Crookedstar's Promise Read online

  Graykit spun around. “What’s happening?”

  Hailstar stared at the queen. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Reedfeather is right. Our kits will fare better in WindClan. And we cannot risk war over my . . . my mistake.”

  Graykit scrambled after her mother, but Hailstar nudged the kit away with his muzzle. “You’re going to live in your father’s Clan,” he meowed softly.

  Willowkit stiffened. “How can he be our father? I’ve never seen him before!”

  “He smells horrid!” Graykit flinched away as Reedfeather sniffed each kit gently.

  “You’ll be well taken care of,” he told them. “WindClan is looking forward to meeting you.”

  Willowkit searched desperately for her mother’s gaze but Fallowtail stared at the ground. Crookedpaw wanted to race from where his paws were rooted and beg the queen not to let them go. But, like his Clanmates, he sat in silence as Hailstar nudged the kits toward their father.

  “No!” Graykit yelped in terror as Reedfeather scooped her up. “Fallowtail!”

  He padded toward the camp entrance.

  Willowkit stared wildly around the Clan. “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

  “Willowkit!” Graykit struggled. “Don’t leave me!”

  Stumbling, Willowkit followed. “I’m coming, Graykit! I’m coming!”

  As they disappeared through the tunnel, Hailstar padded slowly to his den.

  Birdsong pressed against Fallowtail. “They won’t forget you.”

  Shimmerpelt rubbed her muzzle against the queen’s cheek. “You’ll see them again. They’ll always be your kits.”

  Fallowtail tore away from her Clanmates and staggered toward the nursery.

  Rippleclaw snorted. “What does she want to go there for?”

  Ottersplash spun around and hissed at the silver warrior. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

  Crookedpaw darted after the grief-stricken queen and squeezed into the nursery after her. He searched for words to comfort her as she collapsed into her nest.

  How could anyone let a queen be separated from her kits? His heart ached for Willowkit and Graykit. They’d be terrified without their mother. He crouched down beside Fallowtail and pressed against her trembling flank. “I wouldn’t have let him take them,” he whispered. “If I was leader.”

  Chapter 12

  “No, no, no!” Cedarpelt’s frustrated yowl made Crookedpaw stop.

  He straightened up and blinked at his mentor. “What am I doing wrong?”

  A lump of snow dropped from an icy branch overhead and landed on his back. He shook it off. He could see across the meadow and beyond the river to the snow-whitened moorlands. The frosted beeches behind them were stark against the gray leaf-bare sky; the marsh meadow stretching below them sparkled, smoothed by snow, and the small clearing beside the beech copse, where they’d been practicing battle moves all afternoon, was icy underpaw.

  Cedarpelt sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you? When you’re attacking, bush out your fur! StarClan gave RiverClan thick pelts for a reason. Bush it out and you’ll look twice as big as your enemy. And a frightened enemy is already half-beaten.”

  Crookedpaw flicked his tail. “The other Clans know that!” Mapleshade was always telling him to slick down his fur and fool his opponent into thinking he looked weaker than he was. “It’s just fur, and fur never hurt anyone.”

  “In the middle of battle, there’s no time to think,” Cedarpelt insisted. “If you see a big warrior, you don’t wonder how much is fur and how much is muscle.” His breath billowed in the icy air. “You just react.”

  “Okay, okay!” Crookedpaw snapped. “If you want bushed-out fur, you can have bushed-out fur.” He fluffed up his pelt. “Big enough?” He couldn’t wait for his first battle so he could find out for himself which mentor was right.

  Cedarpelt’s whiskers twitched.

  “What?” Crookedpaw snorted.

  A purr rumbled in his mentor’s throat. “You never do things by halves.” He shook his head. “You look like a pinecone.”

  Crookedpaw’s irritation dissolved. “Make up your mind,” he mewed. As he shook his pelt back into place, a sound made his ears prick.

  “What is it?” Cedarpelt darted beside him, hackles twitching as he scanned the marsh.

  “Look.” Crookedpaw flicked his tail toward the dark pelts moving toward them across the snow. He tasted the freezing air. RiverClan.

  “Piketooth!” Cedarpelt hailed the snaggle-toothed warrior, who was already bounding up the slope.

  Beetlenose ducked ahead of his Clanmate and reached the beech copse first. “How’s training, Crookedpaw?” he called. “Getting the hang of it?”

