Bluestar's Prophecy

Bluefur pressed against him. “I’ll look out for you, too.” Her voice came out as a whisper. She knew the river would always divide them.

“I might even climb a few trees to keep in practice,” he joked.

“Yes.” She felt weary with sadness. Why was he so cheerful? Didn’t he realize they would never be together like this again? She gazed into his eyes and knew that he did. Behind the brightness she recognized grief, raw as her own.

“Good-bye,” she whispered, and headed up the slope. She glanced back again and again until the pain of seeing him standing beneath the oak trees was too much to bear. Then she fixed her gaze firmly ahead and bounded up to the top of the hollow. But as she crested the rise, she felt Oakheart’s gaze still scorching her pelt.

I must be as strong as fire!

The woods were full of shadows, and it took her a while to adjust to the dark as she weaved around brambles and squeezed through clumps of fern. Her heart quickened as she neared camp; a Clanmate might be roaming the forest. Not this early, she told herself. But she still tensed at every rustle and scent drifting on the air.

She slid down the ravine, holding her breath as her paws sent a shower of grit tumbling down below. To her relief, Adderfang was nowhere to be seen. The camp entrance was unguarded. She slunk inside and headed straight for the warriors’ den, her gaze flitting nervously around the silent clearing.

Yellow light was rolling across the sky, reaching down to pierce the shadows beneath the trees. The dawn patrol would be gathering soon. Bluefur slid into the yew bush, tense as a hunted mouse, and tiptoed to her nest. Lionheart grumbled as she brushed past his nest, but no one stirred. Curling down into her nest, Bluefur closed her eyes. She didn’t want to sleep; she wanted to remember, to relive the moments she’d spent with Oakheart. She had only spent one night with him, and she loved him more deeply than she had thought was possible. How could she live, never talking to him again? Worse than that—how could she see him at Gatherings or on the shore and pretend that they were enemies?

But there was no choice. She was a ThunderClan warrior, loyal to the warrior code. And that meant she couldn’t be friends with a cat from another Clan. No matter how much he filled her thoughts.

“If you’re listening,” she breathed to Moonflower and Snowfur, “I promise I won’t meet him again.”

Bluefur’s head was fuzzy with tiredness when she joined her Clanmates to wait for orders about the day’s patrols. Lionheart couldn’t wait to get started. “I’ve been stuck in camp all morning,” he complained.

“Someone had to fix that hole in the camp wall,” Adderfang told him.

“And you did a good job, too,” Smallear added. “It’s stronger than ever.”

Thrushpelt hurried over, licking his lips. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “I was starving. Had to eat.”

Dappletail shook her head. “You’d have made Weedwhisker proud,” she teased, reminding them all of the greedy old elder.

Sunstar was pacing around them. Tawnyspots was with Featherwhisker, complaining of sickness, so the ThunderClan leader was in charge of organizing the patrols again.

“Adderfang, take Lionheart, Whitestorm, Thistleclaw, and Tigerclaw,” Sunstar ordered. “Re-mark the new RiverClan borders. But be careful. They might be planning an ambush.” He paused, as though wondering whether to send more warriors.

“We’ll check the area thoroughly before we climb the rocks,” Adderfang assured him.

Sunstar nodded. “Good. Goldenflower, you can take Patchpelt, Thrushpelt, and Bluefur to check the Twoleg border.”

The pale ginger she-cat dipped her head, then turned to the members of her patrol. “Come on,” she called. “Let’s go scare a few kittypets!” Her tone was light and amused, to Bluefur’s relief. Bluefur hadn’t forgotten Thistleclaw’s treatment of the little black kit—and right now, she didn’t think she could scare a mouse.

“We’ll split into pairs,” Goldenflower told them as they reached Tallpines. “I’ll check near the treecutplace with Patchpelt. You two, check the Twoleg border.” She nodded to Bluefur and Thrushpelt.

Bluefur hardly heard her. In her mind, she was sitting in the Great Oak beneath the stars, with Oakheart beside her.

“Are you coming?” Thrushpelt’s mew was muffled by the bramble he was holding back in his jaws. He used his tail to beckon Bluefur through the gap he had made.

“Thanks,” she murmured, padding past him.

“It’s a shame we’re not hunting today. I’d love to pick up some tips from you.” Thrushpelt hurried after her. “You have a great nose.” He hesitated. “I mean, you can detect the slightest scent.”

“Oh…er…thanks,” Bluefur stammered. Thrushpelt was always saying things like this. Why did his enthusiasm feel so clumsy and annoying all of a sudden?

He stopped to re-scent a marker as they reached the border. Bluefur turned away. She stared at the Twoleg fence rising ahead of them. This was where she’d seen Pinestar with Jake.