Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather had a sudden impulse to confide in Leafpool. Once, he had been able to open his heart to her, and although those days were past, he still felt that he could trust her more than any other cat. Besides, Leafpool was a ThunderClan cat, and wouldn’t be prejudiced against Breezepelt in the same way as his Clanmates. He could speak frankly to her without worrying what other cats would think.

“I want to be proud of Breezepelt,” he confessed. “But it’s hard. There’s so much anger inside him. I know he’s a brave and loyal warrior, but it’s as if he doesn’t know how to show that. To me or to his Clan.”

“But things may be getting better,” Leafpool responded. “From what I hear, he fought bravely against the stoats. And he did well when he went with you to search for Nightcloud.”

Crowfeather nodded, feeling a little encouraged. “He would do anything to help his mother.” Then he let out a sigh. “Nightcloud… I’d do anything to connect with her and Breezepelt. But somehow… What do you think, Leafpool? Why does it always go wrong?”

Leafpool stifled an amused mrrow. “Crowfeather asking another cat for advice!” she exclaimed. “What next?” More seriously, she added, “No matter what, Breezepelt and Nightcloud are your kin. True, you’ve had a difficult past, but you could have a good future.” She leaned closer to Crowfeather, fixing him with her amber gaze. “Admit it, Crowfeather,” she mewed gently, “you might have had a paw in your problems with both of them. You’re not the easiest cat in the forest to get along with.”

“You’re saying I’m difficult?” Crowfeather was outraged, but a heartbeat later he had to recognize the truth of what Leafpool had said. I did push Onestar too far, he admitted to himself. And I could have been more supportive of Breezepelt. “I suppose…” he grumbled. “So you think I need to make more of an effort?”

“Exactly,” Leafpool agreed. “Try to talk to them about how you really feel.”

Had she been talking to his dead mother? That was almost the exact same advice Ashfoot had given him. “I’ll try, but—” Crowfeather began.

At that moment, a paw step sounded outside the den and Nightcloud entered, carrying a vole in her jaws. “Fresh-kill,” she meowed, dropping it beside Crowfeather’s nest and giving Leafpool a long look with narrowed eyes.

Crowfeather’s pelt prickled with the awkwardness of being so close to two she-cats who had each been his mate. Leafpool gave him a meaningful gaze, and he was pretty sure of what she was trying to tell him.

“Thank you, Nightcloud,” he mewed. “That’s kind of you. Do you want to share?”

Nightcloud’s eyes widened in surprise, and she glanced across at Leafpool, as if she was wondering whether Crowfeather had offered to share in an attempt to make the ThunderClan she-cat jealous.

“No, I already ate.” Nightcloud’s tone was abrupt, but she settled down beside Crowfeather, tucking her paws underneath her.

“I’d better be going,” Leafpool put in, rising to her paws with a polite nod to Nightcloud. “I have to check on the other wounded cats.” Picking up a bunch of chervil in her jaws, she padded out of the den.

Crowfeather, who had taken a bite of the vole, quickly swallowed. Though he was struggling to find the right words, he remembered Leafpool’s advice, and realized that he had to try. “Nightcloud, I’m sorry if I offended you yesterday,” he meowed. “I wasn’t sure what to say to you, now that you’re back.”

Nightcloud gave him a hard stare, and for a moment Crowfeather was afraid that once again he had said the wrong thing. Then the black she-cat seemed to soften.

“The truth is, I was badly hurt in the tunnels,” she began after a heartbeat’s hesitation. “And as much as I told those kittypets that I was a Clan cat, and I belonged with my Clan… honestly, after the Twolegs rescued me, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to come back to WindClan.”

“Not come back?” Every hair on Crowfeather’s pelt prickled with shock. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this from Nightcloud. She’s the most loyal WindClan warrior I know!

“At least, not right away,” Nightcloud continued. “I felt so weak and tired… I never seriously thought that I would stay away forever, but for the time being it was good to be a kittypet — to have food and warmth and safety without having to chase prey, or risk my life fighting foxes. And I was… well, I was adored just for who I was. I had never felt that before, and it was sort of nice. Even when I was prickly, my Twolegs and Pickle never stopped trying to make me happy and comfortable. Pickle may have been a kittypet, but he was kind to me. He let me share his nest, and gave up his best napping spots for me. He shared his favorite toys with me, even when I told him I didn’t play with toys. He acted like I was the most important cat in the world.”

Pickle? Stupid name! Stupid cat!