Crookedstar’s Promise

“Rippleclaw!” Shellheart called the warrior back and met Pinestar’s narrowed gaze. “You can have Sunningrocks for now. Help yourself to any fresh-kill you find here. RiverClan doesn’t need mice. But we’ll take it back when we want it back.”

Stormkit could feel his brother’s heart pounding. “Mangy mouse-eaters,” he muttered. “Enjoy Sunningrocks while you can.”

Shellheart jumped down to the riverbank and waited while Rippleclaw, Ottersplash, and Brightsky dived past him into the water. He glanced back up at the rock face once more before following his Clanmates.

“Watch out!” Oakkit’s yelp made Stormkit jump. “The magpie’s coming back!”

Stormkit looked up and saw a flash of black-and-white feathers outlined against the gray sky. “Hold on to me!” he ordered.

As Oakkit sank his claws into his pelt, Stormkit reared up on his hind legs. He lashed out at the magpie with his forepaws just as it swooped level with the branch. Held firm by Oakkit, Stormkit slashed again and again until he felt his claws slice through feather and reach flesh.

Squawking, the magpie wheeled away, and Stormkit dropped to four paws.

Oakkit let go and blinked at him. “Nice move!”

“Thanks for hanging on to me.” Stormkit looked at the bloody feathers caught in his claws. “I don’t think that magpie will be back for a while.” He blinked triumphantly at his brother. “We’re going to be the best warriors RiverClan’s ever seen.”

Chapter 3

Stormkit stretched in his nest, feeling the muscles slide underneath his glossy fur. He could almost reach from one wall to the other in this corner of the nursery. Early-morning sunshine filtered through the roof, making the reed walls glow. In the three moons since ThunderClan had stolen Sunningrocks, the sun had grown hotter and higher in the sky. New growth speared up through the old reed bed and the sedge bushes smelled sweet and lush.

“Wake up!” Stormkit whispered in Oakkit’s ear.

Rainflower stirred sleepily and wrapped her tail over Stormkit’s belly. “Go back to sleep, little warrior,” she purred. “It’s still early.”

Stormkit shook off her warm, soft tail and sat up. He poked Oakkit with a paw.

“What is it?” Oakkit grumbled, his eyes tightly shut.

“Let’s go explore.”

“Remember to stay in camp,” Rainflower murmured sleepily.

“Of course,” Stormkit promised. He poked Oakkit again.

Oakkit hid his nose under a paw. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“We’ve been asleep all night. The dawn patrol left ages ago.”

In Echomist’s nest, Beetlekit struggled to his paws, his black pelt rumpled. “Is it time to eat?”

Volekit opened his eyes. “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

Petalkit was already sitting up and washing. “The hunting patrol will bring something back for us.” She leaned forward to lick Beetlekit’s head, smoothing the fur tufted between his ears. Echomist rolled over and began to snore gently.

Stormkit hopped out of his nest and stretched. “We’re going to catch our own prey.”

Oakkit sat up. “Are we?”

Rainflower lifted her head. “I hope you’re not going to get your brother in trouble again, Stormkit.”

“Why are you blaming me?” Yesterday they’d made it as far as the stepping-stones before being spotted and escorted back to camp by a very cross Mudfur. “It’s not my fault Oakkit followed the patrol.”

“He wasn’t following the patrol,” Rainflower reminded him. “He was following you.”

“He was?”

As Stormkit blinked at her innocently, she flicked his ear with her tail-tip. “I suppose I’m lucky to have such a brave, handsome kit.” She rested her chin on her paws.

“I’m brave, too.” Oakkit leaped out of the nest and headed for the entrance.

“Wait for me!” Stormkit caught up and slid past him out of the nursery.

The clearing was already warm and bright, though the sun was barely higher than the ancient willow. Hailstar and Shellheart sat beside the fallen tree, their heads dipped in quiet conversation. Troutclaw, Birdsong, and Tanglewhisker were sunning themselves on the smooth earth outside the elders’ den. Timberfur and Ottersplash were poking among the reeds at the edge of the river, their ears pricked, tails twitching, clearly hoping to find a minnow among the watery stems.

Brambleberry was laying out limp leaves in the sun, her snowy paws tinged with green sap.

“What are those for?” Stormkit crossed the clearing and sniffed the leaves. He screwed up his face. They smelled sour.

“They’re coltsfoot leaves,” Brambleberry told him. “Good for coughs.”

Stormkit nudged a leaf with his front paw. “How?”

“You have to chew them to get the juice out.” Brambleberry smoothed another leaf out on the warm earth. “Then you swallow the juice and spit out the leaf.”

Oakkit skidded to a halt beside them. “Where’d they come from?”

“I picked them beside the falls,” Brambleberry meowed.

“Can we come with you to pick more?” Stormkit asked hopefully.

Brambleberry’s whiskers twitched. “Perhaps in two moons’ time, when you’re ’paws.”

“I’m sure Hailstar will let us go now if he knows we’re with you,” Stormkit pleaded.