Bluestar's Prophecy

Muttering, the Clans fell into a prickly silence.

The WindClan leader lifted her muzzle. “Kittypets rarely reach our borders.”

Talltail called from below, “They’re too slow to chase rabbits anyway.”

“And squirrels,” Smallear added.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the Clans, but pelts were still ruffled. Bluefur’s paws pricked with frustration. Why had Pinestar stirred up trouble?

Hailstar stepped to the front of the Great Rock again. “Enough of kittypets,” he yowled. “RiverClan has a new warrior.” He nodded to his Clan. “Crookedjaw!”

As the Clans muttered halfhearted cheers for the new warrior, Bluefur tensed. Was she going to get the same reception as Leopardfoot and Patchpelt had? She closed her eyes as Pinestar announced her name along with Snowfur’s, relieved when the Clans grunted their approval, even if it was less of a welcome than they had given Crookedjaw.

As the Gathering broke up in a frosty silence, Snowfur brushed against her.

“Why did Pinestar try to upset the other Clans?” Bluefur whispered.

“He was only warning them off.”

“But why accuse them instead of the kittypets?”

Snowfur shrugged. “The kittypets aren’t here.”

That wasn’t good enough. There’d been no evidence of other Clans crossing the border. But the kittypets had been coming and going as though they owned the territory. Why didn’t Pinestar want to admit that kittypets were stinking up the border with their scent markers and scaring away prey that was needed to fatten the Clan after a long leaf-bare?

The morning brought warmth to the camp. Bluefur yawned, tired after her late night. Snowfur had already left on the dawn patrol with Adderfang and Thistlepaw. The newleaf sun shone on the clearing as Bluefur gathered below Highrock to hear Sunfall name the patrols. She flicked her tail happily when he called her name to hunt with Thrushpelt, Tawnyspots, and Rosepaw.

“Bluefur?” Leopardfoot was padding from Pinestar’s den, the lichen still swishing behind her. “Pinestar wants to speak with you.”

“Why?” Had she done something wrong? Perhaps he’d seen her watching him with Jake. Or maybe some cat had overheard her ask Snowfur why Pinestar had challenged the Clans and not the kittypets.

Leopardfoot shrugged and headed for the nursery, her paw steps heavy beneath the weight of her belly. Bluefur padded reluctantly to Pinestar’s den.

The Clan leader was blinking in the gloom as she nosed her way in. “Bluefur,” he greeted her solemnly.

Bluefur stared nervously at him, shifting her paws.

“I’ve overlooked part of your training,” he meowed.

“What?”

“You haven’t seen the Moonstone.”

The Moonstone! The sacred stone where leaders received their nine lives and where the medicine cats shared dreams with StarClan! Excitement pushed all worries from Bluefur’s mind.

“All young cats should go there to receive StarClan’s blessing,” Pinestar went on. “I would have taken you before, but the battle with WindClan and the heavy snows have made the journey too hard. Now I want to share dreams with StarClan, and you might as well come with me.”

“Will Snowfur come, too?”

“WindClan may not trust three warriors crossing their land,” Pinestar meowed. “I’ll take her next time.”

Bluefur knew that they had to cross the moorland to reach Mothermouth, the cave that held the Moonstone. Surely WindClan would know they were just passing through their territory? She sighed. Perhaps memories of the attack on the WindClan camp were still too raw.

The ThunderClan leader closed his eyes. “Go to Goosefeather for traveling herbs,” he murmured.

Traveling herbs? Bluefur wondered if they’d taste as bad as the herbs that Goosefeather had given the cats before the attack on WindClan. “Should I bring you some?”

Pinestar shook his head. “I must not eat before sharing with StarClan.”

Lucky you! She turned and pushed through the lichen.

Goosefeather was already waiting outside the fern tunnel. Bluefur tensed. He hadn’t said anything about the prophecy since the day the fox came, two moons ago. Would he mention it now?

But he just blinked and pushed the herbs toward her. “Pinestar says he’s taking you to the Moonstone.”

Bluefur nodded. Was that curiosity flashing in his eyes?

“Eat these.” He turned and padded away. Had he mentioned something to Pinestar about the prophecy? Is that why the ThunderClan leader was taking her and not Snowfur? Did he know she was special?

“Hurry up!” Pinestar called across the clearing. “I want to be there by moonhigh.”

Bluefur quickly lapped up the pile of green leaves, gagging against the bitterness, and raced after her leader.

They followed the route to Fourtrees, retracing their steps to last night’s Gathering. Bluefur could smell lingering Clan scents as they padded past the Great Rock. It looked strange in daylight—dull and lifeless without the moon’s glow.