Yellowfang’s Secret

Chapter 13

Yellowfang froze as a leaf drifted down right in front of her nose, but the lizard she was stalking through the marsh grass paid no attention. Leaves are falling all the time now, Yellowfang thought. Prey was becoming scarce as the foliage grew sparser, and her belly growled with hunger. The air was chilly with the promise of leaf-bare.

Setting her paws down with all the care she could muster, Yellowfang crept up on the lizard where it had halted in a clump of thicker grass. But as she was waggling her haunches in preparation to pounce, another cat flashed past her in a blur of movement. Raggedpelt’s paws were outstretched, but he landed a mouse-length short. The lizard vanished, flickering away into the grass.

Yellowfang sat up. “Hey!” she yowled. “That was my prey.”

“You were too far away for a good pounce,” Raggedpelt retorted, turning to glare at her from wide amber eyes.

“Huh! And you weren’t, I suppose.” Yellowfang flexed her claws and felt her shoulder fur beginning to bristle. “So how come neither of us has any prey for the Clan?”

Raggedpelt took a breath to go on arguing, then let it out in a sigh. His tail drooped. “You’re right,” he admitted, ducking his head. “I’m sorry. That was mouse-brained.”

Yellowfang let out a sound that was half purr, half growl. “It’s okay, stupid furball,” she mewed, giving his cheek a lick.

Raggedpelt stepped back, but only a little; the anger in his eyes had given way to warmth. “Since we’re both after the same thing, why don’t we hunt together?” he suggested.

Yellowfang blinked, holding his gaze. It felt so good to be friends with Raggedpelt again, patrolling and hunting together since he had recovered from the wounds the badger had given him. “Why not?” she agreed.

Brushing through the thorn tunnel, Yellowfang was satisfied with the result of the hunt. She was carrying a squirrel; it was thin, but it was the best piece of prey she’d spotted all day. And I almost didn’t catch it. One more heartbeat, and it would have escaped up that tree.

Raggedpelt had caught another lizard to make up for the one he had lost. Together the two cats bounded across the clearing and dropped their prey on the fresh-kill pile.

“That went well,” Raggedpelt declared. “We should hunt together more often. We make a strong team.”

Yellowfang nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Remember the other day, when you chased that rabbit right into my claws? That was—” He broke off as Foxpaw came hurtling across the clearing and skidded to a halt in front of the fresh-kill pile.

“Wow, a squirrel!” she exclaimed, her eyes stretching wide. “Congratulations, Raggedpelt.”

“It’s Yellowfang’s squirrel,” the tabby tom responded. “It was a great catch, too.”

Foxpaw’s enthusiastic expression faded abruptly; Yellowfang guessed that the squirrel suddenly wasn’t as impressive. With a disdainful curl of her lip the apprentice turned her back. Yellowfang rolled her eyes. Foxpaw is always in a huff about something.

“Yellowfang!”

At the sound of Littlebird’s voice, Yellowfang turned to see the elder standing at the entrance to her den, a few tail-lengths away.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Oh, Yellowfang…” the elder began. “There’s a tick at the base of my tail, and I can’t reach it. I wonder if you could—”

“Aren’t there any apprentices to deal with your ticks?” Yellowfang interrupted, staring pointedly at Foxpaw.

“But I’m asking you, Yellowfang,” the elder insisted.

Yellowfang’s pelt burned at the smug look on Foxpaw’s face. She was conscious of the apprentice’s gaze following her as she plodded over to the elders’ den. Inside, the den was warm and stuffy. Lizardfang wasn’t there, so there was plenty of room for Littlebird to stretch out and show Yellowfang where the tick was.

Yellowfang was still cross that Littlebird had ordered her around in front of Foxpaw. She didn’t want to go to Sagewhisker for mouse bile, so she dealt with the tick by gripping it in her teeth and tugging. It came out, and she ground it into the bracken underpaw.

