Chapter Text
Crowfeather loved his clan.
It was the first thing Ashfoot poured into him.
Hidden within the soft confines of a nursery that no longer existed, he was lulled to sleep with a thousand little wishes and prayers for the kind of warrior he'd grow to be.
Brave, fierce, vicious in all arenas, and none more so than love.
His love guided him through the majority of his life, sharpening his claws and quickening his strides as he defended and fed his clan day in and day out. His love had been a hook in his chest, tethering him firmly to his homeland with every step he made to the very edge of the earth and back. His love had been every fresh push of air in his lungs when his softest of dreams had gutted him and left him for dead.
Even now, at perhaps his lowest point, he remained in camp because it was never his love that his clanmates questioned.
He didn't love his clan for its ideals, like a Thunderclan warrior might, or for its power the way Shadowclan warriors did, his love has always been simpler than that.
Not unselfish, he'd come to find no love was truly unselfish.
But he loved it for uncompromising, uncomplicated reasons. For the way Barkface stole a moment right before dawn to check over each and every clanmate, counting slumbering bodies with bleary affection. For how Onestar fetched Morningflower her breakfast so that she could remain out of the chill. For Breezepaw's notorious nest-thieving, how his son spent every morning untangling himself from whichever exasperated cat had served as his bedding in the night.
Crowfeather didn't often spend time contemplating love like some freshly mated fool, but it was important to impress that he meant this with the greatest of fondness.
These were not the spiteful fox-hearts he had known his whole life.
Certainly, Crowfeather was getting a predictably frosty reception everywhere he went, but Jaypaw had been riding a miraculously long success streak all morning, charming his way into the good graces of every mangy wretch that crossed his path.
Some had been easy-won victories. Morningflower had taken one look at Jaypaw's disastrous coat and spent several minutes sitting on his son, carefully grooming the squirming hellion with the patience only a queen possessed.
Flustered and fluffy as a fledgling chick, Jaypaw had squeaked out an introduction and fled to the next clanmate before she had the chance to do more than purr.
In his wake, Morningflower spared an indulgent glance toward Crowfeather, wry amusement on her face.
"You did the same thing when you were his age."
But the generosity hadn't stopped with Morningflower.
When his son trotted up to the icy-eyed Weaselfur next, he had anticipated bristling fur and sharp retorts and the rest of the morning spent easing Jaypaw's bruised ego.
It had certainly begun that way, Crowfeather sat at a neutral distance, watching the volley of snide remarks fly overhead, each increasingly more antagonistic than the last.
"You should probably stay in the nursery until you're done growing, owls like picking the scrawny cats off first."
"That's by the elder's den right? I could walk you back to your nest while I'm there."
Weaselfur was as young and temperamental as they came. Crowfeather knew it was only a matter of time before he grew fed up with Jaypaw and stormed off for his place in the morning patrol, already the tom's white-tipped tail was twitching with his blackening mood.
"I think I've seen enough of you going places, if I also wanted to drag you around like a dead rabbit I would've done so last night."
"I'm surprised you missed a chance to find out what that feels like, I could even pretend to be half-dead by disease so your success might be plausible."
If Weaselfur didn't snap first, Jaypaw was swiftly reaching the end of his own tether. He'd kept surprisingly cool, the budding roots of a wicked sense of sarcasm had tempered him, but now his glare had taken on the venom his tone belied.
"No need to pretend when you already look the part," Weaselfur sneered, "Just as slow and useless as any other Thunderclan cat, I bet you'll go crying back to Firestar before the moon is out."
There it is, Crowfeather could spot the moment Jaypaw lost his composure. Where the caustic mask shattered and he couldn't hide that Weaselfur was reaching him any longer.
He pulled himself into a stretch to warm up his limbs, easing off the chilled grass to make his way to his son's side.
Whitetail would be a good pick for his next introduction, she knew how to field a kit's wounded pride better than most-
"What are you- get off, get off, get off, get off!"
Crowfeather stopped mid-step, almost teetering over as his entire body came to a crashing halt.
Blood iced over right in his veins as his very small, very new son dropped Weaselfur's tail like a dead leaf, shiny white fur clinging incriminatingly to his tongue.
Crowfeather stared.
Jaypaw had just lunged and bitten the tom in the middle of camp, in the middle of their very first exchange.
The brat stood perfectly still after the fact, ears pricked to attention as he patiently waited for the full-grown Windclan warrior to recover and decide his fate. Weaselfur was bent near in half fretting over his tail, but it wouldn't distract him for long.
From one heartbeat to the next, Crowfeather was in front of Jaypaw, ears pinned and pelt burning.
"I'll speak with him," he said quickly. Weaselfur glanced at him with murder in his eyes.
There was no blood on his tail, thank Starclan, but that didn't mean he wouldn't demand a pound of flesh for it anyway. Of all the cats to bite it had to be their vainest tom, glossy white and ginger and ferociously protective over both.
"I'll send him back to the medicine den and he'll apologize later-"
Weaselfur shouldered Crowfeather out of the way, storming straight to Jaypaw with a terrifying purpose, he hadn't seemed to have even heard him speak.
The only thing that stopped Crowfeather from throwing himself back in front of his stupid son to save his life so that he might kill Jaypaw in private later, was what came out of Weaselfur's mouth seconds later.
"How did you do that?" He demanded hotly, "My tail was moving, there's no way you could've caught it."
Jaypaw huffed as if his every breath wasn't a mercy Windclan warriors weren't prone to granting. As if an infinitely gentle elder hadn't overpowered him with ease that very morning.
This was his punishment, Crowfeather was sure. He'd been warned when Jaypaw had bitten him in total isolation in the middle of the woods and he had still taken the scrap of fur home with him.
Starclan had given him these sons as punishment for his every past misdeed, it was the only explanation.
"I could still hear it, I'm not deaf as well," Jaypaw sneered.
Weaselfur, in an act of restraint Crowfeather had not once believed him capable of until this moment, disregarded the kit's abysmal manners and lashed his tail out again.
"Do it again!" He said, and it had to be a trap, some blatantly obvious taunt to get Jaypaw tossed out of camp in record time.
It was the kind of command no cat in their right mind would listen to if they wanted to make a good impression, but Crowfeather couldn't find it within himself to be surprised when Jaypaw immediately obliged.
Instantly, Jaypaw's bright blue eyes flicked back and forth, tracing after the unseen tail. His ears stilled even their most minute tremor and his whole body tensed, Weaselfur's tail swished back and forth smoothly, once, twice, and then-
"Ouch! Let go!" He yelped, and Jaypaw once more unlatched his needle fangs. Crowfeather's own tail throbbed in sympathy.
"Told you," He said smugly, and Weaselfur scoffed.
"Don't get cocky, I was practically waving it in front of your face. Do it again!"
This time, Weaselfur moved with his tail, trotting in small circles and spirals, a pounce's distance from Jaypaw.
He moved as though he'd smacked himself silly running into a tree, but his attention was solely on Jaypaw's furrowed face, far too invested to care. Crowfeather hadn't a clue why, the whole morning had left him behind and it wasn't coming back.
With ears trained on Weaselfur's erratic maneuvers, Jaypaw waited.
It took longer this time, Weaselfur passed him once, twice, thrice, and then twice more. A whirlwind of motion where Jaypaw remains completely statuesque. Only his eyes moved, blindly following after his focus.
On an unseen cue, Crowfeather spotted the rapid dilation of his pupils, the sudden intake of breath, the slightest of tenses in the narrow breadth of his haunches.
Then, Jaypaw leapt.
It was a sloppy pounce, he clearly hadn't a lick of training. All clumsy kitten legs and unbalanced flailing. He missed the tail, teeth clacking together loudly.
Stubbornly, his ears were still pricked and his eyes narrowed in concentration. Before he touched the ground, he twisted his head and caught the very tip of Weaselfur's tail as it flicked away from the lunge. Jaypaw held on tight to his prize when he hit the ground in an artless tumble, victory flashing across his expression.
Weaselfur spun to face his son, anger curling his lip, "How?" He hissed, "There's no way, I- hold on-"
Still completely ignoring Crowfeather, he stomped around him, back to his nest.
"Owlwhisker!" He called, "Owlwhisker, come look at this!"
It was at that moment, that Crowfeather also remembered how close they were to the center of camp. In his certainty that Weaselfur was seconds from ripping Jaypaw in two, he had lost track of just how exposed the entire scene was.
In one slow, horrible shift, his attention peeled away from his son and back to the rest of his clanmates.
