Bluestar's Prophecy

Let it slow them down! she prayed, unsheathing her claws. She tried to peer through the leaves. How many RiverClan warriors were there? Were they heading for the camp? She scowled at the RiverClan stench. “They’re leaving markers!” she growled to Sunfall. “On our territory!”

“They don’t know which way to head,” Swiftbreeze observed.

The RiverClan patrol was struggling through the brambles, heading away from the ravine.

“What’s their plan?” Rosepaw asked.

Sunfall paused, considering the situation. “There aren’t enough of them to attack the camp—and if that’s their aim, they’re going the wrong way, thank StarClan. My guess is that they’re looking for a patrol to attack.”

“But why?” Bluefur struggled to understand what RiverClan could possibly gain by sending so few warriors, and so unprepared, into rival territory.

“They want to prove that this part of the forest is theirs.”

“Never!” Bluefur fought the urge to race out of the bushes and hurl herself at the RiverClan patrol. She knew it would be reckless and pointless. What could she alone do against a whole patrol? But she was supposed to be fire, blazing through the forest! Perhaps she should attack like Thistleclaw had attacked that dog. She closed her eyes and ran through the battle moves Sunfall had taught her.

Sunfall must have sensed her paws shifting restlessly. “We’ll attack as soon as the other patrol gets here,” he promised.

Ferns rustled behind them, and Thrushpelt pushed his way through. “We’ve seen the RiverClan patrol,” he reported, “but they didn’t see us. They’re too busy fighting thorns.”

Sunfall chuckled. “I get the feeling they’re not too comfortable on ThunderClan territory.”

“We should force them to fight where the undergrowth is thickest,” Thrushpelt suggested.

“Won’t that make it harder to attack?” Swiftbreeze questioned.

“Hard for us, but even harder for them,” Sunfall answered. “They’re not used to brambles, and we are.” He glanced at Thrushpelt. “Who did you bring?”

“Stormtail, Thistleclaw, Fuzzypelt, Snowfur, Windflight, and Patchpelt,” Thrushpelt reported. “There’s another patrol waiting at the top of the ravine, in case RiverClan breaks through our line. We didn’t know how many warriors RiverClan had brought.”

Sunfall narrowed his eyes. “We have enough to drive them off.”

Thistleclaw shouldered his way to the front. “We should do more than drive them off,” he growled. “We should give them a battle they won’t forget in a hurry.”

“Once they know we can drive them away, they’ll think twice about invading again,” Sunfall pointed out. He swung his head around to Stormtail. “We’ll split into three patrols. You head one and meet them on the rise up there.” He signaled toward a slope where the RiverClan cats seemed to be heading. “Take Patchpelt and Swiftbreeze. You attack first. We’ll come in from the sides as you drive them back. Windflight?”

The gray tabby warrior lifted his chin. “Yes?”

“Stay here with Fuzzypelt, Thrushpelt, and Thistleclaw. Attack when you hear Stormtail’s signal.” He went on. “I’ll take Bluefur, Snowfur, Rosepaw, and Tawnyspots and attack their other flank. We’ll leave the path to the border clear so they can retreat.”

“We should shred them where they fall, not let them escape,” Thistleclaw hissed.

Sunfall glared at him. “Warriors do not need to shed blood to win battles.”

He slid through the ferns, and Bluefur followed with Snowfur at her heels. Sunfall led them toward the ravine and doubled back, using another route, until they could see the RiverClan warriors fighting their way out of the brambles.

Bluefur heard one of the warriors hissing, “What do we want such stupid territory for?”

“More prey for RiverClan, less for ThunderClan.” That was Shellheart, the RiverClan deputy. “Now stop fussing and keep moving.”

Bluefur peered over the low bushes. The wind was with them, blowing RiverClan’s scent over Stormtail’s patrol as it waited to ambush. As RiverClan headed up the slope, Bluefur saw the ferns quiver where Windflight’s patrol crouched, ready for Stormtail’s signal.

The RiverClan patrol looked strong and fit. Bluefur bared her teeth. We’ll just have to fight harder, then. They’d escaped the brambles, though their fur was matted with thorns. Creeping up the rise, ears flat, tails down, they halted at a flick of Shellheart’s tail. Her hackles were up.

“I smell ThunderClan,” she warned.

Timberfur, a brown RiverClan warrior, tasted the air. “Fresh scent.” The warriors behind looked warily over their shoulder. “Perhaps—”

Timberfur didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

Stormtail launched himself at Shellheart, yowling the signal. Swiftbreeze and Patchpelt hurtled after. Timberfur reared up, Shellheart ducked, and the other warriors spun around, their eyes wide, as Windflight’s patrol exploded from the ferns to one side.

“Attack!” Sunfall screeched, pelting forward.