“That’s better,” Littlebird sighed, craning her neck to give her fur a lick. After a heartbeat she added casually, “I see you and Raggedpelt are getting along much better since he was attacked by the badger.”

“Yeah… I guess,” she muttered.

“I’ve seen the pair of you fall out before now,” the elder went on, sounding concerned.

Yellowfang just gave a noncommittal grunt, not meeting Littlebird’s gaze.

“You know, Yellowfang,” Littlebird meowed, “I’m sure you have a long future ahead of you. There’s no need to rush into pairing up with a mate.”

Embarrassment prickled Yellowfang’s paws. “I’m not in a rush to do anything!” she protested.

Littlebird nodded. “That’s good.”

“I should go,” Yellowfang muttered, eager to get out of the elders’ den. “Patrols… hunting…”

“Just remember what I’ve said,” Littlebird called after her as she scrambled into the open.

More cats had gathered around the fresh-kill pile. Russetpaw and Boulder, in a patrol with their mentors, appeared laden with prey and dropped it on the pile. Poolcloud and Brightflower were sharing a pigeon, while Nutwhisker was demonstrating a battle move to Wolfpaw and Rowanberry. Foxpaw was still there, Yellowfang noticed, leaning close to Raggedpelt as he devoured a starling. Yellowfang stalked up to them in time to hear what the apprentice was saying.

“Why don’t we go hunting together, Raggedpelt?”

“You can’t go out on your own patrols!” Yellowfang informed her icily, before Raggedpelt could say anything. “You’re an apprentice!”

“Not for much longer,” Foxpaw mewed with a pert flick of her tail. “I passed my final assessment this morning!”

“Great,” Yellowfang meowed, unable to summon up much enthusiasm. She’ll be twice as obnoxious once she’s made a warrior!

“Wolfpaw was a good apprentice.” Brightflower dipped her head to Poolcloud. “I enjoyed training him. And Blizzardwing told me how quickly Foxpaw picks things up.”

“I couldn’t be more proud,” Poolcloud purred, turning her head to give her shoulder a couple of quick licks. “I know that Foxpaw and Wolfpaw will impress the whole of ShadowClan when they become warriors.”

“I’m sure they will,” Hollyflower added, padding up in time to hear the last few words.

Yellowfang jumped as Nutwhisker’s whiskers tickled her ear and he muttered, “Foxpaw is bound to be leading patrols before she even goes to her first Gathering as a warrior.”

Yellowfang nodded glumly. I don’t want to patrol with her, she thought. But I suppose I’ll have to put up with it. She’d better not try ordering me around, though!

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!”

Foxpaw gave an excited bounce. “It’s our warrior ceremony!”

Cats emerged from their dens and gathered around the Clanrock in a ragged circle. Yellowfang spotted Russetpaw and Boulder near the front, their eyes gleaming with anticipation, and realized that this was the first warrior ceremony they had seen. Featherstorm and Mousewing, their mentors, sat with them, joined after a moment by Archeye, Blizzardwing, and Deerleap. Brackenfoot bounded over to Brightflower, and the two cats sat down with Nutwhisker and Rowanberry.

Lizardfang had reappeared, and crouched outside the elders’ den with Littlebird. Yellowfang could feel the old she-cat’s gaze upon her as she padded over to Raggedpelt and sat beside him. To her relief, Foxpaw had gone to stand at the front with Wolfpaw. Raggedpelt acknowledged Yellowfang with a flick of his ears.

“One of the most important times in the life of a Clan is the making of new warriors,” Cedarstar announced. “Today, two apprentices will take their warrior vows.” His gaze searched out Brightflower, and he asked, “Is Wolfpaw ready to become a warrior?”

Brightflower dipped her head. “He is, Cedarstar.”

“And Foxpaw?” The Clan leader turned toward Blizzardwing. “Is she worthy of this honor?”

“Worthy and more,” Blizzardwing replied. “She will be an outstanding warrior.”

