Crookedstar's Promise

by Erin Hunter

Crookedjaw pushed through the cats lingering at the foot of the Great Rock. The night was warm and the Clans seemed in no hurry to go home.

  “Congratulations!” Hollyflower from ShadowClan ducked away from a knot of warriors. “One moment you’re a ’paw, the next you’re a deputy.”

  Fallowtail stopped beside Crookedjaw. “I guess StarClan knows best,” murmured the RiverClan she-cat.

  Hollyflower pricked her ears. “Was there an omen?”

  “It was quite—”

  “Not really.” Crookedjaw interrupted sharply, silencing Fallowtail. He didn’t want StarClan brought into this.

  “What’s this about omens?” Talltail of WindClan joined Hollyflower.

  Fallowtail narrowed her eyes. “Crookedjaw’s so young, everyone’s gossiping about StarClan and how they chose him.” She glanced at Crookedjaw, clearly picking up his hint. “I don’t see what the fuss is about. He’s our strongest warrior.”

  Adderfang slid from the crowd. “Really?” He sniffed. “I thought he’d never fought a battle.”

  Hollyflower flicked her tail. “You’re still smarting after being beaten by a medicine cat.”

  Adderfang scowled. “He wasn’t a medicine cat then.” He shot a furious glance at Mudfur.

  Brambleberry was introducing her new apprentice to the other medicine cats. He’d been working hard in the half-moon since starting his training, padding around camp muttering herb names under his breath as he tried to memorize them all.

  The ShadowClan warriors Crowtail and Archeye stopped beside Crookedjaw. “Congratulations.” Archeye dipped his head.

  “It’s good to see such a young cat getting on so well,” Crowtail added.

  “Thanks.” Crookedjaw looked past them, searching the crowd for Oakheart. “I really need to find someone.” He excused himself and shouldered his way into the crowd.

  Oakheart was pacing the edge of the clearing.

  “There you are!” Crookedjaw hailed him with a flick of his tail.

  Oakheart blinked at him. “Where else would I be?”

  “I couldn’t see you in the crowd.” Crookedjaw noticed his brother’s ruffled fur. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Is he jealous that I’m deputy? Crookedjaw had been keeping that thought at bay since the ceremony in the camp. Oakheart had seemed happy for him, but tonight he was definitely avoiding Crookedjaw’s gaze. “Did you see Hailstar announce me as RiverClan’s new deputy?” He watched Oakheart closely.

  Oakheart glanced back at the bushes that lined the hollow. “Yeah! It was great.”

  Crookedjaw wasn’t convinced. “Are you jealous of me?” he blurted.

  Oakheart twitched his tail. “Jealous? No!” He straightened up. “I’m proud of you, Crookedjaw. You wanted this so much. You deserve it. You’re going to be a great deputy and a great leader.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Oakheart purred. “I never wanted to be deputy.”

  “But you said you wanted to be leader one day!”

  “All apprentices say they want to be leader one day.”

  Relief flooded Crookedjaw.

  “The others are leaving,” Oakheart commented. The RiverClan patrol was heading for the slope. “I’ll catch up,” he promised. “There’s something I have to do first.”

  Crookedjaw hurried to join his Clanmates, falling in beside Brambleberry and Mudfur as they reached the top of the hollow.

  “That was an interesting night,” Mudfur meowed. “RiverClan now has the youngest deputy and the oldest medicine cat apprentice.”

  Crookedjaw purred. “What did you think of the other medicine cats?”

  “I like Featherwhisker,” Mudfur replied.

  “Did you ever meet Goosefeather, the previous ThunderClan medicine cat?” Brambleberry asked. “He’s moved to the elders’ den now.”

  “Oh yes. I always thought he looked like he’d just been pulled through a bramble.”

  “Mudfur!” Fallowtail was calling him from the head of the patrol. “Come and test out your new skills on Beetlenose. He’s got hiccups.”

  Mudfur hurried away, leaving Brambleberry and Crookedjaw alone. Silence walked between them like a third warrior. He could see her pelt bristling as they headed into the shadow of ThunderClan’s forest. He wanted to clear the air, but now that he knew where Mapleshade came from, he was terrified of asking Brambleberry about the omens. What if she knew he’d been meeting a warrior from the Dark Forest?

