“Private business,” Crowfeather responded.
Berrynose let out a snort of amusement, though Thornclaw remained serious as he glared at Crowfeather with narrowed eyes. “I think you’ve shared enough private business with Leafpool,” he growled.
Oh, for StarClan’s sake! Crowfeather forced his neck fur to stay flat. “It’s nothing like that,” he mewed defensively.
The two cats hesitated for a moment. Then Berrynose gave Crowfeather a brusque nod.
“You’ll have to stay there, on your own side of the stream,” he responded. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to escort you into camp just now.”
No, not after all the trouble at the Gathering, Crowfeather thought, trying not to feel insulted. It seems like every cat is feeling extra protective these days.
“That’s fine, thanks,” he replied. “I’ll wait here.”
The two ThunderClan cats disappeared into the undergrowth, heading for their camp. While he waited, Crowfeather found himself staring at the stream as it flowed lazily over the stony bed. There were times when he had seen it running faster, and the thought drew him back once again into Kestrelflight’s vision.
I don’t think the underground river would ever swell enough to surge out in the kind of flood Kestrelflight saw. The water must mean something else — but what?
Crowfeather pursued the answer as if he were stalking a crafty bit of prey, lying in wait for it to show itself, but for all his efforts he was no closer.
“Best give up,” he growled aloud, though no cat was listening. He gave an annoyed flick of his tail as he wondered if he really did need to take on the responsibility for his Clan’s survival.
Crowfeather hadn’t waited for long before the undergrowth parted and Berrynose and Thornclaw reappeared. Crowfeather felt a tingle of excitement in his pads at the thought of seeing Leafpool again. While his feelings for her had changed over time, he knew he could count on her to understand the urgency of what he had come to say.
Then the ferns parted again. He stifled a hiss of irritation as he saw that the cat who appeared wasn’t Leafpool.
It was Jayfeather.
“I said I wanted to see Leafpool,” he meowed, gazing at the ThunderClan cats in confusion.
“We weren’t too sure about your private business,” Thornclaw explained. “Besides, Leafpool was busy, so we figured Jayfeather would be fine.”
A furious retort rose to Crowfeather’s lips, but he bit it back. He had experienced enough awkward encounters with one son; he wasn’t prepared for another.
The two warriors withdrew, while Jayfeather padded up to the bank of the stream and leaped across as confidently as if he could see the edge. Crowfeather was impressed to see how capable his blind son was. An odd kind of affection swelled inside him, but he knew that he’d played little part in Jayfeather’s life. It’s no thanks to me that he turned out so well.
Jayfeather’s ears were pricked, and the fur on his shoulders was beginning to rise. He didn’t look any happier than Crowfeather felt.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Whatever it is, it had better be good. I’ve interrupted my duties to come to see you. I don’t like being summoned as if I’m a lazy apprentice.”
Crowfeather fought against an impulse to turn around and go home. Jayfeather was difficult and gruff at the best of times. With all that had been going on, it wouldn’t be easy to ask him for help.
But I’m like that, too, he admitted to himself. Perhaps I have passed down something to this kit.
Crowfeather remembered his dream, and the good advice Feathertail had given him. He knew he had no choice but to give it a try.
“I want to talk to you about the stoats,” he began. “WindClan hasn’t been able to deal with them at our end of the tunnels. In fact, they’re a much bigger problem than we thought at first.” He hesitated, scraping at the ground with one forepaw. “The truth is, Jayfeather… WindClan needs ThunderClan’s help.”
Just as he had expected, Jayfeather gave an angry lash of his tail. “Then why did Onestar insist on handling it himself? And why didn’t he come with you and ask to talk to Bramblestar?” His ears pricked suddenly in a gesture of astonishment. “Does Onestar even know that you’re here?”
“Well… no,” Crowfeather confessed, expecting that Jayfeather would refuse to say any more.
Instead, to Crowfeather’s surprise, Jayfeather seemed almost impressed, a rusty mrrow of amusement coming from his throat. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that,” he meowed. “So Onestar is still insisting on coping with this alone… Doesn’t he realize that if the stoats get bolder and stronger around the tunnels, it’ll be a threat to ThunderClan as well?”
“Of course, but—” Crowfeather broke off as Jayfeather interrupted him.
“We’ve extended our patrols, and we haven’t seen much of the stoats on our side lately. I assumed they had gone for good, but obviously they haven’t.”
“No, and the problem on our side is pretty bad,” Crowfeather admitted, with a renewed pang of regret as he thought of Nightcloud’s death. “We thought we could handle it on our own, but we underestimated the stoats, and that was a mistake. Besides, I’m getting the feeling that they’re more than just a pest.”
“Why is that?” Jayfeather asked.
“You were at the Gathering,” Crowfeather replied. “You heard what Kestrelflight said, about the vision of water emerging from the tunnels, water that could flood the Clans’ territories? I’m beginning to think that the stoats are part of that.”
Jayfeather said nothing, but Crowfeather could see from the tilt of his head that he was listening intently.
“What if the stoats are a small problem,” he went on, feeling slightly encouraged, “but one that would leave the Clans vulnerable when faced with a bigger challenge?”
Jayfeather rolled his sightless blue eyes. “After everything that happened with the Dark Forest,” he mewed, “you think StarClan is going to try to frighten us using stoats? You should leave the prophesying to the medicine cats.” He half turned away, as if he was about to leave.
Crowfeather did his best to ignore the jibe. “It’s the Great Battle that has me worried,” he responded, desperate to make Jayfeather listen. “That showed me that all our tussles over territory until then had been minor. I never expected that the Clans could be pulled into a conflict that claimed so many lives. If it happened once, it could happen again.”
Jayfeather let out a snort; clearly, he was still unconvinced. “And a bunch of stoats are really going to start the next Great Battle?”
“They could,” Crowfeather insisted. “It’s not so far-fetched. The stoats have already killed one cat and seriously injured another. And they’re getting bolder every day — maybe because we’re still gathering our strength. They’re fast and spiteful, and that makes them deadly — and there are a lot of them. Even if all the WindClan warriors went up against them at once, we would still be outnumbered. WindClan and ThunderClan need to work together, for the good of both Clans — and maybe ShadowClan and RiverClan too.”
“But Onestar hasn’t changed his mind?”
“No,” Crowfeather admitted. “Onestar still won’t hear of cooperating. The idea will have to come from… some other cat.”
Jayfeather’s whiskers arched in surprise. “You are sticking your nose into a bees’ nest, aren’t you?” He hesitated for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Bramblestar about it. He’s reasonable; he’ll probably take this seriously.”