Bluestar's Prophecy (16 page)

“Is the catmint alive?” she called, but the medicine cat apprentice’s muzzle was too deeply buried in weeds to hear.

Snowfur was staring out into the trees, her ears pricked up. Bluefur scanned her own side. Through the leaves fluttering on the low branches, she spotted Pinestar. He was still on the fence. And beside him she recognized a cat with an orange pelt.

Jake?

Was Pinestar going to attack him? Bluefur tensed, waiting for the first shriek. But none came. The two cats seemed to be quietly talking.

“Get away!” Snowfur’s hiss made Bluefur jump.

“What’s wrong?” She scooted along the wall, hackles raised.

Snowfur was staring down at a tortoiseshell kittypet, who was gazing up at her with enormous golden eyes.

Bluefur arched her back. “We grow big as badgers when we’re angry!” she warned.

“
And
we eat bones,” Snowfur spat.

Yowling in terror, the kittypet whirled around and sped into the undergrowth.

Bluefur purred. “That was easy.” She bounded down into the grassy clearing and ran to tell Featherwhisker. “Don’t worry!” she announced. “We’ve frightened off the kittypet.”

Featherwhisker plucked his head from the weed tangle. “What kittypet?”

“The one threatening to climb the wall!”

“Threatening, eh?” Featherwhisker’s eyes glowed.

Bluefur fidgeted with embarrassment. “Well, it might have jumped up!”

Featherwhisker purred. “Thanks,” he mewed. “Can you call Snowfur? I need both of you to help me carry this catmint back.”

Bluefur dashed back to the wall. “Featherwhisker needs help.”

She led Snowfur back to where Featherwhisker had piled bundles of catmint on the grass, and scooped up a bundle under her chin just as Stonepelt had taught her. The fragrant scent made Bluefur’s claws itch. It smelled delicious. “I can manage more,” she offered. Featherwhisker dragged another frond from the plant, and Bluefur grasped it in her jaws.

“I want to try that!” Snowfur sounded impressed. She struggled to grasp two bundles as Bluefur had, securing them in place at last, and the three cats set off for home with the precious herb.

“You’ve brought loads!” Goosefeather was delighted when they dropped the catmint in the medicine clearing.

Bluefur felt a surge of pride. Her mouth was still watering from the tantalizing taste. It had been hard not to munch a leaf or two, but she knew it was too precious to waste.

“You must be hungry,” Goosefeather went on. “Go get
something to eat.” He glanced at Featherwhisker. “You may as well go, too, and while you’re at the fresh-kill pile, you can bring me back a morsel to eat. I’ve had a busy morning.”

Bluefur glanced around at the clearing. It was scattered with herbs lying amid fallen leaves, and a patch of grass was flattened in one corner where the sun pooled. It was the exact shape of a plump medicine cat.

Busy? Huh.

Sunfall was nosing through the fresh-kill pile when they reached it. He looked up. “Pinestar’s just arrived, hungry as a starling,” he meowed.

Bluefur glanced at the ThunderClan leader, who was washing beside the nettle patch. He had made it back to camp before them—but he hadn’t been carrying two bundles of catmint.

“How did you get on with your first assignment?” Sunfall asked.

“Okay,” Bluefur mewed, hoping Featherwhisker agreed.

Featherwhisker purred. “They gave me enough time to gather plenty.”

Pinestar looked up. “You were gathering catmint?”

“Enough to see us through till leaf-fall,” Featherwhisker replied.

Was that alarm flashing in the ThunderClan leader’s eyes? Was he worried they’d seen him chatting with Jake?

Sunfall pawed a thrush from the pile. “I’m glad they were useful.”

“They scared off a kittypet,” Featherwhisker told him.

Sunfall dipped his head. “Well done, you two.” He sounded genuinely pleased. Bluefur puffed out her chest as Sunfall carried the thrush to Pinestar.

The ThunderClan leader turned it over with his paw and sniffed it, as though he wasn’t sure whether he was hungry anymore. Surely he had worked up an appetite trekking all the way to Twolegplace and back? Bluefur’s belly was growling like a ShadowClan warrior.

She picked a mouse from the pile and settled beside the tree stump. As she began to chew on the mouse, she looked at Pinestar again. He was nibbling delicately on a wing while Sunfall dozed beside him.

Just what had the ThunderClan leader been doing on that fence?

