by Erin Hunter
Warrior!
Bluekit wriggled out from under her sister. A newleaf breeze stirred the bramble walls and drifted through the gaps—the same fresh forest smell her father had carried in on his pelt when he’d visited. It chased away the stuffy smell of moss and milk and warm, sleeping fur.
Excitement made Bluekit’s claws twitch. I’m going to be a warrior!
For the first time, she stretched open her eyes, blinking against the shafts of light that pierced the bramble roof. The nursery was huge! In darkness, the den had felt small and cozy, but now she could see the brambles arching high overhead, with tiny patches of blue beyond.
Poppydawn lay on her side near one wall, a dark red tabby with a long bushy tail. Bluekit recognized her because she smelled different from Swiftbreeze and Moonflower. There was no milk scent on her; she didn’t have any kits yet. Swiftbreeze, in a nest beside her, was hardly visible—curled in a tight ball with her nose tucked under her tail, her tabby-and-white pelt blotchy against the bracken underneath.
The most familiar scent of all came from behind. Wriggling around, Bluekit gazed at her mother. Sunshine dappled Moonflower’s silver-gray pelt, rippling over the dark stripes that ran along her flank. Her striped face was narrow, and her ears tapered to gentle points. Do I look like her? Bluekit looked over her shoulder at her own pelt. It was fluffy, not sleek like Moonflower’s, and was dark gray all over, with no stripes. Not yet.
Snowkit, lying stretched on her back, was all white except for her gray ear tips.
“Snowkit!” Bluekit breathed.
“What is it?” Snowkit blinked open her eyes. They were blue.
Are mine blue? Bluekit wondered.
“You’ve opened your eyes!” Snowkit leaped to her paws, wide-awake. “Now we can go out of the nursery!”
Bluekit spotted a hole in the bramble wall, just big enough for two kits to squeeze through. “Patchkit and Leopardkit are already outside. Let’s surprise them!”
Poppydawn raised her head. “Don’t go far,” she murmured sleepily before tucking her nose back under her tail.
“Where are Poppydawn’s kits?” Bluekit whispered.
“They won’t arrive for another two moons,” Snowkit answered.
Arrive? Bluekit tipped her head to one side. Where from?
Snowkit was already heading for the hole, scrambling clumsily over Moonflower. Bluekit tumbled after, her short legs uncertain as she slid down her mother’s back and landed in the soft moss.
The nest rustled and Bluekit felt a soft paw clamp her tail-tip to the ground. “Where do you think you are going?”
Moonflower was awake.
Bluekit turned and blinked at her mother. “Outside.”
Moonflower’s eyes glowed and a loud purr rolled in her throat. “You’ve opened your eyes.” She sounded relieved.
“I decided it was time,” Bluekit replied proudly.
“There, Swiftbreeze.” Moonflower turned, waking the tabby-and-white queen with her satisfied mew. “I told you she’d do it when she was ready.”
Swiftbreeze sat up and gave her paw a lick. “Of course. I was only thinking of my own kits—they opened their eyes sooner.” She swiped her paw across her muzzle, smoothing the fur on her nose.
Moonflower turned back to her kits. “So now you’re going out to see the world?”
“Why not?” Bluekit mewed. “Leopardkit and Patchkit are already out there.”
“Leopardkit and Patchkit are five moons old,” Moonflower told her. “They’re much bigger than you, so they’re allowed to play outside.”
Bluekit opened her eyes very wide. “Is it dangerous?”
Moonflower shook her head. “Not in the camp.”
“Then we can go!”
Moonflower sighed, then leaned down to smooth Bluekit’s fur with her tongue. “I suppose you have to leave the nursery sometime.” She studied Snowkit. “Straighten your whiskers.” Pride lit the queen’s amber gaze. “I want you to look perfect when you meet the Clan.”
Snowkit ran a licked paw over each spray of whiskers.
Bluekit looked up at her mother. “Are you coming with us?”
“Do you want me to?”
Bluekit shook her head. “We’re going to surprise Patchkit and Leopardkit.”
“Your first prey.” Moonflower’s whiskers twitched. “Off you go, then.”
Bluekit bounced around and sprinted for the gap.
“Don’t get under any cat’s paws!” Moonflower called after them as Bluekit barged ahead of her sister and headed through the hole. “And stay together!”
