Crowfeather's Trial

Chapter 1

Wind swept across the moor, ruffling Crowfeather’s gray-black fur as he stood among the rest of his Clanmates at the crest of the hill. They were gathered in a ragged circle around their Clan leader, Onestar, who stood beside a small pile of stones. Crowfeather remembered what hard work it had been to find the right number of smoothly rounded stones and push them up the slope to the place they had chosen. His paws still ached from the effort, and he raised one forepaw to lick a scrape on his pad.

But it was worth it, to do this.

“We will honor our Clanmates who fell in the Great Battle,” Onestar meowed. “Each of these stones stands for a fallen warrior, so that we will never forget their sacrifice. From now on, a patrol will visit this place every day, to repeat the names of those who died and to give thanks.”

Yes, Crowfeather thought. That way we’ll never forget their courage. They saved us from the Dark Forest.

The Clan leader paused for a heartbeat, then dipped his head toward the brown-and-white tom standing next to him. “As our new deputy, Harespring,” he continued, “you should put the last stone in place.”

Crowfeather stiffened, making a conscious effort not to let his shoulder fur bristle as he watched Harespring thrust the final stone across the springy moorland grass and slide it neatly into the gap left for it.

“This stone is for Ashfoot,” Harespring mewed solemnly. “She served her Clan well.”

Crowfeather felt a fresh pang of grief for his dead mother, whose throat had been ripped out by the claws of a Dark Forest warrior, and realized that his pain was mingled with disappointment that he hadn’t been chosen as the Clan’s new deputy. He was aware of some of his Clanmates casting sidelong glances at him, as if they had expected it, too. After all, he was a senior warrior, and one of the chosen cats who had traveled to the sun-drown-place to meet with Midnight. Both my parents were deputies, he thought, and I’ve given up more for my Clan than any cat… but I suppose I never will be deputy. Well, Onestar wanted to send a message by choosing a Dark Forest cat, and however mouse-brained that message may be — it’s sent.

He suppressed a sigh, admitting to himself that this was a strange time for the Clans, as they tried to come together after the Great Battle, almost a moon ago. It’s like Kestrelflight trying to heal a wound just by slapping cobweb on it, without cleaning it out or using any herbs.

Crowfeather narrowed his eyes as he gazed at his Clan leader. Onestar looked relaxed, content, his amber eyes gleaming — as if he truly believed that WindClan was united again. But Crowfeather knew it didn’t always work like that. And maybe that was another reason why he hadn’t been chosen. He was incapable of pretending that life could ever be that simple.

When the last stone was in position, Kestrelflight, the WindClan medicine cat, padded up to stand beside the pile, looking out over the horizon. The wind ruffled his mottled gray pelt, but his voice rang out clearly across the moor. “We feel the loss of all our dead Clanmates, but we know that they have been made welcome in StarClan. May they have good hunting, swift running, and shelter when they sleep.”

He dipped his head in deepest respect, then moved back into the crowd of his Clanmates. A ripple of agreement passed through the Clan, voices hushed with the solemnity of the moment.

Onestar began to speak again, but it was hard for Crowfeather to concentrate when he spotted his son Breezepelt hovering on the fringe, his expression angry and uncomfortable. Like he always looks, Crowfeather thought bitterly. His mind drifted inexorably back to the Great Battle, especially how he’d had to sink his claws into Breezepelt’s shoulders and haul him back to keep him from killing his half brother Lionblaze.

He knew that Onestar had forgiven Breezepelt, as well as all the other cats who had trained in the Dark Forest. They had each taken a new oath of loyalty to WindClan. But Crowfeather knew that the rest of the Clan wasn’t as eager to forgive as their Clan leader, and the cat they were finding it hardest to forgive was Breezepelt. Even now he could see suspicious looks directed toward his son and knew that he would hear whispers once they had returned to camp.

All the other Dark Forest warriors had come to their senses and fought beside their Clan — all except Breezepelt. He had actually stood with the Dark Forest; he had fought on their side.

