Crookedstar’s Promise

Chapter 14

“Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words!”

Crookedpaw straightened at Hailstar’s call. He dragged his numb paw from the water, hooking out the minnow he’d been groping for and dropping it beside two others that he’d caught. He’d been fishing through a narrow ice hole among the reeds. With the river frozen, prey was growing scarce, and he’d promised Cedarpelt he’d find some minnows before he settled down to share tongues with his Clanmates. Leaving his catch, he scrambled, skidding, for the shore. Snow flumped down from the bulrushes as he pushed among the thawing stems.

What did Hailstar want? The sun was sinking, turning the pale sky pink. Crookedpaw ached all over, sore from a night’s training with Mapleshade and stiff from spending the day hunting birds in the willow copse with Cedarpelt. At least it looked as though the cold weather was loosening its grip. In the two nights since the Gathering, the air had lost its aching chill. The river would be flowing again soon. He slithered from the reeds and hurried over the softening snow to the edge of the clearing.

Oakheart trotted to meet him. “There you are!”

“What’s up?” Crookedpaw glanced at Hailstar. The RiverClan leader paced the head of the clearing, hackles high. His eyes glittered. Shellheart stood behind him, tail flicking stiffly.

Oakheart ducked close to Crookedpaw. “I don’t know. Hailstar’s been meeting with Shellheart, Rippleclaw, and Timberfur all afternoon.”

Rippleclaw and Timberfur sat like rocks at the side of the clearing. Timberfur blinked, his gaze unreadable. Rippleclaw was coolly watching a blackbird flitting from bush to bush on the far bank.

“They even called for Brambleberry,” Oakheart whispered.

“Is someone sick?”

Oakheart shrugged. “Birdsong’s got a cough and Brightsky’s been sneezing since the Gathering, but that’s all.”

Beetlenose padded lazily from the fallen tree. Petaldust raced past him and stopped beside Crookedpaw. “What’s happening?”

Beetlenose caught up. “Maybe he’s going to change Crookedpaw’s name again,” he suggested. “To Scarpaw.” He stared at Crookedpaw’s muzzle. “You seem to have a fresh scratch every day.”

Crookedpaw shrugged. “I train hard.”

Voleclaw darted from the dirtplace tunnel. “What did I miss?” he panted.

“Nothing yet,” Petaldust reassured him. “The Clan’s still gathering.”

Troutclaw and Tanglewhisker had reached the clearing. Birdsong peered from the elders’ den, her eyes bright with fever. Dens rattled around the fallen tree as Rainflower, Echomist, and Mudfur slid out. Lakeshine, Softwing, and Shimmerpelt clustered together at the edge of the clearing, ears pricked. Piketooth, Owlfur, and Ottersplash paced beside them. Cedarpelt slid from the sedges, his fur ruffled, padded across the clearing, and sat beside Whitefang.

Brambleberry crouched outside Fallowtail’s den. “Come on,” she coaxed. “RiverClan needs all its warriors.”

Fallowtail poked her head out. “What’s going on?”

“Come and hear.” Brambleberry guided her to the edge of the clearing and nodded to Hailstar.

“We saw ThunderClan at the Gathering,” the RiverClan leader began. “Leaf-bare has left them hungry, as usual.” Murmurs of satisfaction rumbled around the clearing. “They look weak,” Hailstar continued, “while we are strong. At sunset, we take back Sunningrocks!”

Owlfur twitched his ears. “How? Are we just going to move the markers again?”

Hailstar lashed his tail. “We’ll do more than that! The only markers we’ll leave will be ThunderClan’s blood!”

“About time!” Ottersplash called.

Whitefang, hardly visible against the snow, showed his teeth. “I’ll shred any ThunderClan cat I get my claws on!”

Hailstar nodded to the white warrior. “ThunderClan won’t forget this day.”

“What’s the plan?” Lakeshine asked.

“A battle patrol will occupy Sunningrocks and wait for ThunderClan.”

