by Erin Hunter
The patrol waited while Hollyflower renewed a scent marker, then padded on with Newtspeck in the lead. A few heartbeats later the warrior halted, her head raised and her jaws parted. “What’s that smell?” she muttered.
Veering away from the border, she bounded toward a sprawling clump of brambles at the foot of a pine tree. Yellowfang followed more slowly with the rest of the patrol. Before she had taken more than a couple of paw steps, she picked up the new scent, too: squirrel, but with a sweetish, rotting tang that made her neck fur bristle.
“Over here!” Newtspeck called.
Yellowfang wriggled beside Newtspeck as the black-and-ginger she-cat peered into the thicket. A half-eaten squirrel lay under the thorns, its gray fur clumped and sticky with blood. Flies crawled over its torn flesh and buzzed upward in a swarm as Newtspeck stretched out her neck and gave the crow-food a sniff.
“That’s disgusting!” Toadskip exclaimed.
Newtspeck drew back, passing her tongue over her lips as if she was trying to get rid of a foul taste. “Some cat has been stealing prey!” she announced, her voice quivering with anger.
Yellowfang took a careful sniff; beneath the stink of rotting crow-food she detected other scents lingering on the cold, ripped fur. Black stone underpaw, greasy puddles with the bitter tang of monsters, and an underlying hint of the slop that kittypets eat … “The cat that killed this squirrel came from Twolegplace!” she hissed.
Toadskip gave a snort of disbelief. “Kittypets don’t hunt!”
“I think Yellowfang’s right,” Hollyflower responded. “There’s Twolegplace scent here … and besides, what warrior leaves prey half-eaten like this?”
“We can’t let them get away with it,” Toadskip snarled.
“We won’t.” Hollyflower gathered her patrol with a flick of her tail and led them through the trees until they crossed their own border and stood beneath the looming walls of the Twolegplace. “Split up,” she ordered. “See if you can find the place where the kittypet came into the forest.”
Yellowfang headed for a high fence made of interwoven strips of wood. Twoleg dens lay on the other side of it. She crept along the bottom of the barrier, jaws parted, then halted as she picked up the mingled scent of two or three kittypets. They matched up exactly with the scents on the half-eaten squirrel. “I’ve found it!” she called out.
Hollyflower came bounding up with the other warriors behind her, and sniffed at the place Yellowfang indicated. “Not much doubt about that,” she murmured, with a look of distaste. “Toadskip, climb the fence and see what’s on the other side.”
The tabby tom leaped upward, digging his claws into the wood until he had scrambled to the top. For a couple of heartbeats he gazed down on the other side, then turned back with a shrug. “Nothing,” he reported. “Just Twoleg grass and plants. No sign of any cats.”
“That’s because they only come out at night,” Yellowfang meowed.
Her Clanmates gazed at her with surprise.
“How do you know that?” Newtspeck prompted.
“Oh … uh … one of the elders told me,” Yellowfang mumbled. To her relief, no cat questioned her further.
“So what do we do now?” Toadskip asked, hopping down onto the grass beside the others.
Hollyflower thought for a moment. “Toadskip, you and Newtspeck had better bury that squirrel,” she ordered. “And then finish the patrol. Yellowfang, you come back to camp with me. Cedarstar will want to know about this.”
Moonlight shone down into the camp as the warriors of ShadowClan gathered in the clearing. Cedarstar had been as outraged as Yellowfang had expected when Hollyflower reported that kittypets had been killing prey on ShadowClan territory.
“I’ll lead two patrols out there tonight,” he had decided. “We’ll show those kittypets that they don’t mess with ShadowClan.”
Yellowfang’s paws tingled as she followed her Clan leader through the brambles. She felt proud that Cedarstar had chosen her for one of the patrols, but at the same time her belly was churning with nervousness.
What if one of the kittypets recognizes me?
Waiting for her turn to pass through the entrance, she tried to catch Raggedpelt’s eye. She knew he must be feeling just as nervous.
What if it was Hal who killed the squirrel?
But Raggedpelt wouldn’t look at her, deliberately turning his back and talking to Nutwhisker.
Yellowfang jumped as she felt a prod in her side. “Come on, move your paws,” Scorchwind hissed. “Are you waiting for daylight?”
