Crowfeather's Trial

Kestrelflight’s tail curled up in amusement. “I suppose it’s part of being a medicine cat,” he answered. “But usually I just… know. I can feel it.”

For a moment Crowfeather was silent, thinking that over. Then he continued, “I’m not a medicine cat, so all the dreams I have are just nonsense… right?”

“Not necessarily,” Kestrelflight replied. “Dreams can tell us things, whether they’re a message from StarClan or not — perhaps things we’re trying to tell ourselves.”

Crowfeather shook his head, more confused than ever. For a while the two cats plodded on side by side, reaching the stream and following it up into the hills where the Moonpool lay. To Crowfeather’s relief, there was no sign so far of any of the other medicine cats.

“Tell me something, Kestrelflight,” he mewed at last. “Have you ever seen Ashfoot in StarClan?”

The medicine cat shook his head apologetically. “No, not yet,” he replied. “But we lost so many cats in the Great Battle. It doesn’t mean anything. I just haven’t seen them all.”

You haven’t seen her because she isn’t there yet, Crowfeather thought, remembering what his mother had told him. Which means it’s true… she stayed behind to visit me in dreams. He swallowed hard. Doesn’t that imply they mean something after all?

“I’m really sorry about Nightcloud,” Kestrelflight went on after a few heartbeats. “It must be terrible, not knowing what happened to her.”

Crowfeather nodded. He didn’t really want to talk about his former mate, but he was encouraged by Kestrelflight’s sympathetic look. He knew that the young medicine cat would listen without judging him. “It wasn’t right, our being mates,” he meowed hesitantly. “But I always assumed we’d have time to work out our problems and become friends. Now that can never happen.”

Kestrelflight let out an understanding murmur. “I hear that some of our Clanmates suspect that Breezepelt had something to do with Nightcloud’s death,” he mewed hesitantly.

Fury surged through Crowfeather and he lashed his tail. “No way is that true!”

“I don’t believe it for a heartbeat,” Kestrelflight assured him. “Breezepelt loved Nightcloud.”

Crowfeather nodded, his rage dying at Kestrelflight’s understanding. “More than any cat,” he responded.

A comfortable silence fell as the two cats padded on together, farther into the hills. The slope was growing steeper, and the stream they followed was narrower, its water turned to silver as it leaped from rock to rock. Its gentle gushing was the only sound except for the soft pad of the cats’ paw steps.

“I had an idea,” Kestrelflight went on after a while. “Do you remember, before the Great Battle, Dawnpelt of ShadowClan accused Jayfeather of murdering her brother Flametail?”

“Yes, of course,” Crowfeather replied, wondering why Kestrelflight was bringing that up now.

“Jayfeather found Flametail in StarClan,” Kestrelflight meowed, “and got him to tell the other medicine cats that Jayfeather was innocent.”

Suddenly understanding, Crowfeather halted and gazed wide-eyed at Kestrelflight. “Yes…,” he breathed out.

“So tonight, when I dream my way into StarClan, I’m going to look for Nightcloud. If I find her, I’ll ask her to tell the others what really happened to her, and that Breezepelt had nothing to do with it.”

“Are you sure that will work?” Crowfeather asked. “Some cats are so determined to believe Breezepelt is guilty, Nightcloud herself could appear to all of them to tell them the truth, and they’d still have doubts,” he finished harshly, remembering how unfairly some of his Clanmates had treated Breezepelt. I treated him unfairly, too.

“Of course.” Kestrelflight twitched his whiskers. “The Great Battle has made life hard for all of us, and we all recover in our own way. Different cats make up different stories to explain what happened. But Breezepelt is still among us, and he wants to be a loyal WindClan cat, so his name must be cleared.” His eyes narrowed. “No WindClan cat will accuse me of lying — or at least they’d better not.”

“Thank you,” Crowfeather responded, impressed by the discovery of the young medicine cat’s more formidable side, and beginning to feel hopeful. It was reassuring, too, that another cat could feel the same way he did, and wanted to help. Maybe I have one friend, at least. And maybe for once we can take some good news back to our Clan.

When Crowfeather and Kestrelflight reached the last rocky slope up to the Moonpool, the other medicine cats were just ahead of them. As he scrambled up the rocks, Crowfeather was acutely conscious of the group of them staring down at him.