Crowfeather's Trial

We may not be in love, but we make a fierce team on the battlefield. I know she’ll fight ferociously for me, and for all her Clanmates.

Crowfeather’s reflections were interrupted by a screech of pain. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Lionblaze fall, the golden tabby warrior overwhelmed beneath a swarm of stoats. Crowfeather leaped toward him, only to run into what felt like a solid wall of wiry white bodies. He tried to fight his way through, but too many of them surrounded him. A throb of terror for his ThunderClan son pulsed through Crowfeather; he couldn’t reach Lionblaze to help.

He was thrusting vainly against the tide, knowing he would be too late, when Breezepelt leaped into the battle, seeming to come from nowhere. Crowfeather could see that he was bleeding from several wounds, but they hadn’t sapped his energy. He grabbed two of the stoats on top of Lionblaze, shaking them and ripping out their throats.

Lionblaze managed to stumble to his paws. He and Breezepelt stared at each other uncomfortably for a moment, then turned away, back to the battle.

Crowfeather couldn’t believe what had just happened. “Did you see our son?” he breathed out.

Nightcloud’s response was a rough shove. “Don’t stand there gaping, mouse-brain!” But Crowfeather could see that her eyes were warm with pride.

Looking around for his next opponent, Crowfeather realized that the war was all but over by now. The stretch of ground between the gorse bushes and the tunnels was strewn with the bodies of stoats. The last few were fleeing, bleeding and whimpering with fear.

In the middle of the devastation, Onestar and Bramblestar padded up to each other, each of them dipping his head in gratitude and respect to the other.

“Cats of ThunderClan and WindClan!” Onestar called out. “You have fought well today. The battle is won.”

“And the stoats are gone for good, I hope,” Bramblestar added.

Meanwhile Kestrelflight, Leafpool, and Jayfeather, who had waited out the battle among the gorse bushes, began to move among the injured cats, examining their wounds and applying treatment with the herbs they had brought.

Crowfeather looked around for Breezepelt and spotted him standing a couple of fox-lengths away, licking a wound on his shoulder. Before Crowfeather could join him, he saw Lionblaze limping toward him. Crowfeather held back while his two sons confronted each other.

“Thank you for helping me,” Lionblaze began, halting a pace or two in front of Breezepelt. His gaze and his tone were wary. “But why did you? You said I should never have been born. You wanted me dead.”

Breezepelt looked up at him, equally awkward. His eyes were guilty as he replied. “I should never have listened to the Dark Forest cats,” he mewed stiffly. “You’re a Clan cat, and my loyalty should be to the Clans.”

Crowfeather realized that this was as close as Breezepelt was ever going to get to an apology for attacking Lionblaze during the Great Battle. He felt his muscles tense as he waited for Lionblaze’s response, aware for the first time of how much he wanted his two sons to get along. Come on, he urged Lionblaze silently. Accept his apology!

Clearly, Lionblaze knew how hard it was for Breezepelt to say even so much. “You fought well,” he meowed reluctantly. “I’m glad we were on the same side this time.”

The two toms stared at each other and exchanged an awkward, jerky nod before each of them quickly turned back to his own Clan.

Crowfeather felt an unexpected surge of affection for Breezepelt. He was such a surly, difficult furball sometimes, but he was trying so hard to redeem himself. If Breezepelt could do it, so could he. I can tell my son how I feel about him.

Crowfeather headed toward his son, who turned to gaze at him. Breezepelt opened his jaws, clearly about to speak, but before he could utter a word, his legs folded under him and he collapsed limply to the ground.

Crowfeather darted to Breezepelt’s side. He saw blood pooling beneath him, and, gently turning him over, saw a nasty bite on his belly, as if the stoat had torn his flesh away. The wound had been concealed when Breezepelt was standing upright. Blood trickled through his matted fur. Crowfeather lost his breath as he realized how serious this could be.

“Help!” Crowfeather forced air into his lungs again and yowled. “Kestrelflight, over here!”

But it was Nightcloud who arrived first, crouching beside her son’s body and calling his name while she frantically licked his ears. Breezepelt didn’t respond.

Crowfeather stared down at his son, digging his claws into the ground. You can’t die now, he thought helplessly. Oh, StarClan, no — not when we’re starting to understand each other at last!

Chapter 31