  Crookedpaw scowled. You’re only a moon older than me! Beetlenose was acting as though he’d been made deputy instead of a warrior. At least it meant that he’d moved out of the apprentices’ den. Crookedpaw wasn’t going to miss his boasting, though he missed Voleclaw’s fish-brained jokes and Petaldust’s quiet encouragement. At least he still had Oakpaw for company.

  Crookedpaw sat down. What would happen when Oakpaw became a warrior? He’d be alone again, and now that Willowkit and Graykit were in WindClan, there weren’t even new ’paws to look forward to. He’d have to train by himself.

  “How’s hunting?” Cedarpelt asked Piketooth.

  “River’s frozen.” Piketooth tasted the air. “Any sign of birds up here?”

  Cedarpelt shook his head.

  “We were just at the WindClan border.” Piketooth stared across the snowy marsh. “We saw Reedfeather. He wanted to share news.”

  Cedarpelt’s ears pricked. “How are the kits?”

  “Doing well.” Piketooth was frowning. Crookedpaw tensed as the warrior went on. “He warned us to watch out for ThunderClan. They raided WindClan’s camp.”

  “The camp?” Cedarpelt blinked.

  Crookedpaw gasped. “Did they attack the nursery?”

  Piketooth shook his head. “They were trying to steal herbs.”

  “Anyone hurt?” Cedarpelt asked.

  “ThunderClan lost a warrior—Moonflower.” Piketooth flexed his claws.

  Beetlenose growled. “Serves them right.”

  Cedarpelt scowled at the young tom. “No warrior deserves to die!” He turned back to Piketooth. “Have you warned Hailstar?”

  “He was with us,” Piketooth meowed. “He’s gone back to camp to warn Brambleberry to hide her supplies.”

  “They won’t attack our camp.” Beetlenose paced through the frost, lashing his tail. “They don’t have the guts to cross the river even when it’s frozen!”

  Cedarpelt looked thoughtful. “Let’s hope so.” He beckoned Beetlenose with his tail. “Will you practice some battle moves with Crookedpaw? He knows my moves too well.”

  Crookedpaw rolled his eyes. “What makes you think I don’t know Beetlenose’s moves, too?”

  Beetlenose flattened his ears, ready for a fight. “We only trained together twice.”

  “That was enough.” Crookedpaw sniffed.

  Piketooth wove between the two young toms. “Let’s act like Clanmates.” He glanced at Crookedpaw. “You still have plenty to learn. Stop complaining. Beetlenose might teach you something.”

  Cedarpelt shrugged. “Crookedpaw thinks he’s learned enough.” He nodded to Beetlenose. “Can he try his front paw swipe on you?”

  “He can try.” Beetlenose dropped into a crouch.

  Smug frog-face! Crookedpaw ducked down and fluffed out his pelt. Energy surged in his muscles. He unsheathed his hind claws, digging them deep into the snow, then reared up. Black as a crow against the white snow, Beetlenose leaned back and raised his forepaws. Crookedpaw adjusted his balance, wrapped his tail around his hind legs, and swiped at Beetlenose. He blinked with surprise as Beetlenose dropped and darted behind him.

  Turning on his hind paws, Crookedpaw saw Beetlenose’s jaws snapping where his tail should’ve been. “You missed!” With a rush of satisfaction he
slammed down on the young warrior, knocking him flat on to his belly.

  “Ow!” Beetlenose wriggled from under him as Crookedpaw shifted his weight. “My chin!” He rubbed at it with a paw.

  “Crookedpaw!” Cedarpelt’s mew was sharp. “This is just practice!”

  “I had my foreclaws sheathed!” Crookedpaw protested. “And we were supposed to be practicing the front paw swipe! He was going for my tail!”

  “So?” Beetlenose squared up to Crookedpaw. “A warrior should be ready for anything!”

  “Then why weren’t you ready for my counterattack?” Crookedpaw spat back.

  “You hid your tail!” Beetlenose hissed. “That’s not fair! No cat hides his tail!”

  Cedarpelt’s gaze darkened. “ThunderClan cats do,” he meowed. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  Crookedpaw puffed out his chest. “Great, isn’t it? Did you see how I balanced even without my tail?” StarClan warriors must know the moves of every Clan.

  Cedarpelt narrowed his eyes. “It isn’t fair to use tricks.”

  “It wasn’t a trick!” Crookedpaw flashed a look at Piketooth. “I taught him a new move.”

  “Show some respect!” Cedarpelt snapped. “Beetlenose is a warrior. You’ve been an apprentice less than a moon. You’ve never even been to a Gathering.”

