Yellowfang’s Secret

Chapter 5

“No!” Yellowpaw gasped. “She can’t leave us!”

“I’m sorry, but she has to.” Brightflower bent her head to touch Yellowpaw’s ear with her nose.

Yellowpaw could see the desperate anxiety in Brightflower’s eyes. I know how I’d feel if Brightflower was dying. She must feel the same now that it’s her mother who’s going to join StarClan.

“I want to see her!” she choked out.

Brightflower nodded. “You can, but you must be very quiet.” She stepped back and allowed Yellowpaw to slide underneath the branches into the elders’ den.

Silverflame was lying on her side, her legs splayed out as if she were running. Her eyes were half-closed and her chest heaved with rasping breaths. Sagewhisker crouched over her while Littlebird and Lizardfang watched from the corner, their eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Yellowpaw felt as though her pelt were on fire as she drew closer to the old, sick cat. She reeled back, blinking. “She’s so thirsty!” she whispered to Sagewhisker. “Why don’t you give her something to drink? Why aren’t you treating her pain?”

Sagewhisker looked up, her eyes full of grief. “There’s nothing more I can do,” she murmured.

“There must be!” Yellowpaw wailed.

“Yellowpaw.” Littlebird rose to her paws and gave Yellowpaw a gentle nudge. “Come with me.”

“No!” Yellowpaw felt as if her whole world was full of pain and her grief for Silverflame. “I want to stay with her.”

“You can’t help her now,” Littlebird mewed softly. “Come away.”

Yellowpaw let herself be urged toward the entrance. Before she ducked under the branches, she looked back. “Good-bye, Silverflame,” she whispered.

There was no sign that Silverflame had heard her. She drew a breath that rattled in her throat. As Yellowpaw climbed out of the den, she strained her ears for the next breath. It didn’t come.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Yellowpaw whispered.

Littlebird nodded. “She hunts with StarClan now.”

Yellowpaw dug her claws into the ground. “She shouldn’t be dead. Why didn’t Sagewhisker save her?”

“It wasn’t—”

Yellowpaw cut off Littlebird’s words with a yowl of rage. “She should have saved her! What good is a medicine cat if she can’t do that?”

“Come for a walk with me,” Littlebird meowed gently.

“Yes, go with Littlebird.” Brightflower, who had waited outside the den, touched her nose to Yellowpaw’s ear.

Her eyes blurred by sadness, Yellowpaw followed the small ginger tabby out of the camp. She realized that Littlebird was heading for the marshes Deerleap had shown her earlier. It felt as though the tour of the territory had happened in another life.

“Medicine cats can only do their best with the knowledge that they have,” Littlebird told her. “StarClan wanted Silverflame to walk with them. Look,” she added, pausing beside a shrub with a few pale green leaves clinging to its spindly branches, “there’s the juniper bush that Sagewhisker used to help Silverflame’s pain. And in newleaf there’s also coltsfoot for shortness of breath—”

“But none of it did any good,” Yellowpaw snarled. “Sagewhisker should have found something better.” She lashed her tail. “What’s the use of being a medicine cat if you can’t heal your Clanmates?”

“Death is part of life,” Littlebird meowed, resting her tail on Yellowpaw’s shoulder. “Every good warrior goes to StarClan, and that’s a glorious place to end up.” She raised one paw and pointed at a star that was shining above their heads. “Look, Silverflame is watching over us now.”

“But I want her back in the Clan,” Yellowpaw whispered. The star was too far away to mean anything, and how could any cat know that it was Silverflame?

“Every cat has to leave sometime,” Littlebird murmured. “Until then, all we can do is try our hardest to be the best for our Clan.”

As leaf-bare dragged on, the hard frost made the grass sharp enough to pierce a cat’s pads like thorns, and prey stayed deep inside their holes. Yellowpaw felt as if her belly was flapping, it was so empty, but Deerleap kept her on a grueling training regime.

