Crookedkit licked the blood from his nose. “Didn’t touch us,” he breathed.
Soot wriggled in Fleck’s jaws. “Crookedkit saved me!” she squeaked.
Crookedkit frowned at her. “Next time, stay with your mother.” He followed Fleck back across the path the monster had cut and through the corn to the edge of the field. Squeezing underneath the hedge, he padded trembling out the other side and saw Mitzi huddling her kits close to her. A purr shook her as she saw Soot in Fleck’s jaws.
The farm cat placed the kit at her mother’s paws. “Crookedkit reached her just in time.”
Mitzi stared at him, eyes glowing. “You saved my kit,” she whispered.
Crookedkit was shaking too hard to reply.
“You really are a warrior.” Mitzi leaned forward and licked the blood from his muzzle.
“You could’ve been killed,” Fleck grunted.
Crookedkit glanced over his shoulder at the monster still prowling across the cornfield. What if something like that threatened his Clan? “I need to go home,” he murmured.
“But you’re safe now,” Fleck reassured him. “The monster won’t come on this side of the hedge.”
“I’m not running away.” Crookedkit swallowed. “I’ve finished running away.” He knew he had to go back and become a warrior. This life wasn’t his destiny. It couldn’t be. He was glad he’d saved Soot. But that was just the beginning. He was destined to be great—not a great farm cat but a great warrior. Maybe the greatest warrior ever. He didn’t care if his Clan thought he was too small or too ugly. He would make them see that his heart was still as brave as any of them. And as loyal. He dipped his head.
“I’ll never forget you,” he promised. He was finding it difficult to swallow, especially with Soot, Mist, Magpie, and Piper gazing at him with enormous eyes. “I wish I could stay forever, but I don’t belong here.” He could see Fleck and Mitzi struggling to understand. “I’m a Clan cat,” he whispered. “I have to go home.”
Chapter 9
As the path sloped beneath his paws, Crookedkit heard the roar of the waterfall. He had walked all night, crossing the Thunderpath and slipping through WindClan territory undetected. The sky was growing light beyond the trees. The camp would be stirring soon. He hurried down the path beside the gorge. It seemed narrower than last time he’d passed this way. He had grown. He was also more sure-pawed and he didn’t peer nervously over the edge, but kept his gaze fixed ahead where he could just make out the river snaking into RiverClan territory below.
He wondered if Mist, Soot, Magpie, and Piper were awake yet. Perhaps Fleck had offered to watch them while Mitzi went hunting. Were the kits asking about him, wanting to know where he had gone and when he would be back? Crookedkit’s heart twisted. He missed them already. But he was going home.
As the path flattened out along the bank and the bushes grew lush, he smelled the familiar scents of RiverClan and strained to see the reed bed bordering the camp. But mist shrouded the river, betraying the coming of leaf-fall. It wove around him as he skirted the shore below Sunningrocks. By the ThunderClan stench lingering there, Crookedkit guessed with a prickle of irritation that Hailstar still had not reclaimed RiverClan’s land.
The stepping-stones were hardly visible in the mist, each stone only appearing when he’d reached the one before. He landed on the pebbly shore and scrambled up the short, steep bank. The grassy path was soft on his tired paws.
“Crookedkit?” A voice hailed from the mist and the dark shape of Mudfur emerged on the path ahead. Rippleclaw and Echomist flanked him, the silver of their pelts as familiar as their scent.
“You’re alive!” Echomist’s joyful mew rang in the dawn air.
Mudfur swished his tail. “I’m going to get Shellheart.”
Before Crookedkit could speak, Mudfur had darted back toward camp and Echomist had run to him and was licking him fiercely between the ears. “Where were you? We’ve been worried sick. We thought a fox had taken you.”
Her warm, familiar scent enfolded him. Crookedkit stared at his paws, hot with shame. She thought I was dead. “I’m sorry.”
Rippleclaw stiffened, his gaze narrow. “Then you did run away. Cedarpelt was right.”
Crookedkit nodded. “But I came back.”
“Why?” Rippleclaw curled his lip. “Couldn’t you make it as a loner?”
Crookedkit flinched. “I never stopped being a RiverClan cat.”
Rippleclaw tasted the air. “You don’t smell like a RiverClan cat.”
Echomist hissed at the black-and-silver warrior. “You should be pleased he’s safe!”
“RiverClan doesn’t need warriors who run—”
Rippleclaw was cut short by the pounding of paws and Shellheart slowed to a halt beside him. The RiverClan deputy stared at Crookedkit. “You’ve grown.” His eyes shone.
Oakpaw pelted past his father and brushed around Crookedkit, purring loudly. “You look great! Where have you been?”
“I went to find the Moonstone,” Crookedkit began to explain.
“Did you get lost?” Oakpaw mewed.
“Come on,” Shellheart interrupted. “Hailstar will want to see you.” He pressed against Crookedkit as he escorted him back to camp, a low purr rumbling through his pelt.
Crookedkit felt butterflies in his belly when he saw the wall of reeds that surrounded the camp. “Is Rainflower okay?” he whispered to Shellheart.
“She’s fine,” he reassured. “Everyone’s fine.” He ducked through the sedge tunnel. Crookedkit followed, Oakpaw on his tail and Echomist purring behind.
Hailstar was already in the clearing. Mudfur paced beside him, his eyes bright. Troutclaw, Tanglewhisker, and Birdsong were trotting down the slope from the elders’ den. Brightsky and Lakeshine paced the edge of the clearing, exchanging whispers. Crookedkit pricked his ears as Fallowtail hurried from her den and joined them.
“Can you believe he’s back?” he heard the brown warrior murmur.
Piketooth and Shimmerpelt sat together, tails neatly wrapped over their forepaws. Timberfur was shaking out his wet pelt beside the reed beds while Ottersplash slid, yawning, from her den.
“Softwing! Wake up!” The white-and-ginger she-cat stared in amazement at Crookedkit. “Whitefang! Come and see!”
Crookedkit watched them pad sleepily from their dens. The two apprentices must have been given their warrior names while he was away. He glanced at the apprentices’ den. Who else had been made a warrior? He couldn’t help feeling a prick of relief as Volepaw, Beetlepaw, and Petalpaw scrambled out.
“Crookedkit’s back!” Petalpaw raced to greet him, Volepaw on her tail.
“You’re bigger!” Volepaw purred.
Beetlepaw narrowed his eyes. “He’s fatter.” He sniffed. “Like a kittypet.”
“I’m no kittypet!” Crookedkit growled.
“Who’s been feeding you then?” Beetlenose challenged.
Crookedkit lifted his chin. “I’ve been hunting for myself.”
“Really?” Hailstar padded toward him, broad shoulders specked with dew from the morning mist. “Not bad for a kit not yet out of the nursery.” His voice betrayed surprise.
Crookedkit warily searched the RiverClan leader’s gaze, relieved to see warmth brimming in his amber eyes.
“You’ve had everyone very worried,” Hailstar growled. “But it’s good to have you home.”
Rippleclaw padded into camp. “Are you going to take him back that easily?” he muttered.
Tanglewhisker snorted. “Of course he is! Crookedkit’s one of us.”
Birdsong leaned against her mate. “That’s right. We are warriors, not rogues,” she rasped. “We don’t turn on our own Clanmates!”