“What if they don’t come?” Shimmerpelt meowed.

“They’ll come.” Rippleclaw stepped forward. “ThunderClan always acts strong when they’re too weak to fight.”

Timberfur plucked at the ground. “It’ll be an easy victory.”

“One we deserve!” Hailstar’s eyes blazed. “We’ve put up with ThunderClan’s arrogance for long enough. Sunningrocks is ours.”

The Clan’s cheer sent Rippleclaw’s blackbird panicking into the sky.

Beetlenose reared and swiped at the air. “I’m going to bring home some ThunderClan fur.”

Petaldust bristled. “We’ve never fought before,” she mewed.

Crookedpaw nudged her. “But we’ve trained,” he reminded her. “We know what to do.”

Petaldust lifted her chin. “I’ll fight to the death if I have to.”

Cedarpelt turned his head. “Don’t be silly,” he meowed sharply. “We’re fighting to defend territory, not our Clan.”

Whitefang purred. “I remember my first battle,” he sighed. “I was ready to take on every cat in WindClan.”

“Were you scared?” Petaldust’s eyes widened.

“Of course!” Whitefang wrapped his tail over his paws. “I’m not stupid. Battles are dangerous.”

Cedarpelt nodded. “Just remember the warrior code and you’ll be fine.”

Beetlenose sniffed. “Let’s hope ThunderClan remembers the warrior code,” he meowed. “They didn’t let it stop them from attacking WindClan in their nests.”

“Shellheart.” Hailstar nodded to his deputy. “Call the names of the cats who will join the battle patrol.”

Shellheart lift his chin. “Timberfur, Rippleclaw, Owlfur, Ottersplash.” The warriors padded to the head of the clearing. Crookedpaw leaned forward as his father went on.

“Oakheart, Beetlenose, Petaldust, Whitefang, Shimmerpelt, Softwing.”

Crookedpaw watched his brother pad away.

“Piketooth, Rainflower, Voleclaw, Cedarpelt, and Crookedpaw.”

Crookedpaw lashed his tail excitedly and darted after Cedarpelt.

“Wait!” Brambleberry blocked his path. “Please stay here!” The medicine cat’s eyes were dark with worry.

“Why?” Crookedpaw stared at her, bewildered. “I’m strong now! You said it yourself. Bigger than Beetlenose! And my jaw is as strong as a pike’s!”

She shook her head. “Please stay in camp.”

“And miss my first battle?” Beetlenose and Oakheart were already heading out of camp. He had to catch up!

Brambleberry looked away, her fur spiking. Crookedpaw narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m ready for this. I’m not staying behind,” he growled. He had to go. He’d promised Mapleshade he’d fight for his Clan above everything. This was his first chance to prove he had the makings of a great leader. He marched past Brambleberry and ducked through the sedge tunnel.

Outside camp, the patrol was pounding along the shore. As Crookedpaw jumped down the bank he saw them head out on to the ice. He caught up with them as they crossed the frozen river, his claws throwing up a shower of sparkling crystals, and stopped beside them at the foot of Sunningrocks, where snow drifted against the stone.

“Ready?” Hailstar surveyed the patrol, eyes dark.

“Ready,” Shellheart answered for them.

Crookedpaw’s belly tightened. He flexed his claws as his Clanmates started to climb the rock face.

Cedarpelt ran his tail along Crookedpaw’s spine. “Be careful and remember what I taught you.”

And everything Mapleshade taught me! He hoped she was watching. He’d show her what a great leader he was going to be.

“Good luck.” Cedarpelt swarmed up the rock.

Crookedpaw reached up and hooked his claws into a crack. Pushing off with his hind legs, he swung himself up, catching the next clawhold and the next until he’d reached the top of the rock. The fiery glare of the setting sun lit the stone. Beyond Sunningrocks stood the forest, dark and silent. Crookedpaw hauled himself over the edge and joined his Clanmates. They wove restlessly around one another, their growls echoing on the rock.

