“Of course, Sunstar will have to make a move on Sunningrocks soon.” Thistleclaw had been proclaiming that their new leader should run RiverClan all the way from the ravine, and Bluefur was tired of listening.
“The other Clans are expecting it,” he went on. “They’ll think we’re weak if we let those fish-faces hold on to our territory through leaf-bare.”
Bluefur halted as Thistleclaw disappeared behind a neatly piled stack of wood. She scented squirrel. She crouched with her ears pricked and heard the scampering of tiny paws. She spotted its gray pelt bobbing over the needle-strewn forest floor. Hardly big enough to feed the elders, but the sooner she caught something, the sooner they could return to camp. Only StarClan knew why Sunstar had sent them out alone. Was he hoping Whitekit’s kin might bond while they hunted?
She scowled at the thought and turned her attention to the squirrel.
“Invaders!” Thistleclaw’s yowl sent the squirrel scooting up a tree.
Mouse dung!
Crossly Bluefur bounded onto the pile of cut wood. “What is it?” She peered down at Thistleclaw, who was scanning the woods with his hackles up. When she tasted the air, she could scent nothing but the sour tang of Twolegplace and the kittypet stench that went with it.
Thistleclaw dropped to his belly. “Kittypet invasion,” he hissed. “Follow me.”
Annoyed by his bossiness, Bluefur bounded down the log pile and followed. There was only a slight scent of kittypet—not exactly an invasion. She didn’t see why Thistleclaw was making such a fuss.
“It smells like a kit,” she pointed out.
“Kits turn into cats,” Thistleclaw growled.
“Not in one afternoon.”
He turned on her. “Do you want to share our prey with those spoiled fatties?”
“That’s not what I said,” Bluefur huffed. She sat up. “Let’s get back to hunting.”
But Thistleclaw had already crossed the border and was darting toward a Twoleg fence. He climbed up it and stalked along the top.
“Come back!” Bluefur hissed. “That’s not our territory!”
“There are no kittypet scent markers warning me to keep out,” Thistleclaw spat.
She scooted after him. “Keep your voice down!”
“Are you scared of them?”
“I just don’t see why you need to start a fight!”
Thistleclaw leaped down and faced her. “You know what your problem is, Bluefur? You’re soft. Soft on warriors from other Clans and soft on kittypets. I saw you talking to Oakheart at the Gathering. Do you care about your Clan at all?”
“Of course I do!” Bluefur hissed. How dare he make her defend her loyalty? “And I wasn’t exactly having a friendly chat with Oakheart!”
“Well, I need more proof before I let you near Whitekit.” Thistleclaw headed back into the trees.
Bluefur hurried after. “He’s my kin, too!”
“You weren’t there when he needed you,” Thistleclaw snarled. “I was. Just keep away from him…or I’ll make you.”
Chapter 31
Bluefur curled her lip. “I’d like to see you try,” she growled. Without waiting for his answer, she spun around and raced back through the forest. Thistleclaw could finish the patrol on his own!
“Back so soon?” Sunstar was scrambling to the top of the ravine when she reached it.
Bluefur hadn’t prepared an excuse. She looked at him with her mouth half-open.
“No prey?” Sunstar pressed.
How could she tell him about Thistleclaw’s threat? Who would believe that a loyal warrior would say such a thing to his Clanmate? She hardly believed it herself.
“Prey was poor, so I came back early to spend time with Whitekit.” A lame excuse, but at least it was partly true.
Sunstar tipped his head to one side. “I’m glad,” he meowed. “You’ll be good for him.” He paused. “You seem more like your old self today.”
Do I? She stared at him, hoping it was true.
“Go and see Whitekit,” he told her briskly. “I reckon by the time he makes apprentice, you’ll be ready for an apprentice of your own. Helping raise Whitekit will give you some worthwhile practice.”
“Th-thanks.” Bluefur was caught off guard by the ThunderClan leader’s warmth. She was afraid that she’d done nothing to earn it. She slid her paws over the edge of the ravine and jumped down.
“Next time, though, don’t give up on the prey!” Sunstar called after her.
“I won’t!” she promised.
Whitekit was fast asleep when she squeezed into the nursery.
“He was tired after his feed,” Robinwing apologized. “I think Thistleclaw wore him out.”
Bluefur nuzzled him gently and he rolled in his sleep and rested his small paw against her muzzle. It was as soft as a rabbit tail. Bluefur breathed in the scent of him—so like her sister—and backed out of the nursery.
“How’s the prey running?” Thrushpelt’s mew surprised her.
“Not so good.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Tallpines.”
Thrushpelt glanced past her shoulder at the nursery. “How’s Whitekit?”
“Fine.”
“He’s lucky to have you to watch out for him.”
“I don’t know.” Bluefur looked at her paws. “I’ve not done too great so far.”
“You’ve had a lot to deal with.” His gaze grew soft. “I think you’d make a great mother.”
Bluefur opened her mouth, searching for words, her ears hot. Thrushpelt shifted his paws as though he was regretting what he’d said.
“There’s Rosetail!” Relieved to see her denmate padding past with a vole in her jaws, Bluefur bounded away and fell in beside her.
Rosetail dropped the vole on the fresh-kill pile. “You and Thrushpelt make such a great couple.”
Bluefur backed away. She’d been hoping to escape embarrassment, not make it worse. “He—he’s a good friend,” she blurted. “But we’re not a couple.”
“Really?”
“I’m too busy with Whitekit to worry about stuff like that,” Bluefur mumbled.
“But you must have time to look for a mate, and Thrushpelt is obviously interested in you.”
“Snowfur’s kit is more important,” Bluefur insisted. “Now that he’s got no mother, it’s up to me to look after him.” There was no way she was going to let Thistleclaw be the greatest influence in his life. There was more to being a Clan cat than fighting and chasing off trespassers. That’s what had killed Snowfur.
Rosetail was still chatting. “I’ve just seen Tawnyspots,” she reported. “He’s in the medicine den. Says he’s too sick to eat. Maybe he’ll stop being Clan deputy.”
“What?” Bluefur snapped from her thoughts.
“Sunstar will have to appoint someone else.”
Bluefur blinked. “Stormtail?” The gray warrior would be pleased.
“Or Adderfang?” Rosetail suggested.
Bluefur narrowed her eyes. The deputy needed to have wisdom as well as courage. Not that Adderfang was mouse-brained, but he saw only as far as the battle and never beyond.
“Maybe Thistleclaw.”
Rosetail’s new suggestion made Bluefur gasp. “He’s too young!”
“He says he’s going to be the youngest deputy the Clans have ever seen.”
“No way.”
“He talks about it all the time,” Rosetail meowed. “Deputy!” She snorted. “As if Sunstar would give him the chance to lead us all into battle at the flick of a tail!”
Rigidly keeping her encounter with Thrushpelt out of her mind, Bluefur rummaged through Mumblefoot’s nest and plucked out the last ragged scrap of moss. With no apprentices in the Clan, the younger warriors were taking turns cleaning out the elders’ den. Since Bluefur had returned early from her morning patrol, she had volunteered to see to the elders by herself.