Yellowfang realized that she was blocking the gap. “Sorry,” she muttered, plunging into the thorns and trying to put Raggedpelt out of her mind.
A cold breeze whispered through the pine needles as the warriors plunged into the trees. Black shadows shifted over the ground from the movement of the branches, and silver flakes of moonlight dappled the cats’ fur. With Yellowfang in Cedarstar’s patrol were Rowanberry, Deerleap, and Raggedpelt. Just behind them Stonetooth led the second patrol: Scorchwind, Nutwhisker, Newtspeck, and Crowtail.
When the harsh lights of the Twolegplace appeared through the trees, Cedarstar halted. All the warriors gathered around him and he spoke in a low voice. “The two patrols will split up and watch for the kittypets from opposite sides,” he mewed. “All of you take cover, and don’t move until I give the signal. Maybe we can finish this without a fight.”
“What signal?” Stonetooth asked.
“I’ll kink my tail like this,” Cedarstar replied, demonstrating. He dug his claws into the ground. “You are ShadowClan warriors and I trust you. Once the fighting starts, make sure that those kittypets don’t know what hit them.”
Stonetooth gave a curt nod and led his patrol away. Cedarstar took his cats in the opposite direction, toward the fence where Yellowfang had scented the intruders. There wasn’t much undergrowth beneath the pine trees, but they found shelter behind the brambles where Newtspeck had discovered the squirrel.
Yellowfang crouched among the thorns with Deerleap on one side of her and Raggedpelt on the other, their pelts brushing. Yellowfang was acutely aware of him, embarrassed to be so close when he refused to be her friend anymore. “Won’t the kittypets scent so many of us?” she whispered. “If they know we’re here, they won’t come out.”
Deerleap gave a disdainful sniff. “Most kittypets couldn’t scent a fox if it was right in front of them.”
Yellowfang gave a small mrrow of amusement. “I guess they never had a mentor to tell them to look, listen, and scent.”
“Quiet there!” Cedarstar’s low voice came from somewhere close by.
Tucking her paws underneath her, Yellowfang settled down. As she gazed along the Twoleg fence she spotted small movements among the grass that told her where Stonetooth’s patrol was hiding. There was no sign of any kittypets, and the only scents Yellowfang could pick up when she tasted the air were faint and stale.
The night dragged on and nothing happened. Yellowfang grew cold and cramped; she longed to get up and stretch her legs, but she knew how angry Cedarstar would be if she so much as twitched a whisker. Cold was gripping her pelt by the time she heard Cedarstar hiss, “Look! Up there!”
Squinting through the brambles, Yellowfang spotted two cats slinking over the fence from the Twolegplace. For a moment they stood outlined against the sky. A heartbeat later they leaped down to the ground and she was able to see them more clearly. The scrawny she-cat with the untidy russet pelt was horribly familiar.
Red!
Yellowfang’s belly lurched with dismay. The last thing she wanted was for her Clanmates to find out about the night she and Raggedpelt had visited the Twolegplace. Will Red say anything? she wondered.
As the two kittypets hesitated beside the fence, Cedarstar leaped out of the shelter of the brambles and strode toward them. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “The forest is our place. Go back to your Twolegs.”
Red faced the ShadowClan leader without a trace of f
ear. Yellowfang had to admire her courage as the kittypet glared at Cedarstar, who was much bigger than she was, his muscles rippling beneath his pelt.
“You can’t stop us from coming here!” Red declared. “We don’t live by your rules.”
“We can make you stop if we want to,” Cedarstar retorted.
The second cat, an older tabby tom who Yellowfang didn’t recognize, took a pace forward to stand at Red’s shoulder. “I’d like to see you try,” he hissed. “You wild cats think you’re so great! Lay one claw on us and I’ll wipe that smug look off your face.”
Cedarstar didn’t respond in words. Instead he raised his tail and kinked it in the signal for battle. Instantly the rest of the warriors rose out of the shadows with angry yowls. They surrounded the kittypets, a barrier of furious cats with teeth bared and claws at the ready. Raggedpelt and Nutwhisker stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their lips drawn back in snarls of defiance. Rowanberry was flexing her claws as if she couldn’t wait to sink them into a kittypet.
