Bluestar's Prophecy

Bluefur flattened her ears, surprised by his fierceness. He’d been little more than a kit last time they’d fought RiverClan; now he was ready to claw their ears off. She suspected he was secretly hoping they had crossed the border, which would give ThunderClan a reason to attack. Thistlepaw wasn’t the only cat in ThunderClan who felt uncomfortable losing Sunningrocks without a fight. But still, she believed Pinestar had been right.

“A battle’s not fun,” she warned Lionpaw.

“At least you’ve had the chance to find out!” he complained. “I only ever get to meet the other Clans at Gatherings!”

Did he really prefer fighting to talking? Bluefur narrowed her eyes, then remembered Crookedjaw. At least in battle you knew where you stood and whom you could trust.

She cuffed Lionpaw softly over the ear. “Come on.”

He stopped arching his back and bristling as though he were already fighting, and followed Bluefur as she joined Sunfall, White-eye, and Swiftbreeze at the entrance.

As soon as they reached the new RiverClan border, Bluefur guessed the dawn patrol had been mistaken. Though the markers were fresh, the only RiverClan scents on this side were so weak they could have drifted across on the breeze. And yet the sight of RiverClan warriors lounging on the warm rocks beyond made Bluefur bristle. She may have defended Pinestar’s decision to let them take the rocks, but to see them using what had been ThunderClan territory made her claws itch.

Sunfall growled beside her, and Swiftbreeze plucked at the ground. “Pinestar’s going to have to take them back eventually,” she spat. “They insult us every time they set paw on those rocks.”

“Cowards!” Lionpaw yowled across the border.

Swiftbreeze quickly tugged him back by his tail. “A smart warrior only starts battles he might win!” she hissed.

The RiverClan warriors were staring through the trees. Bluefur recognized Crookedjaw. Was he a friend or an enemy now? Was she supposed to think of him as she did at Gatherings or in battle?

A tawny pelt slid off the rocks onto the shadowy strip of grass below and padded toward the border.

Oakheart.

Trust Crookedjaw’s arrogant littermate to push his luck. He padded slowly along the scent markers, glancing through the trees at the ThunderClan patrol.

Bluefur stepped forward and hissed. Oakheart’s eyes gleamed brighter when he saw her, and she found herself drawn into his gaze.

“RiverClan furball!” she spat.

Were his whiskers twitching? She arched her back. How dare he mock her?

“Bluefur!” Sunfall’s sharp mew sounded behind her, but she couldn’t break her gaze.

Then Oakheart turned and padded slowly up the rocks. Bluefur shivered and jerked away.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Swiftbreeze advised.

Bluefur shook her whiskers, wanting to be rid of Oakheart’s gaze. He was as big-headed as Thistlepaw. She snorted angrily as she followed her Clanmates away through the trees.

Pinestar was back when they reached the camp, sitting beside the nettle patch with Patchpelt. “Sunfall.” He nodded in greeting to his deputy as they reached the clearing. “Is all quiet on the borders?”

“Yes,” Sunfall replied. “Did the prey run well for you?”

Pinestar nodded. “StarClan was good to me.”

He just stopped to hunt on his way home from patrol. Bluefur felt a flicker of relief as she gazed past the ThunderClan leader and saw a plump starling lying on the fresh-kill pile. Pinestar had made a good catch. And more importantly, he hadn’t been in Twolegplace with Jake.

Rosepaw bounced past on Sweetpaw’s heels. “It just sat under the sycamore as if it wanted to be caught,” she mewed happily. “One pounce and I’d caught it—a nice juicy starling. I bet Leopardfoot will enjoy it.”

So the Clan leader hadn’t caught the starling after all. As Bluefur stiffened, the nursery brambles twitched. Featherwhisker slid out, his eyes bright with worry.

“Leopardfoot’s kits are coming!”

“So early?” Swiftbreeze whipped her head around. “They’re not due for half a moon.” Her eyes shimmered with worry for her daughter.

Patchpelt got to his paws and hurried from the nettle patch. “Is she okay?”

Featherwhisker didn’t answer. Instead he called to the kits’ father. “Pinestar! Will you stay with her while I get supplies?”

Pinestar backed away, looking startled.

Has he forgotten Leopardfoot is having his kits?

“I think it’s best if I leave it to you and Goosefeather.” The ThunderClan leader sounded awkward. Was he just being squeamish?

Swiftbreeze snorted and squeezed into the nursery. “I’ll watch her!”

Larksong padded out of the fallen tree with Stonepelt beside her. “New kits!” she rasped, eyes shining.

Featherwhisker hurried toward the medicine den and nearly ran into Goosefeather, who was wandering out of the fern tunnel. “Watch where you’re going!” Featherwhisker snapped. Then he froze. “Sorry!”

But Goosefeather just shambled past his apprentice and stopped at the fresh-kill pile.