Rainflower caught his eye. “I’ve asked Oakheart to keep an eye on you.”

“No need.” Crookedpaw turned away, avoiding her gaze, frightened at the coldness he might find there. Then he stiffened. A bush trembled between the trees below the rocks. Had they been spotted?

Hailstar nodded to Shellheart. “Prepare the battle line.” His gaze swept over Beetlenose, Petaldust, and Voleclaw. “This is your first battle.” He glanced at Oakheart and Crookedpaw. “This won’t be the only opportunity you get to prove you are great warriors. Don’t take any chances and good luck.”

Shellheart flicked his tail and RiverClan spread out along the rock. Crookedpaw backed into place between Oakheart and Shimmerpelt. He glanced down the line, pride rising in his chest. The RiverClan warriors stood, pelts bushed, the setting sun firing their fur till they shone like StarClan warriors. Hailstar walked along the line, which straightened as he passed. Then he took his place in the middle and glared into the shadowy trees. Crookedpaw pricked his ears. Paws were thrumming the forest floor.

Oakheart’s claws scratched the stone. “Good luck, Crookedpaw,” he breathed.

Shimmerpelt’s pelt spiked. “They’re coming.”

The thrumming grew louder, like wind roaring through branches. Crookedpaw swallowed as the ThunderClan patrol broke from the trees. Eyes blazing, fur spiked, they pulsed rage.

In the middle of battle, there’s no time to think. Cedarpelt’s words rang in his mind. You just react. Now he understood. His fur bushed and a hiss rose in his throat as the ThunderClan patrol faced RiverClan.

Hailstar stepped forward. “An ancient wrong has been put right!” he yowled. “These rocks are ours again.”

Pinestar padded up the sloping rock, his eyes no more than slits. “Never.” He drew back his lips. “ThunderClan, attack!”

As ThunderClan surged forward, Pinestar lunged for Hailstar and the two leaders fell, rolling, across the stone. Oakheart plunged into the snarling, spitting mass of warriors, breaking through and turning on a black-and-white tom, a yowl of fury piercing the battle cries. Crookedpaw pressed his ears flat, shocked by the shrieks as fear and rage merged. He spun around as his Clanmates fell tumbling into combat. Confused and scared, he had no idea where to start.

Then paws slammed into him, sending him rolling. Twisting, his claws scraped the rock. He found his paws, but only for a moment. A vicious blow to the cheek sent him spinning. Rage flared in his belly. Mapleshade’s mew sounded in his ear.

Fight!

He turned and reared up. A ginger tom spat at him, back arched, paw raised, ready to deal another mighty blow. Crookedpaw knocked his paw aside and swiped the tom’s muzzle with such force it sent them both reeling backward. Staggering on his hind paws, Crookedpaw felt the rock disappear from underneath him. With a yelp, he fell, stone scraping his pelt as he tumbled down the side of Sunningrocks and landed in the snow beneath. Stiff with shock, he fought for breath.

Frog dung!

Anger pulsed in his paws. He looked up the sheer rock face. The pink sky arced above, strangely calm above the shriek of battle. He had to help his Clanmates! He darted along the foot of the rock, skidding around the corner to where he knew he’d find enough paw holds to haul himself up. A blue-gray pelt blocked his way. ThunderClan stench bathed his tongue.

An enemy warrior! He stumbled to a halt as the ThunderClan cat whirled to face him. Bluepaw! Was that relief in her eyes?

“Thank StarClan,” she sighed.

What would Mapleshade say? The other Clans are no more than dust and beetles! This was his chance to prove he was loyal to RiverClan above everything. So what if he’d spoken to this cat at a Gathering? There was no truce now. “You’re on our territory!” Crookedpaw dropped into a crouch, eyes narrowed to slits. “We’re enemies now,” he hissed.

Bluepaw blinked. She was surprised! Dumb cat!

