Yellowfang’s Secret

Chapter 32

A rustle of rat noise came from the heaps of waste, but Brackenfoot and his patrol sprang out of hiding and guarded the holes. Yellowfang could see twitching noses and the gleam of malignant eyes, but for the moment at least none of the rats dared emerge.

“Don’t let them out!” Brackenfoot yowled. “But keep far enough back so they can watch what happens!”

“Flea-pelts!” Brokentail taunted the captured rats, springing forward to score his claws down the flank of the nearest, then darting out again. “Crow-food eaters!”

The rest of the patrol copied him, driving the rats together into a tight knot and wounding them while staying out of reach of their claws. Yellowfang dug her claws into the ground. “Get on with it, before something goes wrong!” she muttered.

A heartbeat later, two rats, terrified and desperate, sprang out of the huddle and leaped upon Foxheart. Yellowfang stared in disbelief at how precise their movements were, like trained hunters. Foxheart let out a screech and crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from her neck.

“No!” Raggedstar yowled.

In the same instant, Brokentail and Cloudpelt leaped on the two rats who had attacked Foxheart, breaking their necks and tossing them into the air. Raggedstar hurled himself into the center of the knot of rats, his Clanmates only a heartbeat behind, their claws slashing and tearing. The orderly plan broke up into a chaos of shrieks and blood.

“Great StarClan!” Runningpaw whispered.

Even Yellowfang was awed as she watched the slaughter, the rats struggling to escape only to be clawed back. They hurled themselves on the warriors, who met their onslaught with teeth that ripped into them and left the rats twitching as their blood soaked into the snow.

Within moments it was over. The last of the rats that had been tempted out were dead and the ShadowClan warriors stood over them, panting. Apart from Foxheart, who lay ominously still, none of them seemed to have serious injuries. Raggedstar called Brackenfoot and the others out of the Carrionplace, while Brokentail worked himself underneath Foxheart’s body and draped her over his shoulders. He was covered in blood but as far as Yellowfang could see, it all belonged to the rats.

“We won,” Runningpaw mewed, sounding stunned.

“Yes,” Yellowfang agreed grimly, gazing at Foxheart’s body. But we paid a high price. I didn’t like her. I didn’t want to serve under her as leader. But she was too young to die.

The elders and the few cats who had remained in the camp gathered around as the warriors returned. Yellowfang spotted Rowanberry looking in horror from the entrance to the nursery as Brokentail laid Foxheart’s body in the middle of the clearing. A flash of joy warmed Yellowfang at the sight of her sister’s kits, Cinderkit and Stumpykit, peering out curiously beside their mother.

Warriors die, but the Clan survives.

Foxheart’s mother, Poolcloud, dashed out of the warriors’ den and flung herself to the ground beside her daughter. “StarClan, no!” she wailed. “Why did you have to take her?”

Wolfstep followed his mother out and crouched beside her, pushing his nose into his sister’s blood-soaked fur. “Good-bye,” he rasped. “We were so proud of you. You would have made a great leader.”

Cloudpelt, who shared a father with Wolfstep and Foxheart, padded over to her and bowed his head. “She died like a warrior,” he meowed.

Yellowfang took her place beside Foxheart’s head. “We will keep vigil for her,” she announced.

Raggedstar stayed for a short time beside the body of his deputy, then vanished into his den, reappearing as the moon rose above the trees. Leaping onto the Clanrock he summoned the Clan, though most of them were already in the clearing, clustered around Foxheart.

“I grieve for Foxheart,” the Clan leader began. “She served us well, and should have continued to do so for many seasons to come. But she died bravely, protecting her Clan from rats. She will have a place of honor in StarClan.” He paused, looking down at his Clan, and Yellowfang could feel the tension mounting, for every cat knew that this was the moment when Raggedstar must announce the name of his new deputy. Several of the cats glanced at Brokentail, who was looking particularly alert, his eyes gleaming.

“However much we miss Foxheart,” Raggedstar went on, “the Clan needs a new deputy. I say these words in the presence of her body, that her spirit may hear and approve my choice. Cloudpelt will be the new deputy of ShadowClan.”

Both Cloudpelt and Brokentail looked equally astonished. Yellowfang could see bitter disappointment in Brokentail’s eyes, and he bared his teeth in a snarl.

“Wow!” Runningpaw whispered. “I guess we all know who was hoping to be deputy!”

Cloudpelt rose to his paws and stammered, “Th-thank you, Raggedstar. I promise I will serve my Clan well.”

Raggedstar jumped down from the Clanrock while the rest of the Clan raised their voices in yowls of welcome to Cloudpelt. Yellowfang could see that he was a popular choice. She was pleased with the decision, too; she knew that Cloudpelt would make a far better leader than Foxheart, if she had lived.

