Bluestar's Prophecy

Her belly rumbling with hunger, Bluefur padded home through the forest. She couldn’t push away the image of Oakheart, and the way his eyes had glittered with sadness. The leaf-bare trees creaked and rattled above her, and on either side of the trail, the bushes were dying back from the cold. Had she really run through there as an apprentice? Chased Snowfur between the trees, caught her first prey, practiced fighting and hunting? She had never realized how easy it had been or how happy she was.

Everything was different now. Even the trees looked unfamiliar.

“Bluefur?”

Thrushpelt was calling her from the trail ahead, his sandy-gray pelt blending with the walls of frost-burnt bracken. “Are you okay?” His eyes were round with concern.

Bluefur padded on with her head down. “Just going back to camp.”

He didn’t step aside to let her pass, but gently held his tail up to block her way. “Stop,” he ordered.

She looked into his eyes and saw a tenderness that took her by surprise.

“Rosetail has just congratulated me on becoming a father,” he meowed.

Bluefur felt the world spin around her. “She couldn’t! She promised!”

“Is she right? Are you having kits?”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell her that you were the father.” Mortified, Bluefur searched for words. “She just guessed, and it was easier…” She stopped. She couldn’t give anything away.

“So you are going to have kits?” Thrushpelt pressed.

Bluefur blinked. “Yes, I am.” She waited for him to ask whose they were. Why she’d lied. But he just stood and watched her.

At last he spoke. “I’m not going to ask who the father is,” he meowed. “I’m sure there’s a reason why you’ve kept this secret.”

Bluefur plucked at a fern straying across the ground. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out differently. I—I would have been happy with you, I know. But now everything has gone wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”

Thrushpelt shifted his paws. “You can tell the Clan I’m the father, if you want. I mean, if it makes things easier.”

Bluefur stared at him. “You’d really do that?” Was she the only cat not willing to make a sacrifice for these kits?

Thrushpelt nodded. “You know how I feel about you, Bluefur. I’d do my best to make you happy, I promise. And I’ll love your kits as though they were really my own.”

“I—I can’t let you,” she began.

Shrieks ripped the air.

Thrushpelt pricked his ears. “Thistleclaw and Tigerclaw have found a trespasser by the sound of it. They may need help.” He hared away down the path, heading for the river.

Bluefur recognized that yowl. Oakheart! She pelted after Thrushpelt, puffing with the effort. She skidded out onto the shore and saw Thistleclaw pinning Oakheart to the stones by his throat. Tigerclaw stood to one side, watching, while Thrushpelt circled nervously, scanning the far bank for cats coming to Oakheart’s rescue.

“You filthy fish-eater,” the spiky warrior was growling into Oakheart’s stricken face. “What are you doing on our territory? I should rip your throat out!”

“There might be more on their way,” Thrushpelt warned. “I’ll get help.” He vanished into the forest.

Terror scorched through Bluefur. “What are you doing?” She darted toward Thistleclaw, unsheathing her claws, her eyes fixed on Oakheart struggling in the warrior’s grip.

Tigerclaw stepped forward to block her. “This RiverClan filth is trespassing,” he growled. “We have to punish him.”

Staring past him, Bluefur could see blood welling at Oakheart’s throat, turning Thistleclaw’s paws red. With a shriek, she surged forward, knocking Tigerclaw off balance. Claws out, she ripped Thistleclaw off Oakheart and flung him aside.

Thistleclaw rolled over and sprang to his paws. “Have you gone mad?” he snarled. “It’s not a kit this time! It’s a RiverClan warrior. He’s invading our territory!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bluefur snapped. “What could he do on his own?”

Thistleclaw glared wildly around. “There may be others!”

“There aren’t.” Oakheart had staggered to his paws, slowly twisting his head from side to side. “I—I got swept here by a wave. I’ll leave now.”

“Not so fast.” Thistleclaw sprang in front of him, blocking his exit.

Bluefur darted between them. “Enough, Thistleclaw! You’ve taught him a lesson. I’m sure he won’t come back here again.” She met Oakheart’s gaze and saw nothing but sadness. “Let him go.” Her plea came as a whisper. She was begging for Oakheart, but the words echoed in her heart. Let him go.

Oakheart stumbled past her and slid into the river.

“Traitor!” Thistleclaw shoved Bluefur, sending her stumbling onto her haunches. His claws were still unsheathed and tufted with Oakheart’s fur. “You’re a coward and a fool! I’ve never once seen you defend our borders. What kind of warrior are you?” He stepped close, his breath coming fast, his eyes wild with blood-hunger. “Do you know that RiverClan warrior?” he hissed slowly.

Fighting back panic, Bluefur forced her pelt to lie flat. “He’s called Oakheart. I’ve seen him at Gatherings.”