Crookedstar’s Promise

The words sang in Crookedjaw’s heart. He broke into a run, heading for home. Strength pulsed in his paws. He’d saved Willowbreeze from Twolegs. He’d been chosen by StarClan.

I can do anything!

Chapter 26

Leaf-fall had reddened the willow and darkened the sedge. Crookedjaw shivered as a cold wind swept through the camp. “Come on!” he called to the kits. “Let’s warm up with a game.” His charges—who were close to becoming ’paws now that they were five moons old—padded disdainfully around him.

Skykit sniffed. “We want to learn battle moves.”

“The camp may be invaded by Twolegs any moment!” Reedkit flicked his long, reed-straight tail.

Crookedjaw purred. “I don’t think a patrol of kits doing forepaw slashes is going to drive them off.”

Blackkit growled. “Just you wait!”

“We’ll shred them!” Frogkit barged past his denmate and squared up to Crookedjaw. “Show me that move you talked about, the forepaw slash.”

Crookedjaw started to feel trapped. He glanced toward the nursery where Shimmerpelt and Lakeshine were busy clearing out their greenleaf nests. Ottersplash had just delivered a bundle of fresh reeds from the river to weave into sturdier leaf-bare nests that would keep out the cold wind.

“Hey, Ottersplash, I could fetch reeds if you like!” Crookedjaw called. And you can watch your kits!

“Thanks, Crookedjaw.” Ottersplash dropped her bundle and turned back for more. “But they’d much rather hang out with a warrior than with their mothers.”

Crookedjaw scanned the entrance to the camp, hoping Cedarpelt, Piketooth, or Timberfur would return and take over kit duty. Willowbreeze was taking them on a hunting patrol—her first as patrol leader. They were fishing below Sunningrocks where the fish lurked in the cool shadows. He wondered how she was doing.

“Go on!” Sunkit interrupted his thoughts. “Show us a forepaw slash.”

“Lakeshine says you’re too young to learn battle moves,” Crookedjaw told her.

Sunkit glowered at her mother, who was pulling wisps of stale moss out of the nursery. “Ottersplash doesn’t think we’re too young.”

Ottersplash called from the reed bed. “They’re never too young to start training!”

Lakeshine reproached her with a sharp look. “I don’t want them to get hurt.”

“You can’t wrap them up in feathers,” Ottersplash argued.

Shimmerpelt sat back from her work and shook her head. “There’s no hurry. They’ll be ’paws soon,” she reminded both queens. “It won’t be long till they can learn all the battle moves they want.”

Loudkit flexed his claws. “What if the Twolegs do invade the camp?”

Crookedjaw sat down. “They won’t.” There had been plenty of pelt-dens in the field this green-leaf, but as the colder weather set in, fewer Twolegs came. “Hey, Oakheart!” He called across the clearing to his brother, who was organizing a fresh border patrol. “The Twolegs won’t invade the camp, will they?”

Oakheart shook his head. “We’ve kept a close eye on them for moons,” he reassured the kits. “They rarely stray as far as the marsh meadow.” Oakheart had taken on responsibility for patrolling the Twoleg field in the moons since Willowbreeze had been stolen. He made a daily check on the pelt-dens, monitoring their arrival and disappearance, he’d invented patrol strategies for distracting Twolegs should they ever wander near the camp, and he could get a patrol of warriors right around the field without being spotted.

Leopardkit brushed against Crookedjaw. Younger than her denmates, her pelt was still soft as duck down. “Please teach us a battle move?” She gazed up at Crookedjaw with round, dark eyes.

His whiskers twitched. The whole Clan had spoiled the motherless kit, especially her father Mudfur, who doted on her, and she could wrap almost any Clanmate around her tail.

Leopardkit blinked sweetly and purred, “Please?”

“Don’t you dare teach her anything!” Shimmerpelt bustled over and shooed Leopardkit away. “Mudfur would be horrified if he came back and found her fighting!” Though the night-black queen was fiercely fond of her adopted kit, she wasn’t as easily swayed as the rest of the Clan by Leopardkit’s wiles.

“Come on!” Sunkit bounced around him. “Tell us what to do!”

“We could stalk Oakheart!” Crookedjaw proposed. “First one to creep up on him wins.”

Oakheart flicked his tail. “Sorry, Crookedjaw. We’re leaving.” He headed for the gap in the reeds with Petaldust and Whitefang at his heels.

Blackkit clawed the ground. “Why don’t we stalk you instead?” He sprang and landed on Crookedjaw’s back.

Crookedjaw staggered dramatically, wincing as the other kits joined in. Collapsing under a storm of churning, flailing paws, he sank grunting to the ground and writhed like a captured pike. The kits squealed as he flung them back and forth, tugging his fur in an effort to cling on.

“Look!” Skykit’s excited squeak caused a fresh flurry of paws.

Frogkit yowled with delight. “The hunting patrol’s back!”