Bluestar's Prophecy

“Can’t we congratulate Patchpaw and Leopardpaw?” Bluekit asked, digging her claws into the soft earth.

Moonflower nudged her forward with her muzzle. “They’re busy with their new denmates.”

“We’ll be their denmates soon,” Snowkit mewed excitedly.

Moonflower’s ears twitched. “Not for six moons, you won’t! And only if you’ve learned not to eat poppy seeds by then!”

Chapter 3

Deep in a dream, Bluekit pounced at a butterfly, swiping it from the air. As she pinned it to the ground, its wings tickled her nose. Curious to see it fly away, she let it flutter into the air. It jerked away skyward, beyond her reach, but something was still tickling her nose.

She sneezed and woke up.

A short fluffy tail had strayed from Poppydawn’s overfilled nest and was twitching against Bluekit’s muzzle. She pawed it away grumpily. Snowkit’s weight was pressed against her spine, making her feel hot and squashed. Bluekit and Snowkit weren’t the smallest cats in the nursery anymore. Four moons ago, Poppydawn had had her kits: two she-cats and a tom, called Sweetkit, Rosekit, and Thistlekit. Bluekit had suggested Thistlekit’s name because he had spiky gray-and-white fur that stuck up all over the place. Luckily it was much softer than a real thistle. Snowkit had named Rosekit after the pinky-orange color of her tail. And Sweetkit, who was white with tortoiseshell patches, was named after Pinestar’s mother, Sweetbriar.

At first it had been fun having more kits to play with, but now Bluekit felt as if she hardly had room to stretch. Even with Moonflower sleeping in the warriors’ den most nights, the nursery felt very crowded. Thistlekit, Sweetkit, and Rosekit were growing fast and forever spilling out of Poppydawn’s nest. To add to the clutter, Speckletail had kitted two moons ago, and Lionkit and Goldenkit hardly ever stopped wriggling and mewling.

They were quiet now but, as Bluekit closed her eyes again, Poppydawn grunted in her sleep and, disentangling herself from Rosekit and Sweetkit, rolled over with a sigh. Thistlekit rolled after her, rested his chin on his mother’s flank, and began to snore loudly.

What’s the point of trying to sleep anymore?

Bluekit got to her paws and stretched, a shiver running through her long, sleek tail. With leaf-fall had come chilly mornings, and though the nursery was snug, thin streams of cold air trickled through the bramble walls. She glanced at Speckletail’s nest, envying Lionkit’s thick fur; it ruffled around his neck like a mane. Goldenkit, whose sleek, pale ginger fur made her look much smaller than her brother, stirred beside him and pressed closer to her mother.

Trying not to wake anyone, Bluekit squeezed out of the nursery. She secretly enjoyed having the early morning to herself, when the camp was quiet. The predawn sky stretched overhead, soft and gray as a dove’s wing. She recognized the scents of Sparrowpelt, Windflight, and Adderfang, still fresh in the air. They must have just left on dawn patrol. Crisp brown leaves circled down from the trees and landed gently in the cold clearing. She pressed her paws to the ground, squashing the urge to leap up and snatch one as it fell. That was what kits did; she was nearly an apprentice.

Bluekit breathed deeply, opening her mouth to let the scent of the woods wash against the roof of her mouth. The forest smelled musty, rich with decay, giving up its fragrance like fresh-killed prey. Her mouth watered. She longed to be among the trees beyond the gorse barrier. Padding toward it, she sniffed at the tantalizing smells that drifted through the entrance. She stretched her muzzle forward, trying to peer through the tunnel and wondering what lay in the shadows beyond.

“Do you want to go out?”

Sunfall’s voice made her jump, and she spun around guiltily.

“I was just looking,” she mewed.

“I’ll take you, if you’d like,” the ThunderClan deputy offered.

Bluekit blinked. “What about Pinestar? Won’t he be angry?”

“Not if you’re with me.”

“Should I get Snowkit?” Bluekit meowed. “I bet she’d want to come, too.”

“Let Snowkit sleep,” Sunfall told her gently as he padded away through the tunnel.

Breathless with excitement, Bluekit followed, feeling her tail brush the gorse and the ground beneath her paws, smooth from so many paw steps.

As she emerged on the other side of the barrier, the scents of the forest flooded her nose and mouth. Leaves, earth, moss, prey—flavors so rich she could taste them on her tongue. A wind stirred her whiskers; untainted by the familiar scents of camp, it smelled strange and wild. All around Bluekit, rich leaf-fall hues dappled the forest like a tortoiseshell pelt. Bushes crowded the forest floor, shadowlike in the early light.