She gestured with her tail to where Stonekit, Mosskit, and Mistykit were playing pounce with a dead leaf. “Thistleclaw can’t be that important to you,” she urged. “You have three other lives to think about now!”
To her astonishment, Bluefur’s eyes clouded with sorrow. “I love them so much,” she murmured. “But I love my Clan, too. I could never wish they hadn’t been born, but why now? What if my Clan needs me more than they do?”
Spottedpaw froze. Had Bluefur intended for her to hear that? The queen sounded so desperate, so lonely, but Spottedpaw couldn’t bring herself to ask what she meant. Instead, she mewed, “You are not alone, Bluefur. Thrushpelt will always help you to care for your kits.”
The queen looked at her, though her gaze seemed focused on something beyond Spottedpaw. “I cannot ask more of him than I already have.”
But he’s their father! The words stuck in Spottedpaw’s throat. Was Bluefur about to tell her that wasn’t true?
Bluefur sighed. “Love can lead a cat so far astray that it becomes too late to turn back,” she whispered.
Spottedpaw thought of how she had fallen for Thistleclaw, how her foolish heart had been blind to his cruelty and his ambition until she watched him kill a cat in the Dark Forest. “It’s never too late!” she blurted out. “You can always change the path you follow!”
Bluefur stared at her kits, who had finished demolishing the dead leaf and were now stalking the tip of Mumblefoot’s tail. “I have a decision to make,” she mewed softly. “But I am filled with too much love, and too much fear.”
“What do you mean?” Spottedpaw pressed. “Can I help?”
The queen shook her head. “No. This is something I must do alone.”
She padded away, not to her kits but to the gorse tunnel. Spottedpaw watched her leave, her belly heavy with dread. Bluefur sounded as if she was about to choose between life and death, she had been so serious. What was she going to do?
A full, gleaming moon hung over the trees, turning the snow-covered ground silver. The air in the camp crackled with tension as warriors circled, ready to set off for the Gathering. Spottedpaw was staying behind to watch over Tawnyspots, who had weakened so much that Featherwhisker ordered him to sleep in the medicine den. She stood among the ferns at the edge of the clearing, watching her mentor talk quietly to Sunstar.
“Spottedpaw, can I ask you a favor?” It was Bluefur, her eyes huge and anxious. Her breath hung in a cloud around her muzzle.
“Of course. Are the kits all right?”
“They’re fine. I wore them out today with a game of hide-and-seek, so they should sleep till dawn.” Bluefur shifted her paws. “I . . . I want to go to the Gathering tonight. Please, will you check on my kits while I’m away? White-eye said she’d watch them but she has her paws full with Runningkit and Mousekit.”
Spottedpaw blinked. A nursing queen never went to Gatherings, not when her kits still needed her. But there was something desperate in Bluefur’s gaze that made her nod. “Yes, I’ll keep an eye on them,” she meowed.
Bluefur blinked warmly at her. “Thank you, Spottedpaw. I’ll remember this.” She trotted away and her blue-gray pelt merged with the other warriors as they headed into the gorse.
Spottedpaw made sure that Tawnyspots was comfortable and gave him another mint leaf to chew. Mercifully she had found a fresh plant near the river that had been sheltered from the worst of the snow. The leaves would ease Tawnyspots’s bellyache, though Spottedpaw knew there was little more that she and Featherwhisker could do to help him.
When Tawnyspots had finished his leaf and was dozing with his chin propped on the edge of his nest, Spottedpaw trotted over to the nursery. Her paws crunched in the snow, and the bitter cold stung her pads. She poked her head through the brambles and was relieved to see that all the kits, and White-eye, were fast asleep, tiny snores filling the air. The nursery was warm and milk-scented, and for a moment Spottedpaw was tempted to creep in and curl up among the kits. But she wouldn’t sleep tonight, at least not until Featherwhisker returned. She was the sole medicine cat in the Clan, and all the cats here were in her charge. Puffing out her fur, Spottedpaw headed back to her den to wait out the night.
The cats returned just before dawn, quiet and hunched from the cold. Spottedpaw nodded to them as they trooped into the clearing and headed for their dens. Bluefur stopped beside her. Her eyes were clear, and she seemed much calmer now.
