Crookedstar’s Promise

Chapter 24

Petaldust and Graypool skidded to a halt behind Crookedjaw.

“They lost!” Petaldust gasped.

Voleclaw stopped beside them. “What happened?”

“We’ll worry about that later!” Crookedjaw raced toward Hailstar. “Twolegs took Willowbreeze!”

Shellheart looked up, his eyes dark. Hailstar’s pelt bushed up.

Timberfur flexed his bloodstained claws. “Where?”

“When?” Rippleclaw leaned forward.

“In the pelt-den field. Just now.”

“Did they hurt her?” Hailstar demanded.

Crookedjaw shook his head. “They just carried her to their den.”

“They didn’t harm her at all?” Hailstar pressed. “Did they seem angry?”

Crookedjaw frowned. What difference did that make? They’d taken her. She’d be terrified and alone.

Hailstar sighed. “This has been a bad day.” He called to Brambleberry. “How’s Ottersplash?”

Brambleberry peeled another cobweb from the wad beside her. “No deep wounds,” she reported. “She’ll be okay.”

Timberfur shrugged. “The brambles did more damage than ThunderClan.”

Rippleclaw’s pelt was smeared with blood. “They knew what they were doing when they drove us deeper into the forest.”

Crookedjaw leaned forward. “What about Willowbreeze?”

Hailstar shifted his paws. “From what you say, it seems like the Twolegs don’t want to hurt her. She’ll be okay until tomorrow. We’ll send a rescue party then.”

“Tomorrow might be too late! What if they leave in the night and take her with them?” Don’t you care?

Shellheart ran his tail down Crookedjaw’s spine. “We’ve taken quite a beating today,” he explained.

Crookedjaw ducked away.

Fallowtail pounded toward them. “Graypool says Willowbreeze has been taken!” Her blue eyes darted frantically from one warrior to another. “We have to save her!”

“We’ll rescue her tomorrow,” Hailstar meowed gently. “Once we’ve recovered from our wounds.”

“You’re leaving her there?” Fallowtail stared at him. “Is it because she’s half WindClan?”

Hailstar shook his head. “That has nothing to do with it.”

“Really?” Fallowtail curled her lip. “You gave her up easily last time. Are you giving her up again?”

“You gave her up last time,” Hailstar corrected.

“And you let me!”

“I rescued her from WindClan,” Hailstar reminded her.

“You just wanted to win your Clan’s respect!” Fallowtail hissed.

Hailstar’s eyes glittered. “I wanted your kits to be with their true Clan.”

Timberfur stood and nudged Fallowtail away. “Hailstar will rescue her.” He steered her toward the clearing.

Crookedjaw followed. “She’ll be okay.” He nodded to Timberfur. “I’ll look after her.”

As Timberfur returned to Hailstar and Shellheart, Crookedjaw felt Fallowtail tremble beside him. “You have to save her!” Her blue eyes were clouded with fear. “I can’t lose her again!”

Graypool joined them. “We can’t leave her there,” she agreed. She leaned against her mother. “Who knows what the Twolegs will do with her?”

Crookedjaw nodded. “I’ll rescue her,” he promised.

“Now?” Graypool prompted.

“After dark.” Crookedjaw was already planning his mission. He’d never get past the Twolegs while it was light, but they slept at night. He’d be able to find Willowbreeze in the dark by following her scent.

“Can I come?” Graypool asked.

Fallowtail bristled. “No!”

Crookedjaw gazed sympathetically at the gray warrior. “You stay with Fallowtail,” he ordered. “I can do this alone.”

Why had Mapleshade pulled such a stupid trick? Did she hate Willowbreeze that much? Where was her loyalty to the Clan?

The day dragged on. As the sun slowly eased toward the horizon, Crookedjaw’s heart seemed to beat his chest hollow. Fallowtail paced along the edge of the reeds, muttering to herself, while Graypool trotted after her. Brambleberry moved from injured warrior to injured warrior, treating wounds, while the kits raced around the clearing acting out the battle.

“It’s your turn to be ThunderClan!” Sunkit poked Frogkit with her paw.

“I don’t want to be stinky ThunderClan!” Frogkit growled.

Owlfur and Cedarpelt had restocked the fresh-kill pile, but Crookedjaw wasn’t hungry. As the river slid past, the air pressed hot against his pelt. Crookedjaw longed for a breeze. He glanced at the horizon, hoping for clouds to signal a change in the weather. But the sky was clear, blossoming stars as it darkened around a pale half-moon.

Brambleberry got to her paws. It was time for her meeting at the Moonstone with the medicine cats from the other Clans. Crookedjaw watched her head out of the camp, wondering how Goosefeather would welcome her after today’s battle.

It was time he left, too.

“Aren’t you eating?” Shellheart called as Crookedjaw padded past the fresh-kill pile.

