by Erin Hunter
I can be a better father, he thought confidently. And if nothing else is going right . . . at least I’m making progress here.
CHAPTER 17
The scent of ThunderClan cats drifted into Crowfeather’s nose where he lay dozing in his nest in the warriors’ den just after sunup the next day. Startling awake, he spotted Gorsetail; her apprentice, Hootpaw; and Furzepelt, who had gone out on the dawn patrol, leading Bramblestar, Jayfeather, and Lionblaze into the camp. The WindClan cats’ fur was bristling as they hustled the visitors over to Onestar’s den.
Crowfeather rose to his paws and bounded over to the den as Harespring and some of the other WindClan cats began to gather around, gazing at the newcomers with narrowed eyes, the fur on their shoulders beginning to bristle. Lionblaze spotted Crowfeather as he drew to a halt in front of the leader’s den, then quickly looked away.
Crowfeather felt his pads tingle with apprehension. His news had brought the ThunderClan cats to this meeting, but he had no idea how Onestar would treat them. He hadn’t spoken to his Clan leader since his angry dismissal the day before. He could only hope that Onestar had seen sense and would welcome ThunderClan’s help.
“Bramblestar wants to talk to Onestar about Kestrelflight’s vision,” Furzepelt explained to Harespring.
“What about Kestrelflight’s vision?” Onestar’s voice came from his den underneath the Tallrock, and a heartbeat later the Clan leader emerged.
Crowfeather felt a heavy, sinking feeling in his belly. He could see that Onestar felt no friendliness toward the ThunderClan cats. The WindClan leader was looking at Bramblestar with an expression as icy as the leaf-bare wind that swept over the moor.
I don’t regret telling Jayfeather the truth . . . but I don’t think Onestar sees it my way. He’s not going to make this easy for Bramblestar. And Bramblestar hasn’t been a leader for very long. He might not know how to handle this.
Crowfeather stared at the ThunderClan leader. He was facing Onestar with a calm confidence that must surely have impressed the older cat.
Crowfeather took a pace or two closer to the Tallrock as Onestar gave the smallest possible dip of his head toward Bramblestar. “Greetings,” he mewed coldly.
The ThunderClan leader lowered his head respectfully. “Greetings, Onestar,” he began. “I’ve come to discuss what Jayfeather told me about the vision. I understand that you haven’t handled the stoats at your end of the tunnels, as you said you would, and you might need some help.”
Onestar twitched his whiskers irritably and exchanged a glance with Harespring. “I’m not sure where you got that idea,” he responded. “WindClan is doing just fine. We are coping with the threat ourselves.”
Bramblestar blinked in surprise and cast a confused look at Crowfeather. “That’s not what I was told.”
Crowfeather felt like he’d been dipped in freezing-cold water as he looked from Bramblestar to his own leader. He wished he could tell Bramblestar that he shared his surprise. He had known Onestar wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about accepting ThunderClan’s help, but he hadn’t thought he would outright deny that there was a problem.
That means the Clans won’t work together . . . which means the stoats might never be defeated. And that would leave WindClan vulnerable to whatever was being foretold in Kestrelflight’s vision.
Crowfeather’s neck fur prickled with frustration.
Does Onestar have bees in his brain?
Worse, his Clanmates were about to find out that he had gone behind their leader’s back. If anything could make me more unpopular, it would be that.
“One of your own warriors asked for a meeting with Jayfeather, to tell him—” Bramblestar began, only to have Onestar interrupt him.
“Of course, Bramblestar, you don’t understand this yet,” Onestar meowed, giving Bramblestar the kind of haughty look he might have given to a misbehaving apprentice, “because you’re a very new leader. But you need to learn that ordinary warriors don’t know everything. To get at the truth,” he continued with a pointed look at Crowfeather, “one must ask the Clan leader, and I’m telling you quite clearly that we don’t need help. Firestar would have understood that, but alas . . . he’s gone.”
Crowfeather winced at the mention of the previous ThunderClan leader. That’s hardly fair to Bramblestar. What cat could compare to Firestar?
Bramblestar’s amber eyes lit with anger, yet his voice was even as he replied. “If there are still stoats in the tunnels, they’ll eventually try to establish territory at our end. The threat must be contained for both our sakes. Arguing about it is just wasting time. There’s no reason our Clans can’t work together.”
