Bluefur sprang forward to nuzzle her daughter, but a warning glance from Moonflower halted her. Bluefur couldn’t bear to be so near and yet unable to touch the precious kit she’d grieved over for so long. She searched her daughter’s bright blue gaze, looking for reproach, but saw nothing but love. Mosskit was safe with Snowfur and Moonflower. There were no leaf-bare chills to hurt her where she was now.
“Welcome, Bluefur.” One clear mew seemed to ring with every voice she had known and loved.
She dipped her head, her mouth dry.
Pinestar stepped forward and touched his nose to Bluefur’s head. It scorched her fur like frost and flame, but she could not flinch away. Her paws were weighted like stones, her body frozen.
“With this life I give you compassion,” Pinestar murmured. “Judge as much with your heart as with your mind.”
A bolt of energy, fierce as lightning, seared through Bluefur. She stiffened against the pain, but it melted into a soft warmth that filled her from nose to tail-tip. She was left trembling as the warmth drained from her, and she braced herself for the next one.
As Pinestar turned away, another cat rose from the ranks of StarClan. Mumblefoot. He pressed his nose to her head. “With this life I give you endurance. Use it to keep going, even when you feel as though all hope and strength have left you.”
Her body was seized by a dull agony that stiffened her muscles and made her clench her jaw. “Endure it,” Mumblefoot whispered to her. “Have faith in your own strength.”
Bluefur let out her breath, and felt the pain ebb away. She felt as if she were plunging out of water, her fur tingling, her paws ready to run all the way back to the forest. Thank you, Mumblefoot.
Larksong was beside her now, touching her nose to Bluefur’s head. “With this life I give you humor. Use it to lighten the burdens of your Clan and to lift the spirits of your Clanmates when despair threatens.”
Something dazzling and flickering passed through her, making every hair on her pelt stand on end. “You will know when to use humor to help you,” Larksong told her, and Bluefur blinked gratefully.
Another cat was weaving through the ranks and toward her, a familiar face she hadn’t spotted before.
Sweetpaw!
The apprentice’s eyes shone like stars. Bluefur wanted to greet her but she couldn’t move or speak. Her heart ached with joy as Sweetpaw stretched up to rest her muzzle on the top of Bluefur’s head. “With this life I give you hope,” she announced solemnly. “Even on the darkest night, it will be there, waiting for you.”
Energy fired through Bluefur. She was running through the forest, her paws skimming the ground, with a bright light shining ahead of her. Is that hope? I will never lose sight of it, I promise.
Sweetpaw padded away, and Sunstar took her place. “With this life, I give you courage. You will know how to use it.” His gaze, filled with warmth and gratitude, locked with hers, and Bluefur felt satisfaction shimmer through her body, knowing she had served him well.
“With this life I give you patience.” It was Goosefeather’s turn. His gaze was lucid, his voice gentle. “You will need it.” As his nose brushed against her ears, peace flooded through her. Everything would happen in its turn; she just had to be ready to embrace it. Was this why Goosefeather had so rarely talked about the prophecy while she was growing up? Even after her kits were born, had he known everything would turn out as it should?
Which cat would give her a seventh life? She scanned the ranks and purred when she saw that Mosskit was padding forward, her tiny paws sending up sparks of starlight where they touched the ground. She had to rear up on her hind paws to touch Bluefur’s head. “With this life I give you trust. Believe in your Clan and in yourself. Never doubt that you know the right path to take.”
“Mosskit.” Bluefur managed to find her voice. “I…I’m so sorry.”
“I understand,” Mosskit mewed simply. “But I miss you.”
Moonflower came next. Bluefur’s heart ached as she felt her mother’s nose touch her head as gently as she’d done when she had lived. “With this life I give you love. Cherish your Clan as you cherished your kits, for now they all are your kin.”
The anxious faces of her Clanmates swarmed through Bluefur’s mind, and her body suddenly felt as if it were being crushed beneath the Moonstone. Bluefur fought for breath, feeling suffocated until light seemed to explode from her heart, spreading through her body and burning behind her eyes. It left her gasping, trembling on her paws.
Bluefur knew that her last life would come from Snowfur. Her sister had watched the ceremony through gentle, glowing eyes. Now she stepped forward.
“You have sacrificed so much,” Snowfur meowed. “And our Clan walks a safer path now.” Bluefur felt her breath stir her fur as her sister touched her head and went on. “With this life I give you pride, so that you may know your own worth and the worth of your Clan.”
Heat seared Bluefur’s pelt, until she glanced down at her body, convinced she must be on fire. It vanished with a hiss. Would she ever have that much faith in herself?
“Thank you for raising Whitestorm,” her sister purred. “It was easier to leave him, knowing he had you. Use all your nine lives for your Clan. We will be with you at every step. If you need us, we will come. You were chosen long ago, and StarClan has never regretted its choice.”
Chapter 44
StarClan has never regretted its choice.
Snowfur’s words echoed in Bluestar’s ears. Many moons had passed since her naming ceremony. Bluestar had led her Clan through countless seasons, good and bad. She sat on Highrock, letting the newleaf sunshine dapple her pelt. The stone beneath her felt cold, and even the sun seemed unable to soften the chill beneath her pelt. Leaf-bare had been reluctant to loosen its grip on the forest, and prey was still scarce. Even Whitestorm looked bony underneath his thick pelt as he stretched beside the nettle patch. Lionheart sat beside him, wolfing down a scrawny shrew.
Dustpaw, Sandpaw, and Graypaw were play fighting, chasing one another’s tails and bundling one another around the clearing.
Redtail, the ThunderClan deputy, sat beside Bluestar. “I bet they call that training,” he meowed, flicking his tail toward the apprentices.
A fourth apprentice, Ravenpaw, was stripping a leaf from its stem, concentrating hard. He carefully ran his claw around the stalk, unaware that Dustpaw was creeping up behind him.
Dustpaw pounced, landing neatly on Ravenpaw’s tail. Shocked, the little black tom leaped into the air.
Bluestar shook her head. Ravenpaw had been nervous from the day he was born. It had taken his mother nearly half a moon to coax him out of the nursery. Bluestar hoped that, by giving him Tigerclaw as a mentor, the young cat would learn to have courage from the fearless warrior.
“Do you remember your first moon of training?” Redtail asked.
Bluestar nodded, sighing as memories warmed her heart. She had played like this with Snowfur and Leopardfoot. Both walked now with StarClan. So many familiar faces had gone: Stormtail, Swiftbreeze, Thrushpelt, Poppydawn, at a time when the Clan was hungrier than it had ever been. Even Thistleclaw.
The spike-furred warrior had died just a few moons earlier, chasing RiverClan invaders out of the territory. He had died as he lived, claws unsheathed, hungry for a fight, and his Clanmates had found him in a pool of blood, like the one Bluestar had seen staining the snow so many moons ago.