Crookedstar’s Promise

Chapter 4

Stormkit blinked at his mother. “Are you leaving already?”

“I’ve got to,” Rainflower meowed, glancing up at the sky.

Why won’t she look at me?

“There’s a lot of hunting to do now the fish are back,” she went on.

Oakkit rested his paws on the edge of Stormkit’s nest. “I’ll stay,” he promised.

Stormkit tried to catch Rainflower’s eye. “I wanted to tell you about the moth I caught last night.”

Confined to the medicine den for a moon, he’d had little chance to hunt. It’d been pure luck the moth had flitted into Brambleberry’s den; he’d snatched it out of the air with a single paw.

Oakkit shuffled closer. “You can tell me about the moth.”

“It was huge.” Stormkit leaned toward his mother, but Rainflower was already halfway to the entrance.

“I promised Rippleclaw I’d join his patrol,” she called.

“Rainflower!” Brambleberry backed out of the small hollow in the sedge wall where she stored her herbs. Strange green scents clung to her fur, and there were fragments of leaf on her muzzle where she’d been sorting through her supplies.

Rainflower halted. “Yes?”

“Stormkit can go back to the nursery today,” Brambleberry told her.

“Really?” Oakkit tumbled into Stormkit’s nest and started pummeling him playfully with his hind paws. “That’s great! Come on, lazybones!”

“So he’s better?” Rainflower’s eyes darkened. She glanced at Stormkit. “You can’t do any more for him?”

Oakkit froze, mid-pummel.

“He’s got all his ears and whiskers.” Stormkit heard sharpness in the medicine cat’s mew. “He can play and practice hunting like any other kit. What more do you want?”

Rainflower turned away and ducked through the entrance. “Fine. Send him back to the nursery then,” she called as the tip of her tail disappeared.

Stormkit tilted his head on one side. “Is Rainflower okay?”

“She’s just tired from all the hunting,” Oakkit mewed.

Brambleberry flexed her claws. “Tired,” she echoed drily.

Oakkit flicked Stormkit’s ear with his tail. “Come on!” He leaped out of the soft moss nest. “You’ve been lying around too long. We need to get you fit. We’ll be apprentices in less than two moons.”

“I’m afraid not.” Brambleberry crossed the den.

Stormkit’s heart lurched. “What do you mean?”

Her blue gaze was clear. “You’ll have to wait a while

to become a ’paw, little one.”

Stormkit leaped out of his nest. “Why?” His paws trembled beneath him.

“You broke your jaw,” Brambleberry reminded him.

“But it’s healed,” Stormkit told her. He opened and closed his mouth to show her. It still felt stiff and lopsided, and it ached if he lay on it during the night, but he knew the bones had mended because the pain wasn’t so sharp it made him feel sick.

“You hardly ate for a half-moon, and even now you find it hard.” Brambleberry’s gaze flicked along Stormkit’s flank. “You need to fill out a bit before you start your apprentice training.”

“It’ll be okay,” Oakkit mewed. “I bet you catch up to me even if you start your training late.” He nudged Stormkit with his shoulder.

Stormkit almost fell over. When did Oakkit grow so much? He was strong and weighty, more like a ’paw than a kit. Stormkit felt tiny beside him, with hollow flanks and thin legs. He sat down. Was this going to stop him from becoming a warrior? What about Clan leader? Could he still be Clan leader if he was apprenticed late?

Brambleberry touched his head with her muzzle. “Oakkit’s right,” she murmured. “You’ll grow in no time. Just eat well and get some exercise. StarClan is watching over you. There’s no reason why you won’t be as big as Shellheart by next newleaf.”

StarClan’s watching over me. Stormkit dug his claws into the soft ground. “I’m going to get big and strong and be the best apprentice ever.”

Oakkit flicked his tail toward the tunnel. “Come on! Everyone wants to see you.” He bounded away and Stormkit followed, suddenly excited to be out in the camp again.

“Thanks, Brambleberry,” he called over his shoulder.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” Brambleberry promised. “Make sure you eat well and rest whenever you get tired.”