Last he had checked, they were mulling about their day in quiet, sleepy peace.
Some cats were still sleeping, Owlwhisker was dead to the world and his brother looked ready to kick him awake. Morningflower and Barkface hadn't yet surfaced from the elder's den, Ashfoot was busy arranging patrols with Onestar, and his other son was still curled up tight in his nest.
Like the worst kind of nightmare, however, every other cat in Windclan was unabashedly staring directly at Jaypaw.
Gritting his teeth, Crowfeather followed desperately after Weaselfur.
If Onestar didn't toss Jaypaw out as soon as someone reported this incident, Crowfeather was going to drop him back in the lake where he found him, where he clearly belonged.
"Look," Crowfeather snapped, "You're a warrior, you're fine. There isn't any reason to bring more cats into this-"
Weaselfur barely spared him a glance. "Stop talking, I'm going to scare the stripes off of Owlwhisker right now and you better not tip him off."
He pointedly switched positions to lean away from Crowfeather and more accurately bat at his brother's face, but it had been unnecessary.
Crowfeather didn't pursue him, instead, he found himself backing off with eyes wide and head buzzing. An understanding was slowly, slowly dawning on him, strange and yet perfectly obvious now that he was looking for it.
"Owlwhisker! Get up, I need to show you something!"
His brother stirred, thin yellow slits peering out into the blinding morning light. Almost immediately, he made a face of great distaste.
"What?"
Weaselfur bullied the dazed cat to his paws and marched him up to Jaypaw, that same scowl fixed on his face. The scowl he often wore around his brother while they were bickering, promising violence, and utterly lacking the conviction to carry it out. Crowfeather felt like an idiot.
He wasn't angry with Jaypaw, he was impressed.
Like a fever dream made real, Crowfeather watched Jaypaw attack his clanmates with bloodthirsty fervor, leaping for Owlwhisker's tail and sending him shrieking to the ground. Weaselfur cackled and heckled his brother until the tom furiously dared Jaypaw to land another hit, and it began all over again.
He didn't want his son to be scorned by his new clan, and yet he found himself casting desperate searching sweeps, looking for any cat that didn't appear visibly satisfied with Jaypaw's ridiculous display.
Crowfeather found none.
Whatever Onestar's opinion of Jaypaw's attack might've been, it was clear this would never reach his attention. The thought didn't seem to have even crossed their minds.
Instead, all Crowfeather could see were the thinnest tendrils of acceptance creeping through his clanmates. And it had only taken waking up to their single half clan member tormenting one of their own in broad daylight.
Perhaps Jaypaw was more suited for Windclan than even he had foreseen.
Like the strangest of initiation ceremonies, that was all it took for cats to come to Jaypaw and introduce themselves first.
His monstrous son took this all in stride, absurdly bright-eyed as he learned the names of his clanmates and something of their personalities in brief snippets of greetings. Jaypaw babbled like a brook the entire time, in the highest spirits Crowfeather had seen him.
Webfoot gave him gruff pointers on his pounce, Harepaw shrieked when Jaypaw attempted to practice those pointers on him and sprinted right back to his nest for cover. Webfoot hissed for Jaypaw to go join a patrol and stay out until he was quieter, as crotchety with apprentices as Morningflower was doting
It was an undeniably sweet sight, his clan coming together and making an effort to treat Jaypaw as they would any other member of Windclan.
It was the kind of scene most warriors would melt over, deeply touched for their kin.
Crowfeather gawked.
"You're going to catch flies like that."
From the corner of his eye, Barkface ambled to his side. His whiskers were crooked and there was residual sleepiness in his yellow eyes, but none of that softened his typically curt demeanor.
The old medicine cat shot him an impatient look and that's all it took for Crowfeather's teeth to click shut.
Appeased, Barkface dropped into an arthritic sit beside Crowfeather and observed Jaypaw's welcome with a flick of his ear. He watched their newest addition stalk Weaselfur for a moment, displeased, but not for the reasons Crowfeather expected.
"Is this what all the fuss is about?" He yawned, "Leaf-bare was far too kind on you all if you're still capable of this sort of excitement so early in the morning."
"It's Jaypaw," Crowfeather said helplessly, "I don't know why, but they're humoring him." Even as some cats left to pick up their first meal of the day or hunt down Ashfoot for patrol schedules, more remained to watch his son's antics.
Barkface snorted, hunching from the scene in an attempt to keep his laughter trapped between the two of them.
Just what did he find so amusing about any of this?
The medicine cat made no attempt to hide that it was Crowfeather himself who inspired his bout of humor, raspy chuckles scraped past his teeth in bursts and his whiskers twitched uncontrollably with mirth.
Whatever incomprehension Barkface read in Crowfeather only seemed to make it worse, he ducked his head between trembling shoulders, wheezing louder and louder until he sounded more like a goose than a cat. All the while, Barkface's eyes glittering unashamedly into his own.
"And why wouldn't they?" The tom cried breathlessly.
Crowfeather frowned, "He's not the easiest to get along with, that I've seen-"
"Well, they're already quite used to that."
Bewildered now, Crowfeather stared at the medicine cat, were they talking about the same prickly little weed?
"No they're not, he's only just meeting them right now," he said.
Barkface laughed again, even more mockingly than before, "He didn't very well pop out of the ground today, did he? Look at their faces."
He shoved his head into Crowfeather's shoulder, filling his mouth with fur reeking so strongly of herbs his eyes watered. He pushed Crowfeather closer to the cats still chatting with his son.
Blinking back burning tears, he watched for whatever Barkface saw plainly.
The crowd had dwindled now, down to Webfoot and Heatherpaw who both conversed easily with Jaypaw and lacked any morning responsibilities to call them away.
Heatherpaw was an inquisitive she-cat, her curiosity for other clans would've pushed her to speak with Jaypaw regardless of his social grace. He had dismissed her contributions immediately.
However, upon closer inspection, there was hardly any polite curiosity in her spinning ears and playful flash of fang. She looked to be teasing instead, bold in the way she never was at gatherings.
Webfoot, mistrustful only the night before and acerbic in his own right, shouldn't be anywhere near Jaypaw, shouldn't want anything to do with him.
He looked irritated now, scolding his kit in growls and snaps, rebuking any time Jaypaw's mew rose about the clamor of camp. His frosty blue eyes narrowed with every obnoxious chirp Jaypaw made, there was no new love between the two.
Initially, it was merely that Webfoot had remained at all that had confused Crowfeather. Now, though, an additional peculiarity came to his attention.
Admonishments weren't all Webfoot was growling, there were beats where his flat ears perked and his gaze went wide with recollection. Certainly, at no point did he appear to enjoy speaking with Jaypaw, but he never appeared to enjoy speaking to apprentices he was instructing.
"Have you noticed yet?" Barkface asked.
Crowfeather stared back, more confused than ever.
"They're acting as if they know him. I don't…"
Barkface sighed as though it physically pained him to be clearer, "Truly? Not a single theory comes to mind?"
Interest in what the tom had to say abruptly plummeted, was he just being toyed with?
Ice clung to Crowfeather's next words, "Though I may be stuck in camp for the time being, I'm not here for your entertainment, Barkface."
The medicine cat chuffed again, but the teasing gleam in his eye ebbed.
"Your father was the exact same," He grumbled, "Prickly as a burr and twice as troublesome. I'm well used to it and so is every cat in camp, so you can stop looking so tense."
He tapped Crowfeather with his tail, something a bit like censorship a few shades too wry on his graying face, "You have plenty to worry about, mind you, but this clan is familiar with what antics to expect from kits with something to prove."
"You didn't see what he was doing to Weaselfur earlier," Crowfeather said.
"And I doubt I need to, I see what your other son does. The wind runs wilder in some cats, it's not the wind you need to fret over."
The murmur of conversation in the center of camp trailed off and Jaypaw's antics came to a slow, lumbering halt.
From behind Tallrock's shade, between one beat and the next, Onestar's mottled pelt shifted into view. Ashfoot was by his side, nimbly following him up to the highest crest of the boulder in two bounds.
Nightcloud trailed behind a few moments later, head high and amber eyes glittering in the morning sun. She placed herself beneath Tallrock, utterly still and controlled.
At least, until she noticed Crowfeather watching her.
The carefully crafted dignity splintered as soon as their eyes connected across the camp, as sudden and electrifying as a thunderbolt. Her lip curled in a crude greeting snarl, violence glinted like sunlight off her claws as they shredded through the grass underfoot.
A shiver crawled up Crowfeather's spine.
"What you need to fear is much worse," Barkface mused.
