Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

“I agree. Onestar should just exile the Dark Forest cats. I mean, I know they swore an oath of loyalty, but they’ve broken oaths before. Why take the chance and keep them around?”

Crowfeather started at the sound of Featherpaw’s voice just behind him. He hadn’t realized that she had been close enough to overhear what Weaselfur and Leaftail had been saying. He was shocked that the rumors were spreading among the impressionable apprentices; it was bad enough that the warriors were saying such things.

Before Crowfeather could speak, the reply came from Gorsetail, who padded up with Hootpaw at her side. “Because we are one Clan,” she growled, “and we forgive our Clanmates—even when they’ve made terrible mistakes. Now let’s get on with this hunt. Larkwing is going to join us, too.”

Crowfeather shot a grateful look at Gorsetail as together they chivvied the apprentices away from Weaselfur and Leaftail and up the slope to the edge of the camp, where Larkwing was waiting. He was glad to see that Gorsetail had chosen her; it seemed as if the gray-and-white she-cat had changed her mind about the Dark Forest cats—or most of them, at least. Maybe the responsibility of being a mentor again would do her good.

Hootpaw and Featherpaw were padding along side by side. Crowfeather could see their fur bristling with excitement at the thought of hunting, and was glad that Hootpaw had something to distract him from missing his mentor.

But it won’t last long, for either of us, he thought sadly. Tonight they would sit vigil for Nightcloud, and there would be nothing left to do but face their grief.

The sun had gone down, though a few streaks of daylight still stained the sky. Above the moor the first warriors of StarClan had begun to appear. Crowfeather raised his head and gazed up at them.

Are you looking down at us, Nightcloud? Or are you still searching for the path that leads to StarClan?

Cats padded past him where he stood at the edge of the warriors’ den, making for the center of the camp. Onestar was already there, waiting to begin the vigil for Nightcloud.

Crowfeather glanced toward the dark shape of Breezepelt curled up in his nest. To Crowfeather’s relief he hadn’t made another attempt to head for the tunnels to attack the stoats. Crowfeather felt that he should try to talk to him, but he didn’t know how.

Hesitantly, Crowfeather slipped between the empty nests of other warriors until he reached Breezepelt’s side. His son was awake, but he didn’t get up as Crowfeather approached, only looked up at him with dull, incurious eyes.

“Do you want to walk over to the vigil with me?” Crowfeather asked, half expecting Breezepelt to snap at him and say he didn’t need an escort as if he was an apprentice.

But Breezepelt’s actual response surprised his father even more. “No. I don’t need an escort, because I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

Breezepelt’s claws extended briefly, and he growled through clenched teeth. “None of these cats trust me.” His voice was bitter. “I’ve heard them whispering about what I might have done to Nightcloud.”

So the rumors have reached Breezepelt, Crowfeather thought, swallowing his fury as if it were a tough piece of fresh-kill.

“Not every cat,” he meowed, remembering that several of his Clanmates had protested at Weaselfur’s accusations. “Heathertail stood up for you.”

A pleased, grateful expression flickered across Breezepelt’s face. “She did? Really?”

“Really. And I know it’s hard to hear your Clanmates spread rumors, Breezepelt, but the best thing you can do is hold your head high. You and I both know you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Breezepelt blinked up at him, as if he was surprised at his father’s sympathy and support. For a moment Crowfeather thought he might rise to his paws and accompany him to the vigil. Then Breezepelt let out a long sigh. “I’m still not going. I just . . . can’t.”

“Okay. I understand,” Crowfeather responded, though he wasn’t sure he really did. And a small part of him worried that Breezepelt’s absence would give more fuel for gossip. Cats like Weaselfur would assume the worst: that Breezepelt wouldn’t go to Nightcloud’s vigil because of guilt over her death.

Well, so be it. Those flea-pelts can think what they want. I won’t force Breezepelt if he doesn’t feel ready to face the Clan and the vigil. The Clan will just have to get over it.

“I’ll speak for you,” Crowfeather continued to Breezepelt. “I’ll tell every cat how much you loved her—and what a good mother she was to you.”

“Thank you,” Breezepelt mewed. He closed his eyes, laid his head on his paws, and wrapped his tail over his nose as if he was trying to shut out the world.

Crowfeather briefly touched his nose to Breezepelt’s forehead, then turned and headed for the center of the camp, where his Clanmates were already gathered in a ragged circle around Onestar. The empty space beside the Clan leader, where Nightcloud’s body should have lain, was like a yawning gap at the heart of the Clan.

Onestar dipped his head solemnly to Crowfeather as he took his place, acknowledging his arrival. Crowfeather caught some furtive looks from the other cats, and he could hear them whispering among themselves. Some of them seemed angry, while others simply looked wary, as if they found it hard to meet his gaze. He realized they had been waiting for him to arrive before they could begin.

Well, tough. Checking on Breezepelt was important.

For a moment Onestar still hesitated, perhaps expecting Breezepelt to arrive. He shot a questioning look at Crowfeather, as if asking whether they should wait. Crowfeather shook his head, trying not to let his frustration and disappointment show.

Onestar took a breath and began to speak. “Nightcloud was a strong warrior, and an important part of WindClan,” he meowed. “She will be truly missed by every cat.”

That’s true, Crowfeather thought. He knew he missed Nightcloud as the mother of his son, and he was worried about how her death was affecting Breezepelt. But now he realized that he felt more than that. He would miss Nightcloud as a friend, too. He knew he hadn’t treated her well when she was alive, but he had always thought he would have the chance to work it out later.

I guess it’s too late for that now.

Crowfeather listened in silence while other cats spoke about Nightcloud and how much she meant to them all.

“She’s one of the bravest cats in the Clan.”

“And a great hunter. No rabbit can—I mean could—outrun her!”

Crowfeather noticed that some of them were finding it hard to refer to her as if she was really gone. They’re having trouble paying tribute to her heroic death when no cat knows exactly how she died.

“She showed her courage when she went into the tunnels to attack the stoats,” Crouchfoot declared. “And when she was abandoned there—”

Abandoned?

“Hold on. Stop,” Crowfeather interrupted. Were some of his Clanmates really about to use the vigil to attack Breezepelt? He wouldn’t have it. He hadn’t planned to challenge any cat at Nightcloud’s vigil, but now that Crouchfoot had brought it up, he couldn’t just keep silent. That would make it seem as if he agreed. It’s time to bring this into the open—especially now, while Breezepelt isn’t here.

“Are you accusing Breezepelt of something?” he demanded.

“If we are, we have good reason,” Crouchfoot replied. “Why would Breezepelt leave the tunnel without his mother? How could he have left her behind?”

“Yes, no warrior would do that,” Leaftail added. “Unless Breezepelt had something to do with her disappearance.”