It would be many moons before that was forgotten.

As Crowfeather watched his son, Breezepelt turned his head, and for a heartbeat their gazes locked. Breezepelt’s gaze was dark with anger and confusion. Then Crowfeather glanced away, not wanting Breezepelt to see the mixture of guilt and disgust he could feel in his eyes.

How did I fail so badly as a father? How did I raise a flea-brain who grew up to become a traitor to WindClan? He’s as much use as a dead fox.

Onestar drew his speech to an end, and with the ceremony over, the Clan began breaking up into smaller groups, making their way down the hill toward the camp. Crowfeather noticed that the other Dark Forest cats — Harespring, Larkwing, Furzepelt, and Whiskernose — were heading down together, as if they still felt that they didn’t belong with the rest of their Clanmates.

I was afraid of that, Crowfeather thought. Onestar had made Larkwing a warrior because of her bravery in the Great Battle, and given the injuries Whiskernose had suffered in that same battle, Onestar had let him retire with honor to the elders’ den. And Harespring was the new deputy. But none of that mattered if the rest of their Clan wouldn’t accept them. Why can’t Onestar see that? Does he have bees in his brain?

Crowfeather made his way back alone, padding along just behind a cluster of his Clanmates.

“I can’t believe it!” Gorsetail exclaimed. “Onestar tells us all to remember the fallen warriors, but he’s fine with the traitors who killed them staying in the Clan.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Crouchfoot protested, his ginger pelt bristling as the new warrior turned to his former mentor. “WindClan cats didn’t kill their Clanmates. Most of the cats who trained with the Dark Forest turned against them when they found out what was really going on.”

“Most,” Leaftail repeated with a lash of his tabby tail. “Not all.”

Moving as one, the cats turned to stare at Breezepelt, who was padding past them with Heathertail at his side.

“I know what you mean,” murmured Gorsetail. “It doesn’t seem right that Breezepelt is still here. I know Onestar thinks he isn’t a traitor because he didn’t try to kill a WindClan cat, but isn’t fighting on the side of the Dark Forest just as bad? How can we ever trust him again?”

“I never will,” Leaftail asserted confidently.

“The Clan would almost be better off if something happened to Breezepelt,” Gorsetail meowed. “Like a badger took care of him or something.”

Crowfeather couldn’t suppress a gasp of shock. Great StarClan, are they featherbrained? He wasn’t sure that he trusted Breezepelt, but he couldn’t believe he had heard a cat wishing death upon a warrior from her own Clan.

The four gossiping cats halted, turning to look at him with expressions of horror on their faces. Clearly they’d had no idea that he could overhear what they were saying.

“Uh… Crowfeather…,” Gorsetail began.

Crowfeather ignored her, not in the mood to give them the rebuke they were obviously expecting. I don’t give a mousetail what these flea-brains think… they don’t deserve the effort it would take to insult them. Instead he stalked past them with his head down, making for the camp. His pelt grew hot with anger as he felt the gazes of his Clanmates piercing him like wasp stings.

It was horrible to hear them talking about his son like that. But the worst of it was… he couldn’t disagree with them.

Back in camp, Crowfeather looked for his apprentice, Featherpaw, and found her near the fresh-kill pile, sharing a vole with Slightpaw and Hootpaw. He noticed with approval how she kept her gray tabby pelt neatly groomed, and her alert look as she spotted him approaching. He jerked his head to summon her.

“Come on. We’re going hunting.”

Featherpaw hastily swallowed the last mouthful of prey and swiped her tongue around her jaws. Then she stood up. “Great! Hootpaw and Slightpaw are going out, too. Can we all hunt together?”

Crowfeather was about to refuse when Harespring, Slightpaw’s mentor, strolled up to join them. Hootpaw’s mentor, Nightcloud, was walking just behind him.

“That’s a great idea,” Harespring mewed warmly. “The more hunting styles the apprentices get to see, the better.”

