Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

Yawning and foggy from lack of sleep, Crowfeather’s first instinct was to look for Breezepelt. At last I have some good news to tell him! And if Nightcloud’s alive, we have to figure out why she hasn’t come back.

But as he headed for the warriors’ den, Crowfeather spotted a group of cats clustered around the medicine-cat den, and his ears pricked at the sound of their excited chatter. He exchanged a puzzled glance with Kestrelflight.

“That’s odd . . . ,” the medicine cat murmured. He bounded over to join their Clanmates, and Crowfeather followed.

“What’s going on?” he asked Whitetail.

The small white elder turned to him with gleaming eyes. “Featherpaw is awake!” she purred.

A huge wave of relief surged through Crowfeather. “That’s great news!” he exclaimed.

Kestrelflight had already vanished into his den. Crowfeather thrust his way through the crowd of cats until he came to the entrance. As he reached it, the medicine cat reappeared in the cleft, looking pleased and harassed at the same time.

“No, you can’t come in,” he meowed, speaking in general to all his Clanmates. “Featherpaw is going to be fine, but she needs rest and quiet. Go hunt, or kill a few stoats or something, but don’t hang around here.”

Crowfeather was about to withdraw again, then halted as Kestrelflight spotted him and beckoned him with a wave of his tail. “You can come in, Crowfeather,” he mewed. “She wants to see you.”

Crowfeather was aware of one or two disapproving hisses as he slipped into the den behind Kestrelflight, but he ignored them. He felt too happy to start a quarrel with any Clanmate. I got Featherpaw into this mess, and she still wants to see me!

Sedgewhisker and Emberfoot were crouching beside the apprentice’s nest, relief and excitement in their eyes. They rose to their paws as Kestrelflight entered, leading Crowfeather. Sedgewhisker bent her head over her daughter and murmured, “We’ll fetch you some fresh-kill and a nice clump of wet moss.” She and Emberfoot slipped past Crowfeather; to his relief, they didn’t notice him as he drew back into the shadows beside the den wall.

When they had left, Crowfeather padded forward to see Featherpaw lying in her nest of moss and bracken; she raised her head and blinked sleepily at Crowfeather as he approached.

“Featherpaw, I’m so sorry I put you in danger,” Crowfeather mewed, crouching down beside her.

His apprentice’s eyes stretched wider at his words. “But you didn’t!” she protested. “I don’t remember much of what happened, but I know it wasn’t your fault. Hootpaw and I and the others decided we wanted to be in the battle. You didn’t force us to do anything.”

“But I’m your mentor. I shouldn’t have told you to be so aggressive. I put you in danger, and—”

“No,” Featherpaw interrupted. “That was just advice, and it was good advice. The other apprentices and I made the choice to join in the battle. We were angry at being left out, and when we got there, we thought the stoats didn’t look so threatening—but we were wrong. You’re the best mentor in all the Clans!”

I wish that were true, Crowfeather thought. “I’m just glad you’re going to be okay,” he mewed huskily, touching his nose to hers.

Featherpaw closed her eyes and let out a drowsy sigh. “I’ll be fine.”

Crowfeather crept quietly away; as he left the den, he came face to face with Sedgewhisker and Emberfoot returning. Sedgewhisker was carrying a plump mouse, while Emberfoot had a bundle of dripping moss.

Feeling awkward, Crowfeather stepped back, but this time there was no avoiding them in the narrow opening. He braced himself for Featherpaw’s parents to blame him again for her injuries. Then he realized that they looked just as uncomfortable, clearly finding it hard to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Crowfeather,” Sedgewhisker mewed, setting down her prey. “We were too hard on you before.”

“I deserved it,” Crowfeather responded with a dip of his head. “Part of it, at least.”

“No cat could have deserved what we said to you,” Sedgewhisker insisted. “It’s just that she’s our kit, and we were so worried. . . .”

“I understand,” Crowfeather reassured her. “I care about her, and I’m just her mentor. I can only imagine how you felt.” As he spoke, he saw the deep concern and caring in the eyes of Featherpaw’s parents, and realized again how long he had withheld that from his own son.

A bright image flashed into his mind, of Breezepelt bumbling around the camp as a kit, falling over his own paws and chasing his tail. He had been so lovable, so vulnerable, and Crowfeather remembered how intensely he had wanted to protect him. But he had held back from loving him as a father should. I was afraid to love any cat.

Emberfoot’s voice drew him out of the memory. “I know you do your best to train Featherpaw,” the gray tom was meowing, speaking with difficulty around his mouthful of wet moss. “If you could just . . . in the future . . . be a bit more careful?”

Crowfeather felt a twinge of annoyance. I tried to be careful! And apprentices have to learn. But he remembered in time that Emberfoot was a father who had just nearly lost his kit. He could understand that, after his fear for Lionblaze in the Great Battle, or for Breezepelt wounded by the stoats. He responded in a heartfelt tone, “I would never want any more harm to come to Featherpaw. From now on, I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

Emberfoot gave him an approving nod, and the two cats headed into the den to see their daughter.

Turning away, Crowfeather spotted Breezepelt with Weaselfur and Larkwing, padding over to the fresh-kill pile, their jaws loaded with prey. At last! Crowfeather thought. I can’t wait to see Breezepelt’s face when I tell him about Nightcloud!

He waited until the other two warriors had moved away before joining Breezepelt and beckoning him over to a quiet corner behind the nursery.

“What now?” Breezepelt asked, sounding surprised.

Crowfeather took a deep breath, remembering what Kestrelflight had told him the night before. He hoped Breezepelt wouldn’t get his hopes up too much, imagining that they would discover where Nightcloud went and bring her home: It would crush him so badly if his mother turned out to be dead after all.

“You know I went with Kestrelflight to the Moonpool last night?” he meowed. Breezepelt nodded. “Kestrelflight said that he would look for Nightcloud in StarClan, and . . . she isn’t there. That could mean she’s alive!”

Breezepelt took in a sharp, gasping breath, but for a moment he didn’t say anything. Crowfeather couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I truly thought she was gone,” he explained, assuming his son would be angry that he hadn’t searched harder. “I’m sorry . . . I’m still not entirely sure what it means, but I didn’t mean to make you grieve unnecessarily.”

Breezepelt shook his head, and Crowfeather realized that he was more confused than angry. “No . . . that’s okay.” He met his father’s gaze, and Crowfeather saw hope begin to creep into his eyes. “I’m just glad we might still find her. This isn’t about us, Crowfeather. It’s about saving Nightcloud.”

Crowfeather nodded, impressed by his son’s mature reaction. “I’ve been thinking about it, and if she’s alive,” he began, “there has to be some reason she isn’t coming back to us. She’s the most loyal WindClan cat there ever was. Suppose she’s trapped, or in danger? We need to start searching for her again, together.”

Breezepelt licked one forepaw thoughtfully and drew it over his ear. “We had a hard enough time looking for her before. Where do you suggest we start?”