Then Yellowfang spotted Brokentail cornering Raggedstar as the Clan leader tried to return to his den. I need to hear what they’re saying! Unobtrusively she eased her way over to them, halting in the shadow of the Clanrock.

“I should have been made deputy!” Brokentail growled. “The rat attack was my idea, and it worked!”

Raggedstar gazed at him with slitted eyes. “Use your brain,” he snapped. “I’m your father, and I have to be careful not to show favoritism in front of the other warriors. Besides, you need an apprentice before you can be deputy. But don’t worry. I’ve many seasons left in me, and if anything should happen to Cloudpelt, it will be your turn next.”

The thaw came and gradually newleaf crept through the forest. Pushing her way through a fresh growth of fern, Yellowfang reveled in the feeling of the sun on her thick pelt, and the sight of green shoots springing up everywhere in the frost-burned forest. Nightpelt, who had accompanied her, jumped up to swipe at a butterfly that was fluttering above the grass. Yellowfang watched him fondly as he chased it, reflecting that his cough was much better now that he wasn’t trying to keep up with all the warrior duties.

“Are you a kit?” she teased him as he came panting back to her.

“Not anymore,” Nightpelt replied with a mrrow of amusement. “I guess I’m just enjoying the sunshine.” He took a deep breath with jaws parted. “And all the prey-scent. I’m sure there’s a mouse around here somewhere.” He began to follow the scent trail and disappeared into a thick stretch of ferns. Moments later Yellowfang heard a gasp, and then his voice was raised in a startled yelp.

“Yellowfang, come here!”

Yellowfang pushed her way through the ferns. When she emerged on the other side, she found herself gazing at a small hawthorn tree. One of the newest apprentices, Stumpypaw, Rowanberry’s kit, was hanging from the lowest branch by his teeth.

“Stumpypaw!” Yellowfang exclaimed. “What in the name of StarClan are you doing?”

When Stumpypaw opened his mouth to reply, he crashed to the ground in a tangle of legs and tail. “Now I’m going to be in big trouble!” he wailed as he picked himself up. “Brokentail told me I had to stay there until he came back!”

“What?” Yellowfang exchanged an incredulous look with Nightpelt. “No mentor would do that! You must have misunderstood.”

Stumpypaw hung his head. “I was chattering during battle training, so Brokentail said I needed to learn how to keep my jaws shut.”

“There must be a better way than this!” Yellowfang meowed to Nightpelt. Stumpypaw could have permanently injured his jaw!

“Not if I say so.” Yellowfang spun around at the growled words behind her and found herself facing Brokentail. “Don’t interfere with my business, medicine cat,” he warned her.

Yellowfang blinked at the savagery in his yellow eyes. “It is my business,” she insisted, trying to stay calm. “Harsh treatment like that could injure an apprentice.”

“Nonsense!” Brokentail snarled. Jerking his head at Stumpypaw, he added, “Get back to the training area.”

Stumpypaw dashed off, and Brokentail followed with a last glare at Yellowfang. “Keep out of it!” he ordered.

“I never punished him like that when he was my apprentice,” Nightpelt commented when Brokentail had disappeared.

A pang of fear shook Yellowfang. “Maybe you should have,” she muttered.

When she returned to the camp, Yellowfang spotted the other apprentice, Cinderpaw, tucking into the fresh-kill pile with his mentor, Nutwhisker. When Stumpypaw started making his way over to join them, Brokentail stood in front of him, blocking him.

“You can eat when you’ve caught enough prey to feed the elders,” he snapped.

Stumpypaw just nodded unhappily and trailed off toward the camp entrance. Yellowfang thought he looked tired out. That’s not fair! Anger smoldering inside her, she went looking for Cloudpelt.

The Clan deputy was sitting in a patch of sunlight near the warriors’ den with Amberleaf and Finchflight, discussing the best places to hunt.

“Cloudpelt, may I talk to you in private?” Yellowfang asked as she padded up.

“Sure.” Cloudpelt rose to his paws and drew her away a couple of fox-lengths so no cat could overhear them. “What is it?”

Yellowfang mustered her courage, knowing that not even a medicine cat should question the way a mentor chose to deal with his apprentice. “It’s Brokentail,” she began. “I’m not happy about his mentoring. Have you seen how he is with Stumpypaw?”

She could see from the flicker in Cloudpelt’s eyes that he knew what she was talking about. “All mentors train in different ways,” he meowed. “It’s not my place to interfere.”

“But some cat has to do something,” Yellowfang insisted. “You can’t imagine what I saw earlier today…” She told Cloudpelt the story of Stumpypaw hanging from the tree branch.

“Was Stumpypaw injured at all?” Cloudpelt asked.

