Crookedstar’s Promise

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!

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?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she answered quickly. “Y-you have the chance to be a great warrior…” She was searching for words. “Like all RiverClan cats. You just have to follow the right path.”

“And I’m not following it now?” He stared at her. But I’m training every day! And every night! I’m being taught by StarClan! “You don’t know anything!” he snapped. “If you did see an omen, you must have misread it! I am going to be a great warrior!”

He turned and stalked out of the den. He barged past Graypool, who was dragging a fish across the clearing, and raced away from the camp, hurtling blindly along the shore. Why did he bother training so hard for his Clan when they doubted him? He’d prove them wrong.

A moon passed and the days grew longer and warmer. The river had begun to teem with fresh prey and the Clan feasted in the rosy glow of the setting sun. Shimmerpelt and Piketooth were sharing tongues beside the reed bed, grooming each other’s fur on the back of their necks. Whitefang was tucking into a fat carp beside them while Cedarpelt lay beside Lakeshine, his tail wrapped protectively across her swollen belly. She was expecting his kits and had given up warrior duties and moved to the nursery.

Birdsong stretched. “This would be a perfect evening for warming my bones on Sunningrocks.” The old she-cat looked wistfully out over the reed bed.

Oakheart rolled on to his back. “You can have what’s left if you like.” He pushed the remains of his fish toward Crookedpaw.

“I’m not hungry.” Crookedpaw sat hunched, watching his Clanmates share tongues in the late-afternoon light.

Softwing was stripping flesh from a bony trout. She called to Brambleberry, who was padding from her den. “Do you want some?”

Fresh herb scent wafted around the medicine cat as she crossed the clearing. “Thanks.” She settled beside Softwing. “Let me wash this water-mint off my paws first.” She began nibbling at the green-tinged fur between her claws.

Crookedpaw scowled. Hailstar was lying beside Echomist, eyes half closed. Neither he nor Brambleberry had mentioned the omen again, but Crookedpaw guessed they were keeping an eye on him. He had to make them trust him. He had to prove he was loyal to RiverClan.

A dog barked in the distance. It was getting to be a familiar sound in the RiverClan camp. The dog lived on the farm beside the meadow where Twolegs came in greenleaf to live in little pelt dens, and it seemed to know that the cats were close by, almost within reach of its snapping jaws.

Crookedpaw’s whiskers twitched. “Are Willowpaw and Graypaw back from training?”

“Not yet.” Fallowtail padded to the entrance and peered through. “Do you think they’re okay?”

Shellheart, sitting beside his den, flipped over his carp. “They’re training by the beech copse.”

Oakheart sat up. “The dog won’t stray that far from its Twoleg nest.”

“Brightsky and Owlfur are with them.” Timberfur was sharing fresh-kill with Rippleclaw beneath the willow. “They’ll be fine.”

Crookedpaw scrambled to his paws. “Why don’t we chase the dog away?”

Hailstar sat up.

Crookedpaw padded across the clearing. “We could scare it.” He lashed his tail. “Shimmerpelt’s fast!” His mind was whirling. “So’s Softwing. They could lure it from Twolegplace into the marsh meadow. We’d be waiting for it. We’d give it a shock that it won’t forget in a hurry.”

The dirtplace tunnel rustled and Beetlenose padded out.

“Saving the whole Clan on your own?” he muttered as he passed Crookedpaw.

“Yeah,” Crookedpaw shot back. “What’ve you been doing?” He ignored Beetlenose’s growl. “I think it could work.”

“So do I.” Whitefang jumped to his paws.

Hailstar pushed away his fish and sat up. “Let’s do it now.”

“Now?” Cedarpelt’s pelt fluffed up.

“Now.” The RiverClan leader tasted the air. “Before dark.” He turned to Shimmerpelt. “Are you quick enough to lure the dog toward the attack line without being caught?”

Shimmerpelt nodded. Softwing sprang to her paws. “I am, too.”

“Good.” Hailstar glanced around his Clan. “I’ll head the attack patrol. Shellheart, you shadow Shimmerpelt and Softwing.”

Shellheart showed his teeth. “If the dog gets within a whisker of them, I’ll claw its eyes out.”

Hailstar nodded. “Cedarpelt, Whitefang, Rippleclaw, Beetlenose, Oakheart, Ottersplash, Rainflower, and Piketooth, you’ll join Crookedpaw in my patrol.”

Fallowtail stood up. “I want to come, too.”

“Fine.” Hailstar swished his tail as his Clanmates gathered by the entrance; then, with a nod, he pelted out of camp.

Crookedpaw’s heart was racing as they pounded along the track through the reeds. Hailstar led them up the slope and around the camp, doubling back toward the marsh meadow. They skirted the beech copse, which topped a hillock arching from the meadow like a pike’s spine. Brightsky was calling instructions to Graypaw, and Crookedpaw could just see Willowpaw’s ears as she peered over the top of the slope.

