Crookedstar's Promise Page 13

  “Well done, Oakheart.” Shellheart touched his nose to Oakheart’s ear.

  Rainflower pressed against her warrior kit. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Oakheart’s gaze caught Crookedpaw’s. “It’s your turn next,” he purred.

  Rainflower flicked her ears. “Does that matter right now?” she murmured. “He’ll never be as good as you.” Her words sliced through Crookedpaw’s heart like claws.

  Shellheart’s head snapped around and he glared at his former mate. Rage blazed in his eyes. “Can’t you keep your thoughts to yourself, just once?”

  Why did she have to spoil it? Crookedpaw fought the anger tightening his throat.

  “Ignore her,” Oakheart urged, steering Crookedpaw away. His eyes grew bright. “Look!” He glanced up at the round moon. “You know what night it is?”

  “Full moon?”

  “The Gathering!”

  Of course! Crookedpaw felt a surge of excitement. He was an apprentice now. He could go! He glanced anxiously at Hailstar. Couldn’t he?

  Oakheart nudged him. “Hailstar has to let you come!” he promised. “You’re an apprentice and I’m a warrior. Only a frog-brain would stop us from going to the Gathering tonight!”

  Chapter 13

  Crookedpaw’s breath billowed in the cold air and turned to ice on his whiskers. Frosted snow cracked underpaw as he followed his Clanmates down the bank toward the river. His pelt pricked with excitement. His first Gathering! He pressed against Oakheart.

  “Will we use the Twoleg bridge?”

  Hailstar was leading the patrol along the shore toward the wooden crossing. The frozen river shone silver below as it snaked up into the gorge.

  “It’s the safest way to cross tonight,” Oakheart whispered.

  Warriors never made use of Twoleg paths if they could help it, but the frozen river was untested, and the stepping-stones were too icy to risk. Hailstar jumped over the low fence on to the bridge and landed in churned snow. Brightsky followed, her paws slithering on the frosty rail. Petaldust ducked under it as Beetlenose scrambled over.

  “Hurry up, you two!” Cedarpelt called over his shoulder.

  Crookedpaw bounded forward, Oakheart’s pelt brushing his as they skidded down the bank. Owlfur and Ottersplash slipped on to the bridge just ahead of them, their pelts sharply outlined against the white ground. Brambleberry, her pelt pale as the snow, followed like a ghost behind them.

  Shellheart paused beside Cedarpelt and let Crookedpaw and Oakheart pass. “I hope it’s a peaceful Gathering,” he mewed.

  Cedarpelt sniffed. “Surely even ThunderClan wouldn’t break the full moon truce?”

  As the two warriors fell in behind, Crookedpaw glanced over his shoulder. “WindClan might,” he predicted.

  “They’ll still be angry that ThunderClan attacked their camp,” Oakheart agreed.

  Shellheart padded on to the bridge. “We’re angry they took Graykit and Willowkit,” he pointed out. “But we won’t fight over them tonight.”

  Crookedpaw pricked his ears. “When will we fight over them?”

  Shellheart glanced at Hailstar. “Probably never,” he muttered.

  Crookedpaw peered over the side of the bridge. Moonlight glared on the ice. He looked up, blinking, and saw his Clanmates streaming up the slope toward ThunderClan territory. “Aren’t we going to follow the path beside the waterfall?”

  Oakheart shook his head. “There’s a truce,” he reminded him. “We can cross ThunderClan territory straight to the hollow tonight.”

  Crookedpaw was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the short, steep rise. Oakheart had already disappeared into the trees crowding on either side. He gazed up at the looming trunks, wrinkling his nose.

  “Don’t you like it?” Brambleberry had waited for him.

  “It smells horrible.” Crookedpaw shivered. The bushes growing around the trunks were drenched with ThunderClan scent.

  “Are you excited about the Gathering?” Brambleberry asked gently.

  “Yeah!” Why wouldn’t he be?

  “I’m very proud of you,” she murmured. “After you broke your jaw I thought you’d never become an apprentice.” She glanced at him. “But you’ve grown so strong, I hardly recognize you.” A purr rolled in her throat as she quickened her pace and caught up with the rest of the patrol.

  Crookedpaw watched their pelts flashing through the undergrowth. Drifts of snow hemmed the trail even here where the sky was hardly visible.

  “No wonder ThunderClan wants Sunningrocks,” Crookedpaw muttered to himself. “They must never see the sun in here.” He was relieved when they broke out of the forest and wind swept the stink of ThunderClan from his pelt.

