Crookedstar’s Promise

Crookedjaw crossed the narrow strip of grass and stopped beside a bramble. He marked it, growling. Smell that, ThunderClan! By the time they met back at the cliff top, the forest was drenched in RiverClan scent.

“I want four warriors to stay,” Hailstar announced. “If a ThunderClan patrol comes, challenge them. If there’s a fight, we’ll hear from the camp and send reinforcements.”

Timberfur stepped forward. “I’ll stay.”

“Me too.” Crookedjaw lined up with him.

Hailstar nudged him away. “I want my most experienced warriors to take the first watch.” He glanced at Shellheart. “You stay with Timberfur, Echomist, and Owlfur.”

Crookedjaw’s itched with frustration as he followed Oakheart down the cliff face. He lowered himself paw hold by paw hold until he felt the ground brush his tail-tip. Then he let himself drop and landed lightly beside Whitefang.

The white warrior’s eyes shone. “That was as easy as swallowing a minnow.”

Hailstar nodded. “Let’s go and tell the Clan.”

Their Clanmates were waiting in the starlit clearing. Beetlenose paced beside the reed bed. Lilystem stared expectantly from beneath the willow. Even the queens had slid from the nursery and were lined up, their eyes filled with hope.

“Did you do it?” Lakeshine called.

“Sunningrocks belongs to RiverClan again!” Hailstar announced.

The Clan’s cheers sent roosting birds flapping into the still night air.

Willowpaw hurried over to Crookedjaw. “Did you have to fight?”

“It was easy,” he told her. “There wasn’t a single patrol.”

Beetlenose snorted. “That’s because all of ThunderClan is asleep!”

“They hadn’t been there for days,” Voleclaw added.

“It’s too hot for their delicate forest paws,” Petaldust crowed.

Crookedjaw looked around at his jubilant Clanmates. Was he the only cat who felt that this victory had been too easy?

“I can’t believe they haven’t tried to fight for it.” Oakheart hauled himself onto the topmost boulder of Sunningrocks. “It’s been two days. We’ll be able to bring the elders up here soon to enjoy the warmth.”

Crookedjaw followed his brother over the edge and surveyed the wide stretch of stone, white now beneath the fierce morning sun. “They might still be waiting to catch us off guard.” He nodded to the RiverClan patrol they’d been sent to relieve. Petaldust and Cedarpelt flicked their tails in welcome. Beetlenose stretched while Mudfur hurried toward them.

“Brightsky’s doing fine,” Crookedjaw told the brown warrior. Had Hailstar hoped to distract Mudfur from Brightsky’s illness by sending him for guard duty? Clearly it hadn’t worked. Mudfur was frowning as he disappeared over the edge of the rock, fast as a fish, and splashed into the river. Why hadn’t StarClan healed Brightsky by now?

Fallowtail and Whitefang clambered onto the rocks as Beetlenose, Cedarpelt, and Petaldust began to climb down.

“Mudfur was in a hurry,” Whitefang panted.

Fallowtail sighed. “I just hope Brightsky’s fever breaks before her kits come.” She called after Petaldust, “Send word if there’s any change.”

“Even if it’s bad news?” Petaldust’s mew echoed up the rock.

“Yes.”

Beetlenose yowled from the foot of the cliff face. “Call if you need help.”

Crookedjaw turned away. “We won’t need help.” Not one marker had been replaced by ThunderClan scent in the two days since they’d set them. ThunderClan seemed to have given in without a fight. Crookedjaw padded across the rock and lay down on its hot, smooth surface.

Oakheart sat beside him, staring into the woods while Fallowtail and Whitefang sniffed along the rim of the rock plateau. White clouds drifted across the sun, sending shadows over the rocks. Crookedjaw stretched, enjoying the sunshine and shade sweeping his pelt. Oakheart began washing.

“I can’t believe it was so easy.” Whitefang sounded as if he’d wanted a battle.

Crookedjaw rolled over. “They may still make us fight for them.”

Below them, bushes rustled at the tree line.

Crookedjaw sat up, bristling. “Did you hear that?”

Fallowtail tasted the air. “ThunderClan,” she whispered.

The patrol was on its paws in a moment, hackles up, staring into the trees. Crookedjaw took a long breath, letting the air wash his tongue. There were definitely ThunderClan cats moving among the undergrowth, but not enough to make an attack patrol. He detected one familiar scent.

“Bluefur.” Oakheart was already bounding down the rocks.

“Careful!” Fallowtail warned.

Crookedjaw shook his head. “They won’t attack,” he reassured her. “It’s just a border patrol.”

Oakheart was peering through the trees. His ears pricked as though he’d spotted prey. Then Crookedjaw heard a vicious hiss and the yowl of a ThunderClan warrior calling to her Clanmate. “Bluefur!”

Oakheart turned away, pelt smooth, eyes glittering.

Whitefang jumped down the rocks to meet him. “Did you see anything?” he called.

“Just a young ThunderClan warrior being nosy.” Oakheart climbed back up the rocks and sat down to lick his paws.