Crookedstar’s Promise

It was deserted. He checked the place where the apprentices’ den had been next, and then what was left of the warriors’ dens. It smelled only of sodden reeds. He glanced around the camp, fighting to keep his balance as water tugged and pushed him. Then half running, half swimming, he crossed the clearing and followed his Clan.

“Are we all here?” he asked as he caught up with his Clanmates on drier ground.

Rippleclaw scowled. “There’s still no sign of Duskwater.”

Brightsky stepped forward. “I’ll go back and find her.”

Hailstar nodded. “The rest of you keep moving up to the trees,” he ordered.

As Brightsky dived down the bank, Rainflower let out a low moan.

Shellheart stiffened. “Rainflower?”

The queen was crouching, her face twisted in pain.

Brambleberry ducked down beside her, then lifted her head. “The kits are coming,” she announced.

“Right now?” Shellheart demanded.

“They won’t wait for the storm to end,” Brambleberry retorted. “We must get her somewhere safe.”

“Into the middle of the trees,” Shellheart suggested. “The water never reaches that far.”

“That’ll take too long.” Brambleberry glanced up at the wide, low branch of an ancient oak that hung overhead. “Do you think you can get her up there?”

Shellheart blinked. “I will if I have to.” He grabbed Rainflower’s scruff and, half guiding, half dragging, propelled her toward the thick trunk. “Up you go.”

Rainflower glanced upward and groaned. She opened her mouth as if she was about to protest, then her flanks convulsed and she shrank into the spasm, looking small and wretched with her fur slicked down.

“Come on!” Brambleberry meowed briskly. “We don’t have long.”

Rainflower dug her claws into the bark, and Shellheart shoved from behind. Panting, the queen hauled herself up until she reached a hollow in the trunk where the low branch jutted out.

Brambleberry skittered up the trunk, lithe as a squirrel, slipping past Shellheart. She glanced at the hollow where branch met trunk and nodded. “Here will do.” Then she blinked at Shellheart. “Can you get herbs from my den?”

Shellheart nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Be careful!” Rainflower gasped, but Shellheart had already leaped from the branch onto the slippery ground below and was racing back toward the flooded camp.

Brambleberry cleared wet leaves out of the low dip between branch and trunk. “Good. There’s plenty of room for you to lie down here.” She nosed Rainflower into the hollow and crouched beside her on the dripping bark.

“Will he be all right?” Rainflower whispered. She stared into the darkness where Shellheart had disappeared.

“He can take care of himself,” Brambleberry told her. Her fur was spiked, wet to the skin. She’d been RiverClan’s medicine cat for fewer than three moons since her mentor, Milkfur, had joined StarClan. This was the first time she’d dealt with an emergency on her own.

Rainflower shuddered as a fresh wave of pain passed through her belly. Brambleberry took a deep breath, blocking out the howling of the wind and the growl of thunder. She laid her forepaws gently on Rainflower’s flank as another contraction gripped the queen.

Brambleberry scanned the reed bed far below. No sign of Shellheart. “Here.” She nipped off a twig with her teeth and laid it beside Rainflower’s cheek. “Bite down on that when the pains come.”

“Is that all you have?” Rainflower hissed.

“It’s all you need,” Brambleberry told her. “Queens have been kitting since the ancient Clans. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

Rainflower groaned and bit down on the stick, her body shuddering.

Claws ripped bark as Shellheart scrambled onto the branch. “Sorry,” he panted. His fur was drenched. “I had to swim to your den. I managed to get inside, but your herbs have all been washed away.”

Brambleberry closed her eyes as she thought of how many moons it had taken to build up that supply. Before she could reply, Rainflower hissed and the stick crunched between her teeth.

The first kit was coming.

Brambleberry leaned down in time to see a kit slither out on to the rough bark. She gave it a lick, and then passed the tiny, wriggling bundle to its father. “Don’t let it fall,” she warned.

“Is everything okay?” Brightsky was calling from the bottom of the tree. Water lapped her paws. The flood had reached the tree.

“One kit and one more to come,” Brambleberry reported.

Shellheart looked down, keeping one forepaw over the squirming kit. “Did you find Duskwater?”

“No sign of her,” Brightsky replied heavily.

Shellheart lashed his tail. “Join the others. We’re fine. Come back for us when the waters have gone down.”

The stick Rainflower had been biting on crumbled into splinters as the second kit slid out. Brambleberry caught it in her teeth and placed it at Rainflower’s belly.

Rainflower reached for it at once, licking it roughly till it mewled. “It’s a tom.”

“So’s this one.” Shellheart gently placed the tiny kit beside its littermate. His voice cracked. “They’re perfect,” he whispered.