The brambles scraped Bluekit’s pelt as she wriggled out of the nursery. When she tumbled onto the ground beyond, sunshine stung her eyes. She blinked away the glare, and the camp opened out in front of her like a dream. A vast, sandy clearing stretched away to a rock that cast a shadow so long it almost touched her paw tips. Two warriors sat beneath the rock, sharing prey beside a clump of nettles. Beyond them lay a fallen tree, its tangled branches folded on the ground like a heap of skinny, hairless legs. Several tail-lengths away from the nursery a wide, low bush spread its branches over the ground. Ferns crowded a corner at the nursery’s other side, and behind them rose a barrier of gorse so tall that Bluekit had to crane her neck to see the top.
Excitement thrilled through her. This was her territory! Her paws prickled. Would she ever know her way around?
There was no sign of Patchkit or Leopardkit.
“Where’ve they gone?” she called to Snowkit.
Snowkit was staring around the camp. “I don’t know,” she meowed absently. “Look at that prey!” She was staring at a heap of birds and mice at the side of the clearing. It was topped by a fat, fluffy squirrel.
“The fresh-kill pile!” Bluekit bounced toward it, her nose twitching. She’d heard the queens in the nursery talking about prey, and she’d smelled squirrel on her mother’s fur. What would it taste like? Thrusting her nose into the pile, she tried to sink her claws into a small creature with short brown fur and a long, thin tail.
“Watch out!”
Snowkit’s warning came too late. Bluekit’s paws buckled as the plump squirrel rolled off the top of the pile and flattened her. Ooof!
Purrs of amusement erupted from the two warriors beside the nettle patch. “I’ve never seen fresh-kill attack a cat before!” meowed one of them.
“Careful!” warned the other warrior. “All that fluff might choke you!”
Hot with embarrassment, Bluekit wriggled out from under the squirrel and stared fiercely at the warriors. “It just fell on me!” She didn’t want to be remembered as the kit who was jumped on by a dead squirrel.
“Hey, you two!” Bluekit recognized Patchkit from his nursery-scent as he padded out from behind the nursery. “Does your mother know you’re outside?”
“Of course!” Bluekit spun around to see her denmate for the first time.
Oh.
She hadn’t expected Patchkit to be so big. His black-and-white fur was smooth like a warrior’s, and she had to tip her head back to look up at him. She stretched her legs, trying to appear taller.
Leopardkit scampered after her brother, swiping playfully at his tail. Her black coat shone in the sunshine. She stopped and stared in delight when she saw Bluekit and Snowkit. “You’ve opened your eyes!”
Bluekit licked her chest, trying to smooth down her fluffy fur and wishing her pelt were as sleek as theirs.
“We can show you around,” Leopardkit mewed excitedly.
Snowkit bounced around the older kit. “Yes, please!”
Bluekit flicked her tail crossly. She didn’t want to be shown her territory. She wanted to explore it for herself! But Leopardkit was already trotting toward the wide patch of ferns near the gorse barrier. “This is the apprentices’ den,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ll be sleeping there in a moon.”
Snowkit raced after her.
“Are you coming?” Patchkit nudged Bluekit.
Bluekit
was gazing back at the nursery. “Won’t you miss your old nest?” She felt a sudden flicker of anxiety. She liked sleeping next to Moonflower.
“I can’t wait to move into my new den!” Patchkit yowled as he darted toward the apprentices’ den. “It’ll be great to be able to talk without Swiftbreeze telling us to be quiet and go to sleep.”
As Bluekit hurried after him, the ferns trembled and a tortoiseshell face poked out between the green fronds.
“Once you start your training,” yawned the sleepy-looking apprentice, “you’ll be glad to get some sleep.”
“Hello, Dapplepaw!” Patchkit skittered to a halt outside the den as the tortoiseshell she-cat stretched, half in and half out of the bush.
Bluekit stared at Dapplepaw’s pelt, thick and shiny; the muscles on the she-cat’s shoulders rippled as she sprang from the ferns and landed beside Patchkit. Suddenly Bluekit’s denmate didn’t seem so big after all.
“We’re showing Bluekit and Snowkit around the camp,” Leopardkit announced. “It’s their first time out.”
