She pictured going to Sunstar and Tawnyspots and telling them about Thistleclaw’s visits to the Dark Forest. Would they even believe her? And what could they do? No cat could guard another in his sleep. There was no way to stop Thistleclaw from pursuing his murderous path; but there was something Spottedpaw could do to help her Clanmates.
The other nests in the den were empty and Spottedpaw guessed her denmates were on the dawn patrol. She pushed her way out through the brambles and almost collided with Stormtail, who was being propped up by Bluefur.
“I’m taking him to the dirtplace,” Bluefur explained.
Stormtail focused his gaze on Spottedpaw. “Thank you,” he rasped. “Featherwhisker says I would have died if you hadn’t found me.”
Spottedpaw dipped her head.
Stormtail shifted his weight from Bluefur’s shoulder. “I’m not so feeble that my own daughter has to watch me make dirt,” he grunted. He limped away.
Bluefur looked at Spottedpaw. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday,” she meowed. “I should have seen that Stormtail was sick.”
Spottedpaw twitched her ears. “I made a lucky guess,” she mewed with a shrug.
“No, you didn’t. You’re very smart, Spottedpaw. You always see so much.”
Too much, thought Spottedpaw, picturing the old cat fading away in the Dark Forest.
Bluefur stared at the bushes that shielded the dirtplace. The leaves were still trembling from where Stormtail had pushed through. “I’ve lost my mother and my sister,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear to lose my father as well.”
There was so much sadness in her voice that Spottedpaw wanted to press her cheek against Bluefur’s muzzle and promise she would never leave her. Instead, she meowed, “You are a ThunderClan warrior. You will never be alone.”
Bluefur nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Spottedpaw. Take care of yourself. There are difficult times ahead for us, I can feel it.”
Spottedpaw opened her mouth to ask what Bluefur meant. But Stormtail was emerging from the bushes and Bluefur trotted to meet him, her tail kinked high over her back. Spottedpaw watched the gray she-cat, wondering if her dreams were also filled with the sounds of screeching, clawing cats.
If Thistleclaw achieved his ambition to become Clan leader, so many blood-soaked battles lay ahead. There would be so many injures, so many lives lost. For what? A moment of victory, until the next time warrior was pitched against warrior?
These were not the kind of battles Spottedpaw had trained to fight. Her destiny lay on a different path.
She marched through the ferns to Featherwhisker’s den. The medicine cat was at the mouth of the cleft in the rock, laying out some herbs to dry in the sun. He pricked his ears when he saw Spottedpaw.
“Can I help you?” he mewed.
“Yes,” she replied. “I want to become your apprentice.”
Chapter Nine
“From this moment, you will be known as Tigerclaw. ThunderClan honors your courage and your skill at fighting, and we welcome you as a warrior. May StarClan light your path, always.” Sunstar bowed his head to the dark tabby tom and stepped back. His paws left sharp black prints on the light dusting of snow, and his fur was speckled with white flakes.
“Tigerclaw! Whitestorm!” yowled the Clan.
Tigerclaw lifted his head and stared around at his Clanmates as they filled the ravine with the names of the new warriors. Beside him, Whitestorm’s eyes shone.
“Snowfur would be so proud of him,” Spottedpaw heard Bluefur meow.
“Not so many moons until you’ll be watching your own kits become warriors,” commented Poppydawn with a pointed glance at Bluefur’s rounded belly, clearly visible under her thick fur.
“But will we know who the father is by then?” whispered Rosetail.
“Surely it’s Thrushpelt?” hissed Fuzzypelt.
“I can’t see who else it would be,” Rosetail agreed, keeping her voice low. “But do you ever see the two of them together?”
Spottedpaw looked across the clearing at her former mentor. She knew he had always been fond of Bluefur, enough that she thought they might become mates. Spottedpaw felt a pang of regret that she had denied Thrushpelt the chance to watch her become a warrior. He had been a good mentor. But it would be a long time before Spottedpaw received her medicine cat name. There was so much to learn from Featherwhisker, more than could be fitted into six moons, or even a lifetime.
Her fur tingled, and she knew Thistleclaw was watching her. She stiffened, refusing to meet his gaze. Every cat knew he planned to become deputy after Tawnyspots. The gray tabby tom was well liked but it was no secret that he was becoming too frail to succeed Sunstar as leader. He would retire to the elders’ den and Sunstar would choose another deputy before reaching his ninth life. Thistleclaw was the obvious choice, and he had already started to organize the patrols when Tawnyspots was too weak to leave his nest.
Only Spottedpaw knew what kind of leader Thistleclaw would be once he had clawed his way to power. Her heart had not turned to stone, however. It still hurt to look at him, especially when she glimpsed him being gentle or playful, and she recalled the cat she had once loved. But she had made her choice, and there was no turning back. My heart is no longer foolish, she told herself.
Paw steps crunched over the snow behind her, and Featherwhisker murmured, “Time to get back to the den, Spottedpaw. I’d like you to empty the store completely so we can see what herbs we have to last us until the end of leaf-bare.”
Shivering, Spottedpaw followed her mentor through the frost-nipped ferns. Every day seemed colder than the last, and the sky was a dull shade of yellow, promising more snow.
“Kits are always welcome,” Featherwhisker meowed as they settled down in the shelter of the cave. “But great StarClan, couldn’t White-eye and Bluefur have waited until newleaf? I don’t know if I have enough milk thistle for another nursing queen.”
White-eye had kitted two moons ago, when the days were still warmed by a generous leaf-fall sun. Mousekit and Runningkit had grown quickly, and were strong enough to see through the cold weather now. But Bluefur’s kits would face a much tougher fight, and Spottedpaw had been gathering feathers from every bird on the fresh-kill pile to line the nest in the nursery.
“Don’t worry, they’ll have the whole Clan looking after them when they arrive,” Featherwhisker purred as if he could see into Spottedpaw’s thoughts. “ThunderClan never gives up its kits easily.”
“Get your paws off!” Bluefur hissed as her belly rippled under Spottedpaw’s forelegs.
Spottedpaw sprang back as if she had been bitten, almost colliding with Featherwhisker, who was crouched just behind her.
“Sorry,” Bluefur grunted. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”
“Did I hurt you?” Spottedpaw mewed.
Featherwhisker touched her flank with the tip of his tail. “No. Queens can be a bit crabby when kitting.” He glanced sideways at Bluefur. “Some are crabbier than others.”
“You’d be crabby if you’d been kitting since dawn!” Bluefur retorted, then winced as another spasm wracked her body.
“Is she all right?” White-eye called anxiously from the other side of the nursery.
“She’s fine,” Spottedpaw replied. Though it would be easier if there weren’t so many cats in here! Mousekit and Runningkit were staring huge-eyed from their nest, as if they couldn’t believe they had joined the Clan the same way. Spottedpaw tried to shift in front of them so that Bluefur had more privacy.