  As his Clanmates halted, Crookedpaw fluffed out his pelt. The land sloped away at his paw tips, opening into a wide valley. In the middle, four great oaks guarded a clearing. Fourtrees.

  Brightsky paced the crest of the slope. “We’re the last to arrive.”

  Mudfur tasted the air. “ThunderClan just got here.”

  “It’s very quiet,” Petaldust whispered.

  Crookedpaw narrowed his eyes. Countless pelts swarmed between the four oaks, shoaling like fish around a huge boulder. That must be the Great Rock!

  A growl rumbled in Hailstar’s throat. “They’ve started without us.” The RiverClan leader plunged down the slope, snow flying in his wake. Owlfur and Shellheart followed, Beetlenose and Mudfur on their tail.

  “Come on!” Oakheart bounded after them.

  Crookedpaw hesitated.

  Cedarpelt’s nudged him. “Are you ready?”

  To be announced as a RiverClan apprentice? To meet the other Clans as an equal? Yes!

  Energy fizzed beneath his pelt. “Let’s go!” Crookedpaw leaped over the edge and streamed down the slope with his Clanmates. Moonlight lit their glossy pelts as they raced for the clearing. Crookedpaw pushed harder, catching up with them as they skidded to a halt beneath a gigantic oak. He stared up through the branches, his eyes wide. It was bigger than any tree in RiverClan territory. It was even bigger than ThunderClan’s trees. He felt dizzy. Did the top branches touch the stars?

  “Come on.” Hailstar flicked his tail and pushed into the crowd.

  Crookedpaw scanned the sea of pelts, confused by jumbled scents. Oakheart slid among the gathered cats and disappeared as Hailstar jumped onto the Great Rock, where three other cats waited, starlight glinting in their eyes.

  Crookedpaw looked at his mentor. “Which way do I go?”

  “Follow me.” Cedarpelt nudged his way between two tabby toms.

  The toms leaned aside to let him pass and Crookedpaw followed, keeping his nose to Cedarpelt’s tail until they stopped in the middle.

  “It’s warmer here,” Cedarpelt murmured.

  Crookedpaw, hot with excitement, wished it wasn’t. He turned on the spot, staring. He’d never seen so many cats. Where were his Clanmates? His heart lurched as he spotted Reedfeather. The WindClan warrior sat among his Clanmates, staring up at the Great Rock, ears flattened against the cold. Crookedpaw stretched up, balancing on his hind legs to get a better look.

  “Don’t stare.” Cedarpelt nudged him and he stumbled forward.

  “Watch out!” A pale gray she-cat with ThunderClan scent turned and hissed at him as he fell against her. Her long fur quivered with annoyance. “You nearly knocked me over!” She stopped and stared at him.

  For the first time in moons, Crookedpaw remembered his twisted jaw. He shrank beneath his pelt. Why did she have to stare like he was a talking frog? He swallowed and steadied himself with a deep breath. “Hi,” he mewed. “I’m Crookedpaw.”

  “Crookedpaw?”

  Her eyes were round and blue and hid nothing. He could see her thoughts. She knows it’s not my paws that are crooked. “I’m guessing my warrior name will be Crookedjaw,” he joked half-heartedly.

  She was still staring at him.

  He swallowed back irritation. Were all ThunderClan cats this rude?<
br />
  “Unless”—he flicked his tail under her nose—“my tail goes the same way. Then Hailstar might have to rethink.”

  The gray cat shifted her paws. Crookedpaw frowned. Okay. ThunderClan cats are rude. “I should have guessed cats would stare at me.”

  “I’m sorry!” Guilt sparked in her gaze. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

  Crookedpaw lifted his chin. “I’d better get used to it,” he mewed. “Until everyone gets used to me.” Why bother being upset over something he couldn’t change? “At least no one forgets my name,” he pointed out. “What’s yours?”

  “Bluepaw.”

  Crookedpaw sat back on his haunches and looked at her. “You’re not very blue.”

  Bluepaw purred. “I look more blue in daylight.”

  Crookedpaw glanced around at the Clans. “Is this your first Gathering?”

  Bluepaw shook her head.

  “Then you know what’s going on?” he asked. “What do the leaders talk about?”

  “If you listened you might find out!” Cedarpelt hissed sharply.

  Crookedpaw ducked forward and whispered in Bluepaw’s ear. “Which one is Pinestar?”

  Bluepaw flicked her tail toward a reddish-brown tom on the rock. Oh, yes! Crookedpaw recognized him from Sunningrocks. The ThunderClan leader’s eyes shone green in the moonlight, his powerful shoulders rippling as he moved to give Hailstar more space.

