Bluefur's Choice

Uncertain Futures

A layer of snow covered the ground as Sunstar's voice rang clearly from the Highrock. "Mosspaw, from this moment you will be known as Mosstail. StarClan honors your intelligence and bravery, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

Mosstail was visibly trembling as she gave Sunstar's shoulder a respectful lick.

"Mistyfur! Stoneclaw! Mosstail!"

Bluefur's heart ached with pride. Her kits were finally warriors.

Much had changed in the Clan in the last few moons. Willowpelt had recently given birth to a litter of kits, much to the relief of the rest of the Clan even if it was leaf-bare. Now that Bluefur's kits were warriors, there were no apprentices, and ThunderClan would not be gaining any new ones for quite some time.

The cold had also brought sickness; Goosefeather, whose health had been declining for seasons, had become weak in the last moon. Leaf-bare was a difficult time for ThunderClan, as always, but new warriors being made filled Bluefur with hope.

She padded up to her kits, too overcome with emotion to speak. If she had given them up she would never have seen this day, and she thanked StarClan she had made the right choice.

Thrushpelt appeared at her shoulder. "Congratulations." He rested his tail on Mistyfur's shoulder. "All three of you."

"We couldn't have done it without you," Mistyfur meowed. "Either of you," she added, dipping her head to Bluefur. "I would never have figured out that rabbit stalking technique if you hadn't helped."

"And I couldn't have hoped for a better mentor." Mosstail stared past the group, giving her mentor a warm blink.

At Mosstail's mew, Sparrowpelt padded up, his eyes gleaming as he gave his apprentice a friendly nudge. "You will sit vigil tonight in the tradition of our ancestors."

"While the rest of us get a good night's sleep," Bluefur added, flicking her tail against Stoneclaw's flank.

"Yes, Sparrowpelt." Stoneclaw paused. "I can't believe we're finally warriors. I've been anticipating keeping vigil for seasons."

"I'm not looking forward to the cold tonight though," Mosstail meowed with a shiver.

Lionheart and Patchpelt joined the newly named warriors as well, and Bluefur and Thrushpelt began to make their way toward the warriors' den. Cats were mewing excitedly all around them and the exuberant mood within the clearing was infectious. The only cat that didn't seem overjoyed was Thistleclaw, but even he looked satisfied that new warriors had been made. Bluefur wished every day could be like this.

As they walked, Thrushpelt touched his nose to Bluefur's ear. "Did you see him?"

"Who?" Bluefur meowed.

"Look." Thrushpelt subtly jerked his head toward the medicine den. "Goosefeather actually came out of his den to watch the ceremony."

Breaking out of her reverie, Bluefur whirled around in surprise. The old tom was ill and hadn't been outside of the medicine den in days, but yet here he was witnessing her kits' warrior ceremonies. There was a wild, crazed expression in his eyes, and when Bluefur looked at him, he shuffled back into the medicine den.

"He was looking at you." Thrushpelt's mew was mild.

Shifting her paws, she looked away. She had no desire to speak with Goosefeather. At this point he would probably start spouting prophecies no cat could understand. Bluefur scowled, the tiny doubts she always held at the back of her mind rising up again, and she decided she didn't want to be cooped up in the warriors' den for the night just yet. "You go ahead," she meowed, settling herself in one of the last patches of sunlight. "I'll join you in a bit."