Bluestar's Prophecy

“Good idea.” Poppydawn pushed Sweetkit off her belly. The small, mottled tabby opened her mouth, eyes wide with complaint, but Poppydawn silenced her. “Why don’t you go outside and play, too?”

“Come on!” Thistlekit urged. “It’ll be fun! You too, Rosekit!”

Rosekit was playing with a moss ball at the edge of the den, lying on her back as she flicked it into the air and caught it. “But it’s cold and windy outside,” she grumbled. “When Featherwhisker brought the mouse, he said rain’s coming.”

“All the more reason to get some exercise before it does,” Poppydawn advised.

Bluepaw let out a small meow to let them know she was there.

“Hello, Bluepaw!” Poppydawn broke into a purr. “I didn’t see you come in. I hear you made a great catch yesterday. Weedwhisker was certainly pleased to have such a big meal.”

“I was just lucky,” Bluepaw replied, trying to be modest.

“I’m sure it was more than luck,” Poppydawn meowed.

Bluepaw shrugged, secretly pleased that her old denmates had heard about the squirrel. “I’ve come to clean out the den.”

“There!” Speckletail meowed, whisking Lionkit and Goldenkit out of the nest with her tail. “It’s time you all went outside and got some fresh air. Bluepaw will need room.”

Rosekit stopped playing with her moss ball and sat up. “But what if it rains?”

“It’s too chilly to go out,” Goldenkit wailed.

“It’s okay, I can work around you,” Bluepaw offered.

“No,” Poppydawn meowed firmly. “True warriors don’t hide from the weather.”

“Exactly,” Thistlekit agreed. “Come on, you two.” He padded around the den, nudging each of the other kits toward the entrance. “I’ll make sure the wind doesn’t blow you away.”

Lionkit was already outside when the others, muttering complaints, let themselves be herded from the den.

Poppydawn rolled onto her back and stretched. “You must be tired after the Gathering.” She yawned.

“How was it?” Speckletail asked.

Bluepaw didn’t dare say that the whole event had gone past in a blur. “It was great.” She began plucking old straws and strands of bracken from the edge of Speckletail’s nest.

Speckletail climbed out of the way. “What did Pinestar say about WindClan’s thieving?”

Bluepaw tensed. She really couldn’t remember! If only Featherwhisker had told them about the Gathering when he’d told them about the rain.

As luck would have it, the pale silvery tom scraped through the bramble entrance just then with two bundles of moss. Featherwhisker dropped the moss by his front paws. “Pinestar told the Clans that there had been evidence of hunting inside our border and warned that any intruders will be sent away with more than just sharp words,” he explained to the queens.

Thank you, StarClan! Bluepaw decided her warrior ancestors must have taken pity on her.

“Did he mention WindClan?” Poppydawn wondered.

“Not out loud, but he was looking at Heatherstar as he spoke,” Featherwhisker replied.

In a flash, Bluepaw recalled the WindClan leader. Heatherstar had been sitting on the Great Rock with the other Clan leaders, her pale pelt tinged rose even in the silver moonlight, her blue eyes blazing as she returned Pinestar’s gaze.

“I bet she didn’t like that,” Speckletail commented.

“She didn’t reply,” Featherwhisker mewed darkly.

“Let’s hope Pinestar’s words were enough to warn them off.” Poppydawn sighed. “A battle so close to leaf-bare will do no cat any good. We need to conserve our strength for the cold moons ahead.”

Speckletail nodded. “We should be concentrating on fighting hunger, especially with so many kits in the nursery.”

Bluepaw looked up from her work. “Do you think WindClan was stealing from us?”

“They’ve done it before,” Poppydawn meowed.

Featherwhisker was spreading moss flat with his muzzle. “Let’s hope they don’t do it again.”

“Bluepaw! Bluepaw!” Snowpaw’s mew came from the clearing outside. She sounded excited.

Bluepaw glanced at Featherwhisker, wondering if he’d mind if she left him for a moment.

“Go on,” he mewed. “I’ll manage here.”

Quick as a mouse, Bluepaw turned and slid out of the den.

Snowpaw was sitting proudly by the fresh-kill pile with the wind tugging her long fur. A vole lay at her paws. “My first catch!” she called as Bluepaw raced to join her.

Bluepaw sniffed the vole. It smelled fresh and warm, and it made her mouth water. “My favorite!”

Goosefeather, crouching by the nettle patch, got to his paws and wandered over. “You are both good hunters,” he meowed approvingly. But when he glanced down to admire the vole, he froze and his tail bushed out as his eyes grew wide as an owl’s.

“StarClan save us!” he yowled.

Bluepaw peered at the vole. What was wrong with it?

Goosefeather was shaking from nose to tail-tip. “It’s a sign!” he wailed, his mew ringing around the camp. “Destruction for us all!”

Chapter 7

“What’s happening?” Pinestar was at the medicine cat’s side in an instant, Sunfall at his heels.