Warriors Super Edition: Yellowfang’s Secret (46 page)

Littlebird sighed. “My dreams are so troubled lately, I don’t want to close my eyes.”

Yellowfang pressed her muzzle into the old cat’s shoulder. “Then I will ask StarClan to send you peaceful dreams.”
Is Littlebird dreaming of blood and fire? Oh, StarClan, if you have any omens to share, send them to me! Don’t make my Clanmates frightened to sleep!

Yellowfang was clearing a pile of dead leaves from the entrance to her den when she heard Raggedstar yowling a summons to the Clan, and looked up to see him standing on the Clanrock, his fur ruffled by the cold wind. Almost two moons had passed since Cedarstar’s death, and Raggedstar had won approval from his Clanmates by allowing them to continue as they had always done, patrolling and training and guarding their borders with the protectiveness of a mother over her kits.

Calling to Runningpaw, who was busy counting juniper berries inside the den, Yellowfang headed into the clearing. Brightflower and Brackenfoot emerged from the warriors’ den, closely followed by Amberleaf, Blizzardwing, and Frogtail. Russetfur and Boulder hurried in together through the brambles, giving Yellowfang a friendly nod as they sat down close to her. The other apprentices and their mentors bounded across from the fresh-kill pile. The elders appeared at the entrance to their den.

Raggedstar gazed down at them. “I am proud of my Clan,” he began. “You are all I could have hoped for as a leader. With warriors like these, I could fight any battle! And there will be a new warrior today. Brokenpaw, step forward.”

A gasp rose from the Clan as Brokenpaw bounded forward to stand at the base of the Clanrock. Yellowfang shared her Clanmates’ astonishment.
He’s only been an apprentice for five moons!

“Raggedstar,” Nightpelt meowed, stepping forward, “Brokenpaw hasn’t completed his final assessments yet.”

Brokenpaw shot a furious look at his mentor, while Raggedstar flicked his tail dismissively. “I know a cat who is ready to be a warrior when I see one,” he declared. Leaping down from the Clanrock, he faced Brokenpaw. “I, Raggedstar,” he continued, “call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn. Brokenpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code, and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your own life?”

Brokenpaw puffed out his chest importantly as he replied, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan,” his father went on, “I give you your warrior name. Brokenpaw, from this moment you will be known as Brokentail—but let no cat see this as a sign of weakness. You are one of the strongest cats I have ever known, and I look forward to fighting alongside you! StarClan honors your courage and your fighting skills, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.” He rested his muzzle on Brokentail’s head, and Brokentail licked his shoulder.

“Brokentail! Brokentail!” ShadowClan acclaimed the new warrior, but Yellowfang could see that some of the cats were less than happy. Though the warriors yowled his name with approval, his fellow apprentices were staring at one another with a mixture of dismay and anger. Yellowfang was close enough to hear Deerpaw mutter, “This is so unfair! Just because his father is Clan leader!”

“This would never have happened in my day,” Archeye commented from where he sat in front of the elders’ den. “What’s next? Kit warriors?”

Brokentail stood in the center of the clearing, lapping up his Clan’s yowls of welcome. As Yellowfang looked at him more closely, a thrill of horror passed through her. His legs were stained with blood, the brown fur dark and wet. The air stirred beside her and a voice whispered, “Beware the cat with blood on his paws....”

Yellowfang whirled around, looking for Molepelt, but she saw only her Clanmates, still watching the new warrior. Pushing her way through the crowd, she reached Brokentail’s side. “Are you okay?” she whispered. “Is that blood on your fur?”

Brokentail looked surprised. “No, it’s water. I got wet when I was chasing a lizard in the marshes, that’s all.”

Relief surged through Yellowfang. Now that she was close enough to smell his fur, she realized that it was just peaty water turning his legs dark.

Everything’s fine. And stay away from me, Molepelt, with your stupid prophecies!

She stepped back as other cats padded up to congratulate her son.

“You’re welcome on my patrols anytime,” Blackfoot meowed.

“And mine,” Nutwhisker added. “And can you show me that tricky claw-and-leap battle move? I saw you can do it, but I haven’t got it quite right.”

“Sure.” Brokentail dipped his head, his eyes gleaming with pleasure.

Boulder loped up and gave him a friendly cuff on the shoulder. “I’m looking forward to chasing foxes with you,” he told Brokentail.

The new warrior gave Boulder a return cuff that sent him staggering. “We’ll shred them,” he agreed.

Then Foxheart shouldered her way through the crowd. “Congratulations, Brokentail,” she meowed graciously. “ShadowClan needs keen young warriors like you.”

Does she think she’s Clan leader already?
Yellowfang wondered, bristling at the deputy’s superior tones.

She realized that Raggedstar was standing beside her. “My son will go far,” he murmured in her ear. “He is everything I ever hoped for.” He looked at Yellowfang with a challenge in his eyes, as if he was daring her to say that Brokentail was her son too.

I won’t play that game
.
I know I have given up any claim to him that I once had
.

Politely Yellowfang dipped her head to the cat who had once meant everything to her. “I’m sure he has a bright future in the Clan,” she meowed.

Yellowfang shivered beneath her thick pelt
. Leaf-bare had descended on the forest and the clearing was covered in snow. Her paws sank deeply into it; her pads felt as if they were about to fall off, they were so cold. Flicking a bit of leaf from behind her ear, Yellowfang knew that she needed to give herself a good grooming.
But there never seems to be time....

