by Erin Hunter
Goosefeather was already waiting outside the fern tunnel. Bluefur tensed. He hadn’t said anything about the prophecy since the day the fox came, two moons ago. Would he mention it now?
But he just blinked and pushed the herbs toward her. “Pinestar says he’s taking you to the Moonstone.”
Bluefur nodded. Was that curiosity flashing in his eyes?
“Eat these.” He turned and padded away. Had he mentioned something to Pinestar about the prophecy? Is that why the ThunderClan leader was taking her and not Snowfur? Did he know she was special?
“Hurry up!” Pinestar called across the clearing. “I want to be there by moonhigh.”
Bluefur quickly lapped up the pile of green leaves, gagging against the bitterness, and raced after her leader.
They followed the route to Fourtrees, retracing their steps to last night’s Gathering. Bluefur could smell lingering Clan scents as they padded past the Great Rock. It looked strange in daylight—dull and lifeless without the moon’s glow.
The grass became coarse beneath her paws as they climbed the slope to WindClan territory. “Remember,” Pinestar warned as the wind began to whip at their fur and the trees gave way to stunted bushes, “no hunting here.”
Of course not! Besides, Bluefur wasn’t hungry. Goosefeather’s herbs had squashed her appetite and made her paws itch to run, but she followed Pinestar’s steady pace as he led the way through the heather until the ground flattened out into a wide plateau. Bluefur scanned the horizon, looking for WindClan’s camp and the rock where she had sheltered during the battle. But only the sound of the wind streaming over the grass seemed familiar.
Suddenly the ground dipped down at their paws and the whole length of WindClan’s territory stretched out on either side. Pinestar stopped as the world unfurled in front of them. The moorland rolled down into a wide, deep valley, where Twoleg nests clustered in knots, small as grass seeds, and far in the distance rose a cliff of tall, jagged peaks.
“Are those Highstones?” Bluefur breathed.
Pinestar nodded.
The acid tang of the Thunderpath drifted from the valley. Bluefur could see a thin gray strip winding like a river below them. She had seen the Thunderpath that separated ThunderClan’s forest from ShadowClan territory, but had never crossed it. This Thunderpath looked busier. From there it seemed as though the monsters crawled along like insects, but Bluefur knew how huge they were and had heard of cats killed by them, traveling at such speed that even the fastest warrior could be caught.
“Come on.” Pinestar started down the slope.
Bluefur could smell the scent markers lining the WindClan border and see the lush grass coating the slopes below. Her paws ached for its softness.
“Halt!”
A WindClan yowl made them freeze. Bluefur stiffened as Pinestar whipped around to greet the WindClan patrol. Bracing herself, she turned to see Talltail and Reedfeather, the WindClan deputy, bounding through the heather, their hackles raised and teeth bared, three more warriors at their heels.
“Let your fur lie flat,” Pinestar hissed.
Bluefur tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths. We’re allowed to cross to Highstones, she told herself as the WindClan warriors pulled up a tail-length away.
Reedfeather narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to Highstones?” he challenged.
Pinestar nodded.
The WindClan deputy circled them, opening his mouth to taste their scent.
“We haven’t hunted,” Pinestar meowed evenly.
Reedfeather snorted. “With ThunderClan, it’s always best to make sure.”
Pinestar dug his claws into the peaty soil but said nothing.
“Go, then!” Reedfeather snapped. “And hurry. We don’t want you stinking up our land and scaring off prey.”
Pinestar turned. Wasn’t he going to respond? Bluefur struggled to keep her fur from bristling with anger, but Pinestar just padded heavily down the slope, head and tail down. There was no fear-scent on him. But the weariness in his step made Bluefur wonder what was driving him to share dreams with StarClan. Perhaps he was more worried about the kittypets than he would admit.
Bluefur could feel the stares of the WindClan patrol burning her pelt as she headed downhill. She relaxed only when they crossed the border, her paws sinking into the soft grass. From there, Pinestar kept to quiet pathways, winding far from Twoleg nests. Bluefur ached with tiredness by the time they neared the Thunderpath, and she was glad of the traveling herbs that kept her hunger at bay. The sun was dropping behind Highstones, throwing long shadows across the valley. Overhead the moon hung in a pale sky and stars began to blink.
