Warriors Super Edition: Yellowfang’s Secret (21 page)

Yellowfang knew she wasn’t thinking like a warrior, but she was also certain that if it had been the other way around, she would do anything to protect her kits, including attacking any animals who strayed too close to her den.

Maybe I could say that I don’t remember the way back
.

Before she could decide, she heard a triumphant yowl from Mousewing, who was sniffing among the undergrowth on one side of the path. “Over here! Raggedpelt’s scent, and blood on the bracken!”

Now Yellowfang had no choice but to lead the patrol straight to the clearing. She couldn’t work out whether she felt relieved or disappointed. When the thorns that circled the clearing came into sight, Yellowfang raised her tail to signal her patrol to halt. “It’s through there,” she meowed. “Wolfpaw, Foxpaw, don’t you dare move a paw until I tell you.”

Remembering how Deerleap had taught her to
look, listen, and scent,
she tried to detect what the badger might be doing, and what they could expect to find when they entered the clearing. But although there was a strong stink of the creature, there was nothing to be seen, and no sound came from behind the brambles.

“Yellowfang,” Archeye murmured, “we ought to have a plan before we go in there.”

Yellowfang nodded. “What do you suggest?”

Beckoning the patrol closer, Archeye went on in a low voice. “When we go through the gap, we should split up. Newtspeck, Scorchwind, and Foxpaw that way”—he drew scratches on the ground with his claws—“Mousewing, you, me, and Wolfpaw this way. We’ll try to surround her.”

“Good,” Yellowfang agreed. “I’ll follow you in and help where I’m needed. Scorchwind—” She fixed the ginger tabby with a stern gaze. “You will
not
take unnecessary risks. Got that?”

Scorchwind paused, then nodded reluctantly. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Archeye went on. “Then, when we’ve pulled down the badger, we’ll move on to her cubs. They shouldn’t give us much trouble.”

Yellowfang found herself wincing at the thought of sinking her claws into the tiny, helpless cubs.
I’m a warrior!
she told herself.
I have to do this!
“Right,” she mewed. “Let’s go.”

Mousewing was the first of the cats to burst into the clearing. But instead of veering to the side as Archeye had planned, he halted, letting out a yowl of surprise. “The badger is gone!”

Yellowfang ran in behind him and gazed around the clearing. The thorns were trampled and the bramble tendrils torn and scattered. Fresh earth showed where the badger had frantically dragged her cubs out of the den.

Thank StarClan,
thought Yellowfang.
I don’t have to kill them after all!

But then Wolfpaw called out. “Here’s their trail! We can still catch them.” Without waiting for any cat to respond he charged away along the badger’s trail.

“Wait!” Yellowfang yowled. “You can’t attack a badger by yourself!”
And
I’m
leading this patrol!
she added silently.

Wolfpaw slackened his pace enough for the rest of the cats to catch up. Yellowfang took the lead as they followed the badgers’ path through trampled undergrowth that seemed soaked through with the reek of the creatures. At first the trail led toward the Twolegplace, then veered away toward the border with the unknown woods where no cat went. Soon Yellowfang began to pick up the scent of ShadowClan markers, and halted as they reached the edge of their territory.

“We should keep going until we find them and kill them,” Scorchwind urged. “They might come back.”

“That’s mouse-brained,” Yellowfang retorted. “We should be thankful that they’ve left without more cats getting hurt.”

“You’re right, Yellowfang,” Archeye meowed. “And it’s thanks to you that the badger took her cubs away. You showed her how fierce ShadowClan warriors can be.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t get out fast enough,” Newtspeck agreed.

Yellowfang ducked her head, embarrassed by their praise. How could she tell them that she felt nothing but relief that they didn’t need to harm the mother badger and her cubs?

Yellowfang froze as a leaf drifted
down right in front of her nose, but the lizard she was stalking through the marsh grass paid no attention.
Leaves are falling all the time now,
Yellowfang thought. Prey was becoming scarce as the foliage grew sparser, and her belly growled with hunger. The air was chilly with the promise of leaf-bare.

Setting her paws down with all the care she could muster, Yellowfang crept up on the lizard where it had halted in a clump of thicker grass. But as she was waggling her haunches in preparation to pounce, another cat flashed past her in a blur of movement. Raggedpelt’s paws were outstretched, but he landed a mouse-length short. The lizard vanished, flickering away into the grass.

Yellowfang sat up. “Hey!” she yowled. “That was
my
prey.”

“You were too far away for a good pounce,” Raggedpelt retorted, turning to glare at her from wide amber eyes.

“Huh! And you weren’t, I suppose.” Yellowfang flexed her claws and felt her shoulder fur beginning to bristle. “So how come
neither
of us has any prey for the Clan?”

Raggedpelt took a breath to go on arguing, then let it out in a sigh. His tail drooped. “You’re right,” he admitted, ducking his head. “I’m sorry. That was mouse-brained.”

Yellowfang let out a sound that was half purr, half growl. “It’s okay, stupid furball,” she mewed, giving his cheek a lick.

Raggedpelt stepped back, but only a little; the anger in his eyes had given way to warmth. “Since we’re both after the same thing, why don’t we hunt together?” he suggested.

Yellowfang blinked, holding his gaze. It felt so good to be friends with Raggedpelt again, patrolling and hunting together since he had recovered from the wounds the badger had given him. “Why not?” she agreed.

