Brambleberry darted to the nest and pressed her ear to Hailstar’s flank. She sat up slowly. Crookedpaw shivered as silence gripped the den. Brambleberry broke it with a sigh as Hailstar took a sudden shuddering gasp. “He lost a life,” she mewed softly.
Echomist’s eyes glistened. “Then he’s on his ninth,” she breathed.
Brambleberry touched the she-cat’s cheek with her muzzle. “I’m afraid so.” She glanced at Crookedpaw. “You’d better go.”
Crookedpaw nodded and headed for the entrance.
“Thanks for the fish,” Brambleberry called after him.
Crookedpaw squeezed into the clearing. Rainflower was padding stiffly to her den. Oakheart rested his nose on his paws, his eyes closed. Tanglewhisker was carrying a lump of snow in his jaws. He dropped it beside Shimmerpelt, who began lapping at it thirstily. None of them knew that their leader had lost a life in the failed battle for Sunningrocks, just as Petaldust feared. It wasn’t Crookedpaw’s place to tell them; Brambleberry would do that, or Hailstar himself, once he had recovered.
“But I haven’t done it perfectly yet!” Crookedpaw lunged forward again, his belly brushing the ground. He twisted, thrusting out his hind paws with a grunt of effort. In the days since the battle he’d practiced harder than ever.
Mapleshade ignored him.
“I have to get this right.” Crookedpaw scrambled to his paws. “I’m never going to be beaten again!”
“You must wake up, Crookedpaw!” Mapleshade hissed. “Something’s happening.”
Crookedpaw stared at her in alarm. “Is the Clan in trouble?”
“Wake
Crookedpaw blinked open his eyes. He scrambled to his paws, heart racing. The apprentices’ den was dark. He could hardly see the walls. Paws pricking, he slipped into the clearing and looked up at the sky. The moon was no more than a claw scratch. Dawn was lighting the distant moorland. The thaw, which had followed the defeat at Sunningrocks, had left the camp muddy. The reeds drooped, feigning death. The snow had melted, revealing moss once more. It squelched underpaw as Crookedpaw padded toward the reed bed. He peered through the stiff stems, tasting the air. Hailstar’s scent hung there, Timberfur’s, too. Crookedpaw followed their trail, picking out the fresh scent of Ottersplash, Owlfur, and Rippleclaw as he neared a gap in the sedge. They’d left camp recently.
Crookedpaw ducked, ready to follow. Just then, a screech tore the air. Bristling, Crookedpaw spun around. It had come from the other side of the river. A yowl followed it.
Crookedpaw darted across the clearing and leaped onto the fallen tree. Weaving past the dens, he headed along the jutting branch until he was above the reeds. His gaze followed the sliding river far upstream to the distant bank. Ottersplash and Owlfur were pelting down the slope from WindClan territory. They skimmed the low bushes with long strides. Rippleclaw and Timberfur followed. Dark bundles swung from their jaws. Crookedpaw’s heart skipped a beat as he heard mewling.
The kits! They had the kits!
Hailstar pounded after them, a WindClan warrior spitting at his heels.
“What’s happening?”
“Who’s yowling?”
Dens rustled and paws hurried over wet moss. Oakheart scuttled along the branch and crouched behind him. “What is it?”
“Just watch!” Crookedpaw kept his gaze fixed on the fleeing patrol.
“Get into the river!” Hailstar’s yowl rang loud in the dawn air. Timberfur and Rippleclaw sprang off the shore and plunged into the shallows.
Willowkit squealed. “It’s cold!”
“Help!” Graykit was shrieking.
Hailstar slowed and turned to face Reedfeather. The WindClan warrior stopped a whisker from Hailstar’s nose. His Clanmates charged past him to the river’s edge. “You can’t steal my kits!”
Hailstar glanced over his shoulder, toward Rippleclaw and Timberfur who stood belly deep in the water. His eyes lit with triumph. “We already have!”
Spitting, Reedfeather struck the RiverClan leader with a blow so fierce it sent him crashing against a rock. Crookedpaw’s breath stopped. Hailstar lay still.
