Crowfeather's Trial

“Don’t you remember coming to ThunderClan? And then the fight with the stoat?” Leafpool asked. “It gave you a bad bite on your leg, and you lost a lot of blood, but you’re going to be fine.”

“The stoats…” Crowfeather blinked in confusion, then suddenly remembered everything: Kestrelflight’s vision, the attack on the camp, and his journey to ThunderClan to fetch Leafpool.

“I’d better be fine,” he muttered, struggling to sit up and shaking scraps of bedding from his pelt. A twinge of pain on his leg reminded him of where he had been bitten. “Onestar needs every warrior—”

“Onestar will have to get along without this warrior for the time being,” Leafpool interrupted tartly. “You’re weak, and you’ll need time to recover.” As Crowfeather was about to protest, she raised her tail to silence him. “Don’t you dare argue.”

She moved to the back of the den and returned a moment later with a mouthful of wet moss. “There,” she mewed, setting it down beside Crowfeather. “Drink. I’ll go and find some cat to fetch you fresh-kill.”

Crowfeather watched her as she slipped out of the den, then lowered his head to lap water from the moss. It was cool and reviving, and he let out a sigh of resignation.

Being injured isn’t bad, he reflected. It’s kind of a relief to have to let some other cat take care of me.

Crowfeather was drowsing in his nest again when Kestrelflight came into the den and stood over him, giving the wound on his leg a good sniff. “That’s coming along okay,” he commented. “No sign of infection.”

“How is the rest of the Clan?” Crowfeather asked.

“Also coming along okay,” Kestrelflight replied with a purr of satisfaction. “Thank you so much for convincing Onestar to ask for help from other Clans. Mistystar sent Mothwing, and she’s helping to tend to the injured cats. We have enough herbs for every cat, and all the wounded are being looked after.”

“That’s really good news,” Crowfeather meowed. “I wonder what we’ll do about the stoats now.”

“Nothing, for the time being,” Kestrelflight replied. “We must get all our cats healthy first, and then we can decide.”

At that moment, Leafpool reappeared at the entrance to the den with a spray of leaves in her jaws. “Thyme leaves,” she mewed, dropping the spray in front of Crowfeather. “Eat them. They’re good for shock.”

“I don’t need—” Crowfeather began, then broke off as Leafpool pushed the leaves closer to him.

“Do as you’re told, you daft furball.”

Crowfeather rolled his eyes but licked up the thyme leaves without further protest.

Kestrelflight glanced from Crowfeather to Leafpool and back again. There was a wary look in his eyes. “Crowfeather, I’ll leave you in Leafpool’s capable paws,” he meowed. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“I thought you said something about fresh-kill,” Crowfeather complained when the medicine cat was gone. “My belly thinks my throat’s torn out.”

“It’ll be along in a few moments,” Leafpool responded in an amused tone. Settling down beside him, she added, “How do you feel?”

Crowfeather shifted experimentally. “My leg hurts as if a badger is trying to gnaw it off, but otherwise I’m fine.”

Leafpool fixed a steady gaze on him from warm amber eyes. “Are you really, Crowfeather?” she asked. “Tell me the truth.”

How can I answer that? Crowfeather asked himself. How can I tell Leafpool about my problems with Breezepelt and Nightcloud, and how Onestar nearly banished me from the Clan for good? He shifted uncomfortably in his nest; his chest clenched, and the pain in his leg almost made him forget his hunger pangs. “Things have been better,” he admitted. Hoping to distract Leafpool, he added, “How are you doing in ThunderClan?”

Leafpool twitched her ears at him, showing she knew very well why he was changing the subject. “I’m okay,” she replied. “StarClan has accepted me again, so I can work as a full medicine cat.”

“I’m glad.” Crowfeather paused, then went on. “And Lionblaze and Jayfeather — do they…?”

“They’ve accepted me, too,” Leafpool responded. “I think they’ll always feel that Squirrelflight is their true mother, but… well, we get along. Hollyleaf was the cat who could never accept that she was half-Clan.”

And Hollyleaf is dead, Crowfeather thought bleakly. Before I ever had the chance to get to know her.

“Hollyleaf died nobly, protecting her Clan,” Leafpool told him, as if she could read his mind. “In spite of all that had gone before. You can be proud of her, Crowfeather. You can be proud of all your kits.”

Including Breezepelt?