by Erin Hunter
“You wouldn’t understand,” she answered quickly. “Y-you have the chance to be a great warrior. . . .” She was searching for words. “Like all RiverClan cats. You just have to follow the right path.”
“And I’m not following it now?” He stared at her. But I’m training every day! And every night! I’m being taught by StarClan! “You don’t know anything!” he snapped. “If you did see an omen, you must have misread it! I am going to be a great warrior!”
He turned and stalked out of the den. He barged past Graypool, who was dragging a fish across the clearing, and raced away from the camp, hurtling blindly along the shore. Why did he bother training so hard for his Clan when they doubted him? He’d prove them wrong.
A moon passed and the days grew longer and warmer. The river had begun to teem with fresh prey and the Clan feasted in the rosy glow of the setting sun. Shimmerpelt and Piketooth were sharing tongues beside the reed bed, grooming each other’s fur on the back of their necks. Whitefang was tucking into a fat carp beside them while Cedarpelt lay beside Lakeshine, his tail wrapped protectively across her swollen belly. She was expecting his kits and had given up warrior duties and moved to the nursery.
Birdsong stretched. “This would be a perfect evening for warming my bones on Sunningrocks.” The old she-cat looked wistfully out over the reed bed.
Oakheart rolled on to his back. “You can have what’s left if you like.” He pushed the remains of his fish toward Crookedpaw.
“I’m not hungry.” Crookedpaw sat hunched, watching his Clanmates share tongues in the late-afternoon light.
Softwing was stripping flesh from a bony trout. She called to Brambleberry, who was padding from her den. “Do you want some?”
Fresh herb scent wafted around the medicine cat as she crossed the clearing. “Thanks.” She settled beside Softwing. “Let me wash this water-mint off my paws first.” She began nibbling at the green-tinged fur between her claws.
Crookedpaw scowled. Hailstar was lying beside Echomist, eyes half closed. Neither he nor Brambleberry had mentioned the omen again, but Crookedpaw guessed they were keeping an eye on him. He had to make them trust him. He had to prove he was loyal to RiverClan.
A dog barked in the distance. It was getting to be a familiar sound in the RiverClan camp. The dog lived on the farm beside the meadow where Twolegs came in greenleaf to live in little pelt dens, and it seemed to know that the cats were close by, almost within reach of its snapping jaws.
Crookedpaw’s whiskers twitched. “Are Willowpaw and Graypaw back from training?”
“Not yet.” Fallowtail padded to the entrance and peered through. “Do you think they’re okay?”
Shellheart, sitting beside his den, flipped over his carp. “They’re training by the beech copse.”
Oakheart sat up. “The dog won’t stray that far from its Twoleg nest.”
“Brightsky and Owlfur are with them.” Timberfur was sharing fresh-kill with Rippleclaw beneath the willow. “They’ll be fine.”
Crookedpaw scrambled to his paws. “Why don’t we chase the dog away?”
Hailstar sat up.
Crookedpaw padded across the clearing. “We could scare it.” He lashed his tail. “Shimmerpelt’s fast!” His mind was whirling. “So’s Softwing. They could lure it from Twolegplace into the marsh meadow. We’d be waiting for it. We’d give it a shock that it won’t forget in a hurry.”
The dirtplace tunnel rustled and Beetlenose padded out.
“Saving the whole Clan on your own?” he muttered as he passed Crookedpaw.
“Yeah,” Crookedpaw shot back. “What’ve you been doing?” He ignored Beetlenose’s growl. “I think it could work.”
“So do I.” Whitefang jumped to his paws.
Hailstar pushed away his fish and sat up. “Let’s do it now.”
“Now?” Cedarpelt’s pelt fluffed up.
“Now.” The RiverClan leader tasted the air. “Before dark.” He turned to Shimmerpelt. “Are you quick enough to lure the dog toward the attack line without being caught?”
Shimmerpelt nodded. Softwing sprang to her paws. “I am, too.”
“Good.” Hailstar glanced around his Clan. “I’ll head the attack patrol. Shellheart, you shadow Shimmerpelt and Softwing.”
Shellheart showed his teeth. “If the dog gets within a whisker of them, I’ll claw its eyes out.”
Hailstar nodded. “Cedarpelt, Whitefang, Rippleclaw, Beetlenose, Oakheart, Ottersplash, Rainflower, and Piketooth, you’ll join Crookedpaw in my patrol.”
