Crowfeather's Trial

Prologue

Crowpaw pressed himself back into the crevice. He winced at the sharp points of rock jabbing into his fur; they told him the space was too shallow to shelter him. He let out a cry of terror as he gazed up at the looming head and shoulders of Sharptooth, the huge lion-cat. Sharptooth stooped over him, scraping at the rock with one paw’s massive talons. Moonlight filtering through the waterfall cast a glow on his face, showing Crowpaw lips drawn back in a cruel snarl, curved fangs, and jaws dripping with drool. Sharptooth’s rancid breath swept over Crowpaw, and his eyes glared down, savage with hunger.

I can’t believe I’m going to die like this! Crowpaw thought desperately. Not after all we’ve been through! We’ve left our homes, traveled so far, and faced so many dangers. We met the badger Midnight and discovered a new destiny for our Clans. I want to be part of that… I want to be part of our future! But now it’s over…

Crowpaw could hear the wailing of the Tribe cats and see skinny forms perched on ledges high above the cave floor in shades of gray and brown. His panicked gaze sought out Feathertail, and his heart warmed when he spotted her gray pelt. She was crouching beside her brother, Stormfur, on a ledge just under the roof.

She is so beautiful! I don’t want to die before I have the chance to…

Then, somehow, above the terrified cries of the other cats and the snarling of Sharptooth, Crowpaw heard Feathertail.

“I can hear the voices clearly now,” she meowed. “This is for me to do.”

For a moment Crowpaw’s fear was banished by confusion. What voices?

Silver flashed in the moonlight as Feathertail launched herself from the ledge, hurling herself at one of the pointed stones that hung down from the roof. For a few heartbeats she clung there, digging her claws into the rock.

Crowpaw heard Stormfur yowl, “No!”

He watched in horror, forgetting his own danger, as the stone began to split away from the roof with a sickening crack. It couldn’t support Feathertail’s weight and was about to collapse. “Feathertail!” he yowled. “No! Get down from there!”

But it was impossible for Feathertail to escape. With a dull grinding noise, the stone broke away and plummeted down. Feathertail was still clinging to it, falling straight toward Sharptooth. Crowpaw could hardly bear to watch, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze from the scene.

The lion-cat looked up; his snarl changed to a scream of pain as the spike thrust its way into his neck. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony, as Feathertail tumbled from the spike, hitting the cave floor beside him. For a moment Crowpaw was frozen with shock as he gazed at the gentle she-cat. Her eyes were closed. Crowpaw couldn’t tell whether she was breathing. Is she alive?

Stormfur hurtled down the rock toward his sister’s side. Beside them the lion-cat twitched for a few heartbeats, then gave a massive shudder and was still.

Sharptooth was dead.

“Feathertail?” Stormfur whispered.

Crowpaw stumbled out of his crevice, still shaking, and crouched beside the two RiverClan cats. “Feathertail?” he rasped, hardly able to keep his voice steady. “Feathertail, are you okay?”

Though Feathertail did not respond, Crowpaw could now see the faint rise and fall of her chest. “She’s alive!” he mewed, his pads prickling with hope.

“She’ll be fine.” Stormfur’s voice cracked, as if he didn’t believe what he was saying. “She’s got to be. She… she has a prophecy to fulfill.”

But a terrible fear was growing inside Crowpaw. What if Feathertail just did fulfill the prophecy? It had spoken of a silver cat who would save them from a terrible lion-cat. Crowpaw had never imagined that it would actually come true — or that the silver cat would be Feathertail. But did that mean her story ended here?

What if she never goes home to help lead her Clan to its new territory?

He crept forward until his nose touched Feathertail’s shoulder. Breathing deeply, he let her sweet scent flow through him, and gently began to lick her ruffled pelt. He thought about the future he had dreamed of, where they found a way to be together even though they were from different Clans. “Wake up, Feathertail,” he mewed. “Please wake up.”

He let out a gasp as Feathertail’s eyes fluttered open. She looked warmly at Crowpaw, then turned her head slightly to look up at Stormfur.

“You’ll have to go home without me, brother,” she murmured. “Save the Clan!”

“Feathertail,” he croaked through a painful lump in his throat. Then her head shifted again, her gaze focusing once more on Crowpaw. He trembled at the intense love he saw in her blue eyes. I don’t deserve her, he thought. I never deserved her.

“Think you have nine lives, do you?” Feathertail whispered. “I saved you once… Don’t make me save you again.”

“Feathertail… Feathertail, no!” As she weakened before him, Crowpaw felt as if a huge weight were crushing his chest, so that he could hardly speak. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” The words were breathed out so faintly that Crowpaw could scarcely hear them. “I’ll always be with you. I promise.”

Then Feathertail’s eyes closed, and she did not move or speak again.

Crowpaw turned to look at Sharptooth’s body, bloody and growing cold. Feathertail had killed the lion-cat, fulfilling the Tribe’s prophecy, but nothing about it felt right. What good was saving Crowpaw and the Tribe if Feathertail had to give her life to do it? He flung his head back and let out a wordless wail, which echoed off the cave walls, an outpouring of all his love and anguish. Then darkness swirled around him and he crouched beside Feathertail in a tight knot of grief. He felt as if all the light in the world had been snuffed out. How could he live with this loss?

