She was still staring at him.
He swallowed back irritation. Were all ThunderClan cats this rude?
“Unless”—he flicked his tail under her nose—“my tail goes the same way. Then Hailstar might have to rethink.”
The gray cat shifted her paws. Crookedpaw frowned. Okay. ThunderClan cats are rude. “I should have guessed cats would stare at me.”
“I’m sorry!” Guilt sparked in her gaze. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
Crookedpaw lifted his chin. “I’d better get used to it,” he mewed. “Until everyone gets used to me.” Why bother being upset over something he couldn’t change? “At least no one forgets my name,” he pointed out. “What’s yours?”
“Bluepaw.”
Crookedpaw sat back on his haunches and looked at her. “You’re not very blue.”
Bluepaw purred. “I look more blue in daylight.”
Crookedpaw glanced around at the Clans. “Is this your first Gathering?”
Bluepaw shook her head.
“Then you know what’s going on?” he asked. “What do the leaders talk about?”
“If you listened you might find out!” Cedarpelt hissed sharply.
Crookedpaw ducked forward and whispered in Bluepaw’s ear. “Which one is Pinestar?”
Bluepaw flicked her tail toward a reddish-brown tom on the rock. Oh, yes! Crookedpaw recognized him from Sunningrocks. The ThunderClan leader’s eyes shone green in the moonlight, his powerful shoulders rippling as he moved to give Hailstar more space.
“Why haven’t you come before?” Bluepaw was looking at him curiously. “You must have been an apprentice for moons.”
“I was apprenticed late,” Crookedpaw whispered. “I was a pretty sickly kit.” Why bother giving the details? “Not anymore though.” He puffed out his chest. “I think I surprised my Clanmates by growing this big.”
Bluepaw’s whiskers twitched. Warmth lit her blue eyes.
“Hush!” A pretty tortoiseshell warrior leaned over. “The leaders are speaking.”
“Sorry.” Crookedpaw waited for her to turn away, then whispered in Bluepaw’s ear, “Which one’s Heatherstar?” He wanted to know what Willowkit’s new leader looked like.
“The small one. Cedarstar’s next to her.” ShadowClan’s leader. Bluepaw nodded toward a small knot of cats gathered at the side of the Great Rock. Brambleberry was sitting with them and Crookedpaw guessed they must be the Clans’ medicine cats. “That’s Goosefeather, our medicine cat…”
Crookedpaw blinked. It was the cat who’d chased him on the stepping-stones, when he’d fallen in. He scowled. If that fleabag hadn’t chased me, I wouldn’t have broken my jaw. I’d be Stormpaw now! I might even be a warrior—
Bluepaw interrupted his thoughts. “… and the white cat is Sagewhisker, the ShadowClan medicine cat.” She shuddered as she pointed out a tom beside Sagewhisker. “That’s Hawkheart.” There was a snarl in her mew.
“Don’t you like him?”
“He killed my mother.”
Crookedpaw swallowed. At least Rainflower’s still alive. Without thinking, he touched Bluepaw’s cheek with his tail, whisking it away as he remembered she was from another Clan. “Where are the deputies?” he asked quickly.
A bright ginger tom turned his sharp yellow gaze on them. “The ThunderClan deputy is right in front of you, and he’ll pull out your whiskers if you don’t do as you’re told and be quiet!”
Crookedpaw rolled his eyes at Bluepaw. Were all senior warriors bossy? She stifled a purr as she turned to watch the leaders. Crookedpaw followed her gaze. The Great Rock was sunk deep into the earth, as though dropped from Silverpelt by StarClan.
Heatherstar stood at the edge. “We have restocked our medicine supplies.” Her eyes flashed toward the ThunderClan cats. “And all our elders and kits have finally recovered from the unprovoked attack by ThunderClan.”
A ThunderClan tom growled. “We fought only warriors! No kit or elder was attacked.”
“Or stolen.” Crookedpaw heard Ottersplash’s bitter mew. The white-and-ginger she-cat was staring at Reedfeather.
The WindClan warrior turned. “They weren’t stolen,” he growled. “They were taken home.”
A WindClan tom beside him snapped his head around and glared at Ottersplash. She didn’t flinch, meeting the gaze, chin high. Owlfur pushed through the crowd and lined up beside Ottersplash.
“Calm down,” Cedarpelt warned through gritted teeth. “Don’t forget the truce.”
Owlfur narrowed his eyes. “Like Hailstar’s forgotten Willowkit and Graykit?”
“I’m glad Fallowtail’s not here,” Beetlenose hissed over the heads of a knot of ThunderClan warriors.
Reedfeather whipped around and stared at the young tom. “Let her come next time,” he snarled. “Then I can tell her how much our kits prefer eating rabbit to fish!”
Crookedpaw unsheathed his claws. Pelts were bristling around him. Growls rumbled ominously. Bluepaw tensed. Crookedpaw smelled her fear scent. He stared at the leaders on the rock. They shifted their paws, as though each was unwilling to be the first to call for calm.
“Great StarClan! It’s cold!” Crookedpaw pressed against Bluepaw, hoping to distract her. She flinched at his touch, then relaxed.
Pinestar stepped forward. “ThunderClan is thriving despite the snow.”
Beetlenose was pushing through the crowd toward Reedfeather. “No cat with a drop of RiverClan blood could enjoy rabbit,” he snarled. Reedfeather’s hackles lifted. He showed his teeth as Beetlenose neared him.
“Beetlenose!” Shellheart slid through the crowd, blocking the young warrior’s path. “What in the name of StarClan do you think you’re doing?” He pressed Beetlenose back, steering him to the edge of the crowd and clamping the black warrior’s tail to the ground with one paw. “Stay here!”
Hailstar was padding to the edge of the Great Rock. The RiverClan leader lifted his muzzle. “RiverClan has been free from Twolegs since the snows came.”
“Except those Twoleg kits!” Ottersplash called.
Owlfur answered his Clanmate. “They won’t be back for a while!”
Crookedpaw purred. “That’ll teach them to slide on the ice.”
Bluepaw gasped. “Did they fall in?”
“They only got their paws wet,” Crookedpaw reassured her. “Mouse-brains!” He felt pleased he’d used a ThunderClan word. “Every RiverClan kit knows to stay off the ice unless a warrior’s tested it first.”
Hailstar flicked his tail. “Fishing is good despite the ice.” His gaze scanned his Clan. Crookedpaw leaned forward, excited, as it settled on Oakheart. “And we have one new warrior. Welcome, Oakheart!”
WindClan cheered, ShadowClan’s voices joining them in welcoming the Clan’s newest warrior.
“That’s my brother,” Crookedpaw told Bluepaw.
She blinked at him. “Who?”
“Oakheart,” Crookedpaw explained. “He’s my littermate.”
Bluepaw stretched up to get a better view.
“He’s great,” Crookedpaw purred proudly. “He caught a fish on his first day as an apprentice.” The day I ran away. He pushed the memory away. “He says that when he becomes leader, he’ll make me deputy.” Should I warn him I plan on being leader first?
“I have a sister,” Bluepaw shot back. She nodded toward a snowy she-cat sitting a tail-length away. “She’s a brilliant hunter, too.”
“Maybe if they both become leader we could be deputies together,” Crookedpaw mewed politely.