Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

Crowfeather could hear more grumbling remarks from the cats around him. Though most of them were too low-pitched for him to make out the words, he had a good idea of what was being said.

“ThunderClan would feel that way.” That was Weaselfur; he was sitting so close to Crowfeather that he had no trouble hearing him. “They had cats who trained with the Dark Forest, but no real traitors.” His eyes narrowed with hostility as he turned his head to gaze at Breezepelt.

Crowfeather saw from Breezepelt’s hostile glare at the gray-and-white she-cat that he had noticed, and that he understood Weaselfur’s implication that he was a real traitor, since he had fought on the side of the Dark Forest.

His Clanmates still don’t trust him, Crowfeather thought sadly. Even after all he’s done, battling the stoats and helping to bring Nightcloud home.

For the first time, instead of becoming angry and uncomfortable himself, Crowfeather imagined how his son must be feeling. He rose to speak, but before he could, Breezepelt leaped to his paws and spoke in a voice so confident, his words rang out across all the clearing.

“No cat has to trust me, or the other Dark Forest warriors. We will prove ourselves, and then no other cat will dare to doubt our loyalty.”

“Yes! You’ll see!” Whiskernose yowled.

“We’re just as loyal as the rest of you!” Larkwing added.

Harespring backed up his Clanmates sturdily. “We trained in the Dark Forest to help our Clans!”

The yowls of support for Breezepelt rose up everywhere in the clearing from the other cats who had been deceived by the Dark Forest. They must all be feeling that they have something to prove, Crowfeather realized, not just Breezepelt. Onestar had made a Dark Forest warrior his deputy, Crowfeather knew, but not all the Clan leaders had made such public displays of acceptance and support. I wonder how the Dark Forest cats in other Clans are getting along.

The rest of the cats fell silent; glancing around, Crowfeather could tell that some cats had at least had been convinced by Breezepelt’s bold declaration.

Mistystar spoke from her branch of the Great Oak, her blue eyes gleaming and the moonlight turning her blue-gray fur to silver. “Then it’s agreed,” she meowed. “WindClan and ThunderClan will cooperate to tackle the stoats, and will call on RiverClan and ShadowClan if the need arises.”

No cat raised a voice in protest, though Crowfeather noticed that Lionblaze and Berrynose, who had started the argument, still looked unhappy.

“The Gathering is at an end,” Bramblestar announced.

The four leaders leaped down from the Great Oak. While Mistystar and Blackstar gathered their warriors together for the journey home, Onestar and Bramblestar held back, deep in conversation, and signaled to their cats to go ahead without them.

Jumping down from the tree-bridge, Crowfeather spotted Breezepelt and Heathertail just ahead of him, padding along the shore of the lake. He picked up his pace and caught up with them, inwardly flinching a little at the wary look Breezepelt turned on him. But if Crowfeather had learned anything, it was that he couldn’t let moments like this stop him from being a father to Breezepelt.

“Breezepelt,” he began, “I was really impressed by what you said back there.”

For a moment, Breezepelt looked surprised. “Well,” he said. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t doubt you,” Crowfeather continued, realizing with a jolt of surprise that what he said was true. “Whatever you need . . . you have my support.”

Breezepelt hesitated for a moment, and Crowfeather realized that Heathertail had dropped back, leaving him alone with his son. He felt suddenly as exposed and vulnerable as if an eagle were hovering over him on the open moor.

Breezepelt looked awkwardly down at his paws. He looks just as uncomfortable as I am, Crowfeather thought.

“I trained with the Dark Forest to become a stronger warrior,” Breezepelt explained at last. “I needed some cat to believe in me, and the Dark Forest cats did—or at least they seemed to. But I wasn’t fighting against the Clans. I’ll always be a WindClan cat first. This battle with the stoats is my chance to prove myself,” he finished resolutely.

Listening to him, Crowfeather remembered the terrible moment in the battle when Breezepelt had attacked Lionblaze. That hadn’t been the action of a traitor, he realized now, but of a cat driven to desperation by his sense of failure and isolation.

Now, looking at Breezepelt’s determined face, Crowfeather felt a wave of tenderness wash over him. He could see in his son something of the innocent kit—so eager for new challenges and adventures—that Nightcloud had first presented to him, before it had all gone wrong.

“Like I said, I’ll do whatever I can to help,” he assured Breezepelt. His voice was hoarse with the strangeness of the words and his anxiety that his son wouldn’t accept what he was offering. “I know I haven’t always been the father you deserve,” he added, “but now I want to change that.”

Breezepelt said nothing. He only ducked his head awkwardly, but the warmth in his eyes told Crowfeather all he needed to know.

As he padded along beside his son, their pelts brushing, Crowfeather felt an answering warmth welling up inside him.

This is what it must feel like to be a real father, he thought.

CHAPTER 29

The day after the Gathering dawned damp and cloudy, and there was a tang of rain in the wind that blew from the top of the moor. By now most of the snow had disappeared, except for drifts in sheltered hollows, but frost furred the tough moorland grass, and every pool was rimmed with ice.

My paws are cold enough to fall off, Crowfeather thought.

He shivered as he headed toward the ThunderClan border along with Onestar and a chosen group of WindClan warriors. Harespring padded along at his leader’s shoulder, while Nightcloud and Breezepelt followed closely behind. Heathertail was bringing up the rear.

After the Gathering had ended, Onestar and Bramblestar had remained behind and talked. They’d decided that they would meet at the border to discuss how their Clans would work together to defeat the stoats. Crowfeather could only hope that this time they would come up with a plan that would succeed.

As they left the moor behind and entered the strip of woodland beside the stream, Crowfeather became aware of a strong ThunderClan scent just ahead. Drawing closer to the border, he spotted a large group of the ThunderClan cats assembled on the opposite bank; Bramblestar and Squirrelflight stood in the center, with Jayfeather on one side of them and Lionblaze on the other.

Crowfeather couldn’t help noticing how many of the ThunderClan warriors looked wary and distrustful, muttering to one another as the WindClan cats padded up. His pelt prickled with apprehension at the sight of them.

How will we unite to fight the stoats if we can’t get along among ourselves?

In particular, Crowfeather noticed that Lionblaze and Breezepelt were glaring at each other.

However, Bramblestar dipped his head politely to Onestar as the two leaders faced each other across the stream. “Greetings, Onestar,” he meowed.

Equally polite, Onestar returned the greeting, and Crowfeather breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, no cat was going to mention Bramblestar’s lack of experience or Onestar’s failure to control the stoats on his own.

“So,” Bramblestar began, “what do you suggest, Onestar?”

“We’ve tried going down the tunnels to fight the stoats,” Onestar replied, “and it was a disaster. The stoats know the tunnels better than we do, and there are too many places for them to hide. There are more of them, and they’re smaller than us, so they fight better in tight corners. Somehow we have to get them out into the open.”