  “Why haven’t you come before?” Bluepaw was looking at him curiously. “You must have been an apprentice for moons.”

  “I was apprenticed late,” Crookedpaw whispered. “I was a pretty sickly kit.” Why bother giving the details? “Not anymore though.” He puffed out his chest. “I think I surprised my Clanmates by growing this big.”

  Bluepaw’s whiskers twitched. Warmth lit her blue eyes.

  “Hush!” A pretty tortoiseshell warrior leaned over. “The leaders are speaking.”

  “Sorry.” Crookedpaw waited for her to turn away, then whispered in Bluepaw’s ear, “Which one’s Heatherstar?” He wanted to know what Willowkit’s new leader looked like.

  “The small one. Cedarstar’s next to her.” ShadowClan’s leader. Bluepaw nodded toward a small knot of cats gathered at the side of the Great Rock. Brambleberry was sitting with them and Crookedpaw guessed they must be the Clans’ medicine cats. “That’s Goosefeather, our medicine cat. . . .”

  Crookedpaw blinked. It was the cat who’d chased him on the stepping-stones, when he’d fallen in. He scowled. If that fleabag hadn’t chased me, I wouldn’t have broken my jaw. I’d be Stormpaw now! I might even be a warrior—

  Bluepaw interrupted his thoughts. “. . . and the white cat is Sagewhisker, the ShadowClan medicine cat.” She shuddered as she pointed out a tom beside Sagewhisker. “That’s Hawkheart.” There was a snarl in her mew.

  “Don’t you like him?”

  “He killed my mother.”

  Crookedpaw swallowed. At least Rainflower’s still alive. Without thinking, he touched Bluepaw’s cheek with his tail, whisking it away as he remembered she was from another Clan. “Where are the deputies?” he asked quickly.

  A bright ginger tom turned his sharp yellow gaze on them. “The ThunderClan deputy is right in front of you, and he’ll pull out your whiskers if you don’t do as you’re told and be quiet!”

  Crookedpaw rolled his eyes at Bluepaw. Were all senior warriors bossy? She stifled a purr as she turned to watch the leaders. Crookedpaw followed her gaze. The Great Rock was sunk deep into the earth, as though dropped from Silverpelt by StarClan.

  Heatherstar stood at the edge. “We have restocked our medicine supplies.” Her eyes flashed toward the ThunderClan cats. “And all our elders and kits have finally recovered from the unprovoked attack by ThunderClan.”

  A ThunderClan tom growled. “We fought only warriors! No kit or elder was attacked.”

  “Or stolen.” Crookedpaw heard Ottersplash’s bitter mew. The white-and-ginger she-cat was staring at Reedfeather.

  The WindClan warrior turned. “They weren’t stolen,” he growled. “They were taken home.”

  A WindClan tom beside him snapped his head around and glared at Ottersplash. She didn’t flinch, meeting the gaze, chin high. Owlfur pushed through the crowd and lined up beside Ottersplash.

  “Calm down,” Cedarpelt warned through gritted teeth. “Don’t forget the truce.”

  Owlfur narrowed his eyes. “Like Hailstar’s forgotten Willowkit and Graykit?”

  “I’m glad Fallowtail’s not here,” Beetlenose hissed over the heads of a knot of ThunderClan warriors.

  Reedfeather whipped around and stared at the young tom. “Let her come next time,” he snarled. “Then I can tell her how much our kits prefer eating rabbit to fish!”

  Crookedpaw unsheathed his claws. Pelts were bristling around him. Growls rumbled ominously. Bluepaw tensed. Crookedpaw smelled her fear scent. He stared at the leaders on the rock. They shifted their paws, as though each was unwilling to be the first to call for calm.

  “Great StarClan! It’s cold!” Crookedpaw pressed against Bluepaw, hoping to distract her. She flinched at his touch, then relaxed.

  Pinestar stepped forward. “ThunderClan is thriving despite the snow.”

  Beetlenose was pushing through the crowd toward Reedfeather. “No cat with a drop of RiverClan blood could enjoy rabbit,” he snarled. Reedfeather’s hackles lifted. He showed his teeth as Beetlenose neared him.

  “Beetlenose!” Shellheart slid through the crowd, blocking the young warrior’s path. “What in the name of StarClan do you think you’re doing?” He pressed Beetlenose back, steering him to the edge of the crowd and clamping the black warrior’s tail to the ground with one paw. “Stay here!”