Fallowtail stood up. “I want to come, too.”
“Fine.” Hailstar swished his tail as his Clanmates gathered by the entrance; then, with a nod, he pelted out of camp.
Crookedpaw’s heart was racing as they pounded along the track through the reeds. Hailstar led them up the slope and around the camp, doubling back toward the marsh meadow. They skirted the beech copse, which topped a hillock arching from the meadow like a pike’s spine. Brightsky was calling instructions to Graypaw, and Crookedpaw could just see Willowpaw’s ears as she peered over the top of the slope.
“Where are you going?” Her call faded behind them as they crossed the meadow, weaving between the clumps of marsh grass and sedge, their paws splashing over the boggy ground.
Crookedpaw felt Oakheart’s pelt brush his. “Nice plan, Crookedpaw,” he puffed, matching Crookedpaw paw step for paw step as they raced after Hailstar.
“I just hope it works.” Crookedpaw saw Hailstar pull up and swerved to a halt behind him. A Twoleg fence, separating two meadows, was a few tail-lengths away. Beyond it the dog’s fur flashed against the bright green grass as it darted from side to side, barking excitedly.
Hailstar weaved between Shimmerpelt and Softwing. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
Softwing flicked her tail. “Of course!”
Shimmerpelt nodded.
Shellheart padded around them. “I’ll run alongside, keeping up as much I can,” he promised.
Hailstar turned to Crookedpaw. “Have you thought about where the attack party should be?”
Beetlenose flexed his claws. “Why are you letting an apprentice tell warriors what to do?”
“It was his plan.” Hailstar silenced the young tom with a growl.
And if it works, I won’t be an apprentice for long. Crookedpaw pointed to a thicket of young willow trees behind them. “We could climb those. The leaves will hide us.”
“Hide in trees?” Beetlenose narrowed his eyes. “Do you think we’re squirrels?”
“It won’t be for long,” Crookedpaw urged. “And willow’s soft enough to sink your claws in.”
Piketooth was already heading toward the thicket. He leaped smoothly up a slim trunk and clung to one of the branches. It swayed beneath his weight, but he managed to hang on and the lush leaves hid his dark tabby pelt. “It’ll work!” he called.
Fallowtail and Cedarpelt bounded after him.
“Give us time to get ready,” Hailstar told Shimmerpelt and Softwing. “Then lure the dog toward us.”
Crookedpaw raced to the thicket and scrambled up a willow. He sank his claws into the trembling branch. Through the leaves, he could just see the Twoleg fence. As Hailstar scrambled into place, Oakheart teetered along a wobbly branch and leaped across the small gap into Crookedpaw’s tree.
“I hope this works,” he muttered, swaying to keep his balance.
Crookedpaw dug his claws in harder. “It’ll work.” Heart in his throat, he stared at the Twoleg fence and waited for Shimmerpelt and Softwing to begin.
Shimmerpelt slunk forward and slid under the lowest bar of the fence. Softwing’s white fur flashed beside her. Keeping low, the two warriors crept up the field. Beyond them, the dog charged back and forth. Slowing to a halt, Shimmerpelt rested her tail on Softwing’s spine and gave an earsplitting yowl.
Crookedpaw leaned forward, energy bursting beneath his pelt, as the dog skidded to a halt and stared down the field. Its bark faltered, then turned t
o a menacing growl.
Run!
The dog hurtled down the field. Shimmerpelt spun on her haunches and raced away, Softwing at her side, flying over the grass, their paws hardly touching the ground. Ducking, they shot under the fence and pelted for the willow thicket.
Come on!
The willows shivered as the attack patrol tensed. The dog squeezed under the fence and exploded into the meadow. Shimmerpelt and Softwing ran like rabbits ahead of it. Crookedpaw glimpsed his father’s gray pelt slipping like a shadow through the long grass, keeping pace alongside. A growl rumbled in Rippleclaw’s throat.
“Hush!” Hailstar ordered.
Shimmerpelt and Softwing closed on the thicket, their paws thrumming the ground.
“Take him!” Softwing yowled as they shot beneath the waiting patrol.
“Ready!” Hailstar hissed as the dog neared. “Attack!”
Crookedpaw dropped and landed on his toes, back arched, pelt bushed, lips drawn back as he hissed at the dog. His Clanmates lined up beside him, a wall of spitting rage. The dog yelped and stumbled to a halt. It stared at the cats for a moment. Then, with a yelp of terror, it hurtled away, streaking across the meadow.
