Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather spun around to see dogs pouring out of a hole in the entrance to the Twoleg den. At first sight, there seemed to be a whole Clan of them, but he quickly realized there were only five. Before any of the cats could react, they were surrounded and herded into a corner between the den and the fence.

Bushing out his fur to make himself as big as possible, Crowfeather arched his back and hissed at the dogs. “Back off, flea-pelts!”

The dogs were bounding around, their ears flopping and their tongues lolling. They kept making little rushes at the cats, trying to chew their necks and legs, and swatting at them with their huge paws.

“I think they’re playing,” Heathertail meowed. “They’re only kits — dog kits!”

“Kits?” Breezepelt echoed, disbelieving. “Look at the size of them!”

“I don’t care if they are kits,” Gorsetail snapped, pressing herself back against the fence to avoid a huge tongue swiping across her muzzle. “I’ll claw their ears off if they don’t stop!”

“No, don’t hurt them,” Heathertail protested. “Climb the fence. I’ll hold them off.”

Breezepelt instantly stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. “I’m not leaving you.”

Heathertail gave him a shove. “Go on, mouse-brain. I’ll be fine.”

Crowfeather could see that Breezepelt was determined not to move. “I think she’s right,” he meowed. “Come on. We can jump down again if she gets into trouble.”

Muttering something under his breath, Breezepelt obeyed. Gorsetail and Hootpaw had already scrambled up the fence and were balancing precariously on the top. Breezepelt joined them, and Crowfeather followed.

Meanwhile Heathertail was bounding to and fro, weaving in front of the dog kits and dodging their pummeling paws. As soon as she saw that her Clanmates were safe, she lashed out with one forepaw, swatting the leading dog kit on the nose.

The dog kit sprang backward; its yapping changed to a high-pitched squeal. The other dog kits’ playful yaps became angry, and they advanced, growling, on Heathertail.

But Heathertail was too quick for them. She scrambled up the fence to join the others before any of the dog kits could reach her. At the same moment, the entrance to the den flew open. A Twoleg stood in the gap, yowling furiously.

Crowfeather didn’t wait to see what happened next. “Come on,” he urged the others, leading the way along the top of the fence until they had put a couple of gardens between them and the pack of dog kits.

“Now what do we do?” Gorsetail asked. “We’ve lost Nightcloud’s trail, and I’m not going back there again.”

Breezepelt opened his jaws for a sharp retort, then clearly thought better of it and closed them again, looking miserable.

“Let’s check in this garden,” Crowfeather suggested, reluctant to give up hope. “This is the direction Nightcloud was going. We might pick up her trail again.”

He jumped down from the fence and the rest of the cats followed him. But though they searched the garden from one side to the other, there was no sign of Nightcloud’s scent.

We’ll have to go back, Crowfeather thought. Maybe the Twoleg will have taken the dog kits inside.

But before he could make the suggestion, Heathertail padded up to him and tapped him on the shoulder with one paw. “Look,” she mewed, pointing upward with her tail.

Crowfeather raised his head to look where she was pointing. On a ledge a few tail-lengths up the den wall, two kittypets were sleeping. One was a plump tortoiseshell with a rumpled pelt, while the other was a black tom with a white front and paws.

“Kittypets,” he muttered. “So?”

“They might have seen Nightcloud!”

Crowfeather realized that Heathertail was right. I’m so tired, I’m getting stupid! Without hesitating he leaped up onto the ledge and prodded the plump tortoiseshell in her side. “Hey, kittypet! Wake up.”

The tortoiseshell’s eyes blinked open, and she fixed an unfriendly gaze on Crowfeather. “Whoever you are, shove off. I’m sleeping,” she responded. Her nose wrinkled as if she didn’t like Crowfeather’s unfamiliar scent.

Crowfeather prodded again, harder. “Not anymore. We need to talk.”

By now the black tom was awake too. “Who are you, and what do you want?” he asked irritably. “Don’t you know it’s very rude to wake up a sleeping cat?”

Before Crowfeather could reply, Heathertail called up from the garden. “Sorry for disturbing you, but we need your help.” To Crowfeather she added, “Politeness costs nothing,” and then in a lower voice, just loud enough for him to hear, “You daft furball!” What about politeness to your former mentor? he thought.