  But I’m loyal to my Clan! I’ve got nothing to hide! Then why did his pelt prick with shame at the thought? Crookedjaw broke the silence, unable to bear it. “Are there any other herbs that might help Shellheart?” It was a dumb question. He knew she’d tried everything already.

  “I’m going to start giving him more poppy seeds,” Brambleberry meowed. “He’s in more pain than he’ll admit to.”

  “How long before he gets better?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Crookedjaw felt a small hard lump gather in his belly, as if he’d swallowed a stone. “He’s not going to get better, is he?”

  “No.” Brambleberry’s mew was as soft as the breeze. “I’ve seen lumps like this before. The cat never survives. A lump like this brings pain and sickness and withers a warrior like frost withers a flower.”

  Where’s Oakheart? Part of Crookedjaw wanted to share his grief, part wanted to protect his brother from knowing for as long as he could. First Rainflower and now Shellheart.

  He felt Brambleberry’s pelt brush his. “I’m sorry you have to go through this,” she murmured.

  For a moment it felt as if there had never been distance between them. Then Crookedjaw pictured the squirrel with the broken mouth, an omen sent not by StarClan but by a cat from the Dark Forest. If there was any way he could stop Brambleberry from learning the truth—if she didn’t already know—he had to find it. He stepped away from her, suddenly worried she might pick up signals through his fur, and walked on alone.

  Crookedjaw squeezed through the camp entrance, weary from the Gathering. Sedgepaw and Sunpaw were waiting in the shadows.

  “What happened?” Sedgepaw squeaked.

  “Can we come next time?” Sunpaw begged.

  Crookedjaw brushed past them. “Ask Hailstar.”

  Willowbreeze padded from their den. “Did it go okay?” She yawned.

  “Go back to sleep,” he called. “I’ll tell you in the morning.” He hurried across the clearing and climbed the slope. Ducking his head into the elders’ den, he peered through the shafts of moonlight streaming through the woven roof. “Shellheart?” he whispered.

  “Crookedjaw.” Birdsong heaved herself to her paws. “He’ll be so glad you came. He’s been wondering how you got on at the Gathering.” Brushing against him, she guided him past Troutclaw’s nest.

  “Perhaps he’ll stop talking and go to sleep now he’s seen you,” the old tom muttered.

  “Take no notice of him,” Birdsong whispered. “He loves listening to Shellheart’s stories.”

  Shellheart lifted his head. “Crookedjaw?”

  “He’s come to tell you about the Gathering.” Birdsong nuzzled Crookedjaw’s cheek before padding back to her nest.

  Shellheart looked small in his moonlit nest, his fur flat, his ribs showing though his pelt. “Come lie next to me,” he croaked. “It’s cold.”

  Can’t he feel the warm greenleaf breeze? Crookedjaw climbed into his father’s nest and curled beside him. “Hailstar told them I was deputy,” he reported.

  Shellheart broke into a rattling purr. “I’m so proud of you. Rainflower would have been proud, too.”

  No, she wouldn’t. She’d have found some reason he’d failed her.

  He felt his father’s breath on his cheek. “I’m sorry she judged you so harshly, Crookedjaw.”

  I was her son, for StarClan’s sake. Bitterness rose in his throat.

  “She was wrong.” Shellheart’s mew was soft. “Ever since I’
ve known her, she’s always found it hard to admit when she was wrong.” He paused, as though remembering old arguments, in the days when they were both still young and headstrong. “She will come to see that. I bet she’s watching you now from StarClan, regretting how much she missed.”

  A chill ran along Crookedjaw’s spine. Rainflower may be watching me from StarClan, but who is watching me from the Dark Forest?

  Chapter 34

  The willows flailed their branches helplessly while the wind stripped their leaves. Reeds rattled and swayed as the river raged past, skidding up the banks and snatching pebbles from the shore. Crookedjaw watched the water race past his paws. Behind him, the wind moaned through the cracks and hollows of Sunningrocks. Ducking back against the cliff, out of the rain, he shivered and pulled his tail tighter around him. He spotted a head bobbing toward him through the swirling river.

  Willowbreeze.

  She hauled herself out of the water and shook out her pelt. “There you are.” She touched her muzzle to his. “I was worried about you.”

  “I’m okay.” Crookedjaw blinked. “He liked to sit here and watch the river, you know.”

  “Shellheart?”