Crowfeather groaned inwardly. The last cats he wanted to spend time with were the new deputy and Nightcloud, who was his former mate and the mother of his WindClan son. I should never have mated with her, he thought. It was a mouse-hearted attempt to make a family in my own Clan. He had been angry and bitter over losing Leafpool. He’d never loved Nightcloud, and she’d never forgiven him for it.

Nightcloud didn’t look too pleased about this idea, either, but the three apprentices were exchanging delighted glances at the thought of training together. Crowfeather didn’t feel he had much choice; besides, he didn’t want to disappoint Featherpaw.

“Okay,” he muttered.

“Onestar wants us to go and hunt down near the ThunderClan border,” Harespring announced, gathering the patrol together with a sweep of his tail. “There have been reports of weird scents in that area, and for some reason prey is scarce.”

Crowfeather nodded. “Good idea. I tried hunting over there the other day and came back empty-pawed.”

Harespring took the lead as the patrol left the camp and headed downhill toward the border with ThunderClan. The apprentices scampered along together, jostling one another and boasting about how much prey they were going to catch.

The chilly wind had faded to a faint breeze, and wide patches of pale blue sky showed between the clouds. Crowfeather sniffed the air and picked up the scent of rabbit.

“I’ve got a good feeling about today,” Harespring announced. “I think the prey will be running well.” He sounded cheerful, though Crowfeather thought he had to be aware of the tension between him and Nightcloud, who was stalking along beside Hootpaw as if she was trying to pretend Crowfeather wasn’t there.

What’s her problem? Well, I’m not going to beg for her attention, if that’s what she expects.

The deputy had hardly finished speaking when a rabbit started up unexpectedly from a tussock of long grass and fled across the moor. Nightcloud raced after it; Crowfeather could not help admiring her strong, graceful bounds and the way her muscles rippled under her black pelt.

But she’s not my mate anymore, and that’s just fine by me. Life is easier now.

Suppressing a snort of annoyance, he turned to Featherpaw. “Watch Nightcloud,” he instructed her. “See how quickly she reacted? And when the rabbit changes direction, she doesn’t lose a step. Why is that?”

Featherpaw’s head tilted as she searched for the answer. After a moment she looked back at him with wide, questioning eyes. “I don’t know…”

“Because a good hunter is always thinking,” Crowfeather told her. “Always alert to a prey’s best route of escape. You can’t just follow it. You have to work out where it’s going to run. That’s what Nightcloud is doing now.”

Featherpaw nodded, her gaze fixed on the black she-cat. “She’s great!”

As she spoke, the rabbit vanished behind an outcrop of rocks, with Nightcloud hard on its paws. A shrill squeal of terror was abruptly cut off, and a moment later Nightcloud emerged from the rocks with the limp body of the rabbit dangling from her jaws.

“She got it!” Hootpaw exclaimed.

“Brilliant catch!” Harespring meowed heartily as Nightcloud padded back to the rest of the patrol.

“Yeah, good job,” Crowfeather added when her eyes briefly met his.

Nightcloud swiftly looked away from him. “Thanks, Harespring,” she mewed.

Crowfeather swallowed a rumble of annoyance, not wanting to look angry in front of the apprentices. How petty! She can’t even accept my praise.

When Nightcloud had finished scraping earth over her rabbit to collect it later, the patrol continued farther down the hill. Crowfeather was the first to spot the black-tipped ears of a hare poking up from where the creature was crouching in a shallow dip in the ground.

“Who can tell me what the problem is here?” Harespring asked the apprentices in a low voice.

Featherpaw waved her tail excitedly but had the sense to speak in a quiet murmur as she answered. “The breeze is blowing from us to the hare.”

“Right,” Harespring mewed, while Crowfeather felt proud that his apprentice had spoken first. “So it’s going to scent us long before we can get up close enough to pounce. What do you think we should do about that?”

This time it was Hootpaw who replied. “Move around so we’re in a better place?”

