It had been more than a quarter moon since Breezepelt and Hollyleaf had returned, and Crowfeather still couldn't quite believe it. He certainly had never expected to see Hollyleaf again, given that it had been announced that she was dead, and Breezepelt had been gone for so long he had truly started to give up hope he would ever return. But here they were, right with him in WindClan.

He didn't really know how to talk to Hollyleaf. She was his daughter by blood, but he had never been her father in any way that mattered. She was as much a stranger to him as any other cat of another Clan. Sure, they had been together on the quest to the mountains, but he had been on two quests with Stormfur, and he certainly didn't feel like kin.

But even though he and Hollyleaf weren't interacting much, he found himself fascinated by her. She was adjusting to life in WindClan remarkably fast, having picked up their hunting techniques almost immediately. He hadn't been lying when he had told Onestar that she would be a great asset to the Clan due to her hunting skills, but he was still impressed by how much that had turned out to be true.

It had also become clear quickly how brilliant she was. On their quest to the mountains, he had noted that Hollyleaf seemed to be the leader among the apprentices– Breezepelt included. Breezepelt and Lionblaze had cared more about one-upping each other than the actual mission, and Jayfeather had spent most of the time slinking around in the back of the caves. But Hollyleaf was always eagerly listening to the Tribe cats when they spoke, interrogating them about their hunting and fighting techniques as if trying to learn as much as possible. She had volunteered for every task, and performed them well. Now in WindClan, that willingness to help hadn't faded one bit, nor had her eagerness to learn. She had quickly thrown herself into becoming the best WindClan warrior she could, and it was paying off.

She also just had a seemingly natural intellect to her. She was already making suggestions to the senior warriors on how to improve Clan operations, and to Crowfeather's utter shock, they were actually listening to her.

In some ways, Hollyleaf reminded Crowfeather so much of her mother. On the journey to the mountains, he hadn't known she was Leafpool's kit, but now that he knew, it made so much sense. Both she-cats had the same intellect, and the same passion for everything they did. They also shared an unusually high dedication to the warrior code, despite the infractions against it they had both committed. It was beyond him how Hollyleaf could still feel such loyalty to the code despite having spent half her life hiding away from the Clans, but she did. Just as Leafpool had even while they were actively running away. They clearly had some intensity of faith that he couldn't comprehend.

As much as he had been watching Hollyleaf, he had been watching Breezepelt even more. Ever since his conversation with Brambleclaw all those moons ago, he had been thinking of his son differently. Brambleclaw of all cats had helped him realize how ungrateful he had been to have Breezepelt as his son, and how he should have appreciated him before it was too late.

Now he had another chance to have a relationship with his son, and he was not going to waste it.

Breezepelt had changed a lot during his time in the tunnels. It seemed that Hollyleaf had had a really positive influence on him, or maybe he had just needed time away from his Clanmates. Whatever the reason, Breezepelt smiled more, complained less, and just seemed… happier than Crowfeather had ever seen him before. He was even voluntarily spending time with his Clanmates other than just Heathertail.

As soon as they had entered the camp and seen Heathertail, belly swollen with kits, Crowfeather had felt guilty for not warning Breezepelt. He still didn't know the exact nature of the relationship between his son and his former apprentice, but in the moons before his disappearance it had become clear they were more than just friends. She had been devastated when he had vanished, and had insisted longer than just about any other cat that he would return. But eventually, even she had given up hope. And any cat could see the warmth she and Harespring developed for each other while mentoring Boulderfur and Furzepelt together. As a father, he had been sad to see Heathertail move on from his son, but as her former mentor, he was happy she had found love.

But now that Breezepelt was back, it was clear the two of them hadn't known how to talk to each other anymore. Obvious awkwardness had sizzled between them for a few days, but they must have resolved things, because now they were back to acting just as friendly towards each other as when they were kits.