Yellowfang saw a look of sheer astonishment cross the faces of Red and the tabby. But neither of them turned to flee. The tabby tom let out a screech and three more cats jumped over the fence and landed on the ground beside the kittypets. Yellowfang winced as she recognized the skinny gray tom.
Boulder’s here now! This just gets worse and worse …
Cedarstar launched himself at Red, and the rest of the warriors leaped into battle behind their leader. Yellowfang hung back, reluctant to tangle with a cat who might recognize her. She watched at the edge of the battle as Red shoved Cedarstar off balance, sending him stumbling against a tree stump. The Clan leader gathered himself and leaped at Red again; the russet she-cat sprang away, only to trip over a tangle of tree roots and fall on one side. Cedarstar gave her a swipe over her haunches before spinning around and hurling himself back into the thick of the fight.
Yellowfang stared at Red, who was struggling to wrench one forepaw clear of the roots. Could I possibly talk to her? She took a hesitant step toward Red, feeling a stab of pain shoot through her paw, then halted as Deerleap gave her a shove. “Attack!” the old cat snarled. “This is what I trained you for!”
Hot shame flooded through Yellowfang. Picking out a plump ginger tom she had never seen before, she aimed a blow at his shoulder, knocking him off balance. The tom struggled to get to his paws, but before Yellowfang could follow up her first blow, Red, free of the roots now, slipped between them, spinning around to face Yellowfang with fury in her eyes.
The she-cat aimed a blow at Yellowfang, claws unsheathed to rake across her ear. Suddenly she stopped, her eyes open wide. “It’s you!” she gasped.
Newtspeck, battling the big tabby tom, heard Red’s exclamation and glanced over her shoulder at Yellowfang. “What does she mean?” she demanded.
Yellowfang couldn’t think of any reply. Taking advantage of Newtspeck’s brief distraction, the tabby tom she’d been fighting knocked her over and landed on top of her, putting an end to any more questions.
A heartbeat later Raggedpelt charged into the tangle of cats. “Don’t say a word!” he snarled into Red’s ear.
Red looked startled. “About what?”
“You know very well what—”
Raggedpelt was interrupted as Scorchwind dived for Red, aiming a blow at her shoulder. Red whipped around and raced for the fence.
“There’s no need to kill!” Stonetooth’s voice rang out above the yowls of fighting cats. “These are kittypets! We’ll soon send them wailing back to their Twolegs!”
“Pretty tough kittypets,” Yellowfang muttered to herself.
She turned to see Rowanberry battling Boulder. Her sister’s eyes flashed with the exhilaration of the fight as she leaped from side to side to confuse her opponent, her blows landing with precision. Slowly but inexorably she was driving the skinny gray tom back toward the fence. Blood trickled down his face from a torn ear.
Yellowfang intercepted a black-and-white tom, who was racing to help Boulder, by rearing up onto her hind legs and buffeting his ears with her forepaws. The black-and-white cat crumpled to the ground. But though Yellowfang relished the strength of her muscles and the certainty of her swiping paws, she couldn’t help wincing with every blow she landed. She stung all over as if her pelt had been ripped off.
I have to toughen up, she thought. I’m fighting for my Clan!
She was forcing the tom back against the fence when she suddenly felt pressure on her throat, as if something was crushing her windpipe. Her attack faltered as she struggled to breathe. The tom launched himself at her again; through swirling vision Yellowfang saw that Nutwhisker had flung himself between them, giving her a moment’s respite.
Her breath rasping in her throat, Yellowfang turned to see the big tabby holding Deerleap down with one paw planted on her neck. Yellowfang staggered across to them, swiping her claws down the tabby’s flank. He rolled over and scrambled away.
“Thanks, Yellowfang,” Deerleap gasped, struggling to her paws. “But I was fine, really. I was just going to throw him into the brambles.”
And hedgehogs might fly, Yellowfang thought, though she would never have spoken the words aloud. The pressure on her throat had vanished and she could breathe freely again, her chest heaving as she sucked air into her lungs. What’s happening to me?
A triumphant yowl from Cedarstar distracted her. “That’s right! Get out, and don’t come back!”