“Good,” Harespring praised him. “And this is one of the times when it can be better to hunt in a team, rather than alone. Crowfeather, I’m going to work my way around until I’m on the far side of the hare. When I give the signal, I want you to chase the hare over to me.”

Crowfeather nodded, thinking that if he had been leading the patrol, he would have given that task to one of the apprentices. But I must be mouse-brained, because Harespring’s the deputy. What do I know? “Okay.”

Harespring set off at once, creeping along with his belly fur brushing the ground, taking advantage of every scrap of cover. Crowfeather could barely make out his brown-and-white pelt among the tussocks of wiry grass. The apprentices watched, their claws flexing in anticipation.

But before Harespring was in position, a stronger puff of wind passed over the ground. The hare’s head lifted from its cover, its nose twitching.

Then it sprang, fleeing back up the hill, forcing itself along with powerful strokes of its hind legs. Harespring rose to his paws, his tail lashing in frustration. “Fox dung!” he exclaimed.

Crowfeather hurled himself after the hare, quickly noticing that a black shape was streaking alongside him. Nightcloud.

“I’ll try to overtake it,” she gasped. “Drive it back to you.”

She put on an extra burst of speed, flashing past the hare and turning to confront it with teeth bared and claws extended. The hare almost tripped over its paws as it doubled back, skidding downhill. Crowfeather bunched his hind legs, launching into a leap, then landed on top of it and sank his fangs into its throat.

Once the hare was dead, Crowfeather stood back, panting, and waited for Nightcloud to rejoin him. He wanted to share the triumph of a successful kill, just as he would with any of his Clanmates, but Nightcloud padded past him toward the others as if she were hardly aware that he existed. Who made dirt in her fresh-kill? Crowfeather gave a shrug, picked up the hare, and followed her. If that was how she wanted things to be between them, he was not going to give her the satisfaction of showing her that he cared.

“Wow, it’s huge!” Slightpaw exclaimed as Crowfeather dropped his prey at Harespring’s paws.

Crowfeather gave the deputy a nod. “Like you said, teamwork,” he mewed dryly.

Harespring looked slightly discomfited. “Let’s go farther down,” he suggested. “We might find some smaller prey nearer the stream, and the apprentices can have a try.”

“That will take us past the place Onestar asked us to check out, too,” Nightcloud added.

When they had buried the prey, Harespring took the lead again, making for the stretch of woodland on the WindClan side of the border stream. Before they reached the trees, the deputy drew to a halt at the edge of a gorse thicket that straggled over the hillside. At the foot of the slope a stretch of flat ground led to a steep bank riddled with holes.

“Onestar thinks there’s something odd going on here,” he meowed. “Let’s see if we can find out what it is.”

Hootpaw’s tail shot straight up into the air. “Are we going to explore the tunnels?” he asked. “Cool!”

“You aren’t going to explore anywhere,” Nightcloud informed him sternly, flicking his shoulder with her tail. “All the apprentices, keep back.”

“We never get to do anything,” Hootpaw grumbled, his tail drooping.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll get to do the elders’ ticks,” his mentor warned him. “Now, let’s all see what we can scent.”

Crowfeather opened his jaws to taste the air, and at once an unfamiliar scent trickled past them. “Can you smell that?” he asked.

“Weird…,” Harespring murmured. “I feel like I should recognize it, but… I’m not sure.”

“It might be coming from the tunnels,” Nightcloud pointed out.

Crowfeather turned a slow circle, looking about them. The tunnels that gaped in the bank stretched for countless fox-lengths underneath the territory, joining WindClan to ThunderClan. The nearest hole in the side of the steep bank gaped open only a few tail-lengths away. It was quite possible that some kind of animal had made its den inside there.

“There’s nowhere else it can be coming from,” he responded to Nightcloud. “Maybe we ought to take a look.”

