“Do…” Bluepaw searched for the right words. “Do you think…” This is impossible! “Do you think I’m…special?”
Snowpaw broke into a purr. “Well, of course! You’re the best sister in the world!”
Bluepaw shook her head, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What else could you mean? Is there something wrong with you? Did Goosefeather find something when he checked your burns?”
Bluepaw dug her claws in the ground. She would have to be direct. “Goosefeather said the burning branch was a sign.”
“A sign?” Snowpaw’s eyes grew wide as an owl’s. “From StarClan?”
Bluepaw nodded.
“What did it mean? What did he tell you? Does Pinestar know?” Snowpaw blasted her with questions.
“He said that I would blaze through the forest like fire.”
“He’s mad as a hare!”
“But what if he’s right? Do you think it means I…stand out somehow?”
“I don’t even know what that means!” Snowpaw backed away, looking alarmed now. “And you know what his prophecies are like. It was his stupid prophecy that killed Moonflower. You don’t actually believe him, do you?”
“He also said that water would destroy me.”
Snowpaw flattened her ears. “He’s got no right to scare you like that! How dare he?” The fur rose on her shoulders. “Don’t take any notice. His prophecies are worthless. You won’t be destroyed by water! You’re not a RiverClan cat. How could water harm you? Don’t listen to a word of it!”
Shocked, Bluepaw stared at her sister. Was it really so impossible that she was special? What was wrong with believing she might one day lead the Clan? Snowpaw had seemed eager enough to hear about the prophecy until she found out it involved Bluepaw. “You don’t believe it, then?”
Snowpaw tipped her head to one side. “Goosefeather’s an idiot,” she meowed. “Take no notice. Don’t let it worry you.”
Worry me? Why couldn’t she see? If this prophecy is true, it might be the most important thing that has ever happened to me.
But Snowpaw had moved on. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about, too.”
Bluepaw blinked. “Okay.”
“It’s about Thistlepaw.”
Thistlepaw?
“I wish you would make more of an effort to like him.”
“Why? He likes himself enough for both of us.” Bluepaw stiffened. “In fact, you like him enough for the both of us.”
“Don’t be like that.”
Bluepaw was already turning away. “I don’t have to like that arrogant weasel just because you do,” she mewed.
“Bluepaw!” Snowpaw called after her, but Bluepaw didn’t want to hear. Why couldn’t they be like they were in the battle on Sunningrocks, when they had fought side by side, closer than two blades of grass, each looking out for the other? Couldn’t Snowpaw at least try to understand how Bluepaw felt about Goosefeather’s prophecy? Angrily Bluepaw padded back to the clearing. She had wanted to talk about what those words might mean, not to discuss Thistlepaw.
Am I really destined to lead ThunderClan?
Chapter 16
“Bluepaw, from this moment you will be known as Bluefur. StarClan honors your bravery and your strength, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan. Serve your Clan well.”
Bluefur fought to keep her paws still as Pinestar touched her head with his muzzle and her Clanmates began to cheer.
“Bluefur! Snowfur! Bluefur! Snowfur!”
Snowfur pressed against her. “We’re warriors!” she whispered excitedly.
Happiness flamed like a shooting star inside Bluefur. She looked around the Clan at the familiar faces, proud to be part of them, warmed by the kindness shining in their eyes. Stormtail stood up beside Dappletail, and lifting his chin, he called his daughters’ names loudly to the darkening sky.
He’s telling Moonflower. The thought stuck Bluefur’s heart like a honeyed thorn, soothing yet painful. If only Moonflower had been among her Clanmates to watch this moment.
But she is among her Clanmates. In StarClan.
The newleaf evening was warm, and the camp was filled with birdsong, as though even the birds were thankful for the warmth and new life that had sprung in the forest. The fresh scent of prey and new growth swirled on the breeze.
“In the tradition of our ancestors, Snowfur and Bluefur will sit vigil until dawn and guard the camp while we sleep,” Pinestar announced.
Bluefur dipped her head. As the Clan began to melt away into their dens, she noticed with relief that Weedwhisker was beginning to fatten up. He and Leopardfoot were always first at the fresh-kill pile now that it was rich with prey again.
Leopardfoot had recently moved into the nursery while she waited to have Pinestar’s kits. It turned out that she hadn’t been eating extra prey to get fat after all. She took White-eye with her for company and to help chase away the chill that had crept into the bramble den, which had been empty for so long. The whole Clan was pleased that new kits were only a moon away.
“It just doesn’t feel right when you can get all the way to the dirtplace without tripping over a kit or two,” Larksong had commented earlier.
Even Mumblefoot was looking forward to kits. “It’s been moons since anyone attacked my tail,” he’d rasped wistfully.
As the night seeped in, the clearing emptied out until only Bluefur and Snowfur were left alone in the dark. Silently they sat, Snowfur scanning the camp—eyes and body alert, clearly taking her oath to guard her Clanmates very seriously—while Bluefur gazed up at Silverpelt, wondering which of the countless stars was Moonflower.
By the time dawn began to pale the sky, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Her body was stiff from sitting so long. The lichen at the entrance to Pinestar’s den twitched, and the ThunderClan leader padded out. He glanced at the sky, washed pink by pale sunshine.
“Get some sleep,” he meowed softly as he passed Bluefur and Snowfur.
Relieved, Bluefur stretched.
Snowfur yawned. “Where’s he off to so early?” she wondered as Pinestar slipped out the camp tunnel.
“It’s newleaf,” Bluefur replied. “I guess even leaders enjoy a little dawn hunting once the prey starts to run.”
Out of habit, she turned her paws toward the apprentices’ den. Teeth nipped her tail gently.
“Hey, mouse-brain!” Snowfur purred. “We sleep here now.” She jerked her head toward the warriors’ den.
Of course! Would nests be waiting for them? Suddenly nervous, Bluefur followed Snowfur under the low branch at the entrance and padded into the den. She blinked to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. The low roof made the den seem small, though it was broader than the apprentices’ den. Nests circled the central trunk and spiraled out to the edge. Sunfall, Stormtail, and Adderfang were curled in moss-lined scoops at the center, while Patchpelt and Thrushpelt slept farther out.
Bluefur guessed that, as the newest warriors, their nests would be near the outer branches. But where? “Can you see any spaces?” she breathed in Snowfur’s ear.
“Over here!” Patchpelt raised his head and hissed across the den.
Carefully Bluefur picked her way around the sleeping warriors, her heart in her throat in case she stepped on a tail or a paw or rustled bracken and woke someone.
“You can have Leopardfoot’s and White-eye’s.” Patchpelt nodded toward the two empty nests beside his.
The bracken was as flat as a Thunderpath rabbit, and the moss smelled damp and stale when Bluefur leaned down to sniff it. But she didn’t care. Right now she was so tired and cold that she’d be happy to sleep anywhere. “Sleep well, Snowfur.” She relished using her sister’s warrior name. They could be friends again now that they had left the apprentices’ den—and Thistlepaw—behind them. They’d hunt together, patrol the borders to check for scent marks and invaders, and never, ever be closer to another cat.