“Later.” Crookedjaw headed for the entrance. “I want a swim first,” he mumbled. “It’s hot.” He ducked through the entrance and hurried along the grassy path.

“I know where you’re going.” Brambleberry’s mew surprised him. She bounded down the bank and blocked his path.

“How?”

The medicine cat’s eyes were wild, as though something had startled her.

“Are you okay?” Crookedjaw shifted his paws. What was wrong with her?

Brambleberry ignored his question. “You’re going to get Willowbreeze.” She circled him, tail flicking.

“Someone has to.”

“Yes, yes,” she agreed distractedly. “And that someone must be you. You must do it. It is part of your destiny.”

Crookedjaw pricked his ears. My destiny! That must be why Mapleshade had been in the field. “What do you know about my destiny?”

“I know what I need to know. This is it. This is part of it.” Brambleberry paused and stared at him. “You’re going to rescue Willowbreeze? Is that the path you’re choosing?”

“Is that the path I should choose?” Crookedjaw’s belly twisted at the alternative: to let Willowbreeze stay with the Twolegs.

“You know your own heart.” Brambleberry started pacing around him again. “I just hope StarClan is right.”

“Right about what?”

Before he had finished speaking, Brambleberry darted back up the bank and disappeared into shadow. Crookedjaw swallowed. Am I doing the right thing? He pushed away the thought. Of course I am! I can’t abandon Willowbreeze. She’s my Clanmate.

He bounded up the bank, following Brambleberry’s trail around the camp and into the marshes. The medicine cat must have moved fast because her scent was already growing stale. Crookedjaw headed down to the shore and followed the river upstream. The water looked black and deep beneath the stars. Behind him the reeds rattled and the night heron swooped low across the water before soaring away.

Crookedjaw veered away from the river and followed the shore past the first meadow, skirting the Twoleg field right up to the bridge. He paused there, ducking down in its spiky shadow, catching his breath. I’m not scared, he told himself. He flexed his claws and peered through the willow trees. The pelt-dens glowed with yellow light, throwing wildly misshapen shadows across the field as the Twolegs moved around inside.

Pebbles shifted on the shore downstream. Crookedjaw froze. Something was stalking him. He crouched deeper into the shadow, tasting the air, scenting nothing but Twoleg smells. Keeping low, he crept out from beneath the bridge and stalked forward. He ducked beneath the longest grass and crept along the shore.

A shadow skirted the water. Crookedjaw flexed his claws and crouched down, ready to attack.

“Crookedjaw?”

Graypool?

He straightened up. “What are you doing here?”

She dashed forward to greet him. “It’s spooky out here at night!” Her eyes were glittering.

“I thought I told you to stay behind and look after Fallowtail.”

“Echomist’s with her,” Graypool mewed.

Crookedjaw’s paws pricked with irritation. “It’s bad enough that I lost Willowbreeze!” he growled. “I don’t want to lose you, too!”

“You won’t!” Graypool’s claws scraped the pebbles. “I’m here to help get her back!”

“Go home!”

“No!”

Crookedjaw hissed with frustration. “Fine. Follow me.”

Graypool jumped up the bank into the willow trees.

“What did I just say?” Crookedjaw yanked her back down by her tail. “Follow me! And stay close.”

He padded quietly back to the bridge, leaped up onto the shadowy timbers, and tasted the air. The pelt-dens were noisy with Twolegs mumbling and yowling.

Graypool snorted. “Don’t they ever go to sleep?”

Crookedjaw beckoned her on with a flick of his muzzle. “At least they’re inside,” he whispered. “Let’s see if we can figure out which one Willowbreeze is in.”

Heart pounding, Crookedjaw padded across the field, the soft grass stroking his belly fur. Graypool followed, her paw steps no more than a faint whisper on the grass. They halted beside the nearest pelt-den and began sniffing the edge. Ducking down, Crookedjaw caught a glimpse inside. It was chaotic, with brightly colored piles heaped everywhere and Twolegs squatting in the small space between. Countless scents bathed his nose, strong and startling.

“Here!” Graypool hissed from the next pelt-den.

“I thought I told you to stay close!” He darted over to her and sniffed the edge of the den. Hope flared in his belly. Willowbreeze! Her scent was thickly laced with fear, but it was fresh.

Suddenly a Twoleg moved in the den, its shadow engulfing them as it swept over the grass. Crookedjaw froze, feeling Graypool trembling against him. Then the shadow swooped away as the Twoleg settled down.

“We’ve got to go in there,” Graypool whispered shakily.

“Yes.” Crookedjaw poked his head under the stretched pelt and peered inside. It was more chaotic than the last den, the colorful piles bigger and brighter. Good. They’d be able to hide easily. He squeezed under the pelt and crouched behind a heap of Twoleg clutter. Graypool slid in after him. Her breath was fast, her hackles high.

