Crookedstar’s Promise

Chapter 35

Icy rain dripped through the roof of the den. Crookedjaw shivered. His nest was damp.

Beside him, Willowbreeze rolled over and stretched. “Is it leaking again?” A large drop thudded on to her belly. She jumped to her paws, ears flicking. “When will this rain end?” she snapped. Cold leaf-bare squalls had been battering the camp for days.

Crookedjaw licked her cheek. “I’ll ask Brambleberry to have a word with StarClan.” He heaved himself to his paws, yawning.

“Very funny!” Willowbreeze called as he squeezed out of the den.

The dawn was dull, the sky gray as a squirrel’s pelt. Petaldust, Leopardfur, and Sedgecreek were outside, stuffing the nursery walls and roof with leaves to keep out the weather. Their pelts were spiked with rain, their ears flat against the wind.

Hailstar stood in the clearing, staring at the river.

Crookedjaw stopped beside him. “Is it any higher?”

Water was already lapping over the shore beside the reed bed. Dawnkit and Mallowkit had been forbidden to go near the river. A swell might sweep through the reed bed at any moment and wash away an unsuspecting kit.

“The banks are holding,” Hailstar murmured. “But we need to keep checking.”

Oakheart peered from his den, then darted out to join them. “There’s not a dry spot in camp.” He eyed the river. “Looks higher to me.”

Beyond the barrier of reeds the water swirled, brown and fast. It was too dangerous for fishing.

“Should we move Softwing and Graypool up to the elders’ den?” Oakheart suggested.

Hailstar glanced at the nursery. “Not yet.”

Softwing’s kits, Dawnkit and Mallowkit, were peering out of the entrance, blinking at the rain. Three moons old, they looked more like ’paws every day.

“How’s Graypool?” Hailstar meowed.

Crookedjaw shook his head. “Still sick.”

Graypool had recently moved from her den to the nursery, expecting Rippleclaw’s kits. Brambleberry had been treating her nausea for days but the queen had little appetite.

“We’ll need to move them if the water comes any higher,” Crookedjaw advised.

“I’ve got an idea.” Oakheart tugged a reed from the apprentices’ den and stuck it into the muddy earth, marking where the water had reached. “Now we’ll be able to see how quickly it’s rising.” He sat back on his haunches. “I’ll check it regularly and let you know if it starts moving more quickly.”

“Clever plan.” Crookedjaw shook out his pelt, pleased that his brother was back to normal. Two moons ago, he’d wondered what was making the tawny warrior so distracted and anxious, and if it’d been Bluefur after all. But Oakheart was his old self now, focused on warrior duties and training the new apprentices, and Crookedjaw had pushed away his worries.

Mudfur trotted toward the elders’ den with a bundle of leaves in his jaws.

Crookedjaw hailed him. “Are those for Birdsong?” The old she-cat had been coughing for days.

Mudfur nodded. Crookedjaw hurried after him. As they reached the den, Crookedjaw waited for Mudfur to squeeze inside, then followed.

“Brambleberry.” He greeted the medicine cat crouching beside Birdsong. “How is she?”

Birdsong scowled through the shadows. “She’s still got her hearing and a tongue in her head.”

Tanglewhisker rolled his eyes. “She’s definitely got a tongue in her head,” he muttered. “When Troutclaw joined StarClan I thought I’d get some peace.”

Crookedjaw picked his way past the two empty nests beside the entrance. They still carried the very faint scents of Shellheart and Troutclaw. He settled down beside the elderly tabby-and-white she-cat.

Brambleberry was shredding some herbs on the dark earthen floor. “This nest is damp,” she hissed. “Everything’s damp.”

Birdsong started coughing. Tanglewhisker flattened his ears. “If she’s not talking then she’s giving me earache with her coughing!”

Birdsong swallowed painfully. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” she rasped.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Brambleberry finished ripping up the herbs and thrust them under the old she-cat’s nose. “Eat these. They’ll soothe your throat.” She glanced up at Crookedjaw. “I’ve sent Loudbelly, Frogleap, and Skyheart to look for dry moss, but StarClan knows where they’ll find any.”

Mudfur tipped his head. “Perhaps ThunderClan would give us some,” he suggested. “There are plenty of sheltered spots in the forest and they owe us for giving them Sunningrocks.”

Tanglewhisker snorted. “We can’t ask ThunderClan for anything! They already think we’re weak. And if this damp gets into all our bones, we won’t be able to fight off a minnow, let alone those mangy warriors.”

