Crookedstar’s Promise

Chapter 23

Crookedjaw padded, yawning, from his nest. Dawn was just starting to brighten the horizon. The river gurgled beyond the reeds and snores rumbled from the other dens as he nosed his way into the clearing. He’d noticed the Clan had been sleeping more since the death of Brightsky and her kits. They crawled later from their dens, their old enthusiasm for the day’s duties drooping like sedge beneath a heavy frost.

“Ow!”

A squeak made him pause.

“You’re treading on my tail!”

The sedge was rustling on the far side of camp. Crookedjaw strained to see through the half-light. A tiny tail was disappearing among the green fronds. He padded noiselessly across the clearing, pricking his ears.

“Which way are we going?”

“I don’t know!”

He recognized the squabbling mews of Frogkit and Skykit.

“Why didn’t we just go out the entrance?”

“We might have been caught.”

Crookedjaw plunged his head into the sedge and grabbed Frogkit by his scruff. Dragging him out, he dropped him on the ground and reached in for Skykit.

“Hey!” She struggled as he pulled her out of the stalks.

“Where are you going?” he asked sternly, depositing Skykit beside her denmate.

The two kits exchanged glances. Crookedjaw guessed they were working out whether to tell the truth or not. Fur brushed the sedge wall behind him.

Brambleberry.

She was yawning. “I was just heading out to fetch herbs,” she mewed sleepily.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Crookedjaw greeted her. “I caught these two trying to sneak out of camp.”

Brambleberry’s whiskers twitched. “What? Kits! Trying to sneak out? That’s never happened before!” She stared in mock surprise at Crookedjaw.

Crookedjaw swallowed back a purr. He was trying to stay stern for the kits’ sake. Besides, he knew better than any cat the dangers waiting beyond the camp wall for adventurous kits. “Where were you going?” he asked them again.

Frogkit glanced at Brambleberry, then at his paws. “We wanted to see where Brightsky’s kits were buried,” he mumbled.

Brambleberry frowned. “Why in the name of StarClan would you want to do that?”

Skykit shuffled her paws. “We wanted to see if it was true they were dead.”

Crookedjaw leaned closer. “Why wouldn’t it be true?”

“StarClan doesn’t really let kits die, does it?” The kit’s pale brown fur rippled.

Frogkit twitched his striped tail. “Ottersplash wouldn’t let us see the vigil.”

Crookedjaw tucked his tail tight over his paws as he remembered the long, heartbreaking night, less than half a moon ago, when Mudfur had chased his Clanmates away from Brightsky’s body and cradled his three dead kits against his mate’s stiff flank.

“StarClan does take kits,” Brambleberry told them. “And keeps them safe.” She crouched beside the wide-eyed kits. “They’ll be allowed to hunt there. StarClan has the clearest rivers and fastest fish. And they’ll be with Brightsky.”

Frogkit stuck out his tail. “Birdsong says StarClan took them as an omen.”

“Rainflower and Echomist say that more bad things are going to happen,” Skykit added.

Frogkit went on. “Piketooth thinks StarClan is angry with us.”

“And Troutclaw says that’s why you couldn’t save the kits or Brightsky.”

Brambleberry flinched. “It wasn’t an omen.” Her mew was steady. “Sometimes bad things happen. I did everything I could, but Brightsky was too sick and it made her kits sick, too.”

Crookedjaw drew closer to the medicine cat. “If StarClan was angry with us, why did they leave us Leopardkit?” he reminded the kits. Mudfur had named his daughter after the ancient Clan, hoping it would give the tiny kit all the strength she would need to survive without her mother.

“I guess they want us to look after her,” Skykit conceded.

“Exactly,” Brambleberry agreed. “And why would they leave her with us if they thought we were bad or that bad things were going to happen?”

Frogkit flexed his claws. “Can we go and see where they’re buried anyway?”

“No.” Crookedjaw nosed them toward the nursery. “Shimmerpelt and Lakeshine will be wondering where you are.”

Skykit sniffed. “Shimmerpelt’s always too busy feeding Leopardkit.”

Brambleberry smoothed the kit’s ruffled fur with her tail-tip. “Why don’t you take your mother some wet moss?” she suggested. “Feeding Leopardkit will make her thirsty. She’ll be so proud of you for being helpful to Brightsky’s kit.”

Skykit’s eyes brightened. “Okay!” She dashed away toward the reed bed.

“Don’t fall in!” Crookedjaw warned as Frogkit hurtled after her. He turned back to Brambleberry, hesitating. “Are you sure it wasn’t an omen?”

“I’m sure.”

Crookedjaw narrowed his eyes. “How can you tell what’s an omen and what isn’t?”

“An omen feels different,” Brambleberry told him.

