Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

“What about me?” Breezepelt asked. He still sounded doubtful that the plan would work.

“You and I are going to watch the Twolegs when they come down, and make sure that once the door is open, they don’t stop Nightcloud from coming out.”

Breezepelt bared his teeth and flexed his claws, determination driving out his uncertainty. “I can do that.”

“Yes, but don’t attack them unless you have to,” Crowfeather told him. “We don’t want to start more trouble than we can handle.”

Breezepelt stared at him for a moment, as if he felt like challenging his orders. He opened his jaws, then glanced at Nightcloud and clearly decided that protest wasn’t worth it; the most important thing was to get his mother back. He gave Crowfeather a curt nod.

“And me?” Gorsetail mewed.

“You can just keep a general watch, and pile in when you’re needed,” Crowfeather replied. “Are you ready, Nightcloud?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay.” Crowfeather’s gaze swept around the little group of his Clanmates. “Let’s do it.”

At once, Heathertail and Hootpaw threw back their heads and let out the most earsplitting caterwauls Crowfeather had ever heard. I wouldn’t be surprised if our Clanmates heard that all the way back in the camp!

Meanwhile, he and Breezepelt crouched one on either side of the transparent barrier, ready for when the Twolegs would appear. Gorsetail retreated into the shadows of a bush.

The horrible yowling had gone on for several heartbeats before light appeared in one of the gaps in the wall near the top of the Twoleg den. The Twolegs must have heard us, Crowfeather thought, his heart beating faster with anticipation.

A moment later, he heard the thump of heavy paw steps, and the space behind the barrier was lit by what looked like a tiny sun, up near the roof. A male Twoleg came into view, wearing some kind of long, loose pelt. A smaller female followed him, and stooped down, reaching inside the white leaf to give Nightcloud’s head a stroke. Crowfeather saw her stiffen under the touch, and guessed she was holding herself back from scratching.

“Come on . . . ,” Breezepelt muttered. “Open up.”

The male Twoleg did something to the shiny strip that separated the two parts of the barrier, then slid one of them back. He stepped out into the garden, yowling something and gazing around to see where the noise was coming from.

Nightcloud sprang to her paws and was about to slip out when the white tom suddenly shifted, sitting back on his haunches and craning his neck upward. Crowfeather felt his neck fur rising as he guessed—too late—what the kittypet was about to do.

A heartbeat later, Pickle let out a caterwaul of his own, almost drowning out the racket from the garden. Immediately the female Twoleg turned toward him, scooping up Nightcloud as she went. Nightcloud struggled in her grip, but couldn’t free herself.

“That mange-pelt!” Breezepelt snarled. “He’s trying to mess up our plan so Nightcloud has to stay. I’ll slaughter him!”

Crowfeather blocked him in time to stop him from charging into the den to attack the kittypet. “No—if you go in there you might get trapped,” he meowed. “Then we’d have two of you to rescue. Right now, we have to get Nightcloud out.”

Breezepelt hesitated for a moment, then dodged around Crowfeather and darted into the den. Instead of attacking Pickle, he veered aside, leaping at the female Twoleg. She let out a screech, stumbling a pace backward. At the same moment Nightcloud wriggled, sliding out of her grasp and landing on the floor with a thump.

“Out! Breezepelt, out!” Crowfeather yowled.

He raced away from the den and the light that spilled out of it, into the shadows at the edge of the garden. Glancing back, he saw that Nightcloud and Breezepelt were following. The male Twoleg made a grab for Nightcloud, but she dodged him and pelted on, while Gorsetail ran between his hind paws, almost tripping him.

Heathertail and Hootpaw gave up their caterwauling and joined them as they fled, with Gorsetail bringing up the rear.

“This is fun!” Hootpaw exclaimed, his eyes shining.

Crowfeather felt a flash of irritation at the way the apprentice was enjoying all this. But then he reflected that at least Hootpaw was getting through a dangerous situation, and playing a useful part, without losing his nerve. What’s the point of scolding him?

As they reached the fence, Nightcloud turned back for a moment. “I’m sorry, Pickle!” she called back to the white tom.

The cats didn’t stop running until they had crossed the Thunderpath again and reached the outskirts of the forest. Then Crowfeather felt it was safe to slow to a walk, though he kept his ears pricked and his nose alert for any sign of the foxes.

Breezepelt was padding along close to his mother, their pelts brushing, hardly watching where he was putting his paws because his gaze was fixed on her. His eyes were full of concern for her, and relief at having her back. Crowfeather thought that they almost looked like a family, although he still felt apart from the two of them. Breezepelt had never looked at him that way. And Nightcloud had certainly never looked at Crowfeather with the love she felt for Breezepelt.

“What happened to you?” he asked Nightcloud. “How did you end up in that Twoleg den?”

“It’s a long story,” the black she-cat replied, scratching at the white leaf thing. “Before we go any farther, get this off me, will you? I can’t do it myself.”

Breezepelt and Heathertail teamed up, clawing and biting at the white thing until they finally tore it off. Crowfeather padded up to it and gave it a curious sniff. It carried Twoleg scent, and Nightcloud’s, but that didn’t tell him very much. “What was that for?” he asked.

“Pickle told me it was supposed to stop me from messing with my wound,” Nightcloud explained with a disdainful flick of her tail. “Like I’d be so stupid!”

Crowfeather twitched his whiskers with amusement. “Flea-brained Twolegs! They think we have the sense of a sparrow.”

Nightcloud sighed. “It’s maddening. Anyway, I was hurt fighting the stoats in the tunnels, and I got completely lost in there. When I finally came out, I realized I was on ThunderClan territory. I was trying to get back to WindClan, but when I stopped by a pool to have a drink, three foxes surprised me.”

“I found that place,” Crowfeather told her. “I smelled your blood and your fear. I thought you must be dead.”

“I thought I was headed for StarClan,” Nightcloud admitted. “I tried to run away from the stupid mange-pelts, but I was so hurt and tired they could have caught me easily.” She gave her tail an angry lash. “If the stoats hadn’t wounded me, no way would those foxes have gotten anywhere near.”

“But they didn’t hurt you?” Breezepelt looked completely horrified by his mother’s story.

Nightcloud gave him a comforting nuzzle. “No. They just made me go the way they wanted. I think they were playing with me. Or maybe if they can get their prey to their den on its own paws, they don’t have to carry it, right? I wanted to climb a tree, but I didn’t have the strength even to do that.”

Heathertail brushed her tail along Nightcloud’s side. “That sounds dreadful. How did you get away?”

Nightcloud gave her chest fur an embarrassed lick. “I hate to say this, but it was a Twoleg and his dogs that saved me. They were walking in the forest, and the dogs—two big, stinky things—frightened the foxes away.”

“Was that the Twoleg who took you back to his den?” Breezepelt asked.

“No, I ran away, too,” Nightcloud told him. “I met a cat called Yew at the edge of the forest, and—”