Bluestar's Prophecy

Chapter 37

A soft tail-tip stroked Bluefur’s cheek.

“Time to wake up.” Oakheart’s whisper stirred her ear fur.

Bluefur blinked open her eyes and stretched, the leaves of their nest rustling beneath her. It was still dark in the hollow, but above the trees the sky was turning milky with predawn light. She sat up, heart racing. She had to get home.

Oakheart was looking at her, his eyes glowing like the Moonstone. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“But we must.” She pressed her muzzle to his.

They padded to the edge of the clearing and paused, twining tails. Their time together was over.

“I’ll look out for you on the riverbank,” Oakheart promised.

Bluefur pressed against him. “I’ll look out for you, too.” Her voice came out as a whisper. She knew the river would always divide them.

“I might even climb a few trees to keep in practice,” he joked.

“Yes.” She felt weary with sadness. Why was he so cheerful? Didn’t he realize they would never be together like this again? She gazed into his eyes and knew that he did. Behind the brightness she recognized grief, raw as her own.

“Good-bye,” she whispered, and headed up the slope. She glanced back again and again until the pain of seeing him standing beneath the oak trees was too much to bear. Then she fixed her gaze firmly ahead and bounded up to the top of the hollow. But as she crested the rise, she felt Oakheart’s gaze still scorching her pelt.

I must be as strong as fire!

The woods were full of shadows, and it took her a while to adjust to the dark as she weaved around brambles and squeezed through clumps of fern. Her heart quickened as she neared camp; a Clanmate might be roaming the forest. Not this early, she told herself. But she still tensed at every rustle and scent drifting on the air.

She slid down the ravine, holding her breath as her paws sent a shower of grit tumbling down below. To her relief, Adderfang was nowhere to be seen. The camp entrance was unguarded. She slunk inside and headed straight for the warriors’ den, her gaze flitting nervously around the silent clearing.

Yellow light was rolling across the sky, reaching down to pierce the shadows beneath the trees. The dawn patrol would be gathering soon. Bluefur slid into the yew bush, tense as a hunted mouse, and tiptoed to her nest. Lionheart grumbled as she brushed past his nest, but no one stirred. Curling down into her nest, Bluefur closed her eyes. She didn’t want to sleep; she wanted to remember, to relive the moments she’d spent with Oakheart. She had only spent one night with him, and she loved him more deeply than she had thought was possible. How could she live, never talking to him again? Worse than that—how could she see him at Gatherings or on the shore and pretend that they were enemies?

But there was no choice. She was a ThunderClan warrior, loyal to the warrior code. And that meant she couldn’t be friends with a cat from another Clan. No matter how much he filled her thoughts.

“If you’re listening,” she breathed to Moonflower and Snowfur, “I promise I won’t meet him again.”

Bluefur’s head was fuzzy with tiredness when she joined her Clanmates to wait for orders about the day’s patrols. Lionheart couldn’t wait to get started. “I’ve been stuck in camp all morning,” he complained.

“Someone had to fix that hole in the camp wall,” Adderfang told him.

“And you did a good job, too,” Smallear added. “It’s stronger than ever.”

Thrushpelt hurried over, licking his lips. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “I was starving. Had to eat.”

Dappletail shook her head. “You’d have made Weedwhisker proud,” she teased, reminding them all of the greedy old elder.

Sunstar was pacing around them. Tawnyspots was with Featherwhisker, complaining of sickness, so the ThunderClan leader was in charge of organizing the patrols again.

“Adderfang, take Lionheart, Whitestorm, Thistleclaw, and Tigerclaw,” Sunstar ordered. “Re-mark the new RiverClan borders. But be careful. They might be planning an ambush.” He paused, as though wondering whether to send more warriors.

“We’ll check the area thoroughly before we climb the rocks,” Adderfang assured him.

Sunstar nodded. “Good. Goldenflower, you can take Patchpelt, Thrushpelt, and Bluefur to check the Twoleg border.”

