Warriors Super Edition: Yellowfang’s Secret (50 page)

Throughout the night Yellowfang tried every herb, every trace of knowledge she possessed, to help Cloudpelt, but as the sun slid into the den through the branches overhead, the white warrior’s faint breathing grew more ragged, then sank into silence. His tail-tip twitched once, and then was still.

He has gone to hunt with StarClan
. Yellowfang bent over the deputy’s body, grief-stricken and scared deep inside.
Things are going terribly wrong
.

As she crouched over Cloudpelt’s body, she heard a rustling from Runningnose’s nest. His voice came from behind her, blurred with sleep. “How is Cloudpelt?”

“He’s dead,” Yellowfang choked out.

“No!” Runningnose got up and came to stand beside her, scraps of moss still clinging to his pelt. “Do you want me to break the news to Raggedstar?”

Yellowfang shook her head. “No. Thank you, but I have to do that myself.” She stumbled into the clearing and padded over to Raggedstar’s den. Creeping under the oak roots, she saw the Clan leader curled in his nest. “Wake up!” she meowed.

Raggedstar lifted his head, then scrambled up when he saw Yellowfang. “What news?”

“The worst,” Yellowfang admitted. “Cloudpelt walks with StarClan now.”

Raggedstar bowed his head. “He died the death of the noblest warrior.”

“But it was a battle that should never have been fought!” Yellowfang flashed back at him.

“Do not say that!” Raggedstar roared. “You dishonor Cloudpelt’s memory if that’s what you truly believe!”

“I would never do that,” Yellowfang assured him, forcing herself to meet her leader’s gaze steadily. “But I think Brokentail looked for this battle. Cloudpelt died unnecessarily.”

Raggedstar narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you saying?”

Yellowfang flinched. “I don’t think you should make Brokentail deputy in his place.”

“I will not listen to this!” Raggedstar snarled. His amber gaze, alight with anger, rested on her like a flame. “You are my medicine cat, Yellowfang, and your loyalty should only be to me and my warriors. Never question me again!”

The moon was rising above the trees. In the clearing, the ShadowClan cats kept vigil for Cloudpelt. Yellowfang sat near his head. She remembered the eager apprentice he had been, looking forward to having a mate and kits.

I’m so sorry that will never happen. But you were a fine deputy for your Clan, and you died with a warrior’s courage
.

Movement alerted Yellowfang, and she looked up to see Raggedstar leaping up onto the Clanrock.

“Cats of ShadowClan!” he began. “We have lost Cloudpelt, and we grieve for him. But the life of the Clan must continue. It is time to appoint a new deputy.” He paused, but this time there was no sense of anticipation among the Clan. Every cat knew who the Cloudpelt’s successor would be.

“I say these words before the body of Cloudpelt, and in the presence of the spirits of my ancestors, that they may hear and approve my choice,” Raggedstar announced. “Brokentail will be the new deputy of ShadowClan.” He raised his tail for silence before the Clan could break into the usual cheers. “True, Brokentail is still younger than most of you, but ShadowClan has never had a braver or more skillful warrior. He is an example to us all, and it will be a great honor to lead the Clan with him.”

Yowls rose up to welcome Brokentail. The warrior stood in the center of the clearing with his head held high and his eyes gleaming like two yellow moons. Yellowfang thought back to the time when he had been a friendless kit because no cat knew who his mother was. She had felt sorry for him then, and terribly guilty for abandoning her only son. But so much had happened since then, all of it overshadowed by Molepelt’s strange warning of blood and fire. However hard she tried, Yellowfang couldn’t feel pride in the warrior that stood before her now. Only fear and a deep sense of dread for the future.

He has come so far since he was a motherless kit. How much further will he go?

The sound of cats crashing through
the brambles woke Yellowfang. She sat up in her nest. The night was starless, pitch-black, and a brisk leaf-fall wind scoured across the camp.
Are we being attacked?

Then the sound of familiar voices drifted into the medicine cats’ den. Yellowfang let the fur on her neck lie down.
It’s only a night patrol returning
.

A moon before, shortly after he became deputy, Brokentail had decided that the Clan should start patrolling the borders at night. “Other Clans might attack us under cover of darkness,” he had stated. “But they’ll discover that ShadowClan is ready for them.”

Runningnose stirred in his nest beside Yellowfang. “These night patrols are a waste of time,” he complained. “We’re no more at risk of attack than the other Clans, because they’re all
sleeping
like we are.”

“Fox dung! StarClan-cursed thorns!” A voice sounded a couple of tail-lengths away.

“At least we should be sleeping,” Runningnose added dryly.

There was a rustle of movement as a cat slipped between the boulders into the den; Yellowfang recognized Frogtail by his scent. “What is it?” she called.

“I wrenched my shoulder jumping down from a tree trunk while I was on patrol,” Frogtail explained. “You can’t see your paw in front of your face on a night like this.”

Yellowfang sighed. “Come over here.”

She did her best to examine Frogtail’s shoulder in the dark. She could feel heat in his muscles and she let down her defenses, allowing herself to feel his pain briefly so that she could judge how bad it was. “You’ll live,” she grunted.

“Do I need herbs?” Frogtail meowed. “Poppy seeds to sleep?”

