Эрин Хантер - Crookedstar’s Promise

Crookedkit felt his tail droop. Didn’t anyone want him around?

Brambleberry was watching him from outside the medicine den. “Do you want to help me sort herbs?” she called.

“I’m going to be a warrior, not a medicine cat!” Crookedkit snapped. He turned and padded across the clearing. Oakpaw was trotting into camp, a wad of moss between his jaws.

Shellheart hailed him. “Oakpaw, when you’ve delivered that, I’ll take you on a tour of the territory.”

Crookedkit pricked his ears. “Can I come?” he called hopefully.

Shellheart sighed. “One day.” He watched as Oakpaw raced up the slope, dropped the moss, and dashed back down. “Ready?”

Oakpaw nodded. Crookedkit sat down and watched them disappear through the entrance tunnel.

Rainflower was lying in the shade of the sedge wall, sharing fresh-kill with Lakeshine. She lifted her head and stared at Crookedkit. “I’m moving back to the warriors’ dens tonight.” She turned her fresh-kill with her paw. “Lakeshine’s letting me share her nest until I build my own.”

You can’t! Crookedkit’s heart began to race. That meant he’d be alone in the nursery. His Clanmates would all be sharing tongues and snoring together while he lay on his own, like an outcast. Maybe Rainflower would stay if he did something to impress her. Maybe he could get her to love him again. He raced for the fallen tree and scrambled up the trunk. Claws stretched, he skittered along the jutting branch he’d climbed moons ago.

“Look, Rainflower!” He reached the end and stretched up, legs trembling, heart pounding, tall enough that the whole Clan could see him—the bravest kit in the Clan. “Look at me!”

Rainflower twitched her tail. “Get down before you fall!” she called wearily, and turned back to her meal. “And stop showing off. You’ll be an apprentice when you’re ready, not before.”

Somewhere in the woods, a warbler shrieked. Crookedkit sat up in his nest. The Clan was asleep. Even through the walls of the nursery, he could hear snores and snuffles and the rustling of nests as his Clanmates stretched and rolled over. Crookedkit felt wide awake. His heart ached in his chest too fiercely to sleep. He trailed around the empty den, breathing in the scents of Rainflower and Echomist.

Perhaps the orange-and-white StarClan warrior would come now. He scanned the shadowy edges of the nursery, straining to see through the half-light. Was this loneliness part of the destiny she’d promised? StarClan is watching over you. He remembered Brambleberry’s words. 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.

If StarClan wouldn’t come to him, then he’d go to them. He’d visit the Moonstone where Brambleberry shared tongues with their ancestors. When he was in the medicine den, she’d described her journeys there. He just had to head upstream and get through WindClan territory without being spotted. After that Highstones would be easy to find. It was bigger than Sunningrocks. It makes Sunningrocks look like a pebble. That’s what Brambleberry had told him. Butterflies fluttered in his belly but he ignored them. He had to know whether this was part of his destiny. Padding to the nursery entrance, he peered out. The clearing was deserted, silvered by moonlight. Crookedkit slid out of the reed den and padded quietly across the clearing to the entrance tunnel.

The sedge whispered around him as he headed out of camp.

Gentle rain began to fall as Crookedkit followed the grassy path away from the camp. The river glittered beside him. I cross the river and head upstream to the moors. Then I— He frowned, trying to remember the rest of Brambleberry’s words. His paws pricked nervously. First, cross the river. He couldn’t swim yet, which left him just one option.

The stepping-stones.

He felt sick as he remembered his fall: smashing his face against the rock, the pain, the swirling current. Then he remembered the orange-and-white cat’s amber gaze burning through the green water. He had to make it to the Moonstone and talk to her. He had to find out if everything that had happened since the accident—Hailstar changing his name, being left in the nursery on his own—was part of his great destiny. How could it be? Nothing had been great. Everything had been terrible. But, if it was part of his destiny, he would bear it. He could bear anything to be truly great.

Pushing through the bushes, he slithered down the bank onto the muddy shore. The river was shallow and sluggish, lightly dappled by raindrops. It looked harmless now, lapping at the stones, but Crookedkit knew its power. It had washed away his Clan’s home. It had nearly killed him.

Ahead, the stepping-stones shone, wet with rain. An owl shrieked in the trees beyond Sunningrocks. Crookedkit sniffed the air, searching for fresh ThunderClan scent, but smelled only his Clanmates. Timberfur had passed this way recently, leading the dusk patrol home. Fallowtail must have been with him; the tang of her paw steps was still fresh on the grass.

Crookedkit paused. Very fresh. Was she still here? Ducking, he scanned the shore and hoped his pale brown tabby pelt wouldn’t show in the dark; but he could not hide his scent, especially now that it was tinged with fear. Ears stretched, he listened, but heard nothing beyond the river’s murmuring and the soft patter of rain on leaves. Crookedkit took a deep breath and made a dash for the stepping-stones. Tensing, he leaped and landed, sure-pawed, on the first stone. The river flowed dizzyingly around him as he jumped to the next. He was definitely bigger than the last time he’d tried to cross the river. His paws gripped the stones more firmly, and they didn’t seem so far apart. He focused his gaze on the far shore and crossed the rest of the stones without hesitating, landing on the other side with a sigh of relief.

Sunningrocks rose into the dark, drizzly sky. Clouds hid the moon and Crookedkit had to squint to see his paws on the sandy shore beneath him. His hackles lifted as he smelled ThunderClan scent drifting down from the new borderline. Was Hailstar ever going to fight for this land?

Flexing his claws, Crookedkit headed upstream. He followed the shore, slinking into the bushes as he passed the RiverClan camp on the other side of the river. The path began to climb steadily. He was deep in ThunderClan territory now. Scent marked every bush, and he closed his mouth so the foul stench didn’t touch his tongue. His ears twitched. Beyond the soft gurgling of the river, he heard water thundering. He must be nearing the falls where Brambleberry collected coltsfoot. Crookedkit sniffed, tasting the zest of it in the air and the stone tang of splashing water beyond.

The path grew steeper, climbing beside the river, the shore now a rising cliff that grew higher and higher with every paw step. Crookedkit peered over the edge. Far below him, the river rushed past, swirling in the moonlight through a deep rocky channel. The thundering water grew louder, echoing from the rock and, as Crookedkit rounded a corner, he saw the falls for the first time. Higher than any tree, throwing droplets up toward the moon, the river plunged straight down where the land fell away, hurtling into the deep gorge.

Crookedkit stiffened, suddenly aware of how narrow the path had grown. Sheer rock rose on one side and plummeted down on the other. He flinched away from the precipice, grazing his pelt on the cliff face, and flattened his ears against the roar of water as he pressed on. The graveled path scratched his paws and wind whipped rain across his muzzle. It smelled peaty and rich with the scent of pollen.