A full moon lit the clearing
, dappling the Clans. For the first time in moons, the great oaks of Fourtrees swished with leaves. Bluefur shivered, exhilarated as the fresh night breeze ruffled her fur. This was her first Gathering as a warrior—and her first where Clan grudges and rivalries seemed to have been forgotten, at least for the truce. WindClan looked sleek and well fed; RiverClan stank of freshly caught fish; ShadowClan’s eyes flashed brightly from the dark shade of the trees.

Mumblefoot was sharing tongues with Whiteberry, a WindClan elder, while the medicine cats huddled together, talking quietly. Adderfang and Stormtail sat with Ottersplash and Raggedpelt, while Poppydawn sat in a circle of apprentices, purring indulgently while they boasted.

“I climbed my first tree yesterday,” a tabby RiverClan apprentice meowed, flexing his claws.

Poppydawn blinked. “Do RiverClan cats climb trees?”

“I thought you just swam!” Sweetpaw mewed.

The RiverClan tabby fluffed out his chest. “I can do both.”

“Well, I bet you can’t catch squirrels,” Thistlepaw challenged.

“Yuck.” The RiverClan apprentice pulled a face. “Who would
want
to?”

RiverClan was acting as though their attack on Sunningrocks had not happened, and the ThunderClan warriors weren’t crowing about their victory. Yet as Crookedpaw headed toward her, Bluefur felt a prickle of unease.

“You fought well,” he mewed.

She flattened her ears. “I fight even better now that I’m a
warrior
,” she warned.

His eyes lit unexpectedly with excitement. “I’ve got my warrior name, too!”

“Crooked
jaw
?”

“How did you guess?” A purr rumbled in his throat.

“Because your
tail’s
still straight.”

A yowl sounded from the Great Rock. “Let the Gathering begin.”

Pinestar stood at the edge of the stone, moonlight gleaming on his pelt. Silhouetted behind him were Hailstar, Heatherstar, and Cedarstar. Pinestar stepped back as the Clans began to crowd beneath the rock, and Cedarstar took his place.

“Newleaf has brought prey and warmth, but also more kittypets,” the ShadowClan leader announced. “Only today, a hunting patrol had to chase a ginger tom from our borders.”

Jake?
Bluefur watched Pinestar, checking for a reaction.

Ottersplash called from RiverClan, “They hide in their cozy nests all leaf-bare and forget that the woods are ours!”

Adderfang curled his lip. “It never takes long to remind them to keep to their own soft lives.”

The Clans murmured in agreement.

Hailstar padded to the front. “WindClan has increased patrols to remind the barn cats to stay off our land.” He looked expectantly at Pinestar.

Bluefur narrowed her eyes. Would Pinestar tell the Clans about kittypets intruding on ThunderClan territory?

The ThunderClan leader lifted his chin. “We intend to increase patrols”—he paused, suddenly glaring at Hailstar—“to warn off
any
intruders.”

Bluefur shifted her paws. Why bring up Clan rivalries now? Everyone seemed to agree that it was kittypets causing the trouble. She wasn’t the only cat ruffled by Pinestar’s challenge. Growls rumbled among the RiverClan cats.

“No ShadowClan cat has crossed your border in moons,” Raggedpelt, the deputy, snarled.

Hawkheart called from the knot of medicine cats, “WindClan has stayed to our side of Fourtrees!”

Hailstar’s hackles lifted. “Are you accusing RiverClan of crossing your scent line?”

Pinestar shrugged. “I’m not accusing any cat of anything. But ThunderClan will be stepping up patrols from now on.” He blinked at Cedarstar. “Better safe than sorry.”

Bluefur’s belly tightened as anger charged the air.

Crookedjaw stood up. “Why accuse the Clans? We were talking about kittypets!”

Oakheart growled from beside his brother, “ThunderClan cats always were a bunch of kittypet friends!”

“Who are you calling kittypet friends?” Adderfang
whipped his head around, eyes blazing.

Oakheart met his gaze steadily. Confidence glowed in the RiverClan warrior’s eyes. “You live beside Twolegplace!” he growled. “You’re practically denmates.”

Poppydawn bristled. “How dare you, fish-breath?”

Heatherstar called from the Great Rock, “By StarClan, stop!” She looked up at Silverpelt, glittering through the leaves. Wisps of clouds were hiding some of the stars.

Muttering, the Clans fell into a prickly silence.

The WindClan leader lifted her muzzle. “Kittypets rarely reach our borders.”

Talltail called from below, “They’re too slow to chase rabbits anyway.”

