Looking at Crowfeather's imploring eyes, Breezepelt couldn't help but remember the last really good memory he had with his father. Breezepelt had been a new apprentice, having barely started learning to hunt yet. He had been asleep in the apprentices' den next to Heathertail, when suddenly, he had been awakened in the middle of the night by his father's foot gently nudging him.

"Come on," Crowfeather had whispered. "I want to show you something." Breezepelt had blinked sleep from his eyes, trying to figure out why his father was in the apprentice den. Crowfeather had stopped coming to visit him in the nursery almost completely moons ago– why was he here now?

But he was so excited by the idea of going on an adventure with his father that he hadn't pondered over his reasons too much. He had jumped to his feet, and quietly followed his father out of the apprentice den. They had stopped outside of the den so Crowfeather could whisper the plan to him.

"Owlwhisker is on night watch," he had whispered in a conspiratory tone that made Breezepelt shiver with excitement. "I'm going to tell him I'm leaving to make dirt, but if we go out together, he'll get suspicious. But, there's another way out for you. I'm too big for it now, but there's a narrow tunnel beneath the gorse bush by the elder's den. Can you see the bush I mean?"

Breezepelt had followed his father's gaze and nodded. He saw the bush, though not the tunnel. "I see it," he had meowed.

"Perfect," Crowfeather had meowed. "Wiggle your way under there, and you'll come out on the other side, outside the camp and out of sight from the night watch. Can you do that?" Breezepelt had nodded again, eager to be breaking the rules with his father.

So as Crowfeather went to talk to Owlwhisker, Breezepelt had padded softly over to the bush his father had been talking about. Sure enough, there was a tiny amount of space under the bush. But fortunately, Breezepelt was tiny too. Wriggling on his belly, he had pulled himself under the gorse bush and crawled under the bush. After a few moments, he popped up on the other side. Crowfeather was already there waiting for him, and they had gone off together.

Crowfeather had taken him up into the hills above the camp. "Has Whitetail taught you about partner hunting yet?" he had asked.

Breezepelt shook his head. "No, we watched Weaselfur and Tornear do it, but she says it's too advanced for me still," he had meowed.

Crowfeather had just smiled. "Well, I think you're ready to learn it," he had meowed. And then he had taught Breezepelt the technique. He had explained the importance of always knowing where your partner was to avoid getting in each other's way, how to anticipate which way a rabbit would run if you chased it, and how to listen for pawsteps so you could keep track of a piece of prey and another cat at the same time. After only a few attempts, Breezepelt had successfully chased a rabbit right into his father's waiting jaws.

He had never felt prouder.

After that, they had switched roles, with Crowfeather as the chaser and Breezepelt as the catcher. That had taken longer to perfect, since Breezepelt had only just started learning to hunt, but soon they had caught a second rabbit that way.

He was having so much fun that night, he didn't even realize almost the entire night had passed. But eventually, Crowfeather had told him it was time to go back.

"Cats will be waking up for the dawn patrol soon," he had meowed. "We've got to get back to camp before cats notice we're gone."

"What about the rabbits we caught?" Breezepelt had asked.

"We can bury them," meowed Crowfeather. "I'll come back out here later and say we brought them back from a patrol." So they had buried their proud catches, and when he finally got to bite into his and his father's rabbit later the next day, it was the greatest thing he had ever tasted.

But after that wonderful night, Crowfeather had changed suddenly. Breezepelt had never understood what brought it on, but he certainly never came back to sneak him off on adventures. He barely even spoke to Breezepelt as a son– more like an apprentice. It seemed like nothing he did was ever good enough, and whenever Crowfeather spoke to him, it felt like he was trying to hide loathing and disappointment behind his eyes.

He had accepted a long time ago that his father didn't care about him. So why was he here now, begging Breezepelt to return? How could he say these things about his Clan missing him, as if Crowfeather himself wasn't the cat that had surely missed Breezepelt the least? How was he saying all of these kind things about Breezepelt and reasons he was valuable to his Clan, when Breezepelt didn't think he had ever even noticed him doing these things while they were happening?

