Bluepaw frowned. “Deputy? I want to be leader!”
Yeah! Me, too!
Bluepaw’s tortoiseshell Clanmate flicked her ear with a paw. “Hush!” The warrior sounded cross. “How many times do you have to be told?”
“Sorry.” Bluepaw dipped her head.
Crookedpaw turned back to the Great Rock. Cedarstar was speaking. “It is with sadness that I must announce our deputy, Stonetooth, is moving to the elders’ den.”
A thin gray tabby, standing at the foot of the rock, nodded solemnly as his Clan called his name.
“He doesn’t look so old,” Bluepaw whispered.
The gray tom’s teeth curled from under his lip like claws. Crookedpaw choked back a purr. “Just a bit long in the tooth.”
Bluepaw nudged Crookedpaw, purring, too. “He can’t help it.”
“Raggedpelt will take his place,” Cedarstar went on.
A dark brown warrior stalked from the crowd of ShadowClan cats into a pool of moonlight below the rock. Crookedpaw noticed the fur lifting along Bluepaw’s spine as Raggedpelt’s Clanmates yowled his name. She was watching the ShadowClan cats gathered at the foot of the rock through narrowed eyes. She doesn’t trust them at all. Was it just because they were ShadowClan? Maybe there would be time to ask her later.
As the leaders jumped down from the Great Rock, he watched the Clans melting into their separate groups. He tasted the air, collecting scents as he memorized as many pelts as he could.
“Come on.” Cedarpelt nudged him. “Let’s go. It’s too cold to hang around and share tongues.” He threw a look at WindClan as they climbed the other side of the hollow, heading up to the moors. “And I don’t think any Clan would want to share tongues tonight, even if it was greenleaf.”
Crookedpaw followed his mentor. “Are the Clans always so angry with one another?”
Cedarpelt twitched his ears. “Leaf-bare makes bellies hungry and tempers short.”
Oakheart’s mew made Crookedpaw jump. “What did you think?”
Crookedpaw purred as his brother fell in beside him. “It was great,” he replied. “I met a ThunderClan apprentice. She’s so much like us.” He lowered his voice. “She wants to be leader, too.”
“Doesn’t every apprentice want to be leader one day?” Oakheart answered airily.
“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about wanting to be leader now that you’re a warrior?” Crookedpaw teased.
“Never.” Oakheart’s eyes flashed and he quickened his pace, skimming the snow with long strides as he followed his Clanmates up the slope. “Come on, I’ll race you back to camp!”
Crookedpaw blinked open his eyes. He stared into the dark forest, surprised to find himself dreaming. After the Gathering, too excited to sleep, he’d stared for ages through a small crack in the den wall at the moonlight sparkling on the snowy clearing. His mind was whirling with new pelts and scents and possibilities.
“So you’ve moved among the other Clans.” Mapleshade’s mew sounded through the mist. She slid from the shadows and faced him. “What did you think?”
Crookedpaw swished his tail. “It was great!” His paws itched with excitement. “I talked to a ThunderClan apprentice. It was like talking to a Clanmate.”
Mapleshade’s eyes blazed. “Don’t ever say that!”
“But she was just like me.” Crookedpaw tipped his head to one side. “I wonder what it’s like to live in a forest and eat mice?”
Mapleshade’s breath bathed his nose. Her muzzle was a whisker from his as she snarled, “RiverClan is the only Clan that should concern you! The other Clans are no more than dust and beetles. Did you forget your promise?”
Crookedpaw shook his head, startled by her fury. “Of course not,” he mewed. “I’ll always put my Clan above everything.”
“Then start practicing your moves!” She backed away and watched as Crookedpaw reared and began to swipe at the air.
“Reach!” Mapleshade called.
Crookedpaw staggered as he stretched farther with each swipe.
“Stay up!” Mapleshade growled as he started to falter, his legs aching with effort.
Crookedpaw gritted his teeth and swiped again at thin air. Through the pain, he felt himself growing stronger, perfectly balanced and more powerful than ever before. This was the training he needed to become a leader! He wondered if Bluepaw was being trained in StarClan as well. What about Oakheart? Would he meet them here one night? Or was this his destiny alone? His promise to Mapleshade rang in his ears.
I will be loyal to my Clan above everything. What I want doesn’t matter. The Clan must always come first.
Chapter 14
“Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words!”
Crookedpaw straightened at Hailstar’s call. He dragged his numb paw from the water, hooking out the minnow he’d been groping for and dropping it beside two others that he’d caught. He’d been fishing through a narrow ice hole among the reeds. With the river frozen, prey was growing scarce, and he’d promised Cedarpelt he’d find some minnows before he settled down to share tongues with his Clanmates. Leaving his catch, he scrambled, skidding, for the shore. Snow flumped down from the bulrushes as he pushed among the thawing stems.
What did Hailstar want? The sun was sinking, turning the pale sky pink. Crookedpaw ached all over, sore from a night’s training with Mapleshade and stiff from spending the day hunting birds in the willow copse with Cedarpelt. At least it looked as though the cold weather was loosening its grip. In the two nights since the Gathering, the air had lost its aching chill. The river would be flowing again soon. He slithered from the reeds and hurried over the softening snow to the edge of the clearing.
Oakheart trotted to meet him. “There you are!”
“What’s up?” Crookedpaw glanced at Hailstar. The RiverClan leader paced the head of the clearing, hackles high. His eyes glittered. Shellheart stood behind him, tail flicking stiffly.
Oakheart ducked close to Crookedpaw. “I don’t know. Hailstar’s been meeting with Shellheart, Rippleclaw, and Timberfur all afternoon.”
Rippleclaw and Timberfur sat like rocks at the side of the clearing. Timberfur blinked, his gaze unreadable. Rippleclaw was coolly watching a blackbird flitting from bush to bush on the far bank.
“They even called for Brambleberry,” Oakheart whispered.
“Is someone sick?”
Oakheart shrugged. “Birdsong’s got a cough and Brightsky’s been sneezing since the Gathering, but that’s all.”
Beetlenose padded lazily from the fallen tree. Petaldust raced past him and stopped beside Crookedpaw. “What’s happening?”
Beetlenose caught up. “Maybe he’s going to change Crookedpaw’s name again,” he suggested. “To Scarpaw.” He stared at Crookedpaw’s muzzle. “You seem to have a fresh scratch every day.”
Crookedpaw shrugged. “I train hard.”
Voleclaw darted from the dirtplace tunnel. “What did I miss?” he panted.
“Nothing yet,” Petaldust reassured him. “The Clan’s still gathering.”
Troutclaw and Tanglewhisker had reached the clearing. Birdsong peered from the elders’ den, her eyes bright with fever. Dens rattled around the fallen tree as Rainflower, Echomist, and Mudfur slid out. Lakeshine, Softwing, and Shimmerpelt clustered together at the edge of the clearing, ears pricked. Piketooth, Owlfur, and Ottersplash paced beside them. Cedarpelt slid from the sedges, his fur ruffled, padded across the clearing, and sat beside Whitefang.
Brambleberry crouched outside Fallowtail’s den. “Come on,” she coaxed. “RiverClan needs all its warriors.”