Bluestar's Prophecy

Bluefur padded to Rosepaw’s nest and licked the top of her head. “How are you?”

“I’ve felt better,” she croaked.

“Has Poppydawn brought you water yet?”

Rosepaw shook her head. “Featherwhisker said you were sick, too.”

Bluefur nodded. “I’m feeling better now and so will you.” She glanced at Sweetpaw. The tortoiseshell had begun to writhe and groan, her eyes still closed. “You both will,” she promised, hoping it was true.

The fern wall shivered as Poppydawn pushed through. Dripping moss dangled from her jaws. She placed a wad beside Rosepaw and another beside Sweetpaw. Rosepaw lapped gratefully, but Sweetpaw still didn’t budge.

Poppydawn licked Sweetpaw fiercely. “Come on, Sweet,” she encouraged. “Wake up and wet your tongue.”

Sweetpaw struggled to open her eyes. Sniffing at the moss, she lapped at it feebly, then gagged, unable even to keep water down.

“I’ll get Featherwhisker,” Bluefur offered.

Poppydawn shook her head. “He’s sleeping.” She stroked Sweetpaw with her tail as the young cat closed her eyes once more. “I’ll watch over these two.” She glanced at Bluefur. “You should get some fresh air,” she suggested. “Outside the ravine.”

The stench of the sick apprentices’ den was making Bluefur’s uneasy belly churn. “Okay.” She nosed her way through the ferns, relieved to feel clean air on her face. The forest air would be even fresher. She headed out of the camp, glancing at Featherwhisker where he slept in the shadow of Highrock.

The climb up the ravine left her breathless and hot. She was thankful for the cool breeze wafting through the forest, and she wandered among the trees feeling glad to be away from the sickness and worry of camp. Birds called to one another, their song echoing through the trees. Insects buzzed above the lush undergrowth. Leaves brushed Bluefur’s pelt as she padded along familiar tracks with fallen leaves from a long-ago season soft underpaw. The shadows darkening her thoughts began to fade. StarClan would protect them.

A butterfly fluttered a few tail-lengths ahead, buffeted by the breeze. Suddenly the ferns trembled, and a bulky golden shape exploded from the green stalks.

“Got you!” Lionpaw leaped for the butterfly, paws flailing, but the insect jerked upward out of his reach. “Mouse dung.” He dropped onto all four paws and watched the butterfly disappear through the branches. His eyes were sparkling, and he clawed excitedly at the grass, muttering to himself, “I’ll get the next one!” Then he spotted Bluefur. “Hi!” he mewed cheerfully.

Where’s Pinestar? Bluefur tasted the air: no sign of the ThunderClan leader. She narrowed her eyes. He and Lionpaw had left the camp together. “What are you doing?” Had Pinestar sent him hunting? Wouldn’t Swiftbreeze be wondering where her apprentice was?

Lionpaw stared at her, blinking. “Doing?” There was an awkwardness in his mew, as if he was suddenly on the defensive. “Nothing really. I just missed that butterfly.”

“Where’s Pinestar?” she prompted.

Lionpaw opened and closed his mouth. “Pinestar?”

“You know, Pinestar.” Bluefur tried to ease the awkwardness by joking. “Red-brown tom cat? Clan leader? You went out with him this morning.”

“Did I?” Lionpaw shifted his paws. “I mean, you saw us go?”

Bluefur didn’t want Lionpaw to think she’d been spying. “I smelled your scents while I was going to the dirtplace. It just seemed odd that you went out before the dawn patrol.”

Lionpaw’s gaze flitted around the forest, resting on anything but Bluefur. “Well, Pinestar wanted an early start. Training.”

“Oh.” Bluefur wasn’t convinced. Training you to catch butterflies? She resisted the question. “Did it go well?”

“Fine!” Lionpaw circled restlessly. “More than fine. Great. Pinestar’s great. He’s brilliant.”

Bluefur tipped her head on one side. “So where is he now?”

“He’s on his way back. I…he…he said I couldn’t tell any cat what he’d done.” Lionpaw shut his mouth, eyes round with dismay. “I mean, where we were.” He looked at his paws. “Sorry. Secret.” He scampered past Bluefur, and she felt his pelt pricking up as it brushed hers. She let him escape into the trees without trying to stop him.

Then a scent touched her tongue. A familiar scent. She thought for a moment. What was it?

Catmint! Lionpaw’s pelt smelled of catmint.

Had they been to Twolegplace? Was that the “secret”? Her paws prickled. Had they seen Jake? Surely Pinestar wasn’t encouraging the apprentices to mingle with kittypets? She dashed after Lionpaw. She had to know more. Pinestar’s despairing words echoed in her head: The Clans will be enemies forever. Was the ThunderClan leader so disillusioned with Clan life that he’d rather be among kittypets? How could he break the warrior code like that?

Lionpaw was already halfway down the ravine. She scrabbled down the rocks after him.

“Hey!” Stormtail’s yowl sounded below. “Stop throwing rocks!”