Fallowtail shrieked, “It’s heading for the beech copse!”
Willowpaw!
Crookedpaw broke away from the warriors and pelted after the dog. It was taking a line straight for the beeches. Why wasn’t it barking? Crookedpaw willed it to give some warning to Willowpaw and the others. What if they didn’t hear its paw steps? He pelted after it, gaining ground as it jumped over a patch of marshy grass and bolted for the trees.
Crookedpaw’s pads hit the slope. “Willowpaw!”
“Dog!” Owlfur’s panicked yowl sounded from the top. Paws scrabbled on leaves and the copse exploded with shrieks and hisses.
Crookedpaw crested the slope. Graypaw, Owlfur, and Brightsky clung halfway up the beech trunks, staring helplessly down. With a jolt of horror, Crookedpaw spotted Willowpaw. The dog had her cornered, backed up against the roots of a tree. Her eyes were wild as she flailed with her forepaws, hissing in panic.
Crookedpaw dived at the dog. He landed square on its back and sank his teeth deep into its fur. As the dog bucked, howling, beneath him, he leaped off and growled. The dog turned on him, its eyes blazing with fury. Crookedpaw backed away, pelt bushed up. Come on, you fish-brain. Follow me! He swiped at its muzzle, then turned and ran.
The dog pelted after him, barking with rage. Crookedpaw sped down the slope. He could see Cedarpelt and Piketooth racing toward the beech copse as he dived into the long marshy grass. The ground trembled under his paws as the dog pounded after him. Teeth snapped at his tail; hot breath bathed his heels. Pulling at the ground with his claws, Crookedpaw pushed harder, his mind blank as he hurtled blindly on. Suddenly he broke through a wall of fear scent. He’d reached his Clanmates!
“Keep running!” Hailstar screeched.
As Crookedpaw shot past them, the patrol closed ranks behind him and met the dog with a frenzy of claws and teeth. Crookedpaw pulled up, his lungs screaming as he fought to get his breath. Turning, he saw the dog flee. Oakheart led the charge after it. The patrol was driving it toward the fence, back to its home. Yelping in alarm, the dog scrabbled under the lowest bar and fled whimpering up the field.
“You saved my life!” Willowpaw’s yowl made Crookedpaw spin around.
The pale tabby was racing toward him with Graypaw at her heels. She stopped in front of him, purring loudly. “I thought that dog was going to kill me!” Eyes shining, she rubbed her cheek along his twisted jaw.
Crookedpaw’s pelt pricked, hot with embarrassment. “Th-that’s okay,” he stammered.
Suddenly Oakheart, Hailstar, and the others were crowding around.
“He saved me!” Willowpaw told them.
Her mentor Owlfur was still wide-eyed with shock. “It all happened so quickly,” he explained. “I thought Willowpaw had made it up a tree and then I looked down and there she was. . . .” He trailed off, lost in thoughts of what might have happened.
“I’ve never seen anything braver,” Brightsky cut in. “Crookedpaw actually jumped on its back!”
Fallowtail pushed past her Clanmates and pressed her muzzle against Crookedpaw’s. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I’d die if I lost her again.”
Overwhelmed, Crookedpaw stared at his paws. “Any warrior would have done the same,” he insisted. He stole a look at Hailstar. Surely he’d managed to impress the RiverClan leader this time?
Of course you have. Mapleshade’s mew sounded in his ear. Look what happens when you put your Clan first.
“Are you sure you don’t need more ointment for your paws?” Oakheart mimicked Willowpaw’s mew as he followed Crookedpaw along the shore.
“Shut up.” Crookedpaw fluffed out his pelt, hoping it would cool him down. The newleaf sun was hot.
Oakheart took no notice. “But they must be sooooo sore after chasing that dog and rescuing me.”
Crookedpaw waded into the river, ignoring his brother.
“Graypaw says she’s going to move her nest next to yours,” Oakheart persisted.
Cool water flooded his ears as Crookedpaw dived under the surface. He swam strongly, following the dip of the riverbed, using his tail to balance him against the buffeting current. Eyes open, he could see a fat trout basking on the bottom. With a kick of his hind legs he shot forward, snapping his teeth around the trout and pushing upward toward daylight. He broke the surface with a splash, the trout flapping between his jaws. With a flick of his head, he snapped its spine and the fish drooped instantly.