Crookedpaw sprang forward and knocked her into the snow. Before she could move, he grabbed her shoulders and churned his hind paws against her spine. Yowling, she twisted her head back, clamping her jaws around his forepaw. She bit down hard. Crookedpaw yelped. He kicked her away, pain searing his paw. Bluepaw tumbled screeching down the shore toward the icy river. Crookedpaw licked at his wound, the fierce sting of it making him feel sick. Then he heard snow swish and saw a flash of blue fur.

Bluepaw crashed into him with a howl of rage. Shocked, he staggered, and Bluepaw spun around and nipped his hind leg. She turned again and nipped his forepaw, then reared up and lunged at him, sinking her teeth deep into his scruff.

You snake-heart! Energy shot like lightning through Crookedpaw. She was trying to drag him backward. Stupid furball! He dug in his claws and thrashed his head from side to side. Flinging her off, he turned and spat. “Don’t expect mercy from me!”

Panic lit her eyes and she reared up again, swiping blindly. He had her! Lifting his forepaws, he met her blow for blow. She staggered, trying to balance, while he kept swiping steadily, using the move he’d practiced over and over until it seemed as easy as fishing. She caught his muzzle with a claw but he hit back, slicing her ear, feeling it tear beneath his claws.

Run away!

He knew he could beat her back to ThunderClan land if he wanted. A yowl sounded behind them.

“Snowpaw!” Bluepaw’s eyes sparked as her sister darted beside her.

Crookedpaw growled as Snowpaw plunged forward and began swiping alongside her Clanmate. Fielding blows from two pairs of paws, Crookedpaw fought harder. But the blows kept coming, relentless and fast. His hind legs began to weaken. His muscles screamed to stop. Claws raked his muzzle, then his ears, then his cheek. The flurry of paws was too fast to match. He started to back away, his hind paws slipping on the snow. Then Snowpaw ducked and bit his hind leg. It collapsed beneath him.

“Frog-dung!” Crookedpaw dropped on to all fours, growling, and lunged for the two cats, trying to get between them and split their attack. But Snowpaw darted underneath him. Pain ripped his belly as she raked him with thorn-sharp claws. More claws sank into his shoulders. Bluepaw was on his back. Panic rising, he tried to shake her off while scrambling away from Snowpaw. But Snowpaw rolled and knocked out his hind legs. Tumbling, Crookedpaw yowled with rage. Bluepaw was clinging on like a burr. He felt his pelt shredding beneath her churning paws as he rolled down the bank. Agony gripped him, blood roaring in his ears. Flinging Bluepaw off, he dived for the frozen river and hurtled across the ice. Racing for the bank he exploded through the bushes, relieved to smell RiverClan scent bathe his tongue.

A yowl split the air. “Forward, ThunderClan!”

Bluepaw and Snowpaw were staring up at Sunningrocks, ears pricked with excitement. They ducked against the rock as RiverClan warriors began to plunge down the cliff and charge across the river. Crookedpaw watched in shock as Hailstar hurtled past him, leaving blood in his trail. Ottersplash and Shimmerpelt thundered after him, the rest of the patrol at their heels.

RiverClan is retreating?

Shellheart, Rippleclaw, and Timberfur were pounding the ice on the far side of the river, smashing it with their hind paws. As Crookedpaw stared, they broke open a channel of icy water and swam hard for the far shore. ThunderClan streamed down the rocks in pursuit, slithering to a clumsy halt at the edge of the racing water. The broken ice meant there was no way for them to follow.

“Mouse-hearts!” a mottled warrior growled as Shellheart dived through the bushes on RiverClan’s side of the river.

“Crookedpaw?” Shellheart pulled up sharply. “Are you okay?”

Crookedpaw straightened and lifted his chin. “I’m fine.”

Shellheart frowned. “You must have fought like a warrior.” He leaned forward and licked Crookedpaw’s blood-soaked cheek. Crookedpaw ducked away, wincing.

“Come on.” Shellheart nudged him toward camp. “You’re going to need some herbs on those scratches.”

