Crookedstar's Promise

by Erin Hunter

“I told her I didn’t want her help anymore.” Crookedjaw flexed his claws. “Is that enough to make StarClan trust me?”

  “StarClan sees all.” Brambleberry looked down at her paws for a moment. “Far more than me.” She turned and began to pad through the heather. “They’ll decide for themselves.”

  Crookedjaw’s belly churned. What if his warrior ancestors refused to give him his nine lives as punishment for training in the Dark Forest? He trotted after Brambleberry, his wounds aching as they climbed the slope onto the high moor.

  Night fell as they followed tiny trails through the heather. The wind whistled around their ears, and Crookedjaw didn’t hear the approaching patrol.

  “What are you doing here?” Reedfeather’s eyes blazed on the shadowy path.

  “We’re traveling to the Moonstone,” Crookedjaw told him.

  Dawnstripe and Talltail flanked the WindClan deputy. Dawnstripe padded forward and pushed past Brambleberry.

  Crookedjaw growled. “You must let us pass. I’m going to receive my nine lives.”

  Reedfeather’s gaze sharpened, hard as flint. “Hailstar’s dead?” There was no grief in the tabby tom’s mew, but he signaled to his Clanmates with his tail. “Let them pass.” The WindClan patrol stood aside and let Crookedjaw and Brambleberry pass.

  Beyond the moors, the Thunderpath was silent. They crossed it and headed along the tracks and paths of Twoleg territory. Beneath the glittering stars, they trekked on. Crookedjaw fought the ache in his wounds, pushing himself on though his legs were shaking with tiredness. They gave Fleck’s farm a wide berth. Crookedjaw had seen enough barns for one day, and they reached Highstones as the moon was still rising.

  “We’ve made good time,” Brambleberry panted as they trudged up the slope toward Mothermouth.

  Please give me my lives, Crookedjaw prayed as he followed her into the crow-black tunnel. He’d forgotten how cold it was. The icy tang of stone bathed his tongue. Last time he was here Willowpaw had been with him; it had been an adventure. This time he felt older than the moon. Who would be waiting for him at the Moonstone? Cats from StarClan, or cats from the Dark Forest?

  “Brambleberry!” He could hear her pads scuffing the stone ahead, but he suddenly needed to hear her voice, to be sure that it was her he was following and not some other cat sent by Mapleshade.

  “I’m here.”

  Light flared in the tunnel ahead.

  “Hurry!” she urged. “The moon’s already lit the stone!”

  Heart racing, Crookedjaw dashed after her, blinking against the glare as they burst into the Moonstone chamber. He’d forgotten how high the roof soared above the floor and how beautiful the Moonstone was. It glittered with the light of countless stars.

  “Go on, touch your nose against it.” Brambleberry nudged him forward.

  Fear gripped his heart. “But who will be waiting for me?”

  She blinked at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. She ducked away, leaving him alone in the cave.

  Padding slowly forward, Crookedjaw closed his eyes. He crouched down and leaned forward till the tip of his muzzle touched the stone. He waited for light to flood through him, to be swept into the stars in a dazzling dream. Please!

  He blinked open his eyes. He was standing in a huge, empty hollow. Shadows pressed at the edge of his vision. His heart tightened. The Dark Forest! They’ve come to claim me. His breathing quickened. He backed away, shaking his head, desperately trying to find a way out of the dream.

  Silvery light began to spread from the top of the hollow, gathering speed as it spiraled down around him. It lit faces and pelts that sparkled with stars until the slopes were filled with countless cats staring down at him. Crookedjaw spun around, watching more and more faces light around him. He smelled the river and the forest and heather and pines—all Clans mingled as one, eyes blazing, pelts shimmering. Had the whole of the Dark Forest come to gloat? A gray pelt stirred from the mass and padded forward.

  Hailstar!

  “Welcome to StarClan.” Hailstar dipped his head. He looked young and strong, his pelt sleek, his eyes bright. “I’m proud of you, Crookedjaw,” he meowed. “You saved your Clanmates from the rats.”

  “But not you.”

  “It was my time to die.” The old RiverClan leader leaned toward him. “Now it’s your time to live.”

  Crookedjaw bent his head, mouth dry. This wasn’t the Dark Forest, not if Hailstar was here. But would he receive StarClan’s blessing?

