Crookedstar’s Promise полностью

“You could teach me how to swim, then I could help better,” Crookedkit pointed out.

Piketooth shook his head. “You’re a bit small for that.”

“So are minnows!” Crookedkit felt like jumping into the clear patch of water and teaching himself how to swim.

Shimmerpelt waded out of the river and dropped a mouthful of reeds on the shore. “I know you’re bored,” she meowed sympathetically. “There aren’t any more kits to play with.” She glanced around the camp. “Maybe you could practice stalking by yourself?”

Crookedkit felt his tail droop. Didn’t anyone want him around?

Brambleberry was watching him from outside the medicine den. “Do you want to help me sort herbs?” she called.

“I’m going to be a warrior, not a medicine cat!” Crookedkit snapped. He turned and padded across the clearing. Oakpaw was trotting into camp, a wad of moss between his jaws.

Shellheart hailed him. “Oakpaw, when you’ve delivered that, I’ll take you on a tour of the territory.”

Crookedkit pricked his ears. “Can I come?” he called hopefully.

Shellheart sighed. “One day.” He watched as Oakpaw raced up the slope, dropped the moss, and dashed back down. “Ready?”

Oakpaw nodded. Crookedkit sat down and watched them disappear through the entrance tunnel.

Rainflower was lying in the shade of the sedge wall, sharing fresh-kill with Lakeshine. She lifted her head and stared at Crookedkit. “I’m moving back to the warriors’ dens tonight.” She turned her fresh-kill with her paw. “Lakeshine’s letting me share her nest until I build my own.”

You can’t! Crookedkit’s heart began to race. That meant he’d be alone in the nursery. His Clanmates would all be sharing tongues and snoring together while he lay on his own, like an outcast. Maybe Rainflower would stay if he did something to impress her. Maybe he could get her to love him again. He raced for the fallen tree and scrambled up the trunk. Claws stretched, he skittered along the jutting branch he’d climbed moons ago.

“Look, Rainflower!” He reached the end and stretched up, legs trembling, heart pounding, tall enough that the whole Clan could see him—the bravest kit in the Clan. “Look at me!”

Rainflower twitched her tail. “Get down before you fall!” she called wearily, and turned back to her meal. “And stop showing off. You’ll be an apprentice when you’re ready, not before.”

Somewhere in the woods, a warbler shrieked. Crookedkit sat up in his nest. The Clan was asleep. Even through the walls of the nursery, he could hear snores and snuffles and the rustling of nests as his Clanmates stretched and rolled over. Crookedkit felt wide awake. His heart ached in his chest too fiercely to sleep. He trailed around the empty den, breathing in the scents of Rainflower and Echomist.

Perhaps the orange-and-white StarClan warrior would come now. He scanned the shadowy edges of the nursery, straining to see through the half-light. Was this loneliness part of the destiny she’d promised? StarClan is watching over you. He remembered Brambleberry’s words. This is part of a destiny only they understand, but you must believe that they are guiding all of us, and that they care about you just as much as any cat in RiverClan.

If StarClan wouldn’t come to him, then he’d go to them. He’d visit the Moonstone where Brambleberry shared tongues with their ancestors. When he was in the medicine den, she’d described her journeys there. He just had to head upstream and get through WindClan territory without being spotted. After that Highstones would be easy to find. It was bigger than Sunningrocks. It makes Sunningrocks look like a pebble. That’s what Brambleberry had told him. Butterflies fluttered in his belly but he ignored them. He had to know whether this was part of his destiny. Padding to the nursery entrance, he peered out. The clearing was deserted, silvered by moonlight. Crookedkit slid out of the reed den and padded quietly across the clearing to the entrance tunnel.

The sedge whispered around him as he headed out of camp.

Gentle rain began to fall as Crookedkit followed the grassy path away from the camp. The river glittered beside him. I cross the river and head upstream to the moors. Then I—He frowned, trying to remember the rest of Brambleberry’s words. His paws pricked nervously. First, cross the river. He couldn’t swim yet, which left him just one option.

The stepping-stones.