New chappie, people! Crowfeather's POV. Also, there's been some discussion over whether Redtail was tortoiseshell or not. It said "tortoiseshell tom" in Into the Wild, so that's what I wrote. Icyeh says that there's no such thing, but Leafheart says their just rare. I don't know- but it does say "tortoiseshell tom" in the book.
Suggestion time! Here are some fics that I found especially good:
-Nightfall by Twitcherz
-The Chronicles of Randomness by Spirithunter
-Warriors stuck in a mall! by oddsponge13
-The Riddle of Magic by DragonFrog (A Harry Potter fic, btw, and an awesome one at that)
-Anything at all by Ravenpelt, whose stories are AWESOME.
Note: All of these stories or their authors are in my profile, to save the trouble of sifting through all the fics out there.
Now, the chappie...
Crowfeather's time was divided between Leafpool, Ashfoot, and the Clan. Unfortunately, wherever he was, he always had the sense that he should be somewhere else. Ashfoot got worse everyday, and since Weaselpaw's death, WindClan needed him as a strong warrior. And Leafpool...he wasn't himself when he wasn't with Leafpool.
One rare time he sat at the camp, not hunting or patrolling, not sitting with Ashfoot or slipping off to meet Leafpool. He was sharing a rabbit with Nettleclaw, while Moonfrost lay on his other side, crunching a vole.
Nettleclaw's bright blue eyes were trained on the gorse warriors' den. "Webfoot needs to get his paws moving," he growled. "He hardly gets anything done since the battle at the balanced rocks."
"He's mourning Weaselpaw," meowed Moonfrost. "He was his apprentice, after all."
"That's no excuse to be lazy," Crowfeather pointed out. "All of WindClan needs to have their claws sharp now."
Moonfrost swallowed a bit of vole. "If RiverClan were anywhere near our territory, Webfoot's claws would be ready, I promise you. He'd attack their camp himself if he could."
"Onestar would never let him do that," Nettleclaw mewed dismissively.
"But could Onestar stop him, even if he tried?" Moonfrost looked at the younger warriors with wide eyes. "He's still close with Briarpelt and Nightcloud. What if they tried to attack RiverClan themselves?"
"They'd be killed," Nettleclaw replied promptly. "And Webfoot's not that stupid."
"Not stupid," Crowfeather realized. "Just desperate for revenge. Face it, Webfoot's probably thinking that this is Onestar's fault- he wanted Mudclaw to be leader."
But Hawkfrost was the one working with Mudclaw, he thought, and Hawkfrost killed Weaselpaw. Would he still side with Mudclaw?
He didn't know, and was grateful when Nettleclaw changed the subject. "How's Ashfoot?"
Crowfeather bit into the rabbit, taking his time as he chewed and swallowed. "She's all right," he mewed. "Still alive, anyway."
He hadn't meant to speak so darkly, but it was true. All that he hoped for now when he visited his mother was to see that she was still breathing. Barkface didn't know what else to do for her.
Nettleclaw put his tail sympathetically on Crowfeather's shoulder, and the dark gray tom turned to look at him. He had shared his apprenticeship with the black tom, though, just like with everyone else, their friendship had changed drastically after his visit to the sun-drown-place. It was good to see that Nettleclaw still remembered the old days.
"She might pull through," the big tom mewed. "She's strong, and the warm winds will help her."
Crowfeather closed his eyes briefly. "I hope so."
The three toms turned to Barkface's den to see Onestar padding out. His ears were flat, and he shook his head at Icepaw as the apprentice mewed something after him.
"Who'll be the new deputy?" whispered Moonfrost. "If she does die?"
That was a question that nagged Crowfeather insistantly. He really didn't know. None of the other warriors had braved Brokentail's exile, BloodClan, and Tigerstar as well as Ashfoot- except for Onestar himself, and Tallstar, and other warriors that had died in one battle or another.
"What will WindClan do without her?" Crowfeather murmured, though it was a lie. Even if Ashfoot did die, WindClan would find some way to continue on, as always. Truly, he himself was wondering what he would do without his mother, his deputy, and the only cat inside WindClan that really understood him.
&&&
Every time he saw Leafpool, she asked him for a description of Ashfoot's condition. He would tell her, and she would reel off a list of herbs that he could try. It was all rather pointless, because there was no way he could suggest them to Barkface without suspicion, but it made him feel better to know that Leafpool, too, was trying to help.
He pressed his muzzle against her cheek one evening, mewing a quiet farewell before dashing back across to WindClan territory, stopping only to pick up the mouse he had caught on his way to meet Leafpool. At least he could get away with the story of only hunting, and maybe the prey would tempt Ashfoot.