"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Tallrock for a clan meeting!"
Onestar stood high above his clan, eyes sharply critical as he waited for them to amble to attention before the boulder.
He was immaculately groomed for his announcement, whiskers neat and pale tabby stripes shining in the bright morning sun.
In contrast, more than one of the cats crowding Crowfeather in had nest debris clinging to their backsides and cowlicks threatening to outperform Breezepaw.
Daylight had crested past their hills and still, many cats looked half asleep.
Crowfeather wondered how many of his clanmates had laid awake with him last night, quiet under the twinkling pelt of Starclan. How many bleary eyes had been peering up in the privacy only darkness could afford? How many ancestors had leaned down and listened to their worries?
He hoped some of them had heard his own, that even one was watching him and his kin kindly right this moment.
Once the last of Windclan's stragglers found their place, Onestar began.
"I'm sure I don't need to remind anyone that we have…discrepancies remaining from last night."
At once Crowfeather's pelt burned under the side-eye of every cat in attendance, he took a deliberate, steady breath under the weight.
"Windclan has two apprentices in need of ceremonies before morning patrols can officially begin, so let's handle those right now. Heatherpaw, come forward."
The young she-cat let out a squeak, hurriedly shuffling to the very front. Her fur was raised anxiously, but there was no hiding the eager shine in her eyes.
Crowfeather looked down.
"Heatherpaw, you were named an apprentice not long ago. Starclan willing, your next mentor won't force you to go through this a third time."
A new, more excited hush fell over the clan, every cat seemed to hold their breath at the same time. A beat, one more, and Onestar spoke.
"Weaselfur, step forward."
Crowfeather's head shot up, catching the ginger tom's smug grin as it ripped across his face uncontrollably.
He leapt before Heathertail, his whole body thrummed with a deep purr as he presented himself before his leader and clan, bright and proud as a newleaf tulip.
Crowfeather watched from a place that felt very far away, a distance of hills rather than pawsteps. He was somewhere colder and emptier, where the cheer of his clan sank straight through him and into the chilled ground below.
He recalled a similar pride when he had been chosen, a trembling elation that gripped his lungs in a squeeze. Had he looked that foolish and preening during his own ceremony, he wondered.
It was difficult to remain grateful to the tom on Jaypaw's behalf the longer his demeanor carried on, must he be so obnoxiously happy? One would think Weaselfur had earned his apprentice through some great deed rather than poaching her from a clanmate's scandal.
Moments later Weaselfur was proudly touching noses with his very first apprentice, whiskers twitching as he swiftly pressed forward to butt heads with the she-cat.
Heatherpaw gave a laugh that was almost immediately drowned out by the wave of congratulatory meows from all sides, Owlwhisker in particular made it a point to be as loud and irreverent as possible for his brother.
Given her very warm reception from her new mentor, Crowfeather was perplexed when Heatherpaw pulled away to approach him instead. What could he possibly say? Freshly disgraced as he was, stripped of any right to her time or respect.
Well-wishes were expected of him, he was sure, but he found them curdling right on his tongue.
With a grimace he tore his eyes away, staring down at the ground between them.
"You…were a good apprentice," He said.
"You were a good mentor," Heatherpaw breathed.
Crowfeather stiffened.
"Your next apprentice will be a lucky one, I was."
Crowfeather remained in place, gaze fixed blankly. He didn't know what to say. Truthfully, he doubted Onestar would give him an apprentice ever again, but she said it so confidently. As if he hadn't sunk even a sliver in her esteem, as if it hadn't even occurred to her that he should.
Before he could swallow past the ache in his throat and drag something free, Heatherpaw brushed past him affectionately, a stripe of warmth against his side. Wordlessly she sank back into her excited clanmates' embrace, abandoning him with her words.
Maybe, he thought dazedly, maybe it was a good thing she had a new mentor now. What on earth could he have done with a cat so eager to cut to the heart of him like that?
No upstart apprentice had the right to that kind of bald compassion, especially not one who lacked even the pity to grant him a moment's composure for a response.
He peeked at the she-cat, huffing along good-naturedly to something teasing Weaselfur said.
Envy cured, he shook his head. They deserved each other, not a drop of consideration between the two.
In the privacy of his mind, Crowfeather sent a prayer to Starclan, a small and sincere wish for an apprentice no longer his own to watch over.
"Jaypaw, step forward."
With Heatherpaw back among the ring of Windclan onlookers, his son was once more separated. Jaypaw crept under the height of Tallrock, blind eyes searching out Onestar high above. The tom watched him coldly, an owl's unblinking sentry stare.
"We have yet to be introduced, I am Onestar, leader of Windclan."
Onestar waited until Jaypaw nodded slowly, then continued.
"Last night, your father came before me and begged your entry into my clan. You are here now because I humored him. However, it's your responsibility to convince me you belong. Do you understand?"
Again, he waited for Jaypaw to respond. This time his nod was much firmer, the challenge only lighting up his stubborn spirit.
If this disappointed Onestar, he didn't show it. "Then, for now, you will be Jaypaw of Windclan. Every cat in this camp is now your clanmate and I am your leader. We will feed and shelter you as Windclan does all its members and your mentor will show you how to do the same."
When Onestar paused Jaypaw nodded again.
"I promise I won't let you down," He swore.
Onestar flicked an ear, blatantly unimpressed. He didn't respond, shifting his attention to the right of Jaypaw.
"Nightcloud, step forward."
The she-cat prowled to stand before Jaypaw, her inky fur and powerful build made her a striking contrast to his small silver son. In the shade, Jaypaw appeared as though he were being apprenticed to living shadow, amber eyes and a sprawling shape against the grass.
They considered each other for a moment, pensive.
"Nightcloud, you have served your clan excellently. You have shown yourself to be loyal and enduring and you are ready to take on an apprentice. You will be the mentor of Jaypaw, and I expect you to pass on all you know to him."
Nightcloud's stare didn't waver as she nodded, face unreadable as she considered the kitten in front of her.
At this point in any ceremony, mentor and apprentice would touch noses and it would end, quick and perfunctory. Crowfeather had never witnessed one where the process lingered, slowing to a painstaking crawl as nothing immediately happened following Onestar's closing words.
The longer Nightcloud's silence went on, the stiffer Jaypaw became. The downy fine fur against his neck rose and he pulled himself up straighter and straighter, as though attempting to meet her gaze head-on.
Gradually, like ice on the river, something in her…didn't quite melt but gave ever so slightly.
She let out a breath and stepped forward, dipping her face to gently press noses with her new apprentice.
Jaypaw visibly started at the contact, but rallied, eyes shining with triumph as he leaned forward to return the gesture.
The cheer was far less enthusiastic compared to Heatherpaw's, but there were few sour faces among the cats who came up to congratulate Nightcloud and Jaypaw. How much of this was due to the sympathy his mate had garnered with their clanmates or the goodwill Jaypaw had generated earlier, only Starclan knew.
Crowfeather gave himself a shake and trotted up to his son with a rumbling purr.
"Congratulations," He said quietly.
Jaypaw grinned up at him, smugness oozing from every pore.
"Just you wait," He crowed, "I'll be a warrior before you know it."
Crowfeather studied his son, just as overjoyed as Heatherpaw had been to be granted a mentor once more. He didn't have the same luxuries as the popular little she-cat, however, and Crowfeather couldn't allow him to relax quite as fast.
"You still have a lot to prove," He cautioned, "Obey Nightcloud, keep your head down and try to appease her temper as often as possible."
"You speak of me as though I'm some fearsome taskmaster."
Nightcloud neatly cut Jaypaw off from him, stepping into Crowfeather's space with murder in her fanged smile.
He drew himself up, ears flattening.
"I was just telling him to be on his best behavior," He began.
Nightcloud's grin hitched even higher, teeth fully bared as she cut him off.
"Of all the cats in this camp to lecture my apprentice on behavior, the very last to volunteer should be you."
She turned away from him, flicking her tail against his nose as she leaned over Jaypaw instead, still blocking him from view.
"The dawn patrol is leaving now, follow close to me so I can point out landmarks without scaring away prey," she said flatly.
Her lukewarm attention mattered little, it seemed, for Jaypaw lit up regardless. He bounced back into view with his tail straight as a flag and chest puffed out, his sightless eyes swung straight for the camp's entrance with unerring accuracy.
Without a word, he was bounding for the cats collecting there, Tornear at the lead. One would think they were about to take flight with the way Jaypaw scurried to their side, sparing not a moment's consideration for anyone in his path.