Onestar’s mouth twisted in mockery. “You’re a young cat, but you’re already so hard of hearing! So I’ll say it again, as clearly as I can: WindClan deals with WindClan’s own problems. We don’t need ThunderClan’s meddling.”
“Meddling!” Lionblaze broke in, digging his claws into the ground. “I’ve heard you were pleased enough to have us meddle when Mudclaw led his rebellion.”
Bramblestar glared at his warrior. “Be quiet!” he snapped.
Crowfeather suddenly felt some cat’s gaze boring into him. He turned to see Jayfeather sitting at the edge of the group of cats, his blind blue eyes fixed on him. As he met that compelling stare, hardly able to believe that Jayfeather couldn’t see him, the ThunderClan medicine cat rose to his paws, swishing his tail angrily.
“If WindClan wants to deal with WindClan’s problems, fine,” he hissed. “We should leave now. We tried.”
“But it’s not that easy,” Bramblestar responded patiently. “If whatever is in the tunnels is a threat, it’s a threat to both Clans.” Turning to Onestar, he added, “You have the right to make decisions for your Clan, but no right to make decisions that will endanger mine.”
“That’s right!” Lionblaze agreed, his golden tabby fur beginning to bristle.
Crowfeather felt an anxious flutter in his belly at the sight of his son defending the cat who raised him. And I think they’re right, he mused. Does that make me a traitor to WindClan?
When he turned back toward the two Clan leaders, Bramblestar was meowing, “I insist that you work with me to deal with this threat.”
Briefly Crowfeather closed his eyes, feeling his pelt prickle with anxiety at Bramblestar’s obvious inexperience. If he’d had dealings with Onestar before, he would know that’s the worst thing to try. Onestar won’t let any cat force his paw.
Onestar’s calm air of superiority vanished entirely at Bramblestar’s words. His tabby fur bushed up until he looked twice his size, and he laid his ears flat against his head. “You can’t insist that I do anything,” he snarled. “I feel sorry for ThunderClan, stuck with you as leader, when every cat knows the bad blood you’ve inherited.”
Crowfeather couldn’t repress a gasp. Onestar must have really lost control to let himself mention Bramblestar’s evil father, Tigerstar. Glancing at his Clanmates, he saw that they were gazing at their leader with wide, shocked eyes, as if they, too, couldn’t believe what they had just heard.
It’s not fair to Bramblestar, Crowfeather thought. He only came here to offer his help.
“And you’re bringing that up now?” Bramblestar asked, dangerously quiet.
Onestar let out a snort of contempt. “Your father killed Firestar in the Dark Forest. You must be so proud of him! If not for his savagery, you might never have become leader. Did you and Tigerstar make that plan together?”
Crowfeather caught his breath as he saw Bramblestar’s neck fur begin to rise, and he feared briefly that he might attack the WindClan leader. There was such fury burning in the depths of his amber eyes. His muscles rippled under his dark tabby pelt as he gathered himself for a leap. Just as Crowfeather braced himself to step between the two quarreling cats, Bramblestar made a massive effort to control himself. But the air still sang with tension as the two leaders glared at each other.
“We should just leave,” Jayfeather repeated. “This i
s going nowhere. We tried to help.”
Bramblestar relaxed slightly. “Very well. But hear this, Onestar,” he growled. “You’ve made it clear that our two Clans are not allies. Remember that when the threat in the tunnels turns out to be too much for you to handle on your own. Remember that we offered to help, and you turned us away and insulted us.”
Onestar let out his breath in a derisive huff. “Why would I remember such a weak, useless Clan?”
Bramblestar ignored him, and after a moment the ThunderClan group headed out of the camp, their anger and frustration obvious in every hair of their pelts. Onestar waved his tail to order Gorsetail and Furzepelt to escort them.
Once they were on their way, Onestar turned to Crowfeather, his eyes narrowing in a gaze of disapproval.
“Was that necessary?” Crowfeather asked. “ThunderClan won’t work with us now, and if that’s not bad enough, we’ve got a hostile relationship with them. Who knows what will happen?”