Birdsong munched her herbs. “When I was younger, we used to hunt in the big nest by the Twoleg meadow.”

Crookedjaw looked anxiously at Brambleberry. The old cat was rambling. Was it a sign that she was getting a fever?

“Before there were so many dogs.” Birdsong’s eyes misted as she went on. “There was a black-and-white mutt.” She purred at Tanglewhisker. “Do you remember it? The scrappy one, always barking. It attacked me once?”

“I remember.” Tanglewhisker’s whiskers twitched. “It looked very surprised when you turned and swiped it on the muzzle.”

“It kept its distance the next time we went hunting there!” There was amusement in Birdsong’s wheezy mew.

Tanglewhisker tucked his paws tighter under him and fluffed out his damp fur. “What made you think about the Twoleg nest? Do you want to go and hunt mice?”

“No, frog-brain!” She flicked her tail at him. “The Twolegs used to store dry grass there. That would keep our nests dry. No use putting in more moss; it just soaks up the wet from the ground.”

Tanglewhisker’s eyes gleamed. “Of course!”

Brambleberry was on her paws. “Do you think you could fetch some?” She stared hopefully at Crookedjaw. “Birdsong’s cough won’t get any better so long as she’s sleeping in a damp nest.”

“Of course.” Excitement fizzed in his paws. Perhaps Birdsong’s mind wasn’t so addled after all. It was a brilliant idea. “I’ll go ask Hailstar.” He squeezed out of the den and hurried down the slope.

Hailstar was crouching beneath the willow. He stood up to greet Crookedjaw. “You look cheerful.”

“Birdsong’s been telling me about a Twoleg nest where dry grass is stored.”

“The barn!” Hailstar lifted his tail. “Of course. She took me hunting there when I was just a ’paw.”

A barn?

Crookedjaw instantly pictured Fleck’s home. He hadn’t thought of his old friend in moons. “Where is it?” The old warriors obviously weren’t talking about Fleck and Mitzi’s barn, which was much too far for regular hunting patrols.

“Beyond the dog fence,” Hailstar told him. “Past the field there’s a huge nest. No Twolegs in it, just dry grass and mice.” He lifted his muzzle. Even in the cold rain, his pelt sodden, he looked as strong as a warrior half his age. “Petaldust, Sedgecreek, Leopardfur!” He called to the three cats weaving leaves into the nursery walls. “You can finish that later. We have a special mission.”

Oakheart, guarding his reed, looked up. “What is it?”

Crookedjaw flicked the rain from his tail. “We’re going to fetch dry bedding.”

“Where from?” Petaldust dropped her bundle of leaves and raced across the clearing. Sedgecreek leaped down from the nursery roof and followed, Leopardfur on her tail.

“There’s a barn just past the dog fence,” Hailstar explained, his eyes shining. “I used to hunt there when I was a ’paw. I haven’t been there for years.”

Crookedjaw paced around the RiverClan leader. “We can catch some mice while we’re there.”

Sunfish darted out of her nest, ears pricking. “Did someone say hunting?”

“Hunting?” Softwing peered from the nursery. “Isn’t the river too fast?”

“We’re hunting mice,” Hailstar told her.

“I want to come!” Dawnkit tumbled out of the nursery and raced clear of her mother’s front paws. Her ginger-and-white fur was drenched in an instant.

“Dawnkit!” Softwing called crossly.

“How come she’s allowed out and I’m not?” Mallowkit squeaked indignantly from between her mother’s paws.

Hailstar headed for the gap in the reeds. “We’d better get going before we have the whole Clan trailing after us.”

Crookedjaw raced after him with Petaldust, Leopardfur, and Sedgecreek pounding at his heels. Rain rattled the beech copse and splattered on to the marsh. Crookedjaw screwed up his eyes against the downpour, relieved when he spotted the dog fence looming ahead of them. “Wait!” He signaled the patrol back with a flick of his tail while he sniffed along the bottom of the fence. “No fresh dog-scent,” he called back to his Clanmates. “It must hate rain more than we do.”

He slid under the fence. The sour tang of mud and wet grass bathed his tongue as the patrol crept past a horse, munching grass at the edge of the field. Crookedjaw felt exposed in the short grass and quickened the pace. Peering through the rain he saw a huge nest at the far side of the field. It rose squarely from behind a low gray wall, its black wooden sides dark and forbidding against the rain-filled sky. “Is that it?” he asked Hailstar.

