Crookedstar was aware of the river sliding past and the birds chattering in the trees behind them. A kingfisher was sitting in the branch of an overhanging willow, studying the water for the tiniest flicker of a fish tail. Crookedstar took a deep breath. “Are they your kits?”
Oakheart stared at him. There was no twitch of his whiskers. No flick of his ear. His pelt was as smooth as fish scales. “Yes.”
“And Bluefur’s?” Who else can it be?
“Yes.” Pain flashed in Oakheart’s eyes. “She gave them up to become ThunderClan’s deputy.” His voice dropped to a pained whisper. “She couldn’t let Thistleclaw take over.” He shrugged. “She didn’t say why, just that her Clan needed her. She was so certain that she was doing the right thing, Crookedstar! What else could I do?”
Should I have told Sunstar what I knew about Thistleclaw? Crookedstar scraped his claws through the pebbles. It would have helped Bluefur. She might have kept her kits. Instead I left her to stop Thistleclaw by herself.
The secrets he’d been carrying suddenly felt like stones in his belly. If he dived in the river now, they’d drag him to the bottom.
Oakheart leaned forward. “What are you going to do?” A challenge edged his mew, the challenge of a father willing to do anything to protect his kits.
“Nothing.”
Oakheart blinked.
“We’re going to raise them as RiverClan,” Crookedstar went on. “They are our kin, after all.” He looked down at his paws. “But I wish you had confided in me. You know you can trust me with anything.”
Oakheart sighed. “I guess we all have our secrets.”
Crookedstar lifted his gaze and stared into his brother’s clear amber eyes. If only you knew.
Chapter 38
Crookedstar tossed another trout to Timberfur lying by the reed bed. A good day’s hunting had given the Clan all it needed for the feast. The past four seasons had treated them kindly and they were well fed and sleek. The sun was finally slipping toward the river and a cool greenleaf breeze wafted over the camp.
Stonefur rolled on to his back. “I’m stuffed.” He lapped awkwardly at his bloated belly. For a young warrior, he was as solid as his senior Clanmates and longer-legged.
Mallowtail poked him with a paw. “You deserve it,” she purred. “I’ve never seen anyone chase off a Twoleg before.”
Graypool’s ears twitched. “I wish you wouldn’t take so many chances, Stonefur,” she chided. “It wasn’t long ago you were an apprentice.”
“It wasn’t just me,” Stonefur reminded her. “It was the whole patrol.”
Mistyfoot gently nudged Graypool. “You worry about us too much.”
Graypool snorted. “Well, someone has to.”
Timberfur swished his tail. “You did get a bit close, Stonefur.”
“It shouldn’t have come so near the camp,” Stonefur argued.
“Attacking Twolegs can only lead to trouble,” Echomist fretted.
“He didn’t attack it,” Mistyfoot defended her brother. “He just hissed at it.”
“And now it’s gone off yowling to its Clanmates about you.” Echomist shook her head. “They’ll be invading the camp, just you wait and see.”
Rippleclaw yawned. “Twolegs are too dumb to organize an attack.”
Crookedstar sat up and stretched. “We’ll send out extra patrols just in case.” He glanced at the fresh-kill pile, wondering whether to offer another carp to Willowbreeze. She was always hungry these days.
Fallowtail got to her paws and stretched. “I’m sleepy.” She nodded to Birdsong. “Are you ready for your nest?” Fallowtail had moved to the elders’ den last leaf-bare, after Tanglewhisker had died. She’d been feeling her age for moons, and keeping Birdsong company had been a good reason to give up her den to Mallowtail and Dawnbright.
Birdsong shook her head. “I had a long sleep this afternoon,” she rasped. “I’ll just lie here a little longer and listen to the warriors boast.”
“We don’t boast!” Dawnbright puffed as Fallowtail headed up the slope.
Loudbelly purred. “Doesn’t telling us you caught three fish in three dives count as boasting?”
“It was true!” Dawnbright sniffed.
Crookedstar licked a paw. “I suppose you never boast, Loudbelly.” He wiped his muzzle clean.
Frogleap’s whiskers twitched. “He collects a reed for every warrior he’s fought and weaves it into his nest!”
“I have to keep count,” Loudbelly meowed. “We’ve won so many battles these past moons, it’s hard to remember them all.”
Crookedstar began to wash his ears. He loved to listen as his Clan shared tongues, proud of his strong, loyal warriors. No other Clan had dared threaten their borders since newleaf. And they’d taken back Sunningrocks. Sunstar’s mission to the RiverClan camp had only given ThunderClan the rocks for a few moons.
“Crookedstar?” Willowbreeze called softly to him. She was on her paws, beckoning him away from the clearing.
“What is it?” He followed her toward the entrance.
“I thought you might want to go for a walk.” Her amber eyes glowed in the fading light. “There’s something I need to tell you, away from prying ears.”
Crookedstar tipped his head on one side. His mate was definitely acting a little strange. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.” She flicked his ear with the tip of her tail as she ducked out of camp. The stones on the shore were still warm from the sun as they wandered downriver.
“So?” Crookedstar glanced at her expectantly. “What is it that can’t be said in camp?”
“I’m going to have kits.”
Crookedstar halted, his heart pounding with delight. “Really?”
Willowbreeze purred. “Really.”
“When?”
“About three moons.”
“How many?”
She snorted with amusement. “I don’t know!”
“You should move to the nursery at once.” Crookedstar wasn’t taking any chances. Too many RiverClan queens had lost their kits.
“Don’t be silly,” Willowbreeze argued. “I can carry on with patrols for ages yet.”
“Then don’t catch anything heavier than a minnow.”
She looked at him, the tip of her tail twitching impatiently.
“Okay!” Crookedstar realized he was fussing over fish-brained details. Willowbreeze was having his kits! He pressed his muzzle against hers. Happiness sparkled beneath his pelt. “I have to tell Oakheart!” he meowed. “I have to tell everyone.” He charged away, skidding to a stop as he hit the grassy path. “It’s okay, isn’t it?” he asked, looking back. “If I tell everyone?”
Willowbreeze nodded.
Crookedstar raced into camp. “Willowbreeze is expecting kits!”
“Congratulations!” Owlfur was on his paws at once.
Oakheart stopped washing. “At last!” He trotted across the clearing and weaved around Crookedstar.
Softwing nodded. “It’s about time.”
“Did someone say kits?” Fallowtail ducked out of the elders’ den, ear pricked.
Birdsong’s whiskers twitched. “Willowbreeze is expecting.”
Fallowtail hurried stiffly down the slope. “I hope she’ll be moving to the nursery,” she mewed, sounding fretful. “Where is she?” She scanned the camp as Willowbreeze padded through the entrance. “Come and rest, dear.” Fallowtail hurried over to her and guided her beneath the willow.
Shimmerpelt sniffed. “Stop fussing. She’ll be fine.”
Crookedstar nodded to Timberfur. “I want her taken off border patrols.”