by Erin Hunter
Yellowfang blinked, surprised by the medicine cat’s confidence in her. Hey, I’m not your apprentice! she thought, then shrugged and padded out with the berry.
Lizardfang looked up in alarm when Yellowfang pushed her way back into the elders’ den. “Why didn’t Sagewhisker come?” he meowed. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Yellowfang told him. “I’m just helping out. Come on, Littlebird, Sagewhisker sent you this juniper berry. It’ll help you breathe.”
Littlebird took the berry from Yellowfang’s claw, chewed feebly, and managed to swallow it. Then she flopped back down and closed her eyes. To Yellowfang’s relief the tightness in her own chest began to relax.
“Look, Lizardfang,” Yellowfang suggested, “if we build the moss up a bit on this side, Littlebird can be more upright while she rests. It should help her to breathe more easily.”
Lizardfang hoisted Littlebird while Yellowfang built up a mound of moss underneath the elder’s shoulders. The sick cat let out a sigh; already her breathing was starting to improve. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Lizardfang curled up beside Littlebird to keep her warm, and Yellowfang headed back to Sagewhisker’s den. Her own breathing had eased along with Littlebird’s.
The medicine cat was still awake, and halfway sat up as Yellowfang slipped between the boulders. “How is she?”
“Better,” Yellowfang replied. “I don’t think you need to see her tonight.”
Sagewhisker nodded. “Thanks, Yellowfang. I’ll look in on her at dawn.”
Thrusting her way back into the warriors’ den, Yellowfang noticed that Raggedpelt was awake, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness. “Where have you been?” he whispered.
“Helping Littlebird,” Yellowfang responded, weaving her way among the sleeping cats to reach her nest. “She couldn’t breathe, so I fetched a juniper berry for her.”
Raggedpelt’s eyes narrowed. “That’s Sagewhisker’s responsibility, not yours.”
Relieved that he hadn’t asked her how she knew Littlebird needed help, Yellowfang meowed, “I just don’t want to let my Clanmates suffer, okay?”
Raggedpelt let out a snort that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “I said we’d be leader and deputy, not leader and medicine cat!”
He beckoned with his tail, and Yellowfang curled up beside him, their pelts pressed together against the cold. This is good, Yellowfang thought drowsily as she sank into sleep. I wish we could always be like this.
The full moon floated high above the ShadowClan camp. Yellowfang hadn’t been chosen to go to the Gathering, but she couldn’t sleep until she found out what had happened there. She sat in the warriors’ den, paws tucked under her, until she heard the sound of paws racing across the packed earth floor of the camp. Raggedpelt was the first cat to appear, thrusting his broad shoulders through the outer branches of the den.
“Any news?” Yellowfang asked, springing up.
Raggedpelt’s expression was grim. “All the Clans looked better fed than us,” he reported, his lips drawn back in the beginning of a snarl. “And Heatherstar of WindClan told this ridiculous story about picking up ShadowClan scent on their territory.”
“That’s completely unfair!” Yellowfang meowed indignantly. “No cat has been over there.”
“I know that, but WindClan won’t believe it.” Raggedpelt gave his whiskers a disgusted twitch. “And that’s not all. Featherwhisker, the ThunderClan medicine cat, was asking Foxheart and Russetpaw some very odd questions.”
“What sort of questions?”
“Oh, is everything okay in ShadowClan … that sort of thing.”
Yellowfang was puzzled. “But Featherwhisker must have seen Sagewhisker at the half-moon … why does he need to ask questions at a Gathering? Unless he was concerned that all our warriors look so thin.”
Raggedpelt snorted. “Medicine cats should keep their noses where they belong!”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Yellowfang soothed him, resting her tail-tip on his shoulder.
By now more cats were pushing their way into the den. Foxheart scampered past, her paws scattering moss, with Lizardstripe just behind her. She halted when she saw Yellowfang. “Did you stay behind to go hunting for herbs?” she teased.
“Yeah, it must be really hard to track down leaves,” Lizardstripe added.
The two she-cats exchanged a glance and let out a mrrow of mocking laughter.
Yellowfang rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother to reply.