  Beetlenose’s tail-tip was twitching angrily. “Crookedpaw’s always thought he was better than any RiverClan cat.”

  Cedarpelt marched past the black warrior. “Let’s get back to camp,” he growled. “It’s freezing.”

  Crookedpaw watched his mentor bound down the slope, following the snow-covered trail back to camp. Guilt tugged in his belly. He hadn’t meant to show off. Beetlenose was just so annoying. I know stuff they don’t. Why do I have to hide it?

  No one spoke as they trekked back to camp. Crookedpaw fluffed out his pelt for warmth, pads frozen, breath billowing. The sedge tunnel was half-squashed with snow and Crookedpaw had to duck to squeeze through. Inside, the camp glowed purple in the setting sun. Snow draped the walls and the dens. It had been swept from the clearing but had drifted by the shore. The fallen tree was crisscrossed by trails to the warriors’ dens and frosted reeds spiked the frozen river.

  Cedarpelt headed for Hailstar’s den. Crookedpaw’s heart sank. His mentor was probably going to report him for disobedience.

  Beetlenose barged past him. “Serves you right!” Sniffing, he headed for the fresh-kill pile, where Petaldust and Echomist were already nosing through the fish. Crookedpaw’s belly growled. The fish smelled delicious.

  “Don’t worry.” Piketooth paused at Crookedpaw’s shoulder. “You won’t be the first ’paw in trouble, or the last.” He bounded across the clearing and touched muzzles with Shimmerpelt, his mate, who was sitting in a hollow dug out of the snow sharing a fat pike with Brightsky and Mudfur. She stood to greet him, then nodded toward the fresh-kill pile. Sighing, Crookedpaw watched Piketooth clamber toward the heap of fish.

  “Crookedpaw!” Cedarpelt called from outside Hailstar’s den. He beckoned with a flick of his tail. “Hailstar wants to talk to you.”

  Crookedpaw followed Cedarpelt’s snow-trail with heavy paws. “I’m sorry.” He reached Cedarpelt. “But—”

  Cedarpelt cut him off. “We’ll start over tomorrow.” The stout brown-striped tom tipped his head toward Hailstar’s den as the moss shivered and the RiverClan leader padded out. “He just wants to talk to you.”

  As Cedarpelt headed away, Crookedpaw turned toward Hailstar, shrinking beneath his pelt. “I didn’t hurt Beetlenose on purpose,” he began.

  Hailstar sat down. “I’m sure he’ll recover.” His amber eyes glowed in the early evening light. “I realize you’re in a hurry to finish your training—”

  “I’m trying to be patient. Really! It’s just hard . . .” Crookedpaw cut him off, then stumbled into silence as he realized he’d interrupted his leader. He shifted his paws. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t rush,” Hailstar began again. “Take your time. Learn what you need to learn, and learn it well.”

  Crookedpaw clamped his mouth shut as words tumbled through his head. But I know more than you think! I’m being trained by StarClan! Frustration made his claws itch as Hailstar went on.

  “You’ll be a warrior soon enough.” The old cat gazed up at the sky. The clouds had cleared and Silverpelt was beginning to show. “Enjoy your training. Have some fun before the responsibilities of—” Hailstar stopped.

  The distant shrieking of Twoleg kits shattered the air. Mudfur darted out of the snowy hollow and scrambled on to the frozen river. Tiptoeing carefully over the ice, he headed out past the reeds and peered along the channel.

  “Can you see anything?” Brightsky gingerly followed her mate, while the rest of the Clan watched in silence.

  “It’s a Twoleg kit!” Mudfur called back. “Upstream. It’s fallen through the ice.”

  Echomist rushed to Brightsky’s side and stared upriver. “It’ll drown!”

  “It has Clanmates with it,” Mudfur reported. “They’re pulling it out. And there’s a full-grown Twoleg on the bank.” He backed toward the shore, ducking among the reeds. “The kit’s out of the water.”

  Echomist sighed. “Let’s hope that’s the last we see of Twolegs this leaf-bare.”

  Crookedpaw pricked his ears. Paws were pounding through the snow beyond the sedge. Petaldust turned from the river, fur pricking. Piketooth dropped into a crouch and stared at the camp entrance. Crookedpaw tasted the air.

  Shellheart.

  The RiverClan deputy thundered into camp, eyes bright, tail bushed. Oakpaw and Owlfur raced in after him, Softwing on their tail.

