Bluestar's Prophecy (8 page)

Pinestar shook his head. “I need you to stay here and help defend the nursery.”

Thistlekit puffed out his chest. “No WindClan cat’ll make it past me.”

“I believe you.” Pinestar sounded calm.

As Bluepaw watched him reassure his Clanmates, she realized that all trace of the doubt she’d seen in him earlier was gone. He stood with his broad head high and his powerful shoulders stiff, as though already primed for battle.

She wondered how many lives he had left. Perhaps that’s what gave him confidence. Why did only leaders get to have nine lives? Wouldn’t it be more useful if StarClan granted every cat nine lives?

Moonflower padded from the fern tunnel, her yellow eyes glowing in the half-light. “You two should get to sleep early tonight.” She reached Bluepaw and Snowpaw and touched
each in turn lightly with her muzzle. Bluepaw could smell fear on her pelt, but her mew was unchanged. “I haven’t seen your nests yet. Are they comfortable?”

“I wouldn’t mind a bit more moss,” Snowpaw mewed. “The bracken keeps poking through.”

“I’ll get some from mine.” Moonflower padded quickly away toward the warriors’ den.

“Are you going to eat that?” Leopardpaw was eyeing Bluepaw’s mouse.

Bluepaw shook her head and tossed it over to the black apprentice.

“You might as well have mine, too,” Snowpaw added, flinging her shrew after.

Leopardpaw licked her lips. “If you insist,” she mewed. “I just hope the sound of your bellies rumbling doesn’t wake me up in the night.”

Bluepaw stood and stretched till her legs trembled. The wind was growing chillier, and it rippled right through her pelt. She nosed her way through the ferns into the shelter of the den and began to paw at her nest, trying to plump up the bracken so that it would keep out the cold.

Snowpaw followed her in. “Are you tired?”

Bluepaw shook her head. “I just don’t like waiting for tomorrow. I wish it was morning already.” She gave her paws a lick. The scent of the nursery was still on them, and she wished for a moment that she was safely back there with Moonflower and Poppydawn and the kits. She had never felt less ready to become a warrior. As she pushed the thought away and
straightened her shoulders, the ferns rustled and Moonflower slid into the den, moss tucked under her chin and dangling from her jaws.

She dropped half in Snowpaw’s nest and the other half in Bluepaw’s. Quietly she smoothed out each pile until both nests were soft with it.

Bluepaw watched her work, feeling hollow. “Moonflower?”

“What is it, my dear?”

“How many battles have you fought in?”

Moonflower thought for a moment. “Too many to count, though they were really just border fights—driving out intruders. This will be the first time I’ve ever been in an attack on another Clan’s territory.”

“Are you nervous?”

Snowpaw snorted. “Of course she’s not nervous! She’s a ThunderClan warrior.”

Moonflower licked Snowpaw affectionately between the ears. “All warriors are nervous before battle—if not for themselves, then for their denmates and their whole Clan. It makes their senses sharper and their claws fiercer, and it gives them hunger for victory.”

Bluepaw sighed, feeling some of the tension unknot from her belly. She wasn’t just a scaredy-mouse after all. Suddenly tired, she settled down in her nest and yawned. “Thanks for the moss, Moonflower.”

Snowpaw was circling in hers. “It’s so soft.”

“It should keep you warm,” Moonflower meowed. “After the battle, we’ll go out and collect more and make sure both
your nests are as soft as feathers.”

Bluepaw closed her eyes. She imagined herself padding through the woods beside Snowpaw and Moonflower, the battle far behind and nothing to worry about but where to find the softest moss. The thought soothed her.

“I’ll just lie down between you while you go to sleep.” Moonflower settled on her belly between the two nests. Bluepaw could hear Snowpaw’s breath slowing as Moonflower purred gently. Rolling toward the warmth of her mother, she felt Moonflower’s soft belly fur brush her pelt and smelled the familiar scent that reminded her of the moons spent in the nursery.

Happily she drifted into sleep.

Half waking, she felt Moonflower stir. Blinking in the moonlight, she saw Leopardpaw and Patchpaw asleep in their nests. It must be late.

Moonflower got to her paws. “Sleep well, little one.” The queen’s breath stirred Bluepaw’s ear fur. “I will always be with you.”

The ferns rustled and Moonflower was gone.

Bluepaw woke with a jolt
.

The battle!