“You know, they have a point,” Raggedpelt mewed when Foxheart and Lizardstripe had gone on to their nests. “You spend too much time helping Sagewhisker when you should be doing warrior duties.”
Yellowfang bristled. “You’re not Clan leader; don’t tell me what to do,” she muttered, turning her back on Raggedpelt.
She felt Raggedpelt’s warm breath on the back of her neck. “I’m not telling you what to do,” he murmured. “It’s just a suggestion, okay? You’re a warrior, not a medicine cat. I know that, you know that, you just need to make sure that it’s clear to the rest of the Clan, too.”
Yellowfang stepped forward, dipping her head to the Clan leader. “I’d like to join a hunting patrol, please, Cedarstar.”
It was the morning after the Gathering. Cedarstar and Stonetooth were organizing the first patrols. The air was still icy cold but the sun gleamed in a pale blue sky, and somewhere high above, a bird was twittering. Yellowfang’s heart rose at the prospect of prey.
“Fine, Yellowfang,” Cedarstar meowed. “You can go with Archeye, Wolfstep, and Amberleaf.”
As Yellowfang padded over to join them, she caught a look of approval from Raggedpelt. He was leading a different patrol with Blizzardwing, Brackenfoot, and Newtspeck. Though she was disappointed that she couldn’t hunt with him, Yellowfang felt satisfied.
At least now he can’t say I don’t do warrior duties!
Archeye took the lead as the patrol headed out of the camp and across the icebound marsh. “I think we’ll try the edges of the Thunderpath today,” he announced. “No cat has hunted there for a few days.”
Yellowfang and the others followed him until they approached the place where the tunnel led underneath the Thunderpath. The moorland of WindClan swelled on the far side, outlined sharply against the sky.
Archeye halted and stared at the hills with narrowed eyes. “I can’t believe what Heatherstar said at the Gathering last night. She accused us of trespassing!”
Amberleaf flicked her tail. “Let her talk. WindClan cats are all meow and no claws.”
Yellowfang wasn’t so sure. She sniffed around the nearby clumps of grass for any signs of fresh herbs and prey. Suddenly she froze. She had picked up a different scent, not one she had hoped for. “Wait!” she called to the patrol, who were starting to move off again. “We may have intruders. WindClan intruders.”
Archeye spun around. “Where?”
Yellowfang beckoned with a flick of her ears, and her Clanmates came to sniff the clump where she had detected the WindClan tang.
“That’s them all right,” Amberleaf confirmed with a brisk nod. “And it’s fresh.”
“See if you can pick up the trail,” Archeye mewed softly. “And keep quiet. They may still be around.”
All three cats began to cast back and forth, jaws parted to taste the air. Wolfstep was the first to pick up further traces of the invaders. He signaled with his tail, and Archeye took the lead again, following the scent trail.
How dare those mangy WindClan cats cross our border? Yellowfang thought. They accuse us of trespassing, and then they set their filthy paws on our territory!
The trail led toward the underground tunnels. But before they reached the edge of the Thunderpath, the patrol rounded a spindly thicket of birches and came upon four cats, confidently surveying ShadowClan territory. Yellowfang recognized them from previous Gatherings: Dawnstripe and the young warrior Talltail, and a tom called Redclaw with his apprentice, Shrewpaw.
&n
bsp; “What in the name of StarClan are you doing here?” Archeye demanded.
All four WindClan cats jumped at the sound of his voice, and whipped around to face the ShadowClan patrol. Yellowfang saw a flash of guilt in their faces, which vanished almost at once to be replaced with defiance.
Dawnstripe stepped forward. “ShadowClan scent has been found on WindClan territory,” she asserted.
“That’s not true!” Archeye’s voice was furious, and his neck fur began to bristle.
Yellowfang moved forward to stand at Archeye’s shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his ribs jutting through his patchy gray coat. Can’t the WindClan cats see we’re all so weak that we can barely make it to the edge of our own territory?
“Even if we had trespassed on your territory,” Amberleaf meowed, “which we didn’t, that doesn’t give you the right to be over here.” She took a threatening step toward the intruders. “Get out now.”
“Oh, can’t we stay and have a look around?” Shrewpaw asked, his voice full of mock disappointment. “These skinny creatures aren’t going to be able to stop us.”
