Yellowfang’s Secret

Chapter 18

The next half-moon dragged by, slow as a snail. Yellowfang remained in Sagewhisker’s den, gradually recovering from the battle with WindClan. Sometimes she thought her wounds would never heal. She longed to be out in the forest, hunting for her Clan, but she felt shaky every time she rose to her paws. And she couldn’t forget what Sagewhisker had said to her when she came back from the fight.

You have to be a medicine cat…

She was stretching her back one morning, longing for her strength to return, when Sagewhisker slipped into the den with a worried look on her face.

“What’s the matter?” Yellowfang asked.

Sagewhisker twitched her ears. “It’s Nettlespot. Her milk is drying up again. Poolcloud is hunting for her, but there’s so little prey in this weather, and when Poolcloud does catch something, Nettlespot doesn’t seem to want it.”

“That’s not good,” Yellowfang commented. “She’ll get weaker if she won’t eat.”

Sagewhisker nodded. “Find me something to build up her appetite, will you?”

Yellowfang headed for the stores. “Sorrel should be good for that,” she murmured, half to herself, remembering how Sagewhisker had once used it for Lizardfang when the elder refused to eat. She went to uncover the hole where the herb was kept, reached down, and brought up a few shriveled leaves, which she held out to Sagewhisker.

“Thanks,” the medicine cat meowed. Giving Yellowfang’s wounds a sniff, she added, “Those are almost healed. You’ll be well enough to attend Russetpaw’s and Boulder’s warrior ceremony.”

“They’re being made warriors?” Yellowfang exclaimed. “Have they passed their final assessment?”

Sagewhisker nodded. “Yesterday.”

“So much has happened since I’ve been stuck in here!” Yellowfang sighed.

Sagewhisker took the herbs from her and shot her a sharp glance. “It’s only the medicine den, not the far side of the moon,” she pointed out dryly. “There are worse places to be, and often it’s the best place to know what’s happening in every corner of the camp.”

Before Yellowfang could respond, Raggedpelt ducked in between the boulders. Yellowfang let out a pleased purr at the sight of him. He had visited her every day since the battle, always asking Sagewhisker when she could return to warrior duties.

“She can try her legs outside the camp today,” the medicine cat announced, forestalling the inevitable question before leaving the den with the sorrel leaves for Nettlespot.

Raggedpelt’s eyes gleamed. “Great! Yellowfang, why don’t we walk to the big oak tree?”

Cedarstar’s voice outside interrupted them. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!”

“It must be time for Russetpaw’s and Boulder’s warrior ceremony,” Yellowfang meowed.

Raggedpelt narrowed his eyes, but he said nothing. The rest of the Clan was already gathering in the clearing. Boulder and Russetpaw stood at the front, near the base of the Clanrock. Their heads were raised, although they both looked nervous. Their mentors, Featherstorm and Mousewing, sat side by side close by.

Cedarstar signaled with his tail for silence. “These two cats,” he began, “came to us from the Twolegplace. At first many of us were afraid that they would not fit into Clan life. I’m pleased to say that we were wrong. Featherstorm, has Russetpaw learned the ways of the Clan and proven herself worthy of becoming a warrior?”

Featherstorm dipped her head. “She has.”

“And Mousewing, can you say the same of Boulder?”

“He is a true ShadowClan cat,” Mousewing responded.

Both apprentices seemed to swell with pride. Cedarstar leaped down from the Clanrock to stand in front of them. “I, Cedarstar, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon these apprentices,” the Clan leader began. “They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn. Russetpaw, Boulder, 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,” Boulder meowed; his voice carried strongly to the rest of the Clan.

“I do,” Russetpaw vowed more quietly.

“Then by the powers of StarClan,” Cedarstar continued, “I give you your warrior names. Russetpaw, from this moment you will be known as Russetfur. StarClan honors your loyalty and courage, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

He laid his muzzle on the top of Russetfur’s head, and Russetfur bent to lick his shoulder.

Then Cedarstar turned to Boulder. “I know that you don’t wish to change your name,” he mewed. “StarClan will see you are a warrior by what you do, rather than what you are called. They honor your bravery and determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

Loud yowls of congratulation burst from the Clan. The two newcomers, regarded with such suspicion to begin with, had clearly earned their popularity among their Clanmates.

