Crookedstar’s Promise

Chapter 21

“Brambleberry!” Mudfur yowled as he hurried past the reed bed.

Crookedjaw hauled himself out of the river, water streaming from his pelt. He tipped his head on one side. The brown warrior’s call had been edged with worry.

Brambleberry poked her head out of her den. “Is Brightsky still uncomfortable?”

Mudfur’s tail trembled. “She keeps saying she’s thirsty and then she won’t drink.”

Brambleberry ducked back into her den. “Wait there.”

Crookedjaw knew they were worried about Brightsky. She’d moved to the nursery half a moon ago, expecting Mudfur’s kits. But fever had struck and she’d been sick for days. Crookedjaw picked his way across camp. The clearing was littered with his Clanmates stretched out in the bright sunshine, too sleepy to move. It was pointless hunting with the sun so high. It was too hot to eat and any fish caught now would be stinking by evening. Even the reeds were drooping under the scorching greenleaf sun.

Crookedjaw hopped over Rippleclaw, who was fast asleep, and landed beside Graypaw. The gray apprentice was huddled in the shade of the fallen tree. “Where’s Willowpaw?”

“She’s out training with Owlfur.” Graypaw gazed wistfully at the nursery. “I shouldn’t have crossed the bridge.” She tucked her tail tighter. “Then Brightsky wouldn’t have had to rescue me.”

“That didn’t make her ill,” Crookedjaw reassured her. “She knew she was expecting kits. It was her choice to carry on with her warrior duties as long as possible.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Graypaw sighed. “I would have come back when she told me.”

Are you sure? Crookedjaw bit his tongue, remembering his own days as an apprentice. “When are her kits due?”

“Claw-moon.”

“That soon?” Crookedjaw was surprised. It was only a few days away. “She’ll be fine,” he meowed.

Rippleclaw lifted his head and looked at Graypaw, sympathy lighting his gaze. “Are you still worrying about Brightsky?” He got sleepily to his paws. “Can’t Piketooth take you training?” Piketooth had been made Graypaw’s mentor when Brightsky had moved to the nursery. “It’ll take your mind off things.” Rippleclaw glanced across the clearing to where Piketooth and Voleclaw were playing moss-ball with Sunkit and Frogkit. “I could teach you some moves while he’s busy.”

Graypaw blinked gratefully at the black-and-silver warrior. “Yes, please.”

Rippleclaw led Graypaw to a shaded spot at the edge of the clearing and started showing her a battle crouch. The sedge rustled as Brambleberry nosed her way from her den. With a bundle of herbs clasped in her jaws, she led Mudfur across the clearing and into the nursery.

Crookedjaw closed his eyes. Please, StarClan, make Brightsky healthy again. A bundle of dark gray fur darted between his paws and pressed against his belly.

“Hide me!” Blackkit squeaked. “Don’t tell them where I am.”

Crookedjaw stifled a purr and drew his forepaws closer together. Skykit was leading the search party. Ottersplash’s kits, less than half a moon old, were following her as though she were Clan leader.

“Can you see him?” Loudkit mewed, his dark brown pelt pricking.

“What if he fell in the river?” Reedkit fretted.

“Don’t be silly!” Sedgekit rolled her eyes at her brother. “The warriors would be rushing around flapping like herons if he’d fallen in the river!”

“He’s not here.” Skykit sniffed her way around the sedge wall.

“Wait!” Loudkit tasted the air. “I can smell him.”

“Where?” Reedkit fluffed out his long, stiff tail. He darted past Skykit, nose to the ground, and sniffed his way between the lounging warriors, heading for Crookedjaw.

“Watch out,” Crookedjaw whispered to the wriggling bundle beneath his belly. “I think they’ve found you.” He jumped out of the way as the kit patrol launched itself at him. They dived onto Blackkit, squeaking with triumph.

“Found you! Found you!” Loudkit crowed.

“Now it’s my turn to hide,” Sedgekit squeaked.

Skykit flicked her brown tabby tail. “I want to play something different.” She glanced at Piketooth. He tossed the moss ball high over Sunkit’s and Frogkit’s heads. They leaped to reach it, but Voleclaw raised a paw and plucked it from the air. “I want to play that.” Skykit scampered away, her patrol following.

Whitefang grumbled as they clambered over him, and Troutclaw opened an eye and flicked his tail out of the way.

