Crookedstar's Promise

by Erin Hunter

  Willowbreeze bristled. “What’s the matter?”

  “Can’t someone else do this for you?”

  “I can make my own nest, thank you!” She glared at him, a challenge in her eyes.

  Crookedstar swallowed his frustration. “Then at least let me help you,” he meowed. He picked up the bundle before she could argue and carried it to the nursery. Hauling the reeds inside, he dropped them beside her nest.

  Sunfish looked up from the edge of the den. She was expecting Beetlenose’s kits and would be kitting soon after Willowbreeze. “I told her she should ask for help.”

  Willowbreeze squeezed, puffing, into the nursery. “I don’t need any help,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

  “Who needs help?” Brambleberry slid in after her.

  Crookedstar flicked his tail. “Willowbreeze thinks she should be dragging reeds around camp!”

  Brambleberry shrugged. “Of course she wants to fix her nest before she kits. It’s perfectly natural.” She glanced at the bundle Willowbreeze had collected. “I’ll ask Shimmerpelt to give you a paw weaving those in.”

  “Thanks.” Willowbreeze was still glowering at Crookedstar.

  Crookedstar glowered back. “I still think you shouldn’t be—” He stopped as Willowbreeze started coughing. A chill rippled along his spine.

  Brambleberry narrowed her eyes. “When did you start coughing?” She padded to Willowbreeze and pressed an ear against the queen’s flank.

  “This morning,” Willowbreeze spluttered. “It’s just a tickle. I must have swallowed a feather in my sleep.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Brambleberry meowed breezily. “But I’ll get you some catmint and marigold anyway.”

  Crookedstar watched the medicine cat carefully. He knew how well she could guard her true feelings. He’d visit her later in her den to make sure that Willowbreeze wasn’t in any danger. Just to be sure.

  “Ow!” Willowbreeze gasped and dropped into a crouch.

  Crookedstar froze. Willowbreeze was scowling with pain.

  Brambleberry touched Willowbreeze’s belly with a paw. She looked a little surprised. “Well! The kits are coming.”

  Crookedstar stared at her in shock. “Now?”

  Brambleberry nodded. “Fetch Mudfur and Fallowtail.” She glanced at Sunfish. “It’ll be your turn soon enough. Do you want to watch?”

  Sunfish’s eyes glittered. “Yes, please,” she mewed nervously.

  Brambleberry whisked her tail toward Crookedstar. “Hurry up!”

  Crookedstar squeezed out of the nursery and raced across the clearing. He poked his head through the medicine den entrance. “Willowbreeze is kitting!” he called to Mudfur.

  The medicine cat’s apprentice was sorting through herbs. He looked up, ears pricking. “Okay, I’m coming.” He grabbed a pawful of leaves.

  Crookedstar ducked out and headed for the elders’ den. “Fallowtail?”

  The old queen looked up from her nest. “Has she started?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “You look as scared as a kit dropped in the river for the first time.” Fallowtail got stiffly to her paws and headed for the entrance.

  Crookedstar followed her down the slope and watched as she disappeared into the nursery. Mudfur trotted across the clearing with a bundle of herbs between his teeth and followed her inside. Crookedstar’s pelt pricked with frustration. He paced the clearing, trying to block out memories of Brightsky’s kitting.

  Oakheart padded into camp, a fish in his jaws. One glance at Crookedstar and he dropped the fish and raced across the clearing. “Willowbreeze?”

  “She’s just started kitting.” Crookedstar kept pacing. “Brambleberry’s with her.”

  “She’ll be fine.” Oakheart fell in beside him, gently slowing the pace. “She’s a strong warrior. I’ve seen her beat a ThunderClan tom with a single swipe. A kit or two won’t be any bother.”

  Crookedstar’s heart was racing.

  “And what a hunter! She can hold her breath underwater even longer than Rippleclaw,” Oakheart went on. “And everyone knows Rippleclaw’s half-cat, half-fish.”

  Ottersplash padded out of her den. “What’s going on?” The old warrior squinted across the clearing. Timberfur had been trying to persuade her to move to the elders’ den for moons, but she insisted she could carry on with her warrior duties for as long as he did. They’d been mates for moons and the whole Clan knew she’d be lonely away from the graying Clan deputy.

  Oakheart padded to her side and guided her to the edge of the clearing. “Willowbreeze is kitting.”

