Bluestar's Prophecy

She spun around to see him stalking toward her. “I—I…” Hot with embarrassment, she tried to think of a good explanation for being there. She decided the truth would be simplest. “I was chasing a squirrel,” she confessed. “I didn’t realize I’d crossed the border.”

Pinestar glared at her. “So why are you talking to a kittypet?” He flashed a warning glance at the tom. Was Pinestar going to attack? The tom gazed calmly back.

He’s too dumb even to run away!

“Come on!” Pinestar’s mew was harsh.

Why was he so angry? She was only there by accident.

“He started talking to me,” she defended herself.

Pinestar hissed as claws scrabbled against wood and a second kittypet leaped from the fence to the tree branch and crouched beside the tom. This was a gray she-cat, even softer and plumper than the tom.

Pinestar turned and shouldered his way past a bramble, beckoning Bluepaw with a sharp flick of his tail. She followed, glancing back at the cats.

“My name’s Jake!” the tom called as she padded away. “Next time you can see my nest.”

No way! Bluepaw shivered. She would never set paw in a kittypet nest!

She hurried after Pinestar, wondering why he was still bristling. “Are kittypets dangerous?” she asked.

“Dangerous?” He turned on her. “Don’t be a mouse-brain! We could have shredded that one!”

“Why didn’t we?” she wondered.

“He didn’t cross the border.” Pinestar padded on, the fur rippling along his spine.

Bluepaw glanced back again, confused. Did kittypets ever cross the border? Why choose to stay in Twolegplace instead of living free in the forest? She wanted to ask Pinestar, but he was staring ahead, his gaze furious.

“Don’t go there again,” Pinestar growled. “You’re a Clan cat, not a kittypet!”

As they crossed back into ThunderClan territory, Bluepaw recognized Sunfall’s pelt flashing orange among the trees.

“There you are!” The deputy hurried to meet them, looking relieved. Smallear and Sweetpaw were following, each carrying a fledgling. “We thought you’d gotten lost in Twolegplace,” he meowed.

Bluepaw lashed her tail. “I’d never go there! I just got caught up in chasing that squirrel.” Did he think she was a mouse-brain like those kittypets?

Bluepaw was acutely aware of the hopeful faces that watched the hunting patrol pad back into camp. Smallear and Sweetpaw had their tiny fledglings and Sunfall had caught a scrawny mouse near the top of the ravine. But she had caught nothing, and her ears twitched with guilt.

“You’ll have to go out again at dawn,” Sunfall told her.

She looked at her paws, ashamed. “I nearly caught a squirrel.”

“Nearly doesn’t feed the Clan,” Sunfall reminded her.

She had disappointed him. She just hoped Pinestar wouldn’t tell him she’d been talking to a kittypet instead of hunting. She glanced at the ThunderClan leader. He had padded to his den, and now his tail was disappearing through the lichen covering. He’d hardly said a word on the trek back.

Speckletail stared at the meager pile of prey. “I’m just glad there are no kits to feed.” She glanced anxiously across the clearing to where Lionpaw and Goldenpaw were practicing battle moves, their pelts following the line of every bone. “But our apprentices still need to grow.”

“I’ll catch something tomorrow,” Bluepaw promised. Even though newleaf was tantalizingly near, it would take a moon to fatten the Clan when prey started to run again. The only fat cat in ThunderClan now was Leopardfoot, whose belly seemed to swell while the other cats grew thinner. Bluepaw watched the mottled warrior, dozing beside the nettle patch in the weak leaf-bare sunshine. Was she secretly eating prey while she hunted? How come she was so plump when every other cat was hollow with hunger?

The gorse barrier shivered as Thistlepaw padded in with Adderfang. The spike-furred apprentice looked even more smug than usual. Bluepaw scowled. He was holding a shrew in his jaws. He carried it to the fresh-kill pile and dropped it, flicking his tail with a flourish.

Big deal! Bluepaw wanted to tell him that a bitter shrew wouldn’t fill his Clanmates’ bellies; it would only wrinkle their tongues.

Snowpaw nosed her way out of the apprentices’ den. She must have heard Thistlepaw return. But to Bluepaw’s surprise, Snowpaw ignored him. “Catch anything?” She was heading for Bluepaw.

Bluepaw shook her head. “Sunfall says I have to go out again at dawn.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Bluepaw blinked. Snowpaw hadn’t hunted with her in a moon. “You don’t have to,” she mewed. She didn’t want her sister’s pity.

“I want to,” Snowpaw replied. “We haven’t been out together for ages.”

Bluepaw’s claws pricked with suspicion. “Are you fighting with Thistlepaw?”

“No.” Snowpaw sat down, her ears pricked as though surprised. “I can be friends with both of you, you know!”

Bluepaw shrugged, unconvinced. As long as Snowpaw didn’t expect her to be friends with Thistlepaw, that was just fine.