Crowfeather's Trial

Chapter 26

Crowfeather bounded across the moor with Harespring at his side, wondering what he could say to Bramblestar. Hope of finding help for his Clan had given him fresh energy, and he felt that he could face ThunderClan whatever happened. Knowing that Breezepelt and Gorsetail were on their way to RiverClan strengthened him, too. Mistystar had no reason to be hostile to WindClan, so they could at least count on her to send Mothwing or Willowshine. No WindClan cats will die today.

Reaching the border stream, Crowfeather and Harespring halted. “We’d better wait for a patrol,” Crowfeather meowed, peering into the trees at the opposite side. “We don’t want to start off by trespassing. That would really get under their fur.”

Harespring didn’t reply, though Crowfeather became aware that the deputy was gazing at him. He turned toward him and saw that Harespring was shaking his head slightly. “What?” he asked.

“You’re more optimistic than I am, if you think you can convince ThunderClan to help us after the way Bramblestar and Onestar confronted each other,” Harespring responded. “What were you thinking, going to ThunderClan without Onestar’s permission?”

“I was thinking that I wanted to do what was right for WindClan,” Crowfeather replied. “Even if that wasn’t what Onestar wanted. Isn’t the whole Clan more important than any one cat — even if that cat is the Clan leader?”

“Of course it is.” Harespring sat down at the edge of the stream, flicking his ears thoughtfully. “But Onestar is our leader. We might disagree with him, but in the end we must listen to him.”

Crowfeather blinked at Harespring, realizing he had nothing to say to that. “I suppose going to ThunderClan wasn’t my smartest move,” he meowed. He hesitated before he went on, knowing there was something he had to say to Harespring, however much he might not like admitting it. “Onestar was right to make you his deputy, Harespring. I know now that I still have more to learn.”

Harespring’s whiskers arched in surprise. “I’ve always felt it should have been you, Crowfeather. I’m glad you feel you can accept me.”

Crowfeather dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Anyway,” he added, trying to lighten the mood, “you must have bees in your brain if you think that ThunderClan would turn down the chance to get tangled up in another Clan’s affairs.”

Harespring’s tail curled up in amusement. “You could be right,” he agreed.

“Leafpool will help, if I can only meet with her,” Crowfeather mewed, hoping that he would be able to speak to Leafpool this time. Jayfeather will be even more hostile now, if we have to plead with him.

Harespring hesitated before replying, and Crowfeather thought he was looking slightly awkward. His paws shifted uncomfortably, and when he spoke, his voice was a low murmur. “Is it strange,” he asked eventually, “talking to Leafpool after all this time? I know that you two used to be close.”

“Close”? That’s putting it mildly! Crowfeather thought. Do I still have feelings for Leafpool? But then he thought of all that had happened in the seasons they’d been apart. They led separate lives now, and the idea of being together seemed even more impossible than it had seasons ago, when they’d tried to run away. He no longer felt an ache when he imagined Leafpool without him. Now he felt only admiration, and hope that she was happy.

He shrugged. “All that is in the past,” he replied. “But I still respect Leafpool, and I think she’ll want to help a Clan in need.”

Deep in conversation with Harespring, Crowfeather was startled a moment later when a ThunderClan patrol emerged from the other side of a nettle patch. Poppyfrost was in the lead, with her apprentice, Lilypaw, while Birchfall brought up the rear. Crowfeather realized that while he and the deputy had been talking, he had forgotten to keep watch on the far bank of the stream. Mouse-brain! he scolded himself.

Harespring rose to his paws; both he and Crowfeather dipped their heads respectfully to the ThunderClan cats.

“Greetings,” Harespring meowed. “May we come across? We need to speak to Bramblestar.”

Poppyfrost regarded them with narrowed eyes. “You again, Crowfeather? You’re spending more time in ThunderClan territory than in your own.”

“I was very grateful for permission to cross,” Crowfeather responded, biting back a sarcastic retort. “We found Nightcloud. She’s fine, and she’s home now.”

The ThunderClan cats looked surprised, and a little pleased, relaxing from their first suspicious demeanor. Crowfeather realized that no Clan cat would like to think of another lost and injured, even though she belonged to a different Clan. Ivypool had been concerned, too, and all the Clans had joined together to help one another against the Dark Forest.

