Crookedstar’s Promise полностью

“There’s wet and there’s drowned!” Brambleberry’s stern mew made Graykit jump. The medicine cat was padding from her den. “I don’t think Fallowtail will thank you for traipsing a puddleful of rain into the nursery.” The medicine cat halted beside Crookedpaw. “If you’ve nothing better to do,” she caught his eye, “you could fetch me some coltsfoot.”

“From the waterfall?”

“You remembered!” Brambleberry sounded pleased. “We’re going to need some fresh stock.” She glanced up into the streaming rain. “If this weather keeps up, there’ll be coughs spreading through all the dens. Do you remember what it looks like?”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Crookedpaw promised.

“Can we come, too?” Willowkit asked.

Crookedpaw shook his head sympathetically, remembering all too clearly what it felt like to be a kit trapped in camp. “Sorry,” he mewed.

“We won’t get in your way,” Graykit promised.

Brambleberry cleared her throat. “That’s because you’ll be safe and dry in your nest.” Fallowtail was at the nursery entrance, staring anxiously through the rain at her soggy kits. Brambleberry shook the rain from her whiskers. “Be careful by the falls, Crookedpaw,” she warned as she began to shoo the kits toward their mother. “The path gets slippery and the river will be raging.”

“I won’t let you down!” Crookedpaw raced for the camp entrance. Brambleberry was depending on him. His paws pricked with excitement.

There was little shelter on the riverbank now that the greenleaf bushes had died back. But the rain was easing by the time the path began to slope up to meet the head of the falls. Unsheathing his claws to get a better grip, he climbed the wet stone track, flattening his ears against the roar of the swollen waters below. Tasting the air, Crookedpaw smelled the first tang of coltsfoot. He shook out his fur, glancing up as the sky brightened. The clouds were thinning, stretching to show patches of blue. He stopped beside a fragrant green clump that clung at the edge of the path. Beyond, the cliff dropped away and Crookedpaw could just see the water swirling below.

The coltsfoot had died back, browned by frost, but a core of richly scented leaves curled at the center. Crookedpaw plunged his paws into the wet leaves. Hooking a bunch with his claws, he hauled out a pawful of sprigs and laid them on the path before turning back for more.

“Are you Brambleberry’s apprentice?”

A husky mew made Crookedpaw jump. Heart lurching, he spun around and saw three WindClan warriors standing beside the top of the falls. Crookedpaw backed away, pulling his coltsfoot stems with him. His pelt bristled, embarrassed at being caught off guard. The scent of the coltsfoot and the roar of the water had hidden the WindClan patrol’s approach.

The three warriors advanced down the path toward him. Crookedpaw arched his back. “You’re on RiverClan territory!” He tried to remember Mapleshade’s training. There was no way he was going to try tucking his tail around his hind paws here on the edge of the gorge. Perhaps he should run back to warn the Clan? He eyed the WindClan cats nervously. Their hackles were smooth. The biggest warrior, a brown tom, stared at him levelly while his Clanmates—a tabby she-cat and a small, mottled tom—stood calmly beside him.

The brown tom dipped his head. “I’m Reedfeather and I wish to speak with Hailstar.”

Crookedpaw frowned. “Why?”

Reedfeather nodded to his Clanmates. “Go back to camp,” he told them. “I’ll be okay.”

The two WindClan warriors turned and darted back along the path, disappearing over the crest of the falls.

Reedfeather dipped his head. “What’s your name?”

“Crookedpaw.”

“Brambleberry’s apprentice?”

Crookedpaw shook his head. “Cedarpelt’s.”

“A warrior apprentice?” Reedfeather narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t seen you at a Gathering yet.”

“I just got my apprentice name.” Crookedpaw shifted his paws. Was he supposed to take an enemy warrior into camp just because he’d been asked?

“You lead,” Reedfeather instructed as if he’d guessed what Crookedpaw was thinking. “I’ll follow.”

Crookedpaw stared uncertainly at the WindClan warrior.

“Don’t worry,” Reedfeather reassured him. “I only want to talk with Hailstar.” He turned his head. “As you can see, I’m alone.”

Crookedpaw glanced at the coltsfoot he’d picked.

“Take it,” Reedfeather advised. “I’m sure Brambleberry will be pleased to have it.”

Crookedpaw snatched it up in his jaws. Ears twitching, he led Reedfeather down the path. Is this a trick? The path flattened as the river settled down after its rush through the gorge and began to lap lazily at the shore. Crookedpaw glanced over his shoulder. Reedfeather’s gaze was fixed firmly on the distant reed bed where the RiverClan camp sheltered. As the river narrowed and deepened, Crookedpaw jumped down on to the shore. He began to wade into the water. The current here was gentle and it would be easy to swim across.

“Aren’t there stepping-stones?” Reedfeather called.