Crowfeather's Trial

“No,” Onestar responded, every cat’s gaze turning to him at the brusqueness of his tone. “We’ll keep this to ourselves for now. WindClan can solve this problem without involving ThunderClan, or their inexperienced new leader.”

Harespring dipped his head in agreement, though Crowfeather thought that he still looked doubtful. Crowfeather understood his doubts — but he understood Onestar’s hesitation, too. Onestar had always bristled at Firestar’s attempts to involve himself in other Clans’ business. Maybe he was hoping for a new relationship with ThunderClan, now that Bramblestar was leader.

“It’s possible Nightcloud is trapped or being held prisoner by the stoats,” Onestar continued. “If so, we have to concentrate on rescuing her.”

“Yes!” Hope suddenly sprang up in Crowfeather, like an unexpected sunrise. We’re acting as if Nightcloud is dead, but she could still be alive. If only we can get back there in time… “We have to send a patrol out tomorrow — and I’ll lead it this time.”

Even if we can only make sure that she’s not left alone out there, prey for scavengers, he thought but did not say aloud. Or thrown on that pile of rotting crow-food. The idea almost made him retch, and he struggled for self-control.

“Good,” Onestar responded with a nod of approval for Crowfeather.

After a moment’s hesitation Crowfeather suggested: “Maybe Heathertail should come, too.”

Onestar tilted his head, as if wondering why Crowfeather was asking specifically for Heathertail. Crowfeather wondered how he would explain it without giving away Heathertail’s history with the tunnels, but his leader just shrugged. “Sure. And I’ll need two or three more cats to volunteer as well.”

Crowfeather saw relief on Heathertail’s face, as Crouchfoot spoke up. “I’d like to go,” he mewed, determination in his face.

“And me,” Larkwing added eagerly. Crowfeather guessed she was trying to shake off her reputation as a Dark Forest cat.

Many more cats raised their voices then, volunteering to help rescue their Clanmate. Crowfeather saw Onestar’s chest puff with pride at the courage of his warriors; then he shook his head as he called quickly for quiet.

“We should keep the search party small,” he meowed. “A small group will have a better chance of going unnoticed by the stoats. And if our enemies somehow leave the tunnels and find their way to our camp, WindClan will be better defended if we have strong fighters here, ready to meet an attack.”

“If any stoat tries to invade WindClan territory,” yowled Emberfoot, “it’ll be the last thing it ever does.”

As the gathered cats spoke their agreement, warmth began to spread inside Crowfeather at the way the Clan was coming together. After the terrible battle against the Dark Forest, he knew that all the Clan cats felt protective of their Clanmates and their territory, ready to defend them from every threat.

Especially if that threat is not a cat!

Breezepelt raised his head, the light of resolve in his eyes. “I’m going too,” he stated, with a glare at Crowfeather as if daring him to tell him he couldn’t.

But it was Crouchfoot who objected. “You don’t have to.”

“I am going.” Breezepelt spat out each word. “Nightcloud is my mother.”

“Of course you can go,” Onestar agreed before Crowfeather could respond. “You’re more familiar with these creatures’ scent than the rest of us.”

Crowfeather gave his son a nod, and was rewarded by seeing a flicker of surprise in Breezepelt’s eyes, as if he had expected a refusal from his father. “We’ll leave at dawn,” he meowed.

That night, Crowfeather found it hard to sleep. The moss and bracken in his nest felt as if they were full of thorns and spikes, the sharp prickles reminding him all too clearly of the claws of the stoats they had fought. If he closed his eyes, he could see their sinuous white bodies glowing in the dusk and their cold, malevolent eyes, and hear their chittering cries. Once or twice he half started up, convinced that the evil creatures were invading the camp, only to realize that the attack was all in his mind.

At the same time, Crowfeather couldn’t stop worrying about Nightcloud. Making her his mate had been a huge mistake, and things were so bad between them now that they could hardly go out on the same patrol without snapping at each other — but that didn’t mean he no longer cared about her. He felt heaviness like a stone in his belly at the thought that he might never see her again, realizing that, despite everything, he would miss her. And he wasn’t the only one.

WindClan needed her! Crowfeather might not have loved her the way he should have, but he knew she was an amazing cat: courageous, intelligent, and loyal.