  “With this life I give you courage,” Hailstar whispered. “When you feel doubt, let your heart lead you forward, not back.”

  As Hailstar’s muzzle touched his head, agony blazed through Crookedjaw. He tried to flinch away but his paws were rooted to the ground. Hailstar’s memories flared in his mind. Battle flashed around him, claws slashed, teeth snapped, enemies screeched. Crookedjaw found himself falling, plummeting from Sunningrocks, splashing down into the river, bubbles exploding around him.

  He gasped as Hailstar stepped back and the memories faded. He swayed on his paws, weak with relief. “Thank you,” he croaked.

  Another cat stepped from the ranks of StarClan.

  Duskwater. Her name flashed in his mind, though he’d never met her; she’d died in the flood on the night he was kitted. Yet Crookedjaw knew her as though he’d been born knowing her—as though he’d been born knowing all his ancestors.

  “I died in the storm that gave birth to you,” Duskwater mewed. “With this life I give you a mother’s love.” She stretched up to rest her nose on his head. Shock pierced Crookedjaw as love, fierce as tigers, dazzled through him, hardening his heart until he knew no fear. Was a mother’s love for her kits really this ferocious?

  Duskwater stepped away and Crookedjaw found himself blinking into the eyes of a long-haired tabby. “Troutclaw!” Crookedjaw greeted him with delight.

  Troutclaw’s pelt rippled like moonlit water. “With this life I give you justice.” His mew had lost its rasping croak; he sounded young and confident. As he leaned close, Crookedjaw felt certainty flow over his heart like water over stone. He would always know what was right, though seasons changed and moons passed. Time may smooth the stone, but time will never wear it away.

  Troutclaw moved aside and another took his place.

  “I’m Mossleaf.” The ancient RiverClan cat had the bright eyes of a young warrior. “With this life, I give you trust.” He touched his muzzle to Crookedjaw’s head and Crookedjaw felt the peace of a wide blue sky move through him.

  He heard another name. Lilyflower. He nodded his thanks as the RiverClan queen padded forward. Her blue eyes sparkled with starlight. “With this life I give you compassion.” Warmth swept him as her muzzle touched his head; love for his Clanmates, for cats who were injured or frightened or displaced, flooded him until he felt his heart would burst.

  She turned away and a young tom appeared in front of Crookedjaw. “I’m Lightningpaw.” He nodded to Crookedjaw. “With this life I give you humility.” As the RiverClan apprentice touched Crookedjaw with his muzzle, the world shifted around him, widening till he could only see RiverClan’s territory at the edge of his vision, a tiny speck in a spreading ocean of meadows, rivers, and forest. The world is so big! What we do matters to us, but there is always something more happening in a different place.

  As Lightningpaw pulled away, Crookedjaw stared excitedly at the cat who replaced him. Brightsky! He recognized her pelt with a surge of joy. Peeking behind her he saw three tiny kits, their eyes round and shining. Brightsky gazed at him with happiness glowing in her eyes. “With this life I give you hope,” she whispered. “Never be afraid of the future, for it brings wonderful things.” As she touched his head Crookedjaw felt himself skimming over meadows, running like the wind, hardly touching the ground, the horizon ahead of him lit by a rosy dawn.

  Brightsky’s kits trotted around her, ducking under her soft belly, as she took her place among the rest of StarClan.

  “With this life I g
ive you patience.” Crookedjaw blinked as a tom touched his head. Sparrowfeather. The name flashed in Crookedjaw’s mind as though he’d spoken it all his life. Peace seeped into his pelt, slowing his heart until the present existed only as a single beat.

  As Sparrowfeather ducked away, the moment of perfect stillness passed and the future and the past crowded into Crookedjaw’s thoughts once more. Rainflower? He scanned the crowd for his mother. Did she have a life to give him?

  “Crookedjaw.”

  He looked up as he heard Shellheart’s mew. Bittersweet joy touched his heart. “She is here,” Shellheart murmured as if Crookedjaw had spoken out loud. “But your last life is mine to give.” His eyes burned into Crookedjaw’s. “Long ago, you lapped water at a poisoned spring. I’m sorry I didn’t know until too late. I would have guided you better.”

  Crookedjaw shook his head. “You couldn’t have guided me any better.”

  Shellheart silenced him with a look. “With this life I give you loyalty, to your Clan and to the cats who love you. Promise you’ll use it wisely.”

