by Erin Hunter
“Not bad,” Crookedjaw meowed.
Oakheart headed on to catch up with Loudpaw, who was racing Reedpaw up and down the shore while Beetlenose padded steadily on.
“When will I learn to catch a fish?” Sedgepaw hopped down the bank and joined Crookedjaw. “What’s the best fish to catch? What was your first fish?”
Crookedjaw’s head was spinning. “Slow down,” he meowed.
“Sorry!” Sedgepaw flattened her ears. “I know I talk too much but I just want to be the best apprentice. I’m so glad you’re my mentor. You’re the strongest cat in RiverClan, except Rippleclaw, but he’s old—not an elder or anything—but you’re younger and you remember what it’s like to be a ’paw. And I’m going to listen to everything you tell me—”
Crookedjaw felt a twinge of guilt. He’d never been this enthusiastic with Cedarpelt. He’d valued his mentor’s training; it had been useful. But it was Mapleshade who’d taught him the most about courage and skill in battle. He gazed at Sedgepaw. She was still chattering like a blackbird. Would she have a StarClan mentor, too?
No. Surely there wasn’t room in the Clan for more than one warrior with a great destiny?
Crookedjaw yawned. Most of the Clan had gone to their nests for the night. The moss draping Hailstar’s entrance twitched behind him as the RiverClan leader disappeared for the night. Ottersplash, Lakeshine, and Shimmerpelt were shaking the dusty moss from their nests. The elders were murmuring in their den.
The wind had already dropped and the night was silent and still.
Willowbreeze nudged him toward their den. “Let’s go to sleep.”
Curled in their nest, Crookedjaw closed his eyes. Willowbreeze wriggled closer, tucking her nose into his fur. Crookedjaw sighed happily. I’m a mentor. There was nothing to stop him from becoming deputy now. Purring, he drifted into sleep.
“So you’re a mentor.” Mapleshade’s rasping mew woke him into a dream. The forest loomed dark around him.
He puffed out his chest. “Yes.”
“With an apprentice of your own.” Her amber eyes glowed. “Do you think you’ve got nothing left to learn?”
“No!” Crookedjaw gasped. “I know I’m not ready to be leader. I’m not even ready to be deputy!” Didn’t she realize how relieved he was to see her again? It had been such a long time since he’d dreamed of her. He was worried he was losing his edge over the other warriors in the Clan. Beetlenose had caught more fish than him yesterday. “I want you to teach me everything you know. I want to become the best leader I can. My Clan deserves that.”
Mapleshade narrowed her eyes. “Good,” she murmured. “You’re still worthy of my teaching.” She circled him, her gaze unwavering.
“Look!” Crookedjaw ran, leaped, and twisted in the air, kicking out with his hind legs and jabbing with his forepaws. He landed skillfully on all four paws. He’d been practicing the move since he’d seen Thistleclaw do it. He was sure he’d gotten it right.
“Not bad, I suppose,” she conceded.
“Not bad?” He stared at her. It was brilliant.
“Tell me your promise,” she demanded.
“Again?”
“Tell me that there’s nothing as important as looking after your Clan, no matter what it costs you!” Her eyes burned.
Crookedjaw frowned. “Okay.” He gritted his teeth. “There’s nothing as important as looking after my—”
“Say it like you really mean it!” Mapleshade thrust her face into his.
Straightening, Crookedjaw tried again. “There’s nothing as important as looking after my Clan, no matter what it costs me!” he meowed loudly.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” His ear twitched. Why did she keep insisting he promised over and over again? And was this promise the reason Mapleshade had led the Twolegs to Willowbreeze?
Chapter 29
Greenleaf had taken hold. The sun shone from a wide blue sky and the beech copse swayed in the breeze. Sedgepaw crouched beneath the whispering leaves, chest pressed to the grass.
“Quietly now.” Crookedjaw dropped a leaf a tail-length in front of her. “Pretend this is a bird. It has better hearing than you. It’s faster than you.” He leaned closer. “And it’s much more frightened than you.”
Sedgepaw narrowed her eyes. She pulled herself forward, silent as a snake. Good. Crookedjaw willed her on. One paw at a time, she crept up on the leaf. Then, in a sudden flurry of paws, she jumped.
“Did I get it? Did I get it?” she squeaked.
Crookedjaw’s heart sank. She’d landed half a tail-length past it.