We’re Clan cats. It’s what we do.

“Good,” Poppyfrost mewed. “So why are you here now?”

“We have a request to make of Bramblestar,” Harespring replied.

Poppyfrost stared at him until she seemingly realized that Harespring wasn’t going to reveal the request.

“Let them come,” Birchfall prompted her. “It might be important.”

Poppyfrost hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “I suppose two cats aren’t an invasion,” she decided. “Okay, come over.”

The stream here was too wide to leap, but shallow enough to wade through. Crowfeather padded forward cautiously, flinching at the cold feeling of water on his belly fur, though he was grateful for the refreshing touch on his tired paws. It feels like moons since I’ve been able to rest.

On the other side both cats shook their pelts, being careful not to splatter the ThunderClan patrol, and at Poppyfrost’s command followed them through the trees in the direction of the ThunderClan camp.

When they arrived in the stone hollow, the whole Clan seemed to be out in the open. Purdy was stretched out in front of the elders’ den, telling a story to Seedpaw while the apprentice searched him for ticks. Several warriors, including the deputy, Squirrelflight, were gossiping by the fresh-kill pile. Brightheart and Daisy were enjoying the pale leaf-bare sun beside the entrance to the nursery, while Brightheart’s three kits wrestled and rolled about nearby.

It seemed to Crowfeather that as soon as he and Harespring had emerged from the thorn tunnel and advanced a few paces into the camp, the gaze of every cat was trained on them. They don’t look friendly, either. Every cat must know what Onestar said to Bramblestar.

“Wait here,” Poppyfrost ordered them curtly.

She raced across the camp and bounded up the tumbled rocks that led to Bramblestar’s den halfway up the camp wall. Crowfeather exchanged a glance with Harespring.

“Let me do the talking,” the deputy meowed. “And for StarClan’s sake, don’t say anything to annoy Bramblestar.”

“I’m not stupid,” Crowfeather muttered.

A moment later, Bramblestar appeared from his den and picked his way down the rocks to the camp floor. As he approached, Crowfeather could see that he seemed surprised and wary; his amber eyes were cold as he looked the two WindClan cats up and down.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Harespring dipped his head respectfully. “Greetings, Bramblestar. We’ve come to ask for ThunderClan’s help. We need a medicine cat.”

Bramblestar was silent for a moment, his gaze flicking from Harespring to Crowfeather and back again. “You need a medicine cat,” he repeated. “You’re asking for our help, after Onestar insulted me when I came to offer my help with the stoats?”

“We’ve had more trouble with them,” Harespring responded. “Many of our cats are injured.”

Bramblestar hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned to Squirrelflight, who had padded up to stand at her leader’s shoulder. “I don’t want any cat to suffer,” he meowed. “Fetch Leafpool and Jayfeather, please.”

As Squirrelflight left, Bramblestar faced the WindClan cats again, giving his whiskers a disdainful twitch. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Harespring hesitated, casting an uncertain glance at Crowfeather, who could share his tension, knowing what Bramblestar’s reaction was likely to be. “We came up with a plan to deal with the stoats,” Harespring admitted at last. “We blocked up the tunnel entrances on our side, but that only made them angry. They attacked our camp last night. We—”

“So you haven’t dealt with the stoats?” Bramblestar’s voice was a hiss of fury, and the fur on his muscular shoulders began to rise. “I suppose it didn’t occur to you that if you blocked up the tunnels at your end, that would drive the stoats out into ThunderClan territory? Or did you realize that, but you just didn’t care? It never crossed your mind that you might warn us?” He let out an angry snort. “I thought Onestar was an experienced leader. He said he had this under control!”

Harespring couldn’t find words to reply, merely flexing his claws in the earth floor of the camp. Crowfeather thought that the silence would stretch out forever. I’m glad Harespring is doing the talking. I wouldn’t know what to say to that, either.

He was aware that the rest of the Clan was gathering around, their ears pricked eagerly to listen to this confrontation. The whole of ThunderClan will know how badly we’ve handled this!

Squirrelflight returned with Leafpool and Jayfeather, and the three cats thrust their way through the crowd to join the group at its center.

