Crookedstar’s Promise

Crookedstar stared at her. Sacrifices? Did she mean Rainflower? Hailstar? Did she really think she’d made him leader by persuading him to abandon the cats he loved?

“I promised to be loyal to RiverClan, but not at the cost of my Clanmates!” he snarled. “Leave me alone! That’s the only thing you can do for me. The promise I made you means nothing!”

As he turned away, she curled back her lip, revealing sharp yellow teeth. “You can’t walk away from me,” she hissed. Crookedstar felt her claws snag against his pelt, even though she was several paces away. “This will never be over!”

Chapter 37

Crookedstar sat back on his haunches,

pressing a hollow into the snow, and let Loudbelly and Piketooth pass.

“At least we know why you’re called Loudbelly,” Piketooth teased. “It’s been rumbling since we left camp.”

Loudbelly scooped up a pawful of snow and hurled it at his Clanmate. “I’ve had half a sparrow in two days!” he reminded him. “Of course it’s rumbling!”

“We’ll catch something before we go home,” Crookedstar mewed hopefully as they trudged into the willows above the camp. He tried to sound cheerful, but he hated watching his Clan grow so scrawny.

“We’ve been out since dawn and we haven’t caught anything yet,” Loudbelly muttered. The sun was already sliding toward the horizon.

The river had been frozen for half a moon, the ice too thick to break. Without fish, they’d had to rely on meager pickings from the woodland. Crookedstar had forgotten what a full belly felt like.

“You must eat and stay strong for your Clan,” Willowbreeze begged him every night. But Crookedstar could not take food from his Clanmates. He’d rather starve.

Loudbelly squawked as he disappeared into the snow. He struggled back to the surface, cursing. “Why do I find every dip and hollow?”

“Let me go first.” Crookedstar bounded ahead, throwing up snow in his wake.

“Thanks a lot!” Piketooth ducked as his leader sprayed him. “I wasn’t quite cold enough.” A growl edged his mew.

Tempers were as short as the days. “Hungry bellies make angry hearts,” as Birdsong liked to say.

Tanglewhisker had snapped at her the last time she’d said it. “Can’t you think of something helpful to say for a change?”

For once Birdsong had no quick reply. She simply stared at her mate, her eyes dark with pain. Like the rest of her Clan, she was still mourning the death of Graypool’s kits. The whole Clan moved quietly around the camp now, not knowing how to comfort the grieving queen. The two kits, Splashkit and Morningkit, had been born sickly, and had never grown strong, dying less than a moon after they’d been kitted.

Graypool had been very ill afterward. Mudfur and Brambleberry had taken turns to sit with the ailing queen and now she was finally strong enough to leave the camp from time to time, ranging out over the frozen river and yowling her heartbreak out loud.

“She’s calling to them,” Crookedstar had heard Shimmerpelt whisper to Piketooth. “She knows they won’t be coming back but I think she believes they can hear her from StarClan.”

Crookedstar had paused from his washing and pricked his ears, his heart twisting as he heard Graypool’s heartbroken cry echo eerily across the river.

He shook away the memory. “Come on!” He scrambled up the slope to a clearing ringed by rowan and willow. Piketooth struggled after him, through the churned snow.

Loudbelly tasted the air. “Squirrel!” The young warrior dropped into a crouch. A gray squirrel was scampering between the willows, its tail rippling behind it. As it skittered up a trunk, Loudbelly sprang after it, wallowing through the snow. He jumped up the tree and chased the squirrel along a slender branch, shaking clumps of snow on to Crookedstar and Piketooth.

“Watch out!” Piketooth crossly shook snow from his pelt as Loudbelly leaped from one tree to another. But the squirrel darted upward, safe in the highest branches, and bounded away, tree to tree, leaving Loudbelly hanging from a narrow branch with his hind legs churning empty air.

“Frog-dung!” Loudbelly let go and dropped into the snow. He sat up, shaking it from his ears.

Crookedstar shook his head. “Tough luck,” he meowed. If only Oakheart were with them. He was fast and light enough on his paws to cross the snow without breaking the frosty crust. But Oakheart was resting. A vicious battle with Thistleclaw three moons ago had left him with a wrenched leg that still ached in the cold weather.