Bluestar's Prophecy

Mumblefoot and Larksong had come out of the elders’ den. Featherwhisker was padding toward them with a ball of moss dangling from his jaws. Bluekit guessed there was something stinky in it, because he was wrinkling his nose as though he were carrying fox dung. Beside the nettle patch, a large tom with a pelt as fiery as the sun was sharing prey with three warriors.

“Is that Sunfall?” Bluekit asked.

“Yes.” Moonflower had begun grooming Snowkit. “And that’s Robinwing, Tawnyspots, and Fuzzypelt with him,” she meowed between licks. “Oh, and Thrushpelt has just come out of the warriors’ den.”

Snowkit fidgeted beneath her mother’s tongue, complaining to Bluekit, “Did she wash you this hard?” But Bluekit hardly heard; she was too busy gazing at the warriors. She wanted to memorize Robinwing’s brown pelt, so she could always pick her out from the others in a battle. Tawnyspots would be harder to make out, she decided, because of his pale gray tabby fur. But his ears had tufts on the tips—she’d remember that. Fuzzypelt would be easy to recognize anywhere; his black fur stuck out like a hedgehog’s bristles. Thrushpelt was sandy gray, like the pebbles she and Snowkit played with in the nursery. He had bright green eyes and a splash of white on his chest that looked like a fluffy cloud. He was much smaller than the others.

“Didn’t Thrushpelt grow properly?” Bluekit mewed to her mother.

Moonflower purred. “No, little one—he’s just the youngest warrior. He received his name only a quarter moon ago. He’ll grow—you’ll see.”

The gorse barrier swished and Bluekit glanced around. Was it Stormtail? Disappointment hit her when Stonepelt padded into the camp with a bird in his jaws. She shuffled her paws, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. She wasn’t sure if he’d forgiven her for crashing into the warriors’ den.

“That was a sneaky move!” Dapplepaw yowled on the other side of the clearing. She rolled away from Whitepaw and leaped to her paws. The two she-cats were practicing battle moves beside the tree stump.

Whitepaw shook out her fur. “Not sneaky! Pure skill!” She stared at her denmate crossly, her cloudy eye glinting in the sunshine. Bluekit knew she couldn’t see out of that eye, but she could hear so well that it was impossible to creep up on her. Bluekit and Snowkit had tried several times.

“Lucky hit!” Dapplepaw retorted. “Patchkit could do better!”

Where was Patchkit?

Bluekit scanned the clearing. There! Leopardkit and Patchkit were crouching outside the warriors’ den, glancing at each other as if they were planning something. What were they up to?

“I’m clean enough!”

Bluekit’s attention snapped back to her sister as Snowkit ducked away from their mother’s tongue.

Moonflower sat back. “You look lovely.”

Snowkit snorted and ruffled the wet fur around her ears with her paw. Bluekit puffed out her chest and lined her paws smartly in front of her. Please let Stormtail be proud of me! Moonflower had told them over and over what a great warrior their father was, how he was brave and good at fighting and one of the best hunters in ThunderClan. I hope I grow up to be like him.

“Why couldn’t Stormtail come to the nursery to see us?” Snowkit whined. “Adderfang’s always coming to the nursery to see Patchkit and Leopardkit. He brought them a mouse last time.”

“Your father came to see you as soon as you were born.” Moonflower hooked her paw around Snowkit’s waving tail and wrapped it neatly over her paws. “He’s a very important warrior. He doesn’t have time to bring you treats.” She stepped back and looked her kits over once more. “Besides, you’re not big enough to eat mice yet.”

Bluekit scrunched up her eyes as she glanced at the sun. It was almost directly overhead. Stormtail would be there soon. She twisted to see the gorse barrier. She knew the warrior patrol would come through the gap in the middle. Patchkit had been telling her about Clan life—about hunting patrols and border patrols. He had explained how a warrior hunts first for the Clan and only then for himself.

Bluekit was determined that she would always make sure her Clan was well fed, even if she had to starve to do it.

Moonflower stiffened, her nose twitching. “He’s here!”

“Where?” Snowkit leaped up and spun around, spraying dust over Bluekit’s pelt.

“Sit down!” Moonflower ordered.

As Snowkit quickly sat down and wrapped her tail back over her paws, Bluekit saw the gorse barrier tremble. A dark brown tabby padded through the entrance with a thrush in his jaws, followed by a pale tabby she-cat.

“Who’s that?” Bluekit was impressed by the two voles swinging from the tabby’s jaws.

“The tom is Sparrowpelt, and the she-cat is Speckletail.” Moonflower pricked her ears. “There he is!”

A large gray tom followed Speckletail into camp. His shoulders brushed the gorse, making the spikes quiver. He held his broad head high and his chin up, and his blue eyes shone like stars. In his jaws was the largest squirrel Bluekit had seen yet.