Yellowfang’s Secret

Chapter 34

The sound of cats crashing through the brambles woke Yellowfang. She sat up in her nest. The night was starless, pitch-black, and a brisk leaf-fall wind scoured across the camp. Are we being attacked?

Then the sound of familiar voices drifted into the medicine cats’ den. Yellowfang let the fur on her neck lie down. It’s only a night patrol returning.

A moon before, shortly after he became deputy, Brokentail had decided that the Clan should start patrolling the borders at night. “Other Clans might attack us under cover of darkness,” he had stated. “But they’ll discover that ShadowClan is ready for them.”

Runningnose stirred in his nest beside Yellowfang. “These night patrols are a waste of time,” he complained. “We’re no more at risk of attack than the other Clans, because they’re all sleeping like we are.”

“Fox dung! StarClan-cursed thorns!” A voice sounded a couple of tail-lengths away.

“At least we should be sleeping,” Runningnose added dryly.

There was a rustle of movement as a cat slipped between the boulders into the den; Yellowfang recognized Frogtail by his scent. “What is it?” she called.

“I wrenched my shoulder jumping down from a tree trunk while I was on patrol,” Frogtail explained. “You can’t see your paw in front of your face on a night like this.”

Yellowfang sighed. “Come over here.”

She did her best to examine Frogtail’s shoulder in the dark. She could feel heat in his muscles and she let down her defenses, allowing herself to feel his pain briefly so that she could judge how bad it was. “You’ll live,” she grunted.

“Do I need herbs?” Frogtail meowed. “Poppy seeds to sleep?”

“No, your pain isn’t that bad,” Yellowfang told him. Brokentail’s new schedule of extra patrols and training had meant more injuries than usual and stocks of herbs were low. “You’ll be fine if you just rest.”

“Are you sure?” Frogtail sounded disappointed. “I can’t afford to miss any training, or Brokentail will put me back on apprentice duties.”

ShadowClan had no apprentices at the moment: Featherstorm’s litter, Mosskit, Volekit, and Dawnkit, were still too young, and Newtspeck had only recently given birth to Wetkit, Littlekit, and Brownkit. Until more kits could be apprenticed, the warriors were taking turns performing the duties.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Yellowfang suggested. “Apprentice duties will be easier on your shoulder than training and patrolling.”

“I guess,” Frogtail muttered. “Thanks anyway, Yellowfang,” he added as he padded out of the den.

Runningnose had already curled up again, but when Yellowfang returned to her nest, sleep eluded her. As soon as the sky began to grow pale with dawn, she made her way into the clearing. The ground was cold beneath her paws and in the dim light she could see a white rim of frost on every leaf and twig. Leaf-bare is almost upon us.

From the nursery she could hear the joyful squeaking of kits, and she pictured six warm, furry bodies squirming among the moss and pine needles. Yellowfang glowed with warmth as she imagined them growing big and strong over the next moons. But her hope was tinged with worry. Our ranks are swelling; it might become hard to feed us all. She wondered if she should pay the nursery a visit, then decided there was no need. Featherstorm is an experienced queen, and Newtspeck has really good mothering instincts.

A cough sounded behind Yellowfang. Startled, she turned to see that Nightpelt had emerged from the elders’ den. He was looking strained; his cough always troubled him more when the cold weather started to set in.

“I thought I’d go for a walk,” Yellowfang meowed. “Do you want to come?”

The black tom nodded and fell in beside her. The two cats slipped through the brambles, past Mousewing on guard, and padded into the trees. Yellowfang heaved a contented sigh as she gazed around at the territory, caught like crystal in the silver dawn. The trees and bushes were white with frost and every puddle was rimmed with ice that glittered in the growing light.

I’m so glad this is my home.

“I trained here once with Flintpaw and Clawpaw,” Nightpelt mewed as they reached a thicket of dense bushes. “Flintpaw ran into a bees’ nest in that tree over there—I’ve never heard a cat yowl so loud!”

“I remember,” Yellowfang responded; she had used up most of her stocks of dock leaves treating the young cat’s stings. “He was very brave about the pain.”

Nightpelt nodded. “He’d only just healed when he convinced us to go fishing in the stream near the big ash tree. We all came back soaking wet, and we didn’t catch a thing.”

“And Stonetooth told you to leave fishing to RiverClan,” Yellowfang recalled. “You and your denmates were always causing trouble!” She padded on a few paw steps, then asked, “Do you mind not being a warrior anymore?”

Nightpelt paused before replying. “I am still a warrior inside,” he mewed at last. “I have the same spirit, the same loyalty to my Clan. I hope that one day I will find new ways to prove this, besides warrior duties.”