Crowfeather watched him leave, feeling oddly abandoned. The brat hadn't bothered to even say goodbye.
With a sigh, he shifted his attention to Nightcloud. The she-cat was still facing away from him, but she didn't follow after Jaypaw.
He didn't know why she remained behind, she didn't seem as though she had anything else to say. Still, so long as he had her ear.
Crowfeather leaned in, an eye on her flicking black ears.
"He- Jaypaw will be sore after yesterday," He said, "Be careful not-"
Nightcloud erupted into a furious hiss, whipping to face him with claws out and curved viciously into the earth.
"Is that all you have to say?" She demanded, "Can all you think about is him?"
Crowfeather lurched back in alarm, tail lashing.
What did she expect from him? Constant groveling? He could be sorry all he wanted but they both had responsibilities that couldn't be ignored in favor of fighting every moment of the day, he couldn't simply curl fretfully under her threats like a bullied apprentice.
Heat quickened his pulse as he glared at her, "I made my apologies last night, Nightcloud. Right now I need to be sure-"
This time he truly dodged a blow, the air whistled in his ears as he twisted out of the way of a slash right below Tallrock.
"What is the matter with you?" He growled, prowling off to the side, out of range and wary.
"Starclan help me, Crowfeather. You better think long and hard about what you say next," Nightcloud followed him, stance low and pupils blown wide with fury, "Have you not a single care left for the son you've left behind?"
For one, deeply bewildering moment, Crowfeather thought on Lionpaw. His golden Thunderclan son, back in his mother's clan with his mother's trespasses hanging over his head. At that moment, pain flared bright and high in his chest.
He hadn't wanted to leave him or his sister behind, walking out of that camp with only one of his children safe at his side had been a dazzling sort of torment. One that left him deaf and dumb with the blow of it, how could she believe he'd done that willingly?
The moment passed, the pain faded, and Crowfeather allowed himself a moment's more reflection. He found that it didn't fit. Why would Nightcloud concern herself with Lionpaw and Hollypaw? It was too disparate, her contempt for his elopement and now that he hadn't brought home even more children.
Crowfeather considered his mate once more. Spitting mad, incandescent for the sake of a son.
Nightcloud had a maternal touch, a softness for kits that bordered on adoration. Regardless of clan or kin, he knew this to be true.
However, it was truer still that Nightcloud was a creature of rage at her core, an ever howling tempest just beneath her bones.
These two facets, rage and love, fueled everything she was, it was her beating heart in a way he understood more than Leafpool's sweet softness, in a way he could bring himself to trust all those moons ago. Yet hardly did it ever meet in scorching tandem, divided in all cases except one.
All at once, he understood.
"Breezepaw?" He murmured at last, "but I haven't left him. I'm still here."
She scoffed but didn't pursue him further, her claws sank back below her inky fur. He'd answered correctly.
"In what way? You haven't spoken to him once since dragging your new son before Onestar, you haven't even acknowledged his existence," she said coldly.
He reared back, stunned.
"I did this for him! For all of them! They deserve to know their kin, Breezepaw included. He must know that!" Crowfeather protested.
The look of disbelief on Nightcloud's face stung, did she truly think he had brought Jaypaw to Windclan without his other son in mind? Did Breezepaw?
"Perhaps," Nightcloud said, "If you could tear yourself away from Jaypaw and speak to Breezepaw, you might tell him any of that. All he knows is that his father spent the night watching his new son sleep rather than speak a word to him."
"Jaypaw was in the medicine cat den, I-"
Nightcloud cut off his words immediately, "And spent the morning as far away from him as possible."
Crowfeather stared, guilt creeping up his gut at a nauseating crawl.
Was it true? Had he so badly read his son? He thought Breezepaw might appreciate the space, the freedom to consider all that's happened and approach either Jaypaw or himself when he was ready.
Isn't that a reasonable thing to expect?
Self-doubt thundered overhead, was that truly why he stayed away? Had he even allowed Breezepaw to approach? Crowfeather hadn't dared look too closely at his son all morning, but whether it was for Breezepaw's sake or his own suddenly seemed so foggy.
Nightcloud's anger had been expected, something he was more than prepared to endure right alongside Ashfoot's disappointment. But if it were Breezepaw, his tiny face as cold and hard as his mother's, if it were Breezepaw who turned him away, could he weather the blow as easily?
"What's that useless look on your face for?" Nightcloud demanded.
"Is it truly so difficult to understand? Do you need me to spell out what you should do next?"
Crowfeather scowled, however weakly, at his mate.
"I understand, okay? I'll speak with him." His attention flicked to the dawn patrol, late and shuffling impatiently at the front for Nightcloud to join them.
"You should go, they won't wait much longer."
Nightcloud growled, unsatisfied. He was right, however, the patrol was already markedly late with Onestar's morning announcements, if she held them up any longer they would leave her behind.
She withdrew, turning neatly away from him. Still, she didn't leave. Nightcloud paused in her tracks, face hidden again. What else could there be to say?
Crowfeather waited with trepidation as she shifted, peering one amber eye over her shoulder. She watched him for a moment, not unlike the way she watched Jaypaw during his apprentice ceremony. Contemplative, if it weren't for the temper lurking below.
Finally, she said, "Speak to him before I return," and walked off.
"I don't need to be threatened into it," He sighed, but she was already out of earshot.
He watched his mate join the patrol, reaching Jaypaw's side with smooth and steady steps. As soon as she and Tornear’s eyes met, they were gone, disappearing over the hills and long grass beyond the camp.
Crowfeather was alone, cold in the shade of Tallrock.
Breezepaw was easy to find. Free of morning duties and rudely disturbed for the apprentice ceremonies, he had immediately headed for his nest afterward. The lazy kit was the only cat remaining now, a lone lump of dark fur in the wide array of moss and down that made up the communal nesting area.
Crowfeather watched his son with some satisfaction, tracking the slow rise and fall of his belly, the way he pressed himself into his bedding in lieu of another clanmate. He was dead to the world, a collection of blue-black cowlicks and soft snores.
Perhaps Nightcloud had been incorrect, what kit could sleep so peacefully if he was entrenched in turmoil?
Crowfeather crept closer, nosing his son's face to gently rouse him.
"Breezepaw," He murmured, "Wake up."
It didn't take much for the kit to stir, but he did so with a fearsome scowl.
"What now?" Breezepaw hissed groggily, pressing his face deeper into his nest as though he could burrow away from his father.
"We need to speak," Crowfeather said, giving him another nudge.
Breezepaw abruptly stiffened, he was so close he could hear the way his son stopped breathing for a moment, holding still before letting out a tense breath. He rose from his nest with ears flat against his head and eyes even flatter.
"I just remembered," He said hollowly, "I need to go collect moss for the elders' den."
Crowfeather scoffed, "No you don't," He began, but Breezepaw was already leaving.
Crowfeather watched him go, eyes wide. Breezepaw was prone to sulking and fits of ill-temper, but manifesting it in icy indifference was an ability he'd never possessed before.
When his son was upset, he made it known to the entire camp- loudly. Crowfeather couldn't begin to guess the number of times he'd begged his bratty kit to be quiet, to walk away rather than self-combust. Of all the times to learn that grace, it had to be with him?
Crowfeather shook his head, he could mope later, clearly, he needed to explain himself properly.
Bounding beside Breezepaw, he leaned in close.
"I'll join you. We need to speak about what-"
Breezepaw shouldered past him as roughly as he could for being significantly slighter, a rising crest of fur on the back of his neck betrayed his agitation.
"You can't," He said, "You're not allowed outside the camp."
Crowfeather stepped in front of his son, blocking the camp entrance and halting the kit's stiff march.
Leveling a glare, he pushed Breezepaw back.
"You aren't allowed outside camp either, you don't have your mentor with you or another apprentice to help. Now stop being difficult and listen to me-"
Breezepaw turned away coldly, an eerie mirror of his mother. Without a word of acknowledgment, he stomped up to Whitetail sunning on a nearby boulder.
"Breezepaw, get back here," Crowfeather snapped, but all he got in response was the further creep of rising hair down his son's back.
Why fight it? Why not scream at him the way he obviously wanted to? At least then Crowfeather would have the opportunity to take him aside and defend himself properly, to explain that Jaypaw was an addition and not a replacement.
"Whitetail promised to take me hunting today," Breezepaw said shortly, "Right, Whitetail? You said you'd teach me to hunt birds today."
Whitetail rose to her paws, eyes huge and uncomfortably sympathetic as she peered down at them both.
