Bluestar's Prophecy

Chapter 42

Adderfang spoke gently. “Bluefur, would you like to join a hunting patrol today?”

Bluefur gazed at him, trying to focus.

A moon had passed since she’d left her kits with Oakheart. The nursery walls had been fortified with extra brambles. Two warriors sat guard through each freezing night to make sure that no fox or badger would ever steal into the nursery again. The Clan had believed Bluefur’s story—that she’d awoken to find her kits gone. Every cat believed that they had been stolen by an animal that had clawed a hole in the back of the nursery, driven by starvation to venture into the camp for the first time.

They’d searched the forest for days, not knowing where to look, the scent trail killed by freezing snow. Bluefur had scoured the woods with her Clanmates, numb with guilt, reminding herself over and over that she’d done it for her Clan. Meanwhile hunger and sorrow gripped the Clan. They spoke in low voices and huddled in knots, eyeing Bluefur with pity that stabbed her like thorns. She was sick of telling lies. She hardly noticed how empty the fresh-kill pile was these days. She was too miserable to eat, wishing only to hide in sleep. She felt as though the shard of ice piercing her heart would never melt.

They’ll be safe with Oakheart.

The thought wasn’t enough to ease her grief.

Was Mosskit watching from StarClan, hating Bluefur for stealing her life? Had Snowfur explained that her life had been sacrificed for the good of her Clan?

“Bluefur.” Adderfang rested his tail on her shoulder and repeated his question. “Do you feel up to hunting?”

“I’ll hunt with you, if you like.” Thrushpelt hurried to join her. Sadness shadowed his gaze. He was grieving as a father would grieve. He’d worked harder than any other cat to reinforce the nursery, and his pelt was still tufted and scratched from the brambles he’d woven tightly into the branches. Bluefur wished she could tell him that two kits lived on, safe and cherished, across the river.

She shrugged off Adderfang’s tail. “I’d rather hunt alone.”

Adderfang nodded. “As you wish.”

Thrushpelt turned away, his eyes clouding.

“Bluefur!” Rosetail caught up to her, pressing close as she padded toward the tunnel. “Are you going to be all right?”

No! Nothing will ever be all right ever again. Bluefur longed to curl up against her friend’s warm fur and go to sleep for a moon. “I’ll be fine,” she replied, feeling hollow.

She scrambled up the side of the ravine and headed into the forest. As the Owl Tree came into view, a squirrel darted across her path. She froze, her paws burning with cold on the ice-hardened forest floor. The squirrel had a nut in its jaws and was scrabbling among the roots of an oak. Bluefur dropped into a hunting crouch, tail straight, belly lifted from the forest floor.

Stonekit. Did he still remember his ThunderClan hunting crouch?

Pushing away the thought, she thrust down with her hind paws and sprang, landing squarely and killing the squirrel with a single bite.

“Nice catch.”

Goosefeather’s rasping mew made her whip around. The squirrel swung from her jaws.

She dropped it. “What are you doing here?” The elders rarely made it up the ravine.

“I still have legs, you know,” he snapped.

It was jarring to hear a Clanmate speak to her in a voice that wasn’t honeyed with sympathy. She straightened and met his gaze. “What do you want?” Did he have another stupid prophecy to ruin her life?

“You did the right thing.”

His words made her bristle. “For whom?”

“For your Clan.” Goosefeather narrowed his eyes. “The prophecy left no room for kits. You must blaze alone at the head of your Clan.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she hissed. She hated the prophecy and hated Goosefeather for telling her about it.

Goosefeather blinked. “It is not your destiny to feel better, it’s your destiny to save your Clan.”

“And I will,” she growled, her mew as hard as flint. “But I will always regret what I’ve done.”

“The kits were your choice,” Goosefeather pointed out. “StarClan made no provision for them.”

“StarClan made me sacrifice everything I loved.” Bitterness rose like bile in her throat. “My kits—”

Goosefeather cut her off. “They’re alive, aren’t they?”

“Not Mosskit.”

“StarClan will honor her loss.”

“What about my loss?”

“It is small compared with the fate of your Clan.”

Bluefur shook her head, trying to clear it. Was she just being selfish? What was one broken heart compared to the safety of her Clanmates? Where was her loyalty? She dipped her head. “I’ll serve my Clan,” she promised.

“Good.” Goosefeather nodded. “Sunstar wants to talk to you.”

He padded away into the trees.

Bluefur met the ThunderClan leader as he was climbing over the top of the ravine.

“Bluefur.” Sunstar greeted her. “I wanted to talk to you away from the camp.” He headed into the forest. “Walk with me.”

Bluefur fell in beside her old mentor, remembering how he had spoken to her after the death of Moonflower and again when she’d been grieving for Snowfur. “Is this another lecture to tell me to leave the past behind?” she growled.

He shook his head. “It seems you are destined to suffer,” he sighed. Bluefur looked into his eyes and saw how the ThunderClan leader had aged in the last few seasons. Making ThunderClan strong and feared among the other Clans had cost him three lives in battle; sickness had taken another two. Goosefeather had told her to aspire to leadership, but was this how she wanted to spend her days? Fretting and fighting and tired from the weight of responsibility?

I have no choice. StarClan has chosen my path.

The ThunderClan leader ducked under a low-hanging fern. “I can tell you only what I’ve told you before. Life goes on.” They brushed past a bush where tiny green buds had pushed off their brown husks, hazing the branches with green. “Leaf-bare is followed by newleaf and then by greenleaf. The forest doesn’t freeze forever. You must take heart from that, after the loss of your kits. I know that you will be okay—and even stronger than before.”

