Warriors Super Edition: Yellowfang’s Secret (3 page)

“Do you promise to let our warriors cross your territory whenever they want?” Rowankit growled.

“We promise.” Silverflame, the mother of Yellowkit’s mother, Brightflower, flattened herself to the ground and blinked fearfully up at the kits.

Lizardfang cringed away from the three kits, shuffling his skinny brown limbs. “ShadowClan is much stronger than us.”

“Yes!” Yellowkit bounced up in the air. “ShadowClan is the best!” In her excitement she leaped on top of Nutkit, rolling over and over with him in a knot of gray and brown fur.

I’m going to be the best warrior in the best Clan in the forest!
she thought with glee.

She broke away from Nutkit and scrambled to her paws. “You be a WindClan warrior now,” she urged. “I know some awesome battle moves!”

“Battle moves?” a scornful voice broke in. “You? You’re only a kit!”

Yellowkit spun around to see Raggedkit and his littermate, Scorchkit, standing a couple of tail-lengths away.

“And what are you?” she demanded, facing up to the big dark tabby tom. “You and Scorchkit were still kits, last time I looked.”

“But we’ll be apprentices soon,” Raggedkit retorted. “It’ll be moons and moons before you start training.”

“Yeah.” Scorchkit licked one ginger paw and drew it over his ear. “We’ll be
warriors
by then.”

“In your dreams!” Rowankit bounded up to stand next to Yellowkit, while Nutkit flanked her on her other side. “There are
rabbits
who’d make better warriors than you two.”

Scorchkit crouched down, his muscles tensed to leap at them, but Raggedkit blocked him with his tail. “They’re not worth it,” he mewed loftily. “Come on, runts, watch us and we’ll show you some
real
battle moves.”

“You’re not our mentors!” Nutkit snapped. “All you know how to do is mess up our game.”

“Your game!” Raggedkit rolled his eyes. “Like you wouldn’t go squealing into the nursery if WindClan really attacked our camp.”

“Would not!” Rowankit exclaimed.

Raggedkit and Scorchkit ignored her, turning their backs on the younger kits. “You attack me first,” Scorchkit ordered. Raggedkit dashed past his littermate, aiming a blow at Scorchkit’s ear. Scorchkit swung away and pounced on Raggedkit’s tail. Raggedkit rolled over onto his back, all four paws ready to defend himself.

Annoyed as she was, Yellowkit couldn’t help admiring the older toms. Her paws itched to practice their battle moves, but she knew that she and her littermates would only get sneered at if they tried.

“Come on!” Nutkit nudged her. “Let’s go and see if there are any mice in the brambles.”

“You won’t catch any, even if there are,” Raggedkit meowed, rising to his paws and shaking debris from his fur.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Nutkit’s fur bristled and he bared tiny, needle-sharp teeth. “Kittypet!”

For a moment all five kittens froze. Yellowkit could feel her heart pounding. Like her littermates, she had heard the elders gossiping, wondering who had fathered Raggedkit and Scorchkit, asking one another if it could be true that Featherstorm’s mate had been a kittypet. The young she-cat had often strayed into Twolegplace, and she’d never been obviously close to any of the toms in the Clan. But Yellowkit knew that it was something you should never, never say out loud.

Raggedkit took a pace closer to Nutkit, stiff-legged with fury. “
What
did you call me?” he snarled, his voice dangerously quiet.

Nutkit’s eyes were wide and scared, but he didn’t back down. “Kittypet!” he repeated.

A low growl came from Raggedkit’s throat. Scorchkit’s gaze darkened and he flexed his claws. Neither of them looked one bit like a soft, fluffy kittypet. Yellowkit braced herself to defend her littermate.

“Nutkit!”

Yellowkit turned at the sound of her mother’s voice. Brightflower was standing beside the thornbush that shielded the nursery hollow. Her orange tabby tail was twitching in annoyance.

“Nutkit, if you can’t play sensibly, then you’d better come back here. You too, Yellowkit and Rowankit. I won’t have you fighting.”

“Not fair,” Nutkit muttered as all three littermates began trailing toward the nursery. He scuffed his paws through the pine needles on the ground. “They started it.”

“They’re just stupid kittypets,” Rowankit whispered.

Yellowkit couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder as she reached the thornbush. Raggedkit and Scorchkit stood in the middle of the clearing, glaring after them. The force of Raggedkit’s anger scared her and fascinated her at the same time. Behind it she could sense something else: a black space that echoed with fearful questioning. She thought of her own father, Brackenfoot, who told stories of patrols and hunting and Gatherings at Fourtrees, who let his kits scramble all over him and pretended to be a fox so they could attack him. Yellowkit loved him and wanted to be like him.

What must it be like, not to know who your father is? Especially if every cat thinks he was a kittypet?

Then Yellowkit realized that Raggedkit’s gaze had locked with hers. With a squeak of alarm she ducked underneath the branches and tumbled down into the nursery after her littermates.

“I’m bored,” Nutkit complained. “Let’s go
play in the warriors’ den.”

Yellowkit blinked at him. “Are you mouse-brained? The warriors will rip our pelts off.”

Three sunrises had passed since the quarrel with Raggedkit and Scorchkit. Yellowkit still felt uneasy around them, and tried to avoid them around the camp.