“I’m sure you’ll never stop finding ways to prove your love for ShadowClan,” Yellowfang told him, touching him lightly on the shoulder with her tail-tip.

As they headed back toward the camp, they met a patrol on their way out. Stumpytail and Tangleburr were bounding in the lead, closely followed by Rowanberry, Blackfoot, and Deerfoot. Brokentail brought up the rear.

“Are you going hunting?” Yellowfang called.

“No, this is battle training,” Stumpytail announced, his whiskers quivering with excitement. “Brokentail has asked us to be dogs, and chase our Clanmates through the forest.”

Yellowfang blinked. “Doesn’t the Clan need feeding first?”

Deerfoot flicked his tail. “They can wait. It’s not like we’ll be long.”

Yellowfang and Nightpelt watched the patrol as it charged off through the trees.

“I’m going to climb a tree!” Stumpytail meowed. “Then I’ll jump down on the dogs and shred them!”

“But we’ll be too fast for you,” Tangleburr countered. “So you can stay up your tree until you freeze!”

“Brokentail has really inspired them,” Nightpelt commented as he and Yellowfang went on toward the camp. “The next cats to trespass on our territory won’t spend long on the wrong side of the border.”

Yellowfang nodded. “The Clan is certainly strong at the moment.” She sensed they were both being careful about what they said. Brokentail’s methods can sometimes be harsh; I’m sure Nightpelt would agree with me on that. The silence hung heavily between them as they pushed through the brambles into the camp.

As soon as they emerged into the clearing, Featherstorm came dashing toward them from the nursery. “Oh, Yellowfang, thank StarClan you’re back!” she exclaimed. “Volekit has started coughing.”

“I’ll come and look at him right away,” Yellowfang mewed.

She could hear the kit’s persistent cough as she slid through the entrance to the nursery. Volekit was squatting in his bedding, a miserable bundle of fur, his tiny body shaken by coughs. His two littermates looked on with wide, anxious eyes.

Yellowfang placed a paw on his chest and felt feverish heat striking through her pads. “How long has he been like this?” she asked Featherstorm.

“It came on in the night,” the she-cat replied. “How bad is it, Yellowfang? Is it whitecough?”

“I don’t think so,” Yellowfang meowed. “I’ll bring him a tansy leaf. That should do the trick.” Stroking the tiny tom’s brown pelt, she added, “You’ll feel better soon, little kit.”

On her way out of the nursery she paused beside Newtspeck, whose young litter—their eyes not open yet—was huddled into the curve of her belly. “If I were you, I’d keep the little ones away from Volekit until his cough clears up,” she advised.

Newtspeck nodded and curled her tail protectively around her kits.

On her way back from delivering the tansy leaf, Yellowfang was hailed by Hollyflower from the entrance to the elders’ den. “Poolcloud’s joints are aching,” she announced when the medicine cat padded up. “Do you have anything for her?”

Yellowfang nodded. “I’ll bring her a poultice of daisy leaves,” she replied. “And a poppy seed to help her sleep.”

But before she fetched the herbs, Yellowfang poked her head into the warriors’ den to make sure Frogtail was resting, and beckoned to Amberleaf, who was gathering up soiled bedding. “Come with me,” Yellowfang ordered. “It’s time I renewed that dressing on your ear.” Amberleaf had torn her ear in a training exercise and the wound had been reluctant to heal.

Amberleaf sighed as she rose to her paws. “Okay, Yellowfang. When can I return to warrior duties?”

“When I’m satisfied that ear isn’t infected,” Yellowfang retorted.

When she peeled off the wrapping of cobweb and goldenrod leaves, she was pleased to see that Amberleaf’s wound looked clean and healthy. “You don’t need another poultice,” she commented as she rubbed the scratch with marigold. “You can go back to your duties tomorrow provided it’s no worse.”

“Great!” Amberleaf meowed. “I think if I have to take one more tick off the elders I’ll go mad as a fox in a fit.”

Yellowfang sent her away and collected the daisy leaves and the poppy seed for Poolcloud. At the entrance to the elders’ den she met Runningnose, staggering under the weight of a huge bundle of dripping moss.

“I don’t want the elders to get their paws wet by the stream,” he explained, mumbling around his burden. “Their bedding needs changing, too.”

“Hasn’t Brokentail put any cat on apprentice duties?” Yellowfang asked.

Runningnose shook his head. “No, they’re all out battle training. Except for Amberleaf, and she’s stuck doing the warriors’ bedding all on her own.”

Yellowfang sighed. Runningnose shouldn’t have to work so hard when he’s no younger or less experienced than the other warriors. “Never mind,” she meowed. “I’ll help you with the elders’ nests as soon as I’ve taken care of Littlebird.”

