Bluestar's Prophecy

When will he take back Sunningrocks? Bluefur pressed her claws into the earth. She wanted to see the look on Oakheart’s arrogant face as they drove those thieving fox-hearts back across the border.

Tails swished and paws kneaded the ground. “Sunstar! Sunstar!” The cheer rose again from the excited Clan.

Sunstar lifted his chin, his pelt gleaming in the moonlight, and let his Clan cheer until the trees seemed to tremble with the noise.

Bluefur longed to be standing in his paw prints. He had lifted his Clan from anxiety to hope. Imagine being up there, looking down at his Clanmates—the power he must feel. Her mouth felt dry with sudden, raw hunger.

Beside her, Thistleclaw leaned closer to Snowfur and whispered in her ear. Pricking her ears, Bluefur strained to hear.

“I’m going to be up there one day,” hissed the young warrior, “addressing the Clan.”

As Snowfur purred encouragingly, Bluefur felt the fur lift along her spine. Not if I get there first!

“Thrushpelt!” Tawnyspots was organizing the patrols. Dawn had not yet broken, and the camp glowed in the half-light. “Take Speckletail, Fuzzypelt, White-eye, and Bluefur to patrol the RiverClan border. Stormtail, Robinwing, and Thistleclaw, patrol ShadowClan’s boundary.”

Stormtail nodded and led his patrol toward the gorse barrier.

Thrushpelt leaned toward Bluefur, his whiskers twitching. “I hope Snowfur can manage without Thistleclaw for a few heartbeats,” he mewed.

Bluefur flicked him away with her tail. Was the whole Clan gossiping about Snowfur and Thistleclaw? Why did her sister have to be so obvious? Prickling with embarrassment, she headed for the ravine.

“Sorry.” Thrushpelt caught up to her. “I thought you’d find it funny.”

“Well, I don’t,” Bluefur snapped.

Tail down, Thrushpelt led the patrol to the RiverClan border. Bluefur started to feel guilty for snapping at him. The sandy-gray warrior had just been teasing. But the sooner he learned he couldn’t tease her about her sister, the better!

“No scents.” Thrushpelt stood at the border, tasting the air. “We’ll re-mark the border and head back.”

A few battered brambles and scuffed flecks of blood were all that betrayed the battle that had taken place there not long ago.

“Do you think they’ll try it again?” Speckletail ventured.

Thrushpelt shook his head. “I think they learned their lesson, the mangy furballs. And once Sunstar takes back Sunningrocks, the border will be easier to patrol.”

“Do you think he will?” Bluefur asked.

“I hope so,” Thrushpelt replied. “Or we’ll never regain the respect of the Clans.”

Bluefur only half heard him. She was gazing through the trees at the smooth rocks, pink in the dawn light. They were bare—no sign of RiverClan warriors, even in the shadows. Bluefur searched the far bank. No cats there, either. What had she expected? To see Crookedjaw or Oakheart skulking through the bushes, planning the next attack?

Had the two warriors been disappointed about missing the battle? She could imagine Oakheart, as arrogant as Thistleclaw, boasting to his Clanmates that RiverClan would have won if he’d been fighting.

“Bluefur?” Thrushpelt’s mew startled her out of her thoughts. “Are you coming?”

The rest of the patrol was already heading away through the trees. Thrushpelt had stopped and was looking back at her.

“Yes!” Bluefur hurried after them.

Her belly was rumbling by the time they reached the camp. The fresh-kill pile was still stocked from yesterday’s hunting, and she was looking forward to a juicy vole.

“Bluefur!” Snowfur called to her. The white warrior was hurrying across the clearing toward her, the morning sun dazzling off her freshly groomed pelt.

Bluefur sighed. “Is it urgent? I was just going to eat.”

“Come hunting with me,” Snowfur begged. “If you’ve already been on patrol, you can eat while we’re out.” Her eyes were round and hopeful, and Bluefur couldn’t refuse, despite her growling belly. At least forest prey will be warm. And if she didn’t go with Snowfur, Thistleclaw probably would.

She followed her sister out of the camp, and by the time they’d reached the top of the ravine, she was looking forward to hunting. Leaves swished in the warm breeze, and the forest rustled with prey. Bluefur could barely remember the last time she’d been cold. She tried to imagine leaf-bare—shivering in snow, billowing clouds of breath—but it seemed too far away. Right now, it felt as though greenleaf would never end.

“Where should we hunt?” she asked Snowfur.

Snowfur shrugged.

“I thought you wanted to hunt.”

“I guess.”

Bluefur snorted. Her sister was dreamier than ever. She pushed on into the forest, determined to bring Snowfur back to the real world. “Are you happy that Sunstar is our leader now?”

“Of course,” Snowfur answered.