“Have you decided what to do?” Spottedpaw asked.
Bluefur nodded. “I have made my choice.” She walked away without saying anything, and Spottedpaw wondered if she would ever know what that decision had been.
Spottedpaw opened her eyes with a start. What was that noise? The sky was filled with stars, hazy in the bitter cold. More snow had fallen since the Gathering, and all around the medicine den the ferns were flattened under the weight of its icy white pelt. Spottedpaw sat up. Was Tawnyspots stirring in his nest? She craned her neck to see, but the deputy seemed to be lying still, breathing loudly but steadily.
The noise came again, a soft rustle and the tiniest murmur. Spottedpaw stepped out of her nest and crept past Featherwhisker and Tawnyspots, thanking StarClan that she hadn’t forgotten how to stalk like a warrior. The clearing was still and silent, every sound muffled by the snow. Spottedpaw padded over to the nursery and listened, but only soft snores came from inside. What had disturbed her?
She turned toward the gorse tunnel. Stormtail was on guard tonight, back to warrior duties now that Featherwhisker had found herbs to help with his thirsting sickness. Spottedpaw decided to check that he was okay in the bitter cold. She pushed through the frosty gorse, shivering as icy thorns brushed the back of her neck. Stormtail jumped when she appeared, then let out a purr.
“I was almost dozing off!” he told her. “It’s so quiet out here.”
“Better than a ShadowClan invasion,” Spottedpaw joked. Suddenly she spotted movement behind Stormtail, halfway up the ravine. Was it a cat? Why weren’t they using the regular path? She peered closer.
Great StarClan, it’s Bluefur and the kits!
What could possibly be happening? Spottedpaw pictured the desperation in Bluefur’s eyes when she talked about her kits, and the decision she had to make. Should she tell Stormtail? He would take Bluefur straight back to the camp. Do I trust Bluefur enough to let her go? Spottedpaw had no doubt that Bluefur loved her kits. Whatever she’s doing, she won’t let any harm come to them.
In the shadows, Bluefur slipped and a twig cracked. Stormtail pricked his ears and began to turn around.
“What’s that?” Spottedpaw pointed with her tail to the other side of the ravine.
Stormtail jumped to his paws and stared into the bushes. “Where?”
Behind her, Spottedpaw heard a tiny rustling sound. Had Bluefur taken her kits out of sight yet? She didn’t dare to turn around.
“Just by that tall tree,” Spottedpaw mewed. She walked over to Stormtail and pretended to peer more closely. “I’m sure I saw something move there. Maybe a fox?”
“I’ll check it out,” Stormtail growled. He padded away, his pelt bristling along his spine.
Spottedpaw stayed where she was, watching Stormtail prowl into the undergrowth. She was desperate to follow Bluefur and find out where she was going, but she couldn’t risk Stormtail seeing her go up the ravine.
The warrior returned, his pelt ruffled from the brambles. “No trace of any scent,” he reported.
“I’m sure I saw something,” Spottedpaw persisted. “It was heading farther along the ravine. Why don’t you check that way, and I’ll go up to the top and see if I can spot anything?”
Stormtail nodded and headed back the way he had come. Spottedpaw raced up the path, her feet slipping in the snow. More flakes were falling, making Spottedpaw blink and shake her head. She strained to spot any signs of a trail in the darkness. Which way had they gone?
In the shelter of some brambles, she spotted a faint trail of paw prints, som
e large and some so tiny she could hardly make them out. It looked as if they had taken the path that led to Sunningrocks. Spottedpaw took a deep breath and started walking through the bracken, lifting each paw high out of the snow and shaking it to get some feeling into her toes. Ice clumped against her belly fur, and her ears stung with cold. I hope the kits are all right!
The night closed silently around her, and Spottedpaw wondered if she had lost them. She pushed her way into a clump of ferns, trying to find some shelter. Then she heard voices up ahead, low and urgent. Spottedpaw peeked through the stalks and made out two bulky shapes on the shore of the frozen river.
One of them turned toward her and she shrank back out of sight. This was Bluefur’s secret to keep. The larger shape started to make its way down the shore with a cluster of tiny shadows stumbling beside it. Spottedpaw gasped. Was Bluefur giving her kits away? Why would she do that?
