Crowfeather's Trial

Murmurs of dismay arose from the cats clustered around him. One voice rang out above them, from somewhere behind Crowfeather. “Absolutely not!”

Turning, Crowfeather saw that Onestar had padded up to join his warriors, and was glaring at him with cold disapproval.

“Crowfeather, I can’t believe you would even suggest we turn to ThunderClan,” he growled. “WindClan can handle itself. What’s happened here is none of ThunderClan’s business. There’s no way I’m going to allow the other Clans to find out that we’re vulnerable right now. Firestar was always meddling in our business,” he added. “I don’t want to set that precedent with Bramblestar, or soon ThunderClan will be sticking their noses into all our problems.”

“And especially if we can’t even trust all the cats in our own Clan,” Leaftail mewed, with a nasty look at Breezepelt.

Even before Leaftail had finished speaking, Heathertail whipped around to glare at her Clanmate. “How dare you say that!” she hissed. “Breezepelt was the first to kill one of the stoats. You should be grateful.”

Leaftail’s only response was a disdainful flick of his tail.

“I don’t need you to defend me,” Breezepelt informed Heathertail, fur rising all along his spine. “In fact,” he added, his cold stare raking across his Clanmates, “I don’t need any of you.”

Heathertail’s eyes widened in shock and hurt at Breezepelt’s response. Crowfeather was surprised, too, when Heathertail had done nothing but defend his son. He knew that Breezepelt was just lashing out in anger and frustration, but he guessed that when he calmed down, he would regret snapping at Heathertail. She was one of the only true friends he had in the Clan.

“Traitor!” Crouchfoot yowled as the clamor continued.

More yowls rose from the assembled cats, most of them accusing Breezepelt, though a few tried to make themselves heard in his defense. With bristling pelts and claws sliding out, the cats were heartbeats away from attacking one another. Weaselfur pushed past Crowfeather, almost knocking him off his paws, as he squared up to Leaftail, his lips drawn back in a snarl.

Crowfeather could do nothing but stand in dismay as he watched his beloved Clan falling apart before his eyes.

“That’s enough!” Onestar’s caterwaul rose above the outcry. “Sheathe your claws!” As the warriors turned toward him, he added, “Don’t you think the stoats would enjoy seeing us fight among ourselves?”

Crowfeather crept off into the medicine-cat den. The sounds of argument faded away as Onestar got control of his Clan and, with Harespring’s help, sent the uninjured warriors out on hunting patrols. Crowfeather didn’t want to be chosen.

I’m sure every cat would rather chew off their own tail than patrol with me.

“Do you mind if I stay in here for a while?” he asked Kestrelflight. “I could help you watch Featherpaw.”

To Crowfeather’s surprise, Kestrelflight gave him a sympathetic glance. He must be the only cat who doesn’t think I’m a waste of space.

“That would be a real help,” Kestrelflight replied. “I’ve been sorting out the herbs I need to treat the other injuries, but I don’t want to leave Featherpaw alone. Can you stay with her until I get back?”

“Sure.”

Kestrelflight padded out of the den with a leaf wrap of herbs in his jaws. Left alone with Featherpaw, Crowfeather settled down beside her nest and lowered his head to give her a sniff. Though she was still unconscious, the clean tang of comfrey and marigold was stronger than the scent of blood, and her breathing seemed to be deeper and steadier than before.

Crowfeather wanted to speak to her, but guilt made the words stick in his throat. I’ve failed her, just like I failed Breezepelt.

“Featherpaw, I’m so sorry I encouraged you to go into danger,” he mewed at last. “I should have been more careful with what I said to you, and as soon as I saw you out there by the tunnels, I should have sent you straight back to camp. But I never thought everything would go so wrong, so quickly.”

His mind drifted back to his sense that some greater threat was looming over the Clans, and that the only way to deal with the stoats was to involve ThunderClan. But Onestar won’t hear of it, he thought resentfully. He’d hoped that, after the Great Battle, the Clans would realize they needed one another more than ever. Instead it felt like they were even more divided.

And what about WindClan? he wondered. There’s not only fighting between the Clans… there’s fighting within, too. Was WindClan doomed to tear itself apart with arguments? Could they ever work together when so few cats trusted Breezepelt?

“And then there’s Breezepelt himself,” he murmured aloud. “What’s going to happen to him?”