Yellowfang saw the kittypets frantically clawing their way up the fence and vanishing over the other side. None of them looked badly injured, and glancing around at her Clanmates Yellowfang realized that they weren’t seriously wounded either.
“Thank StarClan!” she breathed.
She felt so shaky that her legs would hardly hold her up, and one of her paws hurt so much that she could scarcely put it to the ground, though she couldn’t remember when it had been injured. She spotted Raggedpelt a tail-length away, and this time she managed to meet his gaze. “Red nearly gave us away,” she mewed. “It was so close!”
“Too close,” Raggedpelt growled. Without saying more, he turned away and stalked off in the direction of the camp.
Yellowfang tried to follow, but her head spun with pain and she staggered.
“What’s wrong?” Deerleap asked, stretching out her neck to give Yellowfang a concerned sniff.
“I—I’m okay,” Yellowfang stammered, trying to hide her weakness. Exhaustion wrapped around her like a heavy black cloud.
“Is something the matter?” Cedarstar padded across to Yellowfang’s side, concern in his eyes. “Yellowfang, are you hurt?”
“I don’t know …”
Deerleap sniffed Yellowfang all over and stood back with a puzzled frown. “Just a scratch or two … there must be something wrong that we can’t see. Come on, Yellowfang, lean on my shoulder. We’ll get you back to camp and let Sagewhisker take a look at you.”
Yellowfang and Deerleap were the last cats to struggle back into the camp. The sky was growing pale and the stars were fading. When Yellowfang and her former mentor emerged from the tunnel, the rest of the Clan was gathered around the returned patrols in an excited huddle.
“And then I slashed him over the ear like this,” Nutwhisker was meowing. “You should have heard him screech!”
Skirting the edge of the group, Yellowfang limped to Sagewhisker’s den, thankful for Deerleap’s shoulder supporting her. She slipped between the boulders that formed the entrance to the den, and sank down onto the moss inside.
Sagewhisker looked up from counting poppy seeds. “Yellowfang? Were you hurt in the battle?”
“I’m not sure,” Deerleap meowed. “I didn’t see her take any particularly bad blows, and I can’t find any injuries on her, but she’s exhausted and she can hardly walk. Something isn’t right.”
“Hmm …” Sagewhisker glanced from Deerleap to Yellowfang and back again. “Okay, Deerleap, you can leave her with me. I’ll give her a thorough checkup.”
Y
ellowfang looked up nervously as Sagewhisker padded over to her. The medicine cat didn’t ask her any questions, just sniffed her all over, parting her fur here and there with gentle paws. Finally she sat down beside Yellowfang and wrapped her tail neatly around her forepaws.
“There’s hardly a scratch on you, but you already know that, don’t you?”
Yellowfang stared at her, baffled. “I must be wounded! I hurt all over.”
Sagewhisker paused for a moment before replying. “Which part of you hurts the most?”
“This paw.” Yellowfang stretched out a forepaw. “I can hardly put any weight on it.”
“Did any other cat hurt her paw?”
Yellowfang tried to remember the chaos of the battle. “Well, Red … I mean, one of the kittypets got her paw stuck under a root. But that didn’t have anything to do with me.”
Sagewhisker didn’t comment. “And what’s the next worst pain?”
“My ear.” Yellowfang flicked it, wincing. “It feels like some cat tore it off.”
“No, it’s still there, quite untouched,” Sagewhisker assured her. “Did you see any cat with an injured ear?”
Yellowfang nodded, remembering Rowanberry’s fight with Boulder and the blood trickling down his face.
“What about a flank injury?” the medicine cat persisted.
“How would I know?” Yellowfang retorted, irritable because Sagewhisker’s questions were starting to make her feel uncomfortable. “I was in the battle, you know, not watching from up in a tree.” When Sagewhisker didn’t respond, she added uncertainly, “Maybe Cedarstar … he fell against a tree stump.”
“I’ll have to see him about that,” Sagewhisker meowed.
“But what about me?” Yellowfang protested. “Aren’t you going to treat my injuries?”
Sagewhisker gazed at her from calm green eyes. “I’ve already told you, Yellowfang, you hardly have a scratch on you. You fought well and escaped without injury. What you are feeling is the injuries of the other cats.”