Bluestar's Prophecy

Redtail glanced at her. “What’s worrying you?”

“I was just thinking,” Bluestar murmured. “We’ve had so few kits born recently. Who will keep the Clan strong and well fed through leaf-bare? The elders’ den gets fuller each season.” Halftail, Smallear, Patchpelt, One-eye, and Dappletail all made their nests there now.

On the far side of the clearing, Spottedleaf emerged from the fern tunnel. She was the Clan’s only medicine cat since Featherwhisker had died, killed by the same bout of greencough that had taken one of Bluestar’s lives. But Featherwhisker had trained his apprentice well, and Spottedleaf was passionate about the welfare of her Clanmates. She’d cared for White-eye after she’d lost her blind eye completely and moved to the elders’ den, taking the new name One-eye. Her hearing was as poor as her sight these days.

One-eye wasn’t the only warrior to have changed her name. Sparrowpelt had become Halftail when he’d lost the end of his tail to a badger. Now unable to balance properly, he’d moved to the elders’ den, too, and left the tree climbing to his Clanmates.

The tortoiseshell medicine cat looked exhausted. The sun had risen that morning on a camp full of bleeding, disheartened warriors, driven back from Sunningrocks the day before after a desperate attempt to take it back from RiverClan. Bluestar hadn’t wanted to battle over the disputed rocks yet again. So much blood had been lost there already. And for what? A few extra tree-lengths of territory to hunt? But to let RiverClan cats swarm across the river and hunt for forest prey was seen as a sign of weakness by WindClan and ShadowClan.

So they’d fought, with patrols led by Redtail and Tigerclaw, who at times seemed fiercer and thirstier for battle than his mentor, Thistleclaw, ever had. And they had lost, chased back into the forest bloodied and humiliated. Back to their camp of too many elders and too few apprentices.

What would happen to ThunderClan now?

Chapter 45

Bluestar sat alone in the clearing and gazed up at Silverpelt. All around her, the camp stirred with the restless murmuring of wounded warriors.

Unease chilled her pelt. ThunderClan was weaker now than it had been since Pinestar had been leader. Was this how she blazed through the forest?

Spottedleaf padded out of the fern tunnel and halted beside Bluestar.

Bluestar looked at her. “How’s Mousefur?”

“Her wounds are deep.” Spottedleaf settled herself on the night-cool ground. “But she is young and strong. She’ll heal quickly.”

“And the others?”

“They’ll survive.”

Bluestar sighed. “We’re lucky not to have lost any cat.” She tilted her head again and studied the stars. “I’m worried by this defeat, Spottedleaf. ThunderClan hasn’t been beaten in its own territory since I became leader,” she murmured. “These are difficult times for our Clan. Newleaf is late, and there have been fewer kits. ThunderClan needs more warriors if it is to survive.”

“There will be more kits when greenleaf comes,” Spottedleaf pointed out calmly.

Bluestar shifted her paws. “Maybe. But training takes time. If ThunderClan is to defend its territory, it must have new warriors as soon as possible.”

“Are you asking StarClan for answers?” Spottedleaf mewed, following Bluestar’s gaze and staring up at the swath of stars glittering in the dark sky.

“Have they spoken to you?”

“Not for some moons.”

As she spoke, a shooting star blazed over the treetops. Spottedleaf’s tail twitched, and the fur rippled along her spine. Bluestar’s ears pricked up, but she kept silent as Spottedleaf continued to gaze upward. After a few moments, Spottedleaf lowered her head and turned to Bluestar. “A message from StarClan,” she murmured. A distant look came into her eyes. “Fire alone can save our Clan.”

Bluestar’s tail bristled. “Fire?” The ThunderClan leader fixed her clear blue gaze on the medicine cat. “You’ve never been wrong, Spottedleaf,” she meowed. “It must be so. Fire will save our Clan.”

But how?

“Goosefeather once said I would be the fire,” Bluestar confessed, uneasy at sharing the old medicine cat’s prophecy after all these moons.

“I know.” Spottedleaf gazed at her leader with clear, unblinking eyes.

“Was he right?” Bluestar leaned forward, desperate with curiosity. Had she been chasing an empty dream all these years? Had she sacrificed her kits for nothing?

“You saved the Clan from Thistleclaw’s leadership. He would have drowned us in blood. And you’ve led the Clan through many moons, keeping it strong and safe.”

Bluestar shook her head. “And now I have led it to defeat. That’s not exactly blazing through the forest.”

“Sunningrocks will be won and lost many more times.” Spottedleaf shrugged.

“But if I have followed my destiny, why does StarClan still speak of fire now?”

“Perhaps you haven’t finished,” Spottedleaf mewed.

“What more can I do?”