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It had been many seasons since Crookedstar had last spoken with Mapleshade, but he always knew what she'd say if she were still around.
Did you really let those trespassers go without so much as a scratch? RiverClan would be better off with a mouse as its leader! All the training I gave you has gone to waste. You could have had everything, Crookedjaw, but you gave it up, and for what? A bunch of pathetic fish-faces that won't even remember you when you're gone!
Sometimes he swore he could see her pelt in the shadows, black and orange blending together, with only the sickly glow of her off-white patches indicating that she was still around. No, Crookedstar was not so naive as to think Mapleshade was done with him yet. In fact, he knew she'd never let him go: her curse was cast over generations, kin unto kin, but he had been the only one she'd trained.
Mapleshade had been many things to him in the time that he'd been blind to her fury: an ancestor, a mentor, a friend. After his accident, especially--after Rainflower rejected him as her son--Crookedstar had almost seen Mapleshade as a mother.
But, just like Rainflower, no cat with such bitterness in her heart should bear kits, lest she turn that bitterness towards them. As such, Crookedstar had turned his back on them both, looking to his true family and friends for support, which they had given to him unconditionally.
Mapleshade didn't talk to him anymore, or even appear in his dreams. But he knew she was always watching. She would watch him until he lost every single one of his nine lives.
Crookedstar hoped that, once that time came, he might find peace from her.
Her voice was not audible as Crookedstar stalked along the river's edge, but he could easily imagine what she'd say. She'd said similar things when he first started talking with Bluestar, back when they were both apprentices--and her hatred had only gotten worse as they'd began meeting at Sunning-Rocks.
A ThunderClan cat! Crookedjaw, what are you thinking? No, my mistake: you can't be thinking. No rational, honorable, true RiverClan warrior would sneak off to meet up with an enemy warrior. Sunning-Rocks belongs to RiverClan, doesn't it? You should tear the fur off her pelt just for being here!
The river was smooth and clear as the sky that night, reflecting the stars above. Taking Bluestar as a mate had been the last straw for Mapleshade, and he knew she'd never forgive him for it. Crookedstar hoped StarClan would be a bit more merciful.
He didn't look down at the water as he stepped in. Instead, he lifted his head up, keeping his gaze on the shore of Sunning-Rocks as he began to swim with strong, steady strokes. He'd long since grown used to his twisted reflection; rather, it was guilt that made him turn his head away from the mirror image of his own face.
Water dripped from his pelt as he stepped onto the shore, and he shook to rid himself of what remained. It was Claw-Moon, tonight; he would only come here when the moon was barely a silver. It wasn't the cruel darkness of No-Moon, but it was still just light enough that he could see the sleekness of Bluestar's fur as he stood at the base of Sunning-Rocks.
If she were very still, and if she shut her eyes, it would be easy to mistake her as a stone herself. Her pelt wasn't quite as glossy as a RiverClan cat's, but Crookedstar had never cared about that. He loved her rounded ears, her short fur, and the scar across her shoulder. More so, he loved the cat at the very heart of those things.
They should have called you Blueheart, he remembered telling her, not long after they became mates. When she'd asked him why, he said, Because that's how I feel when you're not around.
They'd been younger, then, just warriors. Now, he was Crookedstar, and she, Bluestar. Leaders of their respective clans, two of the most powerful cats in the forest, each with a legion of warriors willing to fling themselves into battle with a mere flick of their tails.
But, all in all, the time they spent as leaders together was uncharacteristically peaceful. Of course, RiverClan would fight for Sunning-Rocks, and ThunderClan, the same, but it was mostly skirmishes between small patrols or even individual cats. Crookedstar considered himself fortunate that he hadn't had to meet Bluestar in battle since they both rose to leadership. It had been hard enough when they were warriors.
They were older, now; too old to be out so late, missing a night of much needed rest. Crookedstar didn't care.
"Are you going to join me," Bluestar called, her voice soft as snow, "or are you going to stand there all night?"
He realized after she'd spoken that he'd been staring at her for some time. Shaking out his fur again, Crookedstar began to climb up the slanted stone of Sunning-Rocks. It was harder than it used to be.
He managed to make it to Bluestar without making a complete fool of himself; though honestly, he wouldn't mind if he'd tripped if it made her laugh. Crookedstar loved her laugh. "Forgive me," he rumbled, touching his nose to hers in greeting, "for being star-struck."
Bluestar's beautiful eyes glinted. No matter how their minds and bodies aged, that glint was always there, and it told him she loved him. "You're forgiven."
They sat together for a moment, each watching the smooth surface of the river glide by. The surface was disturbed only by two things: firstly, the occasional touch of a bug landing on the water, and secondly, the speckled stars reflected there from Silver-Pelt.
