Эрин Хантер - Crookedstar’s Promise

Hailstar waited with Rainflower beside him while the Clan gathered at the edge of the clearing.

“What’s going on?” Shimmerpelt whispered.

Fallowtail shrugged. “No idea. It’s too soon for the kits to have their apprentice names.”

Softpaw lifted her chin. “Maybe we’re going to get our warrior names,” she hissed to Whitepaw. Whitepaw glanced questioningly at his mentor, but Timberfur was whispering something to Ottersplash, his eyes dark.

Stormkit’s heart quickened. He tried to catch Rainflower’s eye but she stared straight ahead.

“Stormkit, come here.” Hailstar’s mew was soft.

Stormkit padded, trembling, into the clearing. He looked blindly around. The familiar faces seemed strange, menacing, all of a sudden. Was this a bad dream?

“I have gathered the Clan to witness the giving of your new name. I’m sorry you have suffered so much. The whole Clan knows how brave you’ve been.” His mew was gentle with sympathy. “Your new name may describe your face, young kit, but it doesn’t describe your heart. I know you are as true and loyal as any warrior. Bear your name bravely as a kit and nobly when you become a warrior.”

Stormkit nodded.

“From this day forward, you shall be known as Crookedkit.”

Stormkit tried not to hear the murmur of shock that swept around the Clan. He stared past Hailstar, confusion clouding his thoughts.

But I was born in a storm. I’m Stormkit.

How could he ever be Stormstar now?

Suddenly he glimpsed an orange-and-white pelt in the shadow of the sedges. The cat from the river! Her pelt shimmered as though caught in a heat haze. He tasted the air and found only the familiar scents of his Clanmates. She must be a StarClan cat. StarClan is watching over you. Brambleberry’s words rang in his head. Had the orange-and-white cat been sent to remind him of their promise? Don’t worry, little one. He heard her words again. It’s not your time yet. You have a great destiny ahead of you.

“Crookedkit.” He murmured his new name. “I am Crookedkit.” He glanced around his Clanmates. No one met his gaze. Only the shimmering orange-and-white cat. Her amber eyes shone, unblinking, at him. She believes in me. With a rush of hope, Crookedkit lifted his chin.

“I am Crookedkit,” he repeated.

“Can I sleep in Crookedkit’s nest tonight?” Oakkit mewed to Rainflower. His eyes glistened in the moonlight that filtered through the walls. “It’s my last night in the nursery.”

“No.” Rainflower climbed into her nest and circled, ready for sleep. “How many times have I told you? He’s used to sleeping alone. You’ll stop him from getting a good night’s rest, and he needs as much sleep as he can get if he’s ever going to grow.”

Crookedkit flinched. A long moon of sleeping in his own nest had deepened his pain, not eased it. Volepaw, Petalpaw, and Beetlepaw had received their apprentice names and moved to the apprentices’ den, and Echomist had returned to the warriors’ dens. Crookedkit curled into his nest and tucked his nose under his paw. If only he hadn’t broken his jaw, Rainflower would still love him. Instead she acted like his ugliness was contagious. He’d tried to please her, to make up for his accident. He’d fetched her prey from the fresh-kill pile until she asked him to stop. He’d offered to clean out the stale moss from her nest, but she’d shaken her head.

“Clean out your own nest,” she’d told him. “Softpaw can do ours.”

Crookedkit shoved his nose tighter under his paw. His belly rumbled; his jaw ached. He’d only managed to eat a fish tail earlier before pain had stopped him from chewing. If he couldn’t eat, how would he even grow big enough to get his apprentice name?

“Crookedkit!”

Volepaw was calling. Crookedkit blinked open his eyes. Hot greenleaf sun shone through the reed walls. Rainflower’s nest was empty. Had he missed Oakkit’s naming ceremony?

“The dawn patrol brought fresh-kill!”

Crookedkit struggled groggily out of his nest, his legs trembling as he stumbled out of the nursery.

Volepaw was bouncing around Shellheart. “Look what he caught!”

Shellheart held a fat trout in his jaws. He dropped it at Crookedkit’s paws. Crookedkit jumped back; the fish was almost as big as he was. Shellheart purred. “One day you’ll be catching fish like that.” He tore a lump from the shimmering fresh-kill. “Eat this.” He tossed it beside Crookedkit. “I’ll give the rest to the elders. Tanglewhisker won’t believe his eyes.”

Crookedkit watched his father carry the fish away, then looked down at the piece at his paws.

Volepaw was watching him.

Crookedkit ignored the trout, even though its fresh river smell was making his mouth water. He sucked back the spit that was threatening to spill over his twisted jaw. “Has Hailstar given Oakkit his apprentice name yet?” he asked.

“Not yet.” Volepaw glanced toward Hailstar’s den. A pale gray tail twitched between the trailing moss covering the entrance. “Rainflower wanted to talk to Hailstar before the ceremony.”

Perhaps she’s asking Hailstar to make me an apprentice, too! Hope flared in Crookedkit’s belly.

“She told Echomist that there’s only one warrior good enough to train Oakkit,” Volepaw went on. “And she’s going to make sure Hailstar chooses him.”

“Oh.” Disappointment dragged at his pelt. “Which warrior is it?”

Volepaw shrugged. “Who knows?” He glanced at the piece of trout. “Are you going to eat that?”

Crookedkit hesitated. He was hungry but there was no way he was going to eat in front of Volepaw. He still drooled like an elder. “You have it.” He kicked it toward Volepaw.

“Thanks.” Volepaw crouched and started eating. Crookedkit’s belly growled.

“Let all cats old enough to swim gather in the clearing!” Hailstar was padding from his den, his wide shoulders sleek and freshly groomed.

Cedarpelt slid out from the sedges. A dead frog dangled from his jaws. Fallowtail jumped down from the ancient willow. She turned and called up to Softpaw. “We’ll practice diving later.”

Softpaw slithered clumsily down the trunk. “I don’t know why we have to learn to climb. It’s not natural.”

Tanglewhisker poked his head out of the elders’ den. “A ceremony already? The sun’s barely up!” he grumbled, but he padded down the slope with Birdsong and Troutclaw ambling after him.

Piketooth hauled himself out of the reed bed, clasping a bundle of stems between his jaws. River water streamed from his tabby pelt as he laid the reeds on the ground. Shimmerpelt followed him on to dry land, another bundle dripping between her teeth. She dropped the reeds and shook out her glossy black fur. Lakeshine, who was dozing nearby, leaped to her paws as water sprayed her.

“Sorry.” Shimmerpelt flicked her tail. “I didn’t see you.”

Lakeshine’s mottled gray pelt made her look like dappled shadow beside the shore. “It’s okay.” The she-cat licked her wet fur. “It’ll cool me down.”

Brambleberry emerged from the medicine den and sat beside Softpaw. The apprentice was lapping at her chest where mossy willow bark had turned her snowy white fur into another patch of tabby.

Whitepaw came hurtling from the dirtplace tunnel. “Did I miss anything?” He circled his mentor.

Timberfur sat down. “Not yet.”

Crookedkit wondered where to sit. Shellheart was beside Hailstar. Rainflower stood apart from her Clanmates, Oakkit at her side. Oakkit’s eyes sparkled. Crookedkit wanted to race across the clearing and wish him luck. But he knew Rainflower would send him away with a snarl.