Crookedstar's Promise Read online

  Crookedpaw couldn’t help wondering if it was WindClan’s memories or Graypaw’s that Cedarpelt was frightened of stirring up. He was relieved when they reached the WindClan scent line. Beyond it, the world seemed to open like a water lily. The wide valley between the moors and Highstones was green with newleaf growth. The sun warmed Crookedpaw’s back as they padded along the hedgerows that bordered the Twoleg meadows. From time to time, he recognized a familiar scent on his tongue, and for the first time in moons he longed to taste mouse.

  “Crookedpaw!” Cedarpelt’s call startled him.

  He suddenly realized that he’d veered off the track they’d been following and was staring through a beech hedge into a furrowed field of mud.

  “Keep up!” Cedarpelt ordered.

  Crookedpaw raced after his Clanmates. Was that Mitzi’s cornfield? He glanced sideways through the hedge as he caught up with Willowpaw. Where was the golden corn? Then he remembered the giant corn-eating monster and bristled.

  Willowpaw looked at him. “Are you okay? It must be weird, coming back here after so long.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She slowed her pace and they fell behind the others. “You’re thinking about Fleck, aren’t you?”

  “Weren’t you thinking about WindClan when you were traveling through the moorland?” he countered.

  Her gaze flicked away. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

  Crookedpaw sighed. “It’s possible to care about cats outside the Clan and be loyal.”

  “Is it?”

  “Crookedkit!” A loud mew made them both turn.

  A black cat stood a few tail-lengths behind them on the track.

  “Soot?” Crookedpaw gasped.

  The young she-cat ran toward him. She was as big as Willowpaw now. “I didn’t think you’d come back!”

  “We’re going to the Moonstone,” Crookedpaw explained.

  Cedarpelt’s growl rumbled behind them. “What’s going on?”

  Crookedpaw whirled around, heart lurching. Was Cedarpelt going to chase Soot off?

  “I-it’s just a cat I knew when . . .” He stammered to a halt as Cedarpelt glowered at him.

  “Wow!” Soot breathed. “A real warrior!” She stared at Cedarpelt. “You’re so big.” Her green eyes were wide.

  Cedarpelt growled softly.

  Crookedpaw stood between his mentor and Soot and met Cedarpelt’s gaze. “She’s hardly more than a kit.” There was a warning in his mew. “She’s not doing any harm.”

  Cedarpelt narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be long,” he muttered, and stalked back to where Owlfur, Brightsky, and Graypaw were waiting farther up the track. “Leave them alone, Willowpaw!” he called. “It’s bad enough having one apprentice hanging out with farm cats.”

  Crookedpaw ignored the jibe. “How are you?” he purred to Soot. “How are Fleck and Mitzi? And Piper and Magpie and Mist?”

  “Fleck’s fine!” Soot wound around Crookedpaw, brushing against him and purring. “So are Mitzi and Piper.” Then she paused. “I think Mist and Magpie are okay. Some Twolegs came and took them away. Fleck says they were going to catch mice on another farm. What about you? Are you a warrior yet?”

  Crookedpaw shook his head. “No, but I’m an apprentice. I’m Crookedpaw now.”

  Soot blinked. “Is that good?”

  “It’s great!”

  “Hurry up!” Cedarpelt called.

  “I’ve got to go.” Crookedpaw felt a tug in his chest.

  “I’ll tell Fleck and Mitzi I saw you,” Soot promised. “They’ll be pleased you’re okay.”

  “Tell them I said . . .” He reached for the right words, something that would let them know he missed them and he was grateful but he was also happy to be back with his Clan.

  Soot’s eyes glowed. “I understand,” she mewed. “I’ll tell them.”

  Cedarpelt was lashing his tail. “Come on!”

  Crookedpaw began to back away from Soot. “I’m really glad I saw you.”

  “Me too!” The young cat waved her tail as Crookedpaw turned and sprinted to catch up with his Clanmates.

  “Everything okay?” Willowpaw asked in a whisper as he fell in beside her.

  Crookedpaw nodded, one eye on his mentor’s flicking tail. It’s not up to Cedarpelt to tell me who I can be friends with! Those cats made me feel wanted when my Clanmates didn’t. I’m never going to forget that.