Even though Crowfeather had made the suggestion, his pelt prickled with apprehension at the thought of padding down into the darkness under the earth. So few cats used the tunnels now that he had no idea what condition they were in these days. “Featherpaw, you were told to stay back,” he added, as his apprentice craned her neck to peer into the gaping hole.

Harespring paused thoughtfully, jaws open, then shook his head. “The scent is pretty stale,” he meowed. “Whatever left it might be long gone.”

Or maybe they’re just camped out very deep inside the tunnel. Crowfeather didn’t speak this thought aloud, though. The Clan’s new deputy had obviously decided not to investigate, and Crowfeather admitted to himself that he was relieved to stay out in the open air.

“So are we hunting or not?” Nightcloud asked irritably.

“Sure we are,” Harespring responded. “Why don’t we see what we can find around here? If the scent is stale, the prey might be coming back.”

“Good luck with that,” Nightcloud muttered. “It’s been scarce on this side of the territory since just after the Great Battle.”

Harespring shrugged. “We can still give it a try. And we may find out something useful.”

The three warriors split up, each taking their own apprentice. Crowfeather caught no prey-scents on the ground, and only faint traces in the air, but eventually he spotted a sparrow perched on a jutting spike of rock. Perfect for an apprentice’s practice.

Just as he was beginning to advise Featherpaw on how to pounce on it, a loud yowl split the air from farther along the bank.

“Great StarClan!” he exclaimed. “What’s that?”

He whipped around and raced alongside the bank toward Hootpaw, who was standing rigid, his gaze fixed on another of the dark tunnel entrances. His fur was so bushed up, he looked twice his size.

Crowfeather’s pelt prickled with apprehension as he wondered what could have spooked the apprentice like that. Hootpaw wasn’t easily frightened; he was usually a bold and adventurous young cat.

“Hang on, I’m coming!” Crowfeather called out as he charged up, half expecting to see a fox or a badger emerging from the tunnel. Except that wasn’t fox or badger scent.

As Crowfeather halted beside Hootpaw, he thought that he spotted something white and shining at the mouth of the tunnel, whisking out of sight into the blackness.

That looked like a tail…, he thought. Or am I seeing things?

Featherpaw joined him, panting, while Nightcloud hurried up with a vole in her jaws. Harespring and Slightpaw ran up shortly after.

“What happened?” Nightcloud asked, dropping her prey. “Hootpaw, tell me you didn’t go into the tunnel, after what I told you!”

“I didn’t!” Hootpaw protested. “But I… I saw something in there. An animal I’ve never seen before, like a glowing, pure white cat! It looked right at me, like it wanted to tell me something.”

“Oh, for StarClan’s sake, don’t be so mouse-brained,” Nightcloud snapped. “There’s no such thing as glowing white cats — only StarClan, and they glitter like stars. Honestly, you made such a noise, I thought a badger must be ripping your fur off!”

“I know what I saw,” Hootpaw mewed stubbornly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It was scary!”

Harespring looked thoughtful. “Smoky from the horseplace told me once that kittypets sometimes came back after they died, all shining white, to visit their Twolegs. He said he’d seen ghosts with his own eyes.”

“That’s the most flea-brained thing I’ve ever heard!” Crowfeather exclaimed, glaring at Harespring. It was bad enough that Hootpaw was scared out of his fur. They didn’t need Harespring encouraging him. “Maybe kittypets believe that, but they don’t even commune with StarClan.” Harespring returned his glare for a moment but finally looked away as if he was embarrassed. He should be, Crowfeather thought, annoyed. This is who Onestar chose over me? A warrior who can barely catch a rabbit and now believes in ghosts? Some deputy.

“I saw a glowing white cat,” Hootpaw insisted. His fur was lying flat again, but his eyes were still wide and frightened, and Crowfeather could see that Featherpaw and Slightpaw were beginning to look apprehensive as well, casting nervous glances at the tunnel entrance as if, at any moment, whatever the apprentice had seen was going to come charging out of the shadows.