“I have to get up before any of you,” Yellowpaw grumbled to Nutpaw as she licked a paw and tried to rub sleep out of her eyes. “Some mornings we’re even out before the dawn patrol! And it’s never enough if I catch one piece of prey. Oh, no—we can’t come back to camp until I’ve caught two or three.”

“You’re doing great,” Nutpaw muttered. He was still curled up in the moss of the apprentices’ den, and he sounded half-asleep. “Deerleap is a fantastic mentor.”

Yellowpaw snorted, though she was pleased that she had managed to impress her brother. I’m trying really hard, she thought. Surely I’m going to be a good warrior with all this training?

“Yellowpaw!”

“Uh-oh.” Yellowpaw flinched at the sound of her mentor’s voice. “Coming!” she called as she scrambled out of the den.

Deerleap was standing a fox-length away, impatiently flexing her claws. The first faint light of dawn was creeping into the sky; Yellowpaw could barely see the outlines of the trees. Stonetooth was emerging from the warriors’ den. He arched his back in a long stretch and his jaws parted in a yawn.

Yellowpaw blinked and tried to look alert. “Where are we going today?”

“I thought we might try near the big ash tree,” Deerleap replied. “No cat has hunted there for a day or two.”

Yellowpaw’s sleepiness vanished as she headed into the forest after her mentor. The air was crisp and cold; her paws pattered on the hard ground, and she made a conscious effort to walk softly. The dawn light was strengthening as the ash tree came into sight. Deerleap gestured with her tail for Yellowpaw to take cover behind some brambles.

“Keep perfectly still,” she instructed. “Look, listen, and scent. What can you pick up?”

Yellowpaw drew herself up, her whiskers quivering with concentration, and tried to focus all her senses at once. At first she could hear nothing but the breeze in the bare branches of the ash, and the soft sound of her own breath. Then a familiar scent wafted into her jaws and she pricked her ears.

Blackbird!

She poked her head out from behind the brambles and spotted the bird pecking among the roots of the ash tree. Remembering to check the direction of the breeze, she worked her way around the outside of the thicket and dropped into her hunter’s crouch to creep up on the bird from the other direction. Stealthily, paw step by paw step, Yellowpaw edged forward, her gaze fixed on her quarry. She was aware of Deerleap watching her, which made her even more determined. I’ve got to make a good catch!

But before Yellowpaw came within pouncing distance, she accidentally stepped on a dead leaf. It crackled under her paw, and the blackbird, alerted by the tiny sound, fluttered up onto a low branch.

“Mouse dung!” Yellowpaw hissed.

She padded back to Deerleap, who was still in cover behind the brambles.

“Okay,” her mentor mewed. “What did you do wrong?”

“I stepped on a leaf.” Duh!

“And why did you step on a leaf?”

“I wasn’t aware of everything around me,” Yellowpaw admitted. “I was so focused on the blackbird that I didn’t think about where I was putting my paws.”

Deerleap gave her an approving nod. “Good. You’ll remember next time, won’t you?” Glancing out from the thicket, she added, “And now you get another chance.”

Yellowpaw poked her head out and saw that the bird was back among the tree roots, pecking away as if it had forgotten the threat.

I’ll get you this time!

Checking the wind direction again, she crept forward; this time she looked down at the ground in front of her, assessing everything that lay between her and her prey. She avoided a fallen twig, and used a clump of frostbitten grass for extra cover. At last she was close enough to pounce; bunching her muscles, she shot forward in an enormous leap, and sank her claws into the bird before it realized she was there. Once the limp body was securely in her jaws, she trotted back to her mentor.

“Well done,” Deerleap purred. “That was a perfect bit of stalking.”

Yellowpaw felt warm all over; Deerleap’s praise had to be earned. “It’s a little scrawny,” she confessed after she had dropped the bird on the ground.

“Never mind. Any piece of prey is welcome in weather like this.”

