Эрин Хантер - Bluestar's Prophecy

He glanced back at her. “Does the forest go on forever? ”

Bluefur had wondered the same thing, all those seasons ago. She shook her head. “But ThunderClan has a lot of territory. That’s what feeds us and makes us strong.”

“It’s not feeding the Clan much at the moment,” Mosskit grumbled.

“You should see it in greenleaf.” Bluefur’s heart twisted. They’d never see it in greenleaf. They’d be RiverClan. Suddenly she wanted them to know everything about their birth Clan, and what it was to be a forest cat. “There are squirrels and birds and mice. All good hunting, once you’ve learned the techniques.”

Stonekit squashed himself to the snowy ground. “Redpaw’s already told me how to do a hunting crouch,” he mewed.

“That’s wonderful, darling.” Bluefur felt a surge of pride as she saw his tail sticking out straight and still, keeping his haunches low while managing to lift his belly off the ground. He was a natural.

“You try it,” she urged Mosskit and Mistykit. She wanted them to keep some memory of how ThunderClan hunted.

The two kits crouched awkwardly.

“The snow’s too cold,” Mistykit protested, fidgeting.

What am I doing? The forest was freezing. They needed to keep moving. Bluefur shook the snow from her whiskers. “Come on,” she urged. “We can practice hunting another day.”

They were halfway to Sunningrocks when the kits began to tire. Mistykit was shivering, and Mosskit’s eyes were glazed with exhaustion.

“Can we go home now?” she whimpered. “It’s cold and I’m tired.”

“We have to keep moving,” Bluefur insisted, fishing Stonekit out of a drift. Snow had clumped to his fur and slowed him down.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore!” Mistykit wailed.

Stonekit didn’t try to change her mind. He just crouched beside her, shivering so much that Bluefur could hear his teeth rattling. Bluefur realized how tiny they were out there beneath the trees, how thin their pelts were. They should be snuggling beside the warmth of her belly, not trekking through the forest on a journey that no warrior would try in this weather.

“Just a bit farther,” she urged.

Stonekit sat down and stared at her. “I can’t feel my paws,” he announced. “How can I walk if I don’t know where my paws are?”

Mosskit and Mistykit huddled together. They looked as if they couldn’t even feel their noses.

She had to get them to Sunningrocks! ThunderClan depended on it.

An owl hooted. Bluefur stiffened, scanning the treetops as she gathered her kits closer. They’d be nothing more than a mouthful of tasty prey to a hungry owl.

“I’ve got an idea,” she told them. Digging with her ice-numb paws, she scooped a hole in the snow underneath some ferns. “In you go,” she encouraged. The kits stumbled in and clustered into a small, shivering clump. At least they were out of the wind now.

“I’ll be back for you in a moment.” Bluefur bounded a tree-length away and dug another hole, then hurried back to her kits.

“Where did you go?” Mistykit wailed.

Mosskit’s eyes were wide with fear. “We thought you weren’t coming back!”

Bluefur’s heart twisted. “Oh, my precious kits,” she murmured. “I’ll always come back.” The words froze in her throat. How could she make a promise like that? Forgive me, StarClan!

Swallowing her grief, she carried her kits one at a time to the next snow-hole, and pushed on alone to dig another.

Little by little, snow-hole by snow-hole, they drew nearer Sunningrocks. Each time she carried them, her kits complained less, struggled less, until they were hanging like limp, curled leaves when she tucked them into the final snow-hole.

“Can we go home now?” Stonekit whimpered.

“There’s someone we need to meet first.” Bluefur forced herself to sound bright.

“Who?” Mistykit’s mew was dull, as though she didn’t really care what happened.

Bluefur glanced through the trees toward Sunningrocks. There was no sign of Oakheart. “Let’s all rest here for a bit,” she suggested. She squeezed into the snow-hole and wrapped herself around her kits.

They were colder than the snow, and their pelts crunched with frost.

“Can we go home yet?” Mosskit’s mew was little more than a whimper.

