Bluestar's Prophecy

Relief flooded Bluepaw as Hawkheart stopped in his tracks and the other warriors stopped fighting and sat back on their haunches, staring at the ThunderClan leader. Silence fell like night over the camp, except for the pounding of the rain and wind whistling across the moor.

Heatherstar shook the rain from her whiskers and padded slowly toward Pinestar. The ThunderClan leader’s ear was torn, and blood streaked his fox-colored pelt. He met Heatherstar’s blue glare with a hollow gaze and seemed to flinch as she spoke.

“This attack was unjust,” she spat. “StarClan would never have let you win.”

Pinestar didn’t reply.

“Take your wounded and leave.” Heatherstar’s growl was edged with sneering contempt.

Pinestar blinked, then dipped his head.

The ThunderClan warriors began to head for the camp entrance, tails down, heads bowed. Robinwing was limping badly and Sunfall, bleeding from his cheek, pressed against her to help her walk. Smallear struggled to his paws, flanks heaving, and weaved uncertainly across the clearing until Sparrowpelt hurried to guide him. Stonepelt licked at a gash in his shoulder before limping toward the entrance. Adderfang’s eyes gleamed with rage and he ignored the hisses of the WindClan warriors as he stalked past them. Dappletail leaned against Stormtail’s broad shoulders, with trickles of blood washing down around her eyes.

Bluepaw stared at her mother, waiting for her to get to her paws.

“I have to help Moonflower.” She ripped herself away from Swiftbreeze. Terror was rising in her chest. She wasn’t going to let Hawkheart touch her again! She tore down the slope, pushing past dazed WindClan cats. She tried not to wince as her paws splashed through the blood-soaked puddles.

“Bluepaw! Wait!” Swiftbreeze was chasing after, her mew pleading as Bluepaw skidded to a halt beside her mother.

Moonflower’s eyes were half-open.

Thank StarClan!

“Moonflower! Moonflower!” Bluepaw nudged her mother with her nose, waiting for her limp body to push back. But Moonflower only flopped backward.

Bluepaw stared desperately into her mother’s eyes. “It’s me, Bluepaw!” She hoped to see them flash with recognition, but they were dull, filled with the clouds that scudded across the sky.

“Bluepaw.” Pinestar’s soft mew sounded over her shoulder. She spun around and looked up at him.

“Why won’t she get up?” Bluepaw wailed.

Pinestar shook his head. “She’s dead, Bluepaw.”

“She can’t be!” Bluepaw twisted back to her mother, pressing her paws to her flanks and shaking her. “She can’t be dead. We were fighting warriors, not rogues or loners. Warriors don’t kill without reason!”

Hawkheart growled and Bluepaw looked up to see the WindClan medicine cat crouching a tail-length away.

“She tried to destroy our medicine supply,” he snarled. “That was reason enough.”

“But StarClan told us to do it!” Bluepaw stared at Pinestar in desperation. “We had no choice.” She searched Pinestar’s gaze. “They told us to, didn’t they? Goosefeather said so.”

Hawkheart snorted and got to his paws. “You risked so much on the word of Goosefeather?” With a flick of his tail, he turned and stalked away.

“What does he mean?” Bluepaw whispered. Had all this been for nothing? Moonflower couldn’t be dead. The young apprentice began nudging her again with her muzzle. “Wake up!” she begged. “It was all a mistake. You don’t have to be dead.”

She felt Swiftbreeze’s gentle paw pull her back as Pinestar padded forward and grasped Moonflower by the scruff. In silence, the ThunderClan leader dragged his dead Clanmate across the muddy clearing. Bluepaw broke away from Swiftbreeze and ran along beside, pressing her muzzle into her mother’s sodden fur. She still smelled like Moonflower, of softness and the nursery. Come back! You were going to take us into the wood to get moss for our nests! You promised!

“Moonflower?” Snowpaw’s frightened mew sounded from the top of the slope as they emerged from the brambles. The white apprentice half ran, half slid down the slope and began to lap at Moonflower’s pelt.

“Is she badly hurt?” she asked between licks. “Featherwhisker’s tending to Smallear. Should I call him?”

Bluepaw stared blankly at her sister. “She’s dead,” she whispered.

“No!” Snowpaw’s wail ended in a whimper as her paws crumpled beneath her. As Pinestar trudged up the slope, still carrying Moonflower, Bluepaw dropped to her belly and buried her nose in her sister’s white fur.

“She promised she wouldn’t leave us,” Snowpaw wailed.

“It’s okay,” Bluepaw lied, summoning up every shred of strength she could find. “I’ll take care of you now.”

Snowpaw flashed her an angry glance. “I don’t need taking care of. I need Moonflower!” She leaped to her paws and dived up the slope after Pinestar.

Bluepaw watched her go. I’ll take care of you anyway, she vowed.