The pale ginger she-cat dipped her head, then turned to the members of her patrol. “Come on,” she called. “Let’s go scare a few kittypets!” Her tone was light and amused, to Bluefur’s relief. Bluefur hadn’t forgotten Thistleclaw’s treatment of the little black kit—and right now, she didn’t think she could scare a mouse.

“We’ll split into pairs,” Goldenflower told them as they reached Tallpines. “I’ll check near the treecutplace with Patchpelt. You two, check the Twoleg border.” She nodded to Bluefur and Thrushpelt.

Bluefur hardly heard her. In her mind, she was sitting in the Great Oak beneath the stars, with Oakheart beside her.

“Are you coming?” Thrushpelt’s mew was muffled by the bramble he was holding back in his jaws. He used his tail to beckon Bluefur through the gap he had made.

“Thanks,” she murmured, padding past him.

“It’s a shame we’re not hunting today. I’d love to pick up some tips from you.” Thrushpelt hurried after her. “You have a great nose.” He hesitated. “I mean, you can detect the slightest scent.”

“Oh…er…thanks,” Bluefur stammered. Thrushpelt was always saying things like this. Why did his enthusiasm feel so clumsy and annoying all of a sudden?

He stopped to re-scent a marker as they reached the border. Bluefur turned away. She stared at the Twoleg fence rising ahead of them. This was where she’d seen Pinestar with Jake.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Thrushpelt sighed. “I wonder if we’ll see Pinestar?”

Bluefur flicked her tail. “I expect he’s got a new name by now.”

Thrushpelt turned to her with his eyes stretched wide. “How can a Clan cat become a kittypet? I’d rather be RiverClan first—and that would be bad enough.”

Bluefur looked at the fence and said nothing. If I were RiverClan, everything would be so much easier.

By the time they reached camp again, Bluefur was too tired to feel anything. She headed for her nest, pushing her way into the yew den. Tawnyspots was curled in his own nest, fast asleep, huddled tight as though he was bone-cold. But it was warm in the den. The leaf-bare sunshine had been pooling in the camp all morning, warming the air.

As Bluefur padded past him, her pelt pricked. A sharp, sour scent was drifting from him: the stench of illness, so strong that it turned her paws cold. She suddenly noticed how his bones jutted through his scrawny pelt. Tawnyspots was really sick. ThunderClan might need a new deputy any moment.

Bluefur hurried out of the den. Was Tawnyspots going to die? I’ll ask Goosefeather. Please let him make sense this time! She had to know. It was too soon. How could she possibly become deputy when she hadn’t even finished training her first apprentice? When she reached the clearing, the old medicine cat was already surrounded by Clanmates.

Dappletail was shaking her head. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in days, with his coming and going in the night.”

Smallear agreed. “The only exercise he does is padding back and forth to the dirtplace.”

“Will he recover this time?” Whitestorm asked.

Bluefur pushed in beside the white warrior. “Are you talking about Tawnyspots?” she whispered.

Whitestorm nodded.

“He does seem even sicker than usual,” Lionheart put in.

Goosefeather’s gaze was heavy with worry. “We’ve tried everything, but nothing helps.”

Bluefur flicked her tail. What was Goosefeather trying to tell them? “He recovered last time,” she pointed out.

“He wasn’t this sick last time,” Goosefeather countered. “Sunstar will have to start thinking about appointing a new deputy before long.” He stared at Bluefur, his gaze suddenly sharp and excited as a kit’s.

Bluefur stiffened. Was this her chance?

A voice behind her murmured, “Oh, yes, it’s time for me to take Tawnyspots’s place.”

Bluefur spun around. Thistleclaw stood behind her, where Goosefeather could see him, too. The spiky tom’s eyes were glowing, his tail high, his well-muscled shoulders sleek in the sunshine.

Sunstar wants a cat with youth and energy to serve beside him. Bluefur remembered Goosefeather’s words with a shiver.

Right now, Thistleclaw seemed to be the strongest, most promising cat in the Clan. Would Sunstar choose him to be the next deputy instead?