Crowfeather knew it was nonsense, but all the same, something was niggling at the back of his mind. If there were ghost cats, he thought, this would be the right time for them to show up. We lost so many of our Clanmates in the Great Battle. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Clearly, he was letting the apprentices — and their mouse-brained deputy — get to him. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever Hootpaw had seen, but now wasn’t the time to find it.

“I think we’ve done enough hunting for one day,” he meowed decisively. “Let’s carry our prey back to camp.”

Harespring opened his mouth as if to argue, but he quickly snapped it shut and nodded his head. Crowfeather knew the deputy was probably irritated that he was calling the shots, but since he was eager to leave the area, he went along with him. Without any further discussion, the patrol set off, collecting their prey as they went. The deputy loaded up the apprentices and sent them on ahead, while he padded along behind with Crowfeather and Nightcloud. Crowfeather couldn’t help noticing how subdued the apprentices seemed now, so different from their earlier playfulness.

“I have no idea what got into Hootpaw.” Nightcloud still sounded cross. “He’s usually so sensible.”

“I know,” Harespring responded. “That’s why I believe him.” At Nightcloud’s annoyed expression, he continued. “Look, I’m not saying they were glowing white cats, but he must have seen something.”

“He did,” Crowfeather mewed thoughtfully. “I know because I saw something, too.”

“Oh, really, you ‘saw something’?” Nightcloud turned an incredulous gaze on him. “Not a glowing white cat, by any chance?”

“No.” Featherbrain. Crowfeather swallowed his anger, not wanting to get into an argument with Nightcloud. “But something white… like maybe a tail vanishing down the tunnel. There could have been another animal there.”

“But there aren’t any white animals on the moor,” Harespring objected. “Still… perhaps we should report it to Onestar.”

“What can he do about it?” Nightcloud asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harespring replied. “But we were told to check out this area, and that’s what we’ve found. Besides, suppose this is the start of some kind of trouble, and we didn’t report it. The Clan would be unprepared, and if anything terrible were to happen, it would be our fault. Onestar needs to know what’s going on in his own territory.”

Crowfeather was surprised to find himself murmuring in agreement. Harespring might not have been the deputy he would have chosen, but he had to admit that everything he’d just said was true. He gave Harespring a sideways glance. Maybe the tom wasn’t the worst deputy Onestar could have appointed after all.

Crowfeather picked up his pace until he caught up with the apprentices. Featherpaw was trudging along, carrying the rabbit Nightcloud had caught earlier; as she glanced up at Crowfeather, he could see the worry in her eyes.

“It’ll be okay, you know,” Crowfeather reassured her. “If there is anything in the tunnels, Onestar will help us figure out what to do about it.”

Featherpaw blinked at him. “I know,” she mumbled around her prey. “I just wish we could be sure what Hootpaw saw.”

“We will be soon,” Crowfeather responded. “And then, whatever it is, WindClan will deal with the problem.”

Featherpaw’s tail shot up in the air and her gaze cleared. “Yeah! WindClan can deal with anything.”

Crowfeather gave her an approving nod, reflecting on what a bright young cat she was. She would make a great warrior. He imagined how proud he would be if he were her father. But the thought made his gut twist, and he suddenly felt guilty, thinking of Breezepelt, and how he had a better relationship with his apprentice than his son.

Returning to the camp, Crowfeather spotted Onestar outside his den, stretched out in the pale sun of leaf-bare. He sat up alertly as Harespring led his patrol across the camp toward him. “Did you find anything down there?” he asked.

Harespring began to explain about the weird scent they had picked up near the tunnels, and how Hootpaw — and maybe Crowfeather — had seen something at one of the entrances.

“It was a ghost!” Hootpaw interrupted. “A shining white ghost cat!”

Onestar looked befuddled. “A ghost?” he echoed, twitching his whiskers in confusion.

Harespring explained what he had learned from Smoky at the horseplace about how he claimed he’d seen dead kittypets returning as shining white “ghosts.” Crowfeather could see that Onestar was listening carefully, but also that he didn’t believe a word of it.

