Warriors Super Edition: Yellowfang’s Secret (28 page)

The other cats left, and Sagewhisker crouched down beside Yellowfang. “It’s worse this time, isn’t it?” she prompted.

Yellowfang looked up at her and nodded.

Sagewhisker’s eyes narrowed as if she was thinking. “This time you’re not just feeling the pain of other cats,” she mewed as she plastered cobweb over Yellowfang’s wounds. She ran her paw lightly over the scratches on Yellowfang’s shoulder. “You could easily have defended yourself from this kind of injury, but you’ve been badly hurt because you couldn’t bring yourself to fight. You know too much about pain to inflict it on other cats. And that makes it impossible for you to be a warrior.” She paused, and Yellowfang was startled by the sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s time to face your destiny,” Sagewhisker announced. “You have to be a medicine cat.”

The next half-moon dragged by, slow
as a snail. Yellowfang remained in Sagewhisker’s den, gradually recovering from the battle with WindClan. Sometimes she thought her wounds would never heal. She longed to be out in the forest, hunting for her Clan, but she felt shaky every time she rose to her paws. And she couldn’t forget what Sagewhisker had said to her when she came back from the fight.

You have to be a medicine cat....

She was stretching her back one morning, longing for her strength to return, when Sagewhisker slipped into the den with a worried look on her face.

“What’s the matter?” Yellowfang asked.

Sagewhisker twitched her ears. “It’s Nettlespot. Her milk is drying up again. Poolcloud is hunting for her, but there’s so little prey in this weather, and when Poolcloud does catch something, Nettlespot doesn’t seem to want it.”

“That’s not good,” Yellowfang commented. “She’ll get weaker if she won’t eat.”

Sagewhisker nodded. “Find me something to build up her appetite, will you?”

Yellowfang headed for the stores. “Sorrel should be good for that,” she murmured, half to herself, remembering how Sagewhisker had once used it for Lizardfang when the elder refused to eat. She went to uncover the hole where the herb was kept, reached down, and brought up a few shriveled leaves, which she held out to Sagewhisker.

“Thanks,” the medicine cat meowed. Giving Yellowfang’s wounds a sniff, she added, “Those are almost healed. You’ll be well enough to attend Russetpaw’s and Boulder’s warrior ceremony.”

“They’re being made warriors?” Yellowfang exclaimed. “Have they passed their final assessment?”

Sagewhisker nodded. “Yesterday.”

“So much has happened since I’ve been stuck in here!” Yellowfang sighed.

Sagewhisker took the herbs from her and shot her a sharp glance. “It’s only the medicine den, not the far side of the moon,” she pointed out dryly. “There are worse places to be, and often it’s the best place to know what’s happening in every corner of the camp.”

Before Yellowfang could respond, Raggedpelt ducked in between the boulders. Yellowfang let out a pleased purr at the sight of him. He had visited her every day since the battle, always asking Sagewhisker when she could return to warrior duties.

“She can try her legs outside the camp today,” the medicine cat announced, forestalling the inevitable question before leaving the den with the sorrel leaves for Nettlespot.

Raggedpelt’s eyes gleamed. “Great! Yellowfang, why don’t we walk to the big oak tree?”

Cedarstar’s voice outside interrupted them. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!”

“It must be time for Russetpaw’s and Boulder’s warrior ceremony,” Yellowfang meowed.

Raggedpelt narrowed his eyes, but he said nothing. The rest of the Clan was already gathering in the clearing. Boulder and Russetpaw stood at the front, near the base of the Clanrock. Their heads were raised, although they both looked nervous. Their mentors, Featherstorm and Mousewing, sat side by side close by.

Cedarstar signaled with his tail for silence. “These two cats,” he began, “came to us from the Twolegplace. At first many of us were afraid that they would not fit into Clan life. I’m pleased to say that we were wrong. Featherstorm, has Russetpaw learned the ways of the Clan and proven herself worthy of becoming a warrior?”

Featherstorm dipped her head. “She has.”

“And Mousewing, can you say the same of Boulder?”

“He is a true ShadowClan cat,” Mousewing responded.

Both apprentices seemed to swell with pride. Cedarstar leaped down from the Clanrock to stand in front of them. “I, Cedarstar, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon these apprentices,” the Clan leader began. “They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn. Russetpaw, Boulder, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your own life?”

“I do,” Boulder meowed; his voice carried strongly to the rest of the Clan.

“I do,” Russetpaw vowed more quietly.

“Then by the powers of StarClan,” Cedarstar continued, “I give you your warrior names. Russetpaw, from this moment you will be known as Russetfur. StarClan honors your loyalty and courage, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

He laid his muzzle on the top of Russetfur’s head, and Russetfur bent to lick his shoulder.

Then Cedarstar turned to Boulder. “I know that you don’t wish to change your name,” he mewed. “StarClan will see you are a warrior by what you do, rather than what you are called. They honor your bravery and determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

Loud yowls of congratulation burst from the Clan. The two newcomers, regarded with such suspicion to begin with, had clearly earned their popularity among their Clanmates.

“Russetfur! Boulder! Russetfur! Boulder!”

