Crowfeather's Trial

Chapter 29

The day after the Gathering dawned damp and cloudy, and there was a tang of rain in the wind that blew from the top of the moor. By now most of the snow had disappeared, except for drifts in sheltered hollows, but frost furred the tough moorland grass, and every pool was rimmed with ice.

My paws are cold enough to fall off, Crowfeather thought.

He shivered as he headed toward the ThunderClan border along with Onestar and a chosen group of WindClan warriors. Harespring padded along at his leader’s shoulder, while Nightcloud and Breezepelt followed closely behind. Heathertail was bringing up the rear.

After the Gathering had ended, Onestar and Bramblestar had remained behind and talked. They’d decided that they would meet at the border to discuss how their Clans would work together to defeat the stoats. Crowfeather could only hope that this time they would come up with a plan that would succeed.

As they left the moor behind and entered the strip of woodland beside the stream, Crowfeather became aware of a strong ThunderClan scent just ahead. Drawing closer to the border, he spotted a large group of the ThunderClan cats assembled on the opposite bank; Bramblestar and Squirrelflight stood in the center, with Jayfeather on one side of them and Lionblaze on the other.

Crowfeather couldn’t help noticing how many of the ThunderClan warriors looked wary and distrustful, muttering to one another as the WindClan cats padded up. His pelt prickled with apprehension at the sight of them.

How will we unite to fight the stoats if we can’t get along among ourselves?

In particular, Crowfeather noticed that Lionblaze and Breezepelt were glaring at each other.

However, Bramblestar dipped his head politely to Onestar as the two leaders faced each other across the stream. “Greetings, Onestar,” he meowed.

Equally polite, Onestar returned the greeting, and Crowfeather breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, no cat was going to mention Bramblestar’s lack of experience or Onestar’s failure to control the stoats on his own.

“So,” Bramblestar began, “what do you suggest, Onestar?”

“We’ve tried going down the tunnels to fight the stoats,” Onestar replied, “and it was a disaster. The stoats know the tunnels better than we do, and there are too many places for them to hide. There are more of them, and they’re smaller than us, so they fight better in tight corners. Somehow we have to get them out into the open.”

Bramblestar looked thoughtful. “Of course, ThunderClan has some experience with underground fighting…,” he mused.

Crowfeather slid out his claws. Seasons ago, when Firestar was still ThunderClan leader, WindClan had attacked ThunderClan in the tunnels and been soundly defeated. Later he had learned that Hollyleaf, who had once lived down there, had trained her Clan in special fighting techniques.

Is Bramblestar genuinely offering to use their special skills, he wondered, or is he finding another, more subtle way to insult Onestar? Not that Onestar doesn’t have it coming, he added wryly to himself, remembering Onestar’s scathing attack on Bramblestar in the WindClan camp.

But Onestar seemed unaware of any possible insult, or perhaps he’d realized he couldn’t afford to be insulted. “I still think we need to get them out,” he mewed. “But whatever we decide, we will have to kill a good number to have any real chance of getting rid of them.”

Crowfeather saw Rosepetal and Mousewhisker of ThunderClan exchanging a scornful look. “I can’t imagine how the WindClan warriors were defeated by animals that are so much smaller than them,” Rosepetal murmured.

“Yeah, they’re tiny,” Mousewhisker agreed.

Squirrelflight’s head swiveled around to glare at her Clanmates. “Hold your tongues!” she snapped.

“You’ve obviously never fought with them,” Furzepelt mewed disdainfully. “They’re fierce, their teeth are sharp, and they attack when you’re not expecting them.”

“And you should see them leaping and twisting in the air,” Larkwing added. “Does ThunderClan have any better battle moves? I don’t think so.”

Crowfeather saw several of the younger ThunderClan warriors glancing at one another, their eyes stretched wide with alarm, though the more experienced warriors looked disbelieving.

“I’m sure they must have felt like a pack of ravenous beasts,” Thornclaw meowed with a lofty air.

“Our warriors are right,” Harespring told him. “Of course I’ve seen stoats before — we all have — but not in a large pack like this. These snow-white ones are ferocious. We need to take them seriously.”

“Of course we do.” Bramblestar took control again. “So, let’s hear some ideas of how to fight the stoats without attacking in the tunnels and putting ourselves at a disadvantage.”

“I think we should block up the tunnels as we did before,” Crowfeather suggested, giving voice to an idea he’d been mulling over since the Gathering, “and then send in a force of cats to drive the stoats out to one place, where the rest of us will be waiting.”

“That could work,” Heathertail agreed. “We’ll have to be sure we cover all the tunnels.”

“Yes,” Lionblaze put in, “and make sure the stoats don’t retreat the other way and come out on ThunderClan territory. It’ll work best if we can keep them on the WindClan side of the underground river.”

