Bluefur's Choice

A Chance

Featherwhisker died near the end of greenleaf. Like the rest of her Clanmates, Bluefur had mourned. He had been relatively young; he didn't deserve to go so soon.

Thankfully though, ThunderClan still had Spottedleaf. Bluefur didn't have to know healing herbs to tell that Spottedleaf was a gifted medicine cat, and she knew that the medicine den was in good paws. Spottedleaf would do her best, just like every cat in the Clan. They were going through a hard time, but it didn't mean it was the end.

It had been only a few days since Featherwhisker's death, and Bluefur was resting in the warm midday sun. Sighing, she took in the appearance of the ThunderClan camp.

Spottedleaf was drying her newly gathered herbs in the patches of sunlight. It had been like a cruel joke- in the days following Featherwhisker's death, she had found a small amount of horsetail, along with sweet sedge, a RiverClan herb that would make a passable substitute when the horsetail ran out.

By the nursery, Robinwing was resting, her belly heavy with kits. They would probably arrive within the moon. Next to her were White-Eye and Poppydawn. Sharing stories about their kits, Bluefur guessed, noting the familiar expressions on their faces. Longpaw stood nearby, looking as much a warrior as any other cat. He would earn his name soon. Bluefur remembered the time that seemed like so many seasons ago already, when Thrushpelt and Mosstail had playfully taught him how to hunt.

Whitestorm and Patchpelt were standing by the fresh-kill pile, deep in conversation, their pelts dappled by the late greenleaf sun.

Lionheart limped along near the edge of the camp, a thin bramble stem between his teeth. Although he could no longer hunt or fight, he did anything he could to contribute to the Clan. Goldenflower padded up, giving her brother's side a friendly nudge.

Bluefur shook her head in amusement. She couldn't imagine having any other cats for Clanmates.

Rosetail trotted up, her tail waving. "Have you heard?" she meowed quietly.

Bluefur blinked, utterly bewildered. From Rosetail's mew, something very important must have happened, and she immediately thought of her wounded Clanmates. Mistyfur's scraped leg couldn't have recovered yet; what if it was infected? Or Whitestorm, he had twisted his paw the other day- what if the injury was worse than he'd let on? Bluefur felt her fur begin to rise. "Heard what?"

Rosetail twitched her whiskers. "Brindleface is expecting kits."

At once Bluefur stopped bristling. "That's good news. How long?"

"Two moons or so. Robinwing's kits will have playmates." Rosetail gave an amused purr. "Mosstail and Runningwind are making bets on how many."

"I bet they are." Bluefur shook her head to herself. Redtail and Brindleface had spent a great deal more time together recently, and the Clan had been expecting an announcement of kits any day. How could she have forgotten?

"Mistyfur didn't want a part of it- the talk Mosstail and Runningwind were having about how many kits there'd be, I mean," Rosetail told her. "She and Runningwind had a minor argument about it. Mistyfur thought the birth of new kits was a much too important topic to speculate about. They're fine today though." Purring, Rosetail tilted her head. "You know, they remind me a bit of how you and Thrushpelt were before you had kits." Rosetail glanced toward the warriors' den.

"Who?" Bluefur asked, but she already knew who Rosetail was talking about; Mistyfur's blue-gray pelt was visible within the shadows of the warriors' den, along with a lighter tabby pelt nearby.

Rosetail eyes glimmered mischievously. "Runningwind and Mistyfur, obviously. Haven't you seen them together? They bring back so many memories: Thrushpelt padding after you-" twisting her ear back, Bluefur gave a good-natured eye roll- "you denying Thrushpelt was your mate..."