Crowfeather's Trial

Chapter 18

The sun was rising, shining palely through a thin covering of cloud, when Crowfeather staggered back into camp, exhausted after his trek across the moor and the excitement of discovering that Nightcloud might be alive.

Yawning and foggy from lack of sleep, Crowfeather’s first instinct was to look for Breezepelt. At last I have some good news to tell him! And if Nightcloud’s alive, we have to figure out why she hasn’t come back.

But as he headed for the warriors’ den, Crowfeather spotted a group of cats clustered around the medicine-cat den, and his ears pricked at the sound of their excited chatter. He exchanged a puzzled glance with Kestrelflight.

“That’s odd…,” the medicine cat murmured. He bounded over to join their Clanmates, and Crowfeather followed.

“What’s going on?” he asked Whitetail.

The small white elder turned to him with gleaming eyes. “Featherpaw is awake!” she purred.

A huge wave of relief surged through Crowfeather. “That’s great news!” he exclaimed.

Kestrelflight had already vanished into his den. Crowfeather thrust his way through the crowd of cats until he came to the entrance. As he reached it, the medicine cat reappeared in the cleft, looking pleased and harassed at the same time.

“No, you can’t come in,” he meowed, speaking in general to all his Clanmates. “Featherpaw is going to be fine, but she needs rest and quiet. Go hunt, or kill a few stoats or something, but don’t hang around here.”

Crowfeather was about to withdraw again, then halted as Kestrelflight spotted him and beckoned him with a wave of his tail. “You can come in, Crowfeather,” he mewed. “She wants to see you.”

Crowfeather was aware of one or two disapproving hisses as he slipped into the den behind Kestrelflight, but he ignored them. He felt too happy to start a quarrel with any Clanmate. I got Featherpaw into this mess, and she still wants to see me!

Sedgewhisker and Emberfoot were crouching beside the apprentice’s nest, relief and excitement in their eyes. They rose to their paws as Kestrelflight entered, leading Crowfeather. Sedgewhisker bent her head over her daughter and murmured, “We’ll fetch you some fresh-kill and a nice clump of wet moss.” She and Emberfoot slipped past Crowfeather; to his relief, they didn’t notice him as he drew back into the shadows beside the den wall.

When they had left, Crowfeather padded forward to see Featherpaw lying in her nest of moss and bracken; she raised her head and blinked sleepily at Crowfeather as he approached.

“Featherpaw, I’m so sorry I put you in danger,” Crowfeather mewed, crouching down beside her.

His apprentice’s eyes stretched wider at his words. “But you didn’t!” she protested. “I don’t remember much of what happened, but I know it wasn’t your fault. Hootpaw and I and the others decided we wanted to be in the battle. You didn’t force us to do anything.”

“But I’m your mentor. I shouldn’t have told you to be so aggressive. I put you in danger, and—”

“No,” Featherpaw interrupted. “That was just advice, and it was good advice. The other apprentices and I made the choice to join in the battle. We were angry at being left out, and when we got there, we thought the stoats didn’t look so threatening — but we were wrong. You’re the best mentor in all the Clans!”

I wish that were true, Crowfeather thought. “I’m just glad you’re going to be okay,” he mewed huskily, touching his nose to hers.

Featherpaw closed her eyes and let out a drowsy sigh. “I’ll be fine.”

Crowfeather crept quietly away; as he left the den, he came face to face with Sedgewhisker and Emberfoot returning. Sedgewhisker was carrying a plump mouse, while Emberfoot had a bundle of dripping moss.

Feeling awkward, Crowfeather stepped back, but this time there was no avoiding them in the narrow opening. He braced himself for Featherpaw’s parents to blame him again for her injuries. Then he realized that they looked just as uncomfortable, clearly finding it hard to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Crowfeather,” Sedgewhisker mewed, setting down her prey. “We were too hard on you before.”

