Tawnyspots flicked his tail—Bluefur saw pain flash in his eyes—as his Clanmates yowled his name.
“Tawnyspots! Tawnyspots!” Rosetail’s voice rose above the others as she cheered her old mentor. Thistleclaw lifted his muzzle and growled Tawnyspots’s name; Bluefur flinched when she thought about how Thistleclaw must feel about not taking the deputy’s place.
“Bluefur.” Sunstar touched his tail to her shoulders. “You will be ThunderClan deputy from this day forward. May StarClan grant you the courage to help your Clan face whatever lies in its path. And when the time comes for you to take my place, I pray you will shine at the head of our Clan.”
“Bluefur! Bluefur!”
She felt the pale sun warm her pelt and breathed in the scents of the forest, her home. And now her territory, even more than before.
Whitestorm cheered her, pride singing in his yowl. But Thistleclaw drowned him out with a yowl that reached for StarClan. Bluefur shifted her paws. The warrior’s eyes were gleaming with fury, and she guessed his loud call was just a trick to fool the Clan into believing the new deputy had his full support.
If only they had seen him as she had, with his claws at Oakheart’s throat, goading Tigerclaw on to savage a helpless kit, pacing the borders with wild-eyed hunger for revenge. The memories gave Bluefur strength. Whatever it had cost her, she was the only cat who could stand in Thistleclaw’s way. Only she knew what he was capable of.
For the first time in moons, there was enough fresh-kill for a feast. Early newleaf had brought mice from their holes and birds from their secluded leaf-bare nests. As the Clan cats shared what they had, Sunstar beckoned Bluefur to his den.
“I know I’ve made the right choice.” Sunstar swished through the lichen and sat down, a silhouette in the shadowy den. “You still have a lot to learn, but I’m looking forward to mentoring you again.”
Bluefur dipped her head. “I’m ready to learn.”
The Clan leader shook his head. “We must work together if we are to guide the Clan well. Never be afraid of sharing your worries with me. I trust your judgment and will listen to whatever you have to say.”
“Then I can voice my fears about Thistleclaw?” Bluefur risked, with a quick glance at him.
Sunstar nodded. “I share them, believe me. But I believe that he is also a loyal and useful warrior, and we should be proud to have him in our Clan.” The ThunderClan leader glanced at his paws. “While we’re being honest, there is something else you should know. A secret only Featherwhisker and I share.”
Bluefur narrowed her eyes. So she wasn’t the only cat in ThunderClan with secrets.
“I have just three lives left, not four,” Sunstar confessed.
Bluefur blinked. “How did you lose the extra one?” And why keep it a secret?
“I didn’t. It was never given to me. When Pinestar left, he still had one life as the leader of this Clan. StarClan counted this life against mine. They gave me only eight because Pinestar kept his ninth.”
Bluefur understood. “And you kept it a secret in case the Clan thought you did not have StarClan’s full blessing.” She tipped her head to one side. “But you can be honest now, surely? You have proved over and over that you are a great leader. What cat would doubt it?”
“A cat with ambition might choose to doubt it.”
He means Thistleclaw. Bluefur returned his steady gaze. “But what about me? I have ambition,” she pointed out.
“Only to serve your Clan,” Sunstar answered. “That is why I chose you. You have suffered much and lost much, and yet you still serve your Clanmates, putting their needs before yours, willing to sacrifice all for the sake of your Clan.”
If only he knew!
“My Clan is all I have now,” Bluefur confessed. “I will give every breath in my body to serve it.” Regret tugged in her belly.
But I am fire. And this is the path I must follow.
Chapter 43
“Come!” Featherwhisker called softly from the shadows inside Mothermouth.
Bluefur breathed the cold, mineral air flooding from the dark opening. It reminded her of her trip there many seasons before, with Pinestar. Now she had come to receive her nine lives. When she returned to her Clan she would be Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan.
She remembered Sunstar’s death with a pang. Weakened by illness, he’d been unable to outrun a Twoleg dog that was roaming loose in the forest. It had killed him before the patrol could drive it off. Bluefur mourned his loss deeply, regretting that he had not been able to share words with her before dying. But she took comfort in knowing that he had never wanted to suffer a slow death as Tawnyspots had, joining StarClan only after days of agony that even Featherwhisker’s herbs could not ease.
Featherwhisker led her down to the cave of the Moonstone. The darkness pressing around her still made Bluefur uncomfortable. It felt as though she were drowning in thick black water that she could taste but not feel. At the end of the tunnel, the cave was filled with shadows. Watery starlight filtered through the hole in the roof, scarcely penetrating the dark.
“Not long till moonhigh,” Featherwhisker promised.
Bluefur padded across the rough cave floor and lay at the foot of the Moonstone. It stood solid and dull in the center of the cave, untouched by moonlight. But as Bluefur rested her nose between her paws, the moon began to slip across the hole in the arching roof and the crystals began to shimmer like tiny trapped suns.
Dazzled, Bluefur flinched away.
“Press your nose against it,” Featherwhisker urged.
Screwing up her eyes, Bluefur leaned forward and touched the Moonstone. It was cold and smelled of darkness and old, old rock. Instantly the cave rushed away and Bluefur felt herself being swept through blackness, darker than night, tossed and swirled on an invisible river. Panic seized her and she struggled, flailing her paws, until suddenly she felt soft grass beneath them.
Blinking open her eyes, she saw the Great Rock rising above her and the four great oaks marking each corner of the clearing. She was at Fourtrees. Alone. She glanced up at the crow-black sky, speckled with stars.
Why were there no cats there to receive her? Didn’t StarClan want her to be the leader of ThunderClan? Perhaps the sacrifices she’d made were unforgivable.
Then the stars began to swirl like leaves caught in an eddy. They gathered speed until they blurred together in a silvery spiral, down, down, down toward the forest, toward Fourtrees, toward her.
Bluefur waited, her heart in her throat.
The spiral of starlight slowed, and the cats of StarClan stalked from the sky. Frost sparkled at their paws and glittered in their eyes. Their pelts shone like ice, and they carried the scent of all the seasons on their fur: the tang of leaf-bare snow mingled with the green scent of newleaf, the musk of leaf-fall, and the sweet blossom of greenleaf.
Countless cats lined the hollow—bodies shimmering, eyes blazing—and filled the slopes in silence. Bluefur crouched at the center. She forced herself to lift her head and look at the cats, and stretched her eyes wide when she realized that some faces were familiar. She recognized Mumblefoot and Weedwhisker, and beside them Larksong, who looked pleased to be with her denmates again. Goosefeather was with them; he’d died exactly as he’d predicted, on the first snow of leaf-bare.
And Pinestar! StarClan had accepted him after his ninth life, despite his betrayal. Bluefur felt a rush of joy to see the red-brown warrior sitting among his Clan, where he truly belonged. She met his eyes, and he nodded.
There were several cats Bluefur wanted to see more than any others. First she searched the ranks for a splash of white pelt. Snowfur! Her starry pelt dazzling, she gazed at Bluefur, eyes sparking with pride. Then a warm, familiar scent bathed Bluefur’s tongue. Moonflower was next to Snowfur, with her tail tucked over her paws, and pressed close to her pelt was Mosskit.