Crookedstar's Promise

by Erin Hunter

  Shellheart was already organizing patrols beneath the willow when Crookedjaw padded out of the den. The RiverClan deputy beckoned him with a flick of his muzzle. Crookedjaw crossed the sunny clearing and nosed his way between Timberfur and Brightsky. Owlfur and Cedarpelt were fidgeting, eager to be out on such a fine morning. Mudfur was still yawning while Voleclaw picked mud from between his claws. Beetlenose was watching the tip of Petaldust’s tail flick back and forth, his eyes bright. Crookedjaw could tell he was fighting back the urge to pounce on it. He scanned the camp for Willowpaw, pricking his ears. Gentle snoring was coming from the apprentices’ den. Graypaw and Willowpaw were probably worn out after the Gathering and then the excitement of Shimmerpelt’s kitting.

  “Ottersplash moved to the nursery this morning,” Shellheart announced. “Which means we’re another warrior down. But the river’s full of fish, and still deep enough to keep the other Clans at bay.”

  “Unless they’ve learned to fly,” Voleclaw joked.

  Petaldust stifled a purr. “WindClan is more likely to learn how to fly than to swim. They hate water more than ThunderClan!”

  “Crookedjaw.” Shellheart nodded at his son. “Take Oakheart, Mudfur, Brightsky, and Voleclaw upstream and check the Twoleg bridge for WindClan scent. Timberfur will be leading a patrol to check the stepping-stones for any trace of ThunderClan.” I’m leading a patrol! Crookedjaw clawed at the ground.

  “And Crookedjaw?”

  Crookedjaw snapped to attention as Shellheart went on.

  “Check the Twoleg fence on your way back. See if that dog’s been straying again.”

  As Crookedjaw headed away, Shellheart called after him. “Be careful. If we didn’t manage to scare him last time, the dog may be out for revenge.”

  Crookedjaw poked his head into his den. Oakheart was cleaning stale moss from his nest. “Come on. We’ve got a mission.” He glanced at Whitefang. The warrior was still sound asleep in his nest; his whiskers were twitching furiously and he was chirruping like a nervous moorhen. “Should we wake him?”

  “And ruin his dream?” Oakheart shook his head. “What’s the mission?” He followed Crookedjaw outside.

  “We’re checking the bridge.” Mudfur, Voleclaw, and Brightsky were already waiting by the entrance. “And the Twoleg fence.” Graypaw was there, too, flicking her tail.

  “Can Graypaw come with us?” Brightsky called.

  “Of course.” Crookedjaw fluffed out his fur with importance. He ducked through the gap in the reeds and set a fast pace along the grass path. The sound of paws thrumming behind him filled him with joy. The sun was shining and a warm breeze wafted across the sparkling river. Crookedjaw had to fight to keep himself from purring out loud. He veered off the path, following the trail up through the alders and doubling back around the camp, keeping up the pace until the patrol swerved back down to meet the river again. The shore was sandy on the edge of the marsh and soft on his paws. His pads sprayed dirt behind him as he slowed and the patrol fanned out around him. Walking now, Crookedjaw led the way upstream.

  Graypaw scampered through the shallows. “Can we fish?”

  Oakheart shrugged. “If you want to carry what you catch for the rest of the morning.”

  Graypaw sighed. “We could eat it now,” she mewed hopefully. “Just a little minnow wouldn’t be breaking the warrior code, would it?”

  “Yes, it would,” Mudfur answered sternly. “Besides, we should check the bridge. Then look for the dog.”

  Graypaw bounded ahead, her tail swishing. As they rounded a bend in the river, Crookedjaw glimpsed the Twoleg bridge. Trees crowded the bank beyond it. Their leaves whispered in the breeze. They could fish from there and eat, shaded from the hot sun.

  “Wait.” He signaled to the patrol with his tail and called Graypaw back. They were approaching the path that crossed the bridge. “Can anyone detect Twolegs?”

  Brightsky was already tasting the air. “The wind’s blowing upstream.”

  Mudfur pricked his ears. “I can’t hear anything.”

  Crookedjaw stalked forward, keeping low. “Follow me.” He crept up the bank where the legs of the bridge dug into the shore and padded on to the wooden pathway. The river splashed beneath as he sniffed the warm timber. His Clanmates crept after him, padding from side to side of the bridge and checking for scents.

  “Come back!” Brightsky’s alarmed call made Crookedjaw look up. Graypaw had crossed the bridge and was sniffing the bank on the far side.

