Bluestar's Prophecy

Mosskit’s eyes were wide with fear. “We thought you weren’t coming back!”

Bluefur’s heart twisted. “Oh, my precious kits,” she murmured. “I’ll always come back.” The words froze in her throat. How could she make a promise like that? Forgive me, StarClan!

Swallowing her grief, she carried her kits one at a time to the next snow-hole, and pushed on alone to dig another.

Little by little, snow-hole by snow-hole, they drew nearer Sunningrocks. Each time she carried them, her kits complained less, struggled less, until they were hanging like limp, curled leaves when she tucked them into the final snow-hole.

“Can we go home now?” Stonekit whimpered.

“There’s someone we need to meet first.” Bluefur forced herself to sound bright.

“Who?” Mistykit’s mew was dull, as though she didn’t really care what happened.

Bluefur glanced through the trees toward Sunningrocks. There was no sign of Oakheart. “Let’s all rest here for a bit,” she suggested. She squeezed into the snow-hole and wrapped herself around her kits.

They were colder than the snow, and their pelts crunched with frost.

“Can we go home yet?” Mosskit’s mew was little more than a whimper.

“You can sleep for a while here,” Bluefur told her.

Mosskit’s eyes were already closed. Mistykit snuggled closer.

“It’s been a good adventure.” Stonekit yawned and tucked his nose beneath his paw. “Did we win?”

Bluefur bent down and pressed her muzzle against the top of his head. “Oh, yes, little one. You won.”

Curling her tail around them, she pulled them tight into her belly. They were too tired to feed. She doubted she had any milk left for them anyway.

I will love you forever, my precious kits. Thank you for spending this moon with me.

She began to lap their pelts with her tongue, hoping to warm their cold, tired bodies.

Stonekit fidgeted. “Get off, I want to sleep.”

Mistykit was too tired to complain, her breath coming in tiny billows.

“Mosskit?”

The gray-and-white kit wasn’t fidgeting. Bluefur lapped her pelt again. “Mosskit!” Panic started to grip her. She stared at the little bundle of fur, looking for the rise of her flank, a puff of frozen breath.

The kit was perfectly still.

Bluefur licked harder. “Mosskit, please wake up. Please. There’s warmth and safety just on the other side of the river. Your father will look after you, I promise. Just a little bit farther, my tiny, brave daughter.”

Bluefur stopped licking and looking down at the small, snow-damp body. Wake up!

Bluefur. Snowfur’s breath stirred her whiskers. Bluefur smelled the scent of her sister drifting around the walls of the snow-hole. Let her go. I’ll look after her.

“No! Don’t take her, please.”

She’s already gone. There’s nothing you can do.

Bluefur gathered Mosskit between her paws. Mistykit and Stonekit stirred at her belly but didn’t wake. She wasn’t supposed to die!

It was her time. Snowfur’s mew echoed in her ears. I’ll take care of her in StarClan.

Snowfur’s scent faded and the icy tang of leaf-bare filled the snow-hole once more. Mosskit didn’t move.

“Bluefur?” Oakheart’s muzzle appeared at the mouth of the hole, sending warm fishy breath billowing inside.

Stonekit woke up and twitched his tail. “Yuck! What’s that stench?”

“Nothing, little one. Don’t be rude.” Bluefur forced herself to concentrate. She could still save two of her kits. “Go back to the rocks,” she told Oakheart. “I’ll bring them to you.”

“But I could carry one,” Oakheart offered.

Bluefur glared at him. “I haven’t told them who you are yet. Go back!”

As Oakheart disappeared, she roused Mistykit. “We have to get moving.”

“But I was just getting warm.”

“You’ll be even warmer soon,” Bluefur promised.

“Where are we going?” Stonekit demanded.

“I’m taking you to meet your father.”

Stonekit looked confused. “Do you mean Thrushpelt? Runningkit told me that’s who White-eye said was our father.”

“Your real father. Oakheart. From RiverClan.”

“From RiverClan?” Stonekit echoed in disbelief.

“Hurry up,” Bluefur ordered, nudging them out into the snow.

Mistykit glanced back into the hole. “What about Mosskit?”

“I’ll come back for her.”

“But you said we were ThunderClan,” Stonekit wailed. “How can we be RiverClan as well?”