The roar of the Thunderpath shook Bluefur’s belly. By the time they reached it, an endless stream of monsters was roaring past, eyes blazing. Dazzled, Bluefur blinked each time one roared past, and wrinkled her nose at its stinking breath. Pinestar crouched in the ditch at the edge, steadying her with a touch of his tail. Bluefur couldn’t stop trembling. The monsters pounded past from both directions, their foul hot wind tugging her whiskers and buffeting her fur. How would they get across?
“Stay behind me,” Pinestar ordered. He guided her forward till her claws touched the stinking black stone, hardly flinching as another monster roared past less than a tail-length away.
Terrified, Bluefur leaped backward.
“Get back here,” Pinestar growled. Breathing hard, Bluefur crept back to his side and forced herself to hold her ground as another monster whizzed past.
“Now!” Pinestar shot forward.
Heart pounding in her throat, Bluefur raced with him, her paws slipping on the smooth Thunderpath, her mind whirling in panic as she saw lights bearing down and heard the yowl of a monster hurtling toward them. Blind with terror, she ran with Pinestar, pressing against his pelt until the ground turned to grass beneath her paws.
“We’re safe now,” Pinestar panted.
Bluefur opened her eyes, relieved to find herself on the far edge of the Thunderpath.
Still trembling, she followed the ThunderClan leader as he headed to Highstones. The wind, chilly with night air, whipped through her fur. She shivered and glanced up. The sun was no more than a glow over the jagged peaks, and the sky was black overhead. Trembling, she searched out the brightest star. Could that be Moonflower watching her first journey to the Moonstone?
The land sloped and steepened, and the grass turned to stones beneath their paws. Pinestar was breathing heavily, and Bluefur’s belly was beginning to growl. There would be little to hunt on this bare, rocky soil dotted only with heather made ragged by the wind.
She was relieved when Pinestar paused. He lifted his tawny muzzle and stared up the slope. “Mothermouth.”
Holding her breath, Bluefur followed his gaze. Above them, as the slope grew steeper and rockier, a hole gaped in the hillside. Square and black, it yawned beneath a stone archway.
Pinestar glanced at the moon glowing high overhead. “It’s time.”
CHAPTER 18
“Welcome to Mothermouth.” Pinestar brushed his tail lightly over Bluefur’s shoulder before entering the tunnel. Almost at once, his red-brown coat vanished into the shadows.
With one last glance at the star-filled sky, Bluefur followed. Darkness swallowed her, pressing so thick that she held her breath and waited for the blackness to swamp her like water. Pinestar’s paw steps brushed the floor as it began to slope deep into the earth, and she padded after him with the blood roaring in her ears.
“Pinestar?” she gasped. Freezing air rushed into her lungs. The taste of water and stone and earth bathed her tongue. Where was he? His scent was lost in the jumble of strange odors. Crushed by the darkness, panic surged through her pelt. She darted forward, squawking as she crashed into him and bowled him over.
“What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” Pinestar scrambled to his paws, untangling himself from Bluefur.
Hot with embarrassment, she jumped up, wishing she could see…something. “I got scar
ed.” She felt his pelt press against hers.
“We’re nearly there,” he promised. “I’ll walk beside you till it gets lighter.”
“Gets lighter?” Bluefur peered ahead in disbelief. How could it be light down there? And yet, after a few more paw steps, her eyes detected a glow in the tunnel ahead.
As Pinestar pulled away, Bluefur began to make out the tall, smooth sides of the tunnel, glistening with moisture. And then the tunnel opened into a cavern arching high above Pinestar, making the ThunderClan leader look very small. Vast curved walls reached to a high ceiling and there, at the top, a hole was open to the sky. The scents of heather and wind washed down, and moonlight flooded in and bathed the great stone standing in the center of the cave. The stone reached several tail-lengths high, sparkling like countless dewdrops and illuminating the cave like a captured star.