Cedarstar nodded. “If that is so, it’s due to your excellent training,” he told the mottled white tom.

Foxpaw had puffed out her chest when she heard her mentor’s praise.

“She’d better watch out,” Yellowfang whispered to Raggedpelt. “She’ll explode if she gets any more pleased with herself.”

Leaping down from the Clanrock, Cedarstar continued, “I, Cedarstar, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.” He beckoned Wolfpaw and Foxpaw forward with a flick of his tail. “Foxpaw, Wolfpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your own life?”

“I do,” Wolfpaw vowed, flexing his claws.

“I do!” Foxpaw’s voice rang out confidently.

“Then by the powers of StarClan,” Cedarstar announced, “I give you your warrior names. Wolfpaw, from this moment you will be known as Wolfstep. StarClan honors your courage and your loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.” He stepped forward to lay his muzzle on the top of Wolfstep’s head, and Wolfstep licked his shoulder before stepping back into the ranks of his Clan.

Then Cedarstar turned to Foxpaw, repeating the same words and giving her the name of Foxheart. “StarClan honors your energy and commitment, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

As Foxheart stepped back after licking her leader’s shoulder, the Clan exploded into yowls of welcome and congratulation. “Foxheart! Wolfstep! Foxheart! Wolfstep!”

Yellowfang noticed that Boulder and Russetpaw were joining in enthusiastically, their eyes shining as they called out the new warriors’ names. They’re not at all bitter that they haven’t been made warriors too—even though Boulder must be a few moons older.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this.” The voice was Amberleaf’s; Yellowfang glanced over her shoulder to see the older she-cat talking to Finchflight. “But those Twolegplace cats have really settled into the Clan. Maybe they’ll make warriors after all.”

Finchflight nodded. “They work hard, and Mousewing tells me they’re doing their best to understand the warrior code.”

Yellowfang was pleased to hear Amberleaf—one of the strictest cats in the Clan—praising Boulder and Russetpaw. But disappointment welled up inside her when she looked back at Raggedpelt and saw that he had turned his back on the two newcomers yet again and was moving away.

“Raggedpelt, you’re being mouse-brained,” she hissed, bounding after him. “You have to trust those two not to say anything about the time we visited Twolegplace.” When Raggedpelt just looked stubborn, she added, “They probably don’t think about their old lives at all! Any cat can see that they’re dedicated to ShadowClan now.”

Raggedpelt gave a single lash of his tail. “They’ve only been in camp for three moons. We don’t know them, so how can we trust them?” he growled. “They could still be spies!”

Yellowfang sighed. Why can’t Raggedpelt see what’s right in front of his own nose?

“Talk to you later,” she mewed abruptly, and bounded off to join Rowanberry and Nutwhisker beside the fresh-kill pile.

“I told you, you have to wake up and come on patrol!”

Yellowfang woke from a deep sleep to hear Foxheart’s strident tones filling the warriors’ den. She was drawing breath for a stinging retort when she realized that ShadowClan’s newest warrior wasn’t talking to her.

Toadskip was heaving himself out of his nest a couple of tail-lengths away. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “No need to wake the whole Clan.”

“You’d better hurry,” Foxheart went on. She was poking her head through the outer branches of the den. “Cedarheart and Stonetooth are waiting for you. We’re going to check that the badger has really gone.”

“I’m coming. Just get out of my fur, okay,” Toadskip grumbled as he gave his pelt a good shake and headed out of the den.

Foxheart pulled her head back; Yellowfang heard her scolding voice receding as the two cats trotted away.

Yellowfang stretched her jaws in a massive yawn, then curled up again in the hope of going back to sleep. She still felt tired from the previous day, when she had taken part in three hunting patrols, including one after dark to look for night prey. Hunting’s so much harder in leaf-bare, she thought drowsily. And I’m supposed to join another patrol after sunhigh.