  He nodded, fresh grief piercing his heart. “Perhaps his spirit still comes here to fish.” It’d been three moons since he’d lain beside his father in the elders’ den. Two since he’d died.

  “Even when he’s got the warm rivers of StarClan?”

  Crookedjaw swallowed. “But he’ll miss his old river, surely?”

  Willowbreeze settled beside him and leaned into him. “I’m sure he’s always watching from StarClan.” She flicked the tip of her tail. “He’ll want to see what his sons are up to.”

  A purr rumbled in Crookedjaw’s throat.

  Willowbreeze stiffened against him. “Ottersplash?”

  The white-and-ginger she-cat was plowing across the river. She hopped out, eyes glittering. “ThunderClan warriors are crossing the stepping-stones!”

  “Now?” Crookedjaw strained to see around the bend in the river.

  “They’ll be in the camp any moment,” Ottersplash urged. “Hailstar wants you.”

  Crookedjaw was already diving into the water. He swam expertly, navigating the swirling current with ease, and climbed out. Looking back to make sure Ottersplash and Willowbreeze were okay, he raced for camp. Through the drizzle, he could taste ThunderClan scent. They were headed this way. He swerved along the grassy path and raced into camp.

  Hailstar was pacing the clearing, his pelt spiked. Sedgecreek and Frogleap puffed out their chests, clearly eager to prove themselves worthy of their new warrior names. Softwing stood wide-eyed outside the nursery, her tail wrapped around her two young kits. Her mate Owlfur crouched beside her, his eyes merely slits as he watched the entrance, then stood as Willowbreeze and Ottersplash dashed in. “Did you see them? How many?”

  “Where are they?” Hailstar asked Ottersplash.

  “Headed this way.”

  Echomist hissed. “How dare they invade our territory?”

  Rippleclaw lashed his tail. “I want to be in the battle patrol!”

  “Me too!” Timberfur hurried forward with Cedarpelt on his tail. Sedgecreek and Frogleap darted after them, their eyes shining.

  Hailstar waved them back. “Wait,” he growled. “This might not be an invasion.”

  “It can’t be.” Fallowtail circled her leader. “They wouldn’t invade in broad daylight!”

  “Then why are they here?” Timberfur growled.

  Crookedjaw glanced at the entrance. “I’ll try to head them off before they reach camp.”

  Hailstar flattened his ears. “Take Rippleclaw and Ottersplash with you.”

  “Where’s Oakheart?” Crookedjaw scanned the camp.

  “Fishing,” Echomist told him. “He went out with Lakeshine and Shimmerpelt just after dawn.”

  “Find him and tell him what’s going on,” Crookedjaw ordered.

  Echomist nodded and headed for the entrance.

  “Not that way!” he hissed. “I don’t want you bumping into ThunderClan. Go out through the reed bed.”

  Echomist slid into the water and disappeared among the reeds. Crookedjaw signaled to Ottersplash and Rippleclaw with his tail. “Let’s go meet our visitors.” He led the way through the tunnel.

  Behind them, Hailstar started snapping orders. “Tell the elders to stay in their den,” he growled. “And guard it. I want three warriors by the nursery.”

  Crookedjaw narrowed his eyes against the drizzle. The next bend might lead them into a bristling ThunderClan patrol. He unsheathed his claws. No ThunderClan cat would get past him.

  “I hear them!” Ottersplash halted.

  Crookedjaw pricked his ears. The invaders were chatting as though they were visiting Clanmates! He growled and darted around the corner with his hackles up. He skidded to a halt in front of Sunstar. The ThunderClan leader signaled to his patrol with his tail.

  Crookedjaw unsheathed his claws. “What are you doing on RiverClan territory?”

  Bluefur, Whitestorm, Thrushpelt, and Lionheart fanned out behind their leader, but Crookedjaw kept his gaze fixed on Sunstar.

  “We want to talk with Hailstar.” The ThunderClan leader sounded as though he were asking a Clanmate for a piece of fresh-kill.

  “About what?” Ottersplash thrust her muzzle forward.

  Sunstar narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to share words that are meant for your leader?”

  Ottersplash snarled. Keep calm. Crookedjaw waved the she-cat back with his tail. “You expect me to lead you straight into our camp?” he countered.

  “Do we look like a battle patrol?” Sunstar glanced back at his warriors. Their pelts were smooth, their gaze curious. Bluefur was whispering to Whitestorm.