She jumped to her paws and glanced around the den. The fern walls rippled and swayed in the wind as though tugged by invisible paws. Dawn had not yet come, but Leopardpaw and Patchpaw were already sitting up and washing.

Snowpaw stretched in her nest, her eyes shining in the gloom. “What is it?”

“Sparrowpelt wants us in the clearing,” Leopardpaw mewed.

The wind roared above the camp and as Bluepaw pushed her way out of the den, a grit-filled gust hit her face and made her wince. The trees around the camp strained against the angry air, and clouds swept overhead as dark and threatening as crows.

Stonepelt was waiting outside the den, his fur flattened and his eyes half-closed against the swirling leaves and dust. “Not good weather for a battle.”

“Clanmates!” Pinestar’s call was sharp. He stood in the center of the clearing with Goosefeather at his side as his
warriors swarmed around him, lashing their tails. The fur along Adderfang’s spine stood as sharp as thorns. Dappletail tore up clawfuls of earth while Sparrowpelt and Stormtail paced the edge of the clearing, muscles rippling across their broad shoulders.

Featherwhisker was moving from one cat to another, dropping small flurries of herbs at the paws of each.

Those must be the strengthening herbs
, Bluepaw guessed.

Outside the nursery, Moonflower was sharing tongues with Poppydawn. They paused as Thistlekit and Lionkit tumbled out from the brambles, fluffing up their pelts and trying to look big. Poppydawn gave Moonflower a final lick between the ears before scooping both kits, complaining, back into the nursery.

Moonflower’s eyes glittered hard as amber as she crossed the clearing. With her ears flat and her pelt slicked by the wind, Bluepaw hardly recognized her mother. She straightened her back and lifted her chin, vowing to be as much like Moonflower as she could.

Featherwhisker dropped a few herbs at her paws. “You look like a warrior already.”

Bluepaw looked at him in surprise. “Do I?”

Stonepelt narrowed his eyes. “Don’t forget, stay out of the fighting.”

Snowpaw scampered over from the apprentices’ den. “Can you teach us a battle move, just in case?”

Moonflower reached them. “You won’t need any. You won’t be fighting,” she meowed firmly.

Snowpaw bristled, but before she could answer, Featherwhisker pawed some herbs toward her. “Eat these,” he ordered. “They’ll give you strength.”

Bluepaw sniffed at her herbs and wrinkled her nose.

“They’re bitter,” he warned. “But the taste won’t last long.”

Bluepaw stuck out her tongue and lapped up the leaves as Snowpaw ate hers. She gagged when the dark, sour flavor hit the back of her throat, then closed her eyes and forced herself to swallow.

“Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!” Snowpaw was circling frantically, flicking her tongue like an adder, when Bluepaw opened her eyes.

Pinestar’s yowl made her halt: “Goosefeather has more news.”

Moonflower’s eyes widened. “
Another
omen?”

Goosefeather nodded. “I examined the vole in the medicine clearing and found a shred of catmint on its other flank.”

“Is he sure it didn’t come from the floor of his den?” Stonepelt muttered under his breath. “It’s not exactly spotless in there.”

Bluepaw looked at him curiously. Surely her mentor didn’t doubt the medicine cat as well?

Goosefeather went on. “Yesterday you wanted more guidance from StarClan. Now you have it. Our warrior ancestors are telling us how we can fight WindClan’s aggression.”

“With a shred of catmint?” Moonflower’s eyes were round.

“We must take the battle all the way into their camp,”
Goosefeather announced.

“Their camp?” Stonepelt flattened his ears. “Do you know how dangerous that will be?”

“This is StarClan’s advice, not mine,” Goosefeather countered. “The catmint tells me that the only way to defeat WindClan is to destroy its medicine supply.”

Sunfall stepped forward, pelt bristling. “But that would endanger kits and elders. Every Clan depends on its medicine supply, especially with leaf-bare approaching. If we destroy that, we are attacking innocents as well as warriors.” Outrage filled his mew.

Tawnyspots nodded. “What kind of warriors would we be to pull such a fox-hearted trick?”

Goosefeather lifted his chin. “We’d be alive.”

Pinestar took a heavy step forward. “I agree that it seems harsh, but StarClan has warned us that we face destruction unless we act against WindClan aggression before it’s too late. If we attack their medicine supply, they’ll be weakened for moons. ThunderClan will be safe.”

“But what if WindClan suffers an outbreak of whitecough?” Featherwhisker ventured. “How will Hawkheart treat the sick? The kits and elders would be defenseless.”

