Crookedstar’s Promise

“Hailstar!” Mudfur’s call interrupted them.

Brambleberry was wrapping cobwebs around the injured warrior’s hind leg. “Hold still! Do you want to fall apart next time you go into battle?”

“That won’t happen,” Mudfur meowed calmly. “I don’t want to be a warrior anymore.”

What?

Tanglewhisker and Troutclaw turned back from the bottom of the slope, ears pricking. Timberfur paused from sorting through the fresh-kill pile and glanced over. He beckoned Rippleclaw and Owlfur with his tail.

Hailstar blinked. He was still sitting under the willow tree, watching his Clanmates drift back to their duties. “Really, Mudfur? But you’re too young to move to the elders’ den. You didn’t become a ’paw till after me.”

Mudfur shook his head. “I don’t want to become an elder,” he explained. “I want to be a medicine cat.”

Brambleberry sat back on her haunches, cobweb trailing from her paw. “A medicine cat?”

Mudfur dipped his head. “If you’re willing to train me.”

Brambleberry stood. “I was hoping one of the ’paws would take an interest,” she admitted. “There’s always so much to do, I could use an apprentice.”

Hailstar stared at his old friend. “Are you sure about this?” The fur twitched along his spine.

Mudfur held his gaze. “I’ve lost the taste for battle. I’m no use to my Clan as a warrior now.”

“But you fought for the whole Clan this morning.”

“I fought to save them from fighting,” Mudfur meowed. “But they want to fight.” He sighed. “I’ve unsheathed my claws too many times.” He turned to Brambleberry. “I want to save lives, not destroy them.”

Brightsky. Crookedjaw guessed the warrior was still mourning his mate. Watching her die, he must have felt as powerless as I did on Sunningrocks today.

Softwing leaned toward Timberfur. “Can he do that? Change his mind about what he wants to be?”

Timberfur shrugged. “I don’t know. It hasn’t happened in RiverClan before, as far as I know.”

“He trained as a warrior!” Beetlenose was frowning.

Hailstar met the young tom’s gaze. “And he’s served his Clan well. Now, if he wishes, he can train as a medicine cat and serve his Clan in a different way.”

“Thank you.” Mudfur nodded and began to pad away.

“Wait.” Shellheart stopped him. “I have an announcement to make, too.”

Crookedjaw tensed. What now?

“I wish to move to the elders’ den.”

Hailstar blinked, startled.

Rippleclaw darted forward. “What in the name of StarClan is going on? Is every warrior deserting us?”

Mudfur weaved around Shellheart. “We’re not deserting anyone. Hailstar will choose another deputy, as brave and loyal as Shellheart. RiverClan is like the river. Always flowing, yet never changing.”

Hailstar sat down, suddenly looking old. “Shellheart, I respect your decision. You have spent many seasons serving your Clan. Of course you may join the elders.”

Wasn’t the RiverClan leader going to argue? Crookedjaw stared at his father. Why hadn’t Shellheart warned him? Did Oakheart know?

Shellheart dipped his head. “Thank you, Hailstar,” he mewed formally. “A younger deputy will make RiverClan stronger.”

Willowbreeze brushed against Crookedjaw. “Your father has to do what he thinks is right.”

But what if he’s wrong?

“He’s been looking thin and tired for a while,” she went on.

Has he?

“I thought you’d noticed.” Willowbreeze wrapped her tail around him.

Crookedjaw felt sick. “Is he ill?”

Willowbreeze shrugged. “Probably just slowing down.”

Tanglewhisker padded forward and nudged Shellheart. “There’s plenty of room in the den,” he croaked.

Troutclaw beckoned the old deputy with his tail. “Come and see.” He limped toward the slope, his hind leg refusing to bend properly as usual. “You’re going to have to get used to Birdsong snoring, mind you.”

“I think I can cope with that,” Shellheart purred as he followed his new denmates.

“Timberfur, Rippleclaw, Owlfur, Ottersplash, Piketooth, Cedarpelt.” Hailstar called to his senior warriors. “Come. I need to hear your advice before I decide who’s to be the next deputy.” He turned and headed to his den.

“Crookedjaw! Crookedjaw!” Sedgepaw was hurtling across the clearing.

Crookedjaw jumped to his paws.

“Troutclaw says there’s going to be a new deputy! And Mudfur’s going to be a medicine cat.” Sedgepaw rolled her eyes. “Why does all the good stuff happen when I’m in dirtplace?”

Voleclaw padded past. “I wouldn’t call it good stuff,” he muttered.

“Oh.” Sedgepaw sat down.

Willowbreeze touched the young she-cat lightly with her muzzle. “Change is difficult,” she meowed. “But it’ll be okay.” She gazed at Crookedjaw and he guessed the words were meant more for him than Sedgepaw.

Reedpaw and Loudpaw were bundling toward their littermate. “Has he told you yet?” Loudpaw demanded.

“I haven’t asked,” Sedgepaw mewed.

“Then I will!” Reedpaw plucked at the ground. “What was the fight with Adderfang like?”

“Did Mudfur totally shred him?” Loudpaw couldn’t keep still. “I’m going to fight like that one day.”