“StarClan bless them.” Birdsong dragged her gaze from the kits and called to Crookedjaw. “Is Shellheart back yet?”

Shellheart was leading Beetlenose, Petaldust, Cedarpelt, and Timberfur on border patrol. They’d been out since sunhigh.

“Not yet.” Crookedjaw shrugged. “They’ll be back soon unless they’ve found somewhere shady to rest.”

“I don’t know why they bother.” Troutclaw sat up. “There’s hardly any border left for them to patrol.”

Whitefang heaved himself to his paws and shook out his white pelt. “Has Hailstar decided when we will re-mark Sunningrocks?” He glanced toward the leader’s den, hidden in shade under the roots of the willow.

Lakeshine lifted her gray-and-white head. She was lying beside the nursery with Shimmerpelt and Ottersplash. “It’s too hot to talk about battles.”

Willow leaves fluttered as Oakheart jumped down from the lowest branch. “It’s never too hot to talk about battles.” He padded across the clearing. “Hailstar said claw-moon, which is any day now.” He glanced up to the wide blue sky. “The moon was no more than a sliver of trout skin last night.”

Rainflower stretched. “He isn’t planning a battle,” she reminded them. “He just wants to restore the proper boundary.”

Crookedjaw scratched an itch behind his ear. “I’m ready whenever Hailstar decides.”

Piketooth looked up from his game with the kits. “I hope I’m in the patrol,” he meowed. Every warrior wanted a chance to leave his or her scent.

“Me too!” Rippleclaw was adjusting Graypaw’s crouch with a paw. “Just reach a little farther,” he advised. “And you’ll have it perfect.”

Piketooth glanced at his apprentice. “Sorry, kits. Game’s over. I have to train Graypaw now.”

Sunkit’s tail drooped.

Frogkit leaped on to Piketooth’s tail. “Don’t go!”

Sedgekit raced around him. “Can we come?”

Loudkit leaped on his sister, tumbling her to the ground. “You can’t even swim!”

“Neither can you!” Sedgekit pushed him off.

“Stay away from the water!” Piketooth leaped over the squabbling kits, beckoning Graypaw with his tail. “Do you want to practice fishing?” he asked her as she followed him out of the camp.

Crookedjaw leaned down to wash his damp belly. Tiny paws scurried toward him.

“Attack!” A flurry of tails, paws, and noses battered his flank. Crookedjaw staggered dramatically and fell on to his side. “You’ve killed me!” he groaned as the kits swarmed over him.

Paw steps padded into camp.

“The patrol’s back!” Skykit squeaked.

Crookedjaw looked up to see Shellheart, Cedarpelt, Beetlenose, and Petaldust staring at him, whiskers twitching with amusement.

“Has Lakeshine made you leader of the nursery?” Shellheart teased.

Crookedjaw jumped to his paws, wincing as Skykit and Frogkit stuck in their claws and hung on like burrs.

“Sorry, Crookedjaw,” Cedarpelt purred. “I forgot to teach you how to fight off kits!”

“Let me help.” Beetlenose rolled a clump of moss between his paws and tossed it across the clearing. The kits squeaked with delight and darted after it like a shoal of minnows.

“Thanks.” As Crookedjaw followed Shellheart into the shade of the willow, the branches at the entrance to Hailstar’s den shivered.

“You’re back.” Hailstar padded into the clearing, his pelt shining in the sun. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words.”

“Loudkit! Sedgekit! Reedkit!” Ottersplash called to her kits. “Come out of the way.” Dragging their paws, the kits headed toward their mother.

“And you two!” Shimmerpelt called to Skykit and Blackkit.

Frogkit and Sunkit ducked behind Beetlenose, but the black warrior nosed them toward the nursery. “But we can swim!” Frogkit complained.

“Really?” Beetlenose picked Frogkit up by his scruff and dangled him over the edge of the river.

Lakeshine jumped to her paws. “No!” she shrilled. “Put him down! He’ll drown!”

Beetlenose purred. “Don’t panic.” He dropped the wriggling kit at his mother’s paws. “I’ll teach you to swim as soon as your mother says you’re ready,” he promised.

“I’d rather be taught to swim by a snake,” Crookedjaw muttered as Oakheart joined him at the edge of the clearing.