“Don’t forget to show them the dirtplace,” Dapplepaw joked. “Whitepaw was complaining only this morning about cleaning out the nursery. The place has been filled with kits for moons, and there’s more on the way.”
Bluekit lifted her chin. “Snowkit and I can keep our nest clean now,” she declared.
Dapplepaw’s whiskers quivered. “I’ll tell Whitepaw when she gets back from hunting. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear it.”
Is she teasing? Bluekit narrowed her eyes.
“I can’t wait to go hunting!” Patchkit dropped into a crouch, his tail weaving like a snake.
Quick as the wind, Dapplepaw pinned it down with her paw. “Don’t forget to keep your tail still or the prey will hear you swishing up the leaves.”
Patchkit pulled his tail free and straightened it out, flattening it to the ground.
Snowkit stifled a purr. “It sticks out like a twig,” she whispered in Bluekit’s ear.
Bluekit was watching too intently to reply. She studied how Patchkit had pressed his chest to the ground, how he’d unsheathed his claws and tucked his hind paws right under his body. I’m going to be the best hunter ThunderClan has ever seen, she vowed.
“Not bad,” Dapplepaw congratulated Patchkit, then glanced at Leopardkit. “Let’s see your hunting crouch.”
Leopardkit instantly dropped and pressed her belly to the ground.
Bluekit longed to try it, but not until she’d practiced by herself. “Come on, let’s leave them to it,” she whispered to Snowkit.
Snowkit stared at her in surprise. “Leave them?”
“Let’s explore by ourselves.” Bluekit saw a chance to slip away unnoticed.
“But it’s fun hanging out with . . .”
Bluekit didn’t hear any more; she was already backing away. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a low, spreading bush beside the nursery. Patchkit and Leopardkit wouldn’t find them there. She spun around and dashed for the bush, diving under a branch. As she caught her breath, she tasted lots and lots of different scents clinging to the leaves. How many cats were there in ThunderClan? Did they really all fit in the camp?
The branches shook, and Snowkit crashed in after her.
“I thought you weren’t coming!” Bluekit squeaked in surprise.
“Moonflower told us to stay together,” Snowkit reminded her.
Together they peeped out to see if Leopardkit, Patchkit, and Dapplepaw had noticed their escape. The three cats were staring at the nursery, looking puzzled.
Dapplepaw shrugged. “They must have gone back to their nest.”
“Never mind.” Patchkit paced around Dapplepaw. “Now you can take us to the sandy hollow like you promised.”
Sandy hollow? What’s that? Bluekit suddenly wished she’d stayed with the others.
“I never promised!” Dapplepaw protested.
“We’ll be in trouble if we get caught,” Leopardkit warned. “We’re not supposed to leave the camp until we’re apprentices, remember?”
“Then we won’t get caught,” Patchkit mewed.
Dapplepaw glanced uncertainly around the clearing. “I’ll take you to the edge of the ravine,” she offered. “But that’s all.”
Jealousy burned Bluekit’s pelt as she watched Dapplepaw lead Leopardkit and Patchkit toward the gorse barrier and disappear through a gap at the base.
Maybe we can follow them and see where they go. . . .
Suddenly a muzzle nudged her hindquarters and sent her skidding out from her hiding place. Her sister tumbled after her, and a gray tabby face peered out at them from under the leaves.
“What are you doing here? This is the warriors’ den!”
“S-sorry!” Snowkit backed away.
Bluekit faced the warrior. “How were we supposed to know?” she protested. Do warriors have a special scent or something?
The tabby tom narrowed his eyes. “Are you Moonflower’s kits?”
Snowkit’s pelt ruffled and she looked down at her paws.
Bluekit lifted her chin. She wasn’t scared of the grouchy warrior. “Yes. I’m Bluekit. And this is my sister, Snowkit.”
The tabby slid from under the bush and straightened up. He was even bigger than Dapplepaw. Bluekit took a step back.
“I’m Stonepelt,” meowed the gray tom. “Are you looking for Stormtail?”
Snowkit glanced up eagerly. “Is he here?”
“He’s out hunting.”
“We weren’t looking for him, actually,” Bluekit told the warrior, even though she would have liked to see her father now that her eyes had opened. “We were hiding from Patchkit and Leopardkit.”