“Unfortunately, it was necessary.” Onestar spat out each word. “Because one of my warriors gave ThunderClan information they had no right to. Who would have thought that Breezepelt would turn out to be more trustworthy than his father? As for you, Crowfeather, you’re getting under my fur. I’m warning you, put one more paw out of line, and you’ll be in real trouble!”
He whipped around and stalked back into his den with a single lash of his tail. Crowfeather was left to watch the ThunderClan cats growing smaller as they crossed the camp and climbed the far slope, to vanish at last onto the moor. His heart twisted at the sight of his ThunderClan sons stalking off with their backs to him.
We couldn’t be more divided.
Harespring gave Crowfeather an apologetic glance. “It will be all right,” he meowed.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Crowfeather retorted. “Look, Harespring, you’re Onestar’s deputy. Can’t you make him see sense? Can’t you tell him that we’ll never get rid of the stoats if we don’t have ThunderClan’s help?”
“I can’t do that!” Harespring’s eyes stretched wide and his tail bushed out in shock. “I’m loyal to Onestar. It’s my duty to see that my Clan leader’s orders are carried out.”
Even if your Clan leader is being mouse-brained? Crowfeather knew that there was no point in speaking his thought out loud. This is what comes of making a Dark Forest cat deputy. Harespring was so desperate to prove his loyalty that he didn’t dare put a paw wrong. Instead of making Onestar think about his decisions—even if eventually he had to accept them—he was following where Onestar led without question.
“Just think about what I’ve said,” Crowfeather pleaded.
“There’s no need to think,” Harespring snapped. “Onestar has got this. I told you, everything will be all right.” He stalked off, calling to his apprentice.
Crowfeather felt even more uneasy, his pelt prickling from ears to tail-tip. He wondered whether Harespring was just trying to convince himself. He wondered too whether he had fully understood Ashfoot and Feathertail’s advice.
I’m not a medicine cat, he told himself. What if that was just a dream, and not a message from StarClan? Or what if I misinterpreted the message? He let out a growl of frustration. Now I have no idea how all this will end.
But Crowfeather couldn’t stifle the feeling that it would not end well.
Night had fallen, and Crowfeather was plumping up the bedding in his nest when Harespring came into the warriors’ den and padded over to him.
“Onestar wants you to escort Kestrelflight to the half-moon meeting,” he announced.
A jolt of surprise struck Crowfeather like the blow from an outstretched paw. “Onestar’s overreacting a little, isn’t he?” he asked. “Sending a warrior to escort a medicine cat? That’s just making a big deal of showing that he doesn’t trust ThunderClan. Okay, there’s some tension between us, but would any cat attack medicine cats?”
Harespring shrugged. “Probably not, but what can you do? That’s what Onestar wants.”
If you ask me, Crowfeather thought, Onestar just wants to get under ThunderClan’s fur. But he remembered Onestar’s warning. He couldn’t risk disobeying his Clan leader again, not after the disaster that had followed last time.
“That’s fine,” he responded to Harespring. “I’ll go find him now.”
Part of Crowfeather was pleased at the prospect of trekking up to the Moonpool with Kestrelflight; he and the medicine cat had always gotten along well. And it would be something to take his mind off Breezepelt and the stoats.
When he reached the medicine-cat den, Kestrelflight was waiting outside. He gave Crowfeather a friendly nod as he approached, and the two toms padded side by side up the slope and out of the camp.
“How is Featherpaw?” Crowfeather asked, feeling slightly guilty that he hadn’t been to see her since Bramblestar’s disastrous visit.
“Doing very well,” Kestrelflight replied cheerfully. “She’s still sleeping, but her breathing is much stronger, and her wounds are healing nicely. I’ve left Sedgewhisker with her while I’m at the Moonpool, but I’m not expecting any problems.”
“That’s good to hear.”
But the reassuring news about his apprentice wasn’t enough to distract Crowfeather from the hostile reaction he was likely to get from ThunderClan. “There’s going to be trouble behind this,” he murmured after a while. “You don’t need a warrior to escort you as if you were a kit. The other medicine cats won’t like it.”
“You mean Jayfeather won’t like it,” Kestrelflight meowed. “I wasn’t there when Bramblestar appeared with the other ThunderClan cats, but I heard all about it. I hate to say this about my Clan leader, but I think this time Onestar has it wrong.”