His mother wasn't in the medicine cats' den. She had dragged herself all the way out of the cave and lay, exhausted from the effort, at the edge of the rise. Crowfeather hurried over to her, setting his mouse down to speak. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," she managed through her coughs. "I...I told...Barkface...I didn't want to stay in there...any longer. I wanted...to see the sky."
"Oh," Crowfeather mewed. "But why didn't you get a cat to help you up?"
"I don't need help," Ashfoot growled. "And it doesn't matter, anyway. I'm not getting any better."
"You might!" Crowfeather meowed. "Don't say that."
"Why deny it?" Ashfoot asked him, rolling her blue eyes up to look at him. "I'm not afraid of StarClan, Crowfeather."
"And you shouldn't be," Crowfeather meowed, settling down beside her, his nose brushing her fur. "They'll recieve you with honor You fought well for WindClan." He knew there was no point in trying to tell her she was going to get better anymore.
"I hope I did," Ashfoot murmured. She coughed again, and then looked back at Crowfeather. He could see the motherly pride in her eyes. "But not half as well as you, Crowfeather. You did so much for the forest, in your journey for the sun-drown place."
Crowfeather bowed his head, thinking of Leafpool. After what he had done, was he still worthy of her praise? He stared down at her dim eyes, and his tongue loosened as he lost his will to keep it all a secret, not from Ashfoot. Not when he could already see the light of StarClan in her gaze.
"I told you," he mewed, his voice soft so that they wouldn't be overheard, "I told you about Feathertail."
Ashfoot hacked again, then nodded. "You said you cared for her. I understand, Crowfeather."
Speech was causing her a great deal of effort now, and she was splayed out, all her muscles limp. Crowfeather pressed his side against hers. "I did care for her. I still do. But...there's another cat, Ashfoot."
His mother's ears twitched, but she seemed to not have the strength to reply. Crowfeather's pelt prickled. "But she's not from WindClan, Ash- Mother. She's...Leafpool."
"Leafpool!" Ashfoot's rasp was barely loud enough for him to hear, but he still detected the surprise, the disbelief.
"Yes," Crowfeather admitted, staring at her. He swallowed again. "I love her, Mother. I really do."
Ashfoot's flanks were heaving, as if this news had taken even more of her strength away. "You...you were always such a loyal cat, Crowfeather," she panted. "How could you?"
"I don't know," Crowfeather meowed truthfully, willing for her to understand. "I really don't."
"Well, I-" Ashfoot had to stop, her throat convulsing, her breaths short and clipped. Crowfeather watched in alarm until she finally flopped back down, exhausted from the struggle.
"How could you betray WindClan?" she gasped.
"I didn't!" Crowfeather protested. "I'll still fight for my Clan, I'll still be a warrior. But I can't give up Leafpool...I can't!"
Ashfoot studied him bleakly for a moment. She didn't cough, but Crowfeather could sense that she was getting weaker with each quavery pound of her heart. "Promise...promise me something, Crowfeather," she mewed finally. Her voice was as whispery as the wind through the heather.
"Anything," Crowfeather meowed instantly.
"Promise...that you'll make me proud. That you'll do everything that I know you can. You are great, Crowfeather. You are strong, you are fierce, and you are loyal. Even with what you did with Leafpool. You are my son, and promise me that you'll make me proud of you."
Crowfeather was barely able to understand the words as they were ripped out of her, but once she was finished he nodded, putting his head close to hers so that he could smell her familiar kithood scent. "I promise, Mother," he murmured. "I'll do it."
Ashfoot opened her mouth like she was going to reply, but then another coughing fit hit her. After a while Barkface came rushing out of his den to quell her, and Crowfeather watched in a kind of stunned horror as the medicine cat pressed his paws against her chest, trying to stimulate her breathing. He was still watching when Ashfoot's body shuddered, when Barkface gently closed her eyes.
And he was still watching as the cats of WindClan came forward to pay silent tribute, sharing tongues with their deputy for the last time. Some, Nettleclaw and Barkface included, tried to speak to him, but he would not move.
Finally, Crowfeather stirred, lifting himself to his paws and walking over to where his mother held her last vigil. She had died after moonhigh, so Onestar had until the next night to announce her replacement. He and most of the Clan would come out to sit with her soon, but they weren't here now. Onestar was with Barkface, and the other warriors were grouped around the edge of the rise, watching the dark gray warrior pad towards his mother.
"Good-bye," Crowfeather meowed to her still form. "You were a good deputy, a good warrior, and the best mother a cat could ask for. And I'll make you proud."
He sat beside her. His head was lifted to the stars, his fur was flat. His eyes flashed with an understanding wisdom as he felt the pain that he had felt before. No cat had looked more noble, not any cat that was as hurt inside as Crowfeather.
His ears were pricked, as if he were listening for danger. But he wasn't. No, Crowfeather was only listening to the sound of his own heart, as it beat all alone in the dark.
Reviews are appriciated!
