Yellowfang’s Secret

Chapter 11

“Look behind you, Yellowfang!” Brackenfoot’s yowl rang clearly across the training area. “You’re fighting two enemies, remember!”

Yellowfang whirled, ducking under the blow that Boulder was aiming at her, and in the same movement crashed into his side, trying to knock him over. But Boulder scrambled out of range, and then Yellowfang had to turn again and leap away as Russetpaw charged at her.

Turn and slash… leap… turn again… got you, Russetpaw!… duck… jump back… Great StarClan, these rogues are good!

Several sunrises had passed since Russetpaw and Boulder had come to ShadowClan. Brackenfoot had taken all the apprentices for a training session; Yellowfang and Rowanberry had gone along for the practice.

“Cedarstar’s right when he says that every warrior needs to keep their battle skills sharp,” Rowanberry had commented as they followed their father to the clearing. “And we’ll show these rogues what it means to be a ShadowClan warrior.”

But as soon as Yellowfang began the training exercise, taking on Russetpaw and Boulder at once to perfect her battle skills when she was outnumbered, she realized that practicing with them was harder than she had expected. Though the two rogues had only a scant idea of Clan battle moves, they were both strong and well muscled, and flung themselves determinedly into the fight. Yellowfang felt as though every muscle in her body was taking a beating. I’ve got to get this right, she thought, aware that her sister and the two younger apprentices were watching from the edge of the clearing.

Yellowfang was trying the move that had worked so well in the battle beside the Twoleg fence, rearing on her hind paws and battering Russetpaw around the head with her forepaws. But Russetpaw leaped backward, and before Yellowfang could follow her, Boulder crashed into her hind legs and swept her to the ground. He thumped down on top of her, his face a mouse-length from hers, his eyes gleaming.

“Do I win?” he asked smugly.

“You do,” Brackenfoot replied. “Very good, Boulder—and you, Russetpaw. I’ll tell your mentors you fought well.”

Yellowfang scrambled to her paws, feeling bruised and indignant. It didn’t help when she heard Foxpaw exclaim loudly, “Clumsy furball! She can’t even keep her balance.”

“That move needs work,” Brackenfoot agreed more tactfully, while Yellowfang glared at the apprentice. “Try it again, Yellowfang, and this time don’t forget what might be sneaking up behind you.”

“Okay,” Yellowfang grunted.

Facing Russetpaw again, she reared up, making sure she dug her hind paws firmly into the soft ground. She landed a couple of blows on Russetpaw’s ears, her claws sheathed, then spun around at once and dropped neatly on top of Boulder as he dived at her.

“My round, I think,” she meowed as he wriggled helplessly underneath her.

“Much better,” Brackenfoot purred. “Now you can have a rest, Yellowfang, and we’ll see how Wolfpaw and Foxpaw get on.”

Panting, Yellowfang retreated to the edge of the clearing and flopped down on the moss beside Rowanberry.

“You know,” Rowanberry muttered, “Russetpaw and Boulder are much better at this than I expected. Maybe they didn’t lead such soft lives after all!”

Soft lives! Yellowfang opened her jaws to tell her sister just how big and scary some of the cats in Twolegplace were, then realized that she couldn’t say anything without giving herself away. “They’ll be good fighters when they’re trained,” she agreed.

Enjoying the respite, she watched as Brackenfoot took Foxpaw and Wolfpaw through the same battle moves, and then let them practice with Boulder and Russetpaw. She couldn’t help a purr of satisfaction when Russetpaw landed on top of Foxpaw, squashing all the breath out of her.

“Who can’t balance now?” she whispered to Rowanberry.

While Foxpaw shook moss off her pelt, Brackenfoot called Rowanberry into the center of the clearing. Then he paused and glanced up at the sun. “It’s past sunhigh,” he meowed. “You must be starving. Let’s go back to camp for a piece of fresh-kill; then we’ll come back and finish the session.”

He headed through the trees toward the camp. The brambles were in sight when Yellowfang spotted Raggedpelt slinking away. He shot a glance at the returning cats, then veered off in the opposite direction.

Watching his hasty retreat, Yellowfang felt a stab of sympathy. Maybe I should tell him that the rogues aren’t going to say anything about our visit to Twolegplace.

“Brackenfoot, I need to talk to Raggedpelt,” she told her father, angling her ears toward the spot where the tabby tom had disappeared among the ferns.

Brackenfoot hesitated, as if he was going to insist that she come into the camp to eat and then return to the training session.

I’ve done my bit, Yellowfang thought indignantly. And I’m a warrior now. I can make up my own mind when I train. “It’s important,” she insisted.

Brackenfoot nodded. “Okay, Yellowfang. See you later.”

With a nod to her Clanmates, Yellowfang bounded into the pinewoods after Raggedpelt. Everything was quiet. Yellowfang could hear her own breathing above the soft pad of her paws on the pine needles. Sunlight slanted through the trees, casting bars of light and shadow on the ground. Affection for her territory rushed over Yellowfang. This is the best place in the forest! In the whole world!

A terrible snarling sound from somewhere up ahead jolted Yellowfang back to reality. For a heartbeat horror froze her limbs.