Oakheart didn’t answer. His attention was fixed on Hailstar. “I bet he’s going to announce the retaking of Sunningrocks.”

Crookedjaw flexed his claws. “Good.”

Timberfur paced the edge of the clearing. “At least you already know you’ll be part of the patrol.”

Hailstar waited for the Clan to settle, then lifted his muzzle. “We re-mark the Sunningrocks boundary tonight.”

Tension pricked the air. Oakheart leaned forward. Timberfur stopped pacing.

“Who are you taking?” Rippleclaw demanded.

“Shellheart, Owlfur, Echomist, Timberfur, Softwing, and Rippleclaw…” the RiverClan leader began.

And? Crookedjaw’s heart quickened. Surely Hailstar would keep his promise? Oakheart tensed beside him.

“Whitefang and Crookedjaw…”

Crookedjaw swallowed a purr of relief.

“Oakheart,” Hailstar went on. “And Voleclaw.” He sat down and curled his tail over his paws.

“Is that it?” Beetlenose lashed his tail.

Hailstar turned his gaze on the young warrior. “The new boundary will need re-marking for many moons to come,” he reminded him. “You’ll get your turn to leave your scent soon enough.”

“Retaking an old boundary’s not the same as marking an existing one!” Beetlenose glared at Crookedjaw. “Why does he get to go when he’s been a warrior for less than a moon? He didn’t even have an assessment. How do we know he can even climb the rocks?”

Crookedjaw leaped forward, bristling. “I climbed Sunningrocks when I was still an apprentice,” he growled.

Shellheart stepped between them. “Not every warrior can be on every patrol,” he soothed.

Beetlenose darted around Shellheart and squared up to Crookedjaw.

Shellheart leaned close. “It might be better for you to meet Beetlenose’s disappointment with words rather than claws,” he whispered in Crookedjaw’s ear.

Crookedjaw narrowed his eyes. You must put your Clan first. Mapleshade’s words rang in his ears. He smoothed his fur. “I’m lucky to have been chosen,” he confessed. “I’m sorry you won’t be with us tonight, Beetlenose.” The words nearly stuck in his throat but he forced them out for the sake of the Clan. Rainflower was glowering beneath the willow. She hadn’t been chosen, either. “I wish I could have the whole Clan beside me.” Crookedjaw nodded to Piketooth and Cedarpelt. “You taught me everything I know.” His paws pricked. He wasn’t used to making speeches. But if he was going to be leader one day, he’d better to get used to it. He met Beetlenose’s gaze. “And I learned lots just watching you train. Your courage gave me courage and your skill sharpened mine.” Not as much as Mapleshade’s. He dipped his head low. “When I leave my mark tonight, I shall be leaving it in your honor.” He looked up, hoping desperately that his words had soothed his Clanmates’ ruffled pelts.

Beetlenose’s eyes glittered. “Okay,” he conceded.

Oakheart padded past Crookedjaw and halted. “That’s right, Crookedjaw,” he purred. “We are a Clan and when one cat fights, he fights for the whole Clan.”

“Well said, son,” Shellheart meowed.

Crookedjaw felt a surge of pride. Was that a glimmer of respect flashing in Rainflower’s narrowed gaze?

Hailstar flicked his tail. “We leave at moonhigh.”

As the gathering broke up, Crookedjaw headed for the nursery. Joy fizzed beneath his pelt. This would be his first warrior mission. But before he left, he had time to help out with some nursery duties.

He called to the kits, sulking behind their mothers. “Who wants a game of hunt the frog?”

The night heron spiraled up and whirled away downstream as the patrol padded on to the shore. Crookedjaw paused at the water’s edge. The river flowed black and smooth past his paws, lit only by stars and the thinnest scratch of moon. Sunningrocks stood on the far bank, dark against a dark sky, timeless as Highstones.

Hailstar slid into the river. As the water closed silently over his back, his Clanmates followed him in. Crookedjaw let the cool water wrap itself around him, relishing the chill after a long day’s wait. Quieter than trout, the patrol swam the river, hardly disturbing the surface of the water. No ThunderClan lookout would have seen or heard them. They probably would be watching the stepping-stones, alert for a flash of pelt or the sound of paws on stone.