The ground was too hard to dig a hole and bury the fresh-kill while they kept hunting, so Yellowpaw scraped leaves over it before starting to search the area for more prey, moving in widening circles around the ash tree. But it seemed as if nothing else was moving in all the frozen forest. Claws of frost dug deep into Yellowpaw’s pelt, and she was almost ready to ask if they could go back to camp when she spotted a flicker of movement between two stones. Swiftly she flashed out a paw and was startled to find that she had hooked a lizard on her claws. It wriggled for a heartbeat and then was still.

“That was lucky,” Deerleap commented. “You don’t usually see those in weather as cold as this.”

Yellowpaw swelled with pride as she carried her two pieces of prey into the camp. Nutpaw and Rowanpaw were standing by the fresh-kill pile with their mentors.

“We’ve been on a hunting patrol!” Nutpaw mewed, scampering up to Yellowpaw. “I caught a mouse!”

“And Rowanpaw caught a starling,” Finchflight added. “They’ve both done very well.”

“Well, there’s no point in standing around watching our fur grow,” Deerleap meowed. “What about giving the apprentices a joint training session? They could all do with practicing their battle moves.”

“She never stops, does she?” Rowanpaw muttered into Yellowpaw’s ear as the other two mentors murmured agreement and led the way to the thorn tunnel.

“At least fighting will keep us warm,” Yellowpaw pointed out.

She and her littermates followed their mentors to the shallow training scoop not far from the camp. Raggedpaw and Scorchpaw were already there with Brackenfoot and Crowtail.

“Watch this,” Crowtail mewed. “They’re getting really good.”

The two older apprentices were circling cautiously around each other. Raggedpaw flashed out a paw, but Scorchpaw leaped backward and the blow never connected. With a yowl Raggedpaw pushed off with his hind legs and thrust himself into the air. Yellowpaw winced, expecting him to land on Scorchpaw and knock him to the ground. But while Raggedpaw was still in the air, Scorchpaw twisted onto his back. He splayed out all four legs, claws extended. Raggedpaw landed on Scorchpaw’s belly, and immediately Scorchpaw fastened his four sets of claws in Raggedpaw’s shoulders and haunches. Then he rolled over, pinning Raggedpaw to the ground.

“Enough,” Crowtail meowed, and the two apprentices broke apart. “Now try it again, and Scorchpaw, you leap this time.”

“That’s a brilliant move!” Rowanpaw exclaimed.

“It’s a good one to remember if a cat leaps on you in battle,” Brackenfoot explained as the older apprentices circled each other again. “Often the cat who’s underneath has the worst of the fight, but this way you can get back in control.”

“Can we try?” Yellowpaw asked when she had seen the move demonstrated for the second time.

“Of course,” Deerleap meowed. “That’s what we’re here for. Yellowpaw, you can work with Nutpaw. Scorchpaw, you practice with Rowanpaw.”

Rowanpaw looked slightly disconcerted at the thought of working with an apprentice who already knew the move, and Scorchpaw was obviously not too happy about being paired with a younger cat. But they knew better than to argue.

“Keep your claws sheathed,” Brackenfoot instructed. “We don’t want any shredded fur.”

Each pair of cats began circling. Yellowpaw was leaping down onto Nutpaw, who had his paws extended ready for her, when she heard a startled yowl from Rowanpaw. At the same time a sharp pain sliced through her shoulder. She let out a screech and crumpled to the ground at Nutpaw’s paws.

“For StarClan’s sake, what’s happening?” Finchflight exclaimed, bounding over to his apprentice. “Rowanpaw, are you okay?”

As Yellowpaw rolled over, gasping with pain, she saw her sister sprawled on the ground on the far side of the training area. Blood was welling slowly from punctures in Rowanpaw’s shoulder.

“Scorchpaw, we said sheathed claws!” Crowtail snapped.

“Sorry,” Scorchpaw muttered. “I forgot.”