  “I thought I smelled fear.” Ottersplash sat down. “Yours, not hers. Don’t worry, Crookedstar. She’ll be fine.”

  Timberfur trotted over and sat beside her. “I think he’s forgotten that it’s Willowbreeze doing all the work.”

  It was sunhigh by the time Mudfur slid out of the nursery. “Three kits!” he yowled triumphantly.

  Crookedstar blinked. “How’s Willowbreeze?”

  “Doing fine.” Mudfur beckoned him toward the entrance. “Come and meet your daughters. They’re all she-kits!”

  Crookedstar squeezed inside, excitement fizzing in his paws. Willowbreeze was lying in her nest, her eyes dark. Fallowtail crouched beside her. Sunfish was sitting up in her nest, straining to see the new kits.

  Brambleberry nudged Crookedstar forward. “She’s very tired,” she warned.

  Willowbreeze coughed.

  “She’ll feel better after a long sleep,” Fallowtail murmured. “Why don’t you welcome your kits to the Clan, Crookedstar?”

  Crookedstar dragged his gaze from Willowbreeze to the three tiny, damp bundles lying at her belly. They looked perfect. He leaned into the nest and sniffed them one at a time. The biggest was dark gray, the middle-sized one almost black, and the smallest a silver-gray tabby just like her mother.

  Crookedstar’s heart ached with love for them. He pressed his muzzle against Willowbreeze’s cheek. It felt warm.

  “They’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  “I know,” she rasped.

  Pride swelled in him, blossoming like a flower.

  Brambleberry leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “You should let her rest.” Gently she ushered him toward the entrance. Crookedstar felt a wave of gratitude toward the medicine cat. She had delivered the most beautiful kits in all the Clans. And thank you, StarClan, for forgiving me. Nothing could compare with the blessing of Willowbreeze and their daughters.

  Crookedstar woke early. The sun had just broken the horizon as he padded out of his den and crossed the clearing, yawning. Quiet as a fish, he slid into the nursery and peeked into Willowbreeze’s nest. She was asleep with the three kits curled peacefully beside her. Crookedstar guessed she’d be hungry when she woke. He slipped into the clearing and headed out of camp. He’d caught a fat carp by the time the rest of the Clan was stirring.

  “Is that for Willowbreeze?” Oakheart called from his den as Crookedstar pushed through the reeds with the carp dangling from his jaws. Crookedstar nodded, slowing as he saw Mudfur standing outside the nursery. He dropped the fish at the medicine cat apprentice’s paws. “Is everything okay?” he asked. There was something about Mudfur’s expression that made the pelt rise along his spine.

  “You can’t go in,” Mudfur told him softly.

  Crookedstar bristled. “What do you mean I can’t go in?” He heard Willowbreeze coughing inside. The kits were mewling.

  “They’re hungry!” Crookedstar protested. “And Willowbreeze will be starving. I’m taking this fish in.” As he leaned down to pick it up, Mudfur moved in front of the entrance.

  Crookedstar glared at him, fear rising in his belly. He spat out the fish. “Let me in!”

  Mudfur met Crookedstar’s gaze steadily. “Brambleberry says she mustn’t be disturbed.” He glanced over his shoulder. “By anyone.”

  “Is Brambleberry in there?” Crookedstar’s heart was racing. “What’s wrong? Why can�
�t I see Willowbreeze?”

  “She’s a little sick,” Mudfur explained. “But the kits are fine, and I’m keeping a close eye on them.”

  Crookedstar growled. “Let me in!” He tried to push past Mudfur, but Mudfur pushed back. He’d lost none of his warrior strength.

  Brambleberry slid out of the den. “I thought I heard you,” she meowed cheerfully. “Nothing to worry about. Willowbreeze just has a little cough and I don’t want the infection spreading. You’ll have to stay outside till I tell you it’s okay to go in.”

  Crookedstar couldn’t believe his ears. He was the leader of these cats, for StarClan’s sake! “How come you’re allowed in? And Mudfur! It’s not fair!” He was arguing like a scared kit. “Even Sunfish is in there.”

  “Sunfish has moved to the elders’ den.” Brambleberry tipped her head on one side. “And if we were going to catch it, we’d have caught it by now.”

  “But I was in there yesterday and I didn’t catch it!” Crookedstar argued.

  “You were only there a few moments.” Brambleberry held his gaze. “It’s really better if you stay outside. You’re our leader. We can’t risk you getting sick, too.”

