Crookedstar’s Promise

Crookedjaw hared after it. Squirrels rarely strayed this side of the river. It raced fast as lightning over the grass. Crookedjaw jumped, soaring through the air, and landed on top of the squirrel. With a bite, he killed it.

Sedgepaw came puffing up behind him. “You got it!” She’d dropped her finch. “I’ve never tasted squirrel!”

“It’s not bad for land prey.” Crookedjaw sniffed it, enjoying the warm, musky scent; it couldn’t be more different from fish and he wasn’t sure the older warriors would approve. But thinking about his time with the farm cats had reminded him of the squirrels they had caught in the hedges, and he wanted to bask in his memories for a little longer.

As slender reed shadows lengthened across the clearing, Willowbreeze stretched. “They must have decided by now.” She glanced at the huddle of senior warriors below the willow. “The sun’s nearly set.”

Crookedjaw shrugged. “They’ve got till moonhigh.” He’d been trying not to think about who would replace his father. He wanted to be deputy more than anything in the world, but surely it was too soon for him? He hadn’t even finished training Sedgepaw and there were plenty of warriors with more experience. Even Oakheart had more experience. Anxiety flared in his belly. Hailstar wouldn’t choose Oakheart, would he? He had asked him to speak at the Gathering. He pushed away the thought.

Willowbreeze purred.

“What?”

“Sedgepaw’s been staring at her finch for ages.”

Sedgepaw sat outside the apprentices’ den, eyes fixed on the fresh-kill pile.

Crookedjaw’s whiskers twitched. “She’s wondering who’ll choose it.”

“Doesn’t she want to eat it?”

“I think she likes the thought of feeding her Clan.” He moved closer to Willowbreeze. “It’s her first catch.”

“You told me.”

“I was starting to think she’d never get the hang of it.”

“Land prey’s never easy.” Willowbreeze yawned. “Your squirrel looks impressive.”

It hung over the pile of fish that Shimmerpelt and Lakeshine had caught. Crookedjaw shrugged. “I don’t know who’ll eat it.”

“I think Graypool’s got her eye on it.”

Crookedjaw didn’t reply. Hailstar was walking into the middle of the camp. Rippleclaw and Timberfur followed, with Ottersplash, Owlfur, and Cedarpelt at their heels. Crookedjaw sat up. Dens rustled and fur brushed the ground as the Clan padded from dens and eating places to hear their leader.

Hailstar shook his head, forestalling any questions. “We haven’t decided yet,” he meowed. He sounded tired.

Echomist swished her tail. “You must be hungry.” She nodded at the fresh-kill pile. “There’s plenty to eat.”

“Good.” Hailstar licked his lips. “We’ll decide after we’ve all had a chance to eat.”

He headed toward the fresh-kill pile. As he neared it, he froze. The fur lifted along his spine. “Brambleberry!” he yowled, keeping his eyes fixed on the pile of prey.

Crookedjaw darted across the clearing. For a wild moment he wondered if the sight of a squirrel among the fish had startled the old leader. Brambleberry shot from her den and skidded to a halt beside Hailstar. She followed his gaze, her pelt spiking up.

“What does this mean?” Hailstar whispered.

Crookedjaw stared at the prey on the fresh-kill pile. The jaws of the squirrel had been wrenched wide and hung open, dangling by sinews so that its mouth gaped unnaturally. Its broken, twisted face seemed to stare out at the horrified cats.

“That was Crookedjaw’s prey,” Echomist breathed.

Hailstar sniffed at the pile, then looked up. “It’s an omen!” he growled, his eyes flashing. His gaze swung to Crookedjaw. “It’s you!” he growled. “You are the new RiverClan deputy!”

Chapter 32

Birdsong pushed her way through the stunned cats. “He’s too young!”

“He’s been a warrior for moons!” Willowbreeze retorted.

Hailstar silenced them with a look. “StarClan knows best.” He dipped his head to Crookedjaw. His voice was flat. “I cannot change the will of our ancestors.”

Crookedjaw felt ghostly fur slide around his flanks. The scent of Mapleshade hung in the air. Had she left the omen? His heart soared. It truly was an omen from StarClan.

“Go to Hailstar!” Willowbreeze nudged Crookedjaw forward. “Go and accept! Tell him you want to be deputy.”

Sedgepaw blocked his path. “I’m going to be the deputy’s apprentice.” She puffed out her chest.

Voleclaw nodded to Crookedjaw. “Well done!”

Beetlenose sniffed. “Who’d believe you were once the smallest kit in the nursery?”

“Now he’s the biggest cat in the Clan,” Cedarpelt purred. “Congratulations, Crookedjaw. You deserve it.”

Do I? Crookedjaw stared numbly at his Clanmates.

“He doesn’t have any experience,” Troutclaw whispered to Birdsong.

Timberfur’s tail was twitching. “He’s only fought in one real battle.”

Shimmerpelt was staring at the fresh-kill pile. “Are we allowed to eat an omen or should we catch more fish?”

Graypool slid past her. “Why not ask our new deputy?” Her eyes glinted. “Congratulations.”