Voices drifted past him in the dark: He heard Stormfur, blaming himself for bringing Feathertail back to the Tribe. He turned his head to look up at the RiverClan cat. “It’s my fault.” Crowpaw’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “If I’d refused to come back to the cave, she would have stayed with me.”

“No…,” Stormfur said softly, reaching out to Crowpaw, who could only bow his head.

He could hear Brook and Stoneteller trying to comfort Stormfur, but there would be no comfort for Crowpaw now — maybe not ever.

“The Tribe of Endless Hunting spoke truly,” said Stoneteller. “A silver cat has saved us all.”

Yes, thought Crowpaw, but no cat saved her, and now the Clans will never be the same. Never. The word echoed around Crowpaw until he felt his heart would break. We’ll never be mates or have kits together. I’ll never see her again. Never…

Crowfeather woke, shivering. His pelt was soaked with early-morning dew, but that wasn’t the reason for the chill that struck deep within him. It had been countless moons since Feathertail had died killing Sharptooth, but in his dream it had felt as if it were happening all over again. The pain of losing Feathertail felt like a fresh wound.

I thought I would never love another cat, he thought. And yet now…

He glanced down at the small tabby-and-white she-cat who was curled up beside him underneath the thornbush. His grief for Feathertail had consumed him, and it had taken him many moons to find the path that would lead him out of darkness. Now he could not understand how Leafpool had made her way into his heart, filling him with more joy than he had ever hoped to feel again.

Like Feathertail, she was a cat from another Clan. But unlike Feathertail, Leafpool was a medicine cat, and had vowed never to take a mate. This made their love even more impossible than his first. I certainly know how to make things complicated, Crowfeather thought with a wry twitch of his whiskers. The only way he and Leafpool could be together was to make a huge sacrifice — to leave the Clans and everything they had ever known.

But they had decided to take the risk. Amazingly, Crowfeather thought, watching Leafpool’s chest rise and fall, we could have had a future together.

Leafpool had come with him willingly, heading out into unknown territory. But then, the night before, they had met the wise badger Midnight, who had told them that savage badgers were gathering to attack the Clans. The battle would be fierce and bloodstained; cats would die. Leafpool had said nothing about returning, and neither had he, but as he watched her sleeping form, Crowfeather knew what she would say to him when she woke. Her dedication and her loyalty to ThunderClan were part of why he loved her.

And that meant their dream of being together would soon come to an end.

“Oh, Leafpool,” he sighed aloud. “I would have taken care of you until my last breath.”

As if his words had disturbed her, Leafpool awoke, leaping to her paws, her eyes wild and distraught. “Crowfeather!” she gasped. “I can’t stay here. We have to go back.” She looked at him, her wide eyes full of regret.

Crowfeather raised his head. “I know,” he mewed, sadness rising inside him like a flooding stream. “I feel the same way. We have to go and help our Clans.”

He could see the relief in her eyes as she pressed her muzzle against his. He wished they could stay that way forever, but much too soon she let out a purr and meowed, “Let’s go.”

As they trekked across the moorland toward home, though neither one of them said it, Crowfeather realized that he was losing another mate — not as terribly as he had lost Feathertail, but just as finally. Leafpool was choosing to return to her Clan because they needed her, needed their medicine cat, and that meant that Crowfeather’s only option was to reunite with WindClan. He imagined what it would feel like, walking back into a camp he’d never expected to see again. Everything would seem foreign to his eyes; he himself would feel like a stranger.

If they’ll even have me, he thought bitterly. They all know where I went, and why, and they’ll blame me for leaving. There’ll be questions about my loyalty, that’s for sure.

“I’ll never forget what we shared,” Leafpool murmured as they approached the stepping stones that led across the stream into ThunderClan territory. There was grief in her face, but a set determination that was stronger.

“Nor will I,” Crowfeather responded. Halting at the edge of the stream, he pressed himself against Leafpool’s side, and parted his jaws to taste her scent for the last time. I’ll miss her so much, he thought. Her softness, and her strength and courage. And how we could play together as if we were no older than kits again…

Leafpool pushed her nose into his shoulder fur. Her amber eyes were full of love for him.

But it’s not enough. She doesn’t love me enough. Her heart lies here, with her Clan. She’s so loyal… I just wish that she could be as loyal to me.

“Good-bye, Crowfeather,” Leafpool whispered. “I’ll see you again when all this is over.”

“What do you mean, ‘good-bye’?” Crowfeather made his voice harsh. Otherwise he would have started wailing like a lost kit. “I’m not leaving you when there are hostile badgers around.”

“But you need to warn WindClan,” Leafpool protested.

“I know, and I will. But I’ll see you to your camp first. It won’t take long.”

Leafpool didn’t argue with him. But as he followed her across the stepping stones and into the trees, Crowfeather knew that he was only prolonging their anguish.

That’s it, he thought as he raced along. As Leafpool disappeared into the thick undergrowth, he knew that he would never be with her this way again. They would cross paths during Gatherings and other Clan business, but they’d have to keep their distance, as if they’d never loved each other at all. He couldn’t bear to imagine how much that would hurt. He couldn’t think of anything worse. If he was lucky, maybe a badger would tear him apart.

If I do survive, he thought, I’m finished with love. It only ended in pain and loss, an ache in his belly as if he’d swallowed jagged stones. From now on, he vowed as he forced himself to follow Leafpool, I’ll only worry about my duty to my Clan. No more love — not ever again.