Crowfeather's Trial

Heathertail gave a swift nod. “Emberfoot might not be back yet, but I saw Sedgewhisker just now. I’ll go get her.” She disappeared, and her hurrying paw steps faded away.

Kestrelflight was chewing up marigold leaves for a poultice when both Emberfoot and Sedgewhisker arrived, their eyes full of anxiety. Crowfeather could taste their fear-scent.

“How did Featherpaw get hurt?” Emberfoot demanded, while Sedgewhisker crouched down beside her unconscious kit and began to lick her ears. “She wasn’t supposed to be in the battle!”

“She and the other apprentices followed us and joined in without permission,” Crowfeather explained.

Emberfoot and Sedgewhisker exchanged a shocked glance. “It must have been those others, encouraging her!” Sedgewhisker meowed. “Featherpaw would never have done such a thing by herself.”

“So what happened?” Emberfoot demanded.

“Featherpaw was ambushed by a group of stoats,” Crowfeather replied, “and that’s how she was injured.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, and her paw is broken,” Kestrelflight added.

“But she will be all right?” Sedgewhisker asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Kestrelflight hesitated. “I can’t be certain,” he admitted at last. “I’ll set her paw and treat the wound on her back, but we’ll have to wait until she wakes up to know for sure if she’ll recover.”

Emberfoot and Sedgewhisker exchanged a glance of mingled grief and fury. Crouching down beside her kit, Sedgewhisker began to lick the clotted blood from Featherpaw’s fur, while Emberfoot stroked her shoulder with the tip of his tail.

“You’re her mentor, Crowfeather,” he snarled. “You should have made sure that she didn’t end up on such a dangerous mission!”

“The apprentices were ordered not to take part in the battle,” Crowfeather insisted, seeing Breezepelt looking at him uncertainly. “But I did tell her to be bold,” he admitted, feeling his throat tighten with guilt. “I suppose she took it the wrong way. She’s so brave… she already has all the makings of a warrior. When I said to be bold, I never meant for her to join in battles far too dangerous for an apprentice.”

“So it was you who gave her the idea to do this?” Emberfoot’s shoulder fur began to bristle, and his voice was a deep, threatening growl. “Why? She’s just an apprentice!”

“I wanted to inspire her,” Crowfeather replied, “but—”

“What’s wrong with you lately?” Sedgewhisker interrupted. “Ever since the Great Battle, it’s like you’re barely here! I know you’ve suffered some losses, but still… if it weren’t for you, Featherpaw wouldn’t be lying here now, and we don’t even know if she’ll survive!”

Crowfeather wanted to tell the distraught cats that it was a mentor’s job to inspire their apprentice, and that Featherpaw would still be fine if she had done what Harespring had told her and stayed in camp. But he knew what their reaction would be, and it wasn’t an outpouring of understanding. Even Hootpaw, who had slipped inside and was sitting next to Featherpaw, couldn’t meet Crowfeather’s gaze.

Does he blame me as well? Crowfeather asked himself, heat rising beneath his pelt. If he does, he’s right to. They all are. Onestar, too, when he told me why he didn’t choose me as deputy. I have been barely here lately. And it’s cost WindClan so much.

“I’m so sorry,” he meowed to Sedgewhisker and Emberfoot. “I feel terrible about this. I know I haven’t been the greatest of mentors.” Just like I haven’t been the best of fathers.

“I wish I could disagree,” Emberfoot meowed coldly. “I used to trust you completely, Crowfeather. I was pleased when Onestar chose you to mentor Featherpaw. But now — now I wonder if your carelessness contributed to Breezepelt’s foolishness. I thought his problems were being overblown by some cats, but now I look at you differently. I’m not sure either of us will ever trust you again. You could’ve gotten Featherpaw killed!”

Crowfeather met Breezepelt’s gaze, unsure of what he was hoping to find there. Support? Maybe sympathy? Or does he agree with the others? He’s never been shy about letting me know how frustrated he is with me.

But Breezepelt showed nothing of what he was thinking, lowering his head to look at the ground while he scuffled his forepaws on the earth floor of the den.

“My den isn’t the right place for this argument,” Kestrelflight declared. While the others had been talking, he had poulticed the wound on Featherpaw’s back and plastered cobweb all over it to hold the herbs in place. “I want you all to leave and give Featherpaw some peace and quiet.”

“No — I want to stay with her!” Sedgewhisker objected.