“And squirrels,” Smallear added.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the Clans, but pelts were still ruffled. Bluefur’s paws pricked with frustration. Why had Pinestar stirred up trouble?

Hailstar stepped to the front of the Great Rock again. “Enough of kittypets,” he yowled. “RiverClan has a new warrior.” He nodded to his Clan. “Crookedjaw!”

As the Clans muttered halfhearted cheers for the new warrior, Bluefur tensed. Was she going to get the same reception as Leopardfoot and Patchpelt had? She closed her eyes as Pinestar announced her name along with Snowfur’s, relieved when the Clans grunted their approval, even if it was less of a welcome than they had given Crookedjaw.

As the Gathering broke up in a frosty silence, Snowfur brushed against her.

“Why did Pinestar try to upset the other Clans?” Bluefur whispered.

“He was only warning them off.”

“But why accuse
them
instead of the kittypets?”

Snowfur shrugged. “The kittypets aren’t here.”

That wasn’t good enough. There’d been no evidence of other Clans crossing the border. But the kittypets had been coming and going as though they owned the territory. Why didn’t Pinestar want to admit that kittypets were stinking up the border with their scent markers and scaring away prey that was needed to fatten the Clan after a long leaf-bare?

The morning brought warmth to the camp. Bluefur yawned, tired after her late night. Snowfur had already left on the dawn patrol with Adderfang and Thistlepaw. The newleaf sun shone on the clearing as Bluefur gathered below Highrock to hear Sunfall name the patrols. She flicked her tail happily when he called her name to hunt with Thrushpelt, Tawnyspots, and Rosepaw.

“Bluefur?” Leopardfoot was padding from Pinestar’s den, the lichen still swishing behind her. “Pinestar wants to speak with you.”

“Why?” Had she done something wrong? Perhaps he’d seen her watching him with Jake. Or maybe some cat had overheard her ask Snowfur why Pinestar had challenged the Clans and not the kittypets.

Leopardfoot shrugged and headed for the nursery, her paw steps heavy beneath the weight of her belly. Bluefur padded
reluctantly to Pinestar’s den.

The Clan leader was blinking in the gloom as she nosed her way in. “Bluefur,” he greeted her solemnly.

Bluefur stared nervously at him, shifting her paws.

“I’ve overlooked part of your training,” he meowed.

“What?”

“You haven’t seen the Moonstone.”

The Moonstone!
The sacred stone where leaders received their nine lives and where the medicine cats shared dreams with StarClan! Excitement pushed all worries from Bluefur’s mind.

“All young cats should go there to receive StarClan’s blessing,” Pinestar went on. “I would have taken you before, but the battle with WindClan and the heavy snows have made the journey too hard. Now I want to share dreams with StarClan, and you might as well come with me.”

“Will Snowfur come, too?”

“WindClan may not trust three warriors crossing their land,” Pinestar meowed. “I’ll take her next time.”

Bluefur knew that they had to cross the moorland to reach Mothermouth, the cave that held the Moonstone. Surely WindClan would know they were just passing through their territory? She sighed. Perhaps memories of the attack on the WindClan camp were still too raw.

The ThunderClan leader closed his eyes. “Go to Goosefeather for traveling herbs,” he murmured.

Traveling herbs?
Bluefur wondered if they’d taste as bad as the herbs that Goosefeather had given the cats before the attack
on WindClan. “Should I bring you some?”

Pinestar shook his head. “I must not eat before sharing with StarClan.”

Lucky you!
She turned and pushed through the lichen.

Goosefeather was already waiting outside the fern tunnel. Bluefur tensed. He hadn’t said anything about the prophecy since the day the fox came, two moons ago. Would he mention it now?

But he just blinked and pushed the herbs toward her. “Pinestar says he’s taking you to the Moonstone.”

Bluefur nodded. Was that curiosity flashing in his eyes?

“Eat these.” He turned and padded away. Had he mentioned something to Pinestar about the prophecy? Is that why the ThunderClan leader was taking her and not Snowfur? Did he know she was special?

“Hurry up!” Pinestar called across the clearing. “I want to be there by moonhigh.”

Bluefur quickly lapped up the pile of green leaves, gagging against the bitterness, and raced after her leader.

They followed the route to Fourtrees, retracing their steps to last night’s Gathering. Bluefur could smell lingering Clan scents as they padded past the Great Rock. It looked strange in daylight—dull and lifeless without the moon’s glow.