  Highstones reared above them, the setting sun melting over its peaks. The last Thunderpath had been the hardest to cross, the gaps between monsters so narrow that Willowpaw was still trembling from the mad dash across the slippery stone. Crookedpaw forced his pelt to lie flat even though his heart was still racing. Brightsky led them quickly away from the bitter stench up toward the foot of Highstones. The earth was darker here, the grass coarser underpaw, giving way to bare, rocky soil dotted with patches of clinging heather.

  “Look!” Willowpaw tilted her chin.

  Crookedpaw screwed up his eyes against the sun sliding down behind the peaks. As it disappeared, the shadowed slope lightened and he could make out a square black hole yawning darkly beneath a stone archway.

  Graypaw gasped. “Is that Mothermouth?”

  “Yes.” Owlfur climbed onto a wide, smooth stone and sat down. “But we have to wait till nearly moonhigh before we go in.”

  “I’m hungry,” Willowpaw complained.

  Brightsky shook her head. “No fish or birds here,” she meowed sympathetically.

  Crookedpaw pricked his ears. “There may be mice.” He tasted the air. There was definitely a musky scent worth investigating.

  Cedarpelt turned. “Mice?”

  “They’re easy to hunt,” Crookedpaw enthused.

  “Not as nice as fish,” Brightsky meowed. “But I suppose they’ll fill your belly.”

  “If you can catch one,” Cedarpelt snorted.

  Is that a challenge? Crookedpaw hurried away across the slope, ears scanning the gravelly earth for the scrabbling of tiny paws. He ducked behind a patch of heather and waited. The sky darkened and stars began to prick the sky. Crookedpaw’s nose twitched.

  Mouse?

  He peered through the shadows. Something was shifting the pebbles farther along the slope. It smelled musky but was making a lot of noise for a mouse. Suddenly a pale tabby shape sped past and leaped skidding over the shale, sending pebbles cracking across the slope. Crookedpaw darted out from behind the heather and stared round-eyed as Willowpaw turned and lifted her head. A dead rabbit hung from her jaws. She carried it back to her Clanmates.

  Crookedpaw stiffened. What would Owlfur say? RiverClan cats didn’t catch rabbits! He followed Willowpaw and climbed up onto the rock where his Clanmates had settled. They sat staring at the dead rabbit, their fur twitching.

  Willowpaw shrugged. “It’s fresh-kill.”

  Graypaw’s nostrils flared as she breathed in its warm scent.

  Brightsky mewed, “I guess.”

  Owlfur wrapped his tail tighter around his paws. “If we’re going to eat it, we should do it now.” He looked up at the moon rising, fat and white, in the sky. “It’s nearly time.”

  They shared the rabbit between them, though no one commented on the taste. Crookedpaw secretly enjoyed the rich meaty flavor but he wasn’t going to admit it. Graypaw finished eating first.

  “You must have been hungry.” Brightsky pushed her share toward her apprentice. “You might as well have mine.”

  As Graypaw gulped it down, Cedarpelt stood and stretched. “Let’s go.” He began to pad up the slope toward Mothermouth. Owlfur fell in behind.

  Brightsky got to her paws. “Come on.” She nudged Graypaw, who followed her, noisily chewing her last mouthful. “Doesn’t anything ruin your appetite?” Brightsky purred, shaking her head. “You do realize you’re about to meet StarClan, don’t you?”

  Willowpaw’s eyes sparkled with starlight. Crookedpaw flicked his tail down her spine. “Excited?”

  Willowpaw nodded and bounded u
p the steep, stony slope. Crookedpaw’s heart quickened as he trotted after her. As he neared the shadowy entrance, he shivered. Cold air iced with the tang of stone rolled from the mouth of the tunnel.

  Cedarpelt had paused and the others clustered around him. “Ready?” He gazed at his Clanmates. They nodded but no one spoke. “Stay close.” He slid into the night-black shadow.

  Crookedpaw trotted after him. The tunnel sloped down into the darkness and the cold reached through his thick fur and into his bones. This air had never felt the sun. Crookedpaw gave up straining to see anything. He could hear Brightsky’s paw steps behind him and feel her breath on his tail. His whiskers brushed stone and he veered away, careful not to crash into the wall. The tunnel bent and the slope under his paws steepened.

  Suddenly the dank air freshened. Crookedpaw sniffed, relieved to smell the familiar world above. He could scent earth and grass and heather. There must be a hole in the roof of the tunnel. He looked up, searching for a patch of starlight in the blackness. “Where are we?”