“Can omens change things or do they just tell you what’s going to happen?” He knew Brambleberry would understand that he wasn’t just talking about the kits’ gossip.

Brambleberry met his gaze. “Sometimes they tell you what’s already happening.”

“So that you can change it?”

“So that you’re prepared for it.”

Frustration clawed at Crookedjaw’s belly. She wasn’t giving anything away. “Why don’t you just tell me about my omen—the one that worried you?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she answered softly.

“You mean there wasn’t an omen?”

“I mean it’s up to you.”

“What’s up to me?” Crookedjaw couldn’t keep the growl from his voice.

“The path you choose is in your paws,” Brambleberry meowed. “Only you can know your own heart, and that will decide whether you choose the right path or the wrong path.”

“My heart is as true and loyal as any RiverClan cat!”

“Good.”

“Let me prove it!”

“How?”

Crookedjaw searched desperately for ideas. “I don’t know! Let me help you gather herbs!” Perhaps if he spent time with her, he’d be able to persuade her he was good.

“I’ve already asked Beetlenose to help me.”

Crookedjaw swished his tail. “Okay!” he snapped. “But don’t blame me if I choose the wrong path. You’re the medicine cat! You’re supposed to help your Clanmates, not make them suffer because you won’t tell them everything.” Ears hot with fury, he stalked away.

The first light of dawn was showing behind the willow tree. Beetlenose padded from his den and greeted Brambleberry with a yawn. “I’m ready,” he muttered. He brightened as Hailstar ducked out of his den. “Can’t you get Willowbreeze to help you?” he begged Brambleberry. “This is an apprentice’s job and she’s the closest to an apprentice we’ve got.”

Brambleberry scowled back. “Stop fussing and hurry up.”

Beetlenose sighed and, casting a final, rueful look at Hailstar, followed her out of camp.

“Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words.” The RiverClan leader padded to the center of the clearing.

Crookedjaw frowned. What was the leader planning now? Whatever it was, he hoped it would cheer up the Clan. The kits weren’t the only ones who believed StarClan was punishing them.

Dens rustled and paws scuffed the ground as his Clanmates climbed from their nests and padded to hear what Hailstar wanted.

Rippleclaw’s fur was ruffled and unwashed. Piketooth sat askew, his whiskers crumpled. Even Shellheart’s shoulders drooped.

Oakheart squeezed next to Crookedjaw, his gaze bleary with sleep. “What’s going on?” He sighed. “It’s hardly dawn.”

Hailstar turned slowly, eyeing his Clan. “We took Sunningrocks back and ThunderClan didn’t even retaliate. Today we will take more of their territory.”

More? Crookedjaw looked past Hailstar to his father, who was sitting behind the RiverClan leader. He tried to read Shellheart’s gaze, but it was clear and unblinking.

Cedarpelt stepped forward. “Do we need more of their territory?” he asked.

“We need the river,” Hailstar countered. “We should control both banks beyond Sunningrocks. Which includes the forest that runs along the far side of the river.”

Owlfur tipped his head. “You want to capture forest?”

Hailstar nodded.

Troutclaw shook his graying head. “What would RiverClan do with trees?”

Rippleclaw answered the elder with a growl. “It means we’ll be able to fish the river above Sunningrocks without fear of attack.”

Willowbreeze was looking puzzled. “ThunderClan would never attack us in the water,” she pointed out. “They’re terrified of it.”

Ottersplash padded forward, her kits trotting after her. “But what if they learned to swim?” She shooed them away with her tail. “It’d give them prey all year round. As long as they control that stretch of river, there’s a chance they may learn to use it like we do.”

Troutclaw snorted. “ThunderClan is more likely to learn how to fly!”

Birdsong nodded. “RiverClan has never owned that piece of territory!”

“Patrolling it would be hard work,” Fallowtail added.

Timberfur lashed his tail. “Are you scared of hard work?”

Fallowtail flattened her ears. “Of course not!”

“It would show ThunderClan we’re strong,” Whitefang put in.

“They wouldn’t try taking Sunningrocks again,” Piketooth growled. “They’d be too busy trying to hold on to what’s left of their forest.”

“Then it’s decided.” Hailstar flexed his claws.

Whitefang circled the RiverClan leader, pelt bristling. “When do we attack?”

“Now!”

Crookedjaw stared at Hailstar in astonishment. Whitefang’s gaze shone with excitement. Rippleclaw’s, too. Timberfur clawed at the ground impatiently. But Cedarpelt watched through narrowed eyes. Fallowtail was frowning and Owlfur turned his head away, sighing.

Why isn’t he satisfied with Sunningrocks? Crookedjaw didn’t understand Hailstar’s plan. How in the name of StarClan could they win a battle fought on ThunderClan’s land? He’d seen the thick ferns and clawing brambles that choked the trees around Sunningrocks. His thick pelt rippled as he imagined getting it tangled in a thornbush.