“Russetfur! Boulder! Russetfur! Boulder!”

But Raggedpelt didn’t join in. He stood watching with his jaws firmly closed and a look of grim disapproval in his eyes. Yellowfang tried to yowl twice as loud to make up for his silence, knowing that there was no point in challenging him about it.

“How about that walk?” Raggedpelt meowed when the ceremony was over and the cats split up to go about their duties. “Maybe we can pick up some prey on the way.”

“Fine,” Yellowfang replied, falling into step beside him. “Though I’m not sure I’ll make it as far as the big oak.”

Her wounds still felt sore, and her legs were weak from lack of exercise, but it was good to take in long breaths of cold, fresh air, and to see something other than the walls of the medicine cat’s den.

“We must get you back into battle training,” Raggedpelt decided as they padded through the forest. “Then the next time WindClan attacks, you’ll be better prepared. I’ve been thinking about some new fighting moves…”

Yellowfang listened with a sinking feeling in her belly while he described his ideas to improve her skills.

“Well? What do you think?” Raggedpelt prompted when he had finished.

“I—I’m not fully healed yet.” Yellowfang sought desperately for excuses. “Maybe in another quarter moon…”

Raggedpelt halted, his whiskers twitching. “Warriors have to be strong at all times!” he reminded. “You only feel weak because you’ve been sitting in a nest for too long.”

Yellowfang bowed her head. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

By the time she and Raggedpelt returned to camp, Yellowfang was worn out. Heading for the medicine cat’s den, she met Sagewhisker on her way out.

“It’s the night of the half-moon,” Sagewhisker meowed. “I’m going to the Moonstone to meet the other medicine cats.”

“I hope all goes well,” Yellowfang told her. She thought about the way ThunderClan’s medicine cat had been asking questions about ShadowClan at the last Gathering, and wondered if Featherwhisker would quiz Sagewhisker as well.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Sagewhisker replied. “Yellowfang, I want you to stay in my den for one more night. You can go back to the warriors’ den tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Yellowfang agreed.

Raggedpelt touched his nose to her shoulder. “Let’s eat first,” he suggested.

After she had shared a vole with him, Yellowfang retreated to her nest in Sagewhisker’s den. Her head felt fuzzy with tiredness, and as soon as she curled up in the moss she sank deeply into sleep. She woke in darkness to the sound of a startled meow and a sharp blow in her ribs as a cat tripped over her.

“Sorry, Yellowfang. I forgot you were there.”

It was Poolcloud; Yellowfang made out her pale pelt in the light of the half-moon and smelled fear on her fur.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“It’s Cloudkit,” Poolcloud replied anxiously. “He keeps vomiting; he must have eaten something bad when Nettlespot wasn’t watching. I came to look for some herbs that will help him.”

The wrong herb might kill the poor little scrap, Yellowfang thought, heaving herself out of her nest. “I’ll see if I can find you something,” she mewed.

Not yarrow, she decided as she padded over to the herb stores. That will make him sicker. What we need is willow.

When she poked a paw down the hole where the willow leaves were kept, she found that only a tiny fragment was left. “There’s not much here,” she told Poolcloud. “But it’s probably enough for a tiny kit like Cloudkit.”

Poolcloud nodded, flustered. “Whatever you think is best, Yellowfang.”

Yellowfang led the way out of the den with the scrap of leaf in her jaws. A sour smell of vomit hit her in the throat as she entered the nursery. In the dim light she made out Nettlespot crouched over Cloudkit, who was stretched out in the moss, his fur dark and clumped with sweat. As Yellowfang approached his belly heaved and he started retching, but nothing came out of his parted jaws.

“There’s nothing left inside him,” Poolcloud murmured. “Poor little mite!”

Nettlespot looked up as the two she-cats entered. “Please, you have to fetch Sagewhisker!” she begged. “I lost his sister, and I can’t bear to lose this one as well.”

“Sagewhisker has gone to the Moonstone. I’ve brought something to treat him with,” Yellowfang meowed, setting the willow leaf down in front of Cloudkit.

“What are you doing?” Nettlespot reached out and blocked Yellowfang with one paw. “You’re not a medicine cat. Leave him alone! You might make him worse!”