Breezepelt also seemed to have a confidence about himself that he had never had before. The Breezepelt he had known before had always been looking for approval– Heathertail's, Whitetail's, Nightcloud's, or his own. And Crowfeather was ashamed to say he hadn't given it as often as he should have. But now, it was as if he no longer cared what anyone else thought of him. When he acted, he acted quicker, with no hesitation. He was really coming into his own as a warrior.

As proud as Crowfeather was to see the changes in his son, they still had barely spoken. At least there was no longer the outright hostility between them that there once had been, but he wanted the chance to really sit down with his son and hear about what his life had been like all these moons. He wanted to hear why he had left, and why he had come back. But how was he meant to open up a conversation like that? Hey, son, I know I've been a terrible father your whole life, but want to chat? Maybe he was already too late to be a father.

Plus, Breezepelt was always with Hollyleaf, and he certainly didn't know how to have that conversation with her around. He needed to get his son alone. And just then, he realized just how to do it.

That night, Crowfeather laid down beside the other warriors, but he didn't sleep. Instead, he waited until the hum of voices had died down and all of his Clanmates had drifted into sleep. Finally, when he was sure no cat was watching, he padded over to where Breezepelt slept, curled against Hollyleaf, and gently nudged Breezepelt with his foot.

Breezepelt awoke quickly, instantly alert. His eyes met Crowfeather's, and his face wrinkled in confusion.

"Come on," whispered Crowfeather, just as he had when he had taken Breezepelt hunting as an apprentice all those moons ago. "I want to show you something."

Breezepelt hesitated, glancing over at Hollyleaf, but after a moment he shrugged and stood up. Crowfeather couldn't help but notice how much Breezepelt had grown up, not just since he had been an apprentice, but since he had left. He was still smaller than most of the other warriors, but the difference was less extreme than it had been. He had finally filled out a bit in his time away.

Wordlessly, Breezepelt followed Crowfeather from the camp. They didn't have to sneak him out this time– they were both warriors now, and were allowed to leave the camp if they chose.

Once they were a few fox-lengths away from the camp, Breezepelt finally spoke. "So, what did you want to show me?" he asked.

Crowfeather paused. He didn't actually have anything to show– he had just wanted an excuse to have a conversation with his son. "We found an old fox set by the horseplace last moon," he meowed, thinking quickly. "Do you want to go see if any rabbits have moved in?"

Breezepelt paused for a moment, and Crowfeather held his breath, desperately hoping he would say yes. "Let's do it," meowed Breezepelt finally.

So the two of them set off towards the horseplace. Overhead, the moon was just a narrow crescent, barely bright enough to light their way. Stars twinkled above, as if StarClan themselves was asking, what are you going to say to him?

Just as the horseplace came into view, Breezepelt froze. Crowfeather stopped too, almost bumping into him. "Wh-" he started, and then stopped as he finally smelled what Brezeepelt was smelling. Rabbit.

Breezepelt took off abruptly, streaking across the open plains with his belly fur brushing the grass. In an instant, Crowfeather knew what he was trying to do. He raced after his son, following his dark shape as it flew towards a rabbit he couldn't even see yet. At the moment when its scent told him it was only a few fox-lengths away, Breezepelt peeled off to the right, and Crowfeather went left. As the rabbit, finally visible, dodged away from Breezepelt, it went right into Crowfeather's jaws. He dispatched it with a quick bite to the neck, and carried it over to Breezepelt.

"That was a good spot," Crowfeather meowed, dropping the rabbit at Breezepelt's feet. "You smelled it way before I did." Breezepelt shrugged as if it were nothing, but a small smile was unmistakable on his face. "Do you want to split it?" he asked.

Breezepelt hesitated. "Shouldn't we bring it back to the Clan?" he asked.

"No cat will ever know," Crowfeather pointed out. "Besides, we can always catch another."

This must have seemed reasonable enough to Breezepelt, because he agreed, and the two toms lay down together to share their kill. Breezepelt had come so far since Crowfeather had taught him the pair hunting technique so long ago. Then, he had been a brand-new apprentice, barely able to catch a rabbit on his own. Now, he was smelling rabbits before Crowfeather could and pair hunting seemed to come as naturally to him as cleaning his own fur.

