Crookedstar’s Promise полностью

“No wonder ThunderClan wants Sunningrocks,” Crookedpaw muttered to himself. “They must never see the sun in here.” He was relieved when they broke out of the forest and wind swept the stink of ThunderClan from his pelt.

As his Clanmates halted, Crookedpaw fluffed out his pelt. The land sloped away at his paw tips, opening into a wide valley. In the middle, four great oaks guarded a clearing. Fourtrees.

Brightsky paced the crest of the slope. “We’re the last to arrive.”

Mudfur tasted the air. “ThunderClan just got here.”

“It’s very quiet,” Petaldust whispered.

Crookedpaw narrowed his eyes. Countless pelts swarmed between the four oaks, shoaling like fish around a huge boulder. That must be the Great Rock!

A growl rumbled in Hailstar’s throat. “They’ve started without us.” The RiverClan leader plunged down the slope, snow flying in his wake. Owlfur and Shellheart followed, Beetlenose and Mudfur on their tail.

“Come on!” Oakheart bounded after them.

Crookedpaw hesitated.

Cedarpelt’s nudged him. “Are you ready?”

To be announced as a RiverClan apprentice? To meet the other Clans as an equal? Yes!

Energy fizzed beneath his pelt. “Let’s go!” Crookedpaw leaped over the edge and streamed down the slope with his Clanmates. Moonlight lit their glossy pelts as they raced for the clearing. Crookedpaw pushed harder, catching up with them as they skidded to a halt beneath a gigantic oak. He stared up through the branches, his eyes wide. It was bigger than any tree in RiverClan territory. It was even bigger than ThunderClan’s trees. He felt dizzy. Did the top branches touch the stars?

“Come on.” Hailstar flicked his tail and pushed into the crowd.

Crookedpaw scanned the sea of pelts, confused by jumbled scents. Oakheart slid among the gathered cats and disappeared as Hailstar jumped onto the Great Rock, where three other cats waited, starlight glinting in their eyes.

Crookedpaw looked at his mentor. “Which way do I go?”

“Follow me.” Cedarpelt nudged his way between two tabby toms.

The toms leaned aside to let him pass and Crookedpaw followed, keeping his nose to Cedarpelt’s tail until they stopped in the middle.

“It’s warmer here,” Cedarpelt murmured.

Crookedpaw, hot with excitement, wished it wasn’t. He turned on the spot, staring. He’d never seen so many cats. Where were his Clanmates? His heart lurched as he spotted Reedfeather. The WindClan warrior sat among his Clanmates, staring up at the Great Rock, ears flattened against the cold. Crookedpaw stretched up, balancing on his hind legs to get a better look.

“Don’t stare.” Cedarpelt nudged him and he stumbled forward.

“Watch out!” A pale gray she-cat with ThunderClan scent turned and hissed at him as he fell against her. Her long fur quivered with annoyance. “You nearly knocked me over!” She stopped and stared at him.

For the first time in moons, Crookedpaw remembered his twisted jaw. He shrank beneath his pelt. Why did she have to stare like he was a talking frog? He swallowed and steadied himself with a deep breath. “Hi,” he mewed. “I’m Crookedpaw.”

“Crookedpaw?”

Her eyes were round and blue and hid nothing. He could see her thoughts. She knows it’s not my paws that are crooked. “I’m guessing my warrior name will be Crookedjaw,” he joked half-heartedly.

She was still staring at him.

He swallowed back irritation. Were all ThunderClan cats this rude?

“Unless”—he flicked his tail under her nose—“my tail goes the same way. Then Hailstar might have to rethink.”

The gray cat shifted her paws. Crookedpaw frowned. Okay. ThunderClan cats are rude. “I should have guessed cats would stare at me.”

“I’m sorry!” Guilt sparked in her gaze. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

Crookedpaw lifted his chin. “I’d better get used to it,” he mewed. “Until everyone gets used to me.” Why bother being upset over something he couldn’t change? “At least no one forgets my name,” he pointed out. “What’s yours?”

“Bluepaw.”

Crookedpaw sat back on his haunches and looked at her. “You’re not very blue.”

Bluepaw purred. “I look more blue in daylight.”

Crookedpaw glanced around at the Clans. “Is this your first Gathering?”

Bluepaw shook her head.

“Then you know what’s going on?” he asked. “What do the leaders talk about?”

“If you listened you might find out!” Cedarpelt hissed sharply.

Crookedpaw ducked forward and whispered in Bluepaw’s ear. “Which one is Pinestar?”

Bluepaw flicked her tail toward a reddish-brown tom on the rock. Oh, yes! Crookedpaw recognized him from Sunningrocks. The ThunderClan leader’s eyes shone green in the moonlight, his powerful shoulders rippling as he moved to give Hailstar more space.

“Why haven’t you come before?” Bluepaw was looking at him curiously. “You must have been an apprentice for moons.”