Stormkit burst out into the clearing, dazzled by the sunshine and surprised by the heat. The river chattered beyond the reed bed and wind swished the rushes. New warrior dens had been woven around the fallen tree. The apprentices’ den had grown a warm coating of moss, and the nursery, tucked away in the sedge wall, looked as cozy as ever. Hailstar’s den had been rebuilt, its willow stems bright and freshly woven among the roots of the ancient willow. Beetlekit, Volekit, and Petalkit were chasing a ball of moss in the clearing. Mudfur was lying in the shade with Cedarpelt. Shellheart was sharing fresh-kill with Hailstar, Tanglewhisker, and Birdsong at the top of the slope while Softpaw hauled stale moss from their den.

“Are you almost finished, Softpaw?” Fallowtail, her mentor, was calling from the camp entrance. “I want to teach you a new battle move.”

“Won’t be long,” Softpaw answered.

Stormkit breathed deep and smelled the mouthwatering tang of newly caught fish. “Are you hungry?” he asked Oakkit.

“I ate when the dawn patrol got back, but there’s fresh-kill left if you want some.” He flicked his tail toward the pile of fat trout lying beside the reed bed. “Let me get you one.” Oakkit raced away.

“Stormkit!” Mudfur’s rumbling mew sounded across the clearing. The warrior clambered to his paws and padded across the clearing. “It’s good to see you up and about.”

Volekit caught the moss ball Petalkit had just tossed and turned to stare at them. “Stormkit!” He left the ball and came charging across the clearing, Beetlekit and Petalkit on his tail. They dived around Mudfur, nearly tripping over the brown tom’s feet, before skidding to a halt in front of Stormkit.

Volekit gasped. “H-how are you?”

Petalkit pushed past her brother. “We kept begging to visit you but Rainflower wouldn’t let us.” Her eyes glittered. “Would she, Mudfur?” She looked up anxiously at the brown warrior.

Why does she sound weird?

Mudfur sat down behind the kits. “She was worried you were too sick.”

Stormkit frowned. He’d begged Rainflower for visitors. Had he really been too sick to see anyone? He’d been in pain, but after half a moon he’d been as bored and frustrated as a turtle up a tree.

Beetlekit was staring at him. “You look funny.”

“Hush, Beetlekit.” Echomist came trotting across the clearing. “He looks very well considering what he’s been through.” She licked Stormkit between the ears. “I’m so pleased you’re out of the medicine den,” she purred. “The nursery’s been quiet without you.” She glanced at Volekit. “Well, almost quiet.”

Volekit swallowed. “We’ve—er—made a training corner in the nursery.” He looked away. “You’ll love it. We’ve got bulrushes and moss to help us practice.”

“He can see it later.” Echomist silenced her kit. “Right now he needs sunshine and food.” She glanced at Stormkit. “And plenty of it.”

Even Echomist sounded strange.

Stormkit frowned. “Oakkit’s getting me some fresh-kill,” he told her.

“Stormkit!” Birdsong’s mew sounded from the top of the bank.

“Is that Stormkit out of the medicine den?” Tanglewhisker appeared beside Birdsong, whose tail curled over her back.

Stormkit looked past them to see his father but Shellheart was already on his paws and bounding down the slope. “Stormkit!” He nudged Stormkit’s cheek with his muzzle as though he hadn’t seen his kit in moons.

Stormkit wriggled away. “You just saw me yesterday!”

“It’s just good to see you out of the medicine den at last! You have lots to catch up on. I’ve been giving Oakkit some training to get him ready for his apprenticeship. You need to get to the same level as fast as you can.”

Stormkit purred. He glanced across the clearing wondering if Oakkit had found him a fish yet. His belly was growling.

He stiffened.

Rippleclaw was staring at him from underneath the ancient willow. The silver-and-black warrior looked away as Stormkit caught his gaze.

The whole Clan was acting odd.

Confused, Stormkit turned back to the friendly faces crowding around him. Everyone was making a fuss, saying how pleased they were to see him, how much they’d missed him, but there was something peculiar about the way they were looking at him. Because they weren’t actually looking at him. Stormkit realized with a jolt that, despite the purrs and kind words, none of them was looking directly at his face. A cold chill ran through him.

He shouldered his way past Echomist and Mudfur and headed for the reed bed.

“Stormkit?” Oakkit dropped the fish he was carrying as Stormkit dashed past him.