“Why?” Crowfeather asked, giving Kestrelflight a sharp look. “Have you had any more visions about the tunnels?”
Kestrelflight shook his head. “I’ve had some upsetting dreams,” he replied, “but I think they’re just dreams, not visions. Still, I’ll feel better when the stoats are driven from the tunnels.”
And that’s not going to happen without ThunderClan, Crowfeather thought.
For all his worries, it felt good to be padding across the moor, invigorated by the brisk wind blowing through his fur. The short springy grass was silvered by the light of the half-moon, with the stars blazing overhead in a clear sky. Crowfeather liked the idea that the warriors of StarClan were watching over them, caring for their Clans as they had when they were alive, sending their advice to the medicine cats through dreams and visions.
His pelt warmed as he remembered Feathertail, and the love for him that had shone from her eyes. Surely that was a true vision, and not just a dream?
“Tell me about your dreams,” he mewed curiously to Kestrelflight. “How do you know when they mean something, instead of just being nonsense?”
Kestrelflight’s tail curled up in amusement. “I suppose it’s part of being a medicine cat,” he answered. “But usually I just . . . know. I can feel it.”
For a moment Crowfeather was silent, thinking that over. Then he continued, “I’m not a medicine cat, so all the dreams I have are just nonsense . . . right?”
“Not necessarily,” Kestrelflight replied. “Dreams can tell us things, whether they’re a message from StarClan or not—perhaps things we’re trying to tell ourselves.”
Crowfeather shook his head, more confused than ever. For a while the two cats plodded on side by side, reaching the stream and following it up into the hills where the Moonpool lay. To Crowfeather’s relief, there was no sign so far of any of the other medicine cats.
“Tell me something, Kestrelflight,” he mewed at last. “Have you ever seen Ashfoot in StarClan?”
The medicine cat shook his head apologetically. “No, not yet,” he replied. “But we lost so many cats in the Great Battle. It doesn’t mean anything. I just haven’t seen them all.”
You haven’t seen her because she isn’t there yet, Crowfeather thought, remembering what his mot
her had told him. Which means it’s true . . . she stayed behind to visit me in dreams. He swallowed hard. Doesn’t that imply they mean something after all?
“I’m really sorry about Nightcloud,” Kestrelflight went on after a few heartbeats. “It must be terrible, not knowing what happened to her.”
Crowfeather nodded. He didn’t really want to talk about his former mate, but he was encouraged by Kestrelflight’s sympathetic look. He knew that the young medicine cat would listen without judging him. “It wasn’t right, our being mates,” he meowed hesitantly. “But I always assumed we’d have time to work out our problems and become friends. Now that can never happen.”
Kestrelflight let out an understanding murmur. “I hear that some of our Clanmates suspect that Breezepelt had something to do with Nightcloud’s death,” he mewed hesitantly.
Fury surged through Crowfeather and he lashed his tail. “No way is that true!”
“I don’t believe it for a heartbeat,” Kestrelflight assured him. “Breezepelt loved Nightcloud.”
Crowfeather nodded, his rage dying at Kestrelflight’s understanding. “More than any cat,” he responded.
A comfortable silence fell as the two cats padded on together, farther into the hills. The slope was growing steeper, and the stream they followed was narrower, its water turned to silver as it leaped from rock to rock. Its gentle gushing was the only sound except for the soft pad of the cats’ paw steps.
“I had an idea,” Kestrelflight went on after a while. “Do you remember, before the Great Battle, Dawnpelt of ShadowClan accused Jayfeather of murdering her brother Flametail?”
“Yes, of course,” Crowfeather replied, wondering why Kestrelflight was bringing that up now.
“Jayfeather found Flametail in StarClan,” Kestrelflight meowed, “and got him to tell the other medicine cats that Jayfeather was innocent.”
Suddenly understanding, Crowfeather halted and gazed wide-eyed at Kestrelflight. “Yes . . . ,” he breathed out.
“So tonight, when I dream my way into StarClan, I’m going to look for Nightcloud. If I find her, I’ll ask her to tell the others what really happened to her, and that Breezepelt had nothing to do with it.”