Crowfeather's Trial

Heathertail and Hootpaw gave up their caterwauling and joined them as they fled, with Gorsetail bringing up the rear.

“This is fun!” Hootpaw exclaimed, his eyes shining.

Crowfeather felt a flash of irritation at the way the apprentice was enjoying all this. But then he reflected that at least Hootpaw was getting through a dangerous situation, and playing a useful part, without losing his nerve. What’s the point of scolding him?

As they reached the fence, Nightcloud turned back for a moment. “I’m sorry, Pickle!” she called back to the white tom.

The cats didn’t stop running until they had crossed the Thunderpath again and reached the outskirts of the forest. Then Crowfeather felt it was safe to slow to a walk, though he kept his ears pricked and his nose alert for any sign of the foxes.

Breezepelt was padding along close to his mother, their pelts brushing, hardly watching where he was putting his paws because his gaze was fixed on her. His eyes were full of concern for her, and relief at having her back. Crowfeather thought that they almost looked like a family, although he still felt apart from the two of them. Breezepelt had never looked at him that way. And Nightcloud had certainly never looked at Crowfeather with the love she felt for Breezepelt.

“What happened to you?” he asked Nightcloud. “How did you end up in that Twoleg den?”

“It’s a long story,” the black she-cat replied, scratching at the white leaf thing. “Before we go any farther, get this off me, will you? I can’t do it myself.”

Breezepelt and Heathertail teamed up, clawing and biting at the white thing until they finally tore it off. Crowfeather padded up to it and gave it a curious sniff. It carried Twoleg scent, and Nightcloud’s, but that didn’t tell him very much. “What was that for?” he asked.

“Pickle told me it was supposed to stop me from messing with my wound,” Nightcloud explained with a disdainful flick of her tail. “Like I’d be so stupid!”

Crowfeather twitched his whiskers with amusement. “Flea-brained Twolegs! They think we have the sense of a sparrow.”

Nightcloud sighed. “It’s maddening. Anyway, I was hurt fighting the stoats in the tunnels, and I got completely lost in there. When I finally came out, I realized I was on ThunderClan territory. I was trying to get back to WindClan, but when I stopped by a pool to have a drink, three foxes surprised me.”

“I found that place,” Crowfeather told her. “I smelled your blood and your fear. I thought you must be dead.”

“I thought I was headed for StarClan,” Nightcloud admitted. “I tried to run away from the stupid mange-pelts, but I was so hurt and tired they could have caught me easily.” She gave her tail an angry lash. “If the stoats hadn’t wounded me, no way would those foxes have gotten anywhere near.”

“But they didn’t hurt you?” Breezepelt looked completely horrified by his mother’s story.

Nightcloud gave him a comforting nuzzle. “No. They just made me go the way they wanted. I think they were playing with me. Or maybe if they can get their prey to their den on its own paws, they don’t have to carry it, right? I wanted to climb a tree, but I didn’t have the strength even to do that.”

Heathertail brushed her tail along Nightcloud’s side. “That sounds dreadful. How did you get away?”

Nightcloud gave her chest fur an embarrassed lick. “I hate to say this, but it was a Twoleg and his dogs that saved me. They were walking in the forest, and the dogs — two big, stinky things — frightened the foxes away.”

“Was that the Twoleg who took you back to his den?” Breezepelt asked.

“No, I ran away, too,” Nightcloud told him. “I met a cat called Yew at the edge of the forest, and—”

“I met him, too,” Crowfeather interrupted. “That’s how we knew to come and search for you in the Twolegplace.”

Nightcloud nodded. “Yew is a weird cat, but decent,” she mewed. “He’s the one who gave me the idea to go ask for help from the Twolegs. ‘Just wail pitifully,’ he told me, ‘and they’ll do anything for you.’”

“So what did you do then?” Heathertail asked.

“I took Yew’s advice and crossed the Thunderpath into the Twolegplace,” Nightcloud replied. “I reckoned the foxes wouldn’t dare follow me there. I ended up in the garden of that den where you found me.

“Those Twolegs took me to a den full of disgusting smells. The Twoleg that lived there gave me some kind of round white seed that made me go to sleep. When I woke up, she’d fixed my wound — look.”

Nightcloud turned to one side. Looking at her more closely, Crowfeather could see a patch on her side where the fur had been scraped away and was just starting to grow back. In the middle of the bare patch was a long wound, the edges fastened together with tiny scraps of tendril.

“Weird…,” he murmured, giving the wound a sniff. “I wonder if Kestrelflight could fix wounds like that?”