Stormkit stopped at the shore, by a patch of clear water, and stared down.

“Stormkit!”

He hardly heard Oakkit’s mew. He was staring at the strange cat reflected in the water. That wasn’t his face! This cat’s jaw was twisted from just below his ear, hardly visible beneath one cheek, sunken horribly beneath the top lip. His nose was stretched sideways and up, and his tongue poked out at one side, lolling between his teeth like a fat pink worm.

“What happened to me?” he whispered.

Oakkit pressed close to him. “You’re lucky to be alive, that’s what,” he mewed fiercely. He stroked Stormkit’s spine with his tail. “Brambleberry thought you’d die of shock and then infection. She fought really hard to keep you alive. And Shellheart sat with you night after night.”

“What about Rainflower?” Was this why his mother had hardly visited him? Because he was so horrible to look at?

“Rainflower was upset,” Oakkit told him.

Stormkit felt a flood of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“That I hurt Rainflower so much.”

“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault.” Oakkit’s voice sounded as if it was stuck in his throat. “Come on.” He sat up and nudged Stormkit away from the water’s edge with his nose. “We’re supposed to be fattening you up!”

Stormkit let his brother guide him toward the fish he’d dropped. He felt weak.

“Eat,” Oakkit ordered, stopping beside the fish.

Stormkit crouched down and took a mouthful. He could hardly taste it. All he could think about was how strange it felt when his tongue kept trying to slide out of the side of his mouth. How oddly he had to move his jaws to chew. In the medicine den, it had seemed normal. It’s just part of your recovery, Brambleberry had told him as he clumsily munched the fish she’d brought him. But he was better now. Back among his Clanmates. Why was eating still so difficult? He must look weird, trying to keep the food from dribbling from the twisted side of his mouth. He glanced up, wondering who was watching.

“I can’t do it,” he whispered.

“Yes, you can.” Oakkit picked up the fish and carried it to a shadowy spot behind a jutting branch of the fallen tree. “Come over here.” He beckoned to Stormkit with his tail. “It’s quiet. You can eat in peace.” Oakkit pushed the fish toward Stormkit and padded back to the clearing.

Stormkit’s belly rumbled as if to remind him that he was still hungry. Hidden behind the fallen tree he took another bite of fish. He glanced up to see if anyone was watching. But Oakkit had found him the most private spot in the camp. No one could see him here. Relieved and grateful, Stormkit gulped down the fresh-kill. Pain raked along his jaw, but he kept chewing. At last, his belly full, he sat up. A small pile of half-chewed fish sat by his paws where it had dribbled from his mouth. Stormkit quickly dug a hole in the soft earth and buried it. He jumped, hot with embarrassment, as Oakkit appeared around the end of the branch.

“Are you done?”

Stormkit nodded.

“Come and see the training corner we made in the nursery.”

Stormkit padded after his brother and squeezed into the nursery. “Wow!” He stared in delight at the far end of the den. The nests had been pushed back and moss laid on the floor.

Oakkit bounded past him and landed on the moss. “This is so we can fall without hurting ourselves.”

“What are those?” Stormkit glanced up at the fat brown bulrush heads sticking out high up the nursery wall.

“Watch!” Oakkit crouched, his head tipped back as he focused on the bulrushes. Then he leaped. Mid-leap he reached out both forepaws and grasped a thick brown rush, then fell back, landing deftly on his hind legs before wrestling it to the ground.

“That’s great!” Stormkit felt a surge of excitement. “Can I try?”

“Of course,” Oakkit mewed. “That’s what it’s for. Me and Volekit climb up and thread in fresh bulrushes every morning. It’s to practice hunting skills. By the time we start training we’ll be able to hit a mouse from three tail-lengths away.”

The den rustled as Volekit, Beetlekit, and Petalkit fought to squeeze in.

“Hey! I was first!” Beetlekit complained as Petalkit climbed over him and scampered across the nests to the training corner.

“Have you tried it yet, Stormkit?” Volekit demanded. He crouched down, wiggled his hindquarters, then flung himself at the wall and snatched a bulrush head.