  Crookedjaw shuffled his paws. He’s warning me to turn my back on Mapleshade. “I walk alone now,” he vowed.

  “No, not alone.” Shellheart gazed down at him. “Your ancestors walk alongside you, always. Travel well, Crookedstar. You will make a great leader.”

  Crookedstar closed his eyes as the cats of StarClan lifted their heads to the sky and called his new name. He would be a great leader. He could feel the certainty of it tingling in his paws. He couldn’t wait to get back to his Clan. As StarClan spun away, Crookedstar blinked open his eyes. Where’s the Moonstone?

  “We did it!” A familiar hiss sounded in his ear.

  Mapleshade!

  She stood beside him, her eyes glowing. “You kept your promise and I kept mine! You’ve proved that nothing is more important than leading your Clan. Are you going to thank me for the sacrifices I made for you?”

  Crookedstar stared at her. Sacrifices? Did she mean Rainflower? Hailstar? Did she really think she’d made him leader by persuading him to abandon the cats he loved?

  “I promised to be loyal to RiverClan, but not at the cost of my Clanmates!” he snarled. “Leave me alone! That’s the only thing you can do for me. The promise I made you means nothing!”

  As he turned away, she curled back her lip, revealing sharp yellow teeth. “You can’t walk away from me,” she hissed. Crookedstar felt her claws snag against his pelt, even though she was several paces away. “This will never be over!”

  Chapter 37

  Crookedstar sat back on his haunches, pressing a hollow into the snow, and let Loudbelly and Piketooth pass.

  “At least we know why you’re called Loudbelly,” Piketooth teased. “It’s been rumbling since we left camp.”

  Loudbelly scooped up a pawful of snow and hurled it at his Clanmate. “I’ve had half a sparrow in two days!” he reminded him. “Of course it’s rumbling!”

  “We’ll catch something before we go home,” Crookedstar mewed hopefully as they trudged into the willows above the camp. He tried to sound cheerful, but he hated watching his Clan grow so scrawny.

  “We’ve been out since dawn and we haven’t caught anything yet,” Loudbelly muttered. The sun was already sliding toward the horizon.

  The river had been frozen for half a moon, the ice too thick to break. Without fish, they’d had to rely on meager pickings from the woodland. Crookedstar had forgotten what a full belly felt like.

  “You must eat and stay strong for your Clan,” Willowbreeze begged him every night. But Crookedstar could not take food from his Clanmates. He’d rather starve.

  Loudbelly squawked as he disappeared into the snow. He struggled back to the surface, cursing. “Why do I find every dip and hollow?”

  “Let me go first.” Crookedstar bounded ahead, throwing up snow in his wake.

  “Thanks a lot!” Piketooth ducked as his leader sprayed him. “I wasn’t quite cold enough.” A growl edged his mew.

  Tempers were as short as the days. “Hungry bellies make angry hearts,” as Birdsong liked to say.

  Tanglewhisker had snapped at her the last time she’d said it. “Can’t you think of something helpful to say for a change?”

  For once Birdsong had no quick reply. She simply stared at her mate, her eyes dark with pain. Like the rest of her Clan, she was still mourning the death of Graypool’s kits. The whole Clan moved quietly around the camp now, not knowing how to comfort the grieving queen. The two kits, Splashkit and Morningkit, had been born sickly, and had never grown strong, dying less than a moon after they’d been kitted.

  Graypool had been very ill afterward. Mudfur and Brambleberry had taken turns to sit with the ailing queen and now she was finally strong enough to leave the camp from time to time, ranging out over the frozen river and yowling her heartbreak out loud.

  “She’s calling to them,” Crookedstar had heard Shimmerpelt whisper to Piketooth. “She knows they won’t be coming back but I think she believes they can hear her from StarClan.”

  Crookedstar had paused from his washing and pricked his ears, his heart twisting as he heard Graypool’s heartbroken cry echo eerily across the river.

  He shook away the memory. “Come on!” He scrambled up the slope to a clearing ringed by rowan and willow. Piketooth struggled after him, through the churned snow.

  Loudbelly tasted the air. “Squirrel!” The young warrior dropped into a crouch. A gray squirrel was scampering between the willows, its tail rippling behind it. As it skittered up a trunk, Loudbelly sprang after it, wallowing through the snow. He jumped up the tree and chased the squirrel along a slender branch, shaking clumps of snow on to Crookedstar and Piketooth.

