Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather’s belly clenched in panic. The stoats have attacked!

He led the way down into the camp, flinching at the heavy scent of fear and blood. The first cat they came to was Emberfoot, who was lying on his side and bleeding from a deep scratch down his flank.

As Crowfeather and the patrol approached him, Emberfoot raised his head and fixed them with an angry glare. “Onestar!” he yowled. “They’re back!”

The WindClan leader emerged from his den and stalked across the camp, weaving his way through the bodies of his Clanmates. Crowfeather noticed a large, angry-looking wound on his neck and shoulder, and for a moment he couldn’t focus on anything else. What happened here?

Then he saw that Onestar’s eyes were narrowed in fury as he halted in front of Crowfeather and the others.

“How dare you leave camp without telling me?” he snarled. Crowfeather realized that the Clan leader wasn’t looking at him; his anger was directed toward Breezepelt, Heathertail, and Gorsetail. “You may have noticed,” he continued, waving his tail to indicate the wrecked camp, “that the stoats attacked us during the night. They were able to do this because”—he glared at Heathertail—“our border was not being watched.”

The she-cat’s blue eyes shimmered with shame, as she dipped her head. But Crowfeather could tell, she didn’t dare speak.

“It was a terrible battle!” Onestar went on. “It took a long time to drive them away, and many, many cats were injured.”

Crowfeather gazed around the camp and at the bodies of his Clanmates strewn on the ground. Some had only minor wounds, though others were barely able to move. Onestar wasn’t exaggerating. This was a serious attack.

“It was my idea to—” he began, but the Clan leader ignored him, as if he hadn’t spoken, or even as if he weren’t there.

“If you had been here, as you were supposed to be,” Onestar went on, “you could have helped fight back. Three more warriors would have made a difference.”

Guilt flooded over Crowfeather as he realized that his Clan leader was right. He was glad that his companions, especially Hootpaw, had avoided being injured in the battle, but he knew that they should have been there, doing their duty as warriors. “I’m sorry,” he meowed, letting his tail droop. “It’s my fault. I took them away from camp. But I had a good reason for it.” He stepped aside and Nightcloud came forward.

Onestar gazed wide-eyed at the black she-cat, who dipped her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Onestar.”

“It’s even better to see you,” the Clan leader mewed, his voice still heavy with tension, like a storm cloud before it breaks. “Are you well?”

“I am now,” Nightcloud replied. “Thanks to them.” She waved her tail at the others.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Onestar responded. “I thought we’d lost you for good. Later you can tell me the whole story, but just now there’s far too much to do.” He then turned back to the others. His voice rose to a menacing growl. “ I am Clan leader, and you had no right to sneak off. You—”

Onestar broke off as his gaze fell on Heathertail, who was standing at the back of the group, looking down at her paws. “Heathertail, when I couldn’t find you after the battle, I thought the stoats had gotten you. How do you think I felt then?”

At that, Heathertail jerked up her head. “I’m sorry,” she meowed. “But I had to go. I wanted to help.”

“That’s very noble,” Onestar responded, sounding as if he wasn’t sure whether to be furious with her or just glad that she was home safe. “But it doesn’t excuse any of you from breaking the warrior code. You could have cost cats’ lives by not being here. You did cost one cat’s life. Mine.”

“What?” Gorsetail asked, her fur suddenly bushing up with alarm.

“Look at this,” Onestar meowed, pointing to his own wound with his tail. “The stoats did that, and robbed me of a life.”

Crowfeather closed his eyes briefly, feeling as if he were being drenched in icy water. His Clanmates’ absence had been responsible for his leader’s losing a life. Could this get any worse? When a cat became Clan leader, they received nine lives from StarClan, but when they had to lead their Clan into the worst of every danger, they couldn’t afford to throw any of those lives away. I don’t know how many lives Onestar has left, but it can’t be many.

Crowfeather wanted to defend himself and his Clanmates, to point out they’d had no idea the stoats would attack, but looking at the fury in Onestar’s face, he knew that would be a very bad idea.

But Breezepelt wasn’t so tactful. “It’s not our fault!” he retorted. “If you had let us finish blocking the tunnels, like Harespring wanted, instead of traipsing back to camp once it got dark, the stoats couldn’t have gotten out—at least not on our side.”

Crowfeather stared at his leader, feeling oddly left out. Harespring wanted to finish blocking the tunnels, but Onestar said no? All the things Breezepelt described had happened while he was gone. And he felt an unexpected sadness at the realization that Clan life had gone on without him.

It was clear, too, that Onestar had made the wrong decision. He shivered at the thought of what might have happened. In a way, we’re lucky that the stoats didn’t attack ThunderClan, he thought. Bramblestar would have been just as furious as Onestar, and we don’t need any more trouble from him.

Onestar fixed his gaze on Breezepelt. “The last time I looked, you weren’t Clan leader, or even deputy,” he snarled. “I thought you had learned your lesson after the Great Battle, but now I’m not so sure. Are you a loyal WindClan cat?” he demanded.

“Of course I am,” Breezepelt replied without hesitation.

“Then you’d better start acting like it,” Onestar snapped. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you!”

Breezepelt opened his jaws to defend himself, but Heathertail slapped her tail across his mouth and gave him a warning shake of the head. Breezepelt subsided, the familiar sullen look settling over his face.

Gazing at his son, Crowfeather felt as small and miserable as a wet kit. I just wanted to save Nightcloud. I never meant to get Breezepelt into trouble again. Especially now, when he’s been doing so well.

Onestar sighed, clearly trying to control himself. “I don’t have time to stand here and yowl at you,” he mewed.

Could have fooled me, Crowfeather thought.

“We have to rebuild the camp and help the injured cats,” the Clan leader went on. “Heathertail, you can help Kestrelflight in the medicine-cat den. He’s completely overwhelmed. Breezepelt, Gorsetail—you can help rebuild the camp. Furzepelt and Leaftail are in charge, so report to them.”

As the three warriors moved away obediently, Onestar paused for a moment, gazing down at Hootpaw, who gazed back at him; Crowfeather guessed he was bravely trying not to flinch, or shrink away. “I’m not going to punish an apprentice for following his mentor,” Onestar growled. “But you’d better think about what you did, going behind your leader’s back, and show better judgment in future.”

Hootpaw gave a nervous nod, then scurried off to join the other apprentices, who were gathering up the scattered bedding. Crowfeather watched him go, and heard his excited squeak as he joined his denmates.

“We found Nightcloud and rescued her from Twolegs! And we climbed trees and fought foxes and crossed a Thunderpath. It was amazing !”

Crowfeather stifled a mrrow of amusement. I hope Onestar didn’t hear that.