Crookedjaw swallowed back a wail of grief. Would she care that much?
“You were very brave,” Willowbreeze told him. “Facing that dog and leading him out of the territory.”
I should have been saving my mother. The thought pounded in his head but he couldn’t bring himself to share it, even with Willowbreeze.
As the Clan melted into the edges of the camp, Shellheart emerged from beneath the willow. His eyes glazed as he stared at the mate he’d turned his back on. Crookedjaw could see the pain in them, and realized that Shellheart had never stopped loving her. The RiverClan deputy settled stiffly beside Rainflower and closed his eyes. He looked old. Crookedjaw blinked. He’d never noticed that his father’s pelt was growing ragged and gray whiskers had begun to speckle his muzzle.
Oakheart slid out from between Petaldust and Voleclaw and joined his father. He touched Shellheart’s head with his cheek, then settled beside him and pressed his nose into Rainflower’s matted pelt. Clouds covered the moon, draping the three silent figures in shadow. Crookedjaw tucked his paws tighter beneath him and closed his eyes.
I’m sorry. Was Rainflower in StarClan by now, listening to him? I shouldn’t have left you on the shore. I should have fought the dog and saved you. Would Mapleshade explain it to her? He felt a rush of hope, but grief washed it away instantly. I’m sorry for everything, Rainflower—for sneaking out of camp and breaking my jaw; for letting you die. I’ve missed you so much. I wish I could have gotten you to forgive me. He snapped open his eyes and stared up at Silverpelt. “Please forgive me,” he whispered.
Willowbreeze turned her head and licked his cheek. They slept curled up together in the warm greenleaf breeze, at the edge of the clearing. The sound of paws scuffing the sun-hardened ground woke Crookedjaw. Dawn lit the camp. The elders were taking away Rainflower’s body for burial. Shellheart and Oakheart watched, their eyes bleary with tiredness and grief. As Birdsong and Troutclaw lifted the body onto Tanglewhisker’s wide, graying back, Oakheart trailed to his den and disappeared inside. Shellheart ducked in beside Tanglewhisker, sharing the weight of the body.
Brambleberry slipped from her den, dipping her head as the burial party passed. She crossed the clearing and stopped in front of Crookedjaw. He got to his paws, careful not to disturb Willowbreeze, who was still dozing beside him.
“She didn’t suffer,” Brambleberry murmured. “The wound to her head would have knocked her unconscious. She wouldn’t have known what was happening.”
Crookedjaw hung his head. “You’re just trying to comfort me.”
“No!” Brambleberry stepped back. “I wouldn’t lie!”
Crookedjaw winced. Now he’d hurt her feelings. Why couldn’t he say or do anything right? “I—I’m just—”
Brambleberry stopped him. “We need to talk, Crookedjaw.”
“Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words!” Hailstar’s call interrupted her.
Willowbreeze scrabbled to her paws. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Brambleberry ducked away, leaving Crookedjaw staring after her, puzzled. What was she going to tell him?
Dens rustled and whispers murmured around the camp as the Clan collected to listen to their leader. Crookedjaw followed Willowbreeze to the back of the crowd.
Mudfur moved aside to make room for them. He dipped his head to Crookedjaw. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” Crookedjaw mumbled.
“We have been united in grief,” Hailstar began. “Now let us unite in victory. There is a piece of territory that rightfully belongs to RiverClan. It brings us warmth. It brings us shade. Now it’s time to let those mangy squirrel-eaters know it is ours!”
“Sunningrocks!” Timberfur yowled. “Yes!”
Crookedjaw scanned the clearing for Shellheart and Oakheart. Wouldn’t they want to be part of this? They were nowhere to be seen. Crookedjaw’s tail drooped. Weariness ate at his bones.
“Crookedjaw!” Hailstar called. “I’d like you to be in the patrol to re-mark Sunningrocks.” He scanned the rest of the Clan. “Voleclaw and Mudfur, I want you to come, too.”
Crookedjaw felt Mudfur stiffen beside him as the RiverClan leader called his name. Crookedjaw glanced at his Clanmate. Mudfur’s forehead was furrowed in a scowl.
Sedgepaw scrambled forward. “Aren’t any apprentices going?’ she mewed.
Hailstar shook his head. “I want my strongest, most experienced warriors. I hope we can re-mark the borders without resistance, but if we meet a ThunderClan patrol, I want them to feel the sharpness of our teeth and see the glint of our claws.”
Blackpaw whisked his tail. “I have sharp teeth!”
“We need battle practice!” Sunpaw called from beside Voleclaw. “If my mentor’s going, why can’t I?”
Hailstar dipped his head. “There will be other battles,” he meowed. “This one will be clean and quick. Not a place for training.” He turned his head. “Owlfur, Softwing, Piketooth!” he called. “You’ll form a second patrol. Mine will swim across. I want you to cross by the stepping-stones. Wait at the base of the rocks. If we meet resistance, we’ll lead ThunderClan to fight there.”
Crookedjaw’s interest pricked. If they fought the battle on the ledge below Sunningrocks, the river would give them an advantage. While ThunderClan was struggling not to fall in, RiverClan could take bigger risks and fight far more fearlessly.
Hailstar went on. “I pray there will be no bloodshed. We have already lost a brave and noble warrior in Rainflower.”
Whispers of agreement spread through the Clan. Then Mudfur stepped forward. He lifted his voice above the murmuring. “Is it worth risking our lives yet again for these rocks?”
Hailstar’s gaze snapped to the old warrior, shock clear in his eyes. “Mudfur?” He didn’t seem to understand. “Why would you object now? You’ve always been at the front of the fight.”
Crookedjaw narrowed his eyes. Mudfur was known for his strength and bravery. He could hold a warrior underwater till he surrendered. The other Clans whispered to their apprentices at Gatherings not to take him on in battle.
Mudfur dipped his head. “I don’t know if it’s worth fighting the same battle over and over again.” His voice was steady and he met the gaze of his Clanmates without flinching.
Rippleclaw hissed. “It is a matter of honor that we don’t let ThunderClan take rocks that were given to us at the dawn of the Clans.”
Hailstar tipped his head. “Does this mean you refuse to join the patrol, Mudfur?”
“I’ll join it,” Mudfur rasped. “If you give me the order, I will fight.”
Crookedjaw lifted his muzzle. “When do we leave?”
“Now.” Hailstar headed for the entrance. Voleclaw raced after him. Crookedjaw fell in beside Mudfur. He wanted to ask the old warrior why he was fighting if he thought it a waste of time.
Mudfur glanced sideways. “Don’t worry,” he growled softly. “I’ll fight as hard as anyone. I’m no minnow-heart and Hailstar is still my leader, just as he is yours.”
At the shore, Softwing, Owlfur, and Piketooth hurried away to the stepping-stones. Hailstar waded into the water and started swimming across the river. The sun was hardly over the willow trees. Sunningrocks looked rosy in the early-morning light, dew already drying fast on the top stones. Crookedjaw padded into the river, refreshed by its cool tug as he swam to the far bank. He pulled himself out and shook his pelt, then followed Hailstar, Voleclaw, and Mudfur up the rock face.
His heart quickened as he reached the summit and saw the sweep of smooth stone and the dark forest beyond. Energy pulsed beneath his pelt, pushing away his grief. He had a chance to fight for his Clan. Was Rainflower watching him from StarClan? This could be his chance to make her proud.