bluefur stiffened when she saw one of the small flat stones wobble beneath his paws.

Goldenflower and Lionheart followed, hopping nimbly over the stones. Bluefur stood back to let the others push past her. Then she was alone on the shore with Thrushpelt.

“You can go first,” he offered.

Bluefur stared at the line of stones and the dark water swirling around them. She padded forward on shaking paws. Goosefeather’s prophecy rang in her ears as she paused at the water’s edge: Even the most powerful flames can be destroyed by water.

“Go on,” Thrushpelt urged.

“Wait!” Bluefur’s paws felt like lumps of wood.

“We have to stay with the patrol,” Thrushpelt warned.

Bluefur pushed herself forward, springing onto the first stone. Water splashed and gurgled around her. The blood roared in her ears.

Stupid Goosefeather!

She leaped to the next stone, swaying for a heart-stopping moment before she found her balance and gathered her haunches to jump again.

Stupid prophecy!

And again.

It’s probably not even true.

The final stone wobbled as she landed, and water washed over her paws.

Don’t let me drown!

She flung herself to the shore, panting.

Thrushpelt landed beside her a moment later. “That was easy,” he chirped. “I don’t know why RiverClan cats bother swimming.”

Bluefur marched away into the reeds.

The patrol had halted. As Bluefur caught up, she saw that RiverClan warriors were blocking their path, hackles up. From their dripping pelts, she guessed that they’d recently swum across the river. Did they really not prefer to use the stepping-stones? But even with their fur clinging to their bodies, the RiverClan warriors looked sleek and powerful.

Bluefur recognized Crookedjaw at the front of the patrol. Now RiverClan deputy, he had changed from the friendly young apprentice she’d met at his first Gathering. He still had his upside-down mouth, but he held his head high as though he were defiant about his strange expression; there was no longer any hint of humor or apology about the way he looked. She wondered how Oakheart felt about his brother being made deputy.

Crookedjaw unsheathed his claws. “What are you doing on RiverClan land?”

“We want to talk with Hailstar,” Sunstar told him.

Ottersplash leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “About what?”

Sunstar narrowed his eyes. “You ask me to share words meant for your leader?”

Ottersplash snarled.

Crookedjaw waved the warrior back with his tail. “You expect me to lead you straight into our camp?” he countered. “We haven’t forgotten what you did to WindClan.”

“Do we look like a battle patrol?” Sunstar challenged.