Crookedstar’s Promise полностью

Crookedpaw halted, water tugging his belly fur. “They’re farther downstream.” The coltsfoot muffled his mew. How does a WindClan cat know about the stepping-stones?

“Can we cross there?” Reedfeather asked. “I don’t swim.”

Crookedpaw backed awkwardly out of the river, the coltsfoot sour on his tongue. He took Reedfeather to the stepping-stones and stood back while the WindClan warrior crossed. Swollen by rain, the river ran fast around the boulders, and Reedfeather’s pelt bristled, but he was sure-pawed and didn’t hesitate. Crookedpaw bounded after him, paws slapping the wet sand as he landed on the shore. He darted past Reedfeather and led the way through the bushes on to the grassy path.

As he neared camp, his belly tightened. He was leading an enemy warrior into the heart of the Clan. What if all the warriors were out hunting or patrolling? Who would defend the elders, or Fallowtail and her kits? He stiffened. I will! Fluffing out his wet fur, he ducked through the sedge tunnel.

“Crookedpaw!” Volepaw’s call surprised him.

He dropped the coltsfoot. “I thought you were swimming.”

“Shellheart wanted to wait till after the rain.” Volepaw trotted across the clearing. “I don’t know why—it’s probably drier in the riv—” He stared past Crookedpaw, eyes widening. “You captured a WindClan warrior!”

Crookedpaw shifted his paws. “I didn’t exactly capture him,” he mumbled. “I sort of found him and he asked to see Hailstar.”

“WindClan!” Shimmerpelt charged from her den, nose twitching, fur spiked in alarm. She halted when she saw Reedfeather. “What’s he doing here?”

Reedfeather padded calmly to the center of the clearing and looked around. Troutclaw, Birdsong, and Tanglewhisker crowded out of their den and stood bristling at the top of the slope. Ottersplash and Lakeshine stopped stuffing leaves in gaps in the apprentices’ den. Piketooth and Whitefang looked up from their fresh-kill, mouths open. Oakpaw scrambled over the fallen tree, a frog dangling from his mouth. He dropped it in surprise and stared at Reedfeather. No one tried to stop the frog as it hopped over the clearing and plopped into the safety of the river.

“Reedfeather?” Shellheart had been lying in the shelter of the willow. He scrambled to his paws and padded toward the WindClan warrior. “Why in StarClan are you here?”

Reedfeather dipped his head to the RiverClan deputy. “I need to speak with Hailstar.”

“Hailstar’s patrolling,” Shellheart told him.

Reedfeather sat down. “Then I’ll wait.”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” Birdsong bustled down the slope, pelt ruffled. “You’ll go home to your own camp where you belong.” She glanced anxiously at the nursery where Fallowtail peered out, her eyes dark.

Does Reedfeather’s visit have something to do with what she was doing in WindClan? Crookedpaw suddenly wondered. He studied Reedfeather more closely. There was something familiar about the shape of his head and the tone of his voice. Had he been the cat with Fallowtail on the pile of WindClan rocks all those moons ago?

The sedge rustled and Rippleclaw raced into camp. He skidded to a halt in front of Reedfeather, hackles raised and snarling. “I knew I smelled WindClan!” he hissed as Hailstar pounded into the clearing. Cedarpelt followed, Petalpaw and Beetlepaw on his tail.

Shellheart nodded to his leader. “Crookedpaw found him at the border,” he reported. “He wants to speak with you.”

Reedfeather stood up. “I’ve come to ask for what is mine.”

Willowkit and Graykit tumbled out of the nursery. Fallowtail reached after them but they escaped her paws and bounded into the clearing.

“I’ve never seen a WindClan cat!” Willowkit gasped.

Graykit screwed up her face. “He smells weird!”

“Hush!” Birdsong wrapped her tail around them and pulled them close as Fallowtail slid from the nursery.

Cedarpelt crossed the clearing and stood beside the queen, a growl rumbling in his throat. Crookedpaw lifted his chin, proud that his mentor was so protective of his littermate and her kits.

Reedfeather dipped his head. “I’ve come to take my kits home.”

Cedarpelt stiffened. “His kits?”

Crookedpaw stared. How could a WindClan cat have kits in RiverClan?

“You can’t!” Fallowtail’s cry was desperate.

There was a gasp from the cats in the clearing. Crookedpaw looked from one face to the other. Slowly images stirred in his mind. Willowkit and Graykit had no father in RiverClan—or at least not one that Fallowtail had named. Crookedpaw had seen Fallowtail in WindClan territory with a tom two moons before the kits were born. Could Reedfeather be their father?

Rippleclaw turned his snarl from the WindClan warrior and glared at Fallowtail, who looked as if her world were ending. “You’re not even going to deny it? Have you forgotten the meaning of loyalty?”