A rush of embarrassment crashed over Crowfeather's head, she definitely heard him calling after his own son. He'd chased Breezepaw straight to his mentor like an obnoxious tag-along and still, he was being ignored in front of her. Pathetically, all he could do was stare up at her, trying not to look too pleading.
Whitetail hopped off the boulder in a fall of snowy fluff, brow furrowed as she gazed at her apprentice.
"I did," She said, "But I had thought you'd want to start later in the day. We usually start lessons after the sun has warmed the ground a little more."
That sort of gentle nudging would never work on Breezepaw, Crowfeather's heart plummeted even as his son let out a predictably impatient growl.
"It's plenty warm already, let's go now!" Breezepaw yowled and, as respectfully as he was capable, began to herd his mentor to the camp entrance.
Whitetail looked helplessly between the two of them, clenching and unclenching her jaw as she visibly searched for a reason to withdraw from the lesson before it even began. Crowfeather couldn't bring himself to say anything, trailing after them just in case she managed to escape Breezepaw's attention.
"But, Breezepaw," She stammered.
Before she could rally a response, Breezepaw slowed, and the flat pin of his ears loosened into a much more vulnerable droop. The prickle of fur down his back eased down, shrinking his silhouette infinitely smaller than it should be.
Abruptly Breezepaw looked nothing like his mother in a fit and everything like a kit who would rather be anywhere else. He looked like Crowfeather hadn't been irritating him, but actively hurting him sitting so close.
"Please?" Breezepaw asked the grass below his paws, voice smaller than he probably meant it to be, "Please can we just go?"
Whitetail shot Crowfeather a deeply regretful look, but her apprentice came first.
Crowfeather looked away, turning his back as he listened to the white she-cat murmur her assent and gently lead his son out of camp and far out of reach. Their paw steps faded out of earshot without falter, without any sign that Breezepaw looked back.
Crowfeather didn't move for a long time, that choking churning distress from yesterday rushing in his ears. He took slow breaths, swallowing it down as swiftly as he could. He couldn't fall apart like that again, he didn't need to. It wasn't so dire, Breezepaw had given him a cold shoulder before.
He would be fine, he was being mousebrained. He just needed to remind himself of that, that his family wasn't shattered before he even had the chance to properly piece it together in the first place, that his children weren't lost to him just because every single one of them had now gone where he was forbidden to follow.
They would return, some of them would return to his side just that day, and the other two weren't lost forever. Just until Onestar deigned fit to allow him in Gatherings again, however long that took.
He would be fine, the first step was wrestling his thundering, aching heart back to a quieter beat, just so he could hear anything over the roar of it.
He panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the painful stretch of his lungs inside his ribcage, against the crushing weight of his idiotic worries.
He would be fine.
From beyond the clamor of it all, a presence approached from his right. Without a word, a cat stepped into his space until their pelts almost brushed with every ragged exhale. Crowfeather kept his eyes shut, wrestling himself still breath by breath.
Whoever it was sat still, not attempting to comfort him, but close enough that he had something to focus on besides the sick dread he was treading through. They remained, silent and unidentified.
Crowfeather ducked his head from their line of sight, chin to chest, right above the gradually slowing thrum of his pulse. Breathing in and out, in and out, digging his claws into the soft earth for purchase.
He was fine, he'd just been thrown off guard. Breezepaw's genuine upset a lance he hadn't known to dodge until it had pierced him through, but he was fine.
Gradually, raw and shaky, he pulled his head up, and looked into the amber eyes of Onestar.
His leader met his gaze, unflinchingly close. He peered into Crowfeather's expression carefully, shrewdly, and Crowfeather didn't have the energy to shutter away whatever was being read so plainly on his face.
They sat in silence, a tired, thin sort of atmosphere that hung too limply for awkwardness but provided no comfort. Crowfeather didn't speak, waiting to see why the tabby tom chose to approach.
Finally, Onestar sighed.
"This is your doing," He said simply.
Crowfeather blinked back, "What?" He croaked.
"All this turmoil, it could've been so easily avoided if you hadn't been greedy."
Onestar was cold, but he didn't look mocking, sincerity gleaming amidst the cruelty in his gaze.
"I know- I know I shouldn't have run away with Leafpool," Crowfeather said, the faintest sparks of anger kicking up amidst the dregs, "I said as much. It was a mistake."
"It was," Onestar agreed, "But that isn't why you're here right now, alone."
Crowfeather stared, he didn't understand.
Onestar sighed again, glancing away to take in the rolling hills cloistering their camp.
"Running away was a mistake, but it was one you'd been forgiven for the moment you returned. You had a mate, a son, clanmates to hunt with, everything more than restored. But you got greedy, that is why you're here. You did it to yourself."
Onestar glanced back at him, something almost like pity in his eyes, "Self-destructive to the last, Crowfeather."
Crowfeather was speechless, he surged to his paws, backing up from the mottled tom's side.
"You believe this to be self-destruction? Nothing was restored, how can you- I only didn't know what was missing until I knew the truth. Jaypaw's place is here with his kin, as is mine. That is restoration," He spat.
Onestar frowned faintly, "You can't be that naive," he huffed, "You think dragging that kit in front of our clan was good for anyone's sake? You shattered your own family. Your mate despises you, you're an embarrassment to your mother's legacy, and your son won't even look at you. All you have left is a kit who doesn't yet know enough of what you've done to him to resent it."
Crowfeather gaped, almost too horrified for those sparks of anger to catch alight under his pelt, almost. He burned brighter and brighter as he absorbed all his leader dared to say.
Onestar looked increasingly irritated as Crowfeather failed to agree with him in some unfathomable way. The tom scowled and turned back to the hills.
"If you can't bring yourself to admit that, you should at least understand now that dragging this entire affair into the light was a mistake," He said haughtily.
Crowfeather abruptly decided he couldn't listen to another word of the poison pouring from his leader's tongue.
"If that's how flimsy you believe my kin to be, then you're mistaken, Onestar," Crowfeather hissed, white-hot fury strangling his voice. The tom didn't look back, but Crowfeather didn't need him to.
He prowled up Onestar, hackles raised and teeth bared. Their eyes connected, cool gold to blazing blue.
"My family is stronger than that- your clan is stronger than that. And they all deserve better than ignorance," Crowfeather said.
"Stealing away my kits' heritage, their claim to me and their brother, was Leafpool's choice. It was never mine. They deserve a future beyond the cowardly designs she or you might want. I'm righting past wrongs, nothing has been destroyed."
Onestar studied him quietly, pinched with displeasure. He hardly flicked an ear at Crowfeather's overwrought display, utterly unmoved.
After a moment's deliberation, he let his tail wrap neatly around his paws, "Is that what you're telling yourself," he asked almost gently, "That, in breaking yourself off from one family, you are honoring another? You can't have it all, Crowfeather, you're only ensuring the destruction of both."
Crowfeather felt like screaming, he felt like shaking Nightcloud and Onestar and himself until none of them dared wonder that he was wrong, until every doubt had been dashed away and all he had left was the right and true path forward.
"You aren't listening," He rasped, and if he was talking to Onestar or the universe itself even he wasn't certain, "It isn't either-or, it isn't replacements or choosing. Hear what I'm saying! There has only been one family! Cleaving it down the middle doesn't make it two, it just makes it half."
He was panting again, hot and cold in flashes, but it was different, it was better. Anger and frustration were infinitely more useful than that tangled messy swamp of panic from before, unspeakably galvanizing.
Because when he said it out loud, he knew he was right.
It was as if he'd dashed that swamp away, dug past it to unpolluted groundwater below, a crystal clear clarity.
It had only been a day, he'd only been stitching his family back together for all of yesterday and this morning. How arrogant could he be? To be discouraged when some pieces needed more care than others, more than a day's worth?
He hadn't shattered his family, no matter what Onestar might think, it had already been shattered. Discovering the scope of it, the damage in need of tending, was the only way to find his path forward.
Bringing Jaypaw to Windclan wasn't the conclusion of any single mission, merely the beginning of Crowfeather's tasks. Thanks to Nightcloud, he knew the second task ahead of him, the next step to have it all.
Locking eyes on the entrance before him, the worn trail hemmed in by tall, swaying grass, he decided he wasn't going to wait meekly for his son to return on his own. Breezepaw was just as much his as Jaypaw, and he was worth just as much stupid recklessness on his father's part.
Restrictions be damned, he was going to-
"Crowfeather!"
Crowfeather almost fell flat on his face, halting even as half his body had begun to spring past Onestar. Smarting and confused, he scrambled to straighten himself as Ashfoot bounded over to both of them.