Stormkit pressed his belly to the floor and looked up. A fat bulrush was dangling teasingly over his head. He narrowed his eyes and leaped. Stretching out his paws, he reached for the long fuzzy head. His paws clapped together, grabbing thin air, and he fell back on to the moss panting. “Frog dung!”

“You nearly had it,” Petalkit mewed encouragingly.

Stormkit lashed his tail. “Nearly’s not good enough.”

The nest behind him rustled. Echomist squeezed into the nursery, her soft gaze on Stormkit. “It’s good to have you back.”

Petalkit purred. “He’s trying the training corner,” she mewed. “He can jump pretty high already.”

Volekit stared thoughtfully at the wall. “We’re going to have to add more bulrushes.”

The den trembled. “You’re not going to clog up that corner with more mess, are you?” Rainflower pushed her way in and sat down. She licked her paw and ran it over her pale gray face. “Can’t you play outside like normal kits?”

“Okay.” Oakkit nudged Stormkit toward the entrance. “Come on,” he called to the others. “Let’s play moss-ball.”

Beetlekit bounded across the den. “I’m catcher!” he mewed.

“You were catcher last time!” Petalkit scrambled after him.

As his denmates crowded past him, Stormkit stumbled over a pile of woven reeds at the edge of the den. “What’s this?” It looked like a nest. Had a new queen moved to the nursery?

Rainflower paused mid-lick. “That’s your nest,” she meowed.

“My nest?” Wouldn’t he be sleeping in her nest with Oakkit, like before?

“You’ll need your own space,” Rainflower told him. “Your jaw must be sore. You’ll probably fidget in your sleep. I don’t want Oakkit disturbed just because you’re injured.”

Stormkit blinked at his mother. “It doesn’t hurt now,” he mewed. “I won’t fidget, I promise.”

“Still, it’s better if you have your own space.” Rainflower returned to her washing.

Volekit nudged Stormkit’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go and play.”

Stormkit stared at his mother. Was she angry because he’d worried her by being so ill?

Shellheart poked his head through the entrance. “How are you settling in?”

“I’ve got my own nest,” Stormkit mumbled.

Shellheart narrowed his eyes. “Have you got your own nest, too, Oakkit?”

Oakkit stared at his paws.

“Rainflower.” Shellheart’s mew was more like a growl. “I’d like to speak with you outside.”

The fur along Rainflower’s spine bristled as she hopped out of the den.

“Come on, kits,” Echomist mewed cheerily. “How about another go at the training wall?”

“But we’re going outside to play.” Beetlekit’s mew was drowned by Shellheart’s angry snarl beyond the nursery wall.

“His own nest?”

“He has to grow up eventually,” Rainflower answered.

“But Oakkit can stay in your nest?” Shellheart hissed.

“Stormkit must be used to his own nest after so long in the medicine den.”

Shellheart snorted. “At least you’re still calling him Stormkit.”

“And I’ll keep calling him that till Hailstar changes his name formally.”

“So you’re still determined to rename him Crookedkit?”

Stormkit froze. Crookedkit?

“It will suit him.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel?”

“If he’d stayed in camp he’d never have had the accident.”

She does blame me!

Rainflower carried on. “Then he wouldn’t be the ugly mess he is now.” The icy coldness in his mother’s voice made Stormkit feel sick. “He’d still be my handsome young warrior.”

He began to tremble. Soft fur brushed beside him. Echomist pressed close as Shellheart growled at his mate.

“How do you think Stormkit must feel?”

“He’ll get used to it,” Rainflower retorted.

“To what?” Rage sharpened Shellheart’s mew. “His new name? Being scarred for life? Being rejected by his mother?”

“The accident wasn’t my fault! I shouldn’t have to deal with it,” Rainflower spat.

Stormkit’s chest tightened. A sob welled in his throat.

“She’s grieving,” Echomist murmured in his ear. “She doesn’t realize what she’s saying.”

Shellheart’s voice was little more than a whisper. “I never knew you could be so heartless, Rainflower,” he growled. “If you insist on Hailstar going ahead with the renaming ceremony then we are no longer mates. I will never share a den or a piece of fresh-kill with you again.”

“Very well.”

Stormkit couldn’t listen to any more. He jumped to his paws and rushed out of the den. “Please don’t argue! I don’t mind sleeping by myself or having a new name!” he wailed. But Rainflower was already crossing the clearing to Hailstar’s den and didn’t seem to hear him. Stormkit stared pleadingly at Shellheart. “Don’t argue because of me.”