“Where are you going?” Her call faded behind them as they crossed the meadow, weaving between the clumps of marsh grass and sedge, their paws splashing over the boggy ground.

Crookedpaw felt Oakheart’s pelt brush his. “Nice plan, Crookedpaw,” he puffed, matching Crookedpaw paw step for paw step as they raced after Hailstar.

“I just hope it works.” Crookedpaw saw Hailstar pull up and swerved to a halt behind him. A Twoleg fence, separating two meadows, was a few tail-lengths away. Beyond it the dog’s fur flashed against the bright green grass as it darted from side to side, barking excitedly.

Hailstar weaved between Shimmerpelt and Softwing. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Softwing flicked her tail. “Of course!”

Shimmerpelt nodded.

Shellheart padded around them. “I’ll run alongside, keeping up as much I can,” he promised.

Hailstar turned to Crookedpaw. “Have you thought about where the attack party should be?”

Beetlenose flexed his claws. “Why are you letting an apprentice tell warriors what to do?”

“It was his plan.” Hailstar silenced the young tom with a growl.

And if it works, I won’t be an apprentice for long. Crookedpaw pointed to a thicket of young willow trees behind them. “We could climb those. The leaves will hide us.”

“Hide in trees?” Beetlenose narrowed his eyes. “Do you think we’re squirrels?”

“It won’t be for long,” Crookedpaw urged. “And willow’s soft enough to sink your claws in.”

Piketooth was already heading toward the thicket. He leaped smoothly up a slim trunk and clung to one of the branches. It swayed beneath his weight, but he managed to hang on and the lush leaves hid his dark tabby pelt. “It’ll work!” he called.

Fallowtail and Cedarpelt bounded after him.

“Give us time to get ready,” Hailstar told Shimmerpelt and Softwing. “Then lure the dog toward us.”

Crookedpaw raced to the thicket and scrambled up a willow. He sank his claws into the trembling branch. Through the leaves, he could just see the Twoleg fence. As Hailstar scrambled into place, Oakheart teetered along a wobbly branch and leaped across the small gap into Crookedpaw’s tree.

“I hope this works,” he muttered, swaying to keep his balance.

Crookedpaw dug his claws in harder. “It’ll work.” Heart in his throat, he stared at the Twoleg fence and waited for Shimmerpelt and Softwing to begin.

Shimmerpelt slunk forward and slid under the lowest bar of the fence. Softwing’s white fur flashed beside her. Keeping low, the two warriors crept up the field. Beyond them, the dog charged back and forth. Slowing to a halt, Shimmerpelt rested her tail on Softwing’s spine and gave an earsplitting yowl.

Crookedpaw leaned forward, energy bursting beneath his pelt, as the dog skidded to a halt and stared down the field. Its bark faltered, then turned to a menacing growl.

Run!

The dog hurtled down the field. Shimmerpelt spun on her haunches and raced away, Softwing at her side, flying over the grass, their paws hardly touching the ground. Ducking, they shot under the fence and pelted for the willow thicket.

Come on!

The willows shivered as the attack patrol tensed. The dog squeezed under the fence and exploded into the meadow. Shimmerpelt and Softwing ran like rabbits ahead of it. Crookedpaw glimpsed his father’s gray pelt slipping like a shadow through the long grass, keeping pace alongside. A growl rumbled in Rippleclaw’s throat.

“Hush!” Hailstar ordered.

Shimmerpelt and Softwing closed on the thicket, their paws thrumming the ground.

“Take him!” Softwing yowled as they shot beneath the waiting patrol.

“Ready!” Hailstar hissed as the dog neared. “Attack!”

Crookedpaw dropped and landed on his toes, back arched, pelt bushed, lips drawn back as he hissed at the dog. His Clanmates lined up beside him, a wall of spitting rage. The dog yelped and stumbled to a halt. It stared at the cats for a moment. Then, with a yelp of terror, it hurtled away, streaking across the meadow.

Fallowtail shrieked, “It’s heading for the beech copse!”

Willowpaw!

Crookedpaw broke away from the warriors and pelted after the dog. It was taking a line straight for the beeches. Why wasn’t it barking? Crookedpaw willed it to give some warning to Willowpaw and the others. What if they didn’t hear its paw steps? He pelted after it, gaining ground as it jumped over a patch of marshy grass and bolted for the trees.

Crookedpaw’s pads hit the slope. “Willowpaw!”

“Dog!” Owlfur’s panicked yowl sounded from the top. Paws scrabbled on leaves and the copse exploded with shrieks and hisses.

