darkly.
Speckletail stared in dismay at the vole, pressing Goldenkit against her. “It’s okay,” she whispered, pressing her muzzle against her daughter’s soft head. “You’ll be safe in the nursery.” Her gaze lifted to meet Smallear’s, and a flash of fear passed between them that made Bluepaw’s pelt bristle.
Moonflower tensed beside her. “Will all the apprentices have to fight?”
Bluepaw’s heart quickened. Would this be her first battle?
“All must fight when we face this much danger!” Adderfang meowed.
Pinestar turned to Robinwing. “Is Leopardpaw ready for battle?”
Robinwing nodded reluctantly.
“Then she will be part of the battle party.” Pinestar’s gaze flicked to Fuzzypelt. “You and Patchpaw will remain behind with Windflight and Tawnyspots to defend the camp in case WindClan counterattacks.”
Patchpaw began to object. “But I want to—”
“We’ll defend the camp with our lives if necessary,” Fuzzypelt cut him off.
“What about Snowpaw and Bluepaw?” Moonflower demanded, a tremor in her mew.
Pinestar blinked. “I would never send an apprentice into battle with so little training,” he assured her.
“I want to fight!” Snowpaw slid out from the crowd, her ears pricked.
“No, Snowpaw.” Pinestar shook his head. “You won’t fight. But you will have a taste of battle.”
Snowpaw’s eyes lit up.
Bluepaw felt her mother stiffen as the ThunderClan leader went on. “You and Bluepaw will go with the raiding party, but not to fight. You’ll wait where it’s safe, ready to carry messages or help with the wounded.”
“Is that all?” Snowpaw’s tail drooped.
“That’s plenty!” Bluepaw nosed her way to her sister’s side. “We’ll do our best,” she promised Pinestar. “Even if we can’t fight.”
Murmurs of approval rippled through the Clan.
“Imagine! Such a big message from a small scrap of fur.” Snowpaw shook her head. “Goosefeather must be so clever to see it.”
Goosefeather had picked up the vole and was carrying it away through the fern tunnel. As Bluepaw watched the shadows swallow him, the wind plucked her fur and she shivered. I hope he’s right, for all our sakes .
Wind buffeted the camp as evening fell. The dusk patrol went out as usual, just as hunting parties had come and gone during the afternoon, restocking the fresh-kill pile as though nothing had changed. Yet a solemn quietness had fallen over the camp.
Bluepaw washed her paws beside the nursery. They were sore after an afternoon helping Robinwing and Stonepelt reinforce the walls, weaving extra brambles into the tangle ofstems and branches. She glanced at the sky. Why hadn’t the rain come? The clouds were as gray as a squirrel’s pelt, but they seemed reluctant to give up their load.
Yet Featherwhisker had promised rain, and Bluepaw couldn’t help but believe the young medicine cat apprentice. He’d been busy all afternoon, slipping in and out of camp, returning each time with a new bundle of herbs. He was padding across the clearing now, his silver pelt sleek in the twilight.
She hurried to meet him, catching up to him as he reached the fern tunnel. “Where’s the rain?”
He dropped his bundle and turned his bright amber gaze on her. “It’ll come when it’s ready,” he told her.
“Before the battle?”
“I don’t know.” He bent down, ready to pick up his herbs.
“What are they for?” Bluepaw was reluctant to let him go, reassured by his calm presence.
“These will give our warriors strength,” he told her. “Each cat will eat some before the battle.”
“Do you have anything for bravery?”
Featherwhisker brushed his tail along her spine. “Bravery will come from your heart,” he promised. “You were born a warrior, and StarClan will be with you.”
He was right! She would be brave.
“Have you eaten?” Featherwhisker asked. Around the clearing, the Clan were settling down in knots, sharing prey and tongues.
“I’m not
Speckletail stared in dismay at the vole, pressing Goldenkit against her. “It’s okay,” she whispered, pressing her muzzle against her daughter’s soft head. “You’ll be safe in the nursery.” Her gaze lifted to meet Smallear’s, and a flash of fear passed between them that made Bluepaw’s pelt bristle.
Moonflower tensed beside her. “Will all the apprentices have to fight?”
Bluepaw’s heart quickened. Would this be her first battle?
“All must fight when we face this much danger!” Adderfang meowed.
Pinestar turned to Robinwing. “Is Leopardpaw ready for battle?”
Robinwing nodded reluctantly.
“Then she will be part of the battle party.” Pinestar’s gaze flicked to Fuzzypelt. “You and Patchpaw will remain behind with Windflight and Tawnyspots to defend the camp in case WindClan counterattacks.”
Patchpaw began to object. “But I want to—”
“We’ll defend the camp with our lives if necessary,” Fuzzypelt cut him off.
“What about Snowpaw and Bluepaw?” Moonflower demanded, a tremor in her mew.
Pinestar blinked. “I would never send an apprentice into battle with so little training,” he assured her.
“I want to fight!” Snowpaw slid out from the crowd, her ears pricked.
“No, Snowpaw.” Pinestar shook his head. “You won’t fight. But you will have a taste of battle.”
Snowpaw’s eyes lit up.
Bluepaw felt her mother stiffen as the ThunderClan leader went on. “You and Bluepaw will go with the raiding party, but not to fight. You’ll wait where it’s safe, ready to carry messages or help with the wounded.”
“Is that all?” Snowpaw’s tail drooped.
“That’s plenty!” Bluepaw nosed her way to her sister’s side. “We’ll do our best,” she promised Pinestar. “Even if we can’t fight.”
Murmurs of approval rippled through the Clan.
“Imagine! Such a big message from a small scrap of fur.” Snowpaw shook her head. “Goosefeather must be so clever to see it.”
Goosefeather had picked up the vole and was carrying it away through the fern tunnel. As Bluepaw watched the shadows swallow him, the wind plucked her fur and she shivered. I hope he’s right, for all our sakes .
Wind buffeted the camp as evening fell. The dusk patrol went out as usual, just as hunting parties had come and gone during the afternoon, restocking the fresh-kill pile as though nothing had changed. Yet a solemn quietness had fallen over the camp.
Bluepaw washed her paws beside the nursery. They were sore after an afternoon helping Robinwing and Stonepelt reinforce the walls, weaving extra brambles into the tangle ofstems and branches. She glanced at the sky. Why hadn’t the rain come? The clouds were as gray as a squirrel’s pelt, but they seemed reluctant to give up their load.
Yet Featherwhisker had promised rain, and Bluepaw couldn’t help but believe the young medicine cat apprentice. He’d been busy all afternoon, slipping in and out of camp, returning each time with a new bundle of herbs. He was padding across the clearing now, his silver pelt sleek in the twilight.
She hurried to meet him, catching up to him as he reached the fern tunnel. “Where’s the rain?”
He dropped his bundle and turned his bright amber gaze on her. “It’ll come when it’s ready,” he told her.
“Before the battle?”
“I don’t know.” He bent down, ready to pick up his herbs.
“What are they for?” Bluepaw was reluctant to let him go, reassured by his calm presence.
“These will give our warriors strength,” he told her. “Each cat will eat some before the battle.”
“Do you have anything for bravery?”
Featherwhisker brushed his tail along her spine. “Bravery will come from your heart,” he promised. “You were born a warrior, and StarClan will be with you.”
He was right! She would be brave.
“Have you eaten?” Featherwhisker asked. Around the clearing, the Clan were settling down in knots, sharing prey and tongues.
“I’m not
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