But the RiverClan leader just stared, opening his mouth to scent the air. “I smell fear,” he snarled.
“Then it comes from your own warriors,” Sunstar countered.
“You actually expect us to give up Sunningrocks?” Hailstar hissed.
Sunstar shook his head. “I expect you to fight for them,” he meowed. “Even though you will waste warriors and blood. You will lose, and it will be thanks to your decision.”
Hailstar took a step toward the ThunderClan leader. “RiverClan warriors fight with claws, not words.”
“Very well.” Sunstar nodded. “Sunningrocks are ours. We will set the new markers tomorrow. After that, any RiverClan cat found there will face a fight that he will not win.” He gazed around the camp and raised his voice. “Let all RiverClan know that the warning has been given. Any blood spilled now will be on Hailstar’s paws.” He turned and headed for the entrance.
“Is that it?” Thrushpelt whispered.
“I think that was plenty!” Bluefur was impressed by her leader’s strategy. He’d openly dared RiverClan to fight, yet made it look like their choice. Now all they could do was wait and see how RiverClan reacted when they set the new markers. Would ThunderClan find an ambush waiting, or would RiverClan decide it wasn’t a battle worth fighting?
RiverClan growls followed them out of the camp.
Then paws pounded from the entrance.
Had RiverClan decided to fight after all? The ThunderClan patrol spun around, ready to defend themselves.
Ottersplash faced them, with Timberfur and Owlfur behind her. “We’ll escort you to the border,” she growled.
“Thank you.” Sunstar dipped his head.
“We’re only making sure you go back to your own territory,” Owlfur spat.
Bluefur’s pelt suddenly pricked. Someone was watching her. She turned to see Oakheart padding from a reed bed with a fish dangling in his jaws. He dropped it and stared at the cats. “What’s going on?”
“ThunderClan has been making threats,” Owlfur growled.
Oakheart’s gaze met Bluefur’s, alarmed. “Is there going to be a battle?”
Sunstar flicked his tail. “We were trying to avoid one.”
Owlfur stepped forward. “Go home,” he advised darkly.
“Very well.” Sunstar nodded and headed away through the rushes.
Oakheart tagged onto their escort and Bluefur was acutely aware of him—his scent, the sound of his paw steps—as he followed them along the twisting path to the stepping-stones. When Owlfur quickened his pace to take the lead, Oakheart fell in beside Bluefur.
“I must talk to you,” he hissed in her ear. “Make an excuse.” He dropped back with a flick of his fox-colored tail.
Bluefur twitched her ears. How could she get away from her patrol? Why should she? But the urgency in Oakheart’s voice nagged at her. She had to know what he wanted.
“Ow!” She started to limp.
Thrushpelt whipped his head around. “Are you okay?”
“Thorn in my paw,” Bluefur complained. “I need to get it out.”
“I’ll help,” Thrushpelt offered.
Oakheart growled. “You keep with the others. I’ll help her.” He glared at Thrushpelt, who hesitated for a heartbeat before backing away.
“Don’t be long,” he called to Bluefur. “Or I’ll come back for you.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” Bluefur promised.
As soon as her Clanmates had disappeared around the corner with their RiverClan escort, Oakheart faced her. “Thanks,” he breathed. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” Bluefur was mystified. She shook her head, as though shaking would clear it. There was something about this warrior’s presence that made her feel dazed and fuzzyheaded.
“I haven’t seen you in moons!” Oakheart exclaimed.
Bluefur tipped her head to one side. “Why should you? We live in different Clans.”
Oakheart shifted his paws, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted out. “Ever since last leaf-bare when we talked near the river.”
Bluefur backed away. “But that was ages ago! And you don’t even know me!”
“I want to know you,” he insisted. “Everything about you—your favorite fresh-kill, your earliest memory, what you dream of…”
Bluefur’s heart twisted. I don’t have time for this! “You can’t!” she gasped. “The warrior code!”
Oakheart impatiently shook his head. “This isn’t about the code. This is about us. Meet me tomorrow at moonhigh at Fourtrees.”
“I can’t!” Bluefur protested.
“Just meet me,” Oakheart begged. “Give me a chance!” His green eyes were round and pleading.
“Bluefur?” Thrushpelt appeared around the corner with Ottersplash.
“Are you leaving our territory or not?” growled the white-and-ginger she-cat.
“Yes,” Bluefur croaked. She hurried to join Thrushpelt.
He bent down and touched her ear with his muzzle. “Are you okay?”
Bluefur stiffened. Had he heard anything?
“Your paw?” Thrushpelt prompted. “The thorn?”
“Oh! Oh, yes,” Bluefur mewed. “I got it out. It’s fine.”
As she crossed the stepping-stones, she felt sure Oakheart was looking at her. Her pelt burned. He was watching. She knew it. But she didn’t look back.
Chapter 35
Give me a chance!
Bluefur woke with a start. Oakheart’s gaze was burned in her memory.
A chance for what?
She didn’t need to ask. She knew. The intensity in his mew, the desperation in his eyes. Seeing his longing was like looking at a reflection of her heart. She felt the same tug. The same longing to be close.
But how could they be together? They were from different Clans! They shouldn’t feel this way.
Groggily Bluefur floundered out of her nest and stumbled from the den. The rain clouds had cleared, leaving behind a pale leaf-fall sky. Dawn was breaking over the camp, sending yellow light spilling across the clearing. Cold air nipped Bluefur’s nose and her paws.
Tigerclaw pushed past her, heading for Highrock where Tawnyspots was organizing the day’s duties. “Are you coming, Bluefur?” the dark warrior called over his shoulder.
Lionheart and Whitestorm were already waiting in the shadow of the rock. Stonepelt watched from the fallen tree, as though he still missed his life as a warrior, though it had ended many seasons ago. Dappletail and Stormtail shared fresh-kill nearby, while Sparrowpelt and Adderfang paced restlessly, their pelts fluffed against the chill. Their apprentices, Redpaw and Willowpaw, practiced battle moves at the edge of the clearing.
“Spottedpaw!” Thrushpelt called down the fern tunnel to his apprentice. “Stop bothering Featherwhisker! Come and see what your duties are for the day.”
“Sorry.” Spottedpaw hurried out with flecks of herbs on her paws. “I was just helping him mix comfrey.”
Thrushpelt rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to be training as a warrior. There are enough medicine cats in this Clan already.”
“Hi, Bluefur!” Frostpaw bounced out of the apprentices’ den. “What are we doing today?”
Bluefur hadn’t planned the day’s training yet. Her thoughts had been too filled with Oakheart. “Hunting,” she meowed, saying the first thing that came into her head.
“Okay.” Frostpaw sounded satisfied.
“We must increase our hunting patrols,” Tawnyspots announced. “Cold weather will mean hunger, and we’ll face it better if we feed well now.”