Crowfeather raised his head. “I know,” he mewed, sadness rising inside him like a flooding stream. “I feel the same way. We have to go and help our Clans.”
He could see the relief in her eyes as she pressed her muzzle against his. He wished they could stay that way forever, but much too soon she let out a purr and meowed, “Let’s go.”
As they trekked across the moorland toward home, though neither one of them said it, Crowfeather realized that he was losing another mate — not as terribly as he had lost Feathertail, but just as finally. Leafpool was choosing to return to her Clan because they needed her, needed their medicine cat, and that meant that Crowfeather’s only option was to reunite with WindClan. He imagined what it would feel like, walking back into a camp he’d never expected to see again. Everything would seem foreign to his eyes; he himself would feel like a stranger.
If they’ll even have me, he thought bitterly. They all know where I went, and why, and they’ll blame me for leaving. There’ll be questions about my loyalty, that’s for sure.
“I’ll never forget what we shared,” Leafpool murmured as they approached the stepping stones that led across the stream into ThunderClan territory. There was grief in her face, but a set determination that was stronger.
“Nor will I,” Crowfeather responded. Halting at the edge of the stream, he pressed himself against Leafpool’s side, and parted his jaws to taste her scent for the last time. I’ll miss her so much, he thought. Her softness, and her strength and courage. And how we could play together as if we were no older than kits again…
Leafpool pushed her nose into his shoulder fur. Her amber eyes were full of love for him.
But it’s not enough. She doesn’t love me enough. Her heart lies here, with her Clan. She’s so loyal… I just wish that she could be as loyal to me.
“Good-bye, Crowfeather,” Leafpool whispered. “I’ll see you again when all this is over.”
“What do you mean, ‘good-bye’?” Crowfeather made his voice harsh. Otherwise he would have started wailing like a lost kit. “I’m not leaving you when there are hostile badgers around.”
“But you need to warn WindClan,” Leafpool protested.
“I know, and I will. But I’ll see you to your camp first. It won’t take long.”
Leafpool didn’t argue with him. But as he followed her across the stepping stones and into the trees, Crowfeather knew that he was only prolonging their anguish.
That’s it, he thought as he raced along. As Leafpool disappeared into the thick undergrowth, he knew that he would never be with her this way again. They would cross paths during Gatherings and other Clan business, but they’d have to keep their distance, as if they’d never loved each other at all. He couldn’t bear to imagine how much that would hurt. He couldn’t think of anything worse. If he was lucky, maybe a badger would tear him apart.
If I do survive, he thought, I’m finished with love. It only ended in pain and loss, an ache in his belly as if he’d swallowed jagged stones. From now on, he vowed as he forced himself to follow Leafpool, I’ll only worry about my duty to my Clan. No more love — not ever again.
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.