He pushed away the thought.
“Are you okay?” Oakheart prodded him with a paw.
Crookedjaw kept his nose tucked under his paw. “Fine.”
“Stop fidgeting then,” Oakheart complained. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Slowing his thoughts, Crookedjaw felt himself drift toward sleep.
When he blinked open his eyes, sunshine was streaming through the entrance to the den. He hadn’t dreamed of Mapleshade! He sat up, a purr rising in his throat.
“What are you so cheerful about?” Oakheart was stretching in his nest. “Have you been dreaming about Willowpaw?”
Crookedjaw hopped out of his nest, flicking Oakheart’s ear with his tail as he passed. “Actually I didn’t dream at all.” Perhaps he’d scared Mapleshade by telling her off before he went to sleep. It felt good to wake up with no scratches or aching muscles. He hadn’t felt so rested in moons.
Shellheart was already organizing patrols beneath the willow when Crookedjaw padded out of the den. The RiverClan deputy beckoned him with a flick of his muzzle. Crookedjaw crossed the sunny clearing and nosed his way between Timberfur and Brightsky. Owlfur and Cedarpelt were fidgeting, eager to be out on such a fine morning. Mudfur was still yawning while Voleclaw picked mud from between his claws. Beetlenose was watching the tip of Petaldust’s tail flick back and forth, his eyes bright. Crookedjaw could tell he was fighting back the urge to pounce on it. He scanned the camp for Willowpaw, pricking his ears. Gentle snoring was coming from the apprentices’ den. Graypaw and Willowpaw were probably worn out after the Gathering and then the excitement of Shimmerpelt’s kitting.
“Ottersplash moved to the nursery this morning,” Shellheart announced. “Which means we’re another warrior down. But the river’s full of fish, and still deep enough to keep the other Clans at bay.”
“Unless they’ve learned to fly,” Voleclaw joked.
Petaldust stifled a purr. “WindClan is more likely to learn how to fly than to swim. They hate water more than ThunderClan!”
“Crookedjaw.” Shellheart nodded at his son. “Take Oakheart, Mudfur, Brightsky, and Voleclaw upstream and check the Twoleg bridge for WindClan scent. Timberfur will be leading a patrol to check the stepping-stones for any trace of ThunderClan.”
“And Crookedjaw?”
Crookedjaw snapped to attention as Shellheart went on.
“Check the Twoleg fence on your way back. See if that dog’s been straying again.”
As Crookedjaw headed away, Shellheart called after him. “Be careful. If we didn’t manage to scare him last time, the dog may be out for revenge.”
Crookedjaw poked his head into his den. Oakheart was cleaning stale moss from his nest. “Come on. We’ve got a mission.” He glanced at Whitefang. The warrior was still sound asleep in his nest; his whiskers were twitching furiously and he was chirruping like a nervous moorhen. “Should we wake him?”
“And ruin his dream?” Oakheart shook his head. “What’s the mission?” He followed Crookedjaw outside.
“We’re checking the bridge.” Mudfur, Voleclaw, and Brightsky were already waiting by the entrance. “And the Twoleg fence.” Graypaw was there, too, flicking her tail.
“Can Graypaw come with us?” Brightsky called.
“Of course.” Crookedjaw fluffed out his fur with importance. He ducked through the gap in the reeds and set a fast pace along the grass path. The sound of paws thrumming behind him filled him with joy. The sun was shining and a warm breeze wafted across the sparkling river. Crookedjaw had to fight to keep himself from purring out loud. He veered off the path, following the trail up through the alders and doubling back around the camp, keeping up the pace until the patrol swerved back down to meet the river again. The shore was sandy on the edge of the marsh and soft on his paws. His pads sprayed dirt behind him as he slowed and the patrol fanned out around him. Walking now, Crookedjaw led the way upstream.
Graypaw scampered through the shallows. “Can we fish?”
Oakheart shrugged. “If you want to carry what you catch for the rest of the morning.”
Graypaw sighed. “We could eat it now,” she mewed hopefully. “Just a little minnow wouldn’t be breaking the warrior code, would it?”
“Yes, it would,” Mudfur answered sternly. “Besides, we should check the bridge. Then look for the dog.”
