Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

“Right,” Gorsetail added. “And no hunting patrols.”

The apprentice’s eyes stretched wide again, this time with horror at the thought. He looked even more scared of the threats than he had been of the monster. Checking on him, Crowfeather noticed that he kept well away from the Thunderpath, his nose busily probing into the grass.

It was Hootpaw who found the trace they were looking for. “Here! Over here!” he squealed.

Breezepelt was the first to reach him, sniffing eagerly at the place where Hootpaw pointed. “He’s right. That’s Nightcloud’s scent.” His amber eyes glowed with happiness and relief. “The foxes didn’t get her.”

Crowfeather bounded along the edge of the Thunderpath and tasted the scent for himself. Relief flowed over him as he recognized not only Nightcloud’s scent, but a trace of Yew’s, too.

“Yew’s scent is here!” he announced triumphantly. “He did meet Nightcloud!”

“So where did she go from here?” Heathertail asked.

Although the cats searched for a long time, they couldn’t find any more traces of Nightcloud’s scent. Breezepelt was getting more and more nervous, tearing up the grass with his claws. Crowfeather’s frustration was peaking when he suddenly realized what the problem was.

“Yew said that Nightcloud went into the Twolegplace,” he meowed. “We’re searching on the wrong side of the Thunderpath.”

“Into the Twolegplace?” Breezepelt’s tone was abrasive. “She would never have done that!”

Crowfeather flicked his ear irritably. “Normally, no,” he agreed, “but she was injured, too severely for Yew to help her. He said he told her to go into the Twolegplace for help.”

Breezepelt looked dubious. “She’d never trust a Twoleg to make her better,” he insisted.

“She might have,” Crowfeather countered, “if it was her only chance. Remember, she was far from home, separated by foxes from any medicine cat—never mind Kestrelflight.”

Breezepelt turned and stared at the lights beyond the Thunderpath.

“I know it seems weird,” Heathertail responded, resting her tail-tip on Breezepelt’s shoulder, “but why would Yew lie to Crowfeather? Besides, Nightcloud might have at least wanted to cross the Thunderpath to escape from the foxes. Let’s go and look.”

After a moment, Breezepelt turned back and nodded his assent.

Relieved, Crowfeather led the cats back to the place where Hootpaw had found Nightcloud’s scent. Lining them up along the edge of the Thunderpath, he mewed, “This shouldn’t be too difficult. Most monsters don’t come out at night. But we still need to be careful. Wait for my order, and when I say run, run !”

“Hootpaw, stay beside me,” Gorsetail added.

The apprentice was quivering with excitement as he waited with his Clanmates. Crowfeather looked carefully in both directions, but there was no sign of a monster, not even a distant roaring. “Okay,” he meowed. “Run!”

He bounded forward, so fast that his paws hardly touched the hard, black surface. Breezepelt and Heathertail were beside him, Gorsetail and Hootpaw a paw step behind. But before they reached the far side, a raucous screeching split the silence of the night. Glaring light swept over them and wind ruffled their fur as the monster swept past, barely a tail-length from their flying paws.

Every cat collapsed, panting, on the other side of the Thunderpath. “Mouse dung!” Gorsetail exclaimed. “I thought we were crow-food for sure.”

Breezepelt sprang to his paws. “Well, we’re fine,” he mewed impatiently. “Let’s carry on looking.”

Crowfeather cast a glance at his son, half proud and half incredulous. My paws are still shaking, he reflected, but if Breezepelt’s are, too, he couldn’t care less. This search for Nightcloud is really bringing out the best in him.

This time Heathertail took the lead, weaving this way and that along the edge of the Thunderpath as she padded along. After a few heartbeats she halted, her tail rising straight into the air as she lowered her head for a good sniff at the grass. A moment later she raised her head. “Here,” she mewed.

Crowfeather bounded over to her, his heart pounding with hope. Breezepelt was hard on his paws, and the two toms bent their heads beside Heathertail. The trace was faint, but as Crowfeather tasted the familiar scent, he felt hope swelling up inside him. Now we know that Yew was right, he thought. She escaped the foxes and went into the Twolegplace. If I can only find her, I still have a chance to make peace with her.

He let Breezepelt take the lead as they padded alongside the Twoleg dens, following the last vestiges of Nightcloud’s scent trail. It was hard to distinguish it among so many competing scents of Twolegs, dogs, other cats, and monsters. But Breezepelt in particular seemed to have a knack for following where his mother had gone.

By now moonhigh was past, and most of the Twoleg dens were dark and silent. A few more monsters passed them, but they didn’t seem to notice the cats in their headlong rush along the Thunderpath.

The black surface seemed to stretch on forever, with the long row of Twoleg nests on one side of it. Crowfeather’s legs ached with weariness, but hope helped him to keep putting one paw in front of another.

Then they came to a point where the scent trail seemed to stop, swamped by the mingled scents of several Twolegs. What happened to her here? Crowfeather asked himself. Could some Twoleg really have taken her away? And if they did, how will we ever find her?

Glancing at Breezepelt, Crowfeather guessed from his son’s desolate expression that similar thoughts were running through his mind.

“Have we lost her?” Breezepelt choked out. “Have we come as far as this, to lose her to a Twoleg?”

Crowfeather had a vision of some dark, faceless Twoleg stooping down and grabbing Nightcloud in its huge clumsy paws. I can’t bear to think what the Twoleg would do to her. Though he knew the loner meant well, Crowfeather had no faith in Yew’s assertion that most Twolegs were kind.

“No—look!” Heathertail drove away Crowfeather’s despairing thoughts as she pointed with her tail at the bottom of the Twoleg fence. It was made of flat wooden strips, and at one point the strip had broken away, leaving a jagged hole. “I’ll bet a moon of dawn patrols she went through here!”

Crowfeather thought it was quite likely. If I were here, wounded, I’d want to get away from that Thunderpath.

“Do you want me to check?” Heathertail asked him.

Crowfeather hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. But be careful.”

Heathertail wriggled her way through the gap in the fence, the spiky bits of wood scraping through her fur. A moment later her face reappeared in the hole, her eyes shining with excitement. “Yes! Her scent is here.”

The rest of the patrol followed Heathertail and found themselves in a Twoleg garden. Thick bushes surrounded a patch of grass that led up to the walls of the den.

“No stupid behavior now,” Gorsetail warned Hootpaw. “There can be all kinds of trouble near Twolegs.”

Hootpaw didn’t reply, just nodded fervently, his eyes wide and gleaming. He obviously believed it was the best patrol ever. He’ll be boasting about it for moons, Crowfeather thought, hiding his amusement . Then, reflecting that they weren’t out of danger yet, he added to himself, I hope.

The scent trail led across several Twoleg gardens. Crowfeather felt his paws prickling with apprehension, wondering what would happen if they were still following it when the sun came up and the Twolegs began to emerge from their dens.