“I won’t let them catch you,” Crookedjaw promised. He nosed his way around the edge of the den, squeezing through the narrow channel between the clutter and the den wall. The Twolegs were chattering and hooting, crouched around something in the middle of the den. Crookedjaw stretched up and peered over the nearest pile, his ears flat, eyes wide.

The Twolegs were dangling a thread into a square brown nest. Familiar pale tabby paws flapped frantically at the thread, trying to catch it as the Twolegs twitched it and pulled it out of reach.

“I can see her!” Crookedjaw dropped down and whispered in Graypool’s ear. “They’ve got her in some sort of trap and they’re teasing her.”

Graypool flexed her claws. “Is she okay?”

“I think she’s playing along,” Crookedjaw guessed.

Graypool opened her mouth. “I don’t smell blood.”

“They haven’t harmed her, then.” Crookedjaw felt a rush of relief. “Now we have to wait.”

“Here?”

Crookedjaw nodded. Now that he had Willowbreeze in sight, he didn’t want to lose her again. He flattened his belly against the floor. Graypool settled beside him.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised her.

She swallowed and nodded.

Crookedjaw began to grow stiff as the Twolegs played with Willowbreeze. He glanced over the pile again and again, itching with frustration, until suddenly the Twolegs started moving clumsily around the den, rummaging in the muddled pelts that were scattered on the floor.

Crookedjaw tensed. “Look out!” Twoleg paws plunged into the heap they were sheltering behind. He ducked under the edge, out into the field, dragging Graypool after him. “That was close!”

They crouched in the grass. The earthy scent of it soothed Crookedjaw’s jangled nerves. The light disappeared from the pelt-den. Murmuring and rustling, the Twolegs gradually settled down.

“Can we go back in?” Graypool’s round eyes reflected the moon.

“Let’s wait a bit longer,” Crookedjaw whispered. “Until they’re asleep.”

On the other side of the willow trees, the river glided past, rolling pebbles along the shore, and an owl screeched far away. One by one, the pelt-dens grew dark and silent.

“Now.” Crookedjaw slid under the stretched pelt once more. Ears pricked, he listened for movement. The Twolegs were still, lying under pelts at the far side of the den. He sensed rather than saw Graypool beside him as he crept over a heap of pelts and padded across the den. He could just make out the brown trap near the Twolegs’ hind paws. Fur swished inside it. Claws scrabbled quietly against its walls.

“She’s trying to get out.” Crookedjaw darted toward it, hissing. “We’re here, Willowbreeze. We’ve come to get you.”

A low purr of relief sounded inside the box. “I can’t get the flaps open at the top.”

Crookedjaw reached up and saw the top of the trap was folded, flap over flap. He tugged at one, but it wouldn’t shift.

“Let me help.” Graypool stretched up beside him and hooked her claws under a flap. Together they tugged, but the strange hard substance wouldn’t give.

“Push!” Crookedjaw hissed to Willowbreeze.

“I am!” she snapped back.

“Together!” Crookedjaw gave a fierce heave.

The trap rocked wildly and tumbled over on to its side. Graypool squawked as it fell on top of her. The Twolegs sat up, yelping, as Graypool struggled to escape. Crookedjaw whipped his head around. The Twolegs were flailing in the dark. They hadn’t spotted the extra cats yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Panic surging inside him, Crookedjaw turned back to the trap. A gap had opened between the flaps. Willowbreeze’s paws were stretching through.

“Pull!” he yowled to Graypool. He didn’t care if the Twolegs heard. They were thrashing around in their pelts, slapping the darkness with lumbering paws. As one brushed Crookedjaw’s tail, he yanked desperately at the trap. It gave way and Willowbreeze shot out like a rabbit from a foxhole.

A light flashed over them. Crookedjaw caught the full glare and staggered, blinded. The Twolegs screeched.

“This way!” Graypool pushed him forward.

Crookedjaw hurtled headlong into a heap of pelts, his paws tangling with StarClan knew what. Terror clawed at him as he struggled free. Blurred shapes moved around him as he adjusted to the light. Willowbreeze was disappearing over the wall of pelts with Graypool on her tail. Crookedjaw shot after them, Twolegs shrieking behind him. He dived under the stretched pelt and out into the field.

Willowbreeze was standing in the grass staring at him. “That was close!”

Graypool grabbed her scruff and dragged her forward. “Run, you fish-brain!”

They pelted away through the dewy grass. Crookedjaw glanced over his shoulder. Twolegs were bursting out of the dens all over the meadow, flashing lights and howling. Crookedjaw stretched his claws and dug them deeper with every stride, racing after his Clanmates with the blood roaring in his ears.