“I deserved it,” Crowfeather responded with a dip of his head. “Part of it, at least.”

“No cat could have deserved what we said to you,” Sedgewhisker insisted. “It’s just that she’s our kit, and we were so worried…”

“I understand,” Crowfeather reassured her. “I care about her, and I’m just her mentor. I can only imagine how you felt.” As he spoke, he saw the deep concern and caring in the eyes of Featherpaw’s parents, and realized again how long he had withheld that from his own son.

A bright image flashed into his mind, of Breezepelt bumbling around the camp as a kit, falling over his own paws and chasing his tail. He had been so lovable, so vulnerable, and Crowfeather remembered how intensely he had wanted to protect him. But he had held back from loving him as a father should. I was afraid to love any cat.

Emberfoot’s voice drew him out of the memory. “I know you do your best to train Featherpaw,” the gray tom was meowing, speaking with difficulty around his mouthful of wet moss. “If you could just… in the future… be a bit more careful?”

Crowfeather felt a twinge of annoyance. I tried to be careful! And apprentices have to learn. But he remembered in time that Emberfoot was a father who had just nearly lost his kit. He could understand that, after his fear for Lionblaze in the Great Battle, or for Breezepelt wounded by the stoats. He responded in a heartfelt tone, “I would never want any more harm to come to Featherpaw. From now on, I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

Emberfoot gave him an approving nod, and the two cats headed into the den to see their daughter.

Turning away, Crowfeather spotted Breezepelt with Weaselfur and Larkwing, padding over to the fresh-kill pile, their jaws loaded with prey. At last! Crowfeather thought. I can’t wait to see Breezepelt’s face when I tell him about Nightcloud!

He waited until the other two warriors had moved away before joining Breezepelt and beckoning him over to a quiet corner behind the nursery.

“What now?” Breezepelt asked, sounding surprised.

Crowfeather took a deep breath, remembering what Kestrelflight had told him the night before. He hoped Breezepelt wouldn’t get his hopes up too much, imagining that they would discover where Nightcloud went and bring her home: It would crush him so badly if his mother turned out to be dead after all.

“You know I went with Kestrelflight to the Moonpool last night?” he meowed. Breezepelt nodded. “Kestrelflight said that he would look for Nightcloud in StarClan, and… she isn’t there. That could mean she’s alive!”

Breezepelt took in a sharp, gasping breath, but for a moment he didn’t say anything. Crowfeather couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I truly thought she was gone,” he explained, assuming his son would be angry that he hadn’t searched harder. “I’m sorry… I’m still not entirely sure what it means, but I didn’t mean to make you grieve unnecessarily.”

Breezepelt shook his head, and Crowfeather realized that he was more confused than angry. “No… that’s okay.” He met his father’s gaze, and Crowfeather saw hope begin to creep into his eyes. “I’m just glad we might still find her. This isn’t about us, Crowfeather. It’s about saving Nightcloud.”

Crowfeather nodded, impressed by his son’s mature reaction. “I’ve been thinking about it, and if she’s alive,” he began, “there has to be some reason she isn’t coming back to us. She’s the most loyal WindClan cat there ever was. Suppose she’s trapped, or in danger? We need to start searching for her again, together.”

Breezepelt licked one forepaw thoughtfully and drew it over his ear. “We had a hard enough time looking for her before. Where do you suggest we start?”

“We’ll have to go back to the spot on ThunderClan territory where I found her blood,” Crowfeather replied.

Breezepelt let out a snort. “That should please Bramblestar!”

“Well, I don’t intend to ask for Bramblestar’s permission,” Crowfeather mewed dryly. “Anyway, if she made it out of the tunnels and we haven’t found her — it must have been over there.”

“But it’s been a half-moon since then. Won’t her scent have faded by now?”

“Maybe not.” Crowfeather hadn’t thought about that before. Afraid that his son was right, he struggled with disappointment, then braced himself, trying hard to sound optimistic. “It hasn’t rained since then. Anyway, it’s the best chance we have. Let’s go talk to Onestar.”