"Why are you saying all this now?" Breezepelt asked angrily, breaking the uneasy silence that hung between the three cats. "You were nothing but angry at me when I lived in WindClan. You never wanted me around then. What changed?"

The guilt in his father's eyes was so strong that Breezepelt almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But not quite.

"Breezepelt, I… I was a terrible father," meowed Crowfeather softly. "I never hated you, not the way your mother would have had you believe. But I didn't take care of you the way a father is supposed to. I didn't encourage you, I didn't spend enough time with you, I didn't do… anything a father is supposed to do. I know there's nothing I can do now that will change that. But if you'll give me a second chance, I want to try again. I want to try again to be the kind of father you deserve."

Breezepelt was shocked to hear these words. Crowfeather was right, of course. He hadn't been a good father. But the shock came from the idea that he would ever admit it. That he had any interest in doing better.

He doubted his father could actually improve. They had spent too long angry at each other to ever have the sort of relationship Hollyleaf and Brambleclaw had had. As much as his father's voice called to and soothed a deeply buried part of him that had never stopped longing for his father's love, he couldn't let himself be won over by this talk just to be crushed again.

But StarClan… he missed his Clan. Now, hearing his father talk about WindClan, the longing was stronger than ever. He missed the moors, he missed the breeze blowing over him while he slept in the WindClan camp, he missed the noisy cries of kits coming from the nursery, he even missed Antpelt's snoring. It would be so, so easy to just listen to his father and go back home.

But… he couldn't leave Hollyleaf. He knew that with more surety than he had ever known anything in his life. WindClan would always feel like his home, the tunnels would always feel like home, but no place would ever feel like home as much as she did. She was his sister. Being with her mattered more than anything else. He would rather miss his mother and Heathertail and Sunstrike and Harespring and Whitetail and Ashfoot and all of the rest of them for the rest of his life than live with the guilt of knowing he had abandoned Hollyleaf to run back to his Clan and leave her to wander alone.

So Breezepelt looked his desperate father in the eyes and did the hardest thing he had ever done. He shook his head. "I appreciate the offer," he meowed. "And I really do miss my Clan. But I won't leave my sister." Beside him, he felt Hollyleaf give a small gasp, and he looked over to see her gazing at him with a grateful look in her eyes. He smiled at her, and gave her a nod. Breezepelt went on. "She's my family now, and I won't go anywhere she can't go."

Crowfeather looked between them, as if finally understanding the depth of their connection. He hesitated, as if unsure his next words were a good idea, but eventually, he said them anyway. "Hollyleaf could come back to WindClan too," Crowfeather meowed. Beside him, Hollyleaf's eyes narrowed in confusion, and Breezepelt was sure his face looked the same as hers.

"Onestar would never let a ThunderClan cat join WindClan," Hollyleaf meowed.

"Well, technically you're half-WindClan, right?" meowed Crowfeather. "You're… you're my kin too. You're as much WindClan as you are ThunderClan." Breezepelt wondered how Hollyleaf felt about that statement. While she was obviously aware of her half-Clan status, she still considered herself ThunderClan through and through.

But… Breezepelt knew Hollyleaf's complicated but nonetheless extremely strong relationship with the warrior code. He knew how much she missed being a part of a Clan, and how much she cared about being able to keep an eye on her old Clanmates. She believed she could never go back to ThunderClan, but if she joined WindClan, she could have the warrior code, she could have her old Clanmates nearby, and she could have a Clan to be a part of again. And I could go home.

It wasn't entirely his choice to make. Ultimately, he would do what Hollyleaf decided. But, if she decided to accept his father's– no, their father's– offer… "What do you think?" he whispered, leaning closer to Hollyleaf's ear.

She looked up at him, looking like she was partly in shock. "What do you think?" she whispered back. "I know you had a tough relationship with your Clanmates."

He hesitated. "I do. I did. But… I also miss them, so much. Is that crazy? I don't know. But… if you will come back with me, I want to go back. I want to give being a part of a Clan another try," he told her.

Hollyleaf squeezed her eyes shut, looking miserably stressed. Breezepelt felt bad for putting this decision on her, but they both had to agree on their next move.

"So, what do you say?" asked Crowfeather. "Will you come to WindClan?"