  “We’re in the Moonstone cave.” Cedarpelt halted ahead of him and guided Crookedpaw forward with a flick of his tail. A distant drip echoed against the rock and he could hear his Clanmates breathing. Willowpaw’s pelt brushed his and Graypaw’s pads grazed the stone as they stood, waiting.

  “Where is the Moonstone?” Willowpaw whispered.

  Suddenly, in a flash more blinding than the setting sun, the cave lit up. Crookedpaw closed his eyes in surprise. Willowpaw recoiled against him.

  “Wow!” Graypaw breathed.

  Crookedpaw slowly opened his eyes. A huge rock loomed over him, glittering as though it were made of countless dewdrops.

  The Moonstone!

  In the cold light reflecting from the stone, he could make out the shadowy edges of a high-roofed cavern. The Moonstone rose up from the middle of the floor, three tail-lengths high. Far above it, an opening in the roof revealed a small triangle of night sky. The moon was casting a beam of light through the hole, down onto the Moonstone, making it sparkle like a star.

  Cedarpelt padded forward, his pelt bleached by the Moonstone’s glow. He crouched down beside the rock and touched it with his nose. Brightsky did the same.

  “Come on.” Owlfur beckoned the three apprentices forward.

  Crookedpaw went first. Willowpaw’s breath trembled behind him. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered to her. He lay down beside Cedarpelt and touched his nose to the stone.

  The world shifted underneath his paws. Crookedpaw let out a cry as he found himself standing in the dark forest where he trained with Mapleshade. It wasn’t the usual place they met; the muddy ground here was more sloping, and the trees were more tightly packed, but it was lit by the same eerie light that came from neither stars nor moon. Crookedpaw strained to see through the shadows.

  “Welcome.” Mapleshade stepped out of the trees.

  “Where are the other StarClan cats?” Hope fluttered in Crookedpaw’s chest. He turned his head, scanning the forest.

  “Why don’t you look for them?” Mapleshade invited smoothly.

  Crookedpaw snapped his gaze back. “Do you mean I can explore now?”

  Mapleshade nodded. “But stay close to me.”

  Crookedpaw followed the orange-and-white warrior, his eyes wide. “Is this really StarClan’s hunting grounds?” He frowned. What did they hunt? There was no scent of prey, only the smell of decay.

  “This is where the greatest cats come after they die.” Mapleshade padded up the slope. “And if you keep your promise, this is where you’ll come one day.”

  Crookedpaw blinked. “Once I’m RiverClan’s leader?”

  “Not just RiverClan’s leader.” Mapleshade turned to face him. “The greatest leader the Clans have ever known. But only if you keep your promise.”

  A shadow moved between the trees at the corner of Crookedpaw’s vision. He whipped his head around and saw a pelt moving through the half-light. Then he saw another, and another. Slowly he realized the forest was filled with cats padding silently through the gloom. Crookedpaw narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined StarClan. Then he recognized a shaggy gray pelt shambling toward Mapleshade.

  “Leave us alone.” Mapleshade padded in front of the tom, brushing him away with her tail.

  It’s Goosefeather! Crookedpaw blinked in surprise as he recognized the chewed whiskers and ragged ears of the ThunderClan medicine cat. What’s he doing here? He’s still alive.

  Goosefeather stood his ground. “Is this the newcomer?” His growl was rasping and deep.

  Crookedpaw stared at Mapleshade. “Is Goosefeather dead?”

  “Are you?” Mapleshade replied.

  “I—I guess not.” Crookedpaw peered past her but the old medicine cat had disappeared.

  “You must go back to your Clanmates now,” Mapleshade told him. “They’ll be waking from their dreams.”

  “Is that it?” Wasn’t he supposed to share tongues with his ancestors? Learn all kinds of wise stuff about being a warrior, and how to achieve his destiny? “I’m not ready!” He fought to stay, digging his claws into the slimy earth as the forest began to fade around him. “No!” He woke, bristling with frustration. The cave was black. The moon had passed and the Moonstone had faded to dull stone.

  Crookedpaw stood up, surprised to find that his muscles felt stiff. Had he been lying here all night? Was that dawn light seeping through the hole in the roof? Graypaw and Brightsky were getting to their paws beside him. Cedarpelt was stretching while Owlfur paced back and forth as if he couldn’t wait to leave.