  Hailstar was padding to the edge of the Great Rock. The RiverClan leader lifted his muzzle. “RiverClan has been free from Twolegs since the snows came.”

  “Except those Twoleg kits!” Ottersplash called.

  Owlfur answered his Clanmate. “They won’t be back for a while!”

  Crookedpaw purred. “That’ll teach them to slide on the ice.”

  Bluepaw gasped. “Did they fall in?”

  “They only got their paws wet,” Crookedpaw reassured her. “Mouse-brains!” He felt pleased he’d used a ThunderClan word. “Every RiverClan kit knows to stay off the ice unless a warrior’s tested it first.”

  Hailstar flicked his tail. “Fishing is good despite the ice.” His gaze scanned his Clan. Crookedpaw leaned forward, excited, as it settled on Oakheart. “And we have one new warrior. Welcome, Oakheart!”

  WindClan cheered, ShadowClan’s voices joining them in welcoming the Clan’s newest warrior.

  “That’s my brother,” Crookedpaw told Bluepaw.

  She blinked at him. “Who?”

  “Oakheart,” Crookedpaw explained. “He’s my littermate.”

  Bluepaw stretched up to get a better view.

  “He’s great,” Crookedpaw purred proudly. “He caught a fish on his first day as an apprentice.” The day I ran away. He pushed the memory away. “He says that when he becomes leader, he’ll make me deputy.” Should I warn him I plan on being leader first?

  “I have a sister,” Bluepaw shot back. She nodded toward a snowy she-cat sitting a tail-length away. “She’s a brilliant hunter, too.”

  “Maybe if they both become leader we could be deputies together,” Crookedpaw mewed politely.

  Bluepaw frowned. “Deputy? I want to be leader!”

  Yeah! Me, too!

  Bluepaw’s tortoiseshell Clanmate flicked her ear with a paw. “Hush!” The warrior sounded cross. “How many times do you have to be told?”

  “Sorry.” Bluepaw dipped her head.

  Crookedpaw turned back to the Great Rock. Cedarstar was speaking. “It is with sadness that I must announce our deputy, Stonetooth, is moving to the elders’ den.”

  A thin gray tabby, standing at the foot of the rock, nodded solemnly as his Clan called his name.

  “He d
oesn’t look so old,” Bluepaw whispered.

  The gray tom’s teeth curled from under his lip like claws. Crookedpaw choked back a purr. “Just a bit long in the tooth.”

  Bluepaw nudged Crookedpaw, purring, too. “He can’t help it.”

  “Raggedpelt will take his place,” Cedarstar went on.

  A dark brown warrior stalked from the crowd of ShadowClan cats into a pool of moonlight below the rock. Crookedpaw noticed the fur lifting along Bluepaw’s spine as Raggedpelt’s Clanmates yowled his name. She was watching the ShadowClan cats gathered at the foot of the rock through narrowed eyes. She doesn’t trust them at all. Was it just because they were ShadowClan? Maybe there would be time to ask her later.

  As the leaders jumped down from the Great Rock, he watched the Clans melting into their separate groups. He tasted the air, collecting scents as he memorized as many pelts as he could.

  “Come on.” Cedarpelt nudged him. “Let’s go. It’s too cold to hang around and share tongues.” He threw a look at WindClan as they climbed the other side of the hollow, heading up to the moors. “And I don’t think any Clan would want to share tongues tonight, even if it was greenleaf.”

  Crookedpaw followed his mentor. “Are the Clans always so angry with one another?”

  Cedarpelt twitched his ears. “Leaf-bare makes bellies hungry and tempers short.”

  Oakheart’s mew made Crookedpaw jump. “What did you think?”

  Crookedpaw purred as his brother fell in beside him. “It was great,” he replied. “I met a ThunderClan apprentice. She’s so much like us.” He lowered his voice. “She wants to be leader, too.”

  “Doesn’t every apprentice want to be leader one day?” Oakheart answered airily.

  “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about wanting to be leader now that you’re a warrior?” Crookedpaw teased.

  “Never.” Oakheart’s eyes flashed and he quickened his pace, skimming the snow with long strides as he followed his Clanmates up the slope. “Come on, I’ll race you back to camp!”

  Crookedpaw blinked open his eyes. He stared into the dark forest, surprised to find himself dreaming. After the Gathering, too excited to sleep, he’d stared for ages through a small crack in the den wall at the moonlight sparkling on the snowy clearing. His mind was whirling with new pelts and scents and possibilities.