Without saying a word, Yellowfang and her Clanmates stepped into a battle line. A lightning bolt of anger sliced through Yellowfang. ShadowClan is strong! How dare WindClan cats talk to us like this?
“Look,” Archeye began, “you know you’re in the wrong. Leave now, and we can avoid a fight.”
The WindClan cats didn’t move. Yellowfang felt tension tingling through her body from her ears to tail-tip, and she flexed her claws.
“And if we don’t?” Redclaw sneered. “Are you going to eat us?”
Archeye let out a screech and leaped straight at the WindClan tom. The rest of the cats were no more than a heartbeat behind. But as the two toms clashed, Yellowfang felt a jolt of pain deep in her bones; she staggered, almost losing her balance. Talltail loomed over her, and Yellowfang struggled to get into the right position to defend herself. Beside her she caught a glimpse of Amberleaf with blood welling from a deep scratch along her flank. Then Dawnstripe leaped at her again with blood on her claws and Yellowfang shrieked with pain. She collapsed on the ground, her mind filled with visions of fur being shredded and blood gurgling in her throat, choking her. She felt Talltail’s claws slicing through her pelt to the flesh below, but she could only beat her paws at him feebly as if she were a frightened kit.
“Back off, Talltail.” Dawnstripe’s voice reached Yellowfang through the fog of pain. “We’ve done enough. That will teach these mangy cats not to trespass on WindClan territory.”
Yellowfang was too battered to speak. Beyond the pain, all she could think was that the WindClan cats were going to get away with invading ShadowClan. Then the thundering of paws beat at her ears, getting louder and louder. She was conscious of cats leaping past her, and caught a whiff of Raggedpelt’s scent. The other patrol is here! she realized, beginning to shake with relief. Blinking away the darkness that was trying to suck her away, Yellowfang raised her head to see Raggedpelt facing the WindClan cats.
“Get out!” he snarled. “If you think you can come here and attack our cats, you can think again. My claws will show you that you’re wrong.”
“Easy enough to say,” Dawnstripe growled.
But Yellowfang saw that the WindClan cats had suffered injuries too; there was a patch of fur missing from Dawnstripe’s shoulder, while both Shrewpaw and Redclaw were bleeding. Obviously they were in no mood for another fight.
“Don’t you dare set paw on our territory again.” Redclaw thrust out his neck so he was nose-to-nose with Raggedpelt. “Or you’ll get more of the same.”
Raggedpelt let out a contemptuous snort. “You terrify me.”
Redclaw’s only response was a glare. Then the WindClan cats were drawing back, heading for the Thunderpath and the tunnel that would lead them back to their own territory.
Yellowfang let her head rest on the ground again. She could feel blood pulsing out of her wounds, as well as the agony of every other cat’s injuries. She was aware of Raggedpelt bending over her, and felt his tongue rasping warmly over her ears.
“Let’s get you back to camp,” he mewed.
“No!” Yellowfang muttered. “Help Amberleaf first. She’s badly scratched.”
She felt Raggedpelt’s nose touch her ear, and his voice was unusually gentle. “Stupid furball, stop worrying about every other cat for once.”
With Raggedpelt on one side and Brackenfoot on the other, Yellowfang managed to stand and stagger back to camp. As she and the other cats emerged into the clearing, their Clanmates rushed out, letting out yowls of shock and distress when they saw how badly the patrol was injured.
Brightflower rushed over to Yellowfang. “What happened?” she asked, her eyes wide with distress. “Oh, Yellowfang … Come straight to Sagewhisker and have those wounds looked at.”
She paced beside Yellowfang as Raggedpelt and Brackenfoot supported her to the medicine cat’s den. Archeye limped off with Wolfstep to report to Cedarstar.
Some cat had warned Sagewhisker, who was already gathering cobwebs to stop the bleeding. She crouched down beside Yellowfang, telling Brightflower to go with Amberleaf to the warriors’ den. “Help Amberleaf clean up those scratches,” she instructed. “I’ll be over to see her as soon as I’ve dealt with Yellowfang.”
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.”
CHAPTER 18
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.
Sagewh
isker 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?”