  “Willowpaw?” Crookedpaw mewed.

  The young apprentice was snoring, her head resting against the Moonstone. Crookedpaw nudged her gently. The long journey must have worn her out. As Willowpaw opened her eyes, Crookedpaw wondered what vision she’d had. Had she met her WindClan ancestors? He shrugged. Even if Willowpaw had met every warrior in StarClan, he guessed none of them had told her she’d be the greatest leader RiverClan had ever known.

  Chapter 17

  “How was your trip to the Moonstone?”

  Crookedpaw looked up from his meal as Hailstar stopped beside him. He scrambled to his paws. He felt rested after a good night’s sleep though his pads were still sore. “It was great.” If only he knew! I’m going to be—

  Hailstar cut into his thoughts. “Walk with me.” He led Crookedpaw out of camp and into the willow grove.

  “What is it?” Did Hailstar want to know about his vision?

  “I just thought we should talk.” Hailstar stopped beside a mossy log. Soft evening light filtered through the rustling leaves. Bees hummed sleepily among the wildflowers and a blackbird was calling from the branches above their heads. “Are you enjoying your apprenticeship?” he asked.

  Crookedpaw nodded. “It’s great!” He guessed the RiverClan leader must have asked Oakheart, Beetlenose, Voleclaw, and Petaldust the same question when they were still ’paws.

  “Your journey to becoming a warrior has taken longer than most.”

  “Four seasons,” Crookedpaw reminded him.

  “Yes.” The RiverClan leader padded on, nodding. “That must seem a long time to a young cat.”

  “Yeah,” Crookedpaw sighed.

  “Are you jealous that your brother’s already a warrior?”

  “Jealous?” Crookedpaw blinked. “No. Oakheart’s a great warrior. And I’ll be a great warrior, too.” He fluffed out his fur. “One day.”

  “Is that all you want?” Hailstar asked softly. “To become a great warrior?”

  “What else is there?” Crookedpaw wondered where these questions were leading. Was Hailstar about to make him a warrior? Excitement pricked beneath his pelt. “I want to look after my Clan. That’s the most important thing in the world.”

  “Really?” Hailstar halted and stared hard at Crookedpaw.

  Crookedpaw shifted his paws. “Of course!” Did Hailstar doubt him? He’d trained harder than any apprentice!

&n
bsp; Hailstar looked away. “Brambleberry’s worried.”

  “What’s she worried about?” What did she have to do with his apprenticeship? She mixed herbs. She didn’t train warriors! Crookedpaw swallowed back his anger. “I’ll do any task you want, any assessment, fight any battle to show you I can be a great warrior!”

  “I’m sure you would.” Hailstar narrowed his eyes. “Without doubt. But being a warrior isn’t just about courage and skill and being ready to fight battles. . . .” His mew trailed away.

  What is it about then? Crookedpaw stared at his leader, but the old gray cat was padding away. “What can I do to prove myself?” Crookedpaw called after him.

  Hailstar didn’t answer. He was slowly shaking his head, lost in his own thoughts.

  What did Brambleberry tell him? Crookedpaw raced back to camp.

  “Whoa!” Shellheart ducked out of his way as he charged through the sedge tunnel. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” Crookedpaw stormed into the medicine den.

  Brambleberry looked up from the herbs she was mixing. “Crookedpaw? Is something wrong?”

  “Hailstar doubts I can be a warrior!” Crookedpaw snapped. “You told him there’s something wrong with me! Is it because of my jaw?”

  Brambleberry dusted the herbs from her paws. “It has nothing to do with your jaw.”

  “Then why did you tell Hailstar you were worried about me?”

  The medicine cat glanced at her paws. “I worry about all the apprentices,” she mumbled.

  “Really?” Crookedpaw’s tail lashed. “Is Hailstar going to ask Willowpaw if she’s jealous of Graypaw or if she thinks there’s more to being a warrior than fighting?”

  Brambleberry didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so,” Crookedpaw growled. “So what is it? What’s different about me? I always trusted you! I thought we were friends!” His belly tightened. “What am I doing wrong? You tried to stop me from fighting in the battle and you told me to listen to StarClan when I went to the Moonstone. You think there’s something wrong with me, don’t you?” He sat down, baffled. “Have you had an omen about me?”

  He was half joking but the flash of fear in Brambleberry’s eyes made him stiffen. “What was it?” he demanded. “What have you seen?”