Oakheart’s mew shook him from his thoughts. “Does Hailstar think a battle will cheer us up?”

“I guess he’s got to try something.” Crookedjaw shrugged. “Even the kits have been worried about Brightsky’s death.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ottersplash whispering to her kits. “But a battle is risky and we don’t need more grief.”

“I want to be in the attack patrol.” Ottersplash’s mew rang across the clearing.

Shimmerpelt gasped. “What about your kits?”

“Will you look after them till I return?” Ottersplash dipped her head to her denmate.

“O-of course,” Shimmerpelt stuttered. “But what if you—”

Ottersplash cut her off. “Timberfur takes that risk,” she answered sharply. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Hailstar padded across the clearing. “I’d be proud to have you fight beside me.” His eyes glowed as he surveyed the rest of his Clan. “Timberfur, Rippleclaw, Shellheart, Piketooth, and Whitefang.” He nodded to each warrior. “You’ll join us.”

For once, Crookedjaw was relieved he hadn’t been chosen. “An impressive patrol,” he commented.

Oakheart sniffed. “They believe in this battle.”

“At least someone does,” Crookedjaw growled under his breath. He felt a flash of guilt. “Can I lead a border patrol on this side of the river?” he called to Hailstar. “We haven’t checked the bridge or fence in days.”

Hailstar was already leading his Clanmates toward the reeds. He glanced back. “Okay,” he answered. “Take anyone you like.”

Loudkit was chasing after Ottersplash. “When are you coming back?” he whimpered.

She stopped and leaned down. “I told you,” she murmured softly. “I’ll be back before sunhigh.”

“Promise?”

Ottersplash pressed her muzzle to Loudkit’s head. “StarClan willing,” she breathed.

Loudkit stared after her as Ottersplash followed the patrol out of camp. “Will StarClan want her like they wanted Brightsky?” he whispered.

Crookedjaw opened his mouth to reassure him, but Shimmerpelt had already darted forward and was sweeping him away with a soft swish of her tail.

Crookedjaw skirted the Twoleg bridge and headed away from the river, into a line of willow trees. He glanced over his shoulder. Voleclaw, Oakheart, Petaldust, Willowbreeze, and Graypool were following him through the straggly grass, ducking behind the slim gray trunks at the edge of the meadow.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t hunt,” Voleclaw grumbled.

“We’re patrolling, not hunting,” Crookedjaw told him.

“Just because you suggested the patrol doesn’t make you Clan leader.” Voleclaw sniffed.

Petaldust nudged her brother. “It does make him patrol leader, though,” she pointed out.

“Sssh!” Crookedjaw paused and glanced through the willow trees. The sun was lifting into the sky, and all around the meadow Twolegs were beginning to stir from their pelt-dens. The field was dotted with the brightly colored mounds. They rustled and flapped in the breeze.

“Get down!” Crookedjaw warned as a Twoleg crawled out of his den and padded, coughing, up the field. A Twoleg kit tottered out after him, carrying a bright yellow ball. It tossed the ball and stood watching as it rolled across the grass and bumped into another den.

“We’re better get past here before they’re all awake,” Oakheart whispered.

Crookedjaw glanced at the knotted gray fence that bounded the field beyond the trees. They’d have to creep up through the willows and around the top of the field to reach the dog fence. “Come on.” He began to pad forward, tail down. Sunlight streamed through the shivering leaves and dappled the grass. Crookedjaw trod lightly, keeping one eye on the pelt-dens.

Suddenly a shadow flashed between them. Crookedjaw paused. The shadow flashed again and with a jolt he recognized the shape. A cat. With shoulders and tail that were familiar.

Mapleshade? He hadn’t trained with her for a moon. Why was she here?

Oakheart halted beside him and tasted the air. “What’s up?”

“Can you see that cat?” Crookedjaw nodded to the gap between pelt-dens where Mapleshade’s outline was showing clear as day.

“What cat?” Oakheart frowned at him. “Do you think the Twolegs have started taking their kittypets out with them?”

“It’s not a kittypet,” Crookedjaw whispered. “It’s a warrior.”

Oakheart twitched. “Where?”

“There.”

Mapleshade returned his gaze, then flitted behind a pelt-den as the Twoleg kit toddled past.

“I can’t see anything.”

“What’s holding us up?” Voleclaw hissed from behind.

Willowbreeze crept past him and stopped beside Crookedjaw. “Is anything wrong?”

Crookedjaw shook his head. “I’m seeing things,” he joked. As he began to move off, Mapleshade appeared again, padding around the edge of the pelt-den. What is she doing? He kept walking. His patrol was depending on him to get them away from these Twolegs and safely back to camp.

