Crowfeather's Trial

“Why would you do that?” he snapped. “You care enough to chase me, but not enough to speak up for me in front of Onestar? Well, thanks but no thanks.” He turned and began to continue on his way.

“Wait!” he heard Breezepelt call behind him — a brief, desperate cry. When he paused and turned around, Breezepelt was looking at the ground — but Heathertail spoke.

“We’re sorry we didn’t speak up for you, Crowfeather, but you made it pretty difficult. You may have been right — but a loyal warrior still respects his leader.”

Crowfeather let out a derisive snort, but didn’t move. All right, he thought, I’ll hear them out.

“After you left, we talked to Onestar,” Heathertail went on, casting a faintly exasperated glance over her shoulder at Breezepelt. “We wanted to give him time to cool down. He was hard on you, Crowfeather, but you gave it right back — telling him you don’t need WindClan. Did you really mean that?”

Now it was Crowfeather’s turn to stare at the ground, clawing at an imaginary bug as though he were fascinated. At the time I did, he thought. But perhaps it was a flea-brained thing to say.

Heathertail shook her head, seeming frustrated, and went on. “You’re not always the easiest cat to talk to, Crowfeather. Anyway, I think he’s sorry that he lost his temper with you. If you came back to camp tomorrow with some prey and apologized to him, I’m pretty sure he’d let you back into the Clan.”

“Really?” In his relief, Crowfeather looked at Breezepelt, who still wouldn’t meet his eye. What, does he not want me to come back? Maybe he thought he was free of me… “What do you think, Breezepelt?” he challenged his son. “Is Heathertail right?”

Breezepelt scuffled his forepaws like an apprentice caught misbehaving. “Uh… I guess,” he muttered.

“I guess”? The worst of Crowfeather’s suspicions confirmed, his fury exploded. “It’s obvious to see who doesn’t want me back!” he exclaimed. “You’ve barely said a thing this whole time. You’re just following the cat you love, trying to impress her with your loyalty to your foolish father!”

Breezepelt looked up at him, a stung expression in his eyes. He’s embarrassed I caught on, Crowfeather thought. “And there’s no way I’m apologizing. I was right! And you both know it.”

“Yes, sure, you were right.” Heathertail’s voice was soothing. “As I said. Most of the Clan thinks it’s a mouse-brained idea to block up the tunnels. But you still disrespected your Clan leader, in front of the rest of the Clan.”

“Onestar deserved it!” Crowfeather snarled. Glaring at Breezepelt, he added, “It’s better this way. I can have the freedom I’ve always wanted, and you can be free of me. I’m leaving, and WindClan will never have to worry about me again!”

The two younger cats stared at him in silence for a moment. At last Heathertail mewed quietly, “What about looking for Nightcloud?”

“You can look for Nightcloud,” Crowfeather retorted, trying to ignore the guilt that settled over him like a cloud of dust. “She won’t want to see me anyway.” That’s probably true, at least.

“Of all the mouse-brained—” Breezepelt began angrily.

Heathertail shook her head at him and silenced him with a touch of her tail-tip on his shoulder. “It’s no use, Breezepelt,” she murmured. “Not right now.” Fixing Crowfeather with a sorrowful blue gaze, she added, “I’m sure there’ll be a way back for you, Crowfeather, if you want to take it. I hope that you do.”

For a moment the young she-cat’s sympathy almost made Crowfeather give in. Then he pictured himself creeping back into the camp and groveling in front of Onestar. No way will I ever do that!

“You’d better go,” he meowed curtly. “You don’t want Onestar to find out you’re missing. He’s in a lousy mood.”

“Okay,” Heathertail sighed. “Come on, Breezepelt.”

For a couple of heartbeats Breezepelt gazed at Crowfeather hesitantly, as if there was something he wanted to say. Crowfeather guessed that a word would have encouraged him, but he felt as though his throat were stopped up by a tough bit of prey, and no words would come. Finally Breezepelt ducked his head awkwardly; then the two young cats turned away and headed across the moor, back to the rest of the Clan. Crowfeather watched them go.

Everything I said to them is true, he thought. I don’t need WindClan. I don’t even need my mouse-hearted son, Breezepelt, and I certainly don’t need that mange-pelt Onestar. I’ll show him! I can get along fine by myself.

But the hollowness, the pain of loss inside him, wouldn’t go away.