by Erin Hunter
“Thank StarClan!” he breathed out, so relieved to see a familiar form that he had thought he would never see again. Nightcloud!
“Oh, she’s safe!” Breezepelt’s voice shook as he pressed himself up against the shiny barrier.
Then Nightcloud shifted in her sleep, the leaf-object bumping against her soft bedding. Crowfeather gaped in astonishment as he picked up the scent of a second cat, and saw that what he’d thought was bedding, like some sort of Twoleg moss, was another cat curled up in the nest with her—a fluffy white kittypet.
A kittypet tom!
CHAPTER 24
For a moment Crowfeather stood frozen, thrown seriously off balance by the appearance of the kittypet tom. Surprise flashed through him, along with a twinge of jealousy that he didn’t want to admit to. The excited murmuring of his Clanmates made him pull himself together. At least they were too focused on Nightcloud to have seen his reaction.
His companions crowded up to the barrier, banging against it with their forepaws. At last Nightcloud stirred, raised her head, then sprang out of the nest and bounded over to join them, her expression filled with the shock of recognition. The strange white leaf still clung to her neck, surrounding her face. Crowfeather supposed it was some Twoleg trickery that Nightcloud couldn’t take off.
The barrier was divided into two parts with a shiny strip running down the middle. There was a tiny gap between the two sections, and Nightcloud stretched her neck out of the white leaf and thrust her nose into the gap so that she could speak to her Clanmates.
“Well, you certainly took your time finding me,” she mewed, though Crowfeather could see from her shining eyes that she was happy and excited to see them.
Disturbed by Nightcloud’s movement and the noise of their meows, the white tom woke up and left the nest to pad up behind her. The grumpy look on his squashed-in face showed that he didn’t share Nightcloud’s happiness.
“Hello there,” he mewed. “What’s all this?”
Every cat ignored his question. Crowfeather didn’t spare him more than a disdainful glance, taking in his plump body and his long, perfectly groomed white fur. “How can we get you out of here?” he asked Nightcloud.
“This door slides open,” Nightcloud explained, waving her tail at the transparent barrier. “Maybe if we push . . .”
“It’s worth a try,” Breezepelt agreed, with an eager twitch of his whiskers.
“Hey, be careful,” the white tom warned them. “You mustn’t break our housefolk’s things. And who did you say you were, again?”
Nightcloud gave him a dismissive flick of her tail. “Not now,” she meowed. “I’ll explain in a moment.”
Crowfeather and the others pushed from outside, and Nightcloud from inside, but there was nowhere to get a grip with their paws, and the barrier didn’t move.
“This is no use,” Breezepelt mewed at last, huffing out a breath as he stood back. Crowfeather thought that his enthusiasm was waning, as if he was beginning to doubt that he would be reunited with his mother after all. “We need a different plan.”
“We need to get the Twolegs to open it,” Crowfeather responded.
“But the Twolegs will be asleep,” Heathertail pointed out.
“That’s right,” the white tom put in. “And they really don’t like it if we wake them.”
Crowfeather bared his teeth. “Fox dung to that. If we need to wake them, we wake them.”
“I know how!” Hootpaw squealed, bouncing excitedly. “I can yowl really loud!”
“Okay, then—” Crowfeather began.
He was interrupted by the white tom, who paced forward to stand beside Nightcloud. “Is all this really necessary?” he asked her. “Couldn’t you just stay with me? You know how dangerous it is out there. Just look at it! There’s snow on the ground!”
“Well spotted,” Crowfeather muttered.
“And look how long it took these cats to come get you,” the white tom went on. “Days and days! How much do they really care about you?”
Nightcloud turned slowly to face the kittypet and paused for a long moment. Crowfeather half expected her to give the interfering creature a swat on the nose, but her voice was actually friendly as she replied.
“I’m sorry, Pickle, but I always told you I’m a Clan cat. I belong on the moor.”
Pickle? Crowfeather thought. What sort of name is that for a cat?
The tom narrowed his eyes and let out a growl; Crowfeather glared at him through the barrier. Does he think Nightcloud belongs to him?
For a moment, Nightcloud stood still, giving him a thoughtful look. “Would you like to join me out there?” she asked eventually.