  Crookedstar opened his mouth. There was nothing to say. The Clan needed him. But Willowbreeze needed him, too!

  “Get better quickly!” he called through the wall of the nursery. “I love you! And our daughters!”

  Chapter 39

  Crookedstar jumped to his paws as Brambleberry slid out of the nursery. “Should I fetch more honey?” he offered.

  “No.” Brambleberry’s eyes were dull and the end of her tail trailed on the ground.

  A soft drizzle soaked the camp. In the days since her kitting, Willowbreeze’s cough had grown steadily worse. Two of the kits had begun coughing, too. Brambleberry had kept Crookedstar out of the nursery but he stayed close, pacing the clearing, one moment praying to StarClan, cursing them the next. All the hope, courage, trust, and patience bestowed on him by his ancestors meant nothing to him now. Where was their loyalty to him? How could they let him suffer like this? Make them well! Please make them well!

  “Crookedstar.” Brambleberry’s mew jerked him back to the present. “She has greencough.”

  “Then I’ll fetch some catmint!” Crookedstar headed for the reeds.

  “I’ve given her catmint already.” Brambleberry called him back. “It’s not working.”

  The nursery shook as Willowbreeze burst into another hacking fit. Tiny coughs spluttered alongside hers. Crookedstar flattened his ears. “What can I do?”

  “You can go in and see her.” Brambleberry stepped aside. “She wants to name the kits.”

  Why now? Crookedstar stared into the shadowy den, his paws suddenly rooted to the ground.

  “Go on,” Brambleberry prompted.

  Crookedstar steadied his breath and climbed inside. The nursery was dark, the air sour and stuffy. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the half-light.

  “Willowbreeze?”

  She was curled in her nest, their three kits huddled against her belly. She lifted her head as Crookedstar called her name. “You came.”

  He crouched beside the nest, brushing her cheek with his muzzle. “Brambleberry wouldn’t let me in before now. But I’ve been outside all the time.”

  “Has it been long?” Willowbreeze’s eyes were streaming. Her muzzle was damp. She coughed weakly, making her whole body shudder.

  “No,” Crookedstar whispered. “Not long.”

  Willowbreeze gazed into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  He tipped his head on one side. “Why?”

  “For leaving you to raise our daughters.”

  “You’re not going anywhere!” Crookedstar pressed his cheek hard against hers. “I won’t let you leave me.”

  “You’ll be a wonderful father.” A purr rumbled in her throat, making her cough again. This time she struggled to get her breath. “I’m so happy Hailstar brought me back from WindClan. I’ve loved being with you and with RiverClan.”

  “Don’t talk like that!” Crookedstar fought to keep the panic from his mew. The kits were lifting their heads, turning their muzzles toward him, straining to open their eyes. “You can’t leave the kits. They need you.” I need you.

  “Oh, my precious love.” Willowbreeze brushed her muzzle along his twisted jaw. “Be brave for me, please.”

  “You’re going to be fine!”

  “Help me name our daughters.”

  Numbness crept beneath Crookedstar’s pelt, deadening his heart, slowing his thoughts. Willowbreeze was right. Their daughters needed names. He reached a paw into the nest and touched the darkest gray kit. “Minnowkit,” he murmured. He already knew what it would be. He’d planned their names days ago as he paced the clearing.

  “Minnowkit,” Willowbreeze echoed with a wheeze.

  “And Willowkit.” Crookedstar stroked the smoky black kit. “I want her to have your name.”

  Willowkit mewled and caught hold of his paw, churning her hind legs against his pad. Purring, he shook her off gently and touched the palest of the three.

  “And this is Silverkit.”

  “Silverkit.” Willowbreeze relaxed against him, her cheek resting on his. “They are lovely names.” Her breathing eased. Curling herself around her kits, she rested her nose on her paws and closed her eyes.

  Crookedstar buried his muzzle in her pelt. “You rest now, my lovely.” He slid into the nest and wrapped himself around her. “I’ll keep you warm.” He closed his eyes and breathed in her soft scent.

  “Crookedstar?” The den rustled as Brambleberry crept in. She leaned into the nest and touched his pelt. “I heard the names you gave your kits. They’re beautiful.”

  He lifted his head. How long have I been here?

  Brambleberry’s mew was no more than a breath. “I’m so sorry. Willowbreeze has gone.”