Once Littlebird was dosed and comfortable, Yellowfang went into the forest again, her pleasure in the bright day dimmed by her anxiety about using so many herbs. She was carrying a bundle of moss and feathers across the clearing when Raggedstar padded up to her.

“Have you seen any hunting patrols?” he asked her.

Yellowfang shook her head. “As far as I know, they’re battle training first.”

The Clan leader’s amber eyes grew troubled. “There are hungry bellies in the Clan,” he mewed. “Elders, kits, and warriors all need feeding.”

You should talk to your deputy about that, not your medicine cat, Yellowfang thought. “Well, I have some traveling herbs that could take the edge off the worst hunger,” she suggested, “but I’m not sure I should use them up so soon before leaf-bare.”

“I don’t want my Clanmates eating your herbs!” Raggedstar’s eyes widened in shock and anger. “They should have fresh-kill!”

As he was speaking, movement by the entrance caught Yellowfang’s eye, and Brokentail plunged into the clearing. Blood spattered his muzzle and his eyes shone with triumph.

“Excellent training session,” he announced, bounding up to Raggedstar and Yellowfang. “Rowanberry and Stumpytail cornered the dogs before they were halfway to the border!”

The two dog-hunters had followed him into the camp, panting and exhausted but clearly very pleased with themselves. The other three warriors staggered into the camp; Yellowfang was shocked to see how bedraggled and battered they looked. Deerfoot was limping, Blackfoot’s shoulder was bleeding, and Tangleburr had a lump of fur missing from her side.

They must have been the dogs, Yellowfang thought. They’ve certainly had the worst of it.

“Next time, you’ll run faster!” Brokentail told them. “Now, clean yourselves up and get back to the training area. I need you to practice your defense moves.”

“They can rest first, I think,” Raggedstar meowed.

“And I ought to check those wounds,” Yellowfang added.

Brokentail stared at Raggedstar. “Rest?” He sounded surprised. “We can’t stop a battle just because we get tired! I said they can clean themselves up; then we’ll continue.”

“What about the hunting patrols?” Raggedstar prompted.

“Don’t worry,” Brokentail assured him cheerfully. “I’ve sent some cats off to find fresh-kill. That’s if they haven’t scared all the prey into hiding!”

Yellowfang gazed at Brokentail. You have so much ambition, so much drive to make your Clanmates as strong and fearless as you, she thought. I wonder where your spirit comes from. Is it partly from me?

Yellowfang was putting away a fresh supply of dock leaves when Runningnose padded up behind her and touched her shoulder with his tail.

“Have you forgotten it’s the half-moon? We should be on our way to the Moonstone.”

Yellowfang blinked at him in confusion. “There’s so much to do here, it slipped my mind,” she confessed.

Runningnose gave her shoulder a brief stroke. “I’ll stay behind and get on with the work, if you like,” he offered. “I don’t mind missing the meeting for once.”

Yellowfang pushed her nose into his shoulder fur, grateful for his sensitivity. “I’m sure it will be routine,” she mewed. “I haven’t heard anything from the other medicine cats lately.”

With a quick farewell, Yellowfang headed out of the camp and across the forest to the tunnel that led into WindClan territory. Emerging from the other end, she bounded over the tough moorland grass, suddenly anxious that she would be late and miss the moment when light poured down onto the Moonstone. She was relieved to spot Featherwhisker of ThunderClan and Brambleberry of RiverClan padding ahead of her, and picked up her pace to catch up to them. Brambleberry had a younger cat with her who was a stranger to Yellowfang.

“This is Mudpaw, my new apprentice,” she announced proudly when she had greeted Yellowfang.

Yellowfang dipped her head to the young tom. “Welcome to the company of medicine cats.”

“Thank you.” Mudpaw’s eyes shone. “I can’t believe I’m going to meet our ancestors!”

“I should have an apprentice of my own next time,” Featherwhisker announced. “Spottedkit will be Spottedpaw by then. She’s always poking about my stores; I think she’s going to be a great medicine cat!”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Brambleberry mewed.

At the far side of the territory Hawkheart and his apprentice, Barkpaw, were waiting, and all the medicine cats traveled on together. They trekked through the farm, where a young black-and-white tom watched them from his perch on top of a wall. Yellowfang recognized him from her last visit to Highstones. He’d recently arrived there and was friendly enough to the passing Clan cats.

“Hi, Barley,” Hawkheart meowed. “Settling in okay?”

Barley dipped his head. “Everything’s fine, thanks, Hawkheart. The old barn is crawling with mice! You can all stop and eat if you like.”

“Thanks, but we don’t have time,” Featherwhisker told him. “Maybe on the way back.”

The two apprentices were walking side by side. There was a bounce in Mudpaw’s step, as if his paws were itching to run flat out to the hills.