She looked enraged, jay-blue eyes hardened to ice chips on a face chiseled from stone. She didn't blink, and the closer she got the more Crowfeather realized all her anger was honed in on him alone.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" She hissed, "All that you've done and that's the tone you choose to take with your leader?"
Crowfeather, cowed, hunched away from his mother and Onestar sitting smugly behind her.
"You didn't hear what he was saying-" Crowfeather started resentfully, but Ashfur lashed a tail to cut him off.
"I don't care! If all he has to share are a few harsh words, you should be grateful," She growled.
Onestar brushed by Ashfoot's shoulder, sharing her space as the both of them stood above Crowfeather, staring him down.
Crowfeather looked away, seething.
"It could be that I shared a few," Onestar murmured, "unwelcome truths. It seemed distressing for him."
It was neither an apology nor even a proper defense, but Ashfoot let out a gusty breath.
"Still, if all you can do in camp is kick up trouble like an unruly apprentice, it's time to put you to work."
Humiliation roiled in his gut when Crowfeather peeked back at his mother, flint-sharp and aggrieved simultaneously. He ached to dare her to keep her cool after hearing exactly what Onestar had felt inclined to share, to watch her accept that condemnation with any sort of grace.
"Go fetch moss for the elders' den," Ashfoot said, "That should keep you busy."
Onestar hummed, less convinced.
"He'll need someone to go with him and he isn't allowed far."
Ashfoot nodded as though that were an agreement, "We'll go immediately then, I'll keep a close eye on him."
Onestar didn't look assured but he didn't say anything further. Under his amber stare, Ashfoot shoved Crowfeather to get him walking and the two of them trot out of camp side by side.
Crowfeather was furious, he wanted to turn around and make Onestar understand that Ashfoot's scolding changed nothing. He didn't regret any of it, nor should he.
He also didn't want to be anywhere near his mother, but that was a sulkier thought, one he wasn't interested in airing in case she spoke to him like a misbehaving kitten again.
They walked in stilted silence, past warrens and shrubs until they were off the main path to camp, trailing off into the lesser-used brush. Slowly, Ashfoot came to a halt.
Crowfeather followed her lead, peering grudgingly around for any clump of moss she might have found. There was none, just the dry grass and muddy slopes that made up their moorlands.
He glanced at her, "What do you expect me to do?" He grumbled.
Ashfoot glared at him, "I expect you," She said archly, "to go speak to your son."
Crowfeather stared.
The she-cat gestured off to the cluster of heather a hill or so away, "If you need help tracking him, Whitetail and Breezepaw are that way."
"How did you know?" He asked, baffled. He'd resigned himself to waiting until Ashfoot was satisfied with his punishment, he hadn't even tried to scent out where his son had gone once they were underway. What had given him away?
Ashfoot looked impatient, "Did you think you were subtle? If I had hesitated a moment longer you would've all but demanded Onestar make you a rogue. What do you think would happen if you ran out of camp in front of him like that?"
Crowfeather was quiet, marveling at his mother.
"So, back there, you were pretending to-"
"Oh, I'm angry with you," She cut almost conversationally, "I expect better from you than that kind of useless half-baked planning. What good would you have done blundering across Breezepaw with half the clan thinking you were running away?"
He grimaced, "I wasn't running away though, I just wanted to speak to him."
"And I still don't care. It was stupid, especially arguing with Onestar like that when you're already-"
This time, Crowfeather was the one to cut her off.
He refused to hear Ashfoot agree with Onestar, to hear her cave to clan pressure like that. She had raised him like this, had instilled in him all that cried out now for justice. He couldn't bear to hear her recant that in his presence.
"I don't regret it," He gritted out, "Not for a moment, no matter what anyone has to say."
Ashfoot gazed at him, quiet. It was only now that Crowfeather noticed how much she'd thawed since standing in front of Onestar.
No longer was she carved from granite, now her eyes were dark and attentive, her face composed of a more familiar shade of contemplation. She looked like she was listening to him, hearing what no other cat today has heard.
All at once, Crowfeather wanted her to speak, to say anything in response to that. How badly he wanted any cat besides Jaypaw to approve of what he's done, any warrior with a warrior's understanding of all he's upturned, to see the scope of it and not care. It was childish to yearn so badly for his mother's validation, he didn't truly need it. And yet.
Ashfoot took two steps forward, nose to nose with her son as he waited on bated breath.
A warm tongue laved against his forehead, brief but tender, swift strokes and tickling whiskers. His eyes shuttered closed and he leaned into his mother's administration despite himself. She brushed a cheek against his, a rasp in her breath.
When he opened his eyes she was there, watching him.
"Good," She said fiercely.
Benediction was a ray of sunshine against his face, a startled purr beneath his skin. He blinked at her, confused but breathless with relief.
"But you said you didn't care," He mumbled.
Ashfoot brushed against him before pulling back, regarding him steadily.
"And I still don't," She said, "The warrior I raised should be too intelligent to make himself a liability, what should either of us care if Onestar doesn't personally approve of what you've done? What matters is that you believe in what you're doing and that you do right by who you love."
"And," She added after a moment, sharper, "That you don't get turned out of Windclan before you can see any of it through."
Properly chastised now, he bowed his head.
"I won't," Crowfeather swore.
Ashfoot nodded firmly, before shifting away from him. Once more, she was the stern second in command, tenderness neatly shuffled away.
"Then go speak to Breezepaw and don't take too long," She said, "You still have that moss to gather.
Crowfeather huffed a laugh. Of course, she wouldn't gather it for him. Cover though it may have been, the punishment was genuine. Ashfoot wouldn't break rules, merely stretch them where it pleased her. As soon as he was done with his son, he would have to do exactly what Onestar expected of him for his outburst.
He dipped his head, wry and grateful, and looked to where Breezepaw's scent was strongest.
He and Whitetail had gone hunting birds, and to that direction lay a dependable spot for fatter sparrows. Where tall bushes provided sparse cover from predatory birds and a refuge from which to eye the ground for loose seeds and insects, and where his approach would be hard-spotted until he was right in front of his son.
Crowfeather set off.
When he spotted Breezepaw, dappled gold and shadowy black in the bush-filtered sunlight, the apprentice was crouched in wait.
A few paw steps from his nose was a busy little bird, flicking and fluttering through the undergrowth, unaware of the pair of massive amber eyes boring a hole in its back. Even as Breezepaw slowly adjusted his stance, shuffling his haunches in the dry grass to gain better purchase, the bird suspected nothing.
Crowfeather slowed to a stop, sinking to the ground to avoid tipping off either his son or the bird, and watched.
Ever impatient, Crowfeather only needed to wait for a few heartbeats before his son pounced, gaining a healthy amount of height as he came down on the little bird and its busywork.
With a shrill chirp, it flinched away at the last second and burst for the open skies, a dark spot against blue, and then vanished in a flash.
Breezepaw landed with a growl, bracken clinging to his fur. He slinked from under the bush to Whitetail, neither yet noticing Crowfeather.
"It was a very good attempt," She said brightly, "your pounce has improved a lot."
"I still didn't catch it," Breezepaw grumbled.
Whitetail didn't dim a single degree, nodding in agreement with her little rain cloud of an apprentice.
"You didn't, the timing might've been hasty on that one. But at the rate you're going, you'll be bringing home a bird today."
Breezepaw peeked at her, a little too shy for the pout to stick in place.
"Yeah?" He asked.
She let her feathery tail fall across his pelt, knocking dead leaves and grass loose in affectionate sweeps.
"Yeah."
Breezepaw drew himself up, scowl nailed to his little face. With utmost concentration, he stalked back under the bushes and waited for another bird to land.
Ashfoot was waiting for Crowfeather's return, there wasn't enough time to hang back and stall for a perfect moment to approach Breezepaw. However, he didn't have it in him to interrupt his son's lesson.
With a brief apology to his mother, he hunkered down in wait with Breezepaw as songbirds wandered teasingly in and out of range, testing the ground.
Breezepaw was frozen in place, ears rapt to attention, tail stiff behind him as he watched them hop to and fro. Crowfeather looked on in amusement as his son's eyes danced from one bird to the next, indecisive and overly eager for one to land in just the right position.
Eventually, a brave little sparrow made that decisive hop too close. Breezepaw's pupils shrank to mere slits and with one shuffle, two, he leapt again.
He clipped the little thing with a paw as it surged from the bracken, knocking it off course but not completely out of the air.