“No, your pain isn’t that bad,” Yellowfang told him. Brokentail’s new schedule of extra patrols and training had meant more injuries than usual and stocks of herbs were low. “You’ll be fine if you just rest.”

“Are you sure?” Frogtail sounded disappointed. “I can’t afford to miss any training, or Brokentail will put me back on apprentice duties.”

ShadowClan had no apprentices at the moment: Featherstorm’s litter, Mosskit, Volekit, and Dawnkit, were still too young, and Newtspeck had only recently given birth to Wetkit, Littlekit, and Brownkit. Until more kits could be apprenticed, the warriors were taking turns performing the duties.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Yellowfang suggested. “Apprentice duties will be easier on your shoulder than training and patrolling.”

“I guess,” Frogtail muttered. “Thanks anyway, Yellowfang,” he added as he padded out of the den.

Runningnose had already curled up again, but when Yellowfang returned to her nest, sleep eluded her. As soon as the sky began to grow pale with dawn, she made her way into the clearing. The ground was cold beneath her paws and in the dim light she could see a white rim of frost on every leaf and twig.
Leaf-bare is almost upon us
.

From the nursery she could hear the joyful squeaking of kits, and she pictured six warm, furry bodies squirming among the moss and pine needles. Yellowfang glowed with warmth as she imagined them growing big and strong over the next moons. But her hope was tinged with worry.
Our ranks are swelling; it might become hard to feed us all
. She wondered if she should pay the nursery a visit, then decided there was no need.
Featherstorm is an experienced queen, and Newtspeck has really good mothering instincts
.

A cough sounded behind Yellowfang. Startled, she turned to see that Nightpelt had emerged from the elders’ den. He was looking strained; his cough always troubled him more when the cold weather started to set in.

“I thought I’d go for a walk,” Yellowfang meowed. “Do you want to come?”

The black tom nodded and fell in beside her. The two cats slipped through the brambles, past Mousewing on guard, and padded into the trees. Yellowfang heaved a contented sigh as she gazed around at the territory, caught like crystal in the silver dawn. The trees and bushes were white with frost and every puddle was rimmed with ice that glittered in the growing light.

I’m so glad this is my home
.

“I trained here once with Flintpaw and Clawpaw,” Nightpelt mewed as they reached a thicket of dense bushes. “Flintpaw ran into a bees’ nest in that tree over there—I’ve never heard a cat yowl so loud!”

“I remember,” Yellowfang responded; she had used up most of her stocks of dock leaves treating the young cat’s stings. “He was very brave about the pain.”

Nightpelt nodded. “He’d only just healed when he convinced us to go fishing in the stream near the big ash tree. We all came back soaking wet, and we didn’t catch a thing.”

“And Stonetooth told you to leave fishing to RiverClan,” Yellowfang recalled. “You and your denmates were always causing trouble!” She padded on a few paw steps, then asked, “Do you mind not being a warrior anymore?”

Nightpelt paused before replying. “I am still a warrior inside,” he mewed at last. “I have the same spirit, the same loyalty to my Clan. I hope that one day I will find new ways to prove this, besides warrior duties.”

“I’m sure you’ll never stop finding ways to prove your love for ShadowClan,” Yellowfang told him, touching him lightly on the shoulder with her tail-tip.

As they headed back toward the camp, they met a patrol on their way out. Stumpytail and Tangleburr were bounding in the lead, closely followed by Rowanberry, Blackfoot, and Deerfoot. Brokentail brought up the rear.

“Are you going hunting?” Yellowfang called.

“No, this is battle training,” Stumpytail announced, his whiskers quivering with excitement. “Brokentail has asked us to be dogs, and chase our Clanmates through the forest.”

Yellowfang blinked. “Doesn’t the Clan need feeding first?”

Deerfoot flicked his tail. “They can wait. It’s not like we’ll be long.”

Yellowfang and Nightpelt watched the patrol as it charged off through the trees.

“I’m going to climb a tree!” Stumpytail meowed. “Then I’ll jump down on the dogs and
shred
them!”

“But we’ll be too fast for you,” Tangleburr countered. “So you can stay up your tree until you freeze!”

“Brokentail has really inspired them,” Nightpelt commented as he and Yellowfang went on toward the camp. “The next cats to trespass on our territory won’t spend long on the wrong side of the border.”

Yellowfang nodded. “The Clan is certainly strong at the moment.” She sensed they were both being careful about what they said.
Brokentail’s methods can sometimes be harsh; I’m sure Nightpelt would agree with me on that
. The silence hung heavily between them as they pushed through the brambles into the camp.

As soon as they emerged into the clearing, Featherstorm came dashing toward them from the nursery. “Oh, Yellowfang, thank StarClan you’re back!” she exclaimed. “Volekit has started coughing.”

“I’ll come and look at him right away,” Yellowfang mewed.

She could hear the kit’s persistent cough as she slid through the entrance to the nursery. Volekit was squatting in his bedding, a miserable bundle of fur, his tiny body shaken by coughs. His two littermates looked on with wide, anxious eyes.

Yellowfang placed a paw on his chest and felt feverish heat striking through her pads. “How long has he been like this?” she asked Featherstorm.

“It came on in the night,” the she-cat replied. “How bad is it, Yellowfang? Is it whitecough?”