Crowfeather's Trial

Night had fallen by the time Crowfeather and Nightcloud reached the WindClan camp, carrying Breezepelt’s unconscious body between them. Crowfeather might almost have thought that his son was dead, except for the faint rise and fall of his chest and the blood that was still trickling from his belly wound and many others.

Kestrelflight had already made a nest for Breezepelt in the medicine-cat den, and prepared a thick wad of cobwebs to begin staunching the flow of blood. Crowfeather and Nightcloud hovered anxiously at the entrance to the den.

Several of the other WindClan warriors were resting close by; some of them licked their wounds, while others lay stretched out with their eyes closed. None of them looked as badly injured as Breezepelt.

As Kestrelflight began to lick the dirt from Breezepelt’s lacerated body, the unconscious cat let out a whine of pain. Crowfeather and Nightcloud exchanged an anxious glance, then crowded into the den to get closer to their son’s nest.

Kestrelflight looked up, a harassed expression in his eyes. “You’ll have to wait outside,” he mewed. “I can’t treat Breezepelt if I’m continually tripping over the two of you.”

Crowfeather began to retreat, but for a moment Nightcloud stood frozen, staring at her unconscious son. Crowfeather nudged her gently. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let Kestrelflight do his job.” After a heartbeat Nightcloud followed him out, though they both still watched from the entrance to the den.

Kestrelflight’s not usually so snappy, Crowfeather thought. That must mean he’s really worried about Breezepelt. He felt as if a heavy, rotting lump of crow-food had lodged in his belly. What if I’ve made peace with Breezepelt just in time to lose him?

Crowfeather remembered a time when Breezepelt was still in the nursery. There had been an outbreak of whitecough in the WindClan camp, and Breezekit’s had turned into the deadly greencough. Crowfeather had spent each night barely sleeping, wrapped around the tiny kit as though his love and attention could cure his son. When Breezekit woke up one morning with the cough almost gone, Crowfeather’s relief had been so intense that he couldn’t remember having felt anything like it since.

I shouldn’t have forgotten that, he thought. I was a good father to him once. I shouldn’t have doubted myself so much.

While Crowfeather and Nightcloud waited, Heathertail limped up to stand beside them. “How is Breezepelt?” she asked, fixing Crowfeather with a worried gaze.

Crowfeather simply shook his head, while Nightcloud replied, “Not good.”

Heathertail’s claws worked for a moment in the ground, her head and tail drooping. Crowfeather caught a questioning look from Nightcloud, and responded with a nod. Yes, this will be the mother of our son’s kits. Breezepelt was lucky, he reflected, to have such a strong warrior in his life, so loyal to him and to their Clan.

Nightcloud brushed her tail down Heathertail’s side. “Kestrelflight is doing everything he can,” she mewed. “Now it’s in the paws of StarClan.”

Heathertail nodded, then took a deep breath and stood quietly waiting beside her Clanmates.

Just as Crowfeather was beginning to feel that he couldn’t hold on to his patience for another heartbeat, Kestrelflight rose and came out of the den. “Breezepelt is seriously injured,” he began.

Tell us something we don’t know, Crowfeather thought irritably.

“But will he be all right?” Nightcloud asked.

After a long moment, Kestrelflight nodded. “Provided he gets plenty of rest, he should get better.”

Nightcloud let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank StarClan!”

“If you want,” the medicine cat continued, “one of you can spend the night with him so you’ll be there when he regains consciousness. That way I can see to treating the other injured cats.”

Crowfeather glanced at Nightcloud; he would be happy to stay with their son, but Breezepelt would probably rather see Nightcloud when he woke.

But before either of them could speak, Heathertail stepped forward eagerly. “I’ll stay.” Then she too glanced at Nightcloud, ducking her head in embarrassment. “If that’s okay with you, of course,” she added.

Crowfeather expected Nightcloud to object, knowing how possessive and protective of Breezepelt she had always been. At first she was clearly fighting with the urge to admonish Heathertail, her whiskers twitching irritably, but then she stepped back a pace with a glance at Crowfeather. He gave her a nod of approval, knowing how hard it would be for her to release her hold on Breezepelt.