Crowfeather saw the desperation flash across his son's expression before he twisted and used his other paw to land a second blow. It landed solidly, felling the little bird, but also ruined his pounce in the process. Breezepaw sailed through the grass in a tumble of leaves and limbs.
Whitetail struck like a snake, biting down on the bird before it could recover, and then ran to Breezepaw's side.
"Are you okay?" She demanded, nosing her apprentice to his paws and checking all over for scrapes or sprains.
Breezepaw yanked himself away, wild-looking. His pelt was a ruin of undergrowth, his fur was more cowlick than cat as he stumbled past his mentor and to where the bird lay.
As soon as he caught sight of his catch an uncontrollable grin broke across his stormy face. "I got it!" He yowled.
Breezepaw whipped around, carelessly flicking the largest of the bracken off his coat in a rain of debris. Whitetail dodged the dry grass as best she could, a little smile fighting with the look of consternation she was trying to achieve.
"Did you see, Whitetail?" He crowed, "Right out of the air!"
She sighed, giving up.
"Well done, Breezepaw," She said warmly, "That was quite the catch."
While his son was distracted mooning over his prize, the she-cat darted forward and started neatening up his fur as best she could. Brushing all but the most stubborn burs away, she worked as quickly as she could within the confines of his good mood, but there was no saving the lay of his coat.
"Next time," She murmured, "we'll need to work on proper landing."
Breezepaw snickered, squirming out from under her to strike a heroic pose.
"It's all part of the rough and tumble of being a warrior," He insisted.
Soft chuckles rang through the cluster of bushes, silencing their chatter as both mentor and apprentice startled. Crowfeather didn't care to entirely suppress the amusement bubbling past his muzzle, he could already picture the look on Nightcloud's face when Breezepaw strutted back into camp with his bird and half the moor trailing behind him.
Not being able to hide any longer, Crowfeather rose to his paws and stepped into view, ducking under low branches until he was face to face with Breezepaw and Whitetail.
"That was a very good catch," He said, "you did well."
For one fleeting moment, Breezepaw lit up like a star under his praise. The prideful little scrap loved nothing more than bringing back his achievements for both Crowfeather and Nightcloud to admire, even now he couldn't tamp it all down.
Still, a shadow fell across Breezepaw's expression in the next moment, followed swiftly by outrage.
"What are you doing here?" He cried, "You're not allowed outside of camp!"
Crowfeather dipped his head in greeting to the worried-looking Whitetail before turning to his son.
"I was sent out to collect moss, Onestar himself gave his approval," Crowfeather assured, not even really lying.
Breezepaw let out a wordless noise of disgust and spun away from him, "Well, there's no moss around here! Just go!"
Silence returned to the brush, the birds long gone. Crowfeather worried his jaw and weighed his options. He knew what he had to do, but doing it was a different beast altogether. How best to make his kit understand what he had done?
Turned away as he was, Breezepaw couldn't see the frustration and determination chasing itself in circles behind Crowfeather's eyes, but Whitetail could.
She gave a great huff.
When Crowfeather peeked over at her she was staring at him in bald exasperation and rightfully so, if he were being honest. With a wince, he silently vowed to hunt her down the plumpest rabbit in their borders for being forced to mitigate for his family yet again.
Whitetail would always be a soft touch, incapable of a grudge so long as Crowfeather has been alive. Even just that minute show of contrition was enough to coax sympathy into her expression.
The she-cat blinked back at him, and then gracefully twined around both Crowfeather and Breezepaw, oh so gently steering them a touch closer as she made her way past them.
"I'll go catch a few more birds nearby," She decided, "Crowfeather, I leave Breezepaw in your care while I'm gone."
"What?" Breezepaw shrieked, utter betrayal in every overdramatic line of his body. "You're my mentor! You should be the one watching me, not him!"
Whitetail shot him an admonishing stare, quelling the kit just a touch.
"So quick to remember you're my apprentice until I tell you to do anything," She grumbled, "I mean it, Breezepaw, if you leave without Crowfeather I'll have you help him collect moss on your way back to camp."
Breezepaw looked as though she'd commanded that he hurl himself off the nearest cliff, sick with indignation. Still, he wouldn't dare risk being sent back to camp early. He didn't say another word, tail lashing wildly behind him.
Whitetail left without further complaint, and only the two toms were left.
Crowfeather didn't allow the quiet to settle, before the she-cat was even fully out of sight he'd sidled up to his son's stewing frame.
"We need to talk," He said.
Breezepaw scoffed, he stubbornly kept his head twisted away even as Crowfeather leaned in closer.
"Save your breath," He grumbled, "I'm not gonna listen to you."
Crowfeather's tail twitched. What was the brat going to do, press his paws against his ears to block him out? He would have to hear at least some of what was said.
His tail twitched again, now he just needed to decide on what to say.
He gazed up at the sky, nearer to noon than morning now, a deep tranquil blue. Stretched so high above their heads, it felt as though he couldn't reach any of that calm, trapped below with only his own fumbling words and intent.
Crowfeather took a breath.
"I don't want you," He slowly began, "to think anything's changed between us. A lot happened very quickly, and I'm sure it's confusing right now, but-"
"Why did you bring him here?" Breezepaw interrupted.
Crowfeather's eyes darted back down to his son but Breezepaw had yet to turn back to him, hunched and brooding.
Was that really the first question he wanted to ask? It was the most obvious, Onestar made Crowfeather explain himself in excruciating detail before all of the clan last night and besides that, why else would he bring Jaypaw home if not because it was home?
"He's kin."
Breezepaw let out a loud snort, "He's Thunderclan," he said derisively.
Was he, though? What were the few first stumbling steps through a nursery to a long and lived warrior's life? Crowfeather hadn't been born in the same den as Breezepaw either, but when he thought of his clan it was the length of these borders that he imagined rather than the one he hardly tread before leading Windclan to the lake.
"He's just as much Windclan as Thunderclan. More so, even. At this point, he may know the moors better than the trees."
Breezepaw's shoulders bunched even tighter, "That doesn't mean anything! He doesn't know us! And you don't know him either."
Crowfeather looked away again, stung.
It was true, he only knew Jaypaw for a little over a day. He only knew his other children for half that, stolen glances and quick words between the lies and confessions. It was profoundly unfair, enough to coax out his claws if he allowed himself too much time to dwell on it.
Still, he knew what mattered most.
"I know that Jaypaw belongs here," He said, "I know he's prouder than a rooster and twice as bold. There's nothing he wants more than to be a loyal warrior and leaving him in Thunderclan would have been a waste."
An apprentice sitting alone in camp, his mentor gone without a word and all his litter mates away with their own lessons. Still, mousebrained as it was, Jaypaw had been determined to keep pace and teach himself what he was missing. What a profound waste it would have been to leave him there, wind a mere whistle between leaves and wildness only an unwanted streak to tame.
"He doesn't know us, but he still chose us over everything he does know, that's why I brought him back."
Breezepaw shot to a stand and prowled a few steps away, face deliberately turned away still as he sat back down. Crowfeather's side felt cold as his son all but cringed from him.
"How nice," Breezepaw spat like venom, "Do you want me to tell you I'm happy for you?"
Crowfeather growled. Starclan save him from immature brats and their tantrums, what could have possibly offended Breezepaw now?
"You're the one who asked," He snapped.
The crest of black fur spining down Breezepaw's back began its slow prickle, rising alongside his temper.
"Yes, well," Breezepaw said in a stumble, "I don't even know why you're still here! Go find Jaypaw and tell him all this sappy nonsense."
"Sappy," Crowfeather repeated in a dark rumble. He got up as well, claws leaving thin grooves in the dirt below. Breezepaw was well and truly trying his patience now, as though being confined to apprentice duties meant he could no longer lunge forward and box in his ears.
"What would you rather hear?" He demanded, "That I hadn't thought at all? Hadn't considered anything before bringing him here? Would you rather I claimed our kin on impulse?"
"I would rather," Breezepaw shrieked, jagged and so dangerously unsteady that it stopped Crowfeather cold, "I would rather the kin you have be enough!"
His words rang sharply through the grass, sending a plume of birds into the sky in alarm as the world quieted around them.
Crowfeather stared, struck speechless.
Breezepaw's shoulders were trembling ever so slightly, he twisted his head even further, as though terrified that his father might peek at his expression.
"I mean," He said in a forcefully calmer tone, "Ashfoot and Nightcloud, and me, I guess. That's already a lot, more than most anyone else in Windclan. I- Why-"
He trailed off, ears dipping against his head. There was anger in him still, of course there was. None of it had cooled, but it had soured, a haze of defeat now settled over him like a shroud.
