Bluestar's Prophecy

Adderfang and Stormfur, sharing a thrush beneath Highrock, swung their broad heads to stare at Goosefeather. Speckletail slipped from the nursery entrance, her gaze darting anxiously around the clearing till it rested on the kits. Thistlekit was charging toward the fresh-kill pile with his denmates clustered behind. Fuzzypelt and Robinwing slid out from the warriors’ den and hurried after Stonepelt and Dappletail.

“Look at the vole’s fur,” Goosefeather breathed, his eyes still fixed on the small scrap of prey.

Bluepaw, suddenly crowded out by her Clanmates, slipped between legs and under bellies to see the vole. Goosefeather was running a paw across its flank.

“Look,” the medicine cat hissed. “See how the fur’s parted along here.” With a claw he pointed to the distinct line that ran from the vole’s shoulder to its belly. On one side of the line, the fur bristled toward the ear; on the other, it splayed smooth toward the tail. “See how it appears flattened here?” Goosefeather paused and looked around at his audience.

Adderfang and Stormtail padded closer.

“I can’t see!” Thistlekit bobbed up and down behind Speckletail.

“Hush!” Speckletail ordered, sweeping him back with her tail.

“But what does it mean?” Pinestar demanded.

“It’s like a forest flattened by wind,” Goosefeather growled. “This is how we will be crushed by WindClan.”

Speckletail backed away and folded her tail around Lionkit and Goldenkit, but Lionkit wriggled free and padded boldly toward the vole. “How can a dumb bit of fresh-kill tell you all that?”

“Yes.” Smallear leaned forward. “How can you be sure?”

“He’s a medicine cat!” Adderfang snapped. “He shares tongues with StarClan!”

“The prey-stealing was just the beginning,” Goosefeather went on. “This sign was sent from StarClan as a warning. Like a storm, WindClan will rage through the forest. They will destroy us, tear up our camp, and make ThunderClan territory a wasteland. We will be clawed down like grass in a meadow.”

Moonflower nosed in beside Bluepaw. “That’s impossible!” she meowed.

For all the defiance in her mew, Bluepaw could feel her mother trembling. Around the clearing, she could see some of her Clanmates exchanging doubtful glances, and behind her she heard Swiftbreeze whisper, “We’re not going to take this seriously, are we?”

Why not? Bluepaw wondered. Has Goosefeather been wrong before?

Goosefeather dipped his head. “StarClan has spoken.”

Pinestar was staring at the vole. “When?” he rasped.

Goosefeather blinked. “I can’t tell. But the sign has been sent now to give us time to prepare.”

“Then we must prepare!” Stormtail yowled, lashing his tail.

“There’s no time!” Sparrowpelt barged forward and hooked the vole up with one claw, holding it for all the Clan to see. “We must attack first!”

Adderfang and Stormtail yowled in agreement.

Dappletail clawed the ground. “WindClan doesn’t know we’ve been warned. We have the advantage. We must use it!”

Pinestar took the vole from Sparrowpelt and laid it back on the ground. “There are cold moons ahead,” he meowed slowly, “and kits to be fed.” He gazed around at his Clan. “Can we really risk fighting and injury when we should be strengthening the Clan for leaf-bare?”

“Can we risk not fighting?” Sparrowpelt hissed. “StarClan has warned us that there may be no Clan to strengthen if we don’t act!”

Robinwing padded forward, her dusky brown pelt bristling. “Should we really attack on nothing more than a lingering scent and some flattened fur?”

There was a gasp from some of her Clanmates. Thrushpelt whispered, “You can’t challenge the medicine cat like that!”

Bluepaw glanced at him; she wasn’t sure if he’d meant anyone to hear.

Pinestar eyed the vole, then stared at Goosefeather. “Are you sure?” he demanded.

Goosefeather held his gaze. “Have you ever seen such markings on a piece of fresh-kill?”

Adderfang’s tail quivered. “Is it Goosefeather you doubt, or StarClan?” he challenged.

“If we can’t trust StarClan, then we are lost,” Dappletail muttered.

Bluepaw saw anguish darken Pinestar’s gaze. She had a sudden, painful understanding of the decision that lay in his paws. Attack WindClan and risk death and injury to his Clan. Delay, and risk being wiped out. And all hung on the meaning in a dead vole’s pelt and Pinestar’s faith in Goosefeather.

Stormtail began to pace. “Why are you hesitating? The decision is easy! You are choosing between survival and destruction!”

Sunfall paced in front of his leader. “But who knows which action will cause destruction and which survival?”

“I think StarClan has made that clear,” Sparrowpelt growled.

Bluepaw could see Pinestar’s gaze darting around his Clan, glittering with unease. Adderfang and Stormtail had wanted to fight from the start. And now they had the backing of StarClan. How could Pinestar refuse? What would happen if he did? How could he lead ThunderClan without the respect of his warriors?

Pinestar dipped his head. “We’ll attack WindClan at dawn.”