Bramblestar was the first to break the silence. “Tell me if I have this straight,” he began; his voice was soft, but every word bit as hard as a fox’s fangs. “I went to Onestar to offer ThunderClan’s help in driving out the stoats. Onestar insulted me and my whole Clan, and insisted he would take care of the problem himself. His plan was a disaster, because he did not have the problem under control, and now he’s sending you to ask for ThunderClan’s help. Is that correct?”

Harespring was obviously finding it difficult to meet the ThunderClan leader’s gaze. “Yes,” he mumbled at last.

“I want to hear you say it,” Bramblestar growled. “I want to hear you say that Onestar’s decisions got his Clan into trouble and he needs ThunderClan’s help.”

Harespring’s only response was to cast a helpless glance at Crowfeather. You wanted to do the talking, Crowfeather thought. So talk now. Can’t you see that we don’t have any choice?

“Well?” Bramblestar asked, the tip of his tail twitching irritably.

“We got ourselves into trouble and we need ThunderClan’s help,” Crowfeather replied instantly. “I’m sorry for what happened,” he added, “but we need help right now, not anger. Cats could die.”

Bramblestar paused for a moment; Crowfeather felt as though his belly were full of squabbling stoats as he waited for the ThunderClan leader’s decision. What kind of leader will he turn out to be? he asked himself.

Eventually Bramblestar nodded. “Very well. Leafpool may go with you.”

Leafpool’s expression was full of relief as she took a pace forward to stand beside Crowfeather. Crowfeather knew very well she hated to think of cats in need, whatever their Clan might be. All the warmth and affection he had once felt for her threatened to well up again inside him, and he ruthlessly pushed it down again.

All that was over a long time ago. But even while he admitted that, Crowfeather asked himself whether he had ever felt as strongly as that about Nightcloud. No, I never did. Is that a bad thing?

He forced himself out of his musing to hear Harespring thank Bramblestar. “We should leave right away,” he meowed. “Every moment might count for the injured cats.”

Bramblestar dipped his head and turned away, heading back to his den. The rest of the cats began to disperse, back to their duties.

Leafpool touched Crowfeather on the shoulder with the tip of her tail. “Wait for me a moment,” she mewed. “I need to fetch some herbs.”

She bounded away toward the medicine-cat den, with Jayfeather beside her. He was telling her something, his tail twitching as he spoke. I can’t imagine that’s anything good, Crowfeather thought. He’s probably warning her to beware of the vicious, treacherous WindClan cats.

Leafpool reappeared from the den a few moments later, a leaf wrap of herbs in her jaws, and with Harespring in the lead the three cats headed out of the camp. Crowfeather relaxed as they emerged at the far end of the thorn tunnel, away from all those curious ThunderClan eyes.

Once they were out in the forest, Harespring drew a little way ahead; Crowfeather guessed he wanted to give him and Leafpool the chance to talk.

I’m not sure that’s a good idea. There’s not much we have to say to each other anymore.

But Leafpool seemed quite unembarrassed to be alone with the warrior she had once valued more than both her Clan and her calling as a medicine cat. “Ivypool told me you went looking for Nightcloud,” she began, managing to talk around the leaf wrap. Her gaze was friendly and sympathetic. “Did you find her?”

“Yes,” Crowfeather replied. “Some Twolegs were looking after her, and we had to rescue her from their den. She’s fine now.”

“I’m so glad!” Leafpool hesitated, then went on more diffidently, “Now you and Nightcloud will have the chance to work things out. After all, having kits ties you together forever, no matter what happens after that…”

Her voice trailed off, and she cast Crowfeather an awkward, flickering glance before padding on with her gaze fixed firmly on her paws.

Like we did… Crowfeather too looked at the ground to hide his discomfort. What Leafpool had just said applied to them, too, of course, but neither of them dared say it aloud.

After a few moments, Crowfeather summoned the courage to continue. “It’s true what you say. And I would like to be friends with Nightcloud, if I ever manage to tell her so.”

He remembered how he and Nightcloud had been allies during her rescue and on the journey home, but that closeness hadn’t survived their return to camp. He still didn’t really know what to say to her.

By the time Crowfeather and Leafpool crossed the border stream and left the trees behind to climb up onto the moor, Harespring was out of sight. Crowfeather wondered whether he had gone on ahead to tell WindClan that help was on its way.