“It’s not because of you.” Shellheart wrapped his tail around Stormkit. “It’s because of her.” He stared after Rainflower, anger flaring in his eyes.

Brambleberry was trotting toward them. “How’s the nursery?” Her cheerful mew faltered as she caught Shellheart’s gaze. She turned to see Rainflower disappear into Hailstar’s den. “She’s really going to do it?”

Shellheart nodded. Brambleberry closed her eyes for a moment, then blinked them open and stared at Stormkit. “The seasons change, Stormkit, but RiverClan never stops being RiverClan. Shellheart will always be brave and loyal, whether there is sun or snow on his pelt. And you will always have the heart of a warrior, no matter what your name is.” She touched him gently on the head with her muzzle.

The trailing moss at the entrance to Hailstar’s den quivered and Hailstar padded out. Rainflower slid out after him. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words,” the RiverClan leader meowed solemnly.

Brambleberry flicked her tail. “Perhaps I should change my name.” She began to walk toward Hailstar. “I could be called Swallowherb.” She purred at her own joke. “See?” She looked over her shoulder at Stormkit. “Because that’s what I do? I make cats swallow herbs.”

Stormkit padded numbly after her. He tried to purr but his throat was dry.

Brambleberry halted and looked down at him. “StarClan is watching over you,” she told him. Her blue eyes met his. “This is part of a destiny only they understand, but you must believe that they are guiding all of us, and that they care about you just as much as any cat in RiverClan.”

Stormkit blinked as the medicine cat turned and trotted away. He wanted to believe her, but why would StarClan let something so unfair happen to him?

Troutclaw, Birdsong, and Tanglewhisker headed down the slope as Echomist herded Volekit, Petalkit, and Beetlekit from the nursery.

“How can he change someone’s name before they’re an apprentice?” Volekit was protesting.

“Shhh!” Echomist hurried him on with a nudge of her nose.

Hailstar waited with Rainflower beside him while the Clan gathered at the edge of the clearing.

“What’s going on?” Shimmerpelt whispered.

Fallowtail shrugged. “No idea. It’s too soon for the kits to have their apprentice names.”

Softpaw lifted her chin. “Maybe we’re going to get our warrior names,” she hissed to Whitepaw. Whitepaw glanced questioningly at his mentor, but Timberfur was whispering something to Ottersplash, his eyes dark.

Stormkit’s heart quickened. He tried to catch Rainflower’s eye but she stared straight ahead.

“Stormkit, come here.” Hailstar’s mew was soft.

Stormkit padded, trembling, into the clearing. He looked blindly around. The familiar faces seemed strange, menacing, all of a sudden. Was this a bad dream?

“I have gathered the Clan to witness the giving of your new name. I’m sorry you have suffered so much. The whole Clan knows how brave you’ve been.” His mew was gentle with sympathy. “Your new name may describe your face, young kit, but it doesn’t describe your heart. I know you are as true and loyal as any warrior. Bear your name bravely as a kit and nobly when you become a warrior.”

Stormkit nodded.

“From this day forward, you shall be known as Crookedkit.”

Stormkit tried not to hear the murmur of shock that swept around the Clan. He stared past Hailstar, confusion clouding his thoughts.

But I was born in a storm. I’m Stormkit.

How could he ever be Stormstar now?

Suddenly he glimpsed an orange-and-white pelt in the shadow of the sedges. The cat from the river! Her pelt shimmered as though caught in a heat haze. He tasted the air and found only the familiar scents of his Clanmates. She must be a StarClan cat. StarClan is watching over you. Brambleberry’s words rang in his head. Had the orange-and-white cat been sent to remind him of their promise? Don’t worry, little one. He heard her words again. It’s not your time yet. You have a great destiny ahead of you.

“Crookedkit.” He murmured his new name. “I am Crookedkit.” He glanced around his Clanmates. No one met his gaze. Only the shimmering orange-and-white cat. Her amber eyes shone, unblinking, at him. She believes in me. With a rush of hope, Crookedkit lifted his chin.

“I am Crookedkit,” he repeated.