Brushing through the thorn tunnel, Yellowfang was satisfied with the result of the hunt. She was carrying a squirrel; it was thin, but it was the best piece of prey she’d spotted all day.
And I almost didn’t catch it. One more heartbeat, and it would have escaped up that tree
.

Raggedpelt had caught another lizard to make up for the one he had lost. Together the two cats bounded across the clearing and dropped their prey on the fresh-kill pile.

“That went well,” Raggedpelt declared. “We should hunt together more often. We make a strong team.”

Yellowfang nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Remember the other day, when you chased that rabbit right into my claws? That was—” He broke off as Foxpaw came hurtling across the clearing and skidded to a halt in front of the fresh-kill pile.

“Wow, a squirrel!” she exclaimed, her eyes stretching wide. “Congratulations, Raggedpelt.”

“It’s Yellowfang’s squirrel,” the tabby tom responded. “It was a great catch, too.”

Foxpaw’s enthusiastic expression faded abruptly; Yellowfang guessed that the squirrel suddenly wasn’t as impressive. With a disdainful curl of her lip the apprentice turned her back. Yellowfang rolled her eyes.
Foxpaw is always in a huff about something
.

“Yellowfang!”

At the sound of Littlebird’s voice, Yellowfang turned to see the elder standing at the entrance to her den, a few tail-lengths away.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Oh, Yellowfang …” the elder began. “There’s a tick at the base of my tail, and I can’t reach it. I wonder if you could—”

“Aren’t there any apprentices to deal with your ticks?” Yellowfang interrupted, staring pointedly at Foxpaw.

“But I’m asking
you,
Yellowfang,” the elder insisted.

Yellowfang’s pelt burned at the smug look on Foxpaw’s face. She was conscious of the apprentice’s gaze following her as she plodded over to the elders’ den. Inside, the den was warm and stuffy. Lizardfang wasn’t there, so there was plenty of room for Littlebird to stretch out and show Yellowfang where the tick was.

Yellowfang was still cross that Littlebird had ordered her around in front of Foxpaw. She didn’t want to go to Sagewhisker for mouse bile, so she dealt with the tick by gripping it in her teeth and tugging. It came out, and she ground it into the bracken underpaw.

“That’s better,” Littlebird sighed, craning her neck to give her fur a lick. After a heartbeat she added casually, “I see you and Raggedpelt are getting along much better since he was attacked by the badger.”

“Yeah … I guess,” she muttered.

“I’ve seen the pair of you fall out before now,” the elder went on, sounding concerned.

Yellowfang just gave a noncommittal grunt, not meeting Littlebird’s gaze.

“You know, Yellowfang,” Littlebird meowed, “I’m sure you have a long future ahead of you. There’s no need to rush into pairing up with a mate.”

Embarrassment prickled Yellowfang’s paws. “I’m not in a rush to do anything!” she protested.

Littlebird nodded. “That’s good.”

“I should go,” Yellowfang muttered, eager to get out of the elders’ den. “Patrols … hunting …”

“Just remember what I’ve said,” Littlebird called after her as she scrambled into the open.

More cats had gathered around the fresh-kill pile. Russetpaw and Boulder, in a patrol with their mentors, appeared laden with prey and dropped it on the pile. Poolcloud and Brightflower were sharing a pigeon, while Nutwhisker was demonstrating a battle move to Wolfpaw and Rowanberry. Foxpaw was still there, Yellowfang noticed, leaning close to Raggedpelt as he devoured a starling. Yellowfang stalked up to them in time to hear what the apprentice was saying.

“Why don’t we go hunting together, Raggedpelt?”

“You can’t go out on your own patrols!” Yellowfang informed her icily, before Raggedpelt could say anything. “You’re an apprentice!”

“Not for much longer,” Foxpaw mewed with a pert flick of her tail. “I passed my final assessment this morning!”

“Great,” Yellowfang meowed, unable to summon up much enthusiasm.
She’ll be twice as obnoxious once she’s made a warrior!

“Wolfpaw was a good apprentice.” Brightflower dipped her head to Poolcloud. “I enjoyed training him. And Blizzardwing told me how quickly Foxpaw picks things up.”

“I couldn’t be more proud,” Poolcloud purred, turning her head to give her shoulder a couple of quick licks. “I know that Foxpaw and Wolfpaw will impress the whole of ShadowClan when they become warriors.”

“I’m sure they will,” Hollyflower added, padding up in time to hear the last few words.

Yellowfang jumped as Nutwhisker’s whiskers tickled her ear and he muttered, “Foxpaw is bound to be leading patrols before she even goes to her first Gathering as a warrior.”

Yellowfang nodded glumly.
I don’t want to patrol with her,
she thought.
But I suppose I’ll have to put up with it. She’d better not try ordering me around, though!

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!”

Foxpaw gave an excited bounce. “It’s our warrior ceremony!”

Cats emerged from their dens and gathered around the Clanrock in a ragged circle. Yellowfang spotted Russetpaw and Boulder near the front, their eyes gleaming with anticipation, and realized that this was the first warrior ceremony they had seen. Featherstorm and Mousewing, their mentors, sat with them, joined after a moment by Archeye, Blizzardwing, and Deerleap. Brackenfoot bounded over to Brightflower, and the two cats sat down with Nutwhisker and Rowanberry.