Crowfeather's Trial

The stoat leaped at Crowfeather again, and Crouchfoot and Larkwing thrust their way forward, dragging it off as it sank its claws into Crowfeather’s shoulders. Crouchfoot raked his claws down its side and the stoat fled, whimpering, into the darkness. But as it vanished, more and more of the white shapes came skittering into the cavern, converging on the group of cats. The stoats’ malignant eyes glinted in the pale light, and their lips were drawn back to reveal their spiny fangs.

So they’re showing themselves at last, Crowfeather thought grimly. That first one was just to get us in the mood for a battle!

Breezepelt charged ahead with an earsplitting caterwaul, obviously ready to fight every single one of them. Crowfeather’s belly lurched with fear, and he sprang forward to put his own body between his son and their enemies. Larkwing helped him drag Breezepelt back down the passage, with Crouchfoot in the rear, slashing and raking his claws to drive the stoats back until they all burst out into the open.

“But what about Heathertail?” Larkwing gasped. “I didn’t see her in there.”

“I’ll find her!” Breezepelt yowled.

Before Crowfeather could stop him, he whipped around and barreled back into the tunnel, slamming into the stoats and knocking them aside to force his way through them.

“Breezepelt, no!” Crowfeather screeched after him. But his son paid no attention. The lithe, white-furred stoats closed around him as he fought his way through and vanished into the darkness. Soon the sound of skittering claws and pounding paw steps died away.

For a heartbeat Crowfeather stood frozen, stunned by the speed of Breezepelt’s attack. Then, with a massive effort, he pulled himself together. “We have to go after him,” he meowed.

Larkwing and Crouchfoot exchanged an anxious glance, then nodded and stood a little taller — as if, by pretending, they could make themselves feel more confident than they actually were. “We’re with you,” Crouchfoot responded.

Crowfeather braced himself to plunge back into the tunnel, into the deadly crowd of stoats, but before he could move, Larkwing yowled, “Wait!”

Turning toward her, Crowfeather saw that she was pointing with her tail. Looking in that direction, Crowfeather spotted a light brown tabby she-cat stumbling out of another tunnel opening farther along the bank, with a black tom hard on her paws. Heathertail and Breezepelt… they’re alive! As soon as they emerged, Breezepelt spun around and dropped into a crouch, baring his teeth and sliding out his claws.

“Come out if you dare, you filthy stoats!” he snarled.

Crowfeather raced along the bank; he could hear the paw steps of Crouchfoot and Larkwing as they pounded along behind him.

A few stoats were jostling one another in the entrance, snarling in response to Breezepelt’s challenge, but before any cat could attack, they crept backward and vanished into the darkness.

As Crowfeather and the others reached him, Breezepelt rose to his paws, blinking in surprise. Crowfeather knew that Breezepelt had nearly drowned once in these tunnels. He guessed his son had never seen himself as brave enough to charge into them again like that, in search of Heathertail.

He must really have wanted to prove himself.

With the danger over for the time being, Crowfeather whirled around to confront Heathertail. “Are you completely mouse-brained?” he demanded. “If you don’t care about your own safety, what about your Clanmates’? We could have lost you and Breezepelt because you were such a stupid furball!”

He got the impression that Heathertail was hardly listening. She was staring past him, and he realized that her blue gaze was fixed on his son.

“Thanks, Breezepelt,” she murmured. “You were really brave.”

Oh, for StarClan’s sake. Breezepelt had an admirer. I suppose there’s a she-cat out there for every tom, Crowfeather reflected. No matter what a fuzz-brain he may be.

Breezepelt gave the ground a couple of awkward scrapes with one forepaw. “It was nothing,” he mumbled.

Breezepelt didn’t just do that to prove himself, Crowfeather realized with a tingle of shock in his whiskers. He must really care about her. And it might not be one-sided…

He knew that Breezepelt had been padding after Heathertail ever since they were both apprentices. But back then, she had seemed more interested in Lionblaze, the ThunderClan tom. Crowfeather had been vastly relieved when that friendship fizzled out.

No good can come out of relationships outside your own Clan. He suppressed a sigh. No cat knows that better than I do.