Crowfeather's Trial

Let’s hope we don’t find any stoats, Crowfeather thought as he took the lead away from the camp. But we will find something. I just hope that something is Nightcloud.

Surprising himself, he couldn’t stifle a pulse of excitement at the thought of seeing her again.

Chapter 22

Crowfeather led the way across the moor, guiding his patrol in a wide half circle to avoid the tunnels. “I don’t want to risk meeting the stoats,” he murmured. “They’ll be even more angry with WindClan after you blocked up the entrances.”

Even so, he couldn’t help feeling a prickling of tension in his pads as they passed by, remembering once again Kestrelflight’s vision. He saw dark water rush out, swelling and tossing until it could engulf all the Clans.

It’s so clear. It’s almost as though the vision were mine.

He shook his head to clear it of the fake memories.

But I still want to know what it means.

When they reached the stream that formed the border with ThunderClan, Crowfeather halted. “We could trek all the way around the forest,” he meowed, “and get to the Twolegplace that way. But it’s much farther than cutting across ThunderClan territory; we’d never do it, find Nightcloud, and get back to camp again before dawn.”

“If we find Nightcloud,” Gorsetail put in.

Breezepelt gave her a savage look and opened his jaws to speak, but Heathertail interrupted him with a touch of her tail on his shoulder. “We don’t want the Clan to miss us if we can possibly avoid it,” she pointed out. “If we don’t find Nightcloud, they never need to know we were gone, and if we do — well, Onestar will be so pleased that he won’t mind what we did.”

Gorsetail shrugged. “ThunderClan it is, then.”

Crowfeather gazed into the trees on the opposite side of the stream. “From now on, absolute silence,” he told the others. “We’ll be on another Clan’s territory, and it’s possible that some ThunderClan cats will be out and about. We really don’t want trouble with them right now.” He hesitated, then added, “Hootpaw, have you got that?”

Serious for once, the apprentice nodded vigorously.

“I’ve got an idea,” Heathertail meowed before Crowfeather could start looking for the best place to cross the stream. “Why don’t we roll ourselves in the ThunderClan scent markers? That way, if we do meet a ThunderClan patrol, we can hide and our scent won’t give us away.”

“That’s a brilliant plan!” Breezepelt exclaimed.

But Hootpaw let out an outraged squeak. “I don’t want that ThunderClan stink on my fur!”

Gorsetail gave her apprentice a cuff around the ear, her claws sheathed. “You’ll do as you’re told. We could still go back to camp.”

Hootpaw hunched his shoulders. “Sorry, Gorsetail.”

Crowfeather located a narrow part of the stream where it was easy for the cats to leap across. As he and his Clanmates rolled in the ThunderClan scent, he couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for Hootpaw. The markers were strong and fresh — clearly they had been renewed at sunset — and he winced as the stench sank into his pelt.

I don’t think I’ll ever smell like WindClan again! Instead the scent reminded him of Leafpool, and he gave his ears an irritated twitch, as if he were trying to get rid of a fly buzzing around him. I have to stop thinking about her!

When every cat was ready, Crowfeather headed into the trees with his Clanmates padding softly beside him. Beneath the trees the snow was not so thick, and they were able to pick up their pace. The forest floor was dappled with black and silver, a pattern that shifted as the branches moved gently overhead, rustling in the breeze. The prey-scents were muted; Crowfeather guessed that most creatures would be safe in their holes, though he thought it worthwhile to glance over his shoulder and whisper, “We take no prey, remember? This isn’t our hunting ground.”

“What do we do when we get to the Twolegplace?” Heathertail asked as the sound of the stream died away behind them. “It must be huge. How will we ever find Nightcloud?”

“How about we worry about that when we get there?” Gorsetail responded, an edge to her voice.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Crowfeather ignored the gray-and-white she-cat. “I’m going to start from the pool where I thought Nightcloud died. We might be able to pick up her scent there, and if we can, it will make our job a lot easier.”

“Good idea.”

The grunted response came from Breezepelt. Crowfeather could barely prevent his tail from sticking straight up in astonishment. Finally, I’ve done something right!