“I can see you were all very brave,” the Clan leader told the apprentices when Harespring had finished. “But I don’t think there’s any such thing as a ‘ghost cat.’ Only StarClan. What you saw must have been a trick of the light, or your imagination.”

Hootpaw still looked mutinous, but he had enough sense not to argue with his Clan leader.

“It’s that weird scent that’s bothering me,” Onestar went on. “It seems like there must be something around the tunnels, and I don’t like the sound of that. I think we should organize another patrol to take a look inside and check it out.”

“I’ll take one now, if you like,” Harespring offered.

Onestar shook his head. “The sun will have gone down before you get there,” he responded. “It will have to be tomorrow. I expect some kind of animal has made its home in the tunnels,” he continued. “It wouldn’t be the first time that has happened, especially in the cold of leaf-bare. But if there is something living there, we need to drive it out. Those tunnels are ours.” Looking down reassuringly at the apprentices, he added, “Hootpaw, you did well to spot potential danger, but I don’t want any of you to go spreading wild stories around the camp. I want every cat to keep calm. There’s really nothing to worry about.”

Crowfeather was impressed by his leader’s authority and the way he comforted the apprentices, though he doubted that Hootpaw would be able to keep his mouth shut about what he had seen. Once the first shock was over, he would be too excited to keep quiet. And too fuzz-brained.

“Okay,” Onestar meowed, “go and get yourselves something to eat. No, not you, Crowfeather,” he added, as the patrol began to move away. “I want a word with you.”

Crowfeather halted. What now? he wondered.

Onestar waited until the rest of the patrol was gone. “Tell me again what you saw. Give me as much detail as you can.”

“I ran up to the tunnel entrance when I heard Hootpaw yowl,” Crowfeather explained. “And I caught a glimpse of something white disappearing into the darkness. I thought it looked like a tail, but I can’t be sure. Maybe it was as you said — just a trick of the light… or my imagination making me see danger.”

Onestar listened intently, saying nothing until Crowfeather had finished. Then he shook his head sadly. “If there were a time for WindClan cats to be seeing ghosts, it would be now,” he mewed, echoing Crowfeather’s earlier thought. “We lost so many Clanmates in the Great Battle.”

Crowfeather nodded, his throat suddenly dry. It hurt to think of all the cats they would never see again.

“The loss of Ashfoot must weigh heavily on you,” Onestar went on, his eyes full of sympathy. “I know you miss her every day.”

Crowfeather met Onestar’s gaze, surprised to hear the leader mention his mother. Even the sound of her name made his chest tighten with sorrow. Talking about his grief for his mother was still too painful. He had to struggle to respond without breaking down. “Yes, it has been… difficult,” Crowfeather admitted finally, almost having to push the words out of his mouth.

“Perhaps you can find comfort in the rest of your family,” Onestar suggested. “Nightcloud and Breezepelt.”

Crowfeather felt his muscles tense and said nothing. Does he have bees in his brain? Onestar knows very well there’s no comfort for me there.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Onestar went on. “Breezepelt tells me you haven’t so much as looked in his direction since the Great Battle. Is that true?”

Fury began to build up in Crowfeather’s belly. I don’t want to talk about this! “I suppose so,” he muttered.

“Then tell me why,” Onestar persisted. “I’ve made it clear, as Clan leader, that I’ve forgiven Breezepelt for his part in the battle. And he has sworn a new oath of loyalty to WindClan. So why, as Breezepelt’s father, do you refuse to accept that?”

“I know that what you say is true,” Crowfeather replied, struggling not to unleash his pent-up frustrations on his Clan leader. “But… well, you know that I caught Breezepelt about to kill Lionblaze.”

“Lionblaze may be your son, but he is a ThunderClan cat,” Onestar responded in a level voice. “Breezepelt is a WindClan cat. It seems clear to me where your loyalty should lie.”