“You ordered us to retreat!” Rippleclaw stared, dumbfounded, at Shellheart. “How could you do that?”

Shellheart was padding among his Clanmates, checking injuries, doling out praise and encouragement to the battered warriors. Dawn colored the sky and birds were beginning to sing in the bushes outside camp. Crookedpaw crouched beside Oakheart, his pain easing as Brambleberry’s herbs soaked into his wounds.

“We had no choice,” Shellheart meowed.

Timberfur shifted, wincing, on to his other side. “But Hailstar told us ThunderClan was weak.”

“We were winning!” Lakeshine paused from smoothing her long gray-and-white fur. It was smeared with blood and fragments of herb.

Whitefang sighed. “If only Stormtail hadn’t turned up with a second patrol—”

Rippleclaw cut him off. “Why didn’t Hailstar think of that?”

“He’s not a mind reader,” Shellheart snapped.

Timberfur growled. “But he’s a leader. Leaders should know how to win battles.” He glared toward the medicine den.

Hailstar’s wounds had been deep. When Brambleberry couldn’t stop the bleeding in the clearing, Shellheart and Owlfur had carried the half-conscious leader to her den.

“Shut up!” Petaldust’s eyes flared. A long scratch traced from her forehead to her muzzle, and her tortoiseshell pelt was clumped with blood. “Hailstar could be losing a life!”

Crookedpaw got to his paws. His wounds burned like fire.

Oakheart looked up. “Where are you going?”

“I want to take fresh-kill to Brambleberry.” He glanced at his paws. Truthfully, he was more interested in finding out how Hailstar was so he could reassure Petaldust and Voleclaw. They were clearly worried about their father. Even Beetlenose wasn’t boasting for a change. “She’s been busy all night. She must be hungry.”

“But the fresh-kill pile’s empty,” Oakheart pointed out.

“I know where there are some minnows.” He padded carefully through the reed bed. The ice creaked beneath his paws. It would be gone in a day or so. He quickly caught a few minnows in his jaws. Back on shore, he crossed the clearing.

Rainflower was licking her wounds. She looked up as he passed. “Well done, Crookedpaw,” she meowed, and returned to her washing.

Crookedpaw’s fur prickled with surprise. Rainflower had praised him! His heart lifted. Ducking through the sedge tunnel into Brambleberry’s den, he dropped the fish at the medicine cat’s paws. “How is he?”

Hailstar lay curled in a nest beside the wall of the den. Echomist sat beside him, lapping his pelt. The RiverClan leader’s fur was dull and matted, his flanks hardly moving.

“He’s stopped bleeding,” Brambleberry murmured. “But he lost a lot of blood.”

Echomist stiffened. “He’s not breathing!”

Brambleberry darted to the nest and pressed her ear to Hailstar’s flank. She sat up slowly. Crookedpaw shivered as silence gripped the den. Brambleberry broke it with a sigh as Hailstar took a sudden shuddering gasp. “He lost a life,” she mewed softly.

Echomist’s eyes glistened. “Then he’s on his ninth,” she breathed.

Brambleberry touched the she-cat’s cheek with her muzzle. “I’m afraid so.” She glanced at Crookedpaw. “You’d better go.”

Crookedpaw nodded and headed for the entrance.

“Thanks for the fish,” Brambleberry called after him.

Crookedpaw squeezed into the clearing. Rainflower was padding stiffly to her den. Oakheart rested his nose on his paws, his eyes closed. Tanglewhisker was carrying a lump of snow in his jaws. He dropped it beside Shimmerpelt, who began lapping at it thirstily. None of them knew that their leader had lost a life in the failed battle for Sunningrocks, just as Petaldust feared. It wasn’t Crookedpaw’s place to tell them; Brambleberry would do that, or Hailstar himself, once he had recovered.

If only I’d fought better! Mapleshade will never believe I’m worthy of being Clan leader now. Crookedpaw felt a rush of frustration. Next time I’ll fight like a StarClan warrior. Next time, I won’t let my Clan down!