"So," Crookedstar said, leaning into Bluestar's side. "What brings a ThunderClan warrior out here in the middle of the night?"
He was graced with Bluestar's laugh. "Not that it's any of your business, fish-eater, but I've come to meet someone."
"Is that so?" Crookedstar feigned innocence. "Tell me all about him."
"He's kind. Handsome. Brave, if a bit mouse-brained. One of the greatest warriors the forest has ever known," Bluestar answered, playing along. "Oh, and one other thing."
"What's that?"
"He's awfully humble."
This time Crookedstar was the one who laughed, twining his tail with hers. "You don't say?"
Bluestar just purred, leaning into him, and they both went quiet for a moment, just enjoying one another's company.
It was times like these that gave Crookedstar hope. For much of his life, he'd been afraid to love anyone; even before Mapleshade revealed all the trouble she'd caused, he knew he'd lost more cats close to him than other warriors. And though he had been through all the torment the dark warrior had to offer, he was still here. Bluestar was still here.
She'd seen her own world fall apart before they'd even properly became mates. Bluestar's mother, Moonflower, had been killed by WindClan while she was still an apprentice, and later she lost her only sister, Snowfur, to a terrible accident. When they were both warriors, it seemed like Bluefur was the only cat who could understand him.
Though he now knew he had his clan and his ancestors supporting him, Crookedstar still felt that way, sometimes.
A slight sigh drifted from Bluestar, as if she could read his thoughts. She tucked her head under his chin; he was grateful for his bulk, unusual as it was in RiverClan, seeing as it meant he could shelter her when she wished it. "How are they?"
Crookedstar watched the river. "Well. Stonefur is a brilliant fighter, like his mother. Mistyfoot is a politician, herself; I think she has half a mind to lead RiverClan someday."
"And Silverstream?"
He hesitated. "She's been distracted, lately. I'm not sure what it is that's caught her eye, but she's well, too."
"Maybe it's not what so much as who," Bluestar suggested. "Has she had her eye on anyone in the clan?"
He hadn't thought of it that way. "Not to my knowledge, but I don't watch her all of the time. Being one of the greatest warriors the forest has ever known keeps a cat busy," he added, teasing.
Bluestar purred, a familiar rumbling that sent warmth directly to Crookedstar's heart. "Don't forget the most humble."
"Awfully humble, yes."
Bluestar had given birth to their litter several seasons ago, and had given them up to Crookedstar to raise in RiverClan. Something about ambition and a prophecy and a bloodthirsty warrior named Thistleclaw. Crookedstar had been so caught up in the beauty of their kits that his mate's words had barely sunk in.
Stonekit, Mistykit, and Silverkit looked much like Bluestar, which had kept them safe from suspicion in ThunderClan. In RiverClan, though, he knew he wouldn't be able to claim them as his own without a mate the clan could accept.
Graypool's kittens had died soon after birth. It was a terrible loss, but when Crookedstar brought his kits to her, she'd gradually recovered. The hollow look left her eyes, and she started eating and washing herself again. She had another family to care for, after all.
The kits were warriors, now, and thrived in RiverClan. They knew Crookedstar was their father, but believed Graypool to be their mother; most of the clan knew they were born outside of their borders, but no one would have dared say it aloud. Their father was the clan leader, after all, and Graypool defended them as fiercely as if she had carried them herself.
Crookedstar knew Bluestar missed their children, and wished she could have been there to raise them properly. But she insisted he never tell them of their true heritage while she was still alive--she wanted them to grow up without the influence of a leader from another clan as their mother.
She still loved their family fiercely, and Crookedstar did, too. No matter what Mapleshade might say.
Half-Clan kits? You've lost your mind! They're no better than scum, than rats! You should have thrown them into the river the moment Bluefur gave them to you. And you, Crookedjaw, as their sire, are no better than they are.
Crookedstar had been terrified that her curse would extend to them. For most of their kithood, he'd been very active in their lives, thinking that if he were there all the time, he'd be able to protect them from whatever evil Mapleshade might send their way. Of course, they weren't invincible, and they did meet harm--especially as warriors--but they were safe. They were alive.
He let out a huff of breath, pushing thoughts of Mapleshade out of his mind for the time being. He was here, with Bluestar, his mate, the love of his life and mother of his kits. They were both growing old, and someday, they wouldn't be able to meet anymore--whether due to old age or death, he didn't yet know.
But tonight, they were here. Tonight, they were alive, together, in the same space, and their secret was safe.
Not even Mapleshade could kill the love that lay in Crookedstar's heart.