Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather was silent, his claws flexing in and out as he struggled to calm himself. Part of him felt as if he should leap onto Onestar and rake his claws through his leader’s tabby fur. But he knew that attacking his leader would be crazy. If he lifted a claw to Onestar, he would be driven out of WindClan forever. Even thinking about doing it surprised and confused him. Why was he so angry all the time?

“I expect more from you, Crowfeather,” Onestar continued. “You are a brave and talented warrior. But you need to get to the bottom of your own problems and become a true WindClan warrior once again.”

“Do you know what I’ve given up to be loyal to WindClan?” Crowfeather demanded, his anger spilling over at last. “I’ve sacrificed so much, and you don’t give a mousetail about that!” Yet even as he said these words, guilt began to seep into his mind. There had been a time when he would have left WindClan to be with Leafpool; it was her decision that had led them back to the hunting grounds by the lake. From the way Onestar was looking at him, Crowfeather could tell that he suspected as much.

Onestar inclined his head. “I do know what you have sacrificed — or what you think you have,” he meowed. “But if you were sincerely a WindClan cat above all else, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into that situation. And once you had, you would have accepted why it needed to end. You would not still be bitter about it.”

Full of rage and confusion, Crowfeather let his claws slide out and dig hard into the ground; he felt as if his blood were bubbling and his fur prickling. He didn’t know how to respond.

“You can go now,” Onestar told him with a dismissive wave of his tail. “Tonight, Kestrelflight will go to the half-moon meeting,” he added. “Perhaps StarClan will give him some guidance. And tomorrow I will send another patrol to see if we can find out what’s going on in the tunnels.”

Crowfeather waited until his fur had stopped prickling. Then he dipped his head respectfully to his Clan leader and stalked away. As he headed for the fresh-kill pile, he spotted Nightcloud and Breezepelt talking together. They broke off and raised their heads to watch him as he padded past, their eyes narrowed mistrustfully. Crowfeather thought of what Onestar had just said, about letting his anger go.

But I’m not ready to do that. Not yet.

Even more annoyed, Crowfeather seized a thrush from the pile and carried it away to the edge of the camp, far away from any other cat. He ate alone, in swift, angry bites.

I’ve given everything to my Clan, he thought resentfully. What more does Onestar want from me?

Chapter 2

Crowfeather chased a rabbit across the moor, reveling in the feeling of cold wind flowing through his fur, and the strength of his own muscles as they bunched and stretched to propel him effortlessly after his prey. He raced along so fast it felt as if his paws hardly touched the tough moorland grass.

A hole in a bank loomed up ahead, the entrance to one of the tunnels. The rabbit plunged into it, and without hesitating Crowfeather followed. He chased the rabbit down tunnels that twisted far more than he remembered, growing narrower and narrower until he could feel his fur brushing both sides in the blackness.

At last Crowfeather halted, his flanks heaving. He couldn’t scent the rabbit anymore, or hear the scrabble of its paws on the stone floor of the tunnel. Damp cold struck up through his pads, and he realized with the first stirring of panic that the passage was too narrow for him to turn around. He had no idea where he was.

Slowly now, Crowfeather began to pad forward, his heart pounding as he felt water flowing around his paws, growing deeper as he struggled onward.

Cats have drowned down here, he thought.

His belly fur was brushing the water when he spotted a feeble, flickering light ahead of him. Hoping he had found a way out, he waded on more rapidly, until he came to a place where the tunnel wall was scooped out at one side to form a kind of den. Crowfeather’s jaws dropped open with shock and disbelief as he recognized the cat who was sitting there.

“Ashfoot!” he choked out.

His mother sat with her head erect and her tail wrapped around her paws. Crowfeather couldn’t tell where the pale light was coming from. It seemed to radiate from Ashfoot, yet she didn’t have the frosty glitter to her fur that was the mark of a StarClan cat.

As Ashfoot spotted her son, she stood up and fled down the tunnel, her paws seeming to skim the surface of the water.

“Wait!” Crowfeather yowled, splashing clumsily after her. “Don’t leave me! Ashfoot!”

But she was gone, and the light gone with her. Crowfeather was alone in the darkness, with water lapping around his shoulders. “Ashfoot, why are you here?” he asked, as if his mother could still hear him. “Why are you not in StarClan?”