“Hide-and-seek, I suppose.” Stonepelt sighed.
“No,” Bluekit corrected him. “They were trying to show us around the camp, but we wanted to explore it for ourselves.”
Stonepelt flicked his tail. “A good warrior learns from his Clanmates.”
“W-we thought it would be more fun on our own,” Snowkit blurted out.
The warrior’s pelt bristled. “Well, it’s no fun being woken from a well-earned rest by a stampede of kits.”
“We’re sorry,” Snowkit apologized. “We didn’t realize.”
“That’s what happens when kits are left to wander around by themselves.” Stonepelt snorted and turned his gaze toward the fresh-kill pile. “Now that I’m awake, I might as well eat.” With a flick of his tail, the warrior headed across the clearing, leaving the two kits alone.
Snowkit turned on Bluekit. “Did you have to pick the warriors’ den to hide in?” she mewed crossly.
“How was I supposed to know?” Bluekit snapped back.
“We would have known if we’d stayed with Patchkit!”
Bluekit flicked her ears. Now they knew where the apprentices’ den was, and the warriors’. They had wanted to explore the camp, hadn’t they? She gazed across the clearing, waiting for her eyes to stop being blurry. She hadn’t tried to see this far away yet. As the rock at the opposite end of the clearing came into focus, she noticed scuffed earth around the base. Paw prints led into the shadows and disappeared where a patch of lichen hung at one side. Where did they lead?
Forgetting that she was cross with Snowkit, Bluekit meowed, “Follow me!” She ran over to the lichen, then reached out and prodded it with her paw. It swung under her touch and then gave way. Her paw sank through the brush and into empty space.
“There’s a gap!” Excited, Bluekit pushed her way through and found herself in a quiet cove. Its floor and walls were smooth and, although no cat was there, a nest of moss lay at one side. “It’s a den,” she hissed back through the lichen to Snowkit.
“It’s Pinestar’s den,” replied a voice that wasn’t her sister’s.
Bluekit froze for a moment, then backed cautiously out of the cave. Was she in trouble again?
A pale silver tom with bright amber eyes was sitting beside Snowkit.
“Hello, Bluekit.”
/> Bluekit tilted her head. “How do you know my name?” she asked.
“I was at your kitting,” the tom told her. “I’m Featherwhisker, the medicine cat’s apprentice.” He nodded toward Pinestar’s den. “You shouldn’t go in there unless you’ve been invited.” His mew was soft but grave.
“I didn’t realize it was his den. I just wondered what was behind the lichen.” Bluekit looked down at her paws. “Are you going to tell Pinestar?”
“Yes.”
Bluekit’s heart lurched.
“It’s better that I tell him. He’ll smell your scent anyway,” Featherwhisker explained.
Bluekit looked up at him anxiously. Would Pinestar say she couldn’t be a warrior now?
“Don’t worry,” Featherwhisker reassured her. “He won’t be angry. He’ll probably admire your curiosity.”
“Can I go and look too, then?” Snowkit mewed.
Featherwhisker purred. “One kit’s scent will smell like curiosity,” he told her. “Two kits’ scents will smell like nosiness.”
Snowkit’s tail drooped.
“I’m sure you’ll get a chance to see inside one day,” Featherwhisker promised. “Why don’t I take you to meet the elders instead? They like meeting the new kits.”
Again they were to be shown around! Annoyance prickled in Bluekit’s pelt, but she reminded herself what Stonepelt had said: A good warrior learns from her Clanmates.
Featherwhisker led them to the fallen tree and squeezed under a jutting branch. Bluekit trotted after, Snowkit at her heels.
Grass, ferns, and moss sprouted from every crevice in the tangle of wood, turning the decaying bark green with newleaf freshness. Bluekit followed Featherwhisker as he weaved his way through a maze of twigs until he reached an open space among the tangled branches.
A mangy brown tom was lying with his back to the fallen trunk, while a tortoiseshell she-cat groomed his ears with her tongue. A second tom, his orange pelt flecked with white, was eating a mouse at the other end of the den.
The tortoiseshell looked up as Featherwhisker entered. “Have you brought mouse bile?” She looked hopeful. “Mumblefoot’s got another tick.”
“He insists on hunting every day,” the orange tom commented. “He’s bound to get ticks.”