“It’s okay, Nettlespot,” Poolcloud mewed gently, resting her tail-tip on the distraught queen’s shoulder. “Yellowfang knows which herb to use, and Sagewhisker isn’t here, so we don’t have a choice.”

Nettlespot hesitated for a moment and then drew back, letting Yellowfang get close to her kit. She watched with wide, worried eyes as Yellowfang chewed up the willow and carefully pushed the pulp into Cloudkit’s mouth.

Cloudkit let out a pitiful mewling sound. “Yuck!”

“It’s okay,” Yellowfang comforted him, massaging his throat with one paw until she was sure he had swallowed the leaf. “It tastes nasty but it will make you feel better soon. Poolcloud, will you get me some moss soaked in water?”

The gray-and-white she-cat gave a swift nod and vanished from the den. She was back more quickly than Yellowfang could have hoped, carrying a dripping bunch of moss in her jaws. She brought it to Cloudkit, who sucked in the water eagerly. Yellowfang thought that he was already looking a little livelier. She tore off part of the wet moss and used it to clean up his face and ears. Not sure what else to do, she bent down toward the kit, pressing one of her ears against his belly; she could hear a churning sound, almost like water falling into a pool.

“That’s right,” she told him. “Keep drinking as much as you can.”

Nettlespot had watched every movement Yellowfang made, like a hawk about to swoop on its prey. Yellowfang could feel her tension, and knew that she would lash out if anything went wrong. But Cloudkit was relaxing now, blinking up at his mother.

“Want milk,” he mewed.

Nettlespot lay on her side and began drawing him closer to her with her tail.

Yellowfang thought fast. “No, don’t do that,” she meowed. “Keep him on water for tonight, to give his belly a rest.”

Cloudkit let out a mew of protest, and Nettlespot glared at Yellowfang, then reluctantly nodded. “But only until dawn, when Sagewhisker comes back,” she added.

Yellowfang clawed away the vomit-soaked bedding, and Poolcloud brought more from the far side of the nursery before going out again to fetch another bundle of wet moss. Once Nettlespot and Cloudkit were settled comfortably, Yellowfang left.

“Thank you,” Poolcloud mewed, following her out of the nursery. “You were brave to step in and help. I’m sure Cloudkit will be fine until Sagewhisker comes back.”

“I hope so,” Yellowfang muttered, stumbling back to the medicine cat’s den and collapsing into her nest.

Hardly a heartbeat seemed to pass before she was woken again by a cat prodding her in the ribs. She opened her eyes to see Poolcloud bending over her.

“Is it Cloudkit?” she asked, springing to her paws. “Is he worse?”

“No, he’s fine,” Poolcloud reassured her. “He slept through the night, and now he’s wriggling around like a fox in a fit, wailing for milk. Nettlespot didn’t give him any,” she added. “She’s keeping him on water, just like you said.”

Yellowfang winced. Don’t listen to my advice. I’m not a medicine cat!

She followed Poolcloud across the camp to the nursery. The dawn sky was milky pale above the camp, and a fresh breeze was blowing, ruffling Yellowfang’s thick gray fur. Nettlespot was still lying in her nest, while Cloudkit jumped up and down beside her in the moss.

“I’m hungry!” he complained. “Why can’t I have milk? I was sick yesterday, not today!”

“He’s much better,” Nettlespot meowed, with a nod to Yellowfang. Her eyes glowed as she gazed at her active kit.

Suddenly the light from the entrance to the nursery was cut off; Yellowfang glanced around to see Sagewhisker looking in.

“What’s this I hear about Cloudkit?” she mewed. “He looks fine to me.”

“He’s better now,” Nettlespot replied. “But he was so sick last night. I was scared for him.”

“I gave him willow, and told Nettlespot to keep him on water overnight,” Yellowfang explained a little nervously.

“And I’m hungry!” Cloudkit repeated.

Sagewhisker let out a soft mrrow of sympathy. “Let him feed for a short while,” she instructed Nettlespot. “But Yellowfang was right to only allow him to have water until his belly had settled.”

After Sagewhisker had examined Cloudkit and left him peacefully suckling, she led Yellowfang back to her den. “You did well,” she told her. “Without you, Cloudkit might not have made it until I got back.”

Yellowfang shrugged. “Well, I’m bound to have picked up something about herbs, living in here for so long.”