"You're enough," Crowfeather blurted.
He was rewarded with a fearsome growl, "I didn't mean me!"
Crowfeather wasn't dissuaded, he toed closer to his son, surveying the tight coil of his frame. Breezepaw looked as though he were bracing for a blow, for his father to grow weary and simply walk away from him and his anger.
"Breezepaw," Crowfeather said, softer now, "You're enough."
This time, the apprentice didn't say a word.
Crowfeather was fine with that, all he had to do was listen.
"To begin with, you will never be considered too little of anything," He said wryly, "but besides that, this was never about improving or replacing any of you."
Breezepaw didn't move, stubbornly ignoring him even as they were a whisker away from one another. Crowfeather leaned that tiny bit closer to let his tail wrap loosely around his son, willing him to pay attention.
"Onestar was right, I'm greedy," He confessed, it was perhaps the only truth the tom gleaned of Crowfeather.
"I want to have it all, everything I can manage to keep and then some. I wanted a mate, I wanted children, and I can't begin to say-" Crowfeather's voice caught and he cleared his throat hastily, "I was so lucky to get that. You're my son and that will never change, I'll never stop wanting you. I could never give you up for anything, how could I give them up either?"
"Easily," Breezepaw snapped, "You don't know them, they aren't yours. You didn't even know they existed and were still happy, right? Why can't you just forget about them?"
Crowfeather bit back a scoff, "I can't because they are mine. Before I knew about them, they were mine. And not only that," He pitched his voice and crouched to Breezepaw's ear, "Before you knew about them, they were yours too."
This finally earns Breezepaw's full and undivided attention. He yanked his head around, eyes huge on his small pointed face. He looked as though Crowfeather were speaking in tongues, utter disbelief in every corner of his expression.
"Are you mousebrained?" He demanded.
"That's how kin works, Breezepaw. If they're mine, they're yours too. You've had siblings this entire time, siblings you weren't allowed to know about until now. Could you leave them there?"
Breezepaw stared at him, incredulous.
"Yes," He said aggressively, "I don't need them or want them, Thunderclan can keep them!"
Crowfeather quirked a brow, should he push that? He didn't believe his son was being completely honest, but he wasn't sure Breezepaw understood himself enough to know that.
Nightcloud could want things, could leave things behind, could wish with all her heart and then bury it deep underground if she needed to. In that sense, she was stronger than Crowfeather.
His regrets hounded him wherever he went, his wishes always seemed to come back up no matter how deeply he dug. He couldn't move forward when life wronged him the way Nightcloud could, it always remained, a wound that never healed. Breezepaw might be a scruffy reflection of his mother, but he was just like his father when it came to letting things go. Grudges and goals stuck to him like burrs and never came off cleanly.
There was no way Jaypaw, Lionpaw, and Hollypaw could come so close to being Breezepaw's kin and still leave the Windclan apprentice unscathed. That kind of brush with vulnerability, with the excruciatingly personal, would get under his son's skin and stay there. Breezepaw was capable of many reactions to his half-siblings, but calm dismissal was never going to be one of them.
"Are you sure? It wouldn't bother you if they did what you wanted and chose to ignore their Windclan ties? If they forgot you could ever be kin and considered you no more important than the next random cat from outside Thunderclan?"
Breezepaw didn't answer, mouth tight, but he didn't have to. There was frustration glittering in his amber eyes, a very real hint of agitation in the way he shrank ever so minutely under Crowfeather's words.
He sighed, "And knowing that’s not true- could you still ignore them? Lionpaw and Hollypaw are eager to meet you at the next gathering, they already consider you their brother. Jaypaw joined you in Windclan, he claimed you with me in front of Firestar himself. You say you could ignore them if you were in my position, but you have a choice too, it isn't just mine to make."
He stared his son down, "Will you ignore them?"
Breezepaw growled low and long, eyes narrowing to slits. Crowfeather waited him out, watching expectantly for his son to absorb and process the question properly.
Gradually, the growl tapered off. Breezepaw looked back at him, furious but churning through this problem with feverish intensity. He could tantrum all he liked, he was never any good at holding back his thoughts.
At last, he curled a lip, "Lionpaw and Hollypaw aren't my kin, they aren't even Windclan."
That thorn pierced Crowfeather's heart deeply, twisting right through him. He grit passed it as quickly as he could.
It was only a day, he reminded himself harshly. Only a single day's work to coax his son into accepting his siblings, it didn't have to happen all at once. Breezepaw deserved more time to navigate his newfound family bonds, like most cats in Windclan he'd never had to consider what siblings meant to him.
Beyond that, he hadn't even met them yet. He didn't have the faintest concept of what he was denying himself.
"And Jaypaw?" He managed.
Breezepaw was quiet for a moment more, begrudging to grant Crowfeather any insight.
"I could've left him in Thunderclan," He said eventually, "but now that he's here it would be stupid to pretend he's not my…brother."
Brother fell from Breezepaw the way carrion fell from the jaws of foxes, but it was a start.
Crowfeather wasn't used to practicing optimism, it was a difficult mindset to keep up when he wasn't particularly confident in any of his kin's ability to get along with one another. But he wanted it all, so he'd just had to persevere.
He crossed the rest of the distance between them and butted his head against his son, roughly smearing his cheek across Breezepaw's entire face.
Breezepaw yanked himself away indignantly, wretching and grooming as though Crowfeather were a residue to be rid of. Crowfeather watched with something like warmth sitting pleasantly in his chest, of course Breezepaw cared more about cleaning himself of his father than the half dozen twigs snarled in his coat.
"I should let you get back to your hunting lesson," He murmured, mostly to himself.
Breezepaw scowled, "Yeah! Go back to getting moss, I have birds to catch."
Crowfeather stood up, stretching his legs just so, and letting the tip of his tail flick chidingly against Breezepaw's ear.
"Let me go see where Whitetail wandered off to."
As if summoned, the white she-cat bounced through the grass mere seconds after those words left Crowfeather's mouth.
She looked a bit ruffled, eyes very wide and a smile curling oddly at the edges. Nevertheless, she beamed at them in characteristic cheer.
"I'm done," Whitetail announced brightly, bounding past Crowfeather to give her apprentice an affectionate lick.
To his exasperation, Breezepaw looked irritated but went to none of the dramatics he felt appropriate when his father was similarly demonstrative. He sat through his mentor's doting with a deeply pained patience, one eerily similar to what Crowfeather could see in Whitetail herself when Breezepaw was being especially difficult.
He shook his head and looked over Whitetail more closely. All that time to herself and it appeared as though she had nothing to show for it.
"You didn't catch any birds?"
She froze for a moment, caught out.
Crowfeather watched with a rising suspicion of how exactly she had returned so quickly.
To her credit, Whitetail recovered skillfully. Adopting a bashful grimace, she twined around Breezepaw to shrug at them both.
"There weren't any that I could find. They might have all moved further to the east with the noise Breezepaw and I made during our lesson," She said.
He stared her down frostily, "How unlucky."
There would be no forcing her to admit she’d listened in like a nosy elder hunting for gossip rather than birds, especially without proof. Crowfeather resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead, he turned his attention back on Breezepaw.
"Be sure to catch a few more birds before you return," He said, "Nightcloud will demand her share and I want whatever she manages to leave behind."
Breezepaw sniffed at him, humming as though he were truly mulling it over. His bracken-dotted tail gave him away, rising higher and higher behind him alongside the excitement kept carefully out of his expression.
"I'll think about it," He said nobly, "Feeding my clan is demanding work, you know."
This time, Crowfeather did roll his eyes. With luck, the similarly acerbic Jaypaw would discourage behavior like this. Heatherpaw was too kind-hearted and Harepaw too cowardly to serve their clan in the truly heroic effort of molding Breezepaw into a halfway humble cat.
In the meantime, "I'll leave you to your task, then."
Crowfeather turned back to where he'd come from, to where Ashfoot was undoubtedly seething. He had taken far longer than a moss errand reasonably allowed for, but none of it had gone to waste. Nightcloud had been right, Breezepaw had needed to discuss exactly what Jaypaw meant for them both, and having that discussion in their very open camp would've been challenging.
He'll apologize when he reaches her.
It was low and fast, hurled through the air like a stone. Crowfeather almost missed it in the slide of grass and chatter of birdsong overhead, Breezepaw had probably intended for that very thing when he spoke.
He hadn't been quite out of hearing, though, and when he caught what his son said, he didn't bother quelling the smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.
"I'll see you back at camp."