Crookedstar’s Promise

“No!” Crookedstar sat up with a jolt, realizing that Willowbreeze’s pelt was cold to the touch. “No!” He scrambled from the nest and burst from the den. “No!” His yowl ripped through the camp. “I never promised you this!” Shocked gazes flashed from his Clanmates. He raced out of the camp, pounding the wet grass as he pelted into the willows. “Mapleshade!” he roared. “Where are you? Is this another of your sacrifices? Is this so I can be the greatest warrior ever? I don’t want to be the greatest warrior! I take it back! I take back my promise! If this is what I must suffer, I don’t want it!”

“Crookedstar!” Oakheart’s yowl rang through the trees.

Crookedstar collapsed, panting.

His brother’s pelt brushed his. “What are you talking about?” Oakheart pressed against him. “What did you promise?”

Crookedstar shook him away. “I can’t tell you!” Guilt raged through him. “I can’t say!”

Oakheart smoothed his pelt with his tail. “Come back to the camp, Crookedstar. Our Clanmates are worried.”

Crookedstar pushed himself to his paws. He padded blindly after Oakheart, back to the camp, into the clearing. Sunfish was squeezing out of the nursery, Silverkit dangling in her jaws.

Crookedstar ran toward her. “Where are you taking her?”

Sunfish flinched away, her eyes wide. Brambleberry darted between them. “She’s taking Silverkit to the elders’ den where she’ll be safe from infection. She’ll nurse her and keep her warm.”

“What about Willowkit and Minnowkit?” Crookedstar demanded.

“They’re asleep in the nursery.”

“And… and Willowbreeze?” Her name stuck in his throat, choking him. Brambleberry’s gaze flicked past him. Crookedstar turned and saw Willowbreeze’s body already laid out in the clearing, rain drenching her pelt. With an agonized moan, he barged into the nursery. “I’m going to stay with my kits,” he growled.

He curled into the nest with Minnowkit and Willowkit. They were trembling with fever and coughing as he tucked himself around them and held them tight. “Hush, little ones. I’ll take care of you.”

Anxious mews erupted outside.

“It’s all right.” Brambleberry soothed her Clanmates. “He’s grieving.”

Crookedstar flattened his ears and held on to his kits. They coughed, jerking against him, fragile as prey, mewling and squirming as the nursery grew darker. Night fell and Crookedstar heard paws scuff the clearing and soft whispers stir the air as his Clanmates sat vigil for Willowbreeze. Crookedstar lapped gently at his daughters’ pelts until they grew quiet. Relieved, Crookedstar closed his eyes.

“Crookedstar.”

He woke up, blinking against the dawn light filtering through the roof. Mudfur’s dark pelt moved beside the nest. Crookedstar sat up. Minnowkit and Willowkit tumbled away from him. Crookedstar stretched out a paw to nudge them back into the nest.

Mudfur touched Crookedstar lightly with his muzzle. “They’re dead, Crookedstar.” He stared down at the tiny bodies. “They’re with Willowbreeze now.”

Crookedstar hardly heard what he was saying. He pushed past him, out of the nest, out of the nursery. He stumbled blindly across the camp, ignoring the grief-stricken mews of his Clanmates, seeing nothing but a blurred sea of pelts as he staggered toward his den.

“I’m so sorry!” Fallowtail’s cry trailed after him.

“Not the kits, too!”

Crookedstar blocked out Graypool’s desperate wail as he burst into his den. Collapsing in his nest, he buried his nose in the moss. It smelled faintly of Willowbreeze. Swallowing back a yowl, he screwed his eyes shut. Whatever he did, he couldn’t escape his promise! He couldn’t take it back. I’m destined to lose every cat I care about!

Memories swirled—tragedy after tragedy: Willowbreeze; his kits; Rainflower; Hailstar; Oakheart’s betrayal; Bluefur’s sacrifice. Mistyfoot and Stonefur don’t even know their real mother! His promise was a stone flung into the river, sending never-ending ripples not just through his life but through his Clan’s, through everything! All because of Mapleshade!

Mapleshade! A growl rumbled deep in his throat. I’m coming for you, Mapleshade. He dived into sleep, willing it, wanting it, and woke in the Dark Forest.

Mapleshade was watching him. “Crookedstar.” Her mew oozed with satisfaction.

Rage scorched through him. With a roar, he leaped at her. Silverhawk’s death bite was seared in his memory. Swiping the old she-cat sideways with a hefty blow, Crookedstar lunged for her throat.

She ducked away, growling. Pleasure lit her eyes. “You think you’re stronger than me?” she hissed. She darted forward and reared up at him, slamming her forepaws against his cheek.