Sagewhisker faced her with a look of gentle determination. “Don’t you think you should stop avoiding the real issue?” she pressed. “Yellowfang, your destiny is to be a medicine cat. Are you ready to accept that?”

Yellowfang felt as if the ground underneath her paws was giving way. “I’m a warrior!” she protested. “I’m too old to become an apprentice again.”

“Nonsense,” Sagewhisker mewed briskly. “You’ll be a better medicine cat for having had extra experience. You know exactly what it’s like to take part in a fight, and which wounds hurt the most. You have a good memory for herbs, too—you proved that when you took the willow to Cloudkit. And you have the courage to act on your instincts.”

With every word the medicine cat spoke, Yellowfang grew more and more reluctant. I’m not going to do this. She can’t make me! “You only think I should train with you because I can tell you when cats are in pain!” she blurted out.

Sagewhisker gazed seriously at Yellowfang. “You have an ability I’ve never come across before,” she meowed. “I don’t know of any other cats, even medicine cats, who can feel pain in others the way you do. It has been given to you for a reason, and I can only think it means that you should become a medicine cat yourself.”

Yellowfang was startled by the somber note in Sagewhisker’s voice; it made her feel uneasy. “I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered.

“None of us ask for our destinies,” Sagewhisker pointed out. “Only StarClan knows the reason behind the paths we must walk.”

“I—I need time to think about it.”

“No!” Sagewhisker’s voice was unexpectedly forceful. “You’ve had enough time! Have the courage to do this. I will help you every step of the way, but you can’t keep hiding from it. We must start now, because I won’t be here forever.”

Yellowfang felt a sudden chill around her heart. Sagewhisker is getting old, and she’s never had an apprentice. What would ShadowClan do without a medicine cat?

Right from being a kit, Yellowfang had wanted to be the best warrior she could, to serve her Clan. Now she had to face the fact that she might serve her Clan better by turning her paws onto another path.

“Okay.” The one word took an enormous effort, and her voice shook as she went on. “If Cedarstar agrees, I will become your apprentice.”

“Thank you,” Sagewhisker meowed. “I’ll speak to Cedarstar now.” The old she-cat looked shrewdly at Yellowfang. “You should go and tell Raggedpelt, don’t you think? Things are going to be very different now.”

Yellowfang felt a hollow place in her belly, and a pain worse than the pangs of hunger. She hadn’t thought about what effect this would have on her future with Raggedpelt. Dipping her head to Sagewhisker, Yellowfang padded out of the den. Her fur burned with awkwardness as she went looking for her mate. He wasn’t in the camp, but when she headed for the training place she heard his voice raised in a savage yowl, and Crowtail’s voice responding in protest. “Hey, watch it! You’re not fighting WindClan cats now!”

Yellowfang reached the clearing to see Raggedpelt and Crowtail facing each other, their chests heaving and their tails lashing. “Sorry to interrupt,” she called. “Crowtail, I need to talk to Raggedpelt.”

The black tabby she-cat relaxed. “Okay,” she puffed. “We’re just about finished here anyway. That last backflip and twist worked really well, Raggedpelt.” With a nod to him she headed back toward the camp.

The tabby tom bounded over to Yellowfang; she could see the excitement from the practice was still surging through him. “Are you coming back to warrior duties?” he demanded.

“No.” Yellowfang gazed at him, realizing all over again how much he meant to her. The words stuck in her throat like a piece of old crow. I have to end everything—and I’ve never been less sure about a decision in my life. “I’m going to become Sagewhisker’s apprentice,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Raggedpelt stared at her. “Not funny,” he meowed.

“I’m not joking.”

The next heartbeat of shocked silence seemed to stretch out for a moon. Then Raggedpelt threw back his head and sent a furious yowl into the leaf-bare trees. “Is it because you’re a coward?” he snarled. “Did the fight with WindClan scare you too much?”

“Never!” Yellowfang flashed back at him. “I just cannot inflict pain on other cats, not anymore. Sagewhisker says this is my destiny.”

“You’ll lose me as well as your life as a warrior,” Raggedpelt reminded her. “I thought you cared! I thought you wanted to spend your life with me. I—I even thought we might have kits one day.”

“I thought the same,” Yellowfang mewed, feeling her heart break. “I care for you so much! But I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Raggedpelt growled, turning his back on her. “And I thought you had chosen me.”