Chapter 3
Deep in a dream, Bluekit pounced at a butterfly, swiping it from the air. As she pinned it to the ground, its wings tickled her nose. Curious to see it fly away, she let it flutter into the air. It jerked away skyward, beyond her reach, but something was still tickling her nose.
She sneezed and woke up.
A short fluffy tail had strayed from Poppydawn’s overfilled nest and was twitching against Bluekit’s muzzle. She pawed it away grumpily. Snowkit’s weight was pressed against her spine, making her feel hot and squashed. Bluekit and Snowkit weren’t the smallest cats in the nursery anymore. Four moons ago, Poppydawn had had her kits: two she-cats and a tom, called Sweetkit, Rosekit, and Thistlekit. Bluekit had suggested Thistlekit’s name because he had spiky gray-and-white fur that stuck up all over the place. Luckily it was much softer than a real thistle. Snowkit had named Rosekit after the pinky-orange color of her tail. And Sweetkit, who was white with tortoiseshell patches, was named after Pinestar’s mother, Sweetbriar.
At first it had been fun having more kits to play with, but now Bluekit felt as if she hardly had room to stretch. Even with Moonflower sleeping in the warriors’ den most nights, the nursery felt very crowded. Thistlekit, Sweetkit, and Rosekit were growing fast and forever spilling out of Poppydawn’s nest. To add to the clutter, Speckletail had kitted two moons ago, and Lionkit and Goldenkit hardly ever stopped wriggling and mewling.
They were quiet now but, as Bluekit closed her eyes again, Poppydawn grunted in her sleep and, disentangling herself from Rosekit and Sweetkit, rolled over with a sigh. Thistlekit rolled after her, rested his chin on his mother’s flank, and began to snore loudly.
What’s the point of trying to sleep anymore?
Bluekit got to her paws and stretched, a shiver running through her long, sleek tail. With leaf-fall had come chilly mornings, and though the nursery was snug, thin streams of cold air trickled through the bramble walls. She glanced at Speckletail’s nest, envying Lionkit’s thick fur; it ruffled around his neck like a mane. Goldenkit, whose sleek, pale ginger fur made her look much smaller than her brother, stirred beside him and pressed closer to her mother.
Trying not to wake anyone, Bluekit squeezed out of the nursery. She secretly enjoyed having the early morning to herself, when the camp was quiet. The predawn sky stretched overhead, soft and gray as a dove’s wing. She recognized the scents of Sparrowpelt, Windflight, and Adderfang, still fresh in the air. They must have just left on dawn patrol. Crisp brown leaves circled down from the trees and landed gently in the cold clearing. She pressed her paws to the ground, squashing the urge to leap up and snatch one as it fell. That was what kits did; she was nearly an apprentice.
Bluekit breathed deeply, opening her mouth to let the scent of the woods wash against the roof of her mouth. The forest smelled musty, rich with decay, giving up its fragrance like fresh-killed prey. Her mouth watered. She longed to be among the trees beyond the gorse barrier. Padding toward it, she sniffed at the tantalizing smells that drifted through the entrance. She stretched her muzzle forward, trying to peer through the tunnel and wondering what lay in the shadows beyond.
“Do you want to go out?”
Sunfall’s voice made her jump, and she spun around guiltily.
“I was just looking,” she mewed.
“I’ll take you, if you’d like,” the ThunderClan deputy offered.
Bluekit blinked. “What about Pinestar? Won’t he be angry?”
“Not if you’re with me.”
“Should I get Snowkit?” Bluekit meowed. “I bet she’d want to come, too.”
“Let Snowkit sleep,” Sunfall told her gently as he padded away through the tunnel.
Breathless with excitement, Bluekit followed, feeling her tail brush the gorse and the ground beneath her paws, smooth from so many paw steps.
As she emerged on the other side of the barrier, the scents of the forest flooded her nose and mouth. Leaves, earth, moss, prey—flavors so rich she could taste them on her tongue. A wind stirred her whiskers; untainted by the familiar scents of camp, it smelled strange and wild. All around Bluekit, rich leaf-fall hues dappled the forest like a tortoiseshell pelt. Bushes crowded the forest floor, shadowlike in the early light.
Sunfall led her along a well-trodden path toward the foot of a slope so steep that Bluekit had to crane her neck to see the top. “We are in the very heart of ThunderClan territory.” He glanced upward. “But up there, at the top of the ravine, the forest stretches to our borders on every side.”
Bluekit blinked. “You climb up there?” She searched the slope, trying to work out which route her Clanmates used to find their way among the rocks and bushes that jutted out above them.
“This is the easiest path.” Sunfall padded to a gap between two massive boulders where stone and earth had crumbled into a slope. He bounded nimbly up it and leaped onto one of the boulders. Looking down at Bluekit, he meowed, “You try.”
Bluekit padded tentatively to the bottom of the rock fall. It was easy to scrabble up the first few tail-lengths, but the slope suddenly steepened and her paws started to slip on the loose stones. Heart racing, she made a desperate leap toward the boulder where Sunfall waited, only just managing to claw her way up beside him.
Feeling less than dignified, she shook out her fur.
“It gets easier with practice.” Sunfall turned and led her along a muddy gully that weaved along the slope. It stopped at the bottom of another huge boulder.
Bluekit stared in horror. Does he expect me to climb that?
Sunfall was gazing up at the smooth rock surface, his eyes narrowed. “Can you see the dents and holds where you might get a grip?”
As Bluekit scanned the rock, she started to notice chips and cracks in the stone: a dip in one side that would give her something to push against, a chink just above it where she might get a clawhold, a useful chip in the rock beyond that. Would these small cracks be enough to let her scramble to the top?
She waited for Sunfall to lead the way, but he motioned her upward with his muzzle. “You go first,” he meowed. “I’ll be right behind in case you slip.”
Bluekit unsheathed her claws. I won’t slip.
Crouching back on her haunches, she tensed to jump, her eyes fixed on the first tiny ledge where she might get a grip. Trembling with effort, she leaped and hooked a claw onto the chink, propelling herself upward and pushing against the dip in the rock with her hind paws. She was amazed to find herself already at the next crack, grabbing hold, pushing upward again until, by some miracle, she found herself panting at the top.
Peering down the sheer rock, she saw Sunfall; he seemed small on the forest floor below. Had she really jumped so far with just a couple of paw holds? She was level with the treetops surrounding the camp. She could see right into the high branches where squirrels had scampered and teased her all throughout greenleaf.
“Great climb!” Sunfall landed silently on the rock beside her. “Which way now, do you think?”
Bluekit glanced behind her. Bushes and stunted trees jutted out, their roots twining through the rocky soil to hold them fast to the sheer slope. She spotted a steep but well-worn path, which weaved around the trunk of a twisted hazel.
“That way!” she mewed. Without waiting for a reply, she hurried along the track, following it as it steepened, turned back on itself, and began to snake between the boulders studding the crest of the ravine. She was nearly at the top! The forest was only a few tail-lengths away.
Suddenly her paws slipped.
Panic shot through her like lightning as the earth beneath her claws crumbled and she fell backward, sliding and skidding on her belly down the path. Scrabbling for a grip, she let out a wail.