Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

“It’s okay,” Weaselfur responded, his lack of anger surprising Crowfeather. “You had your reasons, after everything I said about your son. But when I saw how brave he was, going after those stoats, I knew there was no way he could have had anything to do with Nightcloud’s death. I’m sorry I said that.”

Crowfeather felt even more awkward, giving his shoulder an embarrassed lick. “You should apologize to Breezepelt when he wakes up,” he mewed.

Weaselfur nodded. “I’ll do that. I’m still not entirely sure Onestar should have let Breezepelt back into the Clan after the Great Battle, but—about this—I can give him the benefit of the doubt. He really did fight for us today.”

Crowfeather was disappointed to hear that Weaselfur still did not entirely trust his son. But at least he’s willing to give Breezepelt a chance, Crowfeather thought. That’s a start.

“Thanks for bringing him home,” he meowed.

“It was the least I could do,” Weaselfur responded, then headed off toward the warriors’ den with a nod of farewell.

Crowfeather stepped back while Kestrelflight chewed horsetail into a poultice and plastered it over Breezepelt’s wound, fastening it in place with a thick wad of cobweb.

“That should help,” the medicine cat mewed, gazing thoughtfully down at Breezepelt. “At least the bleeding seems to have stopped. Can you watch him for a while? I need to report to Onestar.”

When Kestrelflight was gone, Crowfeather settled down beside Breezepelt, listening to his labored breathing. He could smell the tang of dried blood still matted in his son’s fur. For a few moments he felt as if he were back beside the sun-drown-water and a huge wave was crashing over him, overwhelming him with its power.

But it wasn’t a wave that was doing this to Crowfeather. It was seeing Breezepelt injured, and knowing that Nightcloud was already dead.

Crowfeather leaned toward him, but before he could get close enough to whisper in his ear, Breezepelt’s eyelids slowly eased open. Crowfeather felt a rush of relief that he had regained consciousness, but when he looked into his son’s eyes, all he could see was pain.

Breezepelt blinked a few times, then focused his gaze on Crowfeather. “I killed the stoat, and Nightcloud is still dead,” he whispered miserably. Crowfeather’s heart almost broke with sadness as his son added, “I should never have left her in the tunnels in the first place.”

“Don’t talk now,” Crowfeather told him gently. “You need to rest. I’m sorry about what you’ve been through, but we will avenge your mother, I promise you.” When Breezepelt looked unconvinced, he added, “If there’s a battle ahead, WindClan will need a warrior as bold and strong as you.”

Breezepelt’s eyes widened, and he fixed Crowfeather with an incredulous amber gaze. He remained silent, but that look seemed to be asking, Is it really my father, Crowfeather, telling me this?

Crowfeather cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I’ll fetch you some prey to help you regain your strength,” he meowed. “I’ll be right back.”

Outside the medicine-cat den, Crowfeather found Heathertail hovering with Featherpaw and Hootpaw.

“How is Breezepelt?” Heathertail asked anxiously.

“He’s awake,” Crowfeather replied, seeing Heathertail’s blue eyes grow brilliant with relief. “But he needs to rest. In the meantime, all the Clan should get ready.”

“Ready for what?” Hootpaw asked, flicking his tail straight up in the air.

“To fight,” Crowfeather meowed.

CHAPTER 14

“Certainly not,” Harespring meowed, with a stern look at all four apprentices. “Onestar has ordered that no apprentices are going to be in the battle with the stoats.”

“But WindClan needs every cat!” Hootpaw protested, looking up at the Clan deputy with pleading eyes.

“WindClan needs every warrior ,” Harespring corrected him.

“Not fair,” Slightpaw muttered.

Crowfeather gave an irritated twitch of his whiskers. They were already wasting valuable practice time while the apprentices argued that they should be allowed to take part in the battle.

“We could let them join in the training,” he suggested to Harespring. Maybe that will shut them up. “After all, it’s possible the stoats will attack the camp. The apprentices should be able to defend themselves and the elders, and any cats who might be in the medicine cat den.”

Featherpaw bounced gently on her paws with a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Oh, yes, please , Harespring!”

The Clan deputy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose it won’t do any harm,” he decided. “You can be responsible for them, Crowfeather.”

Thanks a bunch.

But Crowfeather had to admit to himself that he didn’t mind working with the apprentices. They were all shaping up to be fine warriors. Especially Hootpaw, he thought as he paired them up to practice the battle move he had taught Hootpaw and Featherpaw a few days before. Nightcloud taught him well, Crowfeather thought, with a renewed pang at how much he missed her, and now Gorsetail is doing a good job, too. She’ll have an easier time because Nightcloud started Hootpaw off so well.

Thinking about Hootpaw made Crowfeather pay more attention to his own apprentice. Featherpaw had learned the move well; she had good balance while she stood on her hind paws and attacked her opponent with her forepaws. But she was slightly hesitant, as if she was afraid of hurting her Clanmate, while the rest of the apprentices piled in enthusiastically.

“Be bold!” Crowfeather advised her. “And strike out faster. In a real battle, your enemy won’t wait for you.”

Featherpaw nodded vigorously, then returned to her practice with Oatpaw. Crowfeather watched with approval as she put more speed and strength into her blows, knocking Oatpaw to the ground and then leaping on top of him with a yowl of triumph.

“Well done!” Crowfeather praised her.

Almost the whole of WindClan had assembled on a flat stretch of moorland near the camp, for a training session to prepare for battle. Using the information Breezepelt, Heathertail, and Weaselfur had brought back, Onestar and Harespring had made a plan: Some cats were to go into the tunnels and drive the stoats toward the entrances, while others would wait in ambush to attack when the stoats appeared. Prey would be left near the entrances to lure the stoats into the open.

It should work, Crowfeather thought. And maybe we’ll be able to get rid of these StarClan-cursed creatures for good!

“Okay,” Crowfeather meowed to the apprentices when they had all practiced the move for some time, “you’ve gotten in a couple of good blows, you’ve darted back out of range, so what are you going to do now? Sit and sniff the flowers?”

“Attack again!” Hootpaw yowled, while Featherpaw curled her tail up in amusement.

“Right,” Crowfeather responded. “But your enemy won’t be sniffing the flowers, either. They’ll be coming for you, so you need to do something unexpected. Any ideas?”

“Claw their throat out!” Slightpaw snarled, raising one forepaw with claws extended.

“You could try,” Crowfeather agreed, privately reflecting that it wasn’t as easy as that. “Anything else?”

“Attack from behind?” Featherpaw suggested.

“Good idea,” Crowfeather responded, pleased by his apprentice’s intelligence. “Let’s try that. Practice the first move, then follow it up by attacking your opponent’s hindquarters. And remember, Featherpaw, be bold!”

“But remember too how dangerous your enemy is.” Breezepelt’s voice came from just behind Crowfeather. “You need to be careful.”