  “But it’s our territory!” Graypaw called back. “Right up to the waterfall!”

  A growl rumbled in Brightsky’s throat. “I don’t know why Fallowtail didn’t raise that kit to do as she’s told!”

  Mudfur purred. “Apprentices never do as they’re told.” His eyes sparkled as he glanced at Crookedjaw. “Do they?”

  Crookedjaw whisked his tail. “Only fish-brains follow rules without question!” With a lurch, he suddenly realized that Oakheart had dropped into a crouch and was growling.

  “What?” Crookedjaw followed his brother’s gaze and felt his hackles lift.

  A flash of white showed between the trees on the other shore. Then a flash of red. Then green and blue.

  “Twolegs!” Crookedjaw froze, heart racing. Twoleg kits were scampering between the trees on the other side of the bridge, only a few tail-lengths from Graypaw.

  Brightsky had already darted forward, hissing to her apprentice. “Run!”

  Graypaw was staring at the Twoleg kits, her fur bushed up, eyes glittering.

  “Run!” Mudfur yowled.

  The kits turned. With a whoop, they spotted Graypaw.

  Crookedjaw’s heart rose in his throat. “Run!”

  The dumb ’paw was rooted to the spot. Crookedjaw charged forward, darting past Brightsky. “Come on!”

  The bridge trembled as she dashed after him. One of the Twoleg kits was holding out a paw. Graypaw stared at it, stiff with terror. Crookedjaw raced between the Twoleg kit’s paws, spitting with fury. The Twoleg yelped and hopped away. Brightsky raced past Graypaw, grasping her scruff and dragging her along until the apprentice squealed and struggled free.

  “Run!” Brightsky yowled.

  Shaken from her moment of terror, Graypaw hurtled back across the bridge. Brightsky pelted after her. Crookedjaw ducked back past the Twoleg. With a jolt of horror, he felt its paws grasp his pelt. Struggling wildly, he broke free, yowling with pain as the Twoleg ripped out a clump of fur. His paws slipped on the wood as he hit the bridge. Unsheathing his claws, he dug them deep and pushed hard. He crossed the bridge in two breaths.

  “Come on!” he called to his patrol as he raced past them. Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure his Clanmates were following, then leaped on to the shore. He slowed to let them pass and fell in behind as they raced downstream. There was no way he was going to let any of them out of his sight till they were back in the safety of camp.

  The cries of the Twoleg kits faded as they neared camp. Spotting the reed bed, Crookedjaw slowed. His lungs were splitting. He slowed to a stop and hung his head, gulping air. Brightsky pulled up, too, alongside Oakheart and Mudfur. Graypaw kept running until she reached the reed bed and she plunged in, splashing through the river as she pushed her way home.

  Brightsky watched her go. “Don’t worry,” she mewed. “She’s a strong swimmer.”

  Crookedjaw nodded, too winded to speak.

  Oakheart was still bristling and Mudfur paced, catching his breath and letting his pelt smooth. As they slowly recovered, paw steps sounded beside the shore. Crookedjaw looked up the bank as Graypaw led Hailstar and Echomist out of the marsh grass.

  Hailstar’s fur was pricking. “Graypaw told us what happened.”

  Fallowtail pressed her cheek to Crookedjaw’s. “Thank you for saving my kit,” she whispered.

  Crookedjaw twitched. “She could have done more to save herself,” he muttered as he followed the she-cat into the clearing.

  It looked like the whole Clan
was waiting for them, their eyes bright with worry. Graypaw had clearly told them about her near-capture.

  “Why can’t Twolegs stay on their own territory?” Troutclaw protested. “When I was a kit, we hardly ever saw one. Now they’re here every greenleaf, making a nuisance of themselves.”

  Hailstar shook his head. “It’s just the way it is,” he sighed. “We must be more cautious.”

  Echomist wrapped her tail over Graypaw. “Perhaps we should shrink our borders, just while the Twolegs are around?”

  “Shrink our borders!” Whitefang was awake now and spitting with anger. “Why should we? We’re not scared of Twolegs!”

  Crookedjaw paced beside the reed bed lashing his tail. I’m not scared of anything that threatens my Clan!

  Chapter 21

  “Brambleberry!” Mudfur yowled as he hurried past the reed bed.

  Crookedjaw hauled himself out of the river, water streaming from his pelt. He tipped his head on one side. The brown warrior’s call had been edged with worry.

