Bluestar's Prophecy

Lionpaw ignored her. “I love snowy days,” he murmured, staring into the trees. “Everything looks so clean and bright.”

“You love everything,” Bluepaw growled, letting her bad temper flow freely as she slid off the root and sunk into the deep drift below. It was freezing, but it was better than listening to Lionpaw. He was always cheerful! Ever since he’d moved into the apprentices’ den, it had been impossible to get any sleep. He was always joking and teasing and messing around with the others. Thistlepaw, Sweetpaw, and Rosepaw never stopped purring and fidgeting when Lionpaw was in the den.

Even Snowpaw seemed happier.

Traitor.

Had she forgotten about Moonflower?

Goldenpaw was in the apprentices’ den, too, and it felt as crowded and noisy as the nursery had. Bluepaw envied Leopardpaw and Patchpaw. They were warriors now—Leopardfoot and Patchpelt—and they slept in peace and quiet under the yew bush. Warriors didn’t think it was funny to hide a beetle in a denmate’s nest, didn’t try to wake a denmate up to see how pretty the moon looked.

Lucky Leopardfoot and Patchpelt.

Bluepaw struggled out of the drift, wishing her legs were long enough to keep her belly fur from dragging in the snow. It was filled with soggy white clumps that would take forever to clean out. When she reached Sparrowpelt and Snowpaw, she shook the snow from her whiskers. “What’s the plan?”

Snowpaw’s eyes were bright. “I thought we could leave some nuts or seeds on a tree root to draw the prey out.”

Bluepaw rolled her eyes. “Did you bring any nuts with you?”

Snowpaw shook her head. “Not this time. But I know Goosefeather keeps cob nuts for making ointments. We could bring some next time and—”

Bluepaw cut her off. “Like he’s going to let you use his precious supplies for hunting.”

“We’d only need a few,” Snowpaw pointed out. “And the prey would never get to eat them because we’d catch it first.”

Sparrowpelt was nodding slowly. “I think it’s a clever idea.”

Sunfall tipped his head on one side. “I really think it might work.”

Bluepaw scowled at her mentor. “I suppose you think she’d have caught that squirrel.” She bounded away through the snow, her paws stinging with cold.

“Leaf-bare hunting’s never easy for any cat!” Sunfall called after her.

Bluepaw ignored him.

“Sorry,” she heard Snowpaw meow. “She’s in one of her moods.”

How dare Snowpaw apologize for her? She’s not my mother! Bluepaw shouldered her way into a swath of bracken, shaking loose its thick covering of snow. A narrow trail tunneled through the stems, and she followed it, relieved to feel hard forest floor under her paws. She could smell the cold, stale scent of fox and guessed with a glint of satisfaction that their paws had beaten this track. The thought of bumping into a fox made her claws itch. She could do with a good fight.

She’s in one of her moods. Bluepaw lashed her tail as Snowpaw’s words echoed in her ears.

She stomped farther into the bracken, trying to ignore the guilt pricking at her pelt. It wasn’t Snowpaw’s fault she felt so angry. Every morning since Moonflower had died, Bluepaw woke with the same hollow sadness opening like an old wound in her belly. It should be her mother helping her through the snowdrifts, not Sunfall. If Moonflower were still alive, she could help Bluepaw to learn how to hunt so that she didn’t appear so stupid in front of her denmates. Why wasn’t she there?

A few paw steps on, the bracken trail widened and Bluepaw emerged into a hollow, open to the sky and thick with snow. A sandy bank faced her, scooped out and topped by a white layer of snow. A hole gaped at its base, shadowy inside, and though the snow at its lip was untouched, the hot, fresh stench of fox drifted from the darkness.

Fox burrow.

Bluepaw stared into the shadows, her hackles rising. She felt angry enough to take on a whole family of foxes. As she unsheathed her claws, bracken crackled behind her. She stiffened, ready to fight, as paw steps thumped the frozen earth. She whirled around, her ears flat, and saw Sunfall burst from the golden fronds.

“What in the name of StarClan are you doing here?” he growled. “Can’t you smell fox?”

“Of course I can!” Bluepaw snapped back.

“There’s probably a family of them in there.” Sunfall nodded toward the burrow. “Just waiting for some mouse-brain like you to wander in and give them an easy meal.”

Bluepaw met his stare defiantly and didn’t say anything.

“Do you really think you’re ready to fight a fox?”

Something stirred deep inside the burrow—the sound of huge paws scraping on packed sand—and fear shot through Bluepaw.

Sunfall whisked behind her and nudged her back into the bracken. “Quick!”

Glancing over her shoulder at the shadowy den, Bluepaw let Sunfall guide her back along the trail. Her heart was racing as they burst from the bracken.

Sunfall turned his head and scented the air. “Nothing’s followed us.”