Crookedstar’s Promise

Crookedjaw paced around the RiverClan leader. “We can catch some mice while we’re there.”

Sunfish darted out of her nest, ears pricking. “Did someone say hunting?”

“Hunting?” Softwing peered from the nursery. “Isn’t the river too fast?”

“We’re hunting mice,” Hailstar told her.

“I want to come!” Dawnkit tumbled out of the nursery and raced clear of her mother’s front paws. Her ginger-and-white fur was drenched in an instant.

“Dawnkit!” Softwing called crossly.

“How come she’s allowed out and I’m not?” Mallowkit squeaked indignantly from between her mother’s paws.

Hailstar headed for the gap in the reeds. “We’d better get going before we have the whole Clan trailing after us.”

Crookedjaw raced after him with Petaldust, Leopardfur, and Sedgecreek pounding at his heels. Rain rattled the beech copse and splattered on to the marsh. Crookedjaw screwed up his eyes against the downpour, relieved when he spotted the dog fence looming ahead of them. “Wait!” He signaled the patrol back with a flick of his tail while he sniffed along the bottom of the fence. “No fresh dog-scent,” he called back to his Clanmates. “It must hate rain more than we do.”

He slid under the fence. The sour tang of mud and wet grass bathed his tongue as the patrol crept past a horse, munching grass at the edge of the field. Crookedjaw felt exposed in the short grass and quickened the pace. Peering through the rain he saw a huge nest at the far side of the field. It rose squarely from behind a low gray wall, its black wooden sides dark and forbidding against the rain-filled sky. “Is that it?” he asked Hailstar.

Hailstar nodded. Crookedjaw darted forward, racing for the shelter of the low wall. As the patrol caught up, Petaldust tasted the air. “No fresh scents,” she reported.

Leopardfur sniffed. “I can’t taste anything but rain.”

“Wait there.” Hailstar jumped onto the wall and, keeping low, scanned the open space on the other side.

Crookedjaw sprang up beside him. Bare cream stone stretched from the wall to the barn, just like the yard at Fleck’s farm. “All clear?”

Hailstar nodded. Crookedjaw glanced down at Petaldust. “Come on.”

Sedgecreek was first over the wall.

“Be careful,” Crookedjaw whispered as she dropped to the ground below him. He hopped down after her, checking the yard warily as Hailstar led them over the knobbly stone. There was a small ragged hole in the bottom of the huge wooden barrier that blocked the entrance to the barn.

Hailstar slid through first. “All clear,” he whispered.

Leopardfur followed, Sedgecreek and Petaldust on his tail. Crookedjaw ducked in after them. Inside, the roof soared as high as Silverpelt. Dim light seeped in through slits in the walls and great shadows stretched across the smooth stone floor. Looming piles of golden dry grass were stacked at the edges.

“We’ll collect grass first,” Hailstar decided. “Then hunt.” He waved Crookedjaw and Sedgecreek toward one bundle and led Petaldust and Leopardfur toward another.

“It smells dusty,” Sedgecreek whispered. She gazed up at the far roof, her fur pricking along her spine. Then she sneezed.

Crookedjaw’s whiskers twitched. “Come on.” He led her to one of the huge grass bundles. Reaching up, he ripped out a clawful and rolled it around his paws before dropping it on the floor. Sedgecreek copied him and they worked quietly until they’d made a pile of fat, prickly bundles, smelling strongly of sunshine and dried leaves.

Crookedjaw dusted grass seed from his ears with a paw and peered into the shadows at the back of the barn. His pelt tingled. The smell of grass and mouse was stirring old memories. He dropped into a crouch. “Follow me,” he hissed to Sedgecreek.

Together they stalked past Hailstar, Petaldust, and Leopardfur, who were still busy bundling dried grass, and slipped into the shadows. Crookedjaw stilled Sedgecreek with a flick of his tail and pricked his ears. Tiny feet were scrabbling at the bottom of the wall. He nodded toward the sound but Sedgecreek was already creeping across the stones, her tail lifted a whisker off the ground, her belly taut.

Crookedjaw selected a wider angle of approach, coming in from the side as Sedgecreek closed in on her prey. Suddenly she pounced, springing forward with her forepaws outstretched. She missed—but the plump brown mouse fled straight toward Crookedjaw. He scooped it up as it shot past and gave it a quick killing bite.

“Very good.” Hailstar was sitting back on his haunches, with grass hanging from his paws. He rolled a final bundle and padded across the barn.

Sedgecreek was already crouching down, ready for her next catch.

Hailstar pricked his ears. “A big one!” His eyes widened with delight and he dropped down beside her.

Crookedjaw tasted the air.

He stiffened. That wasn’t mouse. That was rat! Fleck had taught him to be wary of rat-scent. One rat was okay. A swarm could be deadly. “Watch out!”