Warriors Super Edition: Yellowfang’s Secret (19 page)

Yellowfang followed them. Spotting Rowanberry sitting close to the base of the rock, she bounded over to join her. “What’s all this about?” she asked.

Rowanberry licked one paw and drew it over her ear. “No idea,” she mewed.

By now most of the Clan was sitting around the rock. Finchflight and the rest of the dawn patrol—including Raggedpelt, Yellowfang noticed—were the last to arrive. When they had settled down, Cedarstar spoke.

“Yesterday, two rogues from the Twolegplace came here and asked to join our Clan. Today they will begin their training as apprentices. Red, Boulder, come here.”

A murmur of mingled surprise and hostility rose from the assembled cats as Red and Boulder sprang to their paws. For a moment they hesitated; Red tried to give her shoulders a quick grooming.

“What happened to waiting a moon for them to prove their loyalty?” Rowanberry muttered.

Yellowfang shrugged. “I guess they have to start training right away,” she mewed. “And how can they do that without a mentor?”

“Come,” Cedarstar repeated, beckoning with his tail.

Boulder and Red picked their way through the cats, who drew back to leave them an empty space at the base of the Clanrock. They halted close to Yellowfang; though they held their heads and tails high, she could see that they were both nervous.

“What happens now?” Red hissed to her out of the side of her jaws.

“You’ll be fine,” Yellowfang reassured her softly. “Just listen to Cedarstar.”

“Red,” Cedarstar began, “you have left your home in Twolegplace, and stated your wish to become a member of ShadowClan. From this time on you shall be known as Russetpaw.” His gaze traveled around the cats until it rested on Featherstorm. “Featherstorm,” he went on, “you are a skillful Clan cat with an excellent knowledge of the warrior code. I know that you will pass this knowledge on to your apprentice.”

Yellowfang bit back an exclamation of surprise.
Cedarstar knows that Featherstorm used to hang out with Twolegplace cats! Russetpaw and Boulder might be too young to remember seeing her there, but what if they heard about her from the kittypets?

Featherstorm, looking less than pleased, made her way to the front and stood waiting. “She’s your mentor,” Yellowfang whispered to Russetpaw. “Go and touch noses with her.”

With a grateful look, Russetpaw obeyed, and stood beside Featherstorm while Cedarstar continued. “Boulder, you too have asked for a place in ShadowClan. From this time on you shall be known as—”

“Hang on,” Boulder meowed.

Yellowfang gasped. No cat interrupted the Clan leader, especially when he spoke from the Clanrock.

“He’ll be crow-food!” Rowanberry muttered.

Cedarstar’s tail lashed once. “What is it?”

“I like my name,” Boulder announced, obviously unaware that he had done anything unusual. “Can I keep it?”

The Clan leader paused for a couple of heartbeats. Finally, to Yellowfang’s surprise, he nodded. “Very well. From this time on you will be known as Boulder. Mousewing, you will be mentor to this new apprentice. I trust that you will teach him the skills he needs and the behavior expected from a Clan cat.”

The thick-furred black tom shot his apprentice a heavily disapproving look. “You can be sure of that,” he told Cedarstar.

Boulder walked over to Mousewing and touched noses with him.

“I never heard of such a thing!” Lizardfang grumbled. “Apprentices picking their own names? What’s the Clan coming to?”

Littlebird replied too softly for Yellowfang to hear, though she looked more sympathetic. But Yellowfang guessed that most of the Clan would agree with Lizardfang.

“Cedarstar, have you taken leave of your senses?” Stonetooth demanded as Cedarstar leaped down from the Clanrock. “It’s bad enough welcoming rogues into the Clan, but letting him keep his name …”

The Clan leader sighed. “You have to recognize when a battle is worth fighting,” he meowed with a touch of weariness.

Stonetooth snorted.

As the Clan began to drift out of the clearing, Yellowfang spotted Raggedpelt heading in her direction. She took a pace forward, hoping that he was going to speak to her at last. But the tabby tom brushed past her as if he didn’t even know that she was there.

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, glaring after him. She let out a small, crushed sigh.
Is winning his trust a battle worth fighting? Is Raggedpelt worth all this worry?

“Look behind you, Yellowfang!” Brackenfoot’s yowl
rang clearly across the training area. “You’re fighting two enemies, remember!”

Yellowfang whirled, ducking under the blow that Boulder was aiming at her, and in the same movement crashed into his side, trying to knock him over. But Boulder scrambled out of range, and then Yellowfang had to turn again and leap away as Russetpaw charged at her.

Turn and slash … leap … turn again … got you, Russetpaw! … duck … jump back … Great StarClan, these rogues are good!

Several sunrises had passed since Russetpaw and Boulder had come to ShadowClan. Brackenfoot had taken all the apprentices for a training session; Yellowfang and Rowanberry had gone along for the practice.

“Cedarstar’s right when he says that every warrior needs to keep their battle skills sharp,” Rowanberry had commented as they followed their father to the clearing. “And we’ll show these rogues what it means to be a ShadowClan warrior.”

But as soon as Yellowfang began the training exercise, taking on Russetpaw and Boulder at once to perfect her battle skills when she was outnumbered, she realized that practicing with them was harder than she had expected. Though the two rogues had only a scant idea of Clan battle moves, they were both strong and well muscled, and flung themselves determinedly into the fight. Yellowfang felt as though every muscle in her body was taking a beating.
I’ve got to get this right,
she thought, aware that her sister and the two younger apprentices were watching from the edge of the clearing.