Crookedjaw pushed ahead with long, smooth kicks and reached the shore first. Here the river’s edge was little more than a rock shelf jutting out below Sunningrocks and dropping straight down to the bottom of the river. Crookedjaw pulled himself noiselessly from the water, hopping up onto the stone. Oakheart climbed out beside him while Hailstar and Whitefang waded on to the bank a tail-length downstream. Voleclaw flung a paw over the edge of the rock shelf and hauled himself out with Rippleclaw and Softwing on his tail. Echomist and Owlfur followed and Shellheart brought up the rear. They stood dripping on the bank while Hailstar launched himself up the rock.

“Wait here,” he hissed down. “I’ll check for patrols.”

Crookedjaw gazed up at the starlit sky. He remembered last time he was here, fighting Bluepaw and Snowpaw. This time he wasn’t going to be chased from his own territory.

Hailstar’s head appeared over the top. “All clear.”

With a nod Shellheart leaped up the sheer rock face. His Clanmates swarmed after him. Crookedjaw followed, hooking himself up one clawhold at a time, and landing easily on the smooth, flat stone. The rock sparkled with starlight.

Hailstar waved his tail toward the trees crowding the far edge of Sunningrocks. ThunderClan’s territory, every last branch and twig. “You begin that side, Shellheart.” He nodded toward the top of the cliff. “Owlfur, Softwing, Voleclaw, and Rippleclaw, join him.” He glanced at the others. “You come with me.”

As Crookedjaw followed the RiverClan leader over the rock, he let the cool night air bathe his tongue. ThunderClan scent. His pelt pricked.

Stale.

They hadn’t been here for days. He guessed glaring sun was too hot for cats used to forest shade.

Hailstar sprayed the first tree they reached. Crookedjaw winced at the stench. It was strong enough for ThunderClan to smell long before they reached the tree line.

“I want every bush and tree sprayed,” Hailstar ordered.

Crookedjaw crossed the narrow strip of grass and stopped beside a bramble. He marked it, growling. Smell that, ThunderClan! By the time they met back at the cliff top, the forest was drenched in RiverClan scent.

“I want four warriors to stay,” Hailstar announced. “If a ThunderClan patrol comes, challenge them. If there’s a fight, we’ll hear from the camp and send reinforcements.”

Timberfur stepped forward. “I’ll stay.”

“Me too.” Crookedjaw lined up with him.

Hailstar nudged him away. “I want my most experienced warriors to take the first watch.” He glanced at Shellheart. “You stay with Timberfur, Echomist, and Owlfur.”

Crookedjaw’s itched with frustration as he followed Oakheart down the cliff face. He lowered himself paw hold by paw hold until he felt the ground brush his tail-tip. Then he let himself drop and landed lightly beside Whitefang.

The white warrior’s eyes shone. “That was as easy as swallowing a minnow.”

Hailstar nodded. “Let’s go and tell the Clan.”

Their Clanmates were waiting in the starlit clearing. Beetlenose paced beside the reed bed. Lilystem stared expectantly from beneath the willow. Even the queens had slid from the nursery and were lined up, their eyes filled with hope.

“Did you do it?” Lakeshine called.

“Sunningrocks belongs to RiverClan again!” Hailstar announced.

The Clan’s cheers sent roosting birds flapping into the still night air.

Willowpaw hurried over to Crookedjaw. “Did you have to fight?”

“It was easy,” he told her. “There wasn’t a single patrol.”

Beetlenose snorted. “That’s because all of ThunderClan is asleep!”

“They hadn’t been there for days,” Voleclaw added.

“It’s too hot for their delicate forest paws,” Petaldust crowed.

Crookedjaw looked around at his jubilant Clanmates. Was he the only cat who felt that this victory had been too easy?

“I can’t believe they haven’t tried to fight for it.” Oakheart hauled himself onto the topmost boulder of Sunningrocks. “It’s been two days. We’ll be able to bring the elders up here soon to enjoy the warmth.”

Crookedjaw followed his brother over the edge and surveyed the wide stretch of stone, white now beneath the fierce morning sun. “They might still be waiting to catch us off guard.” He nodded to the RiverClan patrol they’d been sent to relieve. Petaldust and Cedarpelt flicked their tails in welcome. Beetlenose stretched while Mudfur hurried toward them.

“Brightsky’s doing fine,” Crookedjaw told the brown warrior. Had Hailstar hoped to distract Mudfur from Brightsky’s illness by sending him for guard duty? Clearly it hadn’t worked. Mudfur was frowning as he disappeared over the edge of the rock, fast as a fish, and splashed into the river. Why hadn’t StarClan healed Brightsky by now?

