Crowfeather's Trial

For a moment Onestar still hesitated, perhaps expecting Breezepelt to arrive. He shot a questioning look at Crowfeather, as if asking whether they should wait. Crowfeather shook his head, trying not to let his frustration and disappointment show.

Onestar took a breath and began to speak. “Nightcloud was a strong warrior, and an important part of WindClan,” he meowed. “She will be truly missed by every cat.”

That’s true, Crowfeather thought. He knew he missed Nightcloud as the mother of his son, and he was worried about how her death was affecting Breezepelt. But now he realized that he felt more than that. He would miss Nightcloud as a friend, too. He knew he hadn’t treated her well when she was alive, but he had always thought he would have the chance to work it out later.

I guess it’s too late for that now.

Crowfeather listened in silence while other cats spoke about Nightcloud and how much she meant to them all.

“She’s one of the bravest cats in the Clan.”

“And a great hunter. No rabbit can — I mean could — outrun her!”

Crowfeather noticed that some of them were finding it hard to refer to her as if she was really gone. They’re having trouble paying tribute to her heroic death when no cat knows exactly how she died.

“She showed her courage when she went into the tunnels to attack the stoats,” Crouchfoot declared. “And when she was abandoned there—”

Abandoned?

“Hold on. Stop,” Crowfeather interrupted. Were some of his Clanmates really about to use the vigil to attack Breezepelt? He wouldn’t have it. He hadn’t planned to challenge any cat at Nightcloud’s vigil, but now that Crouchfoot had brought it up, he couldn’t just keep silent. That would make it seem as if he agreed. It’s time to bring this into the open — especially now, while Breezepelt isn’t here.

“Are you accusing Breezepelt of something?” he demanded.

“If we are, we have good reason,” Crouchfoot replied. “Why would Breezepelt leave the tunnel without his mother? How could he have left her behind?”

“Yes, no warrior would do that,” Leaftail added. “Unless Breezepelt had something to do with her disappearance.”

“That’s enough!” Onestar’s voice rang out commandingly and his eyes were glittering with anger. “I have told all of you, many times, that I trust Breezepelt, but you choose to question my decision — and at a vigil, of all places?”

Murmurs of disagreement rose from some of the warriors. Crowfeather felt a prickle of uneasiness beneath his pelt. He appreciated that his leader was supporting Breezepelt, but would Onestar’s trust end in splitting the Clan?

He remembered, again, how the wind in the medicine cat’s vision hadn’t been enough to drive back the flood. Maybe Kestrelflight’s vision was a sign of a threat from within the Clan.

But Crowfeather had no time to think that through now. “All of you flea-brains are wrong!” he meowed, turning on his accusing Clanmates. “Breezepelt can be prickly, and I’ve had my problems with him, too, but I’ve never questioned his love for his mother. When she and I argued, Breezepelt always took her side. He supported her in any way he could. The two of them always took care of each other. He would never hurt Nightcloud,” he asserted.

As he spoke, he realized that Onestar was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and approval. Fine, he thought. You told me to support Breezepelt, and now you’ve got what you wanted.

“Then why isn’t Breezepelt here?” Weaselfur challenged him.

“Because he’s grieving, you mouse-brain!” Crowfeather snapped. “Think about it. Because he thinks he has no support from the cats in this Clan, and he’s right — you’re all accusing him of things he would never do.”

“Not all of us!” Heathertail called out. “I agree that Breezepelt would never hurt his mother — or any WindClan cat. He’s a protector — he saved me when the stoats attacked me in the tunnels. I’ve seen how hurt he is about what happened to Nightcloud. You should all be ashamed of yourselves for spreading these rabbit-brained ideas!”

She glared at Crouchfoot as she spoke, and Crouchfoot let out a snarl in return, his shoulder fur bristling up. “You only say that because you like him!” he cried. “And Crowfeather is his father. Of course you don’t want to see him as a bad cat — but that doesn’t mean he isn’t bad!” Several other cats let out yowls of agreement.