The rest of the cats watched her go, then turned to look at Crowfeather. Clearly, they were waiting to see what he would do.
Crowfeather wanted to join Heathertail in speaking up for his son, but his Clanmates’ hatred of the Dark Forest cats hung in the air like the reek of fox beside the pool where Nightcloud died. He felt burning in the depths of his belly, and a lump in his throat that stopped him from speaking.
Fighting on the side of the Dark Forest was wrong, but Breezepelt is still my son, even if we have never been close. How long can he be expected to go on paying for his past mistakes?
He stood gazing at his paws, then gave his head a helpless shake. He knew that Breezepelt had been loyal to WindClan ever since the Great Battle, but it hadn’t done him any good. His Clanmates would always look at him with suspicion. Maybe he’s doomed to always be an outsider.
Worry about Breezepelt threatened to overwhelm Crowfeather. His son had suffered more than any cat could be expected to take: the loss of his reputation, the attack by the stoats, and now the death of his mother. I don’t want him to turn out even more angry and wounded than he already is.
But Crowfeather had no idea how he could reach Breezepelt or comfort him. He realized that what he wanted was to go and discuss their son with Nightcloud. She would be able to comfort Breezepelt. But she’s gone now. Breezepelt only has me… his father.
A huge weight seemed to descend on Crowfeather’s shoulders as he admitted that he had no answers to offer Breezepelt, only more questions and doubt. And he had no answers to give his Clanmates, either. They were determined to distrust Breezepelt, and he wasn’t sure they entirely trusted him, either. Nothing he could say would change that.
Slowly he turned and padded away in the opposite direction from Breezepelt. It was time to talk to Onestar, and tell him that Nightcloud was dead.
Chapter 10
“Tonight, we will sit vigil for Nightcloud,” Onestar announced. “We will honor her as a brave warrior and a valued member of our Clan.”
As soon as the sun had risen on the day after Crowfeather’s discovery of the place where Nightcloud had died, Onestar had called a Clan meeting. He hadn’t been thrilled to learn that Crowfeather had sneaked onto ThunderClan territory, but his anger had softened when he’d learned of Nightcloud’s death. She was a beloved WindClan warrior, and the leader was clearly sad to lose her. The loss felt even worse coming on the paws of so many Great Battle deaths.
Every cat was subdued as they gathered around, and Crowfeather’s paws itched with restlessness.
I want to be out there doing something, not standing here listening to our Clan leader.
As saddened as he was by Nightcloud’s death, knowing that the stoats were still in the tunnels was worrying Crowfeather. He couldn’t forget Kestrelflight’s vision of the storm, suggesting that WindClan might almost be destroyed if they failed to deal with the threat. And he couldn’t stop thinking about how the wind hadn’t been enough to stop the flood. Does that mean we’ll have to involve other Clans? Is Onestar going about this all wrong?
At dawn that morning, Breezepelt had tried to leave the camp, intent on taking revenge by entering the tunnels alone and killing every stoat he found there. It had taken five cats to hold him back, and finally Heathertail had convinced him to wait. She’d told him they would take on the stoats, but to do that, they needed him at his full strength. He needed rest. He argued for a while, but eventually he gave in, and now Heathertail watched over him as he slept.
But what happens when he wakes up? Crowfeather asked himself gloomily. How do I help him deal with his grief, without running foolishly into an ambush of stoats? He had no idea. He hadn’t even spoken to Breezepelt since he announced that Nightcloud was dead, and he doubted that his son wanted his support.
“Now there’s one more task for me to do,” Onestar continued. “Hootpaw, Nightcloud was a good mentor to you, but she is gone, and you will need another cat to guide you through the rest of your apprenticeship. Gorsetail, you are a loyal and intelligent cat. I know you will pass these qualities on to Hootpaw.”
A look of pleased surprise spread over Gorsetail’s face. “I’ll do my best, Onestar,” she responded.
Crowfeather blinked at the gray-and-white she-cat, not sure how he felt about this. On the one paw, he was relieved to be back to one apprentice — training Featherpaw would be easier now. But on the other, Crowfeather couldn’t forget that Gorsetail had openly mocked Breezepelt and said he couldn’t be trusted. It seemed wrong, in a way, for her to take over Nightcloud’s apprentice.
Hootpaw was standing in the circle of cats, his head and tail drooping in dejection. Crowfeather knew he was grieving for his lost mentor. But when Onestar mentioned his name he looked up and gave his pelt a shake. As he padded over to Gorsetail and touched noses with her, he was clearly determined to do his best.
Even though training two apprentices had been a challenge, Crowfeather liked the sturdy, enthusiastic young apprentice. Gorsetail isn’t my favorite cat, but I’m sure she’ll try to be a good mentor for Hootpaw. And I’ll keep an eye on him, too — it’s the least I can do for Nightcloud.
“Harespring, it’s time to send out hunting patrols,” Onestar meowed, angling his ears toward his deputy. “But no cat is to hunt near the tunnels for the time being.”
A murmur of disapproval greeted the Clan leader’s announcement. Crouchfoot called out, “Are we just leaving that part of our territory to the stoats?”
“Certainly not,” Onestar responded with an irritated flick of his tail. “But we’ve lost Nightcloud, and some of our warriors are still bearing wounds from the last skirmish. I intend to wait until every cat is healed and strong again and we’ve had time to figure out what to do next. Meanwhile, I don’t want the creatures provoked. If they think that cats aren’t coming back to fight them, they might get lazy and careless — which means they will be easier for us to deal with.”
Crouchfoot shrugged and muttered something inaudible but didn’t protest again.
Onestar declared that the meeting was over, and Harespring began to organize the hunting patrols.
“Please, Harespring, can Hootpaw and I hunt together?” Featherpaw asked as the deputy padded over toward her and Crowfeather, who gave his apprentice a stern look. “That’s not for you to decide,” he scolded.
Featherpaw didn’t seem bothered by his rebuke; she kept a hopeful gaze fixed on Harespring.
“I don’t see why not,” Harespring mewed kindly. “I’ll go and tell Gorsetail, and find a couple of other cats to go with you.”
Crowfeather was just about to tell Featherpaw that an apprentice’s job was to do as she was told and keep her mouth shut, but he heard a low-voiced murmur from behind him.
“I still think it’s really suspicious, how Nightcloud went missing in the tunnels. I mean, no cat was there to see what happened… Well, no cat except Breezepelt.”
Crowfeather felt his muscles tense and every hair on his pelt start to rise. He had recognized Weaselfur’s voice, and he flicked an ear back to hear more clearly.
“Yeah, all that yowling and wailing this morning.” That was Leaftail’s voice. “It felt like he was just pretending. That’s suspicious, all right!”