“You definitely can’t see any cats with the Twolegs?” he checked with Oakheart.

“Definitely.” Oakheart flicked his tail over Crookedjaw’s spine. “I think you should get Brambleberry to check your eyes when we get back.” He purred. “And I can tell Beetlenose he’s missed two patrols. He’s going to be spitting mad. He’s picking mallow leaves while Hailstar’s invading ThunderClan and we’re stalking a dog and an invisible cat!”

“Wait!” Crookedjaw interrupted, his heart tightening.

Mapleshade was nudging the yellow ball toward them.

Go away! Panic flared in him. The Twolegs will see us!

Oakheart bristled beside him. “Is the wind making that ball move?” His gaze was fixed on the slowly rolling ball.

“No.” Crookedjaw stared pleadingly at Mapleshade as she tapped the ball closer. She held his gaze but did nothing to stop the ball from trickling within a reed-length of the warriors.

“Twoleg!” Willowbreeze’s hiss snapped his attention from Mapleshade. The Twoleg kit was running after the ball, mewling.

Graypool stiffened, a growl rumbling in her throat. “It’s heading straight for us.”

“Duck down!” Crookedjaw ordered. “And stay still! It won’t see us through the long grass. It’s just a kit.”

The patrol crouched, fear sparking around them. Crookedjaw peered through the green stems. Mapleshade’s eyes glittered as she rolled the ball closer. With a final push she sent it spinning toward the edge of the meadow. The Twoleg kit stumbled after it, paws outstretched. With a thump, the kit fell over and started to wail.

A huge Twoleg darted from a pelt-den and raced toward the kit, yowling. It scooped it up and held it, its gaze drifting toward the ball and then the willow trees.

“StarClan help us!” Willowbreeze’s hiss barely made it through her gritted teeth.

The Twoleg let out a yelp of surprise.

“It’s seen us!” Oakheart growled.

“Hide!” Crookedjaw backed deeper into the long grass. He darted behind a trunk and held his breath as the Twoleg put down its kit and headed into the willows. The Twoleg kit was pointing straight at them! Voleclaw darted behind a fern. Petaldust crouched beside him. Graypool flattened herself beneath an arching strand of bramble and Oakheart ducked behind a rock. Crookedjaw scanned the trees. Where was Willowbreeze?

The Twoleg was wading through the long grass now, ducking under a low branch. Willowbreeze! Crookedjaw’s heart lurched as he spotted her backed against the gray knotted fence where it extended into the trees. The Twoleg was leaning down toward her. With a grunt, it reached out with one pink hairless paw and grabbed her scruff.

Crookedjaw swallowed back a cry of rage and fear and watched helplessly as the Twoleg carried Willowbreeze back toward its pelt-den. Its kit followed, yelping happily.

Oakheart was beside Crookedjaw in an instant. “What happens now?”

Crookedjaw stared at Willowbreeze, her paws churning the air as she dangled in the Twoleg’s grip. “We’ve got to rescue her!”

“How?” Voleclaw stared at him, eyes blazing. “Why did you bring us here, you fish-brain?”

Petaldust leaped from her hiding place and circled her Clanmates. “What are we going to do?”

“We’ve got to get out of here before they find the rest of us,” Voleclaw hissed.

Crookedjaw noticed Graypool staring after her sister in horror. “We’ll rescue her, I promise.”

“Not now, though.” Oakheart nodded to the Twolegs, who were crowding to see their catch. Some of them turned and pointed to the willow trees.

Crookedjaw straightened up. “Let’s get back to camp and organize a rescue patrol. We’ll take the quickest route. Just make sure no one slows down enough to get caught as well.” He raced out of the trees and pelted across the meadow. The Twolegs stared in surprise as the patrol streamed past them.

“Willowbreeze!” Crookedjaw yowled to her as he passed. “Don’t fight them! Stay calm! I’ll come back to rescue you!” He pounded into the marshes, twisting his ears to make sure he could hear his patrol at his heels. Weaving among the tussocks of spiky grass, he hurtled toward camp. He raced through the entrance so fast that reeds whipped his back. “They’ve got Willowbreeze!”

The words froze on his tongue. The clearing was littered with injured cats. Ottersplash lay panting, her ear torn, her pelt clumped with blood. Her kits pressed against her, wailing with fear as Brambleberry draped cobwebs over her wounds. Whitefang crouched beside her, his muzzle bleeding, while Piketooth limped back and forth, growling under his breath. Hailstar sat huddled in conversation with Shellheart, Timberfur, and Rippleclaw.

Crookedjaw stared in dismay.

They lost the battle!

But what about Willowbreeze? He had to get her back.

StarClan help me!