“Why?” Graypaw mewed as Brambleberry nosed her from the den.
Brambleberry turned back to her supplies. “You’ll see.”
Cedarpelt, Brightsky, and Owlfur were waiting by the entrance. Crookedpaw hurried to join them. “Don’t you need herbs?”
“We had some earlier,” Brightsky explained.
Owlfur nodded to Willowpaw. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Her voice suddenly sounded very small. Was she overwhelmed, traveling all the way to the Moonstone on her first day as an apprentice?
Crookedpaw felt a surge of excitement. He’d traveled part of this journey before, but now he wasn’t alone. He was with his Clanmates. And if he had a chance to dream at the Moonstone, he’d probably meet the whole of StarClan and not just Mapleshade.
The cats kept to the edge of WindClan territory, wary of patrols.
“I know WindClan has honorable warriors,” Cedarpelt told Graypaw. “But there’s no need to stir up memories by marching you right past their camp.”
Crookedpaw couldn’t help wondering if it was WindClan’s memories or Graypaw’s that Cedarpelt was frightened of stirring up. He was relieved when they reached the WindClan scent line. Beyond it, the world seemed to open like a water lily. The wide valley between the moors and Highstones was green with newleaf growth. The sun warmed Crookedpaw’s back as they padded along the hedgerows that bordered the Twoleg meadows. From time to time, he recognized a familiar scent on his tongue, and for the first time in moons he longed to taste mouse.
“Crookedpaw!” Cedarpelt’s call startled him.
He suddenly realized that he’d veered off the track they’d been following and was staring through a beech hedge into a furrowed field of mud.
“Keep up!” Cedarpelt ordered.
Crookedpaw raced after his Clanmates. Was that Mitzi’s cornfield? He glanced sideways through the hedge as he caught up with Willowpaw. Where was the golden corn? Then he remembered the giant corn-eating monster and bristled.
Willowpaw looked at him. “Are you okay? It must be weird, coming back here after so long.”
“I’m fine.”
She slowed her pace and they fell behind the others. “You’re thinking about Fleck, aren’t you?”
“Weren’t you thinking about WindClan when you were traveling through the moorland?” he countered.
Her gaze flicked away. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
Crookedpaw sighed. “It’s possible to care about cats outside the Clan and be loyal.”
“Is it?”
“Crookedkit!” A loud mew made them both turn.
A black cat stood a few tail-lengths behind them on the track.
“Soot?” Crookedpaw gasped.
The young she-cat ran toward him. She was as big as Willowpaw now. “I didn’t think you’d come back!”
“We’re going to the Moonstone,” Crookedpaw explained.
Cedarpelt’s growl rumbled behind them. “What’s going on?”
Crookedpaw whirled around, heart lurching. Was Cedarpelt going to chase Soot off?
“I-it’s just a cat I knew when…” He stammered to a halt as Cedarpelt glowered at him.
“Wow!” Soot breathed. “A real warrior!” She stared at Cedarpelt. “You’re so big.” Her green eyes were wide.
Cedarpelt growled softly.
Crookedpaw stood between his mentor and Soot and met Cedarpelt’s gaze. “She’s hardly more than a kit.” There was a warning in his mew. “She’s not doing any harm.”
Cedarpelt narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be long,” he muttered, and stalked back to where Owlfur, Brightsky, and Graypaw were waiting farther up the track. “Leave them alone, Willowpaw!” he called. “It’s bad enough having one apprentice hanging out with farm cats.”
Crookedpaw ignored the jibe. “How are you?” he purred to Soot. “How are Fleck and Mitzi? And Piper and Magpie and Mist?”
“Fleck’s fine!” Soot wound around Crookedpaw, brushing against him and purring. “So are Mitzi and Piper.” Then she paused. “I think Mist and Magpie are okay. Some Twolegs came and took them away. Fleck says they were going to catch mice on another farm. What about you? Are you a warrior yet?”
Crookedpaw shook his head. “No, but I’m an apprentice. I’m Crookedpaw now.”
Soot blinked. “Is that good?”
“It’s great!”
“Hurry up!” Cedarpelt called.
“I’ve got to go.” Crookedpaw felt a tug in his chest.
“I’ll tell Fleck and Mitzi I saw you,” Soot promised. “They’ll be pleased you’re okay.”
“Tell them I said…” He reached for the right words, something that would let them know he missed them and he was grateful but he was also happy to be back with his Clan.
Soot’s eyes glowed. “I understand,” she mewed. “I’ll tell them.”
Cedarpelt was lashing his tail. “Come on!”
Crookedpaw began to back away from Soot. “I’m really glad I saw you.”
“Me too!” The young cat waved her tail as Crookedpaw turned and sprinted to catch up with his Clanmates.
“Everything okay?” Willowpaw asked in a whisper as he fell in beside her.
Crookedpaw nodded, one eye on his mentor’s flicking tail. It’s not up to Cedarpelt to tell me who I can be friends with! Those cats made me feel wanted when my Clanmates didn’t. I’m never going to forget that.
Highstones reared above them, the setting sun melting over its peaks. The last Thunderpath had been the hardest to cross, the gaps between monsters so narrow that Willowpaw was still trembling from the mad dash across the slippery stone. Crookedpaw forced his pelt to lie flat even though his heart was still racing. Brightsky led them quickly away from the bitter stench up toward the foot of Highstones. The earth was darker here, the grass coarser underpaw, giving way to bare, rocky soil dotted with patches of clinging heather.
“Look!” Willowpaw tilted her chin.
Crookedpaw screwed up his eyes against the sun sliding down behind the peaks. As it disappeared, the shadowed slope lightened and he could make out a square black hole yawning darkly beneath a stone archway.
Graypaw gasped. “Is that Mothermouth?”
“Yes.” Owlfur climbed onto a wide, smooth stone and sat down. “But we have to wait till nearly moonhigh before we go in.”
“I’m hungry,” Willowpaw complained.
Brightsky shook her head. “No fish or birds here,” she meowed sympathetically.
Crookedpaw pricked his ears. “There may be mice.” He tasted the air. There was definitely a musky scent worth investigating.
Cedarpelt turned. “Mice?”
“They’re easy to hunt,” Crookedpaw enthused.
“Not as nice as fish,” Brightsky meowed. “But I suppose they’ll fill your belly.”
“If you can catch one,” Cedarpelt snorted.
Is that a challenge? Crookedpaw hurried away across the slope, ears scanning the gravelly earth for the scrabbling of tiny paws. He ducked behind a patch of heather and waited. The sky darkened and stars began to prick the sky. Crookedpaw’s nose twitched.
Mouse?
He peered through the shadows. Something was shifting the pebbles farther along the slope. It smelled musky but was making a lot of noise for a mouse. Suddenly a pale tabby shape sped past and leaped skidding over the shale, sending pebbles cracking across the slope. Crookedpaw darted out from behind the heather and stared round-eyed as Willowpaw turned and lifted her head. A dead rabbit hung from her jaws. She carried it back to her Clanmates.
Crookedpaw stiffened. What would Owlfur say? RiverClan cats didn’t catch rabbits! He followed Willowpaw and climbed up onto the rock where his Clanmates had settled. They sat staring at the dead rabbit, their fur twitching.