Now she headed for Raggedstar’s den, ducking beneath the oak roots out of the worst of the snow. To her dismay she saw that Foxheart was there, her head bent close to the leader’s as they talked together.

It was Foxheart who noticed Yellowfang first. “What do you want?”

Yellowfang refused to let the Clan deputy’s rudeness get to her. “I need to speak to Raggedstar.”

“Can’t you see he’s busy?” Foxheart snapped. “Come back later.”

Yellowfang merely waited, her gaze fixed on Raggedstar.

“No, you can speak now.” The Clan leader’s voice had an impatient edge. “What is it?”

“I don’t think Nightpelt can continue with his warrior duties,” Yellowfang told him. “His cough is getting much worse, and he’s too tired and weak for patrols.”

Foxheart’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you can’t cure him? Aren’t you supposed to be the medicine cat?”

“I’ve tried everything,” Yellowfang hissed through gritted teeth. “Some cats have coughs that don’t go away. I think it has something to do with his breathing. If he doesn’t give up his duties, he’ll just get sicker and sicker.”

“We need all our warriors!” Foxheart protested.

Raggedstar stretched out his tail and laid it on Foxheart’s shoulder. “Send Nightpelt to me,” he ordered Yellowfang. “If it’s what he wants, then I won’t force him to continue with warrior duties. But it’s his decision, Yellowfang!”

Returning to her den, Yellowfang found Boulder waiting for her. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

Boulder stretched out one forepaw. “I’ve got a thorn in it,” he announced cheerfully. “I tried to get it out myself, but I can’t shift it.”

“Well, that’s what your medicine cat is for,” Yellowfang responded. “Let’s have a look.”

The thorn had been pushed a long way into Boulder’s pad, and it took a lot of licking before Yellowfang could catch it in her teeth.

“I was on patrol with Brokentail,” Boulder meowed as she worked. “Great StarClan, he’s a good warrior! We should all try to be like him.”

Yellowfang, vigorously licking, tried not to react to this praise of her son.

“I was just a bit too keen on chasing a blackbird,” Boulder went on. “To tell you the truth, I think I was trying to impress Brokentail. The bird went into a thornbush, and I was fool enough to go after it.”

“Did you catch it?” Yellowfang meowed.

“Yes—ow!” Boulder let out a yelp as the thorn came free.

“Then you weren’t a fool. Give your paw a good lick,” Yellowfang instructed him, “and come back if the paw swells or if it continues to hurt.”

“Thanks, Yellowfang.” Boulder ran his tongue over his pad a few times, then rose to his paws. “I’d better get back on patrol.” He dashed off.

Runningpaw, who had been tidying the herb stores at the back of the den, turned to look at his mentor. “I wouldn’t want to live in a Clan full of Brokentails,” he remarked. “He’s too … fierce!” He went back to his herbs, then stopped, looking thoughtful, with a borage leaf in one paw. “I wonder who Brokentail’s mother is. Do you have any ideas, Yellowfang? Was she a kittypet, like some cats say? Or was it Foxheart all along?”

“I don’t have time for idle gossip,” Yellowfang snorted. “Why are you standing there like an uneaten bit of fresh-kill, instead of sorting the comfrey from the foxgloves?”

Runningpaw sniffed as he gave her an injured look, but yowls from the clearing outside interrupted any reply he was about to make. Looking out between the boulders, Yellowfang saw cats bursting through the thorns, and recognized Lizardstripe’s border patrol. A single glance told her that some of the cats had been badly scratched.

“Bring cobweb and marigold,” she ordered Runningpaw, then bounded to meet the wounded cats in the center of the clearing.

Raggedstar and Foxheart emerged from the leader’s den and raced to join the others. “What happened?” Raggedstar demanded.

“Rats attacked us near the Carrionplace,” Lizardstripe panted. Her fur was bristling and blood dripped from a scratch on her belly.

“And we weren’t even hunting them!” Wolfstep added indignantly.

While Lizardstripe described in more detail what had happened, Yellowfang and Runningpaw started to treat the wounds. Wolfstep had a torn ear, but it had already stopped bleeding; Yellowfang licked it clean, then gave him a marigold leaf to rub on it.

“Look at this bite,” Runningpaw mewed, beckoning Yellowfang over to Tangleburr. “I think it might get infected.”

Yellowfang nodded as she examined the bite on Tangleburr’s shoulder. “That’s always a risk with rat bites. Tangleburr, wait for me in my den, and I’ll find you some burdock root.”

“Thanks, Yellowfang.” The young she-cat limped off.

Yellowfang padded over to Lizardstripe. “I need to see that scratch on your belly,” she told her.

Lizardstripe flicked her tail. “Not now. Can’t you see I’m talking to Raggedstar?”

Suit yourself,
Yellowfang thought.
Bleed all over the camp. See if I care
.

While she was checking Brackenfoot and Fernshade, more cats appeared at the entrance to the camp. Yellowfang looked up to see Brokentail and his hunting patrol, laden with prey.

Brokentail, carrying a huge pigeon, padded up to the group in the middle of the clearing. “What’s going on?” he asked, dropping the dead bird.