Bluefur's Choice

Keeping Promises

AN: We're roughly halfway done now. Thanks for the votes and comments everyone. I must admit, I'm not entirely sure how Wattpad works since I post more on other sites, so if I've breached Wattpad etiquette at some point I apologize.

Ok onto the news.

Just so everyone is clear, this story is going to get even darker in future chapters.

There's been a lot of intense stuff happening up to now, but in the context of this whole fic, well... you ain't seen nothing yet. If the character deaths and dark tone are bothering you at this point, you may want to turn back.

However if you're ok with intense dark stuff, full steam ahead!

----------------------------------------------------

"Tigerclaw, lead a raiding party on ShadowClan territory and give one of their border patrols a lesson they won't forget." It was a remark heard many times recently, and Bluefur was growing tired of hearing it.

"Of course, Thistlestar." Tigerclaw's meow was smooth, quite unlike what Bluefur would expect a cat would sound like when preparing for battle. She supposed he was used to fighting by now as he led most battle patrols; this wasn't news. He quickly beckoned Redtail, Willowpelt and Rosetail and led them out of the gorse tunnel at a run.

From her spot next to Thrushpelt, Bluefur sighed. Perhaps Tigerclaw would have had a chance if he hadn't been mentored by Thistlestar.

She glanced around, spotting Runningwind sitting next to Mistyfur by the elders' den, and at the sight of the swift tabby tom a memory flowed back into her mind. "Remember that one time Mosstail won a playfight with Runningwind?"

"Playfight?!" Mosstail appeared at Bluefur's shoulder and sat down next to her and Thrushpelt. "That was a mock fight. Big difference."

Thrushpelt blinked warmly. "I remember you didn't stop talking about it for days."

"I was nine moons old," Mosstail protested. "Nine moons! And Runningwind was about to become a warrior."

The conversation was cut off when Bluefur hissed; tiny thorns were pricking her tail. She whipped around, turning the full force of her glare on ThunderClan's only kit, who sheathed his claws guiltily. "Longkit!" she admonished him. "Didn't your mother tell you not to pounce on other cat's tails?"

"Sorry," Longkit squeaked, ducking his head.

"Well, see that it doesn't happen again." Bluefur fixed Longkit with a stern look, but softened when the young kit scuffed his paws against the ground. "Why don't you go chase some falling leaves?"

"I always chase leaves. It's boring. No one will play with me," Longkit complained. "All every cat talks about is the ShadowClan battle."

Bluefur sympathized with the young kit. He had no littermates and was the youngest cat in the Clan by seasons.

"You could practice hunting crouches," Bluefur suggested.

He narrowed his eyes. "Oh, like this?" Longkit hobbled unsteadily in a circle.

"I can do better than that!" Thrushpelt got up and began to stomp around playfully.

"You'd never catch prey if you do that!" Mosstail meowed, leaping to her paws. "You need to put more weight on your forepaws." Bluefur purred as Mosstail trod across the ground in loud heavy pawsteps, the complete opposite of how warriors hunted.