  Softwing’s white pelt was bristling with excitement. “Oakpaw saved us!” She skidded to a halt, sending snow spattering over her Clanmates.

  “Shellheart?” Hailstar pricked his ears.

  Piketooth straightened. “What happened?”

  Shellheart lifted his tail. “We were attacked by a dog.”

  “A dog!” Brightsky bristled. “Where?”

  Softwing paced in front of Hailstar. “We were patrolling beyond the marsh, near the Twoleg place,” she panted. “It came out from under the fence and went straight for us.”

  “How big was it?” Hailstar asked.

  Shellheart’s ears twitched. “Three times my size.”

  Brambleberry stuck her head out from her den. “Any injuries?”

  “None.” Shellheart flicked his tail. “Oakpaw was too fast.”

  “He was so brave.” Softwing circled him.

  Rainflower crossed the clearing and nudged Softwing out of the way. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She licked Oakpaw’s ears.

  Oakpaw ducked away. “I’m fine.”

  Brambleberry was weaving among the patrol, sniffing their pelts.

  “It nearly got me!” Softwing’s eyes were round.

  Owlfur brushed against the white warrior, curling his tail protectively over her back. “It was a whisker away from her tail!”

  Shellheart plucked at the icy ground. “But Oakpaw turned around and distracted it.” He gazed proudly at his son.

  Owlfur nodded. “He raced right at it . . .”

  “. . . then reared up and slashed its muzzle,” Softwing finished.

  “I don’t know whether the dog was more surprised or hurt.” Shellheart wound around Oakpaw. “But while it was howling and whining, we had time to get up a tree.”

  Oakpaw looked at his paws. “I decided my claws were sharper than its teeth.”

  Rainflower’s eyes glowed. “You saved your Clanmates.”

  Oakpaw shrugged. “If I hadn’t, Shellheart would have done it.” He glanced at the others. “Or Owlfur or Softwing. I just got there first.”

  Hailstar fluffed out his fur. “You did well, Oakpaw.” He paced the clearing. “But if a dog has started targeting warriors, we must be wary.” He raised his muzzle. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words.”

 
He’s going to warn everyone about the dog. Crookedpaw nosed his way between Oakpaw and Shellheart. “Well done,” he whispered.

  Shellheart was purring. “You’d have been proud if you’d seen him, Crookedpaw.”

  I’m proud even though I didn’t see him! Crookedpaw shot a warm glance at his brother.

  Brambleberry brushed against him. “Courage must run in the family,” she murmured.

  Rainflower touched Oakpaw’s muzzle with her own. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

  Troutclaw padded stiffly down the slope. “What’s happening?”

  “Dog attack,” Softwing called.

  Tanglewhisker slid out of the elders’ den with Birdsong behind him. “Dog?” His eyes widened. “Where?”

  “By the Twolegplace,” Owlfur explained. “Oakpaw fought it off.”

  Fallowtail slid out of the warriors’ den. In the moon since Reedfeather took her kits, she’d grown thin and unkempt. “Did it follow them home?” She scanned the snow-covered reeds.

  Echomist hurried to her side. “No, it’s gone. We’re safe,” she soothed.

  As the Clan gathered, Hailstar padded to the middle of the clearing. “Oakpaw showed bravery tonight that has made him worthy of his warrior name.”

  Oakpaw gasped. Crookedpaw stared at him in astonishment. He was going to be made a warrior! Right now! What if he makes it to leader before me, too?

  “Go on, Oakpaw.” Shellheart nudged him forward.

  “Oakpaw.” Hailstar dipped his wide gray head. Oakpaw’s glossy pelt glinted red under the round, rising moon. “From this moment on you shall be known as Oakheart,” Hailstar meowed. “StarClan honors your courage and your quick wits, and we welcome you as a full warrior of RiverClan.” He pressed his muzzle to Oakheart’s head. “Serve your Clan well.”

  Crookedpaw felt a surge of pride as his Clanmates raised their voices to call Oakheart’s new name. But as he joined in, his voice caught in his throat. Why has it been so easy for you? The thought stung. He pushed it away. Who cares why? I’ll be a warrior soon and we’ll hunt and fight side by side!

  “Oakheart! Oakheart!” He raised his voice to the darkening sky.

  Purring, Oakheart padded from the clearing and stopped beside Crookedpaw. “Wow!” His eyes shone. “I didn’t think it would feel this good!”