Standing beside Lionblaze, his mate, Cinderheart, twitched her ears in amusement, but Crowfeather saw the golden tabby tom look suddenly sheepish, while Heathertail briefly averted her gaze. He knew Heathertail was familiar with the tunnels between the territories — he’d always wondered if she’d explored them alone, or with the ThunderClan cat.

Beside him, Crowfeather sensed Breezepelt bristling. Obviously, he had drawn the same conclusion.

Why can’t he let it go? Crowfeather wondered. Heathertail’s heart is clearly with Breezepelt now, but he still holds on to every scrap of his hostility to Lionblaze.

“I’ve got a better idea.” Breezepelt spoke loudly, and Crowfeather suspected he wanted to distract Heathertail’s attention from the golden ThunderClan warrior. He didn’t even look at Lionblaze, as if his half brother weren’t there at all. “Instead of endangering several cats by trying to drive the stoats out of the tunnels — and maybe driving them over to ThunderClan — why not send in one cat to attack a stoat and draw the others out?”

Lionblaze huffed out his breath. “Are you suggesting we put a lone cat into danger?” he meowed to Breezepelt. “Or are you volunteering to go confront the stoats yourself?”

Breezepelt turned his head to stare at him. “Of course I’m volunteering,” he responded instantly. “Mouse-brain,” he added under his breath, only loud enough for Crowfeather and perhaps Nightcloud to hear.

Crowfeather clamped his jaws shut, not allowing himself to intervene. He felt intensely proud of Breezepelt, but the thought of his son venturing alone into the stoat-infested tunnels made every hair on his pelt bristle with fear.

Then he remembered how he had once thought that a breeze was a kind of wind, driving back the engulfing water in Kestrelflight’s vision. Perhaps Breezepelt was the cat destined to take this risk and save his Clan.

“Are you sure?” Onestar asked Breezepelt.

Breezepelt nodded. “I promised at the Gathering that I would prove myself a loyal warrior,” he declared. “Now I’m fulfilling that promise.”

Crowfeather’s gaze swept over the assembled cats as Breezepelt made his courageous offer, noticing a glint of approval in Onestar’s eyes. Most of the others seemed impressed, too. But when he glanced hopefully at Lionblaze, he saw that his ThunderClan son’s face was set in cold dislike. Crowfeather felt that look like a claw slicing through his heart. Clearly, the offer wasn’t enough for Lionblaze to forgive Breezepelt for trying to kill him.

The need to show his support for Breezepelt flooded over Crowfeather. He wanted to be the father to him that he always should have been. And now he knew how to do it, and at the same time show that he put his Clan’s needs above his own.

It will be dangerous, but if Breezepelt can take the risk, then so can I.

“I’ll go as well,” he meowed, padding up to his son’s side.

A murmur of surprise came from his Clanmates. “It’s not necessary,” Harespring told him.

“I want to support my son,” Crowfeather responded, catching a look of surprise on Lionblaze’s face, and Jayfeather’s. Did I choose the right words there? he asked himself, briefly anxious. Will they think I don’t accept them as my sons? Then he dismissed the worry. This wasn’t the right time. Glancing at Onestar, he added, “I suppose I need to prove my loyalty to WindClan, too.”

Onestar clearly shared his Clan’s surprise, but something in his gaze told Crowfeather that he was impressed, too. “I think we should combine the plans,” he suggested to Bramblestar. “We’ll block every tunnel that we can, and leave just one entrance open, on the WindClan side.”

Bramblestar nodded agreement. “Then Breezepelt and Crowfeather will try to infuriate the stoats—”

“They should find that really easy,” Jayfeather put in.

His Clan leader gave him a stare from narrowed eyes. “Thank you, Jayfeather,” he mewed, an irritated edge to his voice. “As I was saying,” he continued, “Crowfeather and Breezepelt will infuriate the stoats enough to draw them out of the tunnels, where the warriors will be waiting for them.”

“It should work well.” Harespring, who had been sitting at the very edge of the stream near his Clan leader, sprang to his paws. “I’ll lead the patrol to find the tunnels and block them off, if Lionblaze and Heathertail will help.”

“Of course,” Heathertail mewed, and Larkwing added quickly, “I’d like to help, too.”

Birchfall stepped forward from the ThunderClan group across the stream, with Mousewhisker at his side. “We’ll organize the fighters to be ready to spring out and attack the stoats.”

“We’ll be waiting for them,” Blossomfall meowed, pushing forward with Thornclaw hard on her paws.

“And me!” Whiskernose called from the WindClan side. Onestar shook his head at the light brown elder, but Whiskernose ignored him.

Crowfeather noticed that all the volunteers had trained with the Dark Forest cats; they were all cats who had been doubted and feared and distrusted by their Clanmates, yet here they were, eager to prove themselves loyal warriors of their Clans at last.

Glancing around, he saw that other cats had realized it too: Murmurs of praise rose from them, and they exchanged glances of approval.

Let’s hope their lives will be easier from now on, Crowfeather thought.