Oakheart shrugged. “It was a good try.”
“You could do better, though.” Beetlenose padded from the trees, while Reedpaw and Loudpaw snuffled with amusement behind him. He silenced them with a flick of his tail. “Sedgepaw,” he meowed gently. “You’ve got a lot of strength in your hind legs.” He glanced at Crookedjaw, making sure that it was okay to offer advice to his apprentice.
Crookedjaw nodded. “Go ahead.” He could use all the help he could get with Sedgepaw. She had so much enthusiasm; it was painful watching her fail at every task by a whisker.
Beetlenose hooked the leaf in his paw. “You need to adjust your jump to take all that strength into account.” He dropped the leaf in front of her. “Don’t push so hard and keep your eye on your target.”
Sedgepaw crouched again. “I’ll get it this time.”
“If it doesn’t get you first,” Reedpaw teased.
Sedgepaw wriggled her hindquarters and jumped. She landed square on top of the leaf and sat up, ears twitching as she stared at the ground around her. “Where did it go? Did I miss it again?”
Reedpaw rolled his eyes. “Can we go fishing now?” he mewed. “It’s getting hot.”
“You need to learn how to hunt birds as well as fish,” Crookedjaw reminded him.
Loudpaw sniffed. “I want to learn battle moves. We need to win back Sunningrocks!” ThunderClan had reset the scent markers, making Sunningrocks theirs again just after leaf-fall, and Hailstar had refused to risk lives seizing it back during the hardest moons.
Oakheart sighed. “Perhaps we should just give ThunderClan leaf-bare hunting rights there,” he suggested. “That’s always when they take it. They must need the prey.”
“What?” Beetlenose stared at him. “They’ll take over our whole territory if we start making promises like that.”
“Yeah!” Reedpaw lined up beside his mentor. “They’ve got a whole forest! If they can’t find enough prey they must be bad hunters.”
Crookedjaw flicked the end of his tail. “Shellheart’s been trying to persuade Hailstar to reclaim Sunningrocks for a moon. I don’t know why he’s hesitating. It was easy last time.”
Loudpaw ripped at the grass. “Are we going to learn battle moves or not?”
Sedgepaw flattened her ears. “My shoulder’s still sore from last time we tried.”
“You should move quicker,” Reedpaw snapped.
“I move quicker than you!” Sedgepaw retorted.
Yes, but always in the wrong direction. Crookedjaw swallowed back a sigh. He padded to the edge of the beech copse and looked across the meadow. “Let’s try some of the moves Oakheart invented for distracting Twolegs.” Sedgepaw could practice her hunting skills later, when Loudpaw and Reedpaw weren’t around to tease her.
Reedpaw pricked his ears. “Do you mean the ones where we lure them away from camp?” He collapsed into a convincing limp, moaning like an injured kittypet and dragged his hind legs over the grass. “Help me, help me. I’m hurt!”
“Great!” Oakheart pointed at Loudpaw. “Now, what should you be doing?”
Loudpaw hesitated.
“I know! I know!” Sedgepaw was bouncing with excitement. “We race back to camp as fast as we can and hide the elders and kits in the reeds or carry them downriver.”
“Exactly!” Oakheart glanced at the slender beech trees. “Let’s try climbing.”
Beetlenos
e coughed in surprise. “Tree climbing?”
Oakheart hopped over a jutting root. “It’s the best place to watch for Twolegs.” He unsheathed his claws. “Remember how Echomist spotted those Twolegs bringing their dog through the marsh last moon?”
Sedgepaw bristled. “It was the first dog I’d ever seen.”
Crookedjaw smoothed her fur with his tail. “It could have found the camp if Echomist hadn’t spotted it and lured it away.”
“Okay.” Beetlenose padded to the base of a trunk. “We’ll practice tree climbing.” He beckoned Reedpaw closer. “You go up first. I’ll be on your tail.”
Reedpaw raced to the tree and squatted between its roots. With a grunt, he jumped and grabbed hold of the trunk, then hauled himself up till he reached the lowest branch. He wobbled and clung on as it shivered beneath him.
“Your turn.” Crookedjaw picked out another beech and nudged Sedgepaw forward.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Really?”
“You can do it,” Crookedjaw encouraged. “Keep your claws out and you’ll be fine.”
She leaped and hung on to the bark.