  Brambleberry poked her head out of her den. “Is Brightsky still uncomfortable?”

  Mudfur’s tail trembled. “She keeps saying she’s thirsty and then she won’t drink.”

  Brambleberry ducked back into her den. “Wait there.”

  Crookedjaw knew they were worried about Brightsky. She’d moved to the nursery half a moon ago, expecting Mudfur’s kits. But fever had struck and she’d been sick for days. Crookedjaw picked his way across camp. The clearing was littered with his Clanmates stretched out in the bright sunshine, too sleepy to move. It was pointless hunting with the sun so high. It was too hot to eat and any fish caught now would be stinking by evening. Even the reeds were drooping under the scorching greenleaf sun.

  Crookedjaw hopped over Rippleclaw, who was fast asleep, and landed beside Graypaw. The gray apprentice was huddled in the shade of the fallen tree. “Where’s Willowpaw?”

  “She’s out training with Owlfur.” Graypaw gazed wistfully at the nursery. “I shouldn’t have crossed the bridge.” She tucked her tail tighter. “Then Brightsky wouldn’t have had to rescue me.”

  “That didn’t make her ill,” Crookedjaw reassured her. “She knew she was expecting kits. It was her choice to carry on with her warrior duties as long as possible.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” Graypaw sighed. “I would have come back when she told me.”

  Are you sure? Crookedjaw bit his tongue, remembering his own days as an apprentice. “When are her kits due?”

  “Claw-moon.”

  “That soon?” Crookedjaw was surprised. It was only a few days away. “She’ll be fine,” he meowed.

  Rippleclaw lifted his head and looked at Graypaw, sympathy lighting his gaze. “Are you still worrying about Brightsky?” He got sleepily to his paws. “Can’t Piketooth take you training?” Piketooth had been made Graypaw’s mentor when Brightsky had moved to the nursery. “It’ll take your mind off things.” Rippleclaw glanced across the clearing to where Piketooth and Voleclaw were playing moss-ball with Sunkit and Frogkit. “I could teach you some moves while he’s busy.”

  Graypaw blinked gratefully at the black-and-silver warrior. “Yes, please.”

  Rippleclaw led Graypaw to a shaded spot at the edge of the clearing and started showing her a battle crouch. The sedge rustled as Brambleberry nosed her way from her den. With a bundle of herbs clasped in her jaws, she led Mudfur across the clearing and into the nursery.

  Crookedjaw closed his eyes. Please, StarClan, make Brightsky healthy again. A bundle of dark gray fur darted between his paws and pressed against his belly.

  “Hide me!” Blackkit squeaked. “Don’t tell them where I am.”

  Crookedjaw stifled a purr and drew his forepaws closer together. Skykit was leading the search party. Ottersplash’s kits, less than half a moon old, were following her as though she were Clan leader.

  “Can you see him?” Loudkit mewed, his dark brown pelt pricking.

  “What if he fell in the river?” Reedkit fretted.

  “Don’t be silly!” Sedgekit rolled her eyes at her brother. “The warriors would be rushing around flapping like herons if he’d fallen in the river!”

  “He’s not here.” Skykit sniffed her way around the sedge wall.

  “Wait!” Loudkit tasted the air. “I can smell him.”

  “Where?” Reedkit fluffed out his long, stiff tail. He darted past Skykit, nose to the ground, and sniffed his way between the lounging warriors, heading for Crookedjaw.

  “Watch out,” Crookedjaw whispered to the wriggling bundle beneath his belly. “I think they’ve found you.” He jumped out of the way as the kit patrol launched itself at him. They dived onto Blackkit, squeaking with triumph.

  “Found you! Found you!” Loudkit crowed.

  “Now it’s my turn to hide,” Sedgekit squeaked.

  Skykit flicked her brown tabby tail. “I want to play something different.” She glanced at Piketooth. He tossed the moss ball high over Sunkit’s and Frogkit’s heads. They leaped to reach it, but Voleclaw raised a paw and plucked it from the air. “I want to play that.” Skykit scampered away, her patrol following.

  Whitefang grumbled as they clambered over him, and Troutclaw opened an eye and flicked his tail out of the way.

  “StarClan bless them.” Birdsong dragged her gaze from the kits and called to Crookedjaw. “Is Shellheart back yet?”

  Shellheart was leading Beetlenose, Petaldust, Cedarpelt, and Timberfur on border patrol. They’d been out since sunhigh.