“I don’t understand how two apprentices could be injured at the same time,” Amberleaf meowed, padding up to Nutpaw. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Nutpaw’s eyes were wide with dismay. “I never touched Yellowpaw, honestly!”

“Whatever. It still hurts,” Yellowpaw snapped, scrambling awkwardly to her paws.

“I’m okay.” Rowanpaw sat up, turning her head to swipe her tongue over the spots of blood on her shoulder. “I want to try again.”

“Okay,” Finchflight meowed. “But let’s all be more careful this time.”

The pain in Yellowpaw’s shoulder was fading, but she was wary of being hurt for a second time. When they practiced the move again, she knew she wasn’t giving it her best effort.

“Grab your opponent harder,” Deerleap advised. “Don’t think about what his paws are doing. Just concentrate on hanging on to him and pinning him down.”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Finchflight decided, when the apprentices had practiced the move once more. “Rowanpaw, you’d better see Sagewhisker about those scratches.”

Rowanpaw nodded, though Yellowpaw noticed that the claw marks weren’t bleeding anymore, and her sister hardly limped at all as they headed back toward camp. While Rowanpaw padded off to the medicine cat’s den, the rest of the apprentices and their mentors gathered around the fresh-kill pile.

“Yellowpaw, do you think you should see Sagewhisker too?” Deerleap prompted.

“No, I’m fine,” Yellowpaw mumbled through a mouthful of the squirrel she was sharing with Nutpaw.

Deerleap looked doubtful. “You’d better take the rest of the day off,” she mewed, giving Yellowpaw’s shoulder a sniff. “I can’t see any injury, but you never know. Get some rest, and see Sagewhisker if the pain doesn’t clear up.” She turned away to choose some prey for herself.

Yellowpaw didn’t want to rest. I feel okay now, she thought. Maybe I just landed badly.

When she had finished her share of the squirrel, she decided she would go off by herself to practice the new move. She still wasn’t used to being able to leave the camp on her own and she felt a thrill of confidence as she strode out through the thorns. When she had found a secluded spot in a hollow screened by holly bushes, she tried the move again: first the leap, and then rolling over to splay out her paws, ready to grab her opponent.

It doesn’t work so well with only one, she thought, disappointed.

“Do you want any help?”

The voice startled Yellowpaw; she looked up to see Raggedpaw standing at the top of the hollow. “No, I’m fine,” she mewed, scuffling her forepaws in the earth.

Ignoring her refusal, Raggedpaw padded down to join her. “You really need a partner to do that move,” he meowed.

Yellowpaw gave her fur a shake. I’d be mouse-brained not to let him help me. “Okay,” she agreed. Won’t Deerleap be surprised when she sees I can do the move perfectly!

Raggedpaw gave her a brisk nod. “I’ll leap and you grab,” he told her. “That way, you get to practice the difficult part.”

At first, Yellowpaw was afraid that she was going to be squashed into the forest floor by the heavier apprentice. “I can’t get my paws in place fast enough,” she complained, sitting up and shaking scraps of dead leaf off her fur.

“You have to watch me more closely,” Raggedpaw replied. “You should know when the leap is coming, and be ready. Try again.”

This time, Yellowpaw spotted the tensing of Raggedpaw’s muscles before he leaped. She rolled onto her back and spread her paws wide. “Got you!” she yowled as she wrapped her paws around him and flipped him over.

Raggedpaw scrambled to his paws and gave her a cool nod. “Better.”

Better? Yellowpaw thought indignantly. It was brilliant!

“You’ll be able to do it next time you’re in a training session,” Raggedpaw went on. “Now I’ve got to go. I want to hunt before it gets dark.”

“Thank you!” Yellowpaw called after him as he climbed back out of the hollow. “You really helped!”

Raggedpaw didn’t respond. Yellowpaw stood blinking after him, surprised by her feelings of gratitude. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.