“Nice catch.” Oakheart was sitting on the shore, washing his face.
Crookedpaw climbed out and dropped the fish beside his brother. “Aren’t you fishing?”
“I thought I’d let you get the best catch first,” Oakheart teased.
Crookedpaw nudged him playfully, unbalancing him. Tumbling on to his side, Oakheart purred, “It’s not really serious between you and Willowpaw, is it?”
“Who said it was?” Crookedpaw stared at him in surprise.
“The whole Clan’s been gossiping since sunhigh,” Oakheart told him.
Crookedpaw snorted. “They’re like a bunch of elders.” He shook out the water from his fur. “Willowpaw’s just a denmate.”
“Nothing more?”
“No!” Willowpaw was nice. And there was something special about her. But it was embarrassing to talk about it. “I just like her as a denmate! That’s not against the warrior code, is it?”
Oakpaw padded into the water. “I guess not.”
Crookedpaw watched his brother dive in and disappear. He frowned. Even if he did like Willowpaw, why would she like him? He had a twisted jaw that made other cats stare. Growling irritably, Crookedpaw dived back into the river. Who cares? Learning to be a great warrior was far more important.
Chapter 18
“Hey, you two!” Cedarpelt called to Crookedpaw and Willowpaw as they padded along the sun-drenched riverbank. “Slow down!”
“You don’t have to keep up with us,” Crookedpaw called over his shoulder. “We know where we’re going and we know how to fish!”
Owlfur sighed. “Let them be.”
“Why did I have to get an apprentice who thinks he knows everything?” Cedarpelt grumbled loud enough for Crookedpaw to hear over the chattering of the river.
Willowpaw brushed against Crookedpaw. “Ignore him,” she whispered.
But Crookedpaw was tired of being treated like a bothersome kit. He trained as hard as any cat and if he argued with Cedarpelt over some of the moves, it was only because Mapleshade had shown him a better way. And she, after all, was a StarClan warrior. “Why do I have to have a mentor who thinks I’m a fish-brain?” he called back.
“Don’t answer him,” Owlfur advised Cedarpelt. “All apprentices think they know everything until they become warriors. He’ll grow out of it.”
Crookedpaw quickened his pace.
&
nbsp; “We can’t leave them behind,” Willowpaw fretted.
“Why not?” Crookedpaw was bristling.
Willowpaw looked back. “It’s okay,” she meowed. “They sat down.” She padded into the water. “Let’s fish here.”
“There’s a deep pool in the river just past the stepping-stones,” Crookedpaw told her. “It’ll be full of carp hiding from the sun.”
Willowpaw licked her lips. “Sounds good.”
They padded downstream, side by side.
“Did you hear the news?” Willowpaw mewed.
“What?”
“Shimmerpelt’s moved to the nursery.”
“Shimmerpelt?” Crookedpaw nearly tripped over a stone. “But she agreed to chase the dog!”
Willowpaw twitched her tail. “I know! What if the dog had got her? She swore she didn’t know then. Brambleberry’s furious.”
“I bet Piketooth’s pretty cross.”
“He’d never be cross with Shimmerpelt,” Willowpaw purred. “He still can’t believe a cat like her would look twice at an old snaggletooth like him.” She brushed her muzzle against Crookedpaw’s jaw. “Have you seen Lakeshine’s kits yet?” The gray-and-white queen had kitted in the night.
“What?” Crookedpaw was still lost in her scent.
“Lakeshine’s kits.” Willowpaw nudged him. “Have you seen them?”
Crookedpaw shook his head. “Has she named them yet?”
“Sunkit and Frogkit,” Willowpaw purred. “They’re so cute. She let me wash one.”
Crookedpaw leaped over a shallow pool among the pebbles. “It’s good news for all of us. RiverClan always needs new warriors.”
“They’re still kits!”
“They’ll be warriors soon enough,” Crookedpaw pointed out. “Just like us.”
Willowpaw rolled her eyes. “Is that all you think about?” She bounded ahead and raced along the shore, her paws splashing in and out of the shallows as she veered past clumps of water-mint and mossy rocks.
Crookedpaw chased after her.
“Is this the pool?” Willowpaw leaped over the first stepping-stone, splashing down in the shallows, and pointed her nose to where the water dipped into a smooth, rolling current.