“No,” Yellowfang admitted. “But he could have been!”

“In that case, I can’t get involved—and I wouldn’t want to,” Cloudpelt told her. “Look, Yellowfang, I understand your concern for every member of the Clan, but it’s been a long time since you were a warrior. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how tough it can be for apprentices!”

There was nothing more that Yellowfang could say. Dipping her head coldly to the deputy, she turned and stalked back to her own den.

“Look, I brought you a vole,” Runningpaw announced as she slipped between the boulders. “It’s really fresh.”

“Thanks, Runningpaw.” Yellowfang flopped down beside the fresh-kill and took a bite.

“Nightpelt said you had an argument with Brokentail,” Runningpaw chirped. He sniffed and then continued, “If you don’t mind me saying so, you ought to be careful what you say to that cat. He’s bad news.”

Yellowfang blinked at him, grateful for his concern. “You know,” she mewed, “it’s time you stopped being my apprentice.”

For a heartbeat Runningpaw looked horrified, until he understood what she was really saying. “You mean I can become a full medicine cat? Wow!”

“You more than deserve it,” Yellowfang told him. “I am lucky to have had you as my apprentice.”

“And I’m lucky to have had you as a mentor.”

Yellowfang snorted with amusement. “Even if I haven’t taught you how to cure your sniff yet!”

Yellowfang and Runningpaw, with the other medicine cats, sat in the dark cave of the Moonstone as they waited for the moon to shine through the hole in the roof.

“I have sad news,” Featherwhisker reported. “Goosefeather has gone to join StarClan.”

“I’m sorry,” Brambleberry meowed, with her ready sympathy. “How do you feel, being ThunderClan’s only medicine cat?”

Relieved he doesn’t have to cope with Goosefeather muttering on, Yellowfang thought, though she would never have dreamed of saying that out loud.

“I’m coping,” Featherwhisker replied. “There’s a very promising new arrival called Spottedkit. She’s already taking an interest in my herbs, so if StarClan approves I’ll make her my apprentice.”

“I have some good news, too,” Yellowfang put in. “Tonight I’m going to make Runningpaw a full medicine cat.”

All the other medicine cats chimed in with their congratulations. In the faint starshine, Yellowfang could see that Runningpaw looked happily embarrassed.

“You’re so lucky!” Barkpaw purred.

“It will be your turn soon,” Runningpaw told him.

As he spoke the moon floated into sight, and the Moonstone woke into life, its icy radiance filling the cavern. Yellowfang rose to her paws and beckoned to Runningpaw to join her beside the shining stone. He was shivering with excitement as he padded up to her.

Yellowfang took a breath, remembering the words from her own ceremony. “I, Yellowfang, medicine cat of ShadowClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the way of a medicine cat, and with your help he will serve his Clan for many moons. Runningpaw,” she meowed, “do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do,” Runningpaw replied in an awed whisper.

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your true name as a medicine cat. Runningpaw, from this moment you will be known as Runningnose. Your name will be a reminder that medicine cats cannot cure everything—but we always need to have faith enough to try. StarClan honors your intelligence and your dedication. Now come, touch your muzzle to the Moonstone, and may all your dreams be good ones.”

Runningnose crept forward and rested his nose against the shining surface. Yellowfang crouched down beside him and the rest of the medicine cats took their places.

When Yellowfang closed her eyes she was immediately swept out into a place of darkness and cold. She could feel her paws standing on rock, but she couldn’t see anything. Then jagged flashes of scarlet broke up the darkness, and high-pitched shrieking battered at her ears. The shapes of kits appeared before Yellowfang’s eyes, but these were not the warm, furry bundles of her Clan’s nursery. Instead, their tiny bodies were ripped from their mothers’ bellies in fountains of blood, while the mother cats clutched at them helplessly.

Yellowfang rushed to and fro trying to save the kits from the unseen claws that were tearing them away. But her pads slipped on the blood, the stench of it filling her nose and throat. However hard she struggled, the dying kits were always just out of reach of her stretching paws.

“No! No!” she yowled.

Something hard pressed into her side. Yellowfang opened her eyes to see Runningnose poking her with one paw. His eyes were wide and scared.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “But you were crying out. I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing by waking you?”

“No… no, I’m fine,” Yellowfang rasped, tottering to her paws. The light from the moon had gone, and the cave was illuminated by the faint sheen of stars. In the faint glimmer she could see the other medicine cats watching her anxiously. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “It was just a bad dream.”

“It was more than that,” Runningnose insisted. “Yellowfang—”

“Enough!” Yellowfang snapped. “We only share our dreams with our leader. They are not for idle gossip!”

Whirling around, she stomped up the passage ahead of the others.