“What’s it like, meeting a StarClan cat?” he asked Barkpaw. “What do you say to them?”

“It’s different for every cat,” Barkpaw told him. “But don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

“And do you only meet with cats from your own Clan?” Mudpaw went on. “Yellowfang, do you only see ShadowClan cats?”

Yellowfang shook her head, suppressing a shudder at the thought of some of the cats she had walked with in her dreams. “You might see more of your own Clan than others,” she replied to the eager young cat. “But not always. There’s no telling who you’ll meet in StarClan.”

Mudpaw’s eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait!”

In the cavern of the Moonstone Yellowfang found it was a bit of a squeeze for all six cats to get into position. As she settled herself she was a bit disconcerted to see Featherwhisker deliberately wriggle between her and Hawkheart.

Why does he want to be next to me? For once he hasn’t been asking his annoying questions, so what’s on his mind now? Does he think he’ll get to walk in my dreams?

The long walk had tired Yellowfang, and she relaxed as she closed her eyes. But her relief was short-lived. Darkness swirled around her like black fog, torn apart by slashing claws and tumbling, shrieking bodies. Yellowfang was in the middle of a terrible battle, choking on air that was thick with blood and fury. But there was something different about these warriors… Yellowfang loomed over them, taller by more than a mouse-length. And their shrieks were high-pitched, as piercing as rat squeals.

These were not warriors fighting, but kits!

Yellowfang stared down at the tiny mewling things, some with their eyes still closed, but when their little paws struck they left gouges that spilled with blood, and their puny teeth sank deep into one another’s fur.

Oh, StarClan, no! Yellowfang wailed silently. Why are you showing me this?

She plunged into the battle, trying to stop the kits from tearing one another apart, but they ignored her and kept on ripping and biting. Blood flowed over the ground and rose up around Yellowfang’s legs and belly like a river, clinging to her pelt.

A screech sounded behind her and she whipped around to see Molepelt, standing on a mound of earth above the battle and blood.

“Fire and blood will destroy the Clans!” he yowled.

Yellowfang tried to fight her way toward him but the tide of battling kits swept her away. Blood gurgled in her throat and thick, choking darkness covered her.

Yellowfang crouched, trembling in darkness and silence. She forced her eyes open, expecting to find herself back in the cavern of the Moonstone. Instead she was curled up in a starlit glade. A soft breeze whispered in the grass, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh green growth. Silverflame was licking her fur, as if Yellowfang were a kit once more, with her pelt ruffled from playing with her littermates.

For a couple of heartbeats Yellowfang surrendered herself to Silverflame’s gentle care. Then she whispered, “The kits! They were fighting! Why?”

Silverflame looked at her with eyes full of grief. “Terrible times are coming,” she mewed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Yellowfang asked, springing to her paws. “Just tell me how I can change things!”

Silverflame shook her head. “You can’t. The tide has turned already.”

“But there must be something I can do!” Yellowfang protested.

“Knowing something is going to happen does not give us the power to change it,” Silverflame mewed, so softly that Yellowfang could only just hear her. “Now, lie down and rest while you can. Your Clan needs you more than ever.”

In spite of her desperate anxiety, Yellowfang let the she-cat’s steady lapping soothe her, and closed her eyes. After a little while, two tiny tongues joined in with Silverflame’s, and Yellowfang smelled the heartbreaking scent of her daughters.

I must be strong for my Clan, she told herself. But StarClan, why do you make it so hard?

A moment later Yellowfang felt a cat nudging her in the side. She opened her eyes to meet the curious gaze of Featherwhisker. The moonlight was gone, and dawn light trickled in through the gap in the roof of the cave.

“Are you okay?” the ThunderClan medicine cat inquired. “What did you see?”

The ghastly vision of battling kits flooded back into Yellowfang’s memory. Ignoring Featherwhisker’s question, she yelped, “I have to get back to the camp!”

Leaving the other medicine cats behind, Yellowfang raced up the tunnel and hurled herself down the steep slope outside, her paws skidding and sliding on the pebbles. She ran all the way back to the ShadowClan camp and arrived, panting, at cold, crisp sunhigh.

Bursting through the brambles, she headed toward Raggedstar’s den. He has to know what I saw!

But before Yellowfang could reach the Clan leader’s den, he rushed out to meet her. “I must talk to you,” he meowed urgently.

Raggedstar spun her around and thrust her back through the tunnel and into the trees, away from the camp. When they were beyond the hearing of their Clanmates, he halted and faced her.

“I had a dream,” he told her, his voice shaking. “Kits fighting! Killing one another, way beyond their strength! The ground ran with blood, and I could do nothing to stop them. Yellowfang, what does it mean?”