She could think of only one reason: so that Bluefur could leave the nursery and take over as Clan deputy instead of Thistleclaw. This was a measure of how much she loved her Clanmates, and how much she feared Thistleclaw, even without seeing him in the Dark Forest.
Spottedpaw sighed. Thistleclaw has changed both our destinies, Bluefur. You will never realize how much you and I have in common.
“StarClan, please keep Bluefur’s kits safe. Let them grow bold and strong, and above all else, loved,” Spottedpaw prayed as she crouched among the bracken.
The air stirred around her and a warm, half-familiar scent drifted into her muzzle. Spottedpaw narrowed her eyes and saw the faintest white-furred shape slip through the stalks in front of her.
We will do our best, a voice breathed inside her mind. Thank you for trusting my sister, Spottedpaw.
“Snowfur?” Spottedpaw whispered. “Is that you?” But the ferns around her were still and silent, and the pale shape had vanished into the falling snow.
Bluefur and I will do our best, too, Spottedpaw vowed. I will never be foolish or blind again. Thistleclaw has shown me where my destiny truly lies. From now on, my heart belongs to my Clan.
PINESTAR’S CHOICE
DEDICATION
For Susi Plattner—Clanmate, friend, and Warriors expert
Special thanks to Victoria Holmes
ALLEGIANCES
THUNDERCLAN
LEADER OAKSTAR—sturdy brown tom with amber eyes
DEPUTY DOEFEATHER—pale fawn-and-white she-cat with amber eyes
APPRENTICE, DAISYPAW
MEDICINE CAT CLOUDBERRY—long-furred white she-cat with yellow eyes
WARRIORS (toms and she-cats without kits)
MISTPELT—thick-furred gray she-cat with green eyes
APPRENTICE, PINEPAW
NETTLEBREEZE—ginger tom
APPRENTICE, FLASHPAW
SWEETBRIAR—light brown tabby she-cat with white paws
MUMBLEFOOT—brown tom with amber eyes
FLAMENOSE—ginger tom with amber eyes
LARKSONG—tortoiseshell she-cat, pale green eyes
ROOKTAIL—black tom with blue eyes
WINDFLIGHT—gray tabby tom with pale green eyes
HAREPOUNCE—light brown she-cat with yellow eyes
SQUIRRELWHISKER—brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes
APPRENTICE, LITTLEPAW
HOLLYPELT—black she-cat with green eyes
RAINFUR—speckled ginger-and-white she-cat with amber eyes
STAGLEAP—gray tabby tom with amber eyes
FALLOWSONG—light brown she-cat
DAPPLETAIL—tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat
APPRENTICES (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)
FLASHPAW—dark ginger she-cat with a white muzzle
DAISYPAW—gray-and-white she-cat with yellow eyes
PINEPAW—red-brown tom with green eyes
LITTLEPAW—black-and-white tom with blue eyes
ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired)
DEERDAPPLE—silver-and-black tabby she-cat
SEEDPELT—gray she-cat
BLOOMHEART—gray tabby tom
THRUSHTALON—light brown tabby tom
MAPS
CHAPTER ONE
“And this, young Pinepaw, is Twolegplace!” Mistpelt pointed with her tail to the tall wooden fence that ran along the edge of the trees.
Pinepaw tipped back his head to look at the top of the fence. It stretched away on either side of him, all the way to the ends of the forest. “Did the Twolegs build the fence to keep us out?” he asked.
Mistpelt purred with amusement. “We’re not that scary! I think they wanted to mark their border, just as we mark ours, but they’re too lazy to send out patrols. Just like any other Clan border, you must remember that we are not welcome on the other side.” The warrior’s eyes gleamed, startlingly green against her pale gray fur. “That’s not to say we can’t have a poke around over there when we wish, though. It’s nothing like the forest, that’s for sure!”
She started to pad away along the edge of the trees, her belly fur brushing the long grass. The scents of greenleaf hung heavy in the air and the breeze tasted of pollen and sap.