Bluefur’s paws would not move. She stood and stared, horribly aware of the choking blackness that stood between her and freedom, longing to feel the wind in her fur and frightened by the thought that StarClan shared dreams in this place. Were her ancestors with them now, weaving invisibly around her? She pressed herself against a wall, instinctively backing away from the Moonstone.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Pinestar told her. “I must share dreams with StarClan now.”
Bluefur crouched down, fluffing out her fur to protect her belly from the freezing stone floor. She wondered if sunshine ever filled this cavern the way moonshine did now, and she yearned for warmth and brightness to sweep away the cold, eerie glow.
Pinestar approached the Moonstone and, crouching beside it, touched the sparkling crystal with his nose. Instantly his eyes closed and his body stiffened. Bluefur tensed, waiting for sparks or flashes. But nothing moved or changed; the cave was silent but for the wind sighing down around the Moonstone. The journey had been long and she felt tiredness creep through her. Her eyes glazed and grew heavy, and she let them close so that darkness engulfed her.
Dreaming now, she gulped for air and breathed water. Panic surged beneath her pelt as a fierce current swept her off her paws and tumbled her into endless darkness. Water dragged at her fur, filled her nose and eyes and ears, blinding her, deafening her to all but the terror screaming in her mind. Struggling against the torrent, coughing and fighting, Bluefur thrashed her paws, her lungs aching for air. She searched for light to swim toward, some sense of where the breathing world might be, but saw nothing beyond the endless black water.
She woke gasping, her pelt bristling with fear.
Pinestar stood outlined against the shimmering crystal. He stared at her through narrowed eyes. “Nightmare?”
Panting, she nodded and got clumsily to her paws, still drowsy with sleep and swamped by terror.
“Fresh air will clear your head.” Pinestar led the way from the cavern.
Bluefur followed, too shocked by her dream to speak, the memory of drowning seared in her thoughts. She let her whiskers touch Pinestar’s tail and followed his paw steps up the black, ice-smooth tunnel, until at last moonlight washed her paws and she felt the wind brush her fur.
“We’ll rest here till dawn.” Pinestar was already curling into the smooth shelter of a boulder just beyond the mouth of the tunnel. It was chilly underpaw, but Bluefur was glad to be out in the open. Silverpelt sparkled above them. Moonflower. The milk-scent of her mother seemed to enfold her, comforting her. She stopped shivering, but her mind still swirled. Had she just tasted the truth of the prophecy? Was she really going to drown, to be destroyed by water as Goosefeather had told her?
The rising sun woke her. It felt as if she had hardly slept at all, but her dream had faded and she could no longer taste water in her mouth. Bluefur blinked open her eyes and gazed at the milky horizon, watching the pink sun lap the distant moorland.
As she stood and stretched, Pinestar woke beside her and yawned. He stared wearily across the valley. “I suppose we’d better go back.”
Bluefur couldn’t wait to be home, back in the ravine among her Clanmates. She paced the rock, sniffing hopefully for prey, while Pinestar stretched and washed and finally set off down the slope.
They skirted the Twoleg nests, and when they reached WindClan territory they skirted the edge of that, too. Bluefur felt like a thief, skulking in the shadows beyond the scent markers. Pinestar hardly spoke. Bluefur decided that if she were leader she would not be bullied by WindClan patrols. The warrior code gave them permission to pass over the moors. No cat had the right to stop a leader from sharing with StarClan.
Then she remembered the hostility in Reedfeather’s eyes. Did she really want to face that after such a long journey? Her paws felt too heavy to fight and her mind too sleepy to argue.
“Will they hate us forever?” she wondered out loud.
Pinestar glanced at her. “WindClan?” He sighed, his breath whipped away by the breeze. “They’ll forgive us for the attack, then hate us for some other reason. Just as the other Clans will. The four Clans will be enemies until the end.” He trudged onward, tail down. Though he spoke, he hardly seemed to be talking to Bluefur at all. “And yet we all want the same things: prey to hunt, a safe territory to raise our kits, and peace to share dreams with our ancestors. Why must we hate one another over such simple desires?”
