Bluestar's Prophecy

By the time dawn began to pale the sky, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Her body was stiff from sitting so long. The lichen at the entrance to Pinestar’s den twitched, and the ThunderClan leader padded out. He glanced at the sky, washed pink by pale sunshine.

“Get some sleep,” he meowed softly as he passed Bluefur and Snowfur.

Relieved, Bluefur stretched.

Snowfur yawned. “Where’s he off to so early?” she wondered as Pinestar slipped out the camp tunnel.

“It’s newleaf,” Bluefur replied. “I guess even leaders enjoy a little dawn hunting once the prey starts to run.”

Out of habit, she turned her paws toward the apprentices’ den. Teeth nipped her tail gently.

“Hey, mouse-brain!” Snowfur purred. “We sleep here now.” She jerked her head toward the warriors’ den.

Of course! Would nests be waiting for them? Suddenly nervous, Bluefur followed Snowfur under the low branch at the entrance and padded into the den. She blinked to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. The low roof made the den seem small, though it was broader than the apprentices’ den. Nests circled the central trunk and spiraled out to the edge. Sunfall, Stormtail, and Adderfang were curled in moss-lined scoops at the center, while Patchpelt and Thrushpelt slept farther out.

Bluefur guessed that, as the newest warriors, their nests would be near the outer branches. But where? “Can you see any spaces?” she breathed in Snowfur’s ear.

“Over here!” Patchpelt raised his head and hissed across the den.

Carefully Bluefur picked her way around the sleeping warriors, her heart in her throat in case she stepped on a tail or a paw or rustled bracken and woke someone.

“You can have Leopardfoot’s and White-eye’s.” Patchpelt nodded toward the two empty nests beside his.

The bracken was as flat as a Thunderpath rabbit, and the moss smelled damp and stale when Bluefur leaned down to sniff it. But she didn’t care. Right now she was so tired and cold that she’d be happy to sleep anywhere. “Sleep well, Snowfur.” She relished using her sister’s warrior name. They could be friends again now that they had left the apprentices’ den—and Thistlepaw—behind them. They’d hunt together, patrol the borders to check for scent marks and invaders, and never, ever be closer to another cat.

Snowfur touched her nose with her muzzle. “You too, Bluefur.”

Happily Bluefur circled down into Leopardfoot’s nest and, purring, drifted into sleep.

The other warriors were gone by the time Bluefur woke up. Snowfur was still sleeping, her breath stirring a tendril of grass that poked up through the bracken.

Bluefur nudged her with a paw. “Wake up!”

Snowfur sat up, her eyes bleary. “What?”

Bright sunshine filtered through the dark needles above them.

“It must be nearly sunhigh,” Bluefur observed.

“Are we supposed to be on patrol?” Snowfur wondered.

Bluefur shrugged. “No one told us.”

Snowfur started lapping at her chest. “I’m going to look my best for my first day as warrior.”

“Me too.”

Bluefur’s tongue ached by the time she’d finished washing. She sat up proudly, knowing that her fur was smooth and clean and her tail fluffed up. A scrap of moss was clinging to Snowfur’s shoulder. “You missed a bit.” Bluefur leaned forward, nipped it out with her teeth, and spat it away. “Perfect.”

Snowfur’s pelt looked as soft and white as a fawn’s belly.

Bluefur led the way out of the den. The clearing was bright with sunshine. Blue sky stretched over the camp, and a warm breeze was swishing the bright green leaves in the trees above.

“About time, too!” Sunfall’s sharp mew sounded across the clearing. He was frowning beside the nettle patch.

Dismayed, Bluefur glanced at Snowfur. “Are you sure no one mentioned a patrol?” she whispered.

Sunfall waited, tail flicking, as they padded toward him. “I don’t mind that you missed the dawn patrol,” he meowed. “But the hunting patrol had to leave without you, which means they’re short of paws and there’ll be less on the fresh-kill pile come sunset.”

“But no one told us!” Bluefur cried. Why was he lecturing her like she was still an apprentice? The fur ruffled on her spine.

“You’re warriors now,” Sunfall told her. “You shouldn’t need to be dug out of your nests to serve your Clan!”

Bluefur stared at her paws, too ashamed even to glance at Snowfur. “Sorry.”

“There’s something else you can do.”

Bluefur was relieved to hear Sunfall’s voice soften. She looked up. “What?”

“Featherwhisker wants to gather catmint from Twolegplace.”

Leaf gathering! Bluefur’s heart sank. This was going to be as disappointing as her first day as an apprentice.

“He needs a warrior escort,” Sunfall went on.

Bluefur pricked her ears. This was more like it.

“There’s been more kittypet scent than usual around the border,” the ThunderClan deputy explained. “I don’t want him to go alone.”