Crookedstar’s Promise

Soot was pawing at the side of the hollow. “Let him teach us moss-ball,” she begged.

Piper scrambled up beside her littermate. “We’ll be good!” she promised.

Mitzi’s whiskers twitched. “Okay, but stay out of the corn.”

“We promise!” Mist purred at his mother.

“I won’t be long.” Mitzi headed through the corn where Fleck had disappeared.

Magpie blinked. “What’s moss-ball?” His mew was croaky but he’d stopped coughing.

“What’s moss?” Piper asked.

Crookedkit glanced at the churned soil and thick corn stems. No moss here. “How about corn-ball?” He reached up with his forepaws and hauled down a cornstalk till he could grab the head. “Here!” He nipped it off and tossed it down into the hollow.

Soot leaped on it and flicked it up into the air. Piper batted it away with an outstretched paw. The corn head sailed past Crookedkit’s muzzle. Retrieving it from among the stems, he flung it back into the nest. Why go home today? He purred, watching the kits play. He was far more useful here than he could ever be back at camp.

Chapter 8

The forest loomed, dark and eerie, around Crookedkit. He shivered as the damp air seeped into his pelt.

“You’ve been away from your Clan for a moon!” Mapleshade glared at him, a whisker away from his muzzle, and lashed her tail.

Crookedkit met her stare. “Do you really think they’ve missed me?” Fog weaved around his paws. “Don’t you think they were glad to get rid of such a useless warrior?”

“You’re not useless!”

“I

know that!” Crookedkit hunted on the farm every day and helped look after Mitzi’s kits. Fleck didn’t care that he didn’t have his apprentice name yet. He had taught Crookedkit how to stalk and catch mice, how to let the kits play fight without hurting themselves, how to watch out for monsters that didn’t keep to Thunderpaths but stormed over grass and mud faster than a cat could run. Crookedkit knew for sure that he wasn’t useless. “But I don’t know if my Clanmates would agree.”

Mapleshade’s eyes blazed. “Then prove yourself to them!”

“Why should I?” Crookedkit hissed. “They stopped believing in me!”

“Every warrior must prove himself,” Mapleshade argued. “You must go home! Your destiny lies with your Clan.”

Crookedkit heard pleading in her mew. “I’ll go back when I’m big enough and strong enough to become an apprentice.”

“You’re big enough already!” Mapleshade pressed. “You’ve eaten so many mice you’ve probably forgotten what fish tastes like.”

Crookedkit licked his lips, remembering the taste of the river with a pang. Then he dug his claws into the brown earth. He liked living on the farm. He liked being needed. He liked how Magpie and Mist looked up to him. And what if Mapleshade was wrong? His great destiny might lie here. “What if my Clanmates never see past my twisted jaw?” he whispered. “What if Hailstar never makes me an apprentice?”

“If you stay away much longer, he won’t,” Mapleshade growled. “You’ll be called a loner.”

Crookedkit flattened his ears. “I’m a RiverClan cat.”

“Then go home and prove it.” Her amber gaze held his while the forest faded around them. Then Mapleshade blinked and Crookedkit woke up.

He scrambled to his paws, relishing the warm morning sunshine streaming into the barn. “I smell mice.” He nudged Fleck.

“Just you wait.” Fleck stirred beside him. “It’s harvesttime soon.” He yawned. “Then you’ll really see the mice run.”

Crookedkit licked his lips. “I found a new mouse nest yesterday.”

Fleck sat up. “Where?”

Crookedkit bounded out of his straw nest and trotted across the stone floor. “I’ll show you.” He wanted to stop Mapleshade’s words from ringing in his ears. He wasn’t a loner. He was a RiverClan cat. And once he was big enough for his Clanmates to take him seriously, he’d go home and prove it.

“Slow down!” Fleck lapped at his rumpled fur.

“Come on!” Crookedkit paused, swishing his tail. “I want to show you before the monsters wake up.”

Puffing, Fleck hurried after him, then stopped suddenly and twisted to nibble at an itch on his spine. “I haven’t had a chance to pick my fleas out yet.”

“You can do that later.” Crookedkit jumped through the opening, screwing up his eyes against the dazzling light. The sun blazed above the distant hills. The farm monsters lay still in their dens. Crookedkit scooted across the open space and followed the wall.

“Hurry up!” he called as Fleck appeared around the corner. Grass clung to the bottom of the wall. Crookedkit followed the clumps till he reached a green tuft, thick with nettles. His mouth began to water as he parted the stems with his forepaws. Behind, a tiny hole was just visible under a jutting-out stone. “In there,” he whispered to Fleck.

Fleck peered over his shoulder. “It’s a waiting hole. You’ll have to let the mouse come out first.”

“We can dig underneath.”

Fleck shook his head. “I’ve tried. The stones go down a tail-length. You won’t dig your way past them.”

Crookedkit let the nettles swish back into place. “I’ll wait, then.”

Fleck’s whiskers quivered. “You? Wait?”