“Go on!” Crookedjaw urged. “Remember how you could climb up my back in three hops when you were a kit?” He remembered her spiky claws with a wince.
Sedgepaw pulled herself up, gaining confidence with each jump until she was scooting up the tree like a squirrel.
“That’s great!” Crookedjaw climbed after her, his claws sinking easily into the soft greenleaf bark. He paused and leaned back. Peering up through the fluttering leaves, he could just make out Sedgepaw’s tabby pelt among the branches. “Stop on the next branch,” he called.
“Okay.” Her mew sounded a long way off.
“I hope she hasn’t gone too high,” Crookedjaw muttered.
“It’s okay,” Beetlenose called from a branch of the next tree. “I can see her. There’s plenty of branch for her to hang on to.”
Reedpaw crouched next to his mentor. “Can I climb that high?”
“No.”
Oakheart was still on the ground, trying to persuade Loudpaw to climb.
“But I’m a RiverClan cat!” Loudpaw complained. “We’re not supposed to climb; we’re supposed to swim!”
“We need to learn new skills,” Oakheart coaxed. “You’ve got claws strong enough to fight. They’ll be strong enough to climb.”
“Crookedjaw!” Sedgepaw suddenly wailed from above.
He looked up, pelt pricking. “Are you okay?”
“Crookedjaw!” she wailed again.
Oh, StarClan! Panicking, Crookedjaw scrambled higher. “I’m coming!” Had she climbed too high and lost her nerve? Perhaps she’d found a bee’s nest and got stung? Please don’t fall! The ground was hidden below leaves and branches, far below.
“I can see a dog!” Sedgepaw’s wail was suddenly clear. “It’s huge!” Leaves fluttered down around Crookedjaw. “It’s heading this way.”
Crookedjaw’s fur bushed up. The camp! He peered out through the branches. The meadow stretched far below them. Then he saw it. A wide brown shape swerving through the sedge like a fish slipping through river weed. He opened his mouth. Dog-scent bathed his tongue. He glanced back toward the camp. It was well hidden by willow and reeds, but if the dog kept charging this way, he’d burst straight through it. Thinking fast, Crookedjaw scrambled down the tree.
“Stay up there!” he yowled to Sedgepaw. “Don’t come down till I tell you!”
“Did you see it?” Beetlenose was flat against the branch of his tree, ears pricked.
“Yes,” Crookedjaw told him. “Heading this way. We have to lure him away from the camp.”
“What about the apprentices?”
“Tell Reedpaw to stay in the tree.”
Reedpaw was clinging to the next branch. “Can’t we help?”
Crookedjaw hissed. “You’re too small.” There was no time for argument. He dropped to the ground.
Oakheart was still trying to persuade Loudpaw to make his first jump.
“Get him up there,” Crookedjaw ordered. “Fast! There’s a dog heading this way. It’s a big one, too fast for apprentices to outrun. We need to steer it away from the camp.”
Loudpaw scrabbled at the bark while Oakheart nudged him from behind. With a yelp of triumph, the brown apprentice hooked in his claws and began to grapple his way up the slippery trunk.
“Keep going!” Oakheart urged.
Loudpaw fought his way up till he reached a thick branch. With a grunt he threw himself on to it and clung with his forepaws.
Oakheart faced Crookedjaw. “Which way do we go?”
“Into the meadow to get its attention.” Crookedjaw flexed his claws.
Beetlenose was beside them. “Then?”
“We lead it uphill, away from the camp,” Crookedjaw decided. “Right out of our territory.” He stiffened. “One of us needs to get to the camp and warn them!”
“I’ll go!” Reedpaw slithered down the tree.
Beetlenose spun around. “I told you to stay where you were!”
But Reedpaw had already hared away, throwing up clawfuls of grass in his wake.
“He’s fast,” Beetlenose muttered. “He’ll make it.”
“Good.” Crookedjaw scanned the meadow. The dog was pounding closer. “Come on.” He pelted down the slope and dived through the long grass. The dog’s position was fixed in his mind. He raced toward it, seeing nothing but marsh grass. Oakheart was on his tail, Beetlenose at the rear. Swerving through the narrow channels between tussocks, Crookedjaw hurtled blindly on. He opened his mouth, his breath fast, and tasted dog-scent. It bathed his tongue. Heavy paws pounded ahead.
“Ready?” he called to his Clanmates.