Join her in WindClan? Crowfeather was outraged, and he saw Breezepelt giving his mother a look of blank astonishment. What is she thinking of? He’s a kittypet! All that silly white fur would get tangled and matted with burrs.
Crowfeather had to admit he rather enjoyed imagining that.
To his relief, the tom turned his head away awkwardly. “I can’t do that,” he told Nightcloud. “It’s my job to guard the housefolk. That’s very important. I can’t just up and leave.”
“I can see that,” Nightcloud sighed, sounding as if she was genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry, then, but we’ll have to part ways.”
Crowfeather shook his head helplessly. I can’t believe I’m listening to this. “Right,” he mewed briskly, turning to his Clanmates. “Heathertail and Hootpaw, you make the loudest noise you can. We have to wake the Twolegs and make them open the door.”
“What about me?” Breezepelt asked. He still sounded doubtful that the plan would work.
“You and I are going to watch the Twolegs when they come down, and make sure that once the door is open, they don’t stop Nightcloud from coming out.”
Breezepelt bared his teeth and flexed his claws, determination driving out his uncertainty. “I can do that.”
“Yes, but don’t attack them unless you have to,” Crowfeather told him. “We don’t want to start more trouble than we can handle.”
Breezepelt stared at him for a moment, as if he felt like challenging his orders. He opened his jaws, then glanced at Nightcloud and clearly decided that protest wasn’t worth it; the most important thing was to get his mother back. He gave Crowfeather a curt nod.
“And me?” Gorsetail mewed.
“You can just keep a general watch, and pile in when you’re needed,” Crowfeather replied. “Are you ready, Nightcloud?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Okay.” Crowfeather’s gaze swept around the little group of his Clanmates. “Let’s do it.”
At once, Heathertail and Hootpaw threw back their heads and let out the most earsplitting caterwauls Crowfeather had ever heard. I wouldn’t be surprised if our Clanmates heard that all the way back in the camp!
Meanwhile, he and Breezepelt crouched one on either side of the transparent barrier, ready for when the Twolegs would appear. Gorsetail retreated into the shadows of a bush.
The horrible yowling had gone on for several heartbeats before light appeared in one of the gaps in the wall near the top of the Twoleg den. The Twolegs must have heard us, Crowfeather thought, his heart beating faster with anticipation.
A moment later, he heard the thump of heavy paw steps, and the space behind the barrier was lit by what looked like a tiny sun, up near the roof. A male Twoleg came into view, wearing some kind of long, loose pelt. A smaller female followed him, and stooped down, reaching inside the white leaf to give Nightcloud’s head a stroke. Crowfeather saw her stiffen under the touch, and guessed she was holding herself back from scratching.
“Come on . . . ,” Breezepelt muttered. “Open up.”
The male Twoleg did something to the shiny strip that separated the two parts of the barrier, then slid one of them back. He stepped out into the garden, yowling something and gazing around to see where the noise was coming from.
Nightcloud sprang to her paws and was about to slip
out when the white tom suddenly shifted, sitting back on his haunches and craning his neck upward. Crowfeather felt his neck fur rising as he guessed—too late—what the kittypet was about to do.
A heartbeat later, Pickle let out a caterwaul of his own, almost drowning out the racket from the garden. Immediately the female Twoleg turned toward him, scooping up Nightcloud as she went. Nightcloud struggled in her grip, but couldn’t free herself.
“That mange-pelt!” Breezepelt snarled. “He’s trying to mess up our plan so Nightcloud has to stay. I’ll slaughter him!”
Crowfeather blocked him in time to stop him from charging into the den to attack the kittypet. “No—if you go in there you might get trapped,” he meowed. “Then we’d have two of you to rescue. Right now, we have to get Nightcloud out.”
Breezepelt hesitated for a moment, then dodged around Crowfeather and darted into the den. Instead of attacking Pickle, he veered aside, leaping at the female Twoleg. She let out a screech, stumbling a pace backward. At the same moment Nightcloud wriggled, sliding out of her grasp and landing on the floor with a thump.
“Out! Breezepelt, out!” Crowfeather yowled.