Pinepaw stayed where he was, trying to imagine what could be so different on the other side of the fence. Were the trees a different color? What sort of dens did Twolegs live in? He spotted a small hole in the fence, just at the level of his ears. He crept up to it and peered through.
A huge yellow eye glared back at him. Pinepaw squealed and leaped backward. There was a mad scrabble of claws and a deafening rattle of wood as Mistpelt hurtled up the fence and balanced on the top, arching her back and screeching.
“Leave my apprentice alone, you mangy furball! Too frightened to come over here and face us, aren’t you? Go back to your Twolegs, fox-brain!”
She jumped down again and nodded to Pinepaw. “Nothing but a fat old kittypet,” she meowed, sounding rather out of breath. She dipped her head to lick the fur on her chest. “You’ll chase them off yourself next time.”
Pinepaw glanced nervously back at the hole. Was the kittypet still watching him? He was sure he’d have bad dreams about monstrous eyes peering through holes for the rest of his life. He kept close to Mistpelt’s flank as she padded away, resisting the urge to glance back and see if they were being tracked.
“I don’t mind if I never see a kittypet again,” he muttered.
Mistpelt purred. “Oh you will, but they won’t frighten you. Their teeth and claws are as blunt as stones, and they’re all scared of their own shadow!” She nodded toward a thick swath of brambles that blocked their path. “Beyond that is the Thunderpath. Can you hear it?”
Pinepaw paused to listen to the steady growl of monsters rumbling past. They didn’t seem as alarming as the kittypet because he knew they never left the hard black stone. The biggest danger here was encountering trespassing warriors from ShadowClan, who lived on the other side. Mistpelt led him into the prickly brambles and Pinepaw peeked out at the blurred shapes of monsters rushing past. A stench-filled, warm wind buffeted his fur and he shrank back, trying not to gag.
“We won’t go any closer than this,” Mistpelt warned. “You’ll learn how to cross the Thunderpath when you go to the Moonstone, but that won’t be for a while.”
Pinepaw felt a prickle of excitement beneath his fur. His whole life seemed to be rolling out before him, as clearly as if he were gazing down at it from the top of a tree. This was only his first day as an apprentice, and already he had encountered kittypets and monsters! He wondered if they would come across the other apprentices, who were all out training with their mentors. Pinepaw was used to being alone, as he didn’t have any littermates, but he was looking forward to training with the others, and trying out for real the battle moves he had attempted as a kit
.
He followed his mentor along the territory border, a few tail-lengths from the rumbling Thunderpath. The gritty scent of the monsters clung to every leaf and blade of grass, and Pinepaw wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it off his fur later. Ahead of him, Mistpelt halted abruptly, her ears pricked. Pinepaw could see flashes of bright orange between the trees, and throaty Twoleg bellows cut through the growl of monsters.
“We’ll have to go around them,” Mistpelt whispered. “I don’t think they’d be interested in us, but let’s not take any risks.” She crouched down and crawled into the bracken, away from the Thunderpath and the cluster of Twolegs who stood at the edge. Pinepaw hung back, trying to peer through the trunks to see what they were doing. They all had shiny orange pelts and hard white heads that reflected the sun. Two of them were standing in a muddy hole at the edge of the Thunderpath, and another was prodding the ground with a stick.
“Come on!” Mistpelt hissed in Pinepaw’s ear, making him jump. He’d been so busy watching the Twolegs, he hadn’t heard his mentor return. “What are you waiting for?”
“I was trying to see what they’re up to,” Pinepaw whispered back.
“Curious apprentices get their noses bitten,” Mistpelt teased. “Oakstar sent a patrol out here last night. It looks like the Twolegs are digging a tunnel under the Thunderpath, where it gets very boggy.”
“Cool!” breathed Pinepaw.
His mentor looked at him. “Hardly. We don’t want to make it easy for ShadowClan to wander into our territory, do we?” Her tone was dry, and Pinepaw ducked his head, feeling foolish.
They pushed through the bracken and headed away from the Thunderpath. Pinepaw’s legs were aching and his pads were stinging from thorns and stones. He had never walked so far in his life! He didn’t know how patrols managed to go all around the territory every single day. The noise of the Thunderpath faded away, and soon Pinepaw could hear the gentle splash of running water.