Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather was reluctant to answer. He knew that many of his Clanmates didn’t trust Breezepelt, and if he — Breezepelt’s own father — expressed his doubts, he might make everything worse.

But if I can’t trust our own medicine cat, who can I trust?

“About Breezepelt,” Crowfeather confessed at last. “I’ve been feeling better about him lately, and at the Gathering he vowed to get rid of the stoats, but I still can’t shake off the worry that he can’t be trusted.”

Kestrelflight let out an amused purr. “I’m the medicine cat,” he pointed out. “It’s usually me who gets the visions.”

His words reminded Crowfeather of Kestrelflight’s latest vision: water pouring out of the tunnels, the wind driving it back, then fading away, allowing the surge of water to engulf everything.

“When you had your vision at the medicine cats’ meeting,” he meowed thoughtfully, “StarClan must have been warning us about the stoats in the tunnels, but… surely the vision seems more complicated than that? Do you think there could be more to it? That the stoats are just the first problem we’ll face?”

Kestrelflight let out a weary sigh. “I’ve been wondering the same thing, ever since it happened,” he replied. “The stoats could have crept onto our territory at any time while we were recovering after the Great Battle, but even so, they’re the sort of enemy that the Clan should have been able to deal with easily.”

Crowfeather nodded. “That’s true. That skirmish shouldn’t have gone so badly. We should never have lost Nightcloud.”

“That’s what makes me wonder what the vision of water means,” Kestrelflight continued. “At first I thought that the way the wind drove back the water meant that WindClan would win a victory, but there was a second surge, and no wind to defeat that. Does that mean WindClan will be defeated? And what will that mean for the other Clans? Will we have to face the teeth and claws of another enemy, whether that’s the stoats or some other hostile force lurking in the darkness?”

“I’ve wondered the same,” Crowfeather admitted. “Well, what the second surge means — and if it implies we should be working with the other Clans.” A chill ran through Crowfeather from ears to tail-tip as he considered the medicine cat’s words. He asked himself whether this hostile force in the darkness could be Breezepelt’s rage and bitterness, lurking within him.

But the wind in Kestrelflight’s dream did have an effect on the first flood that threatened to drown their camp. Maybe that meant there was a chance of victory.

And a breeze is a type of wind… Hope and excitement warred with disbelief inside Crowfeather, swelling just as the dawn light grew in the sky above the moor. What if the wind in Kestrelflight’s vision didn’t mean the whole of WindClan, but just referred to Breezepelt? A breeze is a soft, weak wind, for sure, but… what if Breezepelt is to play a role in saving us?

Could there be a better redemption?

Chapter 13

“Rear up on your hind paws,” Crowfeather instructed, demonstrating the move as he spoke. “Then you can get in two blows at your enemy — one with each forepaw — before you land and dart away.”

“That’s cool!” Hootpaw exclaimed.

The sun was rising over the moor, though the grass was still white-furred with frost, and the air was crisp and cold. Crowfeather found the heaviness of the night before vanishing as he focused on the training session. He had agreed to take Hootpaw along with his own apprentice, Featherpaw, since Hootpaw’s mentor, Gorsetail, was leading the patrol that climbed the moor daily to visit the pile of memorial stones. So far, the session was going much better than the last time Crowfeather had tried to train the apprentices together.

“Both of you try it,” Crowfeather meowed after he had demonstrated the move for a second time. “For now, just imagine your opponent.”

While he watched the two apprentices trying to copy what he had shown them, Crowfeather reflected that a major onslaught against the stoats couldn’t be far off. Breezepelt and Heathertail were still checking on the tunnels. I hope they’re all right. But Crowfeather knew that the rest of the Clan must be prepared for the next step. The apprentices wouldn’t be chosen for the first attack, but no cat knew what might happen after that.

I want them to be ready.

“That’s very good, Hootpaw,” Crowfeather meowed, pleasantly surprised at how quickly the young cat had picked up the new move. He balanced well on his hind paws, and there was real strength behind his blows. “Go on like that, and you’ll scare the fur off the stoats!”