But Raggedpelt didn’t join in. He stood watching with his jaws firmly closed and a look of grim disapproval in his eyes. Yellowfang tried to yowl twice as loud to make up for his silence, knowing that there was no point in challenging him about it.

“How about that walk?” Raggedpelt meowed when the ceremony was over and the cats split up to go about their duties. “Maybe we can pick up some prey on the way.”

“Fine,” Yellowfang replied, falling into step beside him. “Though I’m not sure I’ll make it as far as the big oak.”

Her wounds still felt sore, and her legs were weak from lack of exercise, but it was good to take in long breaths of cold, fresh air, and to see something other than the walls of the medicine cat’s den.

“We must get you back into battle training,” Raggedpelt decided as they padded through the forest. “Then the next time WindClan attacks, you’ll be better prepared. I’ve been thinking about some new fighting moves …”

Yellowfang listened with a sinking feeling in her belly while he described his ideas to improve her skills.

“Well? What do you think?” Raggedpelt prompted when he had finished.

“I—I’m not fully healed yet.” Yellowfang sought desperately for excuses. “Maybe in another quarter moon …”

Raggedpelt halted, his whiskers twitching. “Warriors have to be strong at all times!” he reminded. “You only feel weak because you’ve been sitting in a nest for too long.”

Yellowfang bowed her head. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

By the time she and Raggedpelt returned to camp, Yellowfang was worn out. Heading for the medicine cat’s den, she met Sagewhisker on her way out.

“It’s the night of the half-moon,” Sagewhisker meowed. “I’m going to the Moonstone to meet the other medicine cats.”

“I hope all goes well,” Yellowfang told her. She thought about the way ThunderClan’s medicine cat had been asking questions about ShadowClan at the last Gathering, and wondered if Featherwhisker would quiz Sagewhisker as well.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Sagewhisker replied. “Yellowfang, I want you to stay in my den for one more night. You can go back to the warriors’ den tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Yellowfang agreed.

Raggedpelt touched his nose to her shoulder. “Let’s eat first,” he suggested.

After she had shared a vole with him, Yellowfang retreated to her nest in Sagewhisker’s den. Her head felt fuzzy with tiredness, and as soon as she curled up in the moss she sank deeply into sleep. She woke in darkness to the sound of a startled meow and a sharp blow in her ribs as a cat tripped over her.

“Sorry, Yellowfang. I forgot you were there.”

It was Poolcloud; Yellowfang made out her pale pelt in the light of the half-moon and smelled fear on her fur.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“It’s Cloudkit,” Poolcloud replied anxiously. “He keeps vomiting; he must have eaten something bad when Nettlespot wasn’t watching. I came to look for some herbs that will help him.”

The wrong herb might kill the poor little scrap,
Yellowfang thought, heaving herself out of her nest. “I’ll see if I can find you something,” she mewed.

Not yarrow,
she decided as she padded over to the herb stores.
That will make him sicker. What we need is willow
.

When she poked a paw down the hole where the willow leaves were kept, she found that only a tiny fragment was left. “There’s not much here,” she told Poolcloud. “But it’s probably enough for a tiny kit like Cloudkit.”

Poolcloud nodded, flustered. “Whatever you think is best, Yellowfang.”

Yellowfang led the way out of the den with the scrap of leaf in her jaws. A sour smell of vomit hit her in the throat as she entered the nursery. In the dim light she made out Nettlespot crouched over Cloudkit, who was stretched out in the moss, his fur dark and clumped with sweat. As Yellowfang approached his belly heaved and he started retching, but nothing came out of his parted jaws.

“There’s nothing left inside him,” Poolcloud murmured. “Poor little mite!”

Nettlespot looked up as the two she-cats entered. “Please, you have to fetch Sagewhisker!” she begged. “I lost his sister, and I can’t bear to lose this one as well.”

“Sagewhisker has gone to the Moonstone. I’ve brought something to treat him with,” Yellowfang meowed, setting the willow leaf down in front of Cloudkit.

“What are you doing?” Nettlespot reached out and blocked Yellowfang with one paw. “You’re not a medicine cat. Leave him alone! You might make him worse!”

“It’s okay, Nettlespot,” Poolcloud mewed gently, resting her tail-tip on the distraught queen’s shoulder. “Yellowfang knows which herb to use, and Sagewhisker isn’t here, so we don’t have a choice.”

Nettlespot hesitated for a moment and then drew back, letting Yellowfang get close to her kit. She watched with wide, worried eyes as Yellowfang chewed up the willow and carefully pushed the pulp into Cloudkit’s mouth.

Cloudkit let out a pitiful mewling sound. “Yuck!”

“It’s okay,” Yellowfang comforted him, massaging his throat with one paw until she was sure he had swallowed the leaf. “It tastes nasty but it will make you feel better soon. Poolcloud, will you get me some moss soaked in water?”

The gray-and-white she-cat gave a swift nod and vanished from the den. She was back more quickly than Yellowfang could have hoped, carrying a dripping bunch of moss in her jaws. She brought it to Cloudkit, who sucked in the water eagerly. Yellowfang thought that he was already looking a little livelier. She tore off part of the wet moss and used it to clean up his face and ears. Not sure what else to do, she bent down toward the kit, pressing one of her ears against his belly; she could hear a churning sound, almost like water falling into a pool.