But sleep wouldn’t come. A sharp pain was stabbing into Yellowfang’s belly, and for a moment she wondered if she’d accidentally eaten crow-food. Then she realized that the pain was different somehow. Oh, not again! This is some other cat’s pain. Get out of my fur!

For a short while Yellowfang tried to ignore the griping in her belly, but it was growing stronger with every heartbeat. Finally she had to admit that she needed to go and see Sagewhisker. Stifling a groan, she blundered out of the den, the pangs stabbing so hard that she was almost bent double. Though she tried to avoid the sleeping bodies of the other warriors, she brushed against Nutwhisker, who raised his head and blinked sleepily at her.

“Are you okay, Yellowfang?”

“I’m fine,” Yellowfang snapped. “It’s just a cramp.”

She shivered as she emerged into the open. An icy breeze was sweeping across the camp, and Yellowfang longed for her cozy bedding and the air inside the den, warm with her Clanmates’ breath. The clearing was deserted; all the cats were either huddled in their dens or out on patrol.

Another stab of pain sent Yellowfang bounding across the clearing. Sagewhisker roused and looked up in surprise as Yellowfang slipped between the stones into her den. “Is something wrong, Yellowfang?” she asked with a yawn.

By now the pain was so bad that it was hard for Yellowfang to reply. “Is there a cat with bellyache in the Clan?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Sagewhisker twitched her whiskers, fixing Yellowfang with a searching gaze. “What exactly do you feel?”

“Agony! It hurts!”

“I need a bit more detail than that,” Sagewhisker responded calmly.

“It’s… it’s like I swallowed a live rat,” Yellowfang gasped. “And it’s gnawing and clawing me from inside my belly.”

Sagewhisker nodded. “That’s hunger,” she mewed. “I’d guess that you’re picking up Nettlespot’s pain.”

That makes sense, Yellowfang thought. Nettlespot had just given birth to two kits, but one of them had died and the remaining kit was weak. “Nettlespot has always been thin,” she murmured.

“I’m worried about her, and Cloudkit,” Sagewhisker agreed. “This is a bad season for new arrivals.”

“Why doesn’t Nettlespot just ask for more food?” Yellowfang wondered aloud.

“She’s too proud,” Sagewhisker told her. “She’s a bit old to be a mother and she’s determined to prove that she can care for her kit.”

Pride won’t fill her belly, Yellowfang thought. “What can I do to help?” she asked. “I’ll be no use to the Clan with this pain in my belly. I can hardly put one paw in front of another.”

Sagewhisker gave her another close glance, then padded across her den to uncover one of her herb stores. She returned to Yellowfang with a mouthful of withered leaves. Yellowfang recognized the traveling herbs that she had eaten when she journeyed to the Moonstone.

“These will dull the edge of Nettlespot’s hunger,” she meowed, laying the bundle at Yellowfang’s paws. “Meanwhile I’ll ask one of the warriors to bring a piece of fresh-kill just for her.”

Yellowfang looked at the herbs. Evidently Sagewhisker expected her to take them to the nursery for Nettlespot. As if I was her apprentice! But there was no point in arguing, so she picked up the leaves and staggered out of the den.

Inside the nursery, Nettlespot was hunched over her kit, using her tail to draw him closer to her belly. “Cloudkit, you must feed,” she fretted.

The tiny gray scrap of fur squirmed away from her, raising his voice in a piteous mewling. “Not enough milk!”

As Yellowfang drew closer, a new spasm of pain gripped her belly, almost making her gasp and drop the herbs. Stumbling forward, she set them down in front of Nettlespot. “Eat those,” she panted. “Sagewhisker will bring you some fresh-kill to eat later.”

Nettlespot gazed up at her with dull, exhausted eyes. “Thanks, Yellowfang,” she murmured.

But Yellowfang didn’t wait for her thanks. She had already spun around and was bolting from the den, trying to shake the feelings of pain and panic from her fur. This wasn’t just an inconvenience now—it was scary, and exasperating.

How can I be a warrior if I have to bear the pain of all the Clan?