Crowfeather's Trial

Even if your Clan leader is being mouse-brained? Crowfeather knew that there was no point in speaking his thought out loud. This is what comes of making a Dark Forest cat deputy. Harespring was so desperate to prove his loyalty that he didn’t dare put a paw wrong. Instead of making Onestar think about his decisions — even if eventually he had to accept them — he was following where Onestar led without question.

“Just think about what I’ve said,” Crowfeather pleaded.

“There’s no need to think,” Harespring snapped. “Onestar has got this. I told you, everything will be all right.” He stalked off, calling to his apprentice.

Crowfeather felt even more uneasy, his pelt prickling from ears to tail-tip. He wondered whether Harespring was just trying to convince himself. He wondered too whether he had fully understood Ashfoot and Feathertail’s advice.

I’m not a medicine cat, he told himself. What if that was just a dream, and not a message from StarClan? Or what if I misinterpreted the message? He let out a growl of frustration. Now I have no idea how all this will end.

But Crowfeather couldn’t stifle the feeling that it would not end well.

Night had fallen, and Crowfeather was plumping up the bedding in his nest when Harespring came into the warriors’ den and padded over to him.

“Onestar wants you to escort Kestrelflight to the half-moon meeting,” he announced.

A jolt of surprise struck Crowfeather like the blow from an outstretched paw. “Onestar’s overreacting a little, isn’t he?” he asked. “Sending a warrior to escort a medicine cat? That’s just making a big deal of showing that he doesn’t trust ThunderClan. Okay, there’s some tension between us, but would any cat attack medicine cats?”

Harespring shrugged. “Probably not, but what can you do? That’s what Onestar wants.”

If you ask me, Crowfeather thought, Onestar just wants to get under ThunderClan’s fur. But he remembered Onestar’s warning. He couldn’t risk disobeying his Clan leader again, not after the disaster that had followed last time.

“That’s fine,” he responded to Harespring. “I’ll go find him now.”

Part of Crowfeather was pleased at the prospect of trekking up to the Moonpool with Kestrelflight; he and the medicine cat had always gotten along well. And it would be something to take his mind off Breezepelt and the stoats.

When he reached the medicine-cat den, Kestrelflight was waiting outside. He gave Crowfeather a friendly nod as he approached, and the two toms padded side by side up the slope and out of the camp.

“How is Featherpaw?” Crowfeather asked, feeling slightly guilty that he hadn’t been to see her since Bramblestar’s disastrous visit.

“Doing very well,” Kestrelflight replied cheerfully. “She’s still sleeping, but her breathing is much stronger, and her wounds are healing nicely. I’ve left Sedgewhisker with her while I’m at the Moonpool, but I’m not expecting any problems.”

“That’s good to hear.”

But the reassuring news about his apprentice wasn’t enough to distract Crowfeather from the hostile reaction he was likely to get from ThunderClan. “There’s going to be trouble behind this,” he murmured after a while. “You don’t need a warrior to escort you as if you were a kit. The other medicine cats won’t like it.”

“You mean Jayfeather won’t like it,” Kestrelflight meowed. “I wasn’t there when Bramblestar appeared with the other ThunderClan cats, but I heard all about it. I hate to say this about my Clan leader, but I think this time Onestar has it wrong.”

“Why?” Crowfeather asked, giving Kestrelflight a sharp look. “Have you had any more visions about the tunnels?”

Kestrelflight shook his head. “I’ve had some upsetting dreams,” he replied, “but I think they’re just dreams, not visions. Still, I’ll feel better when the stoats are driven from the tunnels.”

And that’s not going to happen without ThunderClan, Crowfeather thought.

For all his worries, it felt good to be padding across the moor, invigorated by the brisk wind blowing through his fur. The short springy grass was silvered by the light of the half-moon, with the stars blazing overhead in a clear sky. Crowfeather liked the idea that the warriors of StarClan were watching over them, caring for their Clans as they had when they were alive, sending their advice to the medicine cats through dreams and visions.

His pelt warmed as he remembered Feathertail, and the love for him that had shone from her eyes. Surely that was a true vision, and not just a dream?

“Tell me about your dreams,” he mewed curiously to Kestrelflight. “How do you know when they mean something, instead of just being nonsense?”