Crowfeather led the way across the camp toward Onestar’s den and spotted the Clan leader just outside, in conversation with Harespring. As Crowfeather and Breezepelt approached, Harespring gave a brisk nod and bounded away toward the warriors’ den.

“Well?” Onestar asked, turning toward Crowfeather. “What mouse-brained idea have you gotten into your head this time?”

Crowfeather was aware that his leader still hadn’t forgiven him for going to ask ThunderClan to help. His tone was icy and his eyes narrowed, irritable. This is the worst possible time to ask him for a favor, Crowfeather thought worriedly.

The Clan leader listened without comment as Crowfeather repeated his story of what Kestrelflight had discovered at the Moonpool, and his intention to go with Breezepelt to search for Nightcloud.

“Do you have bees in your brain, Crowfeather?” Onestar asked when he had finished. “You really think this is the right time to go trespassing on ThunderClan territory?”

“Yes — if it’s the only way to find Nightcloud—” Breezepelt began desperately, before Crowfeather could respond.

Onestar lashed his tail dismissively. “I care about Nightcloud too,” he meowed. “But she’s been missing for a long time, and you don’t really know where to look.”

“We’ll start with the last place I found her scent,” Crowfeather mewed, his expression grim. Breezepelt stood beside him, eyeing Onestar expectantly. For that moment, at least, they were a united front. Onestar looked back and forth between the two of them and finally sighed in surrender.

“Okay, I won’t stop you trying, but it will have to wait. Today we have more urgent matters to deal with.” He glared at Crowfeather. “As usual, you have to be reminded to put your Clan’s needs above your own.”

“What urgent matters?” Crowfeather asked, ignoring Onestar’s jibe. He had accepted that Onestar would be angry with him for a long time to come, but that didn’t mean that Clan business would come to a halt.

“Have you forgotten the stoats?” Onestar asked, a sarcastic edge to his voice. “Or the conversation with Bramblestar yesterday?”

No, how could I? Crowfeather reflected bitterly. I thought I was the only one who worried about them. That’s why I went to ThunderClan in the first place.

“We have to get rid of the stoats before they cause ThunderClan to meddle even more,” his Clan leader went on. “That might be what Kestrelflight’s vision meant. After all, the dark water emerged from our end of the tunnels, which meant it could have come from ThunderClan, right? What if the vision was warning us to be suspicious of our closest neighbors? Maybe their new leader, Bramblestar, is the biggest threat to us. Maybe the engulfing water means that ThunderClan will take over our territory and drive us out.”

And maybe our Clan leader can’t see beyond the end of his own whiskers, Crowfeather thought sourly. I know ThunderClan is annoying, but would they really attack us now, so soon after the Great Battle? Sure, they might — and hedgehogs might fly!

Once again, Crowfeather felt himself being tugged apart. As a loyal warrior, should he follow his leader unquestioningly, or speak his mind if he thought the leader was wrong? Mindful that he wasn’t Onestar’s favorite cat right now, he struggled to listen in silence as Onestar continued.

“This is our plan: We’re going to block up the tunnel entrances with twigs, rocks, and brush — anything we can find.”

Crowfeather cringed. That wouldn’t even make sense if the stoats were our only problem.

“It’ll be a tough project, and we’ll need every warrior to help,” Onestar added with a hard glare at Crowfeather and Breezepelt, “but it’s the best way to deal with the stoats—and it will stop ThunderClan using the tunnels to spy on us.”

“That’s the most mouse-brained plan I’ve ever heard!” some cat exclaimed, and Crowfeather realized with horror that it had been him. His disgust at what he had just heard must have driven out all thoughts of being tactful, or of not getting deeper into trouble with Onestar. Well, it’s too late to take it back now. He took in a breath and went on, “Haven’t you thought it through at all?”

