Crookedstar’s Promise

“What are you doing here?” Reedfeather’s eyes blazed on the shadowy path.

“We’re traveling to the Moonstone,” Crookedjaw told him.

Dawnstripe and Talltail flanked the WindClan deputy. Dawnstripe padded forward and pushed past Brambleberry.

Crookedjaw growled. “You must let us pass. I’m going to receive my nine lives.”

Reedfeather’s gaze sharpened, hard as flint. “Hailstar’s dead?” There was no grief in the tabby tom’s mew, but he signaled to his Clanmates with his tail. “Let them pass.” The WindClan patrol stood aside and let Crookedjaw and Brambleberry pass.

Beyond the moors, the Thunderpath was silent. They crossed it and headed along the tracks and paths of Twoleg territory. Beneath the glittering stars, they trekked on. Crookedjaw fought the ache in his wounds, pushing himself on though his legs were shaking with tiredness. They gave Fleck’s farm a wide berth. Crookedjaw had seen enough barns for one day, and they reached Highstones as the moon was still rising.

“We’ve made good time,” Brambleberry panted as they trudged up the slope toward Mothermouth.

Please give me my lives, Crookedjaw prayed as he followed her into the crow-black tunnel. He’d forgotten how cold it was. The icy tang of stone bathed his tongue. Last time he was here Willowpaw had been with him; it had been an adventure. This time he felt older than the moon. Who would be waiting for him at the Moonstone? Cats from StarClan, or cats from the Dark Forest?

“Brambleberry!” He could hear her pads scuffing the stone ahead, but he suddenly needed to hear her voice, to be sure that it was her he was following and not some other cat sent by Mapleshade.

“I’m here.”

Light flared in the tunnel ahead.

“Hurry!” she urged. “The moon’s already lit the stone!”

Heart racing, Crookedjaw dashed after her, blinking against the glare as they burst into the Moonstone chamber. He’d forgotten how high the roof soared above the floor and how beautiful the Moonstone was. It glittered with the light of countless stars.

“Go on, touch your nose against it.” Brambleberry nudged him forward.

Fear gripped his heart. “But who will be waiting for me?”

She blinked at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. She ducked away, leaving him alone in the cave.

Padding slowly forward, Crookedjaw closed his eyes. He crouched down and leaned forward till the tip of his muzzle touched the stone. He waited for light to flood through him, to be swept into the stars in a dazzling dream. Please!

He blinked open his eyes. He was standing in a huge, empty hollow. Shadows pressed at the edge of his vision. His heart tightened. The Dark Forest! They’ve come to claim me. His breathing quickened. He backed away, shaking his head, desperately trying to find a way out of the dream.

Silvery light began to spread from the top of the hollow, gathering speed as it spiraled down around him. It lit faces and pelts that sparkled with stars until the slopes were filled with countless cats staring down at him. Crookedjaw spun around, watching more and more faces light around him. He smelled the river and the forest and heather and pines—all Clans mingled as one, eyes blazing, pelts shimmering. Had the whole of the Dark Forest come to gloat? A gray pelt stirred from the mass and padded forward.

Hailstar!

“Welcome to StarClan.” Hailstar dipped his head. He looked young and strong, his pelt sleek, his eyes bright. “I’m proud of you, Crookedjaw,” he meowed. “You saved your Clanmates from the rats.”

“But not you.”

“It was my time to die.” The old RiverClan leader leaned toward him. “Now it’s your time to live.”

Crookedjaw bent his head, mouth dry. This wasn’t the Dark Forest, not if Hailstar was here. But would he receive StarClan’s blessing?

“With this life I give you courage,” Hailstar whispered. “When you feel doubt, let your heart lead you forward, not back.”

As Hailstar’s muzzle touched his head, agony blazed through Crookedjaw. He tried to flinch away but his paws were rooted to the ground. Hailstar’s memories flared in his mind. Battle flashed around him, claws slashed, teeth snapped, enemies screeched. Crookedjaw found himself falling, plummeting from Sunningrocks, splashing down into the river, bubbles exploding around him.

He gasped as Hailstar stepped back and the memories faded. He swayed on his paws, weak with relief. “Thank you,” he croaked.

Another cat stepped from the ranks of StarClan.

Duskwater. Her name flashed in his mind, though he’d never met her; she’d died in the flood on the night he was kitted. Yet Crookedjaw knew her as though he’d been born knowing her—as though he’d been born knowing all his ancestors.