“You’re a scaredy-mouse!” Nutkit taunted her. “Go on—peek under the bush. I dare you!”

I can’t back down now,
Yellowkit thought, bracing herself as she gazed across the clearing to the thick bramble bush where the warriors slept. Like all the ShadowClan dens, theirs was a shallow dip in the ground, sheltered by tightly woven thorns and enclosed by the circle of brambles. The dens surrounded a clearing beneath pine trees, with the entrance to the camp at one end and a large lichen-covered rock, known as the Clanrock, at the other.

Rowankit nudged Yellowkit. “Don’t do it! Brightflower’s got her eye on us. Look over there.” She angled her ears to where Brightflower and Brackenfoot were sharing a vole beside the fresh-kill pile. In between mouthfuls, Brightflower was turning her head to check up on her kits.

A wave of affection for her mother washed over Yellowkit.
I’m glad I look like her,
she thought. She had seen her own reflection in a puddle once, and almost thought she was gazing at a tiny copy of Brightflower. Though her pelt was gray, not orange tabby like her mother’s, she had the same broad, flat face, snub nose, and wide-set amber eyes.

I want to be just like her,
and
just like my father,
Yellowkit thought.
A warrior and a queen. I’ll have lots of kits, and I’ll bring them up to be great warriors for our Clan
.

“I know a game!” she announced. “You be my kits, and I’ll teach you how to catch frogs.”

“Okay!” Rowankit sat in front of Yellowkit, and wrapped her tail neatly around her paws.

Nutkit rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he came to sit beside Rowankit.

Yellowkit let out a hiss. “I never saw such untidy kits,” she scolded. “Nutkit, have you been rolling around in the brambles? And Rowankit, just
look
at your chest fur. Give it a good lick
right now
!”

Rowankit let out a tiny
mrrow
of amusement as she started to lick her chest fur. Nutkit wriggled as Yellowkit used her claws to pick imaginary thorns out of his pelt.

“This is a dumb game,” he muttered. “And
your
pelt’s not so great, either.”

Yellowkit gave him a light swat around the ear. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that!”

She stood back, checking her littermates’ fur carefully, then nodded. “Much better. Now, kits, listen up. We’re going to learn how to catch a frog. Nutkit, pay attention!” She flicked her tail over her brother’s ear as he watched the jerky flight of a white butterfly. “The most important thing to remember about frogs is that they jump.”

“Can I be the frog? Can I?” Rowankit asked, bouncing up and down in excitement. “I can jump really high!”

Yellowkit let out a sigh of exasperation. “No! You’ve got to
listen
.”

Brightflower was padding across the clearing toward them. Her eyes were warm and amused. “That looks like a good game,” she meowed. “Yellowkit, you’ll make a great queen one day.”

“And a warrior!” Yellowkit insisted.

“Of course,” Brightflower purred. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is! I’ll be the best—” Yellowkit broke off as she spotted Cedarstar emerging from his den beneath the oak tree.

The Clan leader bounded across the clearing and leaped up onto the Clanrock. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!” he yowled.

Yellowkit turned to her mother. “What’s happening?”

“Wait and see,” Brightflower replied. “Come sit with me and your father.”

Sweeping her tail around all three kits, Brightflower led them across the clearing to where Brackenfoot sat beside the fresh-kill pile. Meanwhile, more of the Clan cats were gathering. Sagewhisker, the medicine cat, slid out from her den in the shadow of the Clanrock and sat down facing her leader. Poolcloud, her belly heavy with kits, hauled herself out of the nursery and padded slowly over to the entrance of the warriors’ den, where her mate, Toadskip, had just appeared. Toadskip’s apprentice, Ashpaw, bounded up to join them. The other two apprentices, Frogpaw and Newtpaw, broke off their play fight, shook their pelts, and sat down to listen. Crowtail, Archeye, and Hollyflower pushed their way out of the warriors’ den.

Finally Raggedkit and Scorchkit appeared from the nursery, followed by their mother, Featherstorm. Their fur was gleaming and they paced proudly across the camp to stand at the front of the crowd of cats.

Yellowkit suddenly realized what was going on. “They’re being made apprentices!”

“Shh!” Brightflower responded. “Nutkit, stop scratching your ear.”

“I wish it was
our
turn,” Nutkit whispered to Yellowkit. “We’ve got to wait
forever
.”

Yellowkit nodded. “Four whole moons.”
Raggedkit and Scorchkit look so grown-up,
she thought.
I can’t believe I’ll ever be an apprentice
.

Cedarstar looked down at the two older kits. “Cats of ShadowClan,” he began. “Today we are gathered for—”

Yellowkit squirmed, trying to get comfortable. Her hind paw was tingling as if she’d stepped on a thorn. She twisted around, lifting her pad in an attempt to see it.

Cedarstar broke off, looking down at her.

“Yellowkit!” Brightflower hissed. “Stop wriggling!”

“I’ve got a thorn in my paw!” Yellowkit wailed.

“Keep still, then. Let me look.” Brightflower peered at Yellowkit’s paw, then gave it a brief sniff. “There’s nothing there,” she snapped. “Stop fussing and listen to Cedarstar.”

Yellowkit realized that all of her Clanmates were staring at her. She wished that she could sink into the earth floor of the camp and disappear. “Sorry,” she muttered, hanging her head. Her paw was still painful, but she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore it.