“Thought it through?” Onestar repeated, his voice dangerously quiet. “Maybe I haven’t. Give us the benefit of your wisdom, Crowfeather.”

Crowfeather flicked his ear, uncomfortable. It seemed clear that calling Onestar’s plan mouse-brained hadn’t been exactly… sensible. Breezepelt was staring at him, wide-eyed with shock, and one or two other cats were drifting toward them, drawn by the sudden tension and the way Onestar’s fur was lifting all along his spine.

But I can’t stop now. I have to tell him what I think!

“Blocking the entrances probably won’t stop the stoats,” Crowfeather continued. “They’ll just push the blockages away from the inside. Or, if they don’t, they’ll be driven out to hunt on ThunderClan’s side — and how do you think Bramblestar will react to that?”

Onestar swiped his tongue over his jaws as if he had just swallowed a succulent bit of prey. “That’s the best part of the plan,” he purred. “I’m just in the mood to send Bramblestar a little present. Let’s see how he likes stoats marauding all over his territory.”

“Then you’re even more mouse-brained than I thought,” Crowfeather meowed roughly. “And if no other cat is prepared to tell you that, I will. Trouble with ThunderClan is the last thing we want right now. I don’t think StarClan wants any of the Clans to treat each other as enemies.”

“So you’re a medicine cat all of a sudden?” Onestar asked, his voice still deceptively calm, contrasted with his bristling fur and glaring eyes. “How lucky I am to have you to advise me!”

“I don’t need to be a medicine cat to know that you’re leading our Clan into danger,” Crowfeather snapped. “Bramblestar came to offer ThunderClan’s help — and StarClan knows we need it — but instead you turned him down and insulted him, and now you’re looking for ways to antagonize them. We should be making ThunderClan our ally!”

Onestar drew his lips back into a snarl. Faced with his fury, it was all Crowfeather could do not to take a step backward.

“Very well, Crowfeather,” he growled. “I’ve warned you, over and over, and I’m not warning you again. If you like ThunderClan so much, you can go and look for Nightcloud on their territory. In fact, go wherever you want — just not here. I don’t want to see you in WindClan!”

“What?” For a moment Crowfeather felt unsteady on his paws, as if some creature had hurled a rock at him. “Am I…” He couldn’t bring himself to complete the question out loud. Am I being banished?

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Onestar hissed. “I think you need some time alone to think about what makes a loyal warrior, Crowfeather. And until you do, I don’t want you in our camp and on our territory. For the next quarter moon… you are not a WindClan cat! Take some time and think about your actions. When you think you’ve figured out where you went wrong, you may request my permission to return.”

So I am being banished? Crowfeather swallowed hard, barely able to believe this was happening. But not really banished. Only for a few days… He looked around and found himself in the middle of a crowd of bewildered, staring cats. But to come back, I’ll have to grovel, he realized. Onestar wants to make me swallow my pride.

He noticed that Breezepelt, at the front of the group, looked shocked out of his fur, his eyes wide and his pelt bristling.

Some cat speak up for me, Crowfeather begged silently. You know I’m loyal… I’m WindClan through and through! I’ve given up so much for this Clan! Tell him! Tell him he’s being unreasonable!

But no cat spoke. It seemed that no cat was willing to risk Onestar’s ire… not for Crowfeather.

Not even Breezepelt, Crowfeather thought ruefully. And just as I thought we might be getting closer. He’s probably glad to get a break from me.

As his shock faded, anger settled over Crowfeather. Well, nice try, Onestar! If this is a battle of wills, I’m sure mine is stronger. I’m not going to apologize when I’m right…

He braced himself, meeting Onestar’s furious gaze with his head held high.

“Permission to return!” he snapped. “Ha! If WindClan doesn’t need me, then I don’t need WindClan.”

He turned, thrust his way through the crowd, and stalked up the slope toward the edge of the camp.

No cat called him back.