"What did you and Hollyleaf do for food, when you were living in the tunnels?" he asked. It seemed as good a question as any to broach the subject of Breezepelt's time away, and he still knew practically nothing about what he had been up to other than that they had been living in the tunnels that connected WindClan and ThunderClan.

Breezepelt swallowed a mouthful of rabbit and then answered. "At the beginning, we fished. Fish are gross, but they're basically all you can catch underground. Eventually we started going outside to hunt. We still slept in the tunnels, but we could at least go outside to catch real prey. We only ever went to the territory above the Clan territories, though. We didn't want to leave a scent trail someone would recognize."

Why didn't you want to be found? Crowfeather yowled silently. How could you let us all think you were dead? But instead, he meowed, "I can imagine that tasted amazing compared to the fish."

"It did," Breezepelt agreed. And then there was silence again.

Finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Why did you leave?" he blurted. For a long moment, Breezepelt just looked at the ground. Then, finally, he spoke.

"At first, I just got trapped. I couldn't find my way out," he meowed. "The tunnel collapsed behind me. But then, Hollyleaf helped me find the way out and I just realized… Even after just a few days away, I couldn't face the Clan again. I couldn't face my mother and her worrying. And I couldn't face you. I couldn't face the idea that you would be glad I was gone. I couldn't bear finding out that my Clan was better off without me."

Crowfeather felt his heart breaking. He had feared that he had been part of the reason Breezepelt had disappeared, but hearing him say it out loud still stung. His own father had been so absent from his life. How had he become even worse?

"Of course I wasn't glad you were gone," he whispered. "I missed you, Breezepelt. I thought of you every day."

"I know you were always ashamed of me," Breezepelt meowed angrily. Good. He would take anger over silence. "Nothing I did was ever good enough for you. Even when we went to the mountains with Hollyleaf and her brothers, I remember you praising them instead of me. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?"

"I don't," Crowfeather admitted. "I thought… I thought I should be harder on you, because you were my son. I never meant to make you feel like you were less than them. Of course I liked you better. I guess I just didn't know how a father was meant to act. I barely knew my own father, myself."

"You didn't?" asked Breezepelt, sounding surprised.

"Nope," meowed Crowfeather. "He was the Clan deputy when I was born, so he was much too busy with his Clan to be a father. And then he died when I was an apprentice. It was always just me and Ashfoot."

"You never talk about your father," meowed Breezepelt softly. "I never even knew he was Clan deputy."

"I've never talked about a lot of things," admitted Crowfeather. "I should have."

Breezepelt was silent for a moment before meowing, "I know you never wanted to be a father. Nightcloud told me. She said you were upset when you found out she was expecting kits. She said that's why you hated me."

Crowfeather felt anger well up inside him. He knew he had done wrong to Nightcloud, but she had no right to sabotage his relationship with his son. He had been scared when he found out she was expecting kits so soon after he had ended things. But as soon as Breezepelt had been born, he had felt so lucky. He had never hated his son.

"I never hated you," Crowfeather swore. "We were both so young when you were born. I was scared I wouldn't be a good father, and it seems like I was right. But I never hated you. I never should have let you believe I did."

Breezepelt looked like he still didn't quite believe him. Crowfeather couldn't blame him.

"Look," he meowed. "I know I was never a good father to you. But let me make it up to you now. Can we just start over?" he asked.

Thinking it over for a moment, Breezepelt finally nodded. "Okay," he meowed. "Let's start over."

Crowfeather smiled. "Perfect," he meowed. After a pause, he asked, "So when did you and Hollyleaf start getting along?"

Breezepelt grinned, his eyes twinkling with a glow that warmed Crowfeather's heart. "Well, that's a funny story…"

Father and son stayed out on the moor until dawn was starting to break, when they finally headed back to camp. They did manage to catch another rabbit on the way, so at least they weren't returning empty-pawed.

As they entered the camp together, Crowfeather's gaze crossed the clearing and found Nightcloud staring back at him. Her scrutiny darted between him and Breezepelt, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Crowfeather sighed. Breezepelt wasn't the only family member he needed to talk to.

