Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather realized that Breezepelt had padded up beside him. In the few days since his expedition into the tunnels, he had mostly recovered from his injuries, but Crowfeather felt that the fire inside him had gone out. He’s finally realized that his mother is gone forever.

Seeing the sadness in his son’s eyes, Crowfeather firmly stifled his annoyance that Breezepelt had interrupted his training session. He was determined not to start any more arguments with him.

“That’s right,” he agreed. “In a real battle, no unnecessary risks.”

Crowfeather was aware of Breezepelt standing beside him as the apprentices began practicing again. He hadn’t joined in the training session; instead he had limped along the edge of the practice area, his gait slow and careful, his tail trailing along the ground. Now they were standing so close that they must have seemed comfortable with each other, though Crowfeather knew that wasn’t true. He could hardly bring himself to look at his son and see his dull, lifeless eyes.

Crowfeather believed that most of the Clan was feeling sorry for Breezepelt, as he was. Then he spotted Leaftail and Gorsetail with their heads together a couple of tail-lengths away. Leaftail’s eyes sparkled with mockery.

“He’s supposed to be some scary Dark Forest warrior,” he whispered to Gorsetail. Clearly, he had been eavesdropping on Breezepelt’s advice to the apprentices to be careful. “Sounds more like a mouse-hearted cat to me.”

Crowfeather saw Breezepelt freeze as he overheard the snarky comment. His eyes lit with fury, as if he would have liked to fight both cats at the same time.

“It’s great that you have time to gossip,” Crowfeather hissed, glaring at Leaftail. “And that you’re not worried about these stoats that were foretold to destroy the whole Clan. Now shut up and get back to work.”

Leaftail opened his jaws as if he was going to make a rude retort, but Gorsetail gave him a nudge, and both cats bounded away. Crowfeather kept an eye on them until he saw them beginning to practice the leap-and-roll battle move.

“Ignore what they’re saying,” he mewed softly to Breezepelt. “They have no idea what you went through. They don’t know what a great warrior you can be.”

Breezepelt had a grim, determined look on his face. “Well, they’re going to find out,” he meowed. “I’m going to prove it in the battle today.”

Crowfeather was startled. “You’re not back to battle fitness yet!” he blurted out.

“Fox dung to that,” Breezepelt growled.

Crowfeather wanted to talk Breezepelt out of joining in the attack on the tunnels, but Breezepelt’s expression, the intense tone of his voice, told him there would be no point in trying.

At least this time I’ll be there to watch his back, Crowfeather thought. And this time I don’t intend to let him down.

Sunhigh was still some way off when the WindClan cats set out for the tunnels. Harespring was in the lead, with Crowfeather and Weaselfur, while the rest of the warriors streamed across the moor behind them. Breezepelt lagged at the rear, still limping from his injuries, but managing to keep up. Crowfeather had tried keeping an eye on him, until Breezepelt had realized it and fixed him with an irritated glare.

“Are you sure about this?” Crowfeather heard Heathertail asking Breezepelt, padding at his side.

“Yeah, you know how tough the stoats are,” Emberfoot added.

“I’m quite sure,” Breezepelt retorted through clenched teeth.

Before they set out, Heathertail had talked to the apprentices about what had happened in the tunnels, making it clear that the coming battle was beyond their skills. Crowfeather suspected that Breezepelt had asked her to do it. After her talk, the apprentices seemed to have gained new respect for the enemy their Clan was about to face.

“How big do you think they are?” Hootpaw had asked his denmates, fluffing up his fur to increase his own size. “As big as this?”

“Much bigger!” Slightpaw had responded, wide-eyed.

“And I bet they have really long claws and teeth,” Featherpaw had added. “Breezepelt was so brave to fight them all by himself.”

Crowfeather, listening with amusement to their speculations, had given a nod of approval. Finally!

Now, as the Clan came within sight of the steep bank where the tunnel entrances gaped open, Harespring called a halt and gathered his Clanmates around him.

“I’ll just remind you about what we’re going to do,” he began. “I’ll enter the tunnels with Heathertail and Weaselfur.”

Crowfeather shifted his paws impatiently. He had volunteered to join the group that was to go underground, but Harespring had assigned him to lead the ambush outside instead. At least he hasn’t chosen Breezepelt to go back in there. There had been anger in Breezepelt’s eyes when he learned he wouldn’t be at the forefront of the battle, but he remained beside Crowfeather without complaining.

“Larkwing and Gorsetail will put the rabbits in place,” Harespring continued. “We hope the scent of prey will lure the stoats out so we can fight them on our own ground.”

Yes, we know all this, Crowfeather thought. His claws tore at the grass in his impatience to sink them into stoats, turning their white fur red. Stop meowing and let’s get started.

“The rest of you, hide in the bushes.” Harespring waved his tail toward the gorse thicket, a few fox-lengths away from the tunnel entrances. “Any questions? No? Then let’s go!”

Harespring led the way into the tunnels with Heathertail and Weaselfur padding warily after him. Crowfeather watched while Larkwing and Gorsetail put two rabbits in position outside the entrances, dragging them over the grass to spread their scent. Then the two she-cats headed for the thicket where the rest of the Clan was hiding.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Moons seemed to pass before Harespring shot out of the nearest tunnel, with his two companions hard on his paws. They raced across the open ground and joined their Clanmates in the bushes.

“They’re coming,” Harespring mewed tensely.

Several heartbeats later a few stoats peeked their heads out of the tunnel, sniffing the air and darting their gazes around as if they expected trouble.

Come on, Crowfeather urged them silently. His legs were aching with the effort of holding back when all his instincts were to leap forward and fight. Don’t you want some of that nice juicy rabbit?

Then a voice spoke behind him. “ Those are the dangerous enemies in the tunnel that every cat’s warned us about?”

Slightpaw! Crowfeather whirled, tearing his pelt on the gorse spines. “What are you apprentices doing here?” he demanded.

All four apprentices were crouched in front of him, smug looks of satisfaction on their faces. His throat choked on mingled anger and fear, so that for a few heartbeats he couldn’t speak.

“You told us to be bold,” Featherpaw mewed, “so we’ve come to help fight.”

“Yeah, Harespring isn’t going to keep us away from all the excitement,” Hootpaw declared, sliding his claws out and scraping them along the ground.

“It doesn’t even look as if it’ll be that hard,” Oatpaw added as he peered out at the stoats. “They’re kind of . . . cute!”

“I can’t believe we were so scared!” Hootpaw exclaimed. “Come on, let’s get them!”

“No!” Crowfeather yowled. “Get back to camp!”

By now the stoats had emerged from the tunnels and were sniffing around the prey. Wild with enthusiasm, the apprentices ignored Crowfeather. With Hootpaw in the lead they thrust their way out of the bushes and hurled themselves at their enemies.