He raced away from the den and the light that spilled out of it, into the shadows at the edge of the garden. Glancing back, he saw that Nightcloud and Breezepelt were following. The male Twoleg made a grab for Nightcloud, but she dodged him and pelted on, while Gorsetail ran between his hind paws, almost tripping him.
Heathertail and Hootpaw gave up their caterwauling and joined them as they fled, with Gorsetail bringing up the rear.
“This is fun!” Hootpaw exclaimed, his eyes shining.
Crowfeather felt a flash of irritation at the way the apprentice was enjoying all this. But then he reflected that at least Hootpaw was getting through a dangerous situation, and playing a useful part, without losing his nerve. What’s the point of scolding him?
As they reached the fence, Nightcloud turned back for a moment. “I’m sorry, Pickle!” she called back to the white tom.
The cats didn’t stop running until they had crossed the Thunderpath again and reached the outskirts of the forest. Then Crowfeather felt it was safe to slow to a walk, though he kept his ears pricked and his nose alert for any sign of the foxes.
Breezepelt was padding along close to his mother, their pelts brushing, hardly watching where he was putting his paws because his gaze was fixed on her. His eyes were full of concern for her, and relief at having her back. Crowfeather thought that they almost looked like a family, although he still felt apart from the two of them. Breezepelt had never looked at him that way. And Nightcloud had certainly never looked at Crowfeather with the love she felt for Breezepelt.
“What happened to you?” he asked Nightcloud. “How did you end up in that Twoleg den?”
“It’s a long story,” the black she-cat replied, scratching at the white leaf thing. “Before we go any farther, get this off me, will you? I can’t do it myself.”
Breezepelt and Heathertail teamed up, clawing and biting at the white thing until they finally tore it off. Crowfeather padded up to it and gave it a curious sniff. It carried Twoleg scent, and Nightcloud’s, but that didn’t tell him very much. “What was that for?” he asked.
“Pickle told me it was supposed to stop me from messing with my wound,” Nightcloud explained with a disdainful flick of her tail. “Like I’d be so stupid!”
Crowfeather twitched his whiskers with amusement. “Flea-brained Twolegs! They think we have the sense of a sparrow.”
Nightcloud sighed. “It’s maddening. Anyway, I was hurt fighting the stoats in the tunnels, and I got completely lost in there. When I finally came out, I realized I was on ThunderClan territory. I was trying to get back to WindClan, but when I stopped by a pool to have a drink, three foxes surprised me.”
“I found that place,” Crowfeather told her. “I smelled your blood and your fear. I thought you must be dead.”
“I thought I was headed for StarClan,” Nightcloud admitted. “I tried to run away from the stupid mange-pelts, but I was so hurt and tired they could have caught me easily.” She gave her tail an angry lash. “If the stoats hadn’t wounded me, no way would those foxes have gotten anywhere near.”
“But they didn’t hurt you?” Breezepelt looked completely horrified by his mother’s story.
Nightcloud gave him a comforting nuzzle. “No. They just made me go the way they wanted. I think they were playing with me. Or maybe if they can get their prey to their den on its own paws, they don’t have to carry it, right? I wanted to climb a tree, but I didn’t have the strength even to do that.”
Heathertail brushed her tail along Nightcloud’s side. “That sounds dreadful. How did you get away?”
Nightcloud gave her chest fur an embarrassed lick. “I hate to say this, but it was a Twoleg and his dogs that saved me. They were walking in the forest, and the dogs—two big, stinky things—frightened the foxes away.”
“Was that the Twoleg who took you back to his den?” Breezepelt asked.
“No, I ran away, too,” Nightcloud told him. “I met a cat called Yew at the edge of the forest, and—”
“I met him, too,” Crowfeather interrupted. “That’s how we knew to come and search for you in the Twolegplace.”
Nightcloud nodded. “Yew is a weird cat, but decent,” she mewed. “He’s the one who gave me the idea to go ask for help from the Twolegs. ‘Just wail pitifully,’ he told me, ‘and they’ll do anything for you.’”
“So what did you do then?” Heathertail asked.