As he skidded around a solid clump of grass, dog-stench filled his nose. The dog flashed black and bristling at the edge of his vision. He swerved and headed back toward the beeches. Oakheart’s pelt flickered through the grass beside him. He’d turned and was keeping pace. As Crookedjaw scanned the sedge for Beetlenose, a black pelt burst through a clump of spike-rush and shot past him, taking the lead. The dog yelped with excitement.
“Let’s take him around the top of the beech copse,” Beetlenose yowled.
“Is he following?” Crookedjaw screeched.
“Look behind you!”
Crookedjaw glanced over his shoulder and saw the dog a tail-length behind. It was huge, jaws slavering, teeth glinting. Its shoulders were wide and hard with muscle. Beetlenose pushed ahead and Crookedjaw pelted after him. The dog yowled and pounded more loudly on the ground.
Crookedjaw weaved, quicker on the turns than the dog. Fur spiked, he rounded the top of the beech copse. He prayed that Sedgepaw and Loudpaw had stayed put and that Reedpaw had made it to camp. The ground hardened underpaw as marsh gave way to willow trees. Bursting from the long grass, Crookedjaw saw Oakheart already zigzagging between the spindly trunks. Ferns loomed over them and hawthorn bushes grew in tangled clumps, making it impossible to run in a straight line. As Beetlenose’s paw steps thrummed behind him, Crookedjaw dug his claws against the springy earth and pushed harder. The dog tore the air with a howl as it charged out of the long grass.
“Split up!” Crookedjaw yowled.
Oakheart veered up the slope, Beetlenose shot straight ahead. Crookedjaw swerved toward the river, taking a path around the top of the camp. He glanced back and saw the dog thumping behind him. Flying past the camp, he skimmed a patch of withered bluebells. Blood roared in his ears as he weaved between the blurring trees. The dog thundered behind him, saliva flicking from his muzzle. Crookedjaw skidded on wet moss and lurched sideways, fighting to keep his footing. He could feel the dog’s sharp, hot breath on his tail. His lungs screamed, but terror drove him on.
The camp was behind them now. Crookedjaw swung sideways and headed downhill, hoping to gain speed. The dog tried to follow, but its clumsy paws slid on the grass and it crashed on to its side. Crookedjaw bounded down the slope. The river glittered thro
ugh the willows. If he could just make it to the water, he could catch his breath. The dog was back on its paws and pounding after him. With a grunt, Crookedjaw broke through the swath of ferns edging the bank and burst onto the shore.
Rainflower was standing among the rocks at the water’s edge, drinking from the river. She spun around, her eyes wide, and stared at him in horror.
“Dog!” Crookedjaw turned and raced back up the slope. The dog couldn’t be allowed to reach the shore. He spotted it hurtling toward the ferns and screeched to get its attention. The dog tried to turn when it saw him, but its weight carried it down through a long, skidding arc that crashed through the bushes onto the shore. A terrified shriek split the air.
Rainflower!
Crookedjaw whipped around, claws throwing up earth as he ran for the shore. He shot through the ferns in time to see his mother hit the water. The dog stopped, its eyes glittering with surprise, and glanced back at the cat thrashing among the rocky shallows. Its gaze lit up.
Crookedjaw growled and leaped for the dog. Slashing its nose, he turned and ran. The dog howled, rattling stones as it gave chase. Crookedjaw gulped for air as he hauled himself up the hill. He felt the ground shake beneath his paws. The dog was gaining on him.
Oakheart burst from the hawthorn ahead. “Go and save Rainflower!”
Beetlenose skidded out beside him. “We’ll take the dog!”
Crookedjaw dived into the prickly branches and crouched, trembling, as paws pounded away through the willows. Gasping, he struggled out of the bush and bounded downhill. He scrambled through the ferns and scanned the shore.
Rainflower?
His mother lay in the water, pressed by the current against a jagged rock while the river slid silently around her, tugging at her soft gray fur. Crookedjaw darted down the bank and splashed into the shallows. Leaning forward, he grabbed her scruff and dragged her from the water.
Leave her! Mapleshade’s scent enveloped him. Save your Clanmates!
The water drenching Rainflower’s pelt tasted of blood. She must have hit a rock when the dog knocked her into the river. With a jolt of horror, Crookedjaw realized her eyes were open and blank. He let her body fall on to the pebbles and backed away. I have to fetch Brambleberry!