Fallowtail and Whitefang clambered onto the rocks as Beetlenose, Cedarpelt, and Petaldust began to climb down.

“Mudfur was in a hurry,” Whitefang panted.

Fallowtail sighed. “I just hope Brightsky’s fever breaks before her kits come.” She called after Petaldust, “Send word if there’s any change.”

“Even if it’s bad news?” Petaldust’s mew echoed up the rock.

“Yes.”

Beetlenose yowled from the foot of the cliff face. “Call if you need help.”

Crookedjaw turned away. “We won’t need help.” Not one marker had been replaced by ThunderClan scent in the two days since they’d set them. ThunderClan seemed to have given in without a fight. Crookedjaw padded across the rock and lay down on its hot, smooth surface.

Oakheart sat beside him, staring into the woods while Fallowtail and Whitefang sniffed along the rim of the rock plateau. White clouds drifted across the sun, sending shadows over the rocks. Crookedjaw stretched, enjoying the sunshine and shade sweeping his pelt. Oakheart began washing.

“I can’t believe it was so easy.” Whitefang sounded as if he’d wanted a battle.

Crookedjaw rolled over. “They may still make us fight for them.”

Below them, bushes rustled at the tree line.

Crookedjaw sat up, bristling. “Did you hear that?”

Fallowtail tasted the air. “ThunderClan,” she whispered.

The patrol was on its paws in a moment, hackles up, staring into the trees. Crookedjaw took a long breath, letting the air wash his tongue. There were definitely ThunderClan cats moving among the undergrowth, but not enough to make an attack patrol. He detected one familiar scent.

“Bluefur.” Oakheart was already bounding down the rocks.

“Careful!” Fallowtail warned.

Crookedjaw shook his head. “They won’t attack,” he reassured her. “It’s just a border patrol.”

Oakheart was peering through the trees. His ears pricked as though he’d spotted prey. Then Crookedjaw heard a vicious hiss and the yowl of a ThunderClan warrior calling to her Clanmate. “Bluefur!”

Oakheart turned away, pelt smooth, eyes glittering.

Whitefang jumped down the rocks to meet him. “Did you see anything?” he called.

“Just a young ThunderClan warrior being nosy.” Oakheart climbed back up the rocks and sat down to lick his paws.

“Just a young warrior?” Crookedjaw remembered Oakheart talking about Bluefur at the Gathering. “It was Bluefur, wasn’t it?”

Oakheart ran his wet paw over his ear. “So?”

“Was she upset about losing Sunningrocks?”

“I guess so.” Oakheart sniffed. “I didn’t ask. Why would I want to speak to a ThunderClan cat?”

“You seemed like you were really interested in finding out all about her after the last Gathering.”

His brother stopped washing. “It’s not me who moons over she-cats!” Oakheart shot back. “You follow Willowpaw around like a kit following its mother.”

Crookedjaw flushed. “I do not!”

Oakheart nodded. “Yeah, right.” He sounded unconvinced.

Crookedjaw narrowed his eyes and leaped on his brother. “I’m just helping her with her training!”

Oakheart grabbed his shoulders and rolled him over. “That’s one way of putting it!”

They tussled, squawking, on the warm rock.

“Hey!” Fallowtail grabbed Crookedjaw’s scruff and pulled him off. “We’re supposed to be guarding our territory,” she growled. “Not showing ThunderClan how we play fight!”

Crookedjaw sat up, his fur ruffled. “Sorry.”

“Fallowtail!” Whitefang was calling from the forest’s edge. “More ThunderClan warriors are coming!” He dropped into a crouch as Fallowtail, Oakheart, and Crookedjaw leaped down Sunningrocks to join him.

Crookedjaw squinted into the green shadows. He could see pelts flashing between the trunks. Anger flared in his chest. No ThunderClan cat was going to set a paw on his territory. Now that RiverClan had reclaimed it, he’d fight to the death to keep it. He curled his lip and hissed into the forest. The undergrowth swished and the pelts melted away.

Fox-hearts!

Crookedjaw felt power pulsing in his paws. He was ready to beat any cat who threatened his Clan. Mapleshade was right: Being loyal to his Clan felt better than anything else in the whole world!