Adderfang lashed his tail. “Would you sacrifice our own kits and elders to save theirs?” he demanded. “If we don’t attack now, ThunderClan will be destroyed. Is it not worth risking a few WindClan lives to save all of ours?”

Pinestar sighed. “Adderfang is right,” he meowed. “We must follow StarClan’s advice if we are to save ourselves.”

“So we’re attacking the camp?” Stonepelt growled.

“Our target is the medicine den. No kit or elder is to be harmed.” Pinestar narrowed his eyes. “But their medicine supplies must be destroyed.”

Bluepaw shivered as another vicious gust of wind roared down the ravine and howled through the camp. “Do you think the weather is a sign?” she wondered.

“I think we’ve had enough signs for one day,” Moonflower muttered. She suddenly flashed her amber gaze at her kits. “Promise you’ll steer clear of the fighting! There’ll be time for being heroes when you’re bigger and stronger and better trained.” Her eyes blazed, and Bluepaw found herself nodding.

“Snowpaw?”

Snowpaw dipped her head. “Okay.”

Bluepaw saw some of the tension leave her mother’s hunched shoulders.

“Not allowed in the fighting, eh?” Stormtail padded over and flicked Bluepaw’s ear with his tail-tip. “Next time, perhaps.”

Moonflower flashed him a sharp look. “This is going to be a dangerous battle,” she reminded him.

Bluepaw’s belly turned cold.

“We’ve never attacked a Clan’s camp before,” Moonflower went on. “We’ll be fighting the whole Clan in a place they know and we don’t.”

Stormtail nudged her shoulder. “But we’ll have the element of surprise,” he meowed. “And we’ll be fighting at close quarters.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“Up close, WindClan’s nimbleness will count for nothing. ThunderClan strength will have the advantage.”

Bluepaw narrowed her eyes.
That’s not what you told Dappletail
.

Moonflower lowered her gaze. “I suppose.”

“Don’t worry,” Stormtail meowed. “This is a battle we’ll win.”

“ThunderClan warriors! To me!”

Bluepaw’s heart lurched as Pinestar yowled until his voice echoed off the trees. The ThunderClan leader flicked his tail in signal. “Let’s go!”

Excitement crackled like lightning as the raiding party surged toward the swaying gorse tunnel. Bluepaw felt the breeze from their rushing pelts and tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.

Snowpaw and Moonflower headed after them.

“Come on.” Stonepelt nudged Bluepaw forward.

Wanting one last look at the camp, Bluepaw glanced backward as she raced after Snowpaw. There was just enough light to see Thistlekit peer from the nursery, then disappear, his eyes flashing in anger as he was dragged back into the safety of the brambles.

Weedwhisker sat beside Mumblefoot and Larksong like owls among the shivering branches of the fallen tree, while Patchpaw and Fuzzypelt paced the dark clearing. Tawnyspots and Windflight were climbing onto Highrock—ears pricked, pelts ruffled—and Goosefeather was disappearing into the shadows beyond the fern tunnel.

“Goosefeather’s not coming!” Bluepaw gasped, catching up with Snowpaw.

“I guess he needs to stay in his den, preparing for any wounded cats,” Snowpaw guessed.

Her words sent a chill through Bluepaw.
Wounded
! “But
he
told us to attack,” she persisted. Shouldn’t he be with them?

Stonepelt growled behind her, “Perhaps he got a sign from StarClan, warning him to stay out of harm’s way.”

“At least we’ve got Featherwhisker,” Moonflower called over her shoulder as they burst from the tunnel.

The medicine cat apprentice followed them out with a leaf wrap in his jaws. Bluepaw wondered what herbs it contained. They must be strong, because she could smell their sharp scent.

“Hurry!” Stonepelt ran at Bluepaw’s heels, pushing her pace.

The rest of the patrol was already charging for the bottom of the ravine. Bluepaw felt a prickle of worry. Could she climb the steep slope in the dark, with the wind howling around the rocks? She followed Snowpaw up the first tumble of stone, feeling Stonepelt pressing behind her. He wouldn’t let her slip. Claws unsheathed, she clambered upward, following the stream of cats that passed like shadows over the stones.

Featherwhisker’s herbs were working. Her muscles felt strong, and each jump seemed to take her farther than she anticipated. Her heart was racing, but with excitement and not fear. She could sense the anticipation of her Clanmates. Today a great victory would be won. Upward she pushed,
until with a final bound she leaped to the top of the ravine. Without pausing for breath, she pelted into the woods.