Hollyleaf was awake, too, and she was yawning as Breezepelt padded over to her. "Where have you been?" she meowed sleepily.

Watching them with a smile, Crowfeather forced himself to look back at Nightcloud. He crossed the clearing to her, figuring they might as well get this conversation out of the way sooner rather than later. "Can we talk?" he asked.

Nightcloud pulled her gaze away from Breezepelt too, and met his eyes. "Fine," she meowed with a sigh. "Let's talk." They ducked behind a gorse bush for privacy, and Crowfeather spoke first.

"I want to try again to be a good father to Breezepelt," he meowed, forcing himself to keep his voice steady even as his anger over the way she had turned his son against him swelled under his pelt. "He agreed we can start over, and I want to do it right this time. But I need you to let me do it."

"Let you do it?" snapped Nightcloud. "Crowfeather, your failure to be a good father is not my fault. The fact that you even think it is is just more proof of your failure to accept accountability for your own choices."

He let her words wash over him. She has a fair point, he conceded.

"You're right," he agreed. "I was a bad father. And I know that. But you can't deny you did your best to push him away from me, too."

"How could I not?" she meowed. "I saw the way you looked at me when you found out I was expecting kits. I saw the way you treated him. He was my only kit, and I felt like it was my duty as a mother to protect him. To protect him from you."

"I know," he meowed regretfully. "I know. You loved him so well, and you protected him so well. But I get another chance now to have a relationship with my son. I know you still don't trust me, but I'm asking you to trust him. Trust that he's strong enough not to get hurt again."

Nightcloud's anger deflated a bit. "He said the same thing to me a few days ago," she admitted. "All I've ever wanted, from the moment he was born, is to keep him safe. But he said… he said I need to let him be his own tom now. That I need to let him make his own mistakes. But how can I do that? He's all I have, and I just got him back. How can I risk losing him again?"

"I don't know," Crowfeather meowed softly. "But I do know if you try to hold onto him too tight, you will lose him again."

Nightcloud sighed. "You're right," she acknowledged. "I know you're right. It's just… so hard for me."

"I know," he meowed. "But you have to." There was a pause, and Crowfeathert found himself mourning the days when conversation had been easy between them. They had been best friends. But that had all changed the day Crowfeather had been picked to go on the journey to the sun-drown place. From that moment onward, there had always been a gap between them. And that gap had expanded to a chasm as soon as he had taken her as his mate.

It was the cruelest thing he had ever done.

"I'm so sorry," he meowed, realizing then just how wrong he had been. "I'm sorry for everything. I knew you loved me, and I took advantage of that to save my own reputation, and I had no right to do that. You have every reason to hate me, and I don't expect your forgiveness. But I am sorry."

Nightcloud was silent for a moment. "I don't forgive you," she meowed finally. "And I'm not sure if I ever will. I didn't deserve the way you treated me. But… all of the mistakes we both made led to Breezepelt. So in the end, I can't say I regret any of it."

Though he had said he didn't expect her forgiveness, her refusal to give it still stung. What more can I do to make this right? he wanted to yowl. But he knew he couldn't force her to forgive him. He had to give her time.

"I understand," he meowed, nodding his head and trying to hide his disappointment. "I know we might never be friends again, but do you think we can try to coexist peacefully? For Breezepelt?"

Nightcloud nodded. "For Breezepelt," she echoed. "But I'm warning you, Crowfeather. If you hurt my son again, I will personally tear the fur from your pelt." The gleam in her eyes told him that she meant her words wholeheartedly.

"Understood," he meowed. "I promise you, I won't hurt him again."

"Good," Nightcloud meowed. "You know, your opinion has always mattered so much to him. All he ever wanted was to make you proud."

A wave of regret washed over him. All those moons, his son had wanted to make him proud, and Crowfeather had let him believe he wasn't. Well, no more. "I am proud," Crowfeather meowed. "And this time, I'll make sure he knows it."