  “No!” Crookedstar sat up with a jolt, realizing that Willowbreeze’s pelt was cold to the touch. “No!” He scrambled from the nest and burst from the den. “No!” His yowl ripped through the camp. “I never promised you this!” Shocked gazes flashed from his Clanmates. He raced out of the camp, pounding the wet grass as he pelted into the willows. “Mapleshade!” he roared. “Where are you? Is this another of your sacrifices? Is this so I can be the greatest warrior ever? I don’t want to be the greatest warrior! I take it back! I take back my promise! If this is what I must suffer, I don’t want it!”

  “Crookedstar!” Oakheart’s yowl rang through the trees.

  Crookedstar collapsed, panting.

  His brother’s pelt brushed his. “What are you talking about?” Oakheart pressed against him. “What did you promise?”

  Crookedstar shook him away. “I can’t tell you!” Guilt raged through him. “I can’t say!”

  Oakheart smoothed his pelt with his tail. “Come back to the camp, Crookedstar. Our Clanmates are worried.”

  Crookedstar pushed himself to his paws. He padded blindly after Oakheart, back to the camp, into the clearing. Sunfish was squeezing out of the nursery, Silverkit dangling in her jaws.

  Crookedstar ran toward her. “Where are you taking her?”

  Sunfish flinched away, her eyes wide. Brambleberry darted between them. “She’s taking Silverkit to the elders’ den where she’ll be safe from infection. She’ll nurse her and keep her warm.”

  “What about Willowkit and Minnowkit?” Crookedstar demanded.

  “They’re asleep in the nursery.”

  “And . . . and Willowbreeze?” Her name stuck in his throat, choking him. Brambleberry’s gaze flicked past him. Crookedstar turned and saw Willowbreeze’s body already laid out in the clearing, rain drenching her pelt. With an agonized moan, he barged into the nursery. “I’m going to stay with my kits,” he growled.

  He curled into the nest with Minnowkit and Willowkit. They were trembling with fever and coughing as he tucked himself around them and held them tight. “Hush, little ones. I’ll take care of you.”
>
  Anxious mews erupted outside.

  “It’s all right.” Brambleberry soothed her Clanmates. “He’s grieving.”

  Crookedstar flattened his ears and held on to his kits. They coughed, jerking against him, fragile as prey, mewling and squirming as the nursery grew darker. Night fell and Crookedstar heard paws scuff the clearing and soft whispers stir the air as his Clanmates sat vigil for Willowbreeze. Crookedstar lapped gently at his daughters’ pelts until they grew quiet. Relieved, Crookedstar closed his eyes.

  “Crookedstar.”

  He woke up, blinking against the dawn light filtering through the roof. Mudfur’s dark pelt moved beside the nest. Crookedstar sat up. Minnowkit and Willowkit tumbled away from him. Crookedstar stretched out a paw to nudge them back into the nest.

  Mudfur touched Crookedstar lightly with his muzzle. “They’re dead, Crookedstar.” He stared down at the tiny bodies. “They’re with Willowbreeze now.”

  Crookedstar hardly heard what he was saying. He pushed past him, out of the nest, out of the nursery. He stumbled blindly across the camp, ignoring the grief-stricken mews of his Clanmates, seeing nothing but a blurred sea of pelts as he staggered toward his den.

  “I’m so sorry!” Fallowtail’s cry trailed after him.

  “Not the kits, too!”

  Crookedstar blocked out Graypool’s desperate wail as he burst into his den. Collapsing in his nest, he buried his nose in the moss. It smelled faintly of Willowbreeze. Swallowing back a yowl, he screwed his eyes shut. Whatever he did, he couldn’t escape his promise! He couldn’t take it back. I’m destined to lose every cat I care about! Memories swirled—tragedy after tragedy: Willowbreeze; his kits; Rainflower; Hailstar; Oakheart’s betrayal; Bluefur’s sacrifice. Mistyfoot and Stonefur don’t even know their real mother! His promise was a stone flung into the river, sending never-ending ripples not just through his life but through his Clan’s, through everything! All because of Mapleshade!

  Mapleshade! A growl rumbled deep in his throat. I’m coming for you, Mapleshade. He dived into sleep, willing it, wanting it, and woke in the Dark Forest.

  Mapleshade was watching him. “Crookedstar.” Her mew oozed with satisfaction.