“Exactly,” Brambleberry agreed. “And why would they leave her with us if they thought we were bad or that bad things were going to happen?”
Frogkit flexed his claws. “Can we go and see where they’re buried anyway?”
“No.” Crookedjaw nosed them toward the nursery. “Shimmerpelt and Lakeshine will be wondering where you are.”
Skykit sniffed. “Shimmerpelt’s always too busy feeding Leopardkit.”
Brambleberry smoothed the kit’s ruffled fur with her tail-tip. “Why don’t you take your mother some wet moss?” she suggested. “Feeding Leopardkit will make her thirsty. She’ll be so proud of you for being helpful to Brightsky’s kit.”
Skykit’s eyes brightened. “Okay!” She dashed away toward the reed bed.
“Don’t fall in!” Crookedjaw warned as Frogkit hurtled after her. He turned back to Brambleberry, hesitating. “Are you sure it wasn’t an omen?”
“I’m sure.”
Crookedjaw narrowed his eyes. “How can you tell what’s an omen and what isn’t?”
“An omen feels different,” Brambleberry told him.
“Can omens change things or do they just tell you what’s going to happen?” He knew Brambleberry would understand that he wasn’t just talking about the kits’ gossip.
Brambleberry met his gaze. “Sometimes they tell you what’s already happening.”
“So that you can change it?”
“So that you’re prepared for it.”
Frustration clawed at Crookedjaw’s belly. She wasn’t giving anything away. “Why don’t you just tell me about my omen—the one that worried you?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she answered softly.
“You mean there wasn’t an omen?”
“I mean it’s up to you.”
“What’s up to me?” Crookedjaw couldn’t keep the growl from his voice.
“The path you choose is in your paws,” Brambleberry meowed. “Only you can know your own heart, and that will decide whether you choose the right path or the wrong path.”
“My heart is as true and loyal as any RiverClan cat!”
“Good.”
“Let me prove it!”
“How?”
Crookedjaw searched desperately for ideas. “I don’t know! Let me help you gather herbs!” Perhaps if he spent time with her, he’d be able to persuade her he was good.
“I’ve already asked Beetlenose to help me.”
Crookedjaw swished his tail. “Okay!” he snapped. “But don’t blame me if I choose the wrong path. You’re the medicine cat! You’re supposed to help your Clanmates, not make them suffer because you won’t tell them everything.” Ears hot with fury, he stalked away.
The first light of dawn was showing behind the willow tree. Beetlenose padded from his den and greeted Brambleberry with a yawn. “I’m ready,” he muttered. He brightened as Hailstar ducked out of his den. “Can’t you get Willowbreeze to help you?” he begged Brambleberry. “This is an apprentice’s job and she’s the closest to an apprentice we’ve got.”
Brambleberry scowled back. “Stop fussing and hurry up.”
Beetlenose sighed and, casting a final, rueful look at Hailstar, followed her out of camp.
“Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words.” The RiverClan leader padded to the center of the clearing.
Crookedjaw frowned. What was the leader planning now? Whatever it was, he hoped it would cheer up the Clan. The kits weren’t the only ones who believed StarClan was punishing them.
Dens rustled and paws scuffed the ground as his Clanmates climbed from their nests and padded to hear what Hailstar wanted.
Rippleclaw’s fur was ruffled and unwashed. Piketooth sat askew, his whiskers crumpled. Even Shellheart’s shoulders drooped.
Oakheart squeezed next to Crookedjaw, his gaze bleary with sleep. “What’s going on?” He sighed. “It’s hardly dawn.”
Hailstar turned slowly, eyeing his Clan. “We took Sunningrocks back and ThunderClan didn’t even retaliate. Today we will take more of their territory.”
More? Crookedjaw looked past Hailstar to his father, who was sitting behind the RiverClan leader. He tried to read Shellheart’s gaze, but it was clear and unblinking.
Cedarpelt stepped forward. “Do we need more of their territory?” he asked.
“We need the river,” Hailstar countered. “We should control both banks beyond Sunningrocks. Which includes the forest that runs along the far side of the river.”
Owlfur tipped his head. “You want to capture forest?”
Hailstar nodded.
Troutclaw shook his graying head. “What would RiverClan do with trees?”
Rippleclaw answered the elder with a growl. “It means we’ll be able to fish the river above Sunningrocks without fear of attack.”
Willowbreeze was looking puzzled. “ThunderClan would never attack us in the water,” she pointed out. “They’re terrified of it.”
Ottersplash padded forward, her kits trotting after her. “But what if they learned to swim?” She shooed them away with her tail. “It’d give them prey all year round. As long as they control that stretch of river, there’s a chance they may learn to use it like we do.”
Troutclaw snorted. “ThunderClan is more likely to learn how to fly!”
Birdsong nodded. “RiverClan has never owned that piece of territory!”
“Patrolling it would be hard work,” Fallowtail added.
Timberfur lashed his tail. “Are you scared of hard work?”
Fallowtail flattened her ears. “Of course not!”
“It would show ThunderClan we’re strong,” Whitefang put in.
“They wouldn’t try taking Sunningrocks again,” Piketooth growled. “They’d be too busy trying to hold on to what’s left of their forest.”
“Then it’s decided.” Hailstar flexed his claws.
Whitefang circled the RiverClan leader, pelt bristling. “When do we attack?”
“Now!”
Crookedjaw stared at Hailstar in astonishment. Whitefang’s gaze shone with excitement. Rippleclaw’s, too. Timberfur clawed at the ground impatiently. But Cedarpelt watched through narrowed eyes. Fallowtail was frowning and Owlfur turned his head away, sighing.
Why isn’t he satisfied with Sunningrocks? Crookedjaw didn’t understand Hailstar’s plan. How in the name of StarClan could they win a battle fought on ThunderClan’s land? He’d seen the thick ferns and clawing brambles that choked the trees around Sunningrocks. His thick pelt rippled as he imagined getting it tangled in a thornbush.
Oakheart’s mew shook him from his thoughts. “Does Hailstar think a battle will cheer us up?”
“I guess he’s got to try something.” Crookedjaw shrugged. “Even the kits have been worried about Brightsky’s death.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ottersplash whispering to her kits. “But a battle is risky and we don’t need more grief.”
“I want to be in the attack patrol.” Ottersplash’s mew rang across the clearing.
Shimmerpelt gasped. “What about your kits?”
“Will you look after them till I return?” Ottersplash dipped her head to her denmate.
“O-of course,” Shimmerpelt stuttered. “But what if you—”
Ottersplash cut her off. “Timberfur takes that risk,” she answered sharply. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Hailstar padded across the clearing. “I’d be proud to have you fight beside me.” His eyes glowed as he surveyed the rest of his Clan. “Timberfur, Rippleclaw, Shellheart, Piketooth, and Whitefang.” He nodded to each warrior. “You’ll join us.”
For once, Crookedjaw was relieved he hadn’t been chosen. “An impressive patrol,” he commented.
Oakheart sniffed. “They believe in this battle.”