Bluestar's Prophecy

“You’re wet!” Rosetail glanced at the sky, puzzled. “It hasn’t been raining, has it?”

Bluefur glanced at her paws. “It was…er…I slipped and fell…the bank was…” How could she possibly say that a RiverClan warrior had thrown her in the river?

Rosetail’s whisker’s twitched. “Not looking where you were going?”

“It was slippery!”

Rosetail’s eyes flashed with curiosity. “You look different.”

Bluefur shifted her paws. “How?”

“You look moony. Like Snowfur when she’s talking about Thistleclaw.”

“Don’t be silly!”

“Who is it?” Rosetail’s ears were twitching.

“No one!”

“Thrushpelt?” Rosetail pressed.

What? Bluefur bristled. Why would she moon over Thrushpelt? “Of course not!” she replied hotly.

Rosetail tipped her head to one side. “Too bad,” she mewed. “He spends enough time mooning over you.”

“Me?” The thought shocked Bluefur. Thrushpelt was just a denmate, and she wasn’t going to end up like Snowfur: stuck in the nursery with a bunch of mewling kits clambering over her. She was going to be the best warrior ThunderClan had ever seen. Better than Thistleclaw. Good enough to be leader one day.

Rosetail rolled her eyes. “Hadn’t you noticed him watching you?”

“No!” Bluefur snapped with such ferocity that Rosetail took a step back.

“Okay.” The red-tailed warrior changed the subject. “I’m just off to get some fresh moss for Snowfur and Whitekit.”

At the mention of her kin, Bluefur softened, her damp pelt smoothing. “How is Whitekit?”

“He’s been chasing Snowfur’s tail all morning. She’s ready to box his ears, but she won’t. He does it so sweetly.”

“I can imagine.” Bluefur pictured Whitekit’s round, blue eyes gazing innocently up while he batted his mother’s fluffy tail.

“I just hope Tigerkit isn’t a bad influence,” Rosetail fretted. “When I left, he was trying to persuade Whitekit to flick burrs into Frostkit’s pelt while she was sleeping.”

“Didn’t Leopardfoot stop them?”

“You know Leopardfoot.” Rosetail sighed. “She thinks Tigerkit can do no wrong.”

“I’ll go visit the nursery,” Bluefur offered.

“Snowfur would appreciate it,” Rosetail meowed. “I think she’s got den fever. She’s almost shredded her nest. She needs some fresh air.”

As Rosetail padded into the trees, Bluefur noticed a tuft of dog hair caught in the grass. There was barely any scent clinging to it—it must have been blown there, rather than left by a passing dog—but it might keep Whitekit busy for a while. She plucked it up with her claws and carried it down to the nursery.

Snowfur was looking hot and harassed when Bluefur squeezed into the bramble den. Frostkit and Brindlekit were tumbling over Robinwing, their tails flicking in Snowfur’s face at every turn. Whitekit was fast asleep, splayed on Snowfur’s flank so that she couldn’t move. Tigerkit was nagging his mother.

“Why can’t I go out?”

“You’ve just come in.”

“But it’s a sunny day.”

“You need a nap.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You will be later.”

“I’ll sleep then.”

“But you’ll be grumpy all afternoon if you don’t nap now.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

Snowfur rolled her eyes at Bluefur.

“Here.” Bluefur dropped the tuft at the edge of her sister’s nest. Rosetail was right. The bracken was in shreds. “Whitekit can play with it when he wakes up.”

Snowfur groaned, trying to adjust her position without disturbing her kit.

“What’s that?” Tigerkit was already leaping for the dog fur.

“It’s for White—”

Tigerkit hooked it up before Bluefur could finish her sentence and started chasing it around the nursery. “Look!” he squealed. “I’m Thistleclaw, attacking that mangy dog!”

“Keep your voice down,” Snowfur pleaded.

Tigerkit paused, his claws pinning the dog fur to the den floor. “I hate the nursery,” he complained. “It’s too full of kits. I’m never allowed to play anymore. I should be in the apprentices’ den with Lionpaw. I bet he doesn’t have to take afternoon naps.”

Bluefur purred, “Maybe not, but he wishes he could.”

Whitekit lifted his head sleepily. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve woken him up!” Snowfur puffed.

“Good,” Tigerkit mewed. “Now he can play, too.”

Whitekit looked around. “Play what?”

“My new game; it’s called Kill the Dog,” Tigerkit told him. He flung the tuft of fur over Whitekit’s head. Whitekit scrabbled up to catch it, making Snowfur grunt as the kit’s hind claws dug into her pelt.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Bluefur suggested.

Snowfur blinked.

“Whitekit’s happy playing with Tigerkit,” Bluefur reasoned. “I’m sure he could spare you for a while.” She looked at the snowy kit bundling around the nests after Tigerkit. “You’ll be okay if Snowfur comes for a walk with me, won’t you?”

Whitekit didn’t even glance at her. “Of course.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Robinwing promised.

Snowfur’s eyes brightened. “Well, I suppose I could go out for a while.”

“It’ll do you good,” Bluefur promised.

“Are you sure he’ll be okay?” Snowfur fretted.

“He’ll be fine,” Robinwing told her. “Now, go on. I’m sick of listening to you sigh.”

“I don’t sigh!” Snowfur objected.

Leopardfoot flicked her tail. “You’ve been snorting like a badger all morning!”