Bluestar's Prophecy

Suddenly exhausted, Bluepaw lay down beside the tree stump. Lionpaw paced around her. “I wish I’d gone!” he mewed. “I could have used that move you taught me.”

“It’s the only one you know!” Bluepaw teased.

“So?” Lionpaw leaped onto the tree stump and lifted his chin. “I would have just used my instinct the rest of the time.”

Bluepaw began to purr, but the rumble stuck in her throat as she saw Thistlepaw rub his shoulder against Snowpaw, entwining his tail around hers.

Adderfang interrupted them, circling his apprentice. “Well fought.”

Thistlepaw curled his lip. “I just wish I could get the foul taste of RiverClan blood out of my mouth.”

Adderfang narrowed his eyes. “You’ll taste more before you’re a warrior,” he promised grimly. “The battle may have been won today, but RiverClan will never allow us to keep Sunningrocks. We will fight again before long.”

Bluepaw stared at him in dismay. Was this another battle that had been fought in vain? Was the life of a warrior nothing more than an endless circle of fighting and vengeance in answer to ancient quarrels?

Chapter 14

Green buds softened the bushes, and for the first time in moons, the forest seemed to glow with the promise of life and warmth. Bluepaw padded beneath the towering pines, their flat needles silky beneath her pads. She breathed deeply, opening her mouth to taste the faint tang of newleaf. It wouldn’t be long before the forest was alive with the song of birds and the rustle of prey, and the lean moons would be just a memory.

“What about here?” Sweetpaw circled a tree, looking into the branches. “I think I can see a nest.”

Sunfall and Smallear followed her gaze.

“Abandoned,” Sunfall sighed.

Suddenly a twitch of movement bobbed in the distance.

“Squirrel!” Bluepaw dashed away stealthily, joy rising in her belly as she raced between the trees.

The squirrel flashed through the forest with its fluffy tail billowing behind. Bluepaw ran as lightly as she could, hoping to catch it before it realized it was being chased. The moment it heard her, it might scoot up a tree, and the pines were too smooth and branchless to climb. She swerved past a bramble, fragrant with new growth, and found that she was slowly gaining. She pressed back the urge to run full-pelt in case the thump of her paws gave her away. Her mouth watered. The squirrel would be a delicious treat for her still-hungry Clanmates.

Another few tail-lengths and she would be close enough to pounce.

She controlled her breathing, measuring each breath so that she would be ready. She could already taste the kill.

Now!

She pushed hard against the ground, surging forward, sprinkling needles in her wake. The squirrel ran harder, trailing fear-scent now. Eyes fixed on its gray back, Bluepaw changed her pace, preparing to leap.

Suddenly the squirrel sprang upward. A wooden fence loomed ahead and the squirrel disappeared over the top. Too late, Bluepaw slowed to a halt, her flank slamming into the fence.

Mouse dung!

Frustration surged through her.

Where am I?

She sniffed the air. This wasn’t ThunderClan territory. Warm, strange smells mixed with the sour tang of Thunderpath. Blinking, she realized she had crossed the border and was beside Twolegplace. She had been close to this area before while on border patrol, but had never strayed near the fence. She turned, her heart sinking. She wouldn’t dare follow the squirrel beyond there. No Clan cat was allowed to hunt outside the territory.

“Hey!”

A voice called down from above her.

Spinning around, Bluepaw saw a fat ginger tom balanced on a branch overhanging the fence. She tensed, her hackles rising, but the tom just gazed at her with round, calm eyes.

“You don’t live around here.” His voice was as soft as his pelt looked. He tipped his head to one side. “Are you one of those forest cats?”

Bluepaw thought for a moment. Should she leave? What would her Clanmates say if she spoke to a kittypet? She began to back away.

“Don’t go!” the tom called. “I want to know what it’s like.”

“What what’s like?” Bluepaw echoed.

“Being a forest cat.” The tom crept along the branch but didn’t climb down. “Who feeds you?”

“We feed ourselves.”

The tom stared blankly.

“We hunt,” Bluepaw explained. Doesn’t he know anything?

“Mice?”

“And voles and squirrels.”

“You just missed a squirrel,” the tom commented. “It came over the fence.”

“I know.” Bluepaw flicked her tail crossly. Had this cat just watched it run past without even trying to catch it? Lazy mouse-brain!

“It sounds like hard work,” the tom observed. “What do you do when it’s cold? Don’t you freeze?”

“Our dens are warm.” Bluepaw wondered why she was bothering to answer such stupid questions.

“Your dens?” The tom narrowed his eyes. “Are they like baskets?”

“Baskets?” What was he talking about?

“Bluepaw!”

Pinestar’s sharp mew made her jump. What was the ThunderClan leader doing there?