Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather curled up in the shelter of the overhang. He was half afraid to sleep, remembering his dreadful vision of the Dark Forest cats. But he was too exhausted to fight off unconsciousness, and he was drowsing when the warm, delicious scent of rabbit drifted into his nose. He opened his eyes to see Yew dropping the limp body in front of him.

“Come on, there’s enough for both of us,” he mewed.

Crowfeather didn’t need telling twice. Hungrily he tore at the fresh-kill, savoring the juices and the rich taste of the flesh. This is the best prey I’ve ever eaten! he thought. “Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” he mumbled around a huge mouthful. “And thank you, too, Yew.”

“My pleasure.” Yew gulped down a few mouthfuls of the rabbit and continued, “You know, I came across another cat with the same scent as yours, a half-moon or so ago.”

“You did?” Crowfeather felt his heart begin beating faster. “Where? What was she like?”

Yew gave him a long look through narrowed eyes. “It sounds like you might know her,” he remarked. “She was a black she-cat—a pretty tough one, too.”

Nightcloud! Crowfeather’s chest felt like it would burst. Could she really be alive? “Was she okay?” he asked eagerly.

“No, she had a bad wound down one side,” Yew told him. “But she wasn’t letting it slow her down. She was quite ready to claw my fur off before I finally convinced her I meant her no harm.” He paused, then added, “She’s a friend of yours?”

“She’s one of my Clan,” Crowfeather replied, not wanting to launch into an explanation of his complicated relationship with Nightcloud. “We were afraid she was dead. Where did you meet her?”

“On the edge of the Twolegplace.”

That reply made no sense to Crowfeather. The only Twolegplace he knew was the one between ShadowClan and RiverClan. He couldn’t imagine why Nightcloud would have gone there. “Across the lake?” he asked.

Yew shook his head, giving Crowfeather the sort of look that Crowfeather himself might have given to a dim apprentice. “No, the one on the other side of the forest.”

Crowfeather blinked, bewildered. “I don’t know that one.”

“I’ll show you.” Yew lumbered to his paws. “Can you climb the rock?”

Crowfeather wasn’t at all sure. His head was still spinning as he rose, but Yew was already climbing upward, nimble for all his bulk. Crowfeather gritted his teeth and followed. To his relief, there were plenty of crevices in the rock where he could wedge his paws, and he managed to haul himself to the top. Yew bent his head and fastened his teeth in his scruff to drag him up the last tail-length.

“Over there,” Yew meowed, pointing with his tail.

Crowfeather looked out across the snow-covered landscape. The forest was a dark mass far below, and beyond it he could make out a stretch of uneven ground, which he realized was the Twolegplace Yew had spoken of, snow covering the pointed roofs of the Twoleg dens until they looked like small, steep hills. It was bigger than the one Crowfeather knew, beside the lake. A Thunderpath curved around it like a black snake, with monsters like tiny bright beetles moving to and fro along it.

“I’d been down there visiting my housefolk,” Yew began. “I—”

“You’re a kittypet ?” Crowfeather interrupted. This tough, competent cat is a kittypet ? “I don’t believe it!”

A purr of amusement rumbled in Yew’s chest. “Well, I drop in on my housefolk now and again,” he responded. “When I feel like it. It’s warm and comfortable there, but it’s pretty boring, and the food is disgusting. So, when I’ve had enough of it, I leave and go exploring. That’s when I met your friend, just outside the Twolegplace.”

Crowfeather slid out his claws, scraping on the gritty surface of the rock. “Please tell me what happened,” he begged.

Yew crouched down with his paws tucked underneath him, flakes of snow blotching his tabby pelt. “She was on the edge of the forest, right next to the Thunderpath,” he meowed. “She was in a pretty bad way, wounded and exhausted. But like I said, she was ready to fight me until I convinced her I was no enemy.”

“What happened then?”

“I found her some marigold for her wound,” Yew told him, “but it was worse than I could cope with, so I told her to go into the Twolegplace.”

Crowfeather gazed at the tabby tom in horror. “You told her what ?”

Yew twitched his whiskers in amusement. “Most Twolegs are pretty kind to injured cats. Someone would take her in, and they might even take her to the vet.” As Crowfeather opened his mouth to ask a question, Yew added quickly, “I guess that’s what you would call a Twoleg medicine cat. They’d give her the help she needed.”

“And Nightcloud did that?” Crowfeather asked, fascinated by the idea of his former mate agreeing to set paw inside a Twoleg den.

Yew shrugged. “I think so. She didn’t look happy about it, but the whole of the forest there reeked of dogs and foxes, so she couldn’t go back that way. She headed for the housefolk dens, and I never saw her again.”

“I have to go and find her!” Crowfeather exclaimed. The herbs Yew had given him, and the prey warm in his belly, made him feel full of strength again and ready for anything.

Yet he knew it would be mouse-brained to go into the Twolegplace alone. He had no idea what he would find there, but he was certain that Nightcloud must be trapped somehow, or she would have come home. Crowfeather was worried that it might be hard to get her out. If she even wants to come with me.

His first impulse was to ask Yew to go with him. Yet Yew had already told him that he’d been leaving the Twolegplace when he met Nightcloud. He wouldn’t want to go back there so soon. Besides, Crowfeather already owed him his life. He couldn’t bring himself to demand any more of him.

No, he thought. I need a different cat for this. And he knew which cat he wanted by his side.

I need Breezepelt.

CHAPTER 21

Crowfeather plodded across the moor toward the WindClan camp. The daylight had faded, and the first warriors of StarClan had appeared through ragged gaps in the cloud, casting a pale glimmer on the surface of the snow. Crowfeather’s head still throbbed, and he was exhausted from pushing his way through drifts that reached almost to his shoulders. But at least no more flakes were falling, and his determination to find Nightcloud kept him going.

He became more watchful as he approached the camp. He was acutely aware that he was still not allowed inside, and if Onestar or any of the warriors spotted him, he could be driven out before he got the chance to explain why he had returned.

I need to find a way to talk to Breezepelt without any other cat knowing.

Drawing closer still, Crowfeather could see a cat standing at the top of the hollow, keeping watch. At first he crouched down in the shelter of a jutting boulder, hoping for a chance to sneak past without being noticed. Then he recognized the graceful figure outlined against the gleaming snow.

Thank StarClan! It’s Heathertail.

Crowfeather emerged from behind the bush and dropped into the hunter’s crouch. Using the snow for cover, he crept forward, thrusting his way through and wincing as the cold stuff soaked into his fur. He was acutely conscious of how his dark gray pelt would stand out against the snow, and he didn’t want to alert Heathertail in case she called out to warn the Clan before he was close enough for her to recognize him.

When he was within a few tail-lengths he rose up and called out in a low voice. “Heathertail!”