The grass became coarse beneath her paws as they climbed the slope to WindClan territory. “Remember,” Pinestar warned as the wind began to whip at their fur and the trees gave way to stunted bushes, “no hunting here.”

Of course not!
Besides, Bluefur wasn’t hungry. Goosefeather’s
herbs had squashed her appetite and made her paws itch to run, but she followed Pinestar’s steady pace as he led the way through the heather until the ground flattened out into a wide plateau. Bluefur scanned the horizon, looking for WindClan’s camp and the rock where she had sheltered during the battle. But only the sound of the wind streaming over the grass seemed familiar.

Suddenly the ground dipped down at their paws and the whole length of WindClan’s territory stretched out on either side. Pinestar stopped as the world unfurled in front of them. The moorland rolled down into a wide, deep valley, where Twoleg nests clustered in knots, small as grass seeds, and far in the distance rose a cliff of tall, jagged peaks.

“Are those Highstones?” Bluefur breathed.

Pinestar nodded.

The acid tang of the Thunderpath drifted from the valley. Bluefur could see a thin gray strip winding like a river below them. She had seen the Thunderpath that separated ThunderClan’s forest from ShadowClan territory, but had never crossed it. This Thunderpath looked busier. From there it seemed as though the monsters crawled along like insects, but Bluefur knew how huge they were and had heard of cats killed by them, traveling at such speed that even the fastest warrior could be caught.

“Come on.” Pinestar started down the slope.

Bluefur could smell the scent markers lining the WindClan border and see the lush grass coating the slopes below. Her paws ached for its softness.

“Halt!”

A WindClan yowl made them freeze. Bluefur stiffened as Pinestar whipped around to greet the WindClan patrol. Bracing herself, she turned to see Talltail and Reedfeather, the WindClan deputy, bounding through the heather, their hackles raised and teeth bared, three more warriors at their heels.

“Let your fur lie flat,” Pinestar hissed.

Bluefur tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths.
We’re allowed to cross to Highstones
, she told herself as the WindClan warriors pulled up a tail-length away.

Reedfeather narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to Highstones?” he challenged.

Pinestar nodded.

The WindClan deputy circled them, opening his mouth to taste their scent.

“We haven’t hunted,” Pinestar meowed evenly.

Reedfeather snorted. “With ThunderClan, it’s always best to make sure.”

Pinestar dug his claws into the peaty soil but said nothing.

“Go, then!” Reedfeather snapped. “And hurry. We don’t want you stinking up our land and scaring off prey.”

Pinestar turned. Wasn’t he going to respond? Bluefur struggled to keep her fur from bristling with anger, but Pinestar just padded heavily down the slope, head and tail down. There was no fear-scent on him. But the weariness in his step made Bluefur wonder what was driving him to share dreams with StarClan. Perhaps he was more worried about the kittypets than he would admit.

Bluefur could feel the stares of the WindClan patrol burning her pelt as she headed downhill. She relaxed only when they crossed the border, her paws sinking into the soft grass. From there, Pinestar kept to quiet pathways, winding far from Twoleg nests. Bluefur ached with tiredness by the time they neared the Thunderpath, and she was glad of the traveling herbs that kept her hunger at bay. The sun was dropping behind Highstones, throwing long shadows across the valley. Overhead the moon hung in a pale sky and stars began to blink.

The roar of the Thunderpath shook Bluefur’s belly. By the time they reached it, an endless stream of monsters was roaring past, eyes blazing. Dazzled, Bluefur blinked each time one roared past, and wrinkled her nose at its stinking breath. Pinestar crouched in the ditch at the edge, steadying her with a touch of his tail. Bluefur couldn’t stop trembling. The monsters pounded past from both directions, their foul hot wind tugging her whiskers and buffeting her fur. How would they get across?

“Stay behind me,” Pinestar ordered. He guided her forward till her claws touched the stinking black stone, hardly flinching as another monster roared past less than a tail-length away.

Terrified, Bluefur leaped backward.

“Get back here,” Pinestar growled. Breathing hard, Bluefur crept back to his side and forced herself to hold her ground as another monster whizzed past.

“Now!” Pinestar shot forward.

Heart pounding in her throat, Bluefur raced with him, her
paws slipping on the smooth Thunderpath, her mind whirling in panic as she saw lights bearing down and heard the yowl of a monster hurtling toward them. Blind with terror, she ran with Pinestar, pressing against his pelt until the ground turned to grass beneath her paws.