Yellowfang was trying the move that had worked so well in the battle beside the Twoleg fence, rearing on her hind paws and battering Russetpaw around the head with her forepaws. But Russetpaw leaped backward, and before Yellowfang could follow her, Boulder crashed into her hind legs and swept her to the ground. He thumped down on top of her, his face a mouse-length from hers, his eyes gleaming.

“Do I win?” he asked smugly.

“You do,” Brackenfoot replied. “Very good, Boulder—and you, Russetpaw. I’ll tell your mentors you fought well.”

Yellowfang scrambled to her paws, feeling bruised and indignant. It didn’t help when she heard Foxpaw exclaim loudly, “Clumsy furball! She can’t even keep her balance.”

“That move needs work,” Brackenfoot agreed more tactfully, while Yellowfang glared at the apprentice. “Try it again, Yellowfang, and this time don’t forget what might be sneaking up behind you.”

“Okay,” Yellowfang grunted.

Facing Russetpaw again, she reared up, making sure she dug her hind paws firmly into the soft ground. She landed a couple of blows on Russetpaw’s ears, her claws sheathed, then spun around at once and dropped neatly on top of Boulder as he dived at her.

“My round, I think,” she meowed as he wriggled helplessly underneath her.

“Much better,” Brackenfoot purred. “Now you can have a rest, Yellowfang, and we’ll see how Wolfpaw and Foxpaw get on.”

Panting, Yellowfang retreated to the edge of the clearing and flopped down on the moss beside Rowanberry.

“You know,” Rowanberry muttered, “Russetpaw and Boulder are much better at this than I expected. Maybe they didn’t lead such soft lives after all!”

Soft lives!
Yellowfang opened her jaws to tell her sister just how big and scary some of the cats in Twolegplace were, then realized that she couldn’t say anything without giving herself away. “They’ll be good fighters when they’re trained,” she agreed.

Enjoying the respite, she watched as Brackenfoot took Foxpaw and Wolfpaw through the same battle moves, and then let them practice with Boulder and Russetpaw. She couldn’t help a purr of satisfaction when Russetpaw landed on top of Foxpaw, squashing all the breath out of her.

“Who can’t balance now?” she whispered to Rowanberry.

While Foxpaw shook moss off her pelt, Brackenfoot called Rowanberry into the center of the clearing. Then he paused and glanced up at the sun. “It’s past sunhigh,” he meowed. “You must be starving. Let’s go back to camp for a piece of fresh-kill; then we’ll come back and finish the session.”

He headed through the trees toward the camp. The brambles were in sight when Yellowfang spotted Raggedpelt slinking away. He shot a glance at the returning cats, then veered off in the opposite direction.

Watching his hasty retreat, Yellowfang felt a stab of sympathy.
Maybe I
should
tell him that the rogues aren’t going to say anything about our visit to Twolegplace
.

“Brackenfoot, I need to talk to Raggedpelt,” she told her father, angling her ears toward the spot where the tabby tom had disappeared among the ferns.

Brackenfoot hesitated, as if he was going to insist that she come into the camp to eat and then return to the training session.

I’ve done my bit,
Yellowfang thought indignantly.
And I’m a warrior now. I can make up my own mind when I train
. “It’s important,” she insisted.

Brackenfoot nodded. “Okay, Yellowfang. See you later.”

With a nod to her Clanmates, Yellowfang bounded into the pinewoods after Raggedpelt. Everything was quiet. Yellowfang could hear her own breathing above the soft pad of her paws on the pine needles. Sunlight slanted through the trees, casting bars of light and shadow on the ground. Affection for her territory rushed over Yellowfang.
This is the best place in the forest! In the whole world!

A terrible snarling sound from somewhere up ahead jolted Yellowfang back to reality. For a heartbeat horror froze her limbs.

That sounds like the badger!

Yellowfang raced through the trees, and found herself heading into a stretch of territory where the trunks grew more thickly, with brambles underneath to tear at her pelt and tangled undergrowth to block her path. Rounding a hazel thicket, she halted with a yelp of shock. She was standing on a small hillock, looking down into a circle of thorns where Raggedpelt was crouching. The only gap, the only way of escape, was blocked by a huge, ragged-furred badger. It had its back to Yellowfang, but she could hear its fierce snarling and its stink washed over her, making her eyes water.

Raggedpelt was lashing out bravely at the badger’s head and shoulders, but the creature’s thick fur softened his blows. He was backed against a tangle of brambles, unable to use his greater agility to dodge the badger’s attack. A storm of pain assailed Yellowfang as the beast struck at Raggedpelt again and again with heavy, blunt claws. Its yellow teeth snapped perilously close to his neck.

Trying to ignore the stinging all over her pelt, Yellowfang bunched her muscles to leap down and join the fight. Then she noticed two tiny snouts poking out from the midst of the brambles behind Raggedpelt.

Oh, no! Raggedpelt is between the mother and her den!

Yellowfang leaped into the fray, but in the same heartbeat more terrible pain seized her, as if the badger’s claws were raking across her body. She landed badly, falling onto one side, then forced herself to struggle to her paws.