Эрин Хантер - Crookedstar’s Promise

“That’s great!” Stormkit felt a surge of excitement. “Can I try?”

“Of course,” Oakkit mewed. “That’s what it’s for. Me and Volekit climb up and thread in fresh bulrushes every morning. It’s to practice hunting skills. By the time we start training we’ll be able to hit a mouse from three tail-lengths away.”

The den rustled as Volekit, Beetlekit, and Petalkit fought to squeeze in.

“Hey! I was first!” Beetlekit complained as Petalkit climbed over him and scampered across the nests to the training corner.

“Have you tried it yet, Stormkit?” Volekit demanded. He crouched down, wiggled his hindquarters, then flung himself at the wall and snatched a bulrush head.

Stormkit pressed his belly to the floor and looked up. A fat bulrush was dangling teasingly over his head. He narrowed his eyes and leaped. Stretching out his paws, he reached for the long fuzzy head. His paws clapped together, grabbing thin air, and he fell back on to the moss panting. “Frog dung!”

“You nearly had it,” Petalkit mewed encouragingly.

Stormkit lashed his tail. “ Nearly’s not good enough.”

The nest behind him rustled. Echomist squeezed into the nursery, her soft gaze on Stormkit. “It’s good to have you back.”

Petalkit purred. “He’s trying the training corner,” she mewed. “He can jump pretty high already.”

Volekit stared thoughtfully at the wall. “We’re going to have to add more bulrushes.”

The den trembled. “You’re not going to clog up that corner with more mess, are you?” Rainflower pushed her way in and sat down. She licked her paw and ran it over her pale gray face. “Can’t you play outside like normal kits?”

“Okay.” Oakkit nudged Stormkit toward the entrance. “Come on,” he called to the others. “Let’s play moss-ball.”

Beetlekit bounded across the den. “I’m catcher!” he mewed.

“You were catcher last time!” Petalkit scrambled after him.

As his denmates crowded past him, Stormkit stumbled over a pile of woven reeds at the edge of the den. “What’s this?” It looked like a nest. Had a new queen moved to the nursery?

Rainflower paused mid-lick. “That’s your nest,” she meowed.

“ My nest?” Wouldn’t he be sleeping in her nest with Oakkit, like before?

“You’ll need your own space,” Rainflower told him. “Your jaw must be sore. You’ll probably fidget in your sleep. I don’t want Oakkit disturbed just because you’re injured.”

Stormkit blinked at his mother. “It doesn’t hurt now,” he mewed. “I won’t fidget, I promise.”

“Still, it’s better if you have your own space.” Rainflower returned to her washing.

Volekit nudged Stormkit’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go and play.”

Stormkit stared at his mother. Was she angry because he’d worried her by being so ill?

Shellheart poked his head through the entrance. “How are you settling in?”

“I’ve got my own nest,” Stormkit mumbled.

Shellheart narrowed his eyes. “Have you got your own nest, too, Oakkit?”

Oakkit stared at his paws.

“Rainflower.” Shellheart’s mew was more like a growl. “I’d like to speak with you outside.”

The fur along Rainflower’s spine bristled as she hopped out of the den.

“Come on, kits,” Echomist mewed cheerily. “How about another go at the training wall?”

“But we’re going outside to play.” Beetlekit’s mew was drowned by Shellheart’s angry snarl beyond the nursery wall.

“His own nest?”

“He has to grow up eventually,” Rainflower answered.

“But Oakkit can stay in your nest?” Shellheart hissed.

“Stormkit must be used to his own nest after so long in the medicine den.”

Shellheart snorted. “At least you’re still calling him Stormkit.”

“And I’ll keep calling him that till Hailstar changes his name formally.”

“So you’re still determined to rename him Crookedkit?”

Stormkit froze. Crooked kit?

“It will suit him.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel?”

“If he’d stayed in camp he’d never have had the accident.”

She does blame me!

Rainflower carried on. “Then he wouldn’t be the ugly mess he is now.” The icy coldness in his mother’s voice made Stormkit feel sick. “He’d still be my handsome young warrior.”

He began to tremble. Soft fur brushed beside him. Echomist pressed close as Shellheart growled at his mate.

“How do you think Stormkit must feel?”

“He’ll get used to it,” Rainflower retorted.

“To what?” Rage sharpened Shellheart’s mew. “His new name? Being scarred for life? Being rejected by his mother?”

“The accident wasn’t my fault! I shouldn’t have to deal with it,” Rainflower spat.

Stormkit’s chest tightened. A sob welled in his throat.

“She’s grieving,” Echomist murmured in his ear. “She doesn’t realize what she’s saying.”

Shellheart’s voice was little more than a whisper. “I never knew you could be so heartless, Rainflower,” he growled. “If you insist on Hailstar going ahead with the renaming ceremony then we are no longer mates. I will never share a den or a piece of fresh-kill with you again.”

“Very well.”

Stormkit couldn’t listen to any more. He jumped to his paws and rushed out of the den. “Please don’t argue! I don’t mind sleeping by myself or having a new name!” he wailed. But Rainflower was already crossing the clearing to Hailstar’s den and didn’t seem to hear him. Stormkit stared pleadingly at Shellheart. “Don’t argue because of me.”

“It’s not because of you.” Shellheart wrapped his tail around Stormkit. “It’s because of her.” He stared after Rainflower, anger flaring in his eyes.

Brambleberry was trotting toward them. “How’s the nursery?” Her cheerful mew faltered as she caught Shellheart’s gaze. She turned to see Rainflower disappear into Hailstar’s den. “She’s really going to do it?”

Shellheart nodded. Brambleberry closed her eyes for a moment, then blinked them open and stared at Stormkit. “The seasons change, Stormkit, but RiverClan never stops being RiverClan. Shellheart will always be brave and loyal, whether there is sun or snow on his pelt. And you will always have the heart of a warrior, no matter what your name is.” She touched him gently on the head with her muzzle.

The trailing moss at the entrance to Hailstar’s den quivered and Hailstar padded out. Rainflower slid out after him. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words,” the RiverClan leader meowed solemnly.

Brambleberry flicked her tail. “Perhaps I should change my name.” She began to walk toward Hailstar. “I could be called Swallowherb.” She purred at her own joke. “See?” She looked over her shoulder at Stormkit. “Because that’s what I do? I make cats swallow herbs.”

Stormkit padded numbly after her. He tried to purr but his throat was dry.

Brambleberry halted and looked down at him. “StarClan is watching over you,” she told him. Her blue eyes met his. “This is part of a destiny only they understand, but you must believe that they are guiding all of us, and that they care about you just as much as any cat in RiverClan.”

Stormkit blinked as the medicine cat turned and trotted away. He wanted to believe her, but why would StarClan let something so unfair happen to him?

Troutclaw, Birdsong, and Tanglewhisker headed down the slope as Echomist herded Volekit, Petalkit, and Beetlekit from the nursery.

“How can he change someone’s name before they’re an apprentice?” Volekit was protesting.

“Shhh!” Echomist hurried him on with a nudge of her nose.