“I have put my Clan first.” Anger surged beneath his pelt. “Don’t tell me that I haven’t!” He squared up against her. Mapleshade stared back as vicious as a fox. Why was she suddenly so mean? StarClan cats weren’t supposed to be mean! Crookedjaw had become a warrior. She should be proud. Confused, he turned and fled.
Swerving between the dark trees, he raced through the tangled, slippery undergrowth. Mist swirled around him and he slipped and staggered as he ran, fighting to keep his balance as trunks loomed from the fog, and the undergrowth seemed to grab for his paws. Heart pounding, he slowed. He was tired and he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be back in his nest. He stumbled to a halt, hanging his head as he caught his breath.
“You’re back.”
The croaking mew made him jump. Crookedjaw squinted and made out a shape in the shadows up ahead. It shambled toward him and he recognized the pelt. “Goosefeather?” The ThunderClan medicine cat was here again. He must share his dreams with StarClan a lot.
Goosefeather dipped his head. “Mapleshade’s apprentice.” He padded closer and sniffed Crookedjaw’s pelt. “I’ve been hearing rumors about you.”
Crookedjaw backed away. “From who?”
“Don’t forget I share with StarClan.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Crookedjaw’s paws pricked. Were the old cat’s whiskers twitching?
“I suppose you could say that.”
What did he mean? “What does StarClan say about me?”
Goosefeather circled Crookedjaw slowly. “That you could be a great warrior.”
Crookedjaw sensed the old tom’s gaze flicking over his pelt. “Really?” He brightened.
“Don’t take any notice of that old fool.” Mapleshade’s mew made him turn. She’d caught up to him. She must have run fast, yet she looked as cool as ever and her breath was slow and steady.
Goosefeather glanced at her, amusement lighting his gaze. “I may be an old fool,” he rasped. “But at least my heart is true.” He padded past Crookedjaw and stopped in front of Mapleshade. “My heart isn’t soured by bitterness or guided by revenge.”
Crookedjaw padded closer. “What do you mean?”
Goosefeather ignored him. “You should tread the path you’re following with care, Mapleshade. A destiny shouldn’t be played with like prey.”
Mapleshade barged past the old ThunderClan medicine cat. “Ignore him, Crookedjaw. His mind has been addled by too many visions.”
Crookedjaw met her gaze. “At least he speaks to me like an equal,” he challenged.
Mapleshade broke into a purr. “You’re not upset because I reminded you of your promise, are you?” She pressed against him, guiding him forward, away from Goosefeather. “Maybe I was a little harsh, but I was frightened that you were forgetting your destiny. I want you to be the greatest warrior RiverClan has ever known—the greatest any Clan will ever know. Willowpaw is a sweet, pretty cat and I’m not surprised you’re fond of her. But the sweetest traps are often the most dangerous. She will soften you and sway you from your course.” She halted. “You do still want to be a great warrior, don’t you?”
“Yes!” Crookedjaw cried.
“Very good.” Mapleshade stopped him with a flick of her tail. “That is all I ask.” She padded on into the mist, her voice trailing after her. “Everything I do, Crookedjaw, I do with your best interests at heart.”
Chapter 20
A warm wind set the four great oaks whispering above the Clans. Thick with foliage now, they’d lost their leaf-bare starkness. After moons of going to Gatherings, Crookedjaw had learned the names and pelts of most of the other Clans and, with the truce, he felt comfortable moving among them. Besides, the warmer weather had smoothed tempers. He followed his Clanmates into the clearing where they melted into the chattering flock of cats. Owlfur and Brightsky joined a group of warriors who were comparing apprentices loudly.
“It’s been a good batch in ThunderClan this year,” Adderfang boasted.
Crookedjaw watched as Brambleberry hailed the medicine cats gathered below the Great Rock. “Featherwhisker!” She greeted Goosefeather’s apprentice first, touching her muzzle to his head before turning to the others.
Ottersplash headed straight for Patchpelt, a ThunderClan warrior. “Has Leopardfoot kitted yet?” she asked.
Seeing Ottersplash’s round belly, Crookedjaw wondered if she wouldn’t beat Leopardfoot to it. She hadn’t moved to the nursery yet but surely she had to be expecting kits? Even in newleaf, no RiverClan cat got that fat. He stopped beside Oakheart. “Why do she-cats always put off going to the nursery till the last minute?” Both Shimmerpelt and Lakeshine had waited a moon.
Oakheart shrugged. “You’d think they’d like lying around all day having fresh-kill brought to them.”
Paws scuffed the ground behind him. Crookedjaw smelled Rainflower’s scent. “Has it occurred to you that they might enjoy helping their Clan?” she pointed out. “Wouldn’t you find it hard to give up being a warrior?”
Oakheart sniffed. “I’m just glad I don’t have to sleep in the nursery,” he meowed. “I had to stick my paws in my ears last night. Sunkit and Frogkit were mewling their ears off.”
“Hi, Poppydawn.” Crookedjaw nodded to a dark red ThunderClan she-cat as she passed. “Are Sweetpaw, Rosepaw, and Thistlepaw here?”
“No.” Poppydawn sighed. “Thistlepaw’s in trouble with Smallear again.”
Windflight, her mate, shook his head. “Sweetpaw and Rosepaw stayed behind to cheer him up.”
Crookedjaw purred. “They sound loyal.”
Poppydawn dipped her head as Crookedjaw praised her kits. “They are,” she meowed proudly.
Tanglewhisker trotted past them. “Mumblefoot!” he called to the ThunderClan elder.
“Wait for me!” Birdsong hurried after him as her mate greeted Mumblefoot and Whiteberry, a WindClan elder.
Oakheart watched the old cats. “They’d talk the night away if they could,” he joked. He caught Crookedjaw’s eye. “So, how does it feel to be a warrior instead of an apprentice at the Gathering?”
Crookedjaw flicked his tail happily. He was the equal of any cat here. “It feels great.”
Willowpaw broke away from a knot of apprentices demonstrating their latest moves. “Graypaw can be such a show-off!” She glanced sharply back at her sister, who was twisting in the air like a salmon trying to climb a waterfall.
Crookedjaw fizzed with mischief. “Why don’t you go and show them how she snores?”
“I’m not sure they’re ready for that,” Willowpaw returned, purring.
Rainflower beckoned Oakheart. “Have you met Talltail yet? He’ll be WindClan’s leader one day. You should get to know him.” As she led him away, Crookedjaw spotted Bluepaw. He hadn’t seen her since the battle. His nose stung as he remembered the wounds she’d inflicted. Not bad for a ThunderClan cat. He padded toward her. “You fought well.”
She flattened her ears. “I fight even better now that I’m a warrior. My name is Bluefur.”
He broke into a purr. “I’ve got my warrior name, too!”
“Crookedjaw?”
He purred. “How did you guess?”
“Because your tail’s still straight.”
As she joked with him, he felt a prick of guilt. She had no idea that RiverClan planned to reclaim Sunningrocks as soon as the moon had waned. He pushed away the thought. She was a rival, pure and simple.
A yowl sounded from the Great Rock. “Let the Gathering begin.”
Pinestar stood at the edge of the stone, moonlight gleaming in his pelt. Hailstar was silhouetted behind him with Heatherstar and Cedarstar. Crookedjaw was swept forward beside Bluefur as the Clans crowded around the rock. Pinestar stepped back and Cedarstar took his place.