  “Watch out!” Piketooth crossly shook snow from his pelt as Loudbelly leaped from one tree to another. But the squirrel darted upward, safe in the highest branches, and bounded away, tree to tree, leaving Loudbelly hanging from a narrow branch with his hind legs churning empty air.

  “Frog-dung!” Loudbelly let go and dropped into the snow. He sat up, shaking it from his ears.

  Crookedstar shook his head. “Tough luck,” he meowed. If only Oakheart were with them. He was fast and light enough on his paws to cross the snow without breaking the frosty crust. But Oakheart was resting. A vicious battle with Thistleclaw three moons ago had left him with a wrenched leg that still ached in the cold weather.

  Crookedstar wished he had been there to protect his brother. He’d trained in the Dark Forest, too, and he’d have known a few of Thistleclaw’s battle moves. Crookedstar shuddered at the memory of that dank, stinking place. Rumors from the border hinted that Tawnyspots was dying; ThunderClan would need a new deputy soon, and even though Adderfang had been carrying out Tawnyspot’s duties during his illness, Thistleclaw’s name was the one whispered at the Gatherings. Crookedstar closed his eyes, dreading the thought of a Dark Forest cat becoming leader of a Clan. A shower of snow splattering against his muzzle jerked him back to the present.

  “Mouse!” Loudbelly squealed as Piketooth shot away, skimming the snow, fast as a fish. He slammed his paws on it as it darted toward the roots of a rowan and killed it with a bite.

  “Let’s get back to camp,” Crookedstar meowed. It was getting colder and all the cats were shivering.

  “But we’ve only got a mouse,” Loudbelly argued.

  “It’ll have to do,” Crookedstar told him. “We’ve been out all day. It’s freezing. We don’t want to get sick.” He knew Brambleberry’s supply of herbs was dangerously low.

  As they padded into camp, Piketooth carried his mouse to the fresh-kill pile and dropped it next to a dead frog, which was already stiff with frost. Willowbreeze was hurrying toward the nursery, feathers trembling in her jaws.

  Crookedstar crossed the clearing and stopped beside her. “Who needs feathers?”

  Willowbreeze’s eyes shone. She beckoned him forward with a nod. Squeezing in after his mate, Crookedstar felt his mouth fall open in astonishment
. Graypool was curled in her nest with two kits squirming at her belly.

  Kits?

  Willowbreeze quickly tucked the feathers around the kits and sat back, purring. “It’s a blessing from StarClan!”

  Crookedstar closed his mouth, speechless.

  “I found them.” Graypool anticipated his first question as she gently nuzzled the kits, encouraging them closer.

  “A tom and a she-kit,” Willowbreeze announced proudly. The tom was pale gray and mewling; the dark gray she-kit stared around the den, her eyes bright with fear.

  Crookedstar leaned forward and touched the she-kit’s ear with his muzzle. “Don’t worry, little one. You’re safe here.” He narrowed his eyes at Graypool. “What do you mean, you found them? Where?”

  “At the border.” Graypool wrapped her tail tighter around the kits. “A loner must’ve abandoned them. It’s a blessing I discovered them before they froze.” She looked up with a gleam of defiance in her yellow eyes. “I’m going to keep them and raise them as my own.”

  “But what if their mother comes to find them?”

  Graypool flattened her ears. “A mother who abandons her kits won’t come back to claim them.”

  Willowbreeze pressed against Crookedstar. “StarClan must have led Graypool to them.”

  Fallowtail squeezed through the entrance. “Can I see them?”

  Lakeshine peered in, Softwing crowding behind her.

  “Come on.” Willowbreeze began shooing away her Clanmates. “These kits need rest.” She guided Fallowtail out of the nursery. “They’re still weak from their ordeal.”

  Crookedstar hopped out after them, glancing back at Graypool. The gray queen was staring at the kits as if they were the only things that mattered in the world. Outside the nursery, Willowbreeze fended off questions from her Clanmates.

  “They’re strong and healthy, just frightened.”

  “I expect you’ll be able to see them in the morning.”

  “Graypool’s smitten with them, and I think they like her.”

  Voleclaw nudged Crookedstar. “Willowbreeze seems to have everything under control,” he purred. “She’ll make a good mother herself one day.”