They’ll be safe with Oakheart.
The thought wasn’t enough to ease her grief.
Was Mosskit watching from StarClan, hating Bluefur for stealing her life? Had Snowfur explained that her life had been sacrificed for the good of her Clan?
“Bluefur.” Adderfang rested his tail on her shoulder and repeated his question. “Do you feel up to hunting?”
“I’ll hunt with you, if you like.” Thrushpelt hurried to join her. Sadness shadowed his gaze. He was grieving as a father would grieve. He’d worked harder than any other cat to reinforce the nursery, and his pelt was still tufted and scratched from the brambles he’d woven tightly into the branches. Bluefur wished she could tell him that two kits lived on, safe and cherished, across the river.
She shrugged off Adderfang’s tail. “I’d rather hunt alone.”
Adderfang nodded. “As you wish.”
Thrushpelt turned away, his eyes clouding.
“Bluefur!” Rosetail caught up to her, pressing close as she padded toward the tunnel. “Are you going to be all right?”
No! Nothing will ever be all right ever again. Bluefur longed to curl up against her friend’s warm fur and go to sleep for a moon. “I’ll be fine,” she replied, feeling hollow.
She scrambled up the side of the ravine and headed into the forest. As the Owl Tree came into view, a squirrel darted across her path. She froze, her paws burning with cold on the ice-hardened forest floor. The squirrel had a nut in its jaws and was scrabbling among the roots of an oak. Bluefur dropped into a hunting crouch, tail straight, belly lifted from the forest floor.
Stonekit. Did he still remember his ThunderClan hunting crouch?
Pushing away the thought, she thrust down with her hind paws and sprang, landing squarely and killing the squirrel with a single bite.
“Nice catch.”
Goosefeather’s rasping mew made her whip around. The squirrel swung from her jaws.
She dropped it. “What are you doing here?” The elders rarely made it up the ravine.
“I still have legs, you know,” he snapped.
It was jarring to hear a Clanmate speak to her in a voice that wasn’t honeyed with sympathy. She straightened and met his gaze. “What do you want?” Did he have another stupid prophecy to ruin her life?
“You did the right thing.”
His words made her bristle. “For whom?”
“For your Clan.” Goosefeather narrowed his eyes. “The prophecy left no room for kits. You must blaze alone at the head of your Clan.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she hissed. She hated the prophecy and hated Goosefeather for telling her about it.
Goosefeather blinked. “It is not your destiny to feel better, it’s your destiny to save your Clan.”
“And I will,” she growled, her mew as hard as flint. “But I will always regret what I’ve done.”
“The kits were your choice,” Goosefeather pointed out. “StarClan made no provision for them.”
“StarClan made me sacrifice everything I loved.” Bitterness rose like bile in her throat. “My kits—”
Goosefeather cut her off. “They’re alive, aren’t they?”
“Not Mosskit.”
“StarClan will honor her loss.”
“What about my loss?”
“It is small compared with the fate of your Clan.”
Bluefur shook her head, trying to clear it. Was she just being selfish? What was one broken heart compared to the safety of her Clanmates? Where was her loyalty? She dipped her head. “I’ll serve my Clan,” she promised.
“Good.” Goosefeather nodded. “Sunstar wants to talk to you.”
He padded away into the trees.
Bluefur met the ThunderClan leader as he was climbing over the top of the ravine.
“Bluefur.” Sunstar greeted her. “I wanted to talk to you away from the camp.” He headed into the forest. “Walk with me.”
Bluefur fell in beside her old mentor, remembering how he had spoken to her after the death of Moonflower and again when she’d been grieving for Snowfur. “Is this another lecture to tell me to leave the past behind?” she growled.
He shook his head. “It seems you are destined to suffer,” he sighed. Bluefur looked into his eyes and saw how the ThunderClan leader had aged in the last few seasons. Making ThunderClan strong and feared among the other Clans had cost him three lives in battle; sickness had taken another two. Goosefeather had told her to aspire to leadership, but was this how she wanted to spend her days? Fretting and fighting and tired from the weight of responsibility?
I have no choice. StarClan has chosen my path.
The ThunderClan leader ducked under a low-hanging fern. “I can tell you only what I’ve told you before. Life goes on.” They brushed past a bush where tiny green buds had pushed off their brown husks, hazing the branches with green. “Leaf-bare is followed by newleaf and then by greenleaf. The forest doesn’t freeze forever. You must take heart from that, after the loss of your kits. I know that you will be okay—and even stronger than before.”
Would he be so sympathetic if he knew two of them lived on, with RiverClan? The fur pricked along her spine.
“Cold?” Sunstar asked.
“A little.”
They padded farther through the trees. Sunstar seemed to have something on his mind, and Bluefur waited for him to speak first. They jumped over a narrow stream, swift with snowmelt, and pushed through a bramble thicket where the stale scent of rabbit clung to the thorns.
Sunstar led the way through the thicket and held a tendril out of the way with his tail. “Are you ready to take on the deputyship?” he asked.
Bluefur stopped, half under the brambles. This was it. The moment she’d longed for. The reward for what I have given up.
“Tawnyspots won’t get any better,” Sunstar went on. “He’s asked to move to the elders’ den. A new deputy must be found.” He gazed hard into her eyes. “Will you be that deputy?”
Bluefur blinked. “What about Thistleclaw?” She had to know why Sunstar hadn’t chosen the fierce young warrior instead of her. Does he know about the prophecy?
Sunstar stared into the trees. “Thistleclaw would be a popular choice,” he conceded. “No cat can doubt his courage, or his battle skills, or his pride in his Clan. But I don’t want my Clan to be led into endless fighting. Our borders are strong enough without being marked over and over in blood. ThunderClan deserves to live in peace, and I believe you can give it that.”
Bluefur hesitated, her mind swirling with images of her kits, of Oakheart with moonlight on his fur, and of Thistleclaw glistening with blood.
Sunstar repeated his offer. “Are you ready, Bluefur?”
Bluefur nodded. “I’m ready.”
The last melting drifts sparkled in the dying sun, and pink light dappled the clearing. Sunstar stood at the foot of Highrock with Tawnyspots on one side, Bluefur on the other. The ThunderClan deputy’s shoulders were hunched, his haunches drawn in as though in pain. His ribs pushed against his ragged pelt.
Sunstar dipped his head low. “Tawnyspots, ThunderClan thanks you for your loyalty and your courage. You have served your Clan well, and we hope that your days in the elders’ den are peaceful. Your stories and wisdom will still have a place in the Clan, and we will continue to learn from you.”