  Crookedjaw tilted his head. “It would take more than this to overrun our camp,” he agreed. Unless there’s a second patrol hidden somewhere. He tasted the air but scented nothing.

  Sunstar lifted his chin. “We only wish to share words.”

  Crookedjaw nodded. His Clan was prepared. “Follow me.” He turned and headed toward the camp, uncomfortable with ThunderClan warriors at his tail, but forcing his hackles down. The rain pattered around them as they followed the path through the reeds. Crookedjaw entered the clearing first, leaving Ottersplash and Rippleclaw to escort the patrol behind him.

  Timberfur and Owlfur were prowling beside the reed bed, their hackles raised. Cedarpelt stood guard by the elders’ den. Loudbelly, Sunfish, Sedgecreek, and Reedtail clustered protectively around the nursery. Softwing huddled between them with her kits.

  Lionheart stared around the camp as though it were filled with walking fish. “Why do they live in such uncomfortable-looking dens?”

  Crookedjaw growled. “They float if it floods.” Where’s Hailstar? He tasted the air. The RiverClan leader’s scent pooled in his den. Crookedjaw understood. Hailstar clearly didn’t want ThunderClan to think they were worried. “Wait here,” he told Sunstar. He padded to the willow and ducked into Hailstar’s den.

  Hailstar was sitting in his nest, his eyes sharp in the gloom. “Well?”

  “They’re here. Only a pawful of warriors. No sign of another patrol.”

  “Good.” Hailstar nodded. “Come on.” He led the way into the clearing and stood beneath the willow looking at Sunstar, his gaze more curious than anxious. Sunstar watched him and, when Hailstar didn’t speak, dipped his head.

  “Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan. We are taking them back.”

  Sunningrocks belong to RiverClan! Crookedjaw fought to keep his pelt smooth, praying his Clanmates would stay calm. The camp was no place for a battle.

  Hailstar unsheathed his claws. “You’ll have to fight for them.”

  “We’ll fight if we have to,” Sunstar meowed. “But we thought we’d give you fair warning.”

  Timberfur padded forward, pelt bristling. “Are you threatening us in our own camp?” he growled.

  “We’re no
t threatening you,” Sunstar answered calmly.

  Crookedjaw steadied his breathing. This was a contest of nerves, not claws.

  “We’re giving you a choice,” Sunstar went on. “If you keep off Sunningrocks, we’ll leave you alone. But any cat who sets paw there will be shredded.”

  Hailstar took a step forward. “Do you really think we’ll give up the rocks so easily?”

  “If you prefer a battle, then we’ll fight,” Sunstar repeated. “But are the rocks worth it?” He tipped his head on one side. “You have the river to fish in. Your paws are too big to reach far into the cracks of Sunningrocks; your pelts are too clearly marked to stalk prey there. It is no use for RiverClan’s ways of hunting. Is it worth fighting for?”

  Mudfur’s brown pelt flickered at the edge of Crookedjaw’s vision. It was what the medicine cat apprentice had argued all along, that Sunningrocks were not worth the number of RiverClan lives that had been lost. But would Hailstar agree this time?

  The RiverClan leader opened his mouth to scent the air. “I smell fear,” he snarled.

  “Then it comes from your own warriors,” Sunstar snapped.

  “You actually expect us to give up Sunningrocks?” Hailstar hissed.

  Sunstar shook his head. “I expect you to fight for them,” he meowed. “Even though you will waste warriors and blood. You will lose, and it will be thanks to your decision.”

  Hailstar took a step toward the ThunderClan leader. “RiverClan warriors fight with claws, not words.”

  “Very well.” Sunstar nodded. “Sunningrocks are ours. We will set the new markers tomorrow. After that, any RiverClan cat found there will face a fight that he will not win.” He gazed around the camp and raised his voice. “Let all of RiverClan know that the warning has been given. Any blood spilled now will be on Hailstar’s paws.” He turned and headed for the entrance.

  Crookedjaw stared after them, stunned by their arrogance.

  Timberfur shot forward. “How dare they?” He growled at the disappearing patrol.

  “Make sure they leave the territory!” Hailstar nodded at Ottersplash and Timberfur. “Escort them to the border.”

  The two warriors raced out of camp.

  “When are we going to fight?” Sedgecreek appeared beside Crookedjaw, dancing from paw to paw.