But it took only a few moments for Crowfeather to realize how stupid that would be. Leafpool hadn’t loved him for seasons, and if he was honest, his love for her had faded, too. If anything, he missed the way he had felt when he loved her — how young and foolish and hopeful they had been. Besides, asking the ThunderClan medicine cat to be his mate would be the quickest way to get himself banished from yet another Clan. Bramblestar won’t take kindly to my showing up, announcing my sudden loyalty to ThunderClan, and then taking one of their medicine cats.
It would never work. Besides, in ThunderClan he would have to deal with Lionblaze and Jayfeather, and StarClan alone knew how that relationship could be anything but a disaster.
Bramblestar probably wouldn’t want me… and I’m not a ThunderClan cat, he added, struggling not to feel sorry for himself. A hollow place seemed to open up inside him. I’ve been WindClan all my life. If I’m not a WindClan cat anymore, what am I?
Crowfeather reached the border stream and stood on the bank for a moment, unsure what to do. He bent his head and lapped the icy water, delaying for a few heartbeats the time he would have to move on. Then he turned and headed upward, away from the lake, away from ThunderClan, making for the open moor. He couldn’t stifle the memory of setting out from here with Leafpool, once, long ago, when he had believed that they could leave their Clans behind them and make a new life together.
I was so happy then.
But now all that was left to Crowfeather was bitterness. Leafpool had abandoned him to return to her Clan and her duty as a medicine cat. He had taken another mate, a cat of his own Clan, but he had never really loved Nightcloud, and his relationship with Breezepelt was clearly a mess. All that had remained to him was his Clan, and now that was gone, too.
I gave up so much for WindClan, he thought, and this is the way it ends. I spoke the truth to Onestar, and he banished me for it.
Crowfeather knew he was right: It was a mouse-brained idea to block up the tunnels and antagonize ThunderClan. But no cat had listened to him, or spoken up for him. Not even Breezepelt.
Some son he turned out to be! I must have had bees in my brain to think I could ever mean as much to him as Nightcloud did.
WindClan scent drifted into Crowfeather’s nose, and he realized he was approaching the border with the moorland. Beyond that was unknown territory. He halted on the border, but before he could take the final step that would cut him off from his Clan forever, he heard some cat calling his name.
Crowfeather turned to see Heathertail bounding across the moor toward him, with Breezepelt a few paw steps behind. His muscles tensed and he dug his claws into the ground as he stood waiting for them.
“What do you want?” he asked harshly as the two cats skidded to a halt and stood panting in front of him.
“Onestar led the Clan down to the tunnels to start blocking the entrances,” Heathertail explained, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. “We slipped away and picked up your scent trail.”
The bitter pain in Crowfeather’s heart eased a little, to think that Heathertail and Breezepelt had come looking for him, but he found it hard to respond. Breezepelt was standing a pace or two behind Heathertail, his gaze fixed on his paws, the familiar awkward, sullen expression on his face. He looked as if he didn’t want to be there, and at the sight of him Crowfeather’s heart hardened again.
“Why would you do that?” he snapped. “You care enough to chase me, but not enough to speak up for me in front of Onestar? Well, thanks but no thanks.” He turned and began to continue on his way.
“Wait!” he heard Breezepelt call behind him — a brief, desperate cry. When he paused and turned around, Breezepelt was looking at the ground — but Heathertail spoke.
“We’re sorry we didn’t speak up for you, Crowfeather, but you made it pretty difficult. You may have been right — but a loyal warrior still respects his leader.”
Crowfeather let out a derisive snort, but didn’t move. All right, he thought, I’ll hear them out.
“After you left, we talked to Onestar,” Heathertail went on, casting a faintly exasperated glance over her shoulder at Breezepelt. “We wanted to give him time to cool down. He was hard on you, Crowfeather, but you gave it right back — telling him you don’t need WindClan. Did you really mean that?”
Now it was Crowfeather’s turn to stare at the ground, clawing at an imaginary bug as though he were fascinated. At the time I did, he thought. But perhaps it was a flea-brained thing to say.
Heathertail shook her head, seeming frustrated, and went on. “You’re not always the easiest cat to talk to, Crowfeather. Anyway, I think he’s sorry that he lost his temper with you. If you came back to camp tomorrow with some prey and apologized to him, I’m pretty sure he’d let you back into the Clan.”
“Really?” In his relief, Crowfeather looked at Breezepelt, who still wouldn’t meet his eye. What, does he not want me to come back? Maybe he thought he was free of me… “What do you think, Breezepelt?” he challenged his son. “Is Heathertail right?”
Breezepelt scuffled his forepaws like an apprentice caught misbehaving. “Uh… I guess,” he muttered.
“I guess”? The worst of Crowfeather’s suspicions confirmed, his fury exploded. “It’s obvious to see who doesn’t want me back!” he exclaimed. “You’ve barely said a thing this whole time. You’re just following the cat you love, trying to impress her with your loyalty to your foolish father!”
Breezepelt looked up at him, a stung expression in his eyes. He’s embarrassed I caught on, Crowfeather thought. “And there’s no way I’m apologizing. I was right! And you both know it.”
“Yes, sure, you were right.” Heathertail’s voice was soothing. “As I said. Most of the Clan thinks it’s a mouse-brained idea to block up the tunnels. But you still disrespected your Clan leader, in front of the rest of the Clan.”
“Onestar deserved it!” Crowfeather snarled. Glaring at Breezepelt, he added, “It’s better this way. I can have the freedom I’ve always wanted, and you can be free of me. I’m leaving, and WindClan will never have to worry about me again!”
The two younger cats stared at him in silence for a moment. At last Heathertail mewed quietly, “What about looking for Nightcloud?”
“You can look for Nightcloud,” Crowfeather retorted, trying to ignore the guilt that settled over him like a cloud of dust. “She won’t want to see me anyway.” That’s probably true, at least.
“Of all the mouse-brained—” Breezepelt began angrily.
Heathertail shook her head at him and silenced him with a touch of her tail-tip on his shoulder. “It’s no use, Breezepelt,” she murmured. “Not right now.” Fixing Crowfeather with a sorrowful blue gaze, she added, “I’m sure there’ll be a way back for you, Crowfeather, if you want to take it. I hope that you do.”
For a moment the young she-cat’s sympathy almost made Crowfeather give in. Then he pictured himself creeping back into the camp and groveling in front of Onestar. No way will I ever do that!
“You’d better go,” he meowed curtly. “You don’t want Onestar to find out you’re missing. He’s in a lousy mood.”
“Okay,” Heathertail sighed. “Come on, Breezepelt.”
For a couple of heartbeats Breezepelt gazed at Crowfeather hesitantly, as if there was something he wanted to say. Crowfeather guessed that a word would have encouraged him, but he felt as though his throat were stopped up by a tough bit of prey, and no words would come. Finally Breezepelt ducked his head awkwardly; then the two young cats turned away and headed across the moor, back to the rest of the Clan. Crowfeather watched them go.