Hailstar nodded. Crookedjaw darted forward, racing for the shelter of the low wall. As the patrol caught up, Petaldust tasted the air. “No fresh scents,” she reported.

Leopardfur sniffed. “I can’t taste anything but rain.”

“Wait there.” Hailstar jumped onto the wall and, keeping low, scanned the open space on the other side.

Crookedjaw sprang up beside him. Bare cream stone stretched from the wall to the barn, just like the yard at Fleck’s farm. “All clear?”

Hailstar nodded. Crookedjaw glanced down at Petaldust. “Come on.”

Sedgecreek was first over the wall.

“Be careful,” Crookedjaw whispered as she dropped to the ground below him. He hopped down after her, checking the yard warily as Hailstar led them over the knobbly stone. There was a small ragged hole in the bottom of the huge wooden barrier that blocked the entrance to the barn.

Hailstar slid through first. “All clear,” he whispered.

Leopardfur followed, Sedgecreek and Petaldust on his tail. Crookedjaw ducked in after them. Inside, the roof soared as high as Silverpelt. Dim light seeped in through slits in the walls and great shadows stretched across the smooth stone floor. Looming piles of golden dry grass were stacked at the edges.

“We’ll collect grass first,” Hailstar decided. “Then hunt.” He waved Crookedjaw and Sedgecreek toward one bundle and led Petaldust and Leopardfur toward another.

“It smells dusty,” Sedgecreek whispered. She gazed up at the far roof, her fur pricking along her spine. Then she sneezed.

Crookedjaw’s whiskers twitched. “Come on.” He led her to one of the huge grass bundles. Reaching up, he ripped out a clawful and rolled it around his paws before dropping it on the floor. Sedgecreek copied him and they worked quietly until they’d made a pile of fat, prickly bundles, smelling strongly of sunshine and dried leaves.

Crookedjaw dusted grass seed from his ears with a paw and peered into the shadows at the back of the barn. His pelt tingled. The smell of grass and mouse was stirring old memories. He dropped into a crouch. “Follow me,” he hissed to Sedgecreek.

Together they stalked past Hailstar, Petaldust, and Leopardfur, who were still busy bundling dried grass, and slipped into the shadows. Crookedjaw stilled Sedgecreek with a flick of his tail and pricked his ears. Tiny feet were scrabbling at the bottom of the wall. He nodded toward the sound but Sedgecreek was already creeping across the stones, her tail lifted a whisker off the ground, her belly taut.

Crookedjaw selected a wider angle of approach, coming in from the side as Sedgecreek closed in on her prey. Suddenly she pounced, springing forward with her forepaws outstretched. She missed—but the plump brown mouse fled straight toward Crookedjaw. He scooped it up as it shot past and gave it a quick killing bite.

“Very good.” Hailstar was sitting back on his haunches, with grass hanging from his paws. He rolled a final bundle and padded across the barn.

Sedgecreek was already crouching down, ready for her next catch.

Hailstar pricked his ears. “A big one!” His eyes widened with delight and he dropped down beside her.

Crookedjaw tasted the air.

He stiffened. That wasn’t mouse. That was rat! Fleck had taught him to be wary of rat-scent. One rat was okay. A swarm could be deadly. “Watch out!”

As he yowled a warning, four huge rats raced squealing from the shadows. Sedgecreek squawked with surprise. “They’re attacking us!” She hopped into the air as a rat hurtled at her, but it grabbed her hind paw with its teeth and held on.

Crookedjaw pounced squarely on the rat’s back, killing it with a bite to its neck. “Are you okay?”

Sedgecreek whimpered with pain as blood welled thick and scarlet from her hind paw. Leopardfur raced over to help. She clawed another rat and sent it squealing away.

“There’s more!” Sedgecreek gasped.

Countless rats were streaming from the side of the barn. Their eyes burned and their sharp teeth glinted in the half-light.

“Get help!” Crookedjaw yowled at Petaldust.

“But—” Petaldust began to argue.

“Now!”

As the tortoiseshell warrior tore out of the barn, Crookedjaw braced himself. Trapped by her wounded hind leg, Sedgecreek was batting at the flood of rats with her front paws. Hailstar lunged wildly, rats on every side of him. Leopardfur shrieked as one bit her tail. She turned and sunk her teeth into its neck. Instantly another rat leaped on her back. “Help!”

Crookedjaw darted forward and hooked it off. Leopardfur wailed as it ripped out fur.

“Hailstar!” Sedgecreek’s screech made Crookedjaw whirl around.

