by Erin Hunter
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.”
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.
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.
The Clan was weaker without him, but she did not miss him. Not in the way she missed Thrushpelt. Her faithful old friend had kept her secret till the end, only ever speaking of the lost kits with the fond grief of a father. Bluestar still carried the guilt of never telling him that two of them lived on. He’d know about that now; he’d see them from StarClan. Finally he would understand why she’d watched those two RiverClan cats with such interest, always seeking them out at Gatherings, cheering with such warmth when their warrior names were announced. Mistyfoot and Stonefur had become fine warriors. Oakheart and Graypool had raised them well, and she was very proud of them.