Would he be so sympathetic if he knew two of them lived on, with RiverClan? The fur pricked along her spine.

“Cold?” Sunstar asked.

“A little.”

They padded farther through the trees. Sunstar seemed to have something on his mind, and Bluefur waited for him to speak first. They jumped over a narrow stream, swift with snowmelt, and pushed through a bramble thicket where the stale scent of rabbit clung to the thorns.

Sunstar led the way through the thicket and held a tendril out of the way with his tail. “Are you ready to take on the deputyship?” he asked.

Bluefur stopped, half under the brambles. This was it. The moment she’d longed for. The reward for what I have given up.

“Tawnyspots won’t get any better,” Sunstar went on. “He’s asked to move to the elders’ den. A new deputy must be found.” He gazed hard into her eyes. “Will you be that deputy?”

Bluefur blinked. “What about Thistleclaw?” She had to know why Sunstar hadn’t chosen the fierce young warrior instead of her. Does he know about the prophecy?

Sunstar stared into the trees. “Thistleclaw would be a popular choice,” he conceded. “No cat can doubt his courage, or his battle skills, or his pride in his Clan. But I don’t want my Clan to be led into endless fighting. Our borders are strong enough without being marked over and over in blood. ThunderClan deserves to live in peace, and I believe you can give it that.”

Bluefur hesitated, her mind swirling with images of her kits, of Oakheart with moonlight on his fur, and of Thistleclaw glistening with blood.

Sunstar repeated his offer. “Are you ready, Bluefur?”

Bluefur nodded. “I’m ready.”

The last melting drifts sparkled in the dying sun, and pink light dappled the clearing. Sunstar stood at the foot of Highrock with Tawnyspots on one side, Bluefur on the other. The ThunderClan deputy’s shoulders were hunched, his haunches drawn in as though in pain. His ribs pushed against his ragged pelt.

Sunstar dipped his head low. “Tawnyspots, ThunderClan thanks you for your loyalty and your courage. You have served your Clan well, and we hope that your days in the elders’ den are peaceful. Your stories and wisdom will still have a place in the Clan, and we will continue to learn from you.”

Tawnyspots flicked his tail—Bluefur saw pain flash in his eyes—as his Clanmates yowled his name.

“Tawnyspots! Tawnyspots!” Rosetail’s voice rose above the others as she cheered her old mentor. Thistleclaw lifted his muzzle and growled Tawnyspots’s name; Bluefur flinched when she thought about how Thistleclaw must feel about not taking the deputy’s place.

“Bluefur.” Sunstar touched his tail to her shoulders. “You will be ThunderClan deputy from this day forward. May StarClan grant you the courage to help your Clan face whatever lies in its path. And when the time comes for you to take my place, I pray you will shine at the head of our Clan.”

“Bluefur! Bluefur!”

She felt the pale sun warm her pelt and breathed in the scents of the forest, her home. And now her territory, even more than before.

Whitestorm cheered her, pride singing in his yowl. But Thistleclaw drowned him out with a yowl that reached for StarClan. Bluefur shifted her paws. The warrior’s eyes were gleaming with fury, and she guessed his loud call was just a trick to fool the Clan into believing the new deputy had his full support.

If only they had seen him as she had, with his claws at Oakheart’s throat, goading Tigerclaw on to savage a helpless kit, pacing the borders with wild-eyed hunger for revenge. The memories gave Bluefur strength. Whatever it had cost her, she was the only cat who could stand in Thistleclaw’s way. Only she knew what he was capable of.

For the first time in moons, there was enough fresh-kill for a feast. Early newleaf had brought mice from their holes and birds from their secluded leaf-bare nests. As the Clan cats shared what they had, Sunstar beckoned Bluefur to his den.

“I know I’ve made the right choice.” Sunstar swished through the lichen and sat down, a silhouette in the shadowy den. “You still have a lot to learn, but I’m looking forward to mentoring you again.”

Bluefur dipped her head. “I’m ready to learn.”

The Clan leader shook his head. “We must work together if we are to guide the Clan well. Never be afraid of sharing your worries with me. I trust your judgment and will listen to whatever you have to say.”

“Then I can voice my fears about Thistleclaw?” Bluefur risked, with a quick glance at him.

Sunstar nodded. “I share them, believe me. But I believe that he is also a loyal and useful warrior, and we should be proud to have him in our Clan.” The ThunderClan leader glanced at his paws. “While we’re being honest, there is something else you should know. A secret only Featherwhisker and I share.”

Bluefur narrowed her eyes. So she wasn’t the only cat in ThunderClan with secrets.

“I have just three lives left, not four,” Sunstar confessed.

Bluefur blinked. “How did you lose the extra one?” And why keep it a secret?

“I didn’t. It was never given to me. When Pinestar left, he still had one life as the leader of this Clan. StarClan counted this life against mine. They gave me only eight because Pinestar kept his ninth.”

Bluefur understood. “And you kept it a secret in case the Clan thought you did not have StarClan’s full blessing.” She tipped her head to one side. “But you can be honest now, surely? You have proved over and over that you are a great leader. What cat would doubt it?”

“A cat with ambition might choose to doubt it.”

He means Thistleclaw. Bluefur returned his steady gaze. “But what about me? I have ambition,” she pointed out.

“Only to serve your Clan,” Sunstar answered. “That is why I chose you. You have suffered much and lost much, and yet you still serve your Clanmates, putting their needs before yours, willing to sacrifice all for the sake of your Clan.”

If only he knew!

“My Clan is all I have now,” Bluefur confessed. “I will give every breath in my body to serve it.” Regret tugged in her belly.

But I am fire. And this is the path I must follow.