Two rats were attacking the RiverClan leader, one clinging to his spine, the other dragging at his hind legs with its teeth. Crookedjaw hauled off the biggest rat and flung it to the edge of the barn.

“Wait!” A snarl came from the shadows.

Mapleshade! Crookedjaw recoiled. “What are you doing here?” he growled.

“This is your chance.” Her voice rang inside his head. “Leave him to the rats. You can be the leader of RiverClan today, if you have the courage!”

“No!” Crookedjaw lunged at the rat clinging on to Hailstar’s pelt and clawed it away from the RiverClan leader. “I won’t let you kill my leader!” Crookedjaw hooked another rat and slapped it to the floor.

Mapleshade hissed. “But this is your destiny!”

Crookedjaw growled under his breath. “I decide my destiny, Mapleshade. Not you!” As Hailstar staggered to his paws, Crookedjaw knocked away another rat. Behind him, Sedgecreek had made it to her feet, leaning on Leopardfur. Crookedjaw glanced at the injured she-cat. She looked as if she could stand on her own for a short while.

It was too dangerous to race for the entrance. The moment they stopped fighting, the rats would overwhelm them. Their only hope was to work together.

“Warriors! Tail-to-tail!” he ordered.

The patrol backed toward one another and pressed their spines together. Rearing up on their hind paws and swiping with their front legs, they met the rats with a circle of flashing claws. Hailstar was gasping for breath, but he jabbed mercilessly at the flood of brown creatures. Leopardfur yowled in triumph at each rat she sent flying. Sedgecreek slammed her paws down again and again on writhing, squealing bodies. Crookedjaw’s nose and mouth filled with the musky tang of blood. Panic started to rise in his chest. Sedgecreek was starting to wobble on her injured leg, and Leopardfur sagged against his flank. They couldn’t hold out much longer. “Try and get to the entrance!” he yowled. As they edged back toward the hole, a pelt flashed at the corner of Crookedjaw’s vision.

“I’ve brought help!” Petaldust yelled across the barn.

Rippleclaw and Timberfur streaked toward them. Sunfish, Blackclaw, and Owlfur followed. They dived on to the sea of rats, hooking them with their claws and hurling them across the barn. Timberfur cracked a spine in his jaws. Rippleclaw grabbed a rat with each forepaw and smashed them both against the hard stone floor. The rats scattered, shrieking, to the edge of the barn and flowed back into the shadows and disappeared.

Crookedjaw dropped on to all fours. Leopardfur crouched beside him. She was panting, her pelt streaked red, but her eyes were bright. “We did it!” she gasped.

Crookedjaw lapped blood from between her ears. “Yes, we did.”

A weak groan sounded beside them.

“Sedgecreek!” Crookedjaw ran to her side and searched her glittering eyes. “How badly are you hurt?”

She groaned. Paws pounded across stone and a white pelt knocked Crookedjaw away. “Give me room!” Brambleberry snapped. The medicine cat crouched beside Sedgecreek. “Fetch cobwebs!” she ordered. Rippleclaw and Timberfur streaked away and leaped onto the huge piles of grass, stretching up to snatch cobwebs from the wall behind.

“Hailstar!” Owlfur’s shocked mew made Crookedjaw freeze.

Hailstar? Horror dropped like a stone in his belly. The RiverClan leader was lying stretched out on the stone floor. Blood pulsed from his throat.

“Brambleberry!” Crookedjaw yowled.

“Hold on!” she called back. “Sedgecreek’s bleeding badly.”

Crookedjaw dropped down beside Hailstar and felt for the wound in his neck. He found the tear in the skin and pressed his paw against it, desperately trying to stop the blood. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I let you down.”

“No, you didn’t.” Hailstar drew in a rattling breath. “You fought as bravely as I expected. Now you must lead the patrol home safely.”

“Get away from him!”

Crookedjaw gasped as he felt Mapleshade charge into his flank and knock him away from Hailstar. The Dark Forest warrior’s pelt was little more than a faint gleam in the half-light, but her eyes burned fierce and yellow.

“No!” Crookedjaw shoved past her and raced back to Hailstar, reaching again for the wound. No blood pulsed beneath his paw. It still seeped out, but no life force throbbed behind it. Hailstar’s head had rolled to one side and his eyes were glassy and dull. Crookedjaw felt something snap inside his heart.

“Brambleberry,” Crookedjaw mewed hoarsely. “He’s dead.”

Collapsing to the cold earth floor, Crookedjaw rested his head on Hailstar’s matted pelt and closed his eyes.