Whitestorm carried the sparrow to the nursery entrance and laid it at White-eye’s paws. The half-sighted queen glanced at Bluefur. “You have first bite,” she offered.
Gratefully Bluefur bit into the sparrow. She’d been hungry for days, and she knew from the way her kits paddled their little feet against her belly that she wasn’t producing enough milk for them. She wrinkled her nose as she tasted the dry flesh, stiff and sour as bark.
Featherwhisker wove his way through the drifts from the fallen tree, the branches dropping snow on his pelt. “Is that fresh-kill?” he called. He stared, disappointed, at the half-chewed sparrow. “The elders are starving,” he sighed.
“They can have a bite of this,” White-eye offered.
Featherwhisker shook his head.
“What about Tawnyspots?” Bluefur suggested. “He needs to keep his strength up.” The ThunderClan deputy no longer even left the medicine clearing to use the dirtplace.
She picked up the sparrow, ready to take it to him. Featherwhisker stopped her with a paw. “He won’t eat it,” he murmured. “He hasn’t been able to keep anything down for days.”
Bluefur froze. “Is he dying?”
Featherwhisker steadily met her gaze. “He’s not getting better.”
Bluefur hardly heard him. She was staring at Thistleclaw. The dark brown warrior was watching Featherwhisker with pricked ears. His eyes gleamed.
Bluefur blinked. Thistleclaw’s spiky pelt was glistening. Was he wet? Something dark and sticky was flowing down his pelt.
Blood!
Thistleclaw was drenched with blood. It oozed from his fur and dripped from his whiskers, staining the snow around him scarlet.
Horrified, Bluefur backed away.
“What is it?” Featherwhisker mewed. “Bluefur?”
When she felt the medicine cat’s tail touch her shoulder, Bluefur blinked and the blood disappeared. Thistleclaw was glaring at her, his tabby pelt once more brown and tufty.
She caught Goosefeather’s eye, and he nodded. He’d seen it too. A vision of ThunderClan’s path if Thistleclaw was to lead them.
Shaking, Bluefur stared at her kits. How could I give you up?
“I’m hungry!” Mistykit complained, trotting up with her tail sticking out.
“Let’s go inside.” The words stuck in Bluefur’s throat. I have no choice. I have to save my Clan.
A full moon hung above Fourtrees. The clouds had cleared though snow still smothered the forest.
The Gathering had begun.
Bluefur stared around the clearing, blind to the cats mingling around her. She saw the roots where she made a nest with Oakheart; the branches they had climbed to look at the sky. She wished she were high up there now, closer to the stars than to the problems of her Clan, far from the grief that tore at her heart.
Stop it! There was no time to indulge in sadness or memories. She searched the pelts streaming around her. Where are you, Oakheart? Please be here.
The hollow was noisy, full of chatter, swirling with cats. Sunstar had let her come to the Gathering even though she was a nursing queen; she wondered if something in her eyes had persuaded him. She pictured her kits now, safe and warm beside White-eye’s belly.
Oakheart!
She spotted his tawny pelt swimming through the crowd. Shouldering her way through a cluster of ShadowClan warriors, she headed for him, keeping her gaze fixed on his pelt in case she lost sight of him.
“Oakheart,” she hissed as soon as he was close enough to hear.
He spun around, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.
“We need to talk.”
He nodded and darted away, beckoning Bluefur with his tail. She followed as he weaved out of the crowd and slid behind one of the great oaks.
“I heard about the kits,” he whispered. “How are they? What do they look like?” His eyes were glowing with pride and, for a moment, Bluefur forgot what she had come to tell him. If only he could see their kits, curled like sleepy dormice in the nursery.
“They’re beautiful,” she breathed. “I named them Stonekit, Mistykit, and Mosskit.”
Oakheart sighed and sat down. “I wish I could see them.”
“You can.” Bluefur stiffened. “I can’t keep them.”
“What?” Oakheart stared at her in disbelief.
“My Clan needs me more.”
“I—I don’t understand.” His mouth hung open.
He thinks I’m heartless. Bluefur shut her eyes for a moment, looking for the fire that burned inside her. Then she looked at the cat that had once been her mate. “Our kits are lucky,” she meowed. “They have both you and me to protect them. ThunderClan has only me.”
“What are you asking me?” Oakheart growled.
“You have to take them. I’ll bring them to Sunningrocks tomorrow night.”
Oakheart narrowed his eyes. “If I take them, they’ll be raised as RiverClan warriors,” he warned. “For their own sakes, they will never know that you were their mother.”
“I understand,” Bluefur whispered. Would her kits forget her so easily? How could she let them grow up without her? She had to—or they would drown in blood with their Clanmates when Thistleclaw came to power. She blinked and turned to walk away. She had to trust in StarClan. And in Oakheart.
His paw tugged her pelt.
“Bluefur?”
“What?” She turned on him, eyes fiery as she fought to stay strong.
“This isn’t like you,” he murmured. “I can see how much you love our kits. You are a good mother.”
Her voice cracked. “I can’t be what I want to be. I need to be strong as fire. I need to save my Clan.” Grief clouded her gaze, and Oakheart swam in front of her. “It is for the best,” she whispered. “I hope they know that they have been loved. Even if they don’t remember me, I hope they’ll know that.”
Oakheart touched his muzzle to her cheek. “They will know,” he promised. “And…thank you.” The warmth of his breath brought memories surging back until Bluefur couldn’t bear it any longer, and she wrenched herself away. She padded back into the throng of cats, knowing that each paw step took her farther from her kits.
Please, StarClan. Let this truly be the path you wish me to follow.
Chapter 41
“Wake up.” Bluefur kept her voice low so she didn’t disturb White-eye, Mousekit, or Runningkit. “Come on, Mosskit. Open your eyes.” She gently shook her kits one by one and watched as they stretched, trembling, and opened their sleepy eyes.
Stonekit yawned. “Is it dawn?”
“Not yet,” Bluefur murmured. “So we have to be quiet. We don’t want to wake anyone up.”
“What’s the matter?” Mistykit squeaked.
“Hush.” Bluefur looked anxiously at White-eye’s nest. Runningkit was fidgeting in his sleep. She wrapped her tail around her own kits, quieting them until Runningkit lay still, then whispered, “We’re going to play a game, but you have to be very, very quiet.”
Stonekit was wide awake now, blinking in the darkness. “What game?”
“It’s called Secret Escape.” Bluefur made her eyes bright, forcing herself to look excited. She felt as if she were in a dream, and nothing she said or did was really happening.
Mistykit jumped to her paws. “How do we play?”
“It’s an adventure,” Bluefur explained. “We pretend that ShadowClan has invaded the camp. We have to escape without being seen, and meet our Clanmates at Sunningrocks.”
Mosskit stared at her with round, anxious eyes. “We’re leaving the camp?”
Stonekit nudged her. “How else would we get to Sunningrocks, mouse-brain?”