  “Not yet.” Crookedjaw shrugged. “They’ll be back soon unless they’ve found somewhere shady to rest.”

  “I don’t know why they bother.” Troutclaw sat up. “There’s hardly any border left for them to patrol.”

  Whitefang heaved himself to his paws and shook out his white pelt. “Has Hailstar decided when we will re-mark Sunningrocks?” He glanced toward the leader’s den, hidden in shade under the roots of the willow.

  Lakeshine lifted her gray-and-white head. She was lying beside the nursery with Shimmerpelt and Ottersplash. “It’s too hot to talk about battles.”

  Willow leaves fluttered as Oakheart jumped down from the lowest branch. “It’s never too hot to talk about battles.” He padded across the clearing. “Hailstar said claw-moon, which is any day now.” He glanced up to the wide blue sky. “The moon was no more than a sliver of trout skin last night.”

  Rainflower stretched. “He isn’t planning a battle,” she reminded them. “He just wants to restore the proper boundary.”

  Crookedjaw scratched an itch behind his ear. “I’m ready whenever Hailstar decides.”

  Piketooth looked up from his game with the kits. “I hope I’m in the patrol,” he meowed. Every warrior wanted a chance to leave his or her scent.

  “Me too!” Rippleclaw was adjusting Graypaw’s crouch with a paw. “Just reach a little farther,” he advised. “And you’ll have it perfect.”

  Piketooth glanced at his apprentice. “Sorry, kits. Game’s over. I have to train Graypaw now.”

  Sunkit’s tail drooped.

  Frogkit leaped on to Piketooth’s tail. “Don’t go!”

  Sedgekit raced around him. “Can we come?”

  Loudkit leaped on his sister, tumbling her to the ground. “You can’t even swim!”

  “Neither can you!” Sedgekit pushed him off.

  “Stay away from the water!” Piketooth leaped over the squabbling kits, beckoning Graypaw with his tail. “Do you want to practice fishing?” he asked her as she followed him out of the camp.

  Crookedjaw leaned down to wash his damp belly. Tiny paws scurried toward him.

  “Attack!” A flurry of tails, paws, and noses battered his flank. Crookedjaw staggered dramatically and fell on to his side. “You’ve killed me!” he groaned as the kits swarmed over him.

  Paw steps padded into camp.

  “The patrol’s back!” Skykit squeaked.

  Crookedjaw looked up to see Shellheart, Cedarpelt, Bee
tlenose, and Petaldust staring at him, whiskers twitching with amusement.

  “Has Lakeshine made you leader of the nursery?” Shellheart teased.

  Crookedjaw jumped to his paws, wincing as Skykit and Frogkit stuck in their claws and hung on like burrs.

  “Sorry, Crookedjaw,” Cedarpelt purred. “I forgot to teach you how to fight off kits!”

  “Let me help.” Beetlenose rolled a clump of moss between his paws and tossed it across the clearing. The kits squeaked with delight and darted after it like a shoal of minnows.

  “Thanks.” As Crookedjaw followed Shellheart into the shade of the willow, the branches at the entrance to Hailstar’s den shivered.

  “You’re back.” Hailstar padded into the clearing, his pelt shining in the sun. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words.”

  “Loudkit! Sedgekit! Reedkit!” Ottersplash called to her kits. “Come out of the way.” Dragging their paws, the kits headed toward their mother.

  “And you two!” Shimmerpelt called to Skykit and Blackkit.

  Frogkit and Sunkit ducked behind Beetlenose, but the black warrior nosed them toward the nursery. “But we can swim!” Frogkit complained.

  “Really?” Beetlenose picked Frogkit up by his scruff and dangled him over the edge of the river.

  Lakeshine jumped to her paws. “No!” she shrilled. “Put him down! He’ll drown!”

  Beetlenose purred. “Don’t panic.” He dropped the wriggling kit at his mother’s paws. “I’ll teach you to swim as soon as your mother says you’re ready,” he promised.

  “I’d rather be taught to swim by a snake,” Crookedjaw muttered as Oakheart joined him at the edge of the clearing.

  Oakheart didn’t answer. His attention was fixed on Hailstar. “I bet he’s going to announce the retaking of Sunningrocks.”

  Crookedjaw flexed his claws. “Good.”

  Timberfur paced the edge of the clearing. “At least you already know you’ll be part of the patrol.”

  Hailstar waited for the Clan to settle, then lifted his muzzle. “We re-mark the Sunningrocks boundary tonight.”