“I took Yew’s advice and crossed the Thunderpath into the Twolegplace,” Nightcloud replied. “I reckoned the foxes wouldn’t dare follow me there. I ended up in the garden of that den where you found me.
“Those Twolegs took me to a den full of disgusting smells. The Twoleg that lived there gave me some kind of round white seed that made me go to sleep. When I woke up, she’d fixed my wound—look.”
Nightcloud turned to one side. Looking at her more closely, Crowfeather could see a patch on her side where the fur had been scraped away and was just starting to grow back. In the middle of the bare patch was a long wound, the edges fastened together with tiny scraps of tendril.
“Weird . . . ,” he murmured, giving the wound a sniff. “I wonder if Kestrelflight could fix wounds like that?”
Nightcloud shook her head. “Maybe. It seemed terribly complicated. Anyway, then the Twoleg medicine cat put that stupid white thing around my neck,” she went on, gesturing at the leaf with her tail.
“And then what happened?” Breezepelt asked. He was gazing at his mother with awe, perhaps at the story she was telling, perhaps still unable to believe that they really had her back at last.
Nightcloud shrugged. “Not much. The Twolegs took me back to their den, and I figured I’d stay there until I felt well enough to escape and come back to camp.”
Crowfeather hesitated. He couldn’t quite put his paw on what he was feeling, but he knew that he didn’t like thinking about the white kittypet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to the question he was about to ask. “What about that tom?” he meowed at last.
“Pickle?” Nightcloud let out a small mrrow of laughter. “He was my friend. He was nice, for a kittypet.”
Nice? A kittypet? Crowfeather stared hard at his former mate. How badly were you hurt? Or has the Twoleg medicine done something to your mind?
Clearly Nightcloud wasn’t prepared to say any more, and at last Crowfeather let his gaze soften. “I’m impressed you survived all that,” he declared.
“Of course I did. I’m a WindClan warrior, aren’t I?”
A slightly awkward silence fell as the cats padded wearily through the trees. Looking up, Crowfeather could see the tracery of leafless branches outlined more clearly against the sky, and realized that dawn was not far off.
How will Onestar react when I return to camp? He won’t be happy that I went after Nightcloud without telling him, and brought t
hese cats with me. . . . I can only hope he won’t be too angry with me when he sees we’ve brought Nightcloud home.
It was Nightcloud who broke the silence at last. “I’m surprised you came for me.”
Crowfeather’s heart clenched and he felt his pelt grow hot. Slightly stung, he repeated her own words. “Of course I did.”
“We never would have given up on you,” Breezepelt put in.
“I know you never would,” Nightcloud meowed, giving his ear a quick nuzzle.
A pang of jealousy and guilt shook Crowfeather as he watched his former mate and his son. He envied both of them, and their easy affection with each other. And Nightcloud was right . . . he had given up on her. He had been right when he’d thought that they weren’t really a family. I don’t belong with them. I wish . . . but it’s no use wishing.
The sky was glowing with the approach of sunrise by the time the WindClan cats crossed the ThunderClan border. Crowfeather explained how they had met Ivypool and her patrol on their way out, and had permission to cross on the way back.
Nightcloud looked unimpressed. “So that’s why you all stink of ThunderClan!” She gave a disdainful sniff. “I’m not sure I trust ThunderClan to keep their promises,” she added. “It’s best if we don’t meet any of their cats.”
Crowfeather agreed, and the patrol slunk cautiously across the rival Clan’s territory, making use of every scrap of cover. When they came in sight of the border stream, Hootpaw started forward, ready to dash up to the bank and leap across, but Gorsetail sprang in front of him and blocked him.
“Wait, mouse-brain!” the gray-and-white she-cat hissed.
Crowfeather halted and tasted the air. “The ThunderClan scent markers are stale,” he reported. “That means the dawn patrol hasn’t been along yet. I think it would be safer to wait until they’ve passed.”
Nightcloud nodded. “Good idea. And we could all do with a rest.”
Crowfeather led the way into the shelter of a bank of ferns, where he and his Clanmates crouched with ears pricked for the approach of the ThunderClan cats. Breezepelt and Heathertail settled down on either side of Nightcloud, masking her scent with the smell of ThunderClan that still clung to their fur.