Bluestar's Prophecy

Relieved, Bluefur sat back and watched Whitekit suckle, amazed that he knew what to do already. Welcome to ThunderClan, little one. May StarClan light your path, always.

“Look!” Snowfur’s soft mew woke Bluefur the next morning. “He’s opened his eyes already!”

“Great!” Tigerkit’s head shot up over the edge of Leopardfoot’s nest. “Can I take him out to explore?”

Snowfur looked as if Tigerkit had suggested taking her son out to play in a fox burrow. Shaking her head, she wrapped her tail protectively around Whitekit.

“You made me go out the moment I opened my eyes,” Bluefur reminded her.

Whitekit gazed around the den, his blue eyes misty but his tufty ears pricked. His stubby paws kneaded the bedding, and his tail stuck straight out like a twig.

Snowfur sighed. “If he wants to go out, then he can.” She wrapped her tail tighter and glared at Tigerkit. “But no farther than the clearing.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Bluefur promised. “You just rest.”

Snowfur still looked exhausted, hardly able to do more than lap at the moss Thistleclaw kept bringing. “Thank you,” she breathed.

Tigerkit was already out of his nest and balancing on the edge of Snowfur’s. “Come on!” he called to Whitekit. “There’s loads to see.”

Whitekit turned slowly and focused on his little tabby denmate.

“We’re going to be warriors,” Tigerkit told him. “We might as well start now.”

Whitekit blinked away the fuzziness in his gaze. “Okay,” he mewed. He scrambled up the side of the nest and teetered beside Tigerkit.

“This way.” Tigerkit led him to the entrance. Whitekit followed on unsteady legs.

“Don’t take your eyes off him for an instant,” Snowfur called as Bluefur followed the two kits from the den.

“I won’t,” Bluefur replied over her shoulder.

Whitekit looked even smaller outside the nursery. The clearing that stretched away ahead of him might as well have been the valley to Highstones. Bluefur felt the sharp memory of her first time out, how big everything seemed, especially the warriors.

Stonepelt limped past. “Is that our new warrior?” he meowed.

Bluefur nodded.

A purr rumbled in Stonepelt’s throat. “Well, show him the warriors’ den and tell him to stay out. He’ll get there soon enough.” Amusement lit his eyes. Was he recalling the time she’d wandered into his den?

She nodded, whiskers twitching. “I will.” She didn’t want Whitekit to grow up for a long time yet. Let him play peacefully and chase nothingfiercer than a ball of moss for as many moons as he can.

A half-moon later, Frostkit and Brindlekit were born. Robinwing sat up proudly in her nest when Bluefur came in to visit them. They weren’t her first kits, and they had been born as easily as a beechnut slipping out of its shell.

“The nursery hasn’t been this full since we were kits,” Snowfur observed.

“It’s too busy,” Tigerkit complained. “There’s no room for proper games now.”

“Why don’t you go out and play?” Leopardfoot suggested. “You could show Frostkit and Brindlekit the camp.”

Robinwing’s kits started to bounce with excitement at the prospect of seeing their new home.

“Yes, please!”

“I’ll help!” Whitekit squeaked, trying to beat Tigerkit to the entrance.

Snowfur’s son had grown well, but he was still no match for his older denmate, in either breadth of shoulder or stubbornness. Tigerkit pushed easily ahead of him and led all three kits out of the nursery.

Robinwing sighed. “Will they be okay? I don’t want them to pester the older cats.”

“Do you want me to watch them?” Bluefur asked.

“That would be great, thanks.” Robinwing settled down in her nest.

Leopardfoot stood up, stretching each leg in turn. “I’ll come, too, and get prey from the pile.” The black queen was finally looking fit and strong again. She padded from her nest and followed Bluefur out of the nursery.

The four kits were already hurtling across the clearing.

“Not so fast!” Bluefur called. “Don’t forget, it’s Frostkit’s and Brindlekit’s first time out.”

“Kits always grow faster when they’ve got denmates to keep up with,” Leopardfoot commented as the kits disappeared into the fern tunnel that led to the medicine cats’ den.

“I’d better see what they’re getting up to,” Bluefur meowed. She didn’t want them getting into Goosefeather’s supplies. Leaving Leopardfoot to take her pick from the fresh-kill pile, she hurried across the clearing to the medicine den.