Then Crowfeather spotted movement behind an outcrop of rock, and thought that the deputy must be waiting there for them. But the creature that emerged into the open wasn’t Harespring. Instead of the deputy’s bright eyes and brown-and-white pelt, Crowfeather saw blinding white fur and sharp teeth.

It’s one of those StarClan-cursed stoats!

The small white animal tottered toward them; its legs looked weak, and Crowfeather guessed that it must be ill, or maybe had been wounded in the battle.

“So that’s a stoat!” Leafpool exclaimed, her voice sounding intrigued. “I’ve never seen one before. It looks… disgusting.”

“They are,” Crowfeather told her, remembering how the WindClan apprentices had underestimated the creatures. “They don’t look that threatening, but they’re vicious fighters. We need to—”

He broke off as the stoat, drawing nearer to them, suddenly made a dart at Leafpool, who started back, scattering the herbs she had been carrying. With a yowl of outrage, Crowfeather dashed in and intercepted it. Even though the stoat had looked sick, it was still a wild, ferocious fighter, rearing up and slashing its small claws at Crowfeather’s face.

Crowfeather was terrified that the stoat would tear at his eyes and blind him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he managed to grip the sleek creature with his forepaws and drag it to the ground with him, battering at his opponent with his hind paws.

But the stoat was wiry and sinuous, and Crowfeather couldn’t hang on to it. He felt it slip out of his claws, followed by an intense, sharp pain in his hind leg. Opening his eyes, Crowfeather saw the stoat with its teeth fastened in his leg just above his paw. Leafpool had bounded up and was slashing at the stoat’s hindquarters.

“No! Get back!” Crowfeather yowled, terrified that the vicious creature would turn on her.

Swiping a forepaw at the stoat’s head, Crowfeather knocked it clear. It scrambled to its paws and looked around, its malignant gaze fastening on Leafpool, who was still within a fox-length of it.

As the stoat leaped for her, Crowfeather found a sudden burst of energy. No way will I let Leafpool die on WindClan territory! Intercepting the stoat before it could reach Leafpool, he gripped its shoulder with his teeth and dragged it away. He raised one paw, claws extended, to slash at the creature’s throat, but before he could strike, the stoat twisted its body, thrust its hind paws at Crowfeather, and managed to wrench itself free. Scrambling out of range, it fled for the tunnels.

I guess it doesn’t want to fight anymore, Crowfeather thought. Well, I won’t give it the choice.

Crowfeather was about to follow the stoat when Leafpool darted in front of him. “Don’t!” she meowed anxiously. “You’re injured.”

Blinking in confusion, Crowfeather looked down at his hind leg. Blood was gushing from the place where the stoat had bitten him.

“Look at that! Now we have another injured WindClan cat. The bleeding’s bad, Crowfeather,” she added. “Try not to go to sleep.”

Crowfeather wondered vaguely why he would want to sleep out here, away from his den. But now that the fight was over, his energy ebbing, the pain in his leg grew until it seemed to take over his whole body. His ears were filled with a sound like rushing water.

Rushing dark water…? As he stumbled on toward the camp, Crowfeather thought once more about Kestrelflight’s dream, wondering whether the stoats were what the dark water, gushing from the caves, was pointing to.

Am I going to die? The first death in a series that will end in… what? The fall of the Clans? His vision of the second wave, the one that engulfed everything, was somehow mingled with the sight of his Clanmates that morning, lying wounded in the middle of the camp. And somewhere in all the confusion he could hear the amused purring of a long-haired white kittypet.

Harespring’s voice seemed to come to him from a great distance. “I heard yowling. What happened?”

Leafpool’s voice sounded far away, too, and faded in and out so that Crowfeather could hardly make sense of her words.

“… fighting a stoat… bleeding is so bad… Harespring, find me some cobweb.”

Crowfeather sensed movement around him, and a firm touch on his leg, followed by Leafpool’s distant voice again. “Harespring, help me lift him… get him to your camp.”

When did I fall to the ground? Crowfeather wondered. He felt strong paws begin to raise him, the movement sending a stab of pain through him that took his breath away. With a sigh of relief, he gave himself up to swirling darkness.