“You can sleep for a while here,” Bluefur told her.

Mosskit’s eyes were already closed. Mistykit snuggled closer.

“It’s been a good adventure.” Stonekit yawned and tucked his nose beneath his paw. “Did we win?”

Bluefur bent down and pressed her muzzle against the top of his head. “Oh, yes, little one. You won.”

Curling her tail around them, she pulled them tight into her belly. They were too tired to feed. She doubted she had any milk left for them anyway.

I will love you forever, my precious kits. Thank you for spending this moon with me .

She began to lap their pelts with her tongue, hoping to warm their cold, tired bodies.

Stonekit fidgeted. “Get off, I want to sleep.”

Mistykit was too tired to complain, her breath coming in tiny billows.

“Mosskit?”

The gray-and-white kit wasn’t fidgeting. Bluefur lapped her pelt again. “Mosskit!” Panic started to grip her. She stared at the little bundle of fur, looking for the rise of her flank, a puff of frozen breath.

The kit was perfectly still.

Bluefur licked harder. “Mosskit, please wake up. Please. There’s warmth and safety just on the other side of the river. Your father will look after you, I promise. Just a little bit farther, my tiny, brave daughter.”

Bluefur stopped licking and looking down at the small, snow-damp body. Wake up!

Bluefur . Snowfur’s breath stirred her whiskers. Bluefur smelled the scent of her sister drifting around the walls of the snow-hole. Let her go. I’ll look after her .

“No! Don’t take her, please.”

She’s already gone. There’s nothing you can do.

Bluefur gathered Mosskit between her paws. Mistykit and Stonekit stirred at her belly but didn’t wake. She wasn’t supposed to die!

It was her time . Snowfur’s mew echoed in her ears. I’ll take care of her in StarClan.

Snowfur’s scent faded and the icy tang of leaf-bare filled the snow-hole once more. Mosskit didn’t move.

“Bluefur?” Oakheart’s muzzle appeared at the mouth of the hole, sending warm fishy breath billowing inside.

Stonekit woke up and twitched his tail. “Yuck! What’s that stench?”

“Nothing, little one. Don’t be rude.” Bluefur forced herself to concentrate. She could still save two of her kits. “Go back to the rocks,” she told Oakheart. “I’ll bring them to you.”

“But I could carry one,” Oakheart offered.

Bluefur glared at him. “I haven’t told them who you are yet. Go back!”

As Oakheart disappeared, she roused Mistykit. “We have to get moving.”

“But I was just getting warm.”

“You’ll be even warmer soon,” Bluefur promised.

“Where are we going?” Stonekit demanded.

“I’m taking you to meet your father.”

Stonekit looked confused. “Do you mean Thrushpelt? Runningkit told me that’s who White-eye said was our father.”

“Your real father. Oakheart. From RiverClan.”

“From RiverClan? ” Stonekit echoed in disbelief.

“Hurry up,” Bluefur ordered, nudging them out into the snow.

Mistykit glanced back into the hole. “What about Mosskit?”

“I’ll come back for her.”

“But you said we were ThunderClan,” Stonekit wailed. “How can we be RiverClan as well?”

Bluefur didn’t answer. She let the kits stumble along underneath her belly, sheltered from the snow that had started to fall. She glanced back, as if Mosskit might be struggling after them, wailing at them to let her catch up. To her horror, the snow-hole was starting to fill up. No! I might lose her! She looked around wildly for somewhere to leave Stonekit and Mistykit while she went back to rescue their sister. Farther along the riverbank, two shapes were padding steadily away. Had Oakheart brought another cat with him? No—these cats were unhindered by the snow, gliding over the surface. Behind them, the snow was white and unmarked. These cats left no paw prints behind. One was full-grown, with a thick pelt of white fur that made her almost invisible. The other was patched with gray, and barely as high as her companion’s belly. The kit was looking up eagerly at Snowfur as they walked, as if she was telling her something exciting.