Crowfeather drew his lips back in the beginning of a snarl, but he could find nothing to say in answer to his leader’s arguments. He knew that what Onestar said made sense. He just found it hard to pretend that his time with Leafpool, and the kits they’d had together as a result, meant nothing to him.

But no cat would understand that but me.

For a few heartbeats, Onestar was silent. “Crowfeather,” he began again at last, “are you aware that many cats thought I would choose you as my deputy after Ashfoot’s death?”

Now Crowfeather felt even more uncomfortable. Whatever other cats had thought, the choice of a deputy was for the Clan leader to decide, and Crowfeather had never thought of objecting to Onestar’s choice of Harespring. Even if he did think it was mouse-brained.

“Yes, I knew that,” he admitted. “But—”

“Do you know why I made the choice that I did?”

Crowfeather took a deep, calming breath, wishing he could see the point of these questions. Because you’re mouse-brained? “I suppose that by choosing Harespring, you were sending a message that the Dark Forest cats can be trusted.”

“That’s true,” Onestar agreed. “But there is also a reason that I didn’t choose you.”

Crowfeather’s ears pricked in surprise. “There is?”

“Yes,” Onestar meowed sternly. “Because you care about your own anger and prejudices more than you care about WindClan.”

“That’s not true!” Is it?

“Wouldn’t you have accepted Breezepelt if it weren’t?” Onestar challenged him. “He is your Clanmate, not to mention your own son. Accepting him would clearly be the best thing for your Clan.”

Crowfeather had no answer to this. He felt his whiskers twitch with irritation as he looked away.

“I am your leader,” Onestar went on, “and I have said we will trust him. But you choose not to follow my lead. Instead of trusting your own son, you cling to your anger and disappointment.”

Crowfeather was silent, his claws flexing in and out as he struggled to calm himself. Part of him felt as if he should leap onto Onestar and rake his claws through his leader’s tabby fur. But he knew that attacking his leader would be crazy. If he lifted a claw to Onestar, he would be driven out of WindClan forever. Even thinking about doing it surprised and confused him. Why was he so angry all the time?

“I expect more from you, Crowfeather,” Onestar continued. “You are a brave and talented warrior. But you need to get to the bottom of your own problems and become a true WindClan warrior once again.”

“Do you know what I’ve given up to be loyal to WindClan?” Crowfeather demanded, his anger spilling over at last. “I’ve sacrificed so much, and you don’t give a mousetail about that!” Yet even as he said these words, guilt began to seep into his mind. There had been a time when he would have left WindClan to be with Leafpool; it was her decision that had led them back to the hunting grounds by the lake. From the way Onestar was looking at him, Crowfeather could tell that he suspected as much.

Onestar inclined his head. “I do know what you have sacrificed — or what you think you have,” he meowed. “But if you were sincerely a WindClan cat above all else, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into that situation. And once you had, you would have accepted why it needed to end. You would not still be bitter about it.”

Full of rage and confusion, Crowfeather let his claws slide out and dig hard into the ground; he felt as if his blood were bubbling and his fur prickling. He didn’t know how to respond.

“You can go now,” Onestar told him with a dismissive wave of his tail. “Tonight, Kestrelflight will go to the half-moon meeting,” he added. “Perhaps StarClan will give him some guidance. And tomorrow I will send another patrol to see if we can find out what’s going on in the tunnels.”

Crowfeather waited until his fur had stopped prickling. Then he dipped his head respectfully to his Clan leader and stalked away. As he headed for the fresh-kill pile, he spotted Nightcloud and Breezepelt talking together. They broke off and raised their heads to watch him as he padded past, their eyes narrowed mistrustfully. Crowfeather thought of what Onestar had just said, about letting his anger go.

But I’m not ready to do that. Not yet.

Even more annoyed, Crowfeather seized a thrush from the pile and carried it away to the edge of the camp, far away from any other cat. He ate alone, in swift, angry bites.

I’ve given everything to my Clan, he thought resentfully. What more does Onestar want from me?