Crowfeather's Trial

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.

Chapter 27

Dark clouds whirled around Crowfeather, shot through with flashes of lurid red light, as if the sun were setting through a storm. Now and again he caught glimpses of familiar faces: Nightcloud, Feathertail, Leafpool, and their kits, but as he imagined they had been in the nursery: innocent young cats with no idea of the pain they would have to suffer. Crowfeather tried to reach out to them, but they were swept away from him into a roaring darkness. At last a great wave surged up around him, closing over his head and leaving him to float in starless night.

Gradually, Crowfeather became aware of quiet movement around him and the sharp tang of herbs in his nose. He opened his eyes to find himself in Kestrelflight’s den, with a blurred tabby shape sorting herbs a tail-length away from him.

“Leafpool?” he murmured, managing to focus his eyes. For a moment he wondered why a ThunderClan medicine cat would be working in the WindClan camp. It was seasons since he and Leafpool had been alone together, and Crowfeather half believed she was still part of his hectic dream.

Leafpool turned to him, her eyes wide and welcoming. “Oh, you’re awake!” she purred. “Thank StarClan!”

“What am I doing here?” Crowfeather asked, confused and trying to shake off sleep. “Why are you in Kestrelflight’s den? What happened?”