Crowfeather's Trial

Home, Crowfeather thought. But is it mine? Will Onestar have me back?

He had little time to muse on this, because the rest of the journey back to camp was a long and arduous trudge through the snow. By now the sun had risen, and every cat was exhausted; Crowfeather felt as if his paws were going to fall off. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept, and he began to feel a squirming like worms in his belly when he wondered how Onestar would react to his return. I’d like to find the fattest rabbit on the fresh-kill pile, then curl up in my den and sleep for a moon! he told himself. But I’ll probably find myself wandering about on the moor again.

But as he and his Clanmates drew closer to the camp, Crowfeather began to feel even more uneasy. He thought he could hear the voices of cats raised in distress. And as the wind veered around to blow straight at them from the camp, it brought a foul odor along with it.

Crowfeather had to stop himself from retching. “What is that?” he demanded.

Chapter 25

No cat responded to Crowfeather’s question. For a heartbeat they gazed at one another with a terrible realization, then turned as one and raced over the last swell of the moor, until they reached the top of the hollow.

“Oh, StarClan, no!” Heathertail exclaimed.

Looking down into the camp, Crowfeather saw a scene of complete devastation. Bedding from the nests was scattered everywhere, and the gorse bushes that sheltered the nursery and the elders’ den were half torn away. Worst of all, the center of the camp seemed to be covered with the bodies of injured cats; Crowfeather couldn’t tell how many of them might have been dead. The reek of blood filled the air, along with a lingering, horrible, familiar smell.

Crowfeather’s belly clenched in panic. The stoats have attacked!

He led the way down into the camp, flinching at the heavy scent of fear and blood. The first cat they came to was Emberfoot, who was lying on his side and bleeding from a deep scratch down his flank.

As Crowfeather and the patrol approached him, Emberfoot raised his head and fixed them with an angry glare. “Onestar!” he yowled. “They’re back!”

The WindClan leader emerged from his den and stalked across the camp, weaving his way through the bodies of his Clanmates. Crowfeather noticed a large, angry-looking wound on his neck and shoulder, and for a moment he couldn’t focus on anything else. What happened here?

Then he saw that Onestar’s eyes were narrowed in fury as he halted in front of Crowfeather and the others.

“How dare you leave camp without telling me?” he snarled. Crowfeather realized that the Clan leader wasn’t looking at him; his anger was directed toward Breezepelt, Heathertail, and Gorsetail. “You may have noticed,” he continued, waving his tail to indicate the wrecked camp, “that the stoats attacked us during the night. They were able to do this because”—he glared at Heathertail—“our border was not being watched.”

The she-cat’s blue eyes shimmered with shame, as she dipped her head. But Crowfeather could tell, she didn’t dare speak.

“It was a terrible battle!” Onestar went on. “It took a long time to drive them away, and many, many cats were injured.”

Crowfeather gazed around the camp and at the bodies of his Clanmates strewn on the ground. Some had only minor wounds, though others were barely able to move. Onestar wasn’t exaggerating. This was a serious attack.

“It was my idea to—” he began, but the Clan leader ignored him, as if he hadn’t spoken, or even as if he weren’t there.

“If you had been here, as you were supposed to be,” Onestar went on, “you could have helped fight back. Three more warriors would have made a difference.”

Guilt flooded over Crowfeather as he realized that his Clan leader was right. He was glad that his companions, especially Hootpaw, had avoided being injured in the battle, but he knew that they should have been there, doing their duty as warriors. “I’m sorry,” he meowed, letting his tail droop. “It’s my fault. I took them away from camp. But I had a good reason for it.” He stepped aside and Nightcloud came forward.

Onestar gazed wide-eyed at the black she-cat, who dipped her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Onestar.”

“It’s even better to see you,” the Clan leader mewed, his voice still heavy with tension, like a storm cloud before it breaks. “Are you well?”

“I am now,” Nightcloud replied. “Thanks to them.” She waved her tail at the others.