Bluefur stared at the tawny haunches of her Clan leader. Was this really how he saw Clan life? There was more to it than hatred and rivalry! The warrior code told them to protect their Clanmates and fight for what was theirs. Did that mean nothing more than hating every cat beyond their borders? She gazed across the bristling moorland, searching for the dip where the WindClan camp nestled and where her mother had been slaughtered. Maybe that was all it meant. She would hate WindClan forever. She would hate any Clan that harmed those she loved, and from what she had seen, the other Clans meant nothing but harm.
They reached the ravine at last and stumbled down on tired paws. Afternoon sun spilled into the camp, lighting the clearing so that Bluefur could see it flashing through the treetops. The familiar scents of home warmed her paws.
“Go rest in your den,” Pinestar ordered as they padded through the gorse tunnel. His tone was brisk; he sounded once more like ThunderClan’s leader, and the weariness she had heard on the moors seemed to have lifted.
Relieved to be back where things felt normal, Bluefur felt her belly rumble. They hadn’t stopped to hunt, and she was starving. But exhaustion reached down into her bones. Sleep first, then food. She scuffed the ground as she stumbled toward the warriors’ den and pushed her way in. Someone had added bracken to her nest and lined it with fresh moss. Gratefully, she sank down into it and closed her eyes.
“You’re back!”
A mouse thudded in front of her nose. Snowfur was circling her nest. “What was it like? Was it big? Did Pinestar dream? Did you dream? What happened?”
Bluefur lifted her head and blinked at her sister. “It was big and shiny, and Pinestar dreamed.”
“What about?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Is it really far? Did you see any Twolegs? How big are Highstones? Sparrowpelt says they’re the biggest things in the world.”
“They’re higher than the moorland. And we avoided the Twolegs. And we walked all day.” Bluefur sniffed the mouse. Her mouth watered at the smell, but she was too tired to chew. “Thanks for cleaning my nest,” she murmured, eyes half closed.
“That wasn’t me.” Snowfur sounded surprised. “That was Thrushpelt. He said you’d be tired when you got back.”
Bluefur closed her eyes, too tired to comment, and felt Snowfur’s warm muzzle press her head.
“Sleep well, sister.”
Bluefur heard bracken crunch as Snowfur left her to sleep and drifted away into a swirl of stars and voices that whispered just beyond her hearing. And all around her, rushing black water tugged at her pelt and chilled her to the bone.
CHAPTER 19
Bluefur followed Adderfang, Thistlepaw, and Thrushpelt through the
trees as they headed back to the camp after an early border patrol. Soft greenleaf sunshine dappled her pelt, and a bee buzzed close to her ear as it looped its way through a clump of ferns.
“It would be a perfect day to be lying on Sunningrocks,” Thistlepaw mewed wistfully.
Adderfang snorted. “I can’t believe Pinestar hasn’t done anything to take them back from those RiverClan fish-faces.”
“He should have launched an attack the moment they moved the border markers.” Thistlepaw batted the air in a mock lunge. “Instead we have to watch those fish-faces loll about on our territory.”
“We don’t need the prey from Sunningrocks,” Thrushpelt pointed out. “There’s enough in the rest of the forest.”
“That’s not the point!” Adderfang snapped. “He’s made us look weak. ShadowClan will be helping themselves to Snakerocks next.”
Bluefur flicked her tail. “ShadowClan can have Snakerocks. It attracts more adders and foxes than it does prey.”
A low growl rumbled in Adderfang’s throat.
“Shedding blood over Sunningrocks is pointless,” Thrushpelt argued. “From what the elders say, it’s happened enough times in the Clan’s history already. It’s easier just to let them have it. We have enough prey.”
“In greenleaf!” Thistlepaw snapped. “But what about during leaf-bare, when we need every whisker of territory?”
You’re just repeating what Adderfang’s told you. Bluefur narrowed her eyes. The mouse-brained apprentice never thought that far ahead on his own. “If it becomes worth fighting over, then I’m sure Pinestar will fight.”
Thistlepaw curled his lip. “Has our leader been confiding in you?” he sneered.
“He doesn’t need to,” Bluefur growled as they reached the top of the ravine. “It just makes sense.” She shouldered past Thistlepaw and bounded down the rocks.
Leopardfoot was basking outside the nursery. Her belly was so swollen with kits, she looked as round as a badger.
“Warm enough?” Bluefur asked as she passed.