Tree trunks blurred around her as Bluepaw ran with her Clan, weaving around bushes in the predawn light. The wind howled, whisking the trees as though they were no more than grass, and shaking their great branches until twigs and leaves rained down. Bluepaw could make out the white patches of Dappletail’s coat ahead as it flashed among the trees. Sunfall’s fur was pale in the half-light, while Adderfang, Pinestar, and Stormtail blended with the shadows, visible only by their movement, like water flowing among reeds.

“Stream ahead,” Moonflower warned.

The cats slowed, bunching, before leaping the glittering water one at a time and racing away through the trees. Bluepaw tensed as her turn neared.
My legs aren’t long enough
. She teetered at the edge while Moonflower leaped across; the silver-gray cat landed delicately on the far side and turned to look back.

“It’s not deep!” she encouraged, her mew almost drowned by the roar of the wind.

“But it’s wet!” Bluepaw wailed.

Snowpaw fidgeted beside her, her paws slipping on the muddy bank.

Stonepelt nudged Bluepaw from behind. “Go on,” he urged. “You’ll make it.”

Bluepaw focused on the far bank and took a deep breath. Screwing up her muscles, she leaped. Stonepelt gave her a helpful shove with his muzzle, and Bluepaw stretched out her
forepaws, managing to grasp the far bank and scramble up beside Moonflower.

Snowpaw was hunched on the other bank, eyes wide as she prepared to jump.

“You can do it!” Bluepaw called.

“I’m coming!” Snowpaw jumped, but her graceful leap turned into a clumsy flop as her hind paws skidded on loose leaves and she splashed belly-first into the stream.

“Mouse dung!” Snowpaw struggled to her paws with the water rushing around her legs, then scrambled out.

Bluepaw ducked as Snowpaw shook the freezing water from her pelt.

“Bad luck.” Stonepelt landed lightly behind them.

“Hurry!” Moonflower commanded. Their Clanmates had disappeared into the forest.

Only Sparrowpelt had waited. He was peering from the bushes up ahead. “I wondered where you’d got to,” he meowed as they caught up. He saw Snowpaw’s drenched pelt and shook his head. “Running will warm you up,” he told her before speeding off again.

Bluepaw fought to catch her breath as they pelted onward. At least she wasn’t soaked to the skin. Poor Snowpaw looked like a drowned rat bounding alongside her. The cold wind was beginning to fluff up her fur, but even the running hadn’t stopped the snowy-white apprentice’s teeth from chattering.

At last they spotted their Clanmates ahead. They had slowed and were trekking in single file. The trees had thinned out, and beyond them Bluepaw saw a smooth, wide path snaking
through the woods, glimmering with shining shadows.

The river!

They caught up and tagged onto the end of the patrol. The river was huge, as wide as the ThunderClan camp, stretching endlessly in each direction. So much water, rolling and tumbling, almost black as it swirled between the banks.

Moonflower and Snowpaw padded a few paw steps ahead. Bluepaw stayed beside her mentor.

“That’s RiverClan territory.” Stonepelt nodded across the water.

Bluepaw sniffed and smelled a fishy stench, familiar from the Gathering. It clung like fog to the bushes.

“That smell is their marker,” Stonepelt whispered. “This bank is RiverClan territory, too, though they rarely cross it when the water’s this cold.”

Cross it?
“They swim in that?” Bluepaw had heard that RiverClan cats could swim, but she couldn’t imagine any cat being mouse-brained enough to try waters that churned so darkly and relentlessly through the forest.

Stonepelt nodded. “Like fish.”

Bluepaw shivered and peered into the trees on the far bank. “Is this the only way to WindClan territory?” she breathed.

“If we want to stay hidden,” Stonepelt explained. “If we went through Fourtrees, we’d be spotted easily.”

Bluepaw’s heart quickened. “What about RiverClan patrols?” She glanced at the river, expecting a cat to crawl out from the dark water at any moment.

“Too early.” Stonepelt sounded confident, but he didn’t look
at her and she wondered if he was just trying to calm her.

She felt a glimmer of relief as the path veered deeper into the forest, away from the water’s edge. But her relief didn’t last long. The trail climbed steeply, rocks jutting between bushes, trees clinging to the slope with roots wound through stony soil. Before long, Bluepaw heard a roaring even more thunderous than the wind. She tensed. “What’s that?”

“The gorge,” Stonepelt told her.