That sounds like the badger!

Yellowfang raced through the trees, and found herself heading into a stretch of territory where the trunks grew more thickly, with brambles underneath to tear at her pelt and tangled undergrowth to block her path. Rounding a hazel thicket, she halted with a yelp of shock. She was standing on a small hillock, looking down into a circle of thorns where Raggedpelt was crouching. The only gap, the only way of escape, was blocked by a huge, ragged-furred badger. It had its back to Yellowfang, but she could hear its fierce snarling and its stink washed over her, making her eyes water.

Raggedpelt was lashing out bravely at the badger’s head and shoulders, but the creature’s thick fur softened his blows. He was backed against a tangle of brambles, unable to use his greater agility to dodge the badger’s attack. A storm of pain assailed Yellowfang as the beast struck at Raggedpelt again and again with heavy, blunt claws. Its yellow teeth snapped perilously close to his neck.

Trying to ignore the stinging all over her pelt, Yellowfang bunched her muscles to leap down and join the fight. Then she noticed two tiny snouts poking out from the midst of the brambles behind Raggedpelt.

Oh, no! Raggedpelt is between the mother and her den!

Yellowfang leaped into the fray, but in the same heartbeat more terrible pain seized her, as if the badger’s claws were raking across her body. She landed badly, falling onto one side, then forced herself to struggle to her paws.

You’re not hurt, she told herself. This is Raggedpelt’s pain you’re feeling. If you don’t help him, he’ll be wounded even more.

Gritting her teeth, Yellowfang flung herself onto the badger’s back. The fierce creature reared its head, snapping and snarling, but its jaws couldn’t reach her. Yellowfang clung on, forcing her claws into the soft fur behind the badger’s ears. She could hear the cubs squealing, and felt a momentary stab of pity. This mother badger is only trying to protect her cubs. Then she forced the pity down. She’s hurting my Clanmate!

“I’ll draw it away!” she gasped to Raggedpelt. “Then run!”

Yellowfang sprang off the badger’s back, flinching as the animal swiveled its head and fixed its tiny, berry-bright eyes on her. Somehow, she had to entice the badger away from Raggedpelt. She limped backward, hardly needing to pretend to be injured because of the sensations that were coursing through her body.

Come on, badger! Follow me, and let Raggedpelt escape. When another wave of agony washed over her, Yellowfang had to struggle to stay on her paws. I’m not hurt. I’m not bleeding. This is Raggedpelt’s pain. I have to fight through it!

With a roar of fury the badger lumbered toward her, one huge paw outstretched to strike. Yellowfang waited until the last moment, then sprang up, clawing at the creature’s muzzle. The badger staggered sideways, leaving a narrow space between its flank and the thorns.

“Run, Raggedpelt!” Yellowfang screeched.

Raggedpelt slipped through the gap before the badger could trap him again. Once clear of the thorns he turned, crouching beside Yellowfang, ready to help her fight. Yellowfang could see that her Clanmate’s pelt was clumped and spiky with blood, and more blood was welling from wounds in his shoulder and side. “Get away!” she hissed.

“You can’t fight alone!” Raggedpelt gasped.

“Just go, flea-brain!”

Yellowfang darted in again, leaping to claw the badger on one side of its snout. Glancing back, she saw that Raggedpelt was limping away, leaving spatters of blood on the grass. Snarling another challenge to the badger, she slowly backed off, then spun around and fled after her Clanmate.

“Are you mouse-brained?” Raggedpelt demanded when she had caught up to him. “You didn’t have to take a risk like that. You should have gone to fetch more warriors.”

“There was no time,” Yellowfang flashed back at him. “You would have bled to death before I got back to the camp!” Every word was an effort. Raggedpelt’s hurt was flooding over her so strongly that she barely had the strength to put one paw in front of another.

“Are you okay?” Raggedpelt’s anger gave way to concern. “Are you wounded?”

“I’m fine…” Yellowfang gasped. “You’re the one who needs help. Here, lean on my shoulder.” And StarClan grant that the badger isn’t chasing us!

Whole moons seemed to pass before the entrance to the camp came into sight. Yellowfang shoved Raggedpelt into the brambles and staggered after him. The camp was quiet; Yellowfang guessed most of the cats were out on patrol, or training.

Featherstorm was sitting near the warriors’ den with Brightflower. She glanced up as her son and Yellowfang emerged into the camp. Instantly she sprang to her paws and rushed across the clearing to Raggedpelt’s side.

“Raggedpelt!” she screeched. “What happened?”

As soon as he reached the clearing Raggedpelt had collapsed on his side, his chest heaving. “Badger!” he gasped.

Brightflower raced over to the medicine cat’s den, calling for Sagewhisker, who ran over to examine Raggedpelt. The medicine cat gave him a few rapid sniffs, then looked up at Yellowfang. “I think we need to talk. Wait for me in my den while I look after Raggedpelt.”

Words crowded into Yellowfang’s mind, of protest or denial that they had anything to say to each other, but she left them all unspoken. Nodding, she paced across the clearing and slid between the rocks into Sagewhisker’s den.