Crookedpaw crested the slope. Graypaw, Owlfur, and Brightsky clung halfway up the beech trunks, staring helplessly down. With a jolt of horror, Crookedpaw spotted Willowpaw. The dog had her cornered, backed up against the roots of a tree. Her eyes were wild as she flailed with her forepaws, hissing in panic.

Crookedpaw dived at the dog. He landed square on its back and sank his teeth deep into its fur. As the dog bucked, howling, beneath him, he leaped off and growled. The dog turned on him, its eyes blazing with fury. Crookedpaw backed away, pelt bushed up. Come on, you fish-brain. Follow me! He swiped at its muzzle, then turned and ran.

The dog pelted after him, barking with rage. Crookedpaw sped down the slope. He could see Cedarpelt and Piketooth racing toward the beech copse as he dived into the long marshy grass. The ground trembled under his paws as the dog pounded after him. Teeth snapped at his tail; hot breath bathed his heels. Pulling at the ground with his claws, Crookedpaw pushed harder, his mind blank as he hurtled blindly on. Suddenly he broke through a wall of fear scent. He’d reached his Clanmates!

“Keep running!” Hailstar screeched.

As Crookedpaw shot past them, the patrol closed ranks behind him and met the dog with a frenzy of claws and teeth. Crookedpaw pulled up, his lungs screaming as he fought to get his breath. Turning, he saw the dog flee. Oakheart led the charge after it. The patrol was driving it toward the fence, back to its home. Yelping in alarm, the dog scrabbled under the lowest bar and fled whimpering up the field.

“You saved my life!” Willowpaw’s yowl made Crookedpaw spin around.

The pale tabby was racing toward him with Graypaw at her heels. She stopped in front of him, purring loudly. “I thought that dog was going to kill me!” Eyes shining, she rubbed her cheek along his twisted jaw.

Crookedpaw’s pelt pricked, hot with embarrassment. “Th-that’s okay,” he stammered.

Suddenly Oakheart, Hailstar, and the others were crowding around.

“He saved me!” Willowpaw told them.

Her mentor Owlfur was still wide-eyed with shock. “It all happened so quickly,” he explained. “I thought Willowpaw had made it up a tree and then I looked down and there she was…” He trailed off, lost in thoughts of what might have happened.

“I’ve never seen anything braver,” Brightsky cut in. “Crookedpaw actually jumped on its back!”

Fallowtail pushed past her Clanmates and pressed her muzzle against Crookedpaw’s. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I’d die if I lost her again.”

Overwhelmed, Crookedpaw stared at his paws. “Any warrior would have done the same,” he insisted. He stole a look at Hailstar. Surely he’d managed to impress the RiverClan leader this time?

Of course you have. Mapleshade’s mew sounded in his ear. Look what happens when you put your Clan first.

“Are you sure you don’t need more ointment for your paws?” Oakheart mimicked Willowpaw’s mew as he followed Crookedpaw along the shore.

“Shut up.” Crookedpaw fluffed out his pelt, hoping it would cool him down. The newleaf sun was hot.

Oakheart took no notice. “But they must be sooooo sore after chasing that dog and rescuing me.”

Crookedpaw waded into the river, ignoring his brother.

“Graypaw says she’s going to move her nest next to yours,” Oakheart persisted.

Cool water flooded his ears as Crookedpaw dived under the surface. He swam strongly, following the dip of the riverbed, using his tail to balance him against the buffeting current. Eyes open, he could see a fat trout basking on the bottom. With a kick of his hind legs he shot forward, snapping his teeth around the trout and pushing upward toward daylight. He broke the surface with a splash, the trout flapping between his jaws. With a flick of his head, he snapped its spine and the fish drooped instantly.

“Nice catch.” Oakheart was sitting on the shore, washing his face.

Crookedpaw climbed out and dropped the fish beside his brother. “Aren’t you fishing?”

“I thought I’d let you get the best catch first,” Oakheart teased.

Crookedpaw nudged him playfully, unbalancing him. Tumbling on to his side, Oakheart purred, “It’s not really serious between you and Willowpaw, is it?”

“Who said it was?” Crookedpaw stared at him in surprise.

“The whole Clan’s been gossiping since sunhigh,” Oakheart told him.

Crookedpaw snorted. “They’re like a bunch of elders.” He shook out the water from his fur. “Willowpaw’s just a denmate.”

“Nothing more?”

“No!” Willowpaw was nice. And there was something special about her. But it was embarrassing to talk about it. “I just like her as a denmate! That’s not against the warrior code, is it?”

Oakpaw padded into the water. “I guess not.”

Crookedpaw watched his brother dive in and disappear. He frowned. Even if he did like Willowpaw, why would she like him? He had a twisted jaw that made other cats stare. Growling irritably, Crookedpaw dived back into the river. Who cares? Learning to be a great warrior was far more important.