A growl made him turn. Two giant eyes lit the stone path. A monster was storming straight toward him! He’d heard nursery stories about monsters. It was even more terrifying than Echomist—eyes wide, pelt bristling—had described. Huge, sharp-edged creatures with hard shiny pelts and yellow beams shooting from their eyes. Their round black paws smelled of burning stone, and the air shuddered with noise even before they appeared. But monsters were stupid, clinging to the Thunderpath as if they were afraid of venturing on to soft grass or into trees. A cat could outwit them by holding his or her nerve and getting out of the way.
Crookedkit backed away from the Thunderpath as the monster screamed by. Wind howled as it passed and its stench bathed his pelt. Fur on end, heart bursting, Crookedkit clung to the earth.
And then it was gone.
Thank StarClan, it didn’t see me!
Crookedkit opened his eyes. The rabbit lay in front of him, flat, on the hard black stone. Blood pooled around from its mouth and Crookedkit shivered. The monster had killed it without even slowing down to take a bite or snap its neck. He looked back up the slope. The warriors had gone.
His breath shallow, Crookedkit padded shakily across the Thunderpath. He paused beside the rabbit, wondering whether to drag it to the grass at the edge. It was, after all, fresh-kill now. But its dead, open eyes made him shudder and he hurried past it and dodged into the safety of the hedge on the far side. Trembling, he crouched down and let his terror slowly ebb away.
Highstones was ahead of him, still distant beyond rolling fields. Crookedkit straightened up and followed the hedgerow. Keeping to the edges of the open meadows, where he couldn’t be seen by any passing foxes or badgers, he pushed on, his belly growling and jaw aching. The moon climbed over Highstones and slid down behind them. Crookedkit paused. The stars were disappearing as the edges of the sky began to turn pale. He wasn’t going to make it to Highstones before dawn. He wasn’t even close.
Ahead, a stone wall marked the edge of another meadow. Crookedkit squeezed through a hole where the stones had collapsed. A huge nest rose ahead of him, four-sided with strips of black wood covering the walls and a curved roof. Its entrance was blocked by a smooth slab of paler wood, but a tiny hole next to it showed darkness inside, warm and sweet-smelling. It might be a safe place to rest. Crookedkit tasted the air and inhaled the scent of dry grass. More tired than he’d ever been in his life, he padded up to the small opening. He could just make out piles of dried stalks stacked high in the giant space inside the nest. There was no sign of life, no warrior scent. Paws heavy as stones, Crookedkit slithered inside and found a dark corner. Too weary to figure out where he was, he curled into a ball, tucked his nose under his paw, and gave in to sleep.
Chapter 7
“Crookedkit!”
Crookedkit opened his eyes. The straw he’d curled up in had vanished. Instead, he was standing on damp earth. Trees crowded around him, their trunks wet with moss, roots snaking into slimy soil. Mist swirled and darkness pressed down through their branches, hiding the sky. Crookedkit unsheathed his claws as sour scents bathed his tongue.
“Crookedkit!” the voice called again. Amber eyes gleamed from the shadows. “How could you leave your Clan?”
“I—I wanted to visit the Moonstone.” Crookedkit blinked, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. The amber eyes flashed and an orange-and-white she-cat padded out of the trees. The StarClan cat! She’s come back! “What is this place?” he meowed.
The cat weaved around him, her pelt warm in the chilled air. “You’re dreaming, little one.”
“Dreaming?” Crookedkit’s pelt ruffled. Why would he dream of a place like this?
“Why go all the way to the Moonstone to speak with StarClan?” The orange-and-white cat stopped in front of him. “You can ask me anything, right here in your dreams.”
“I was right! You are a StarClan cat!” Crookedkit gasped.
The cat dipped her head. “My name is Mapleshade. What is it you want to know, little one?”
“My destiny,” Crookedkit burst out.
“Everything that happens to you is part of your destiny.”
“But the accident? And not becoming an apprentice?” The words rushed out. “Was all that supposed to happen?”
Mapleshade weaved around him, her soft pelt brushing his. “Oh, you poor thing,” she sighed. “Your path is not an easy one. But StarClan would never have given such a hard path to a cat who wasn’t strong and brave and loyal.”
“Really?” Crookedkit shuffled his paws. “Then I am special.”
Mapleshade rested her muzzle on his head. “Of course you’re special.”
Suddenly he remembered Rainflower’s scent. She used to speak to him like this. He pulled away. “How?” he demanded. “How am I special?”
Mapleshade shook her head. “I can’t tell you that yet.”
“Why not?”
“First you must return to your Clan.” Mapleshade’s eyes darkened. “A true warrior is loyal.”
“I was only traveling to the Moonstone.”
“There’s no need to go there now.”
“I guess not.” Crookedkit glanced at his paws. He’d been looking forward to telling his Clanmates he’d visited the Moonstone. “What will I tell everyone?”
“That you’re sorry and you’ll never leave again.” Mapleshade flicked her tail beneath his chin. “They must know you’re loyal.”
Crookedkit straightened. “I am!”
“Then you’ll go back?”
Crookedkit nodded. “Which way do I go?” He glanced around the forest. “I… I think I’m lost.”
A purr rumbled in Mapleshade’s throat. “Close your eyes, little one.” She brushed her fluffy white tail over his muzzle. “And when you wake, you’ll know where to go.”
Crookedkit closed his eyes and let darkness claim him.
Crookedkit rolled over and stretched. The air was stifling. He sneezed and rubbed a paw across his itchy muzzle, then opened his eyes and saw loose dry grasses. They were stacked high above him and smelled woody. Sun streamed in, dancing with dust. He was back in the nest he’d found the night before.
Sitting up, Crookedkit yawned. Then you’ll go back? Mapleshade’s words echoed in his ears. Suddenly he remembered Rainflower’s weary mew, telling him to get down from the tree, and his Clanmates sending him off to play on his own. Crookedkit sighed. What if I don’t want to go back? Suddenly his belly growled. I’m starving!
Crookedkit pricked his ears. Was that a squeak? He dropped into a crouch and crept across the dusty floor. Mouth open, he let the scents of the nest bathe his tongue. A musky odor filled his nose. Mouse? Maybe. He’d never smelled mouse but he’d heard elders’ descriptions. Padding quietly, he slunk toward the wall at the back of the nest. The dusty stalks twitched in the corner. Crookedkit held his breath. His paws pricked as he bunched the muscles in his hind legs. Fixing his gaze on a soft lump beneath the straw, he prepared to leap.
“Oomph!”
A great weight dropped on his back. Fear pulsed through him as he smelled tom. But it wasn’t any Clan scent he’d ever smelled. Claws dug into his spine. Stiffening with terror, Crookedkit struggled to escape. But the tom was heavy and had a firm grip.
Crookedkit flailed unsheathed claws at the air. “Get off!”
The attacker growled, tightening his grip. “Do you surrender?”