by Erin Hunter
“I’m sure you will,” Nettlespot purred, looking down at her kit. “He’s completely better,” she added to Yellowfang, who was aware of the new note of respect in her tone. “That willow cured him, just like you said. And he’s grown so much in this last quarter moon!”
“I’m glad,” Yellowfang began. “He should—”
She broke off at the sound of yowls from the camp entrance. At the same moment a wave of pain flooded over her: sharp stabbing wounds as well as the dull ache of scratches.
“What’s that?” Nettlespot yelped, sitting up in alarm and drawing Cloudkit close to her with her tail.
Within a heartbeat Yellowfang forced herself to concentrate on the lack of injuries to her own body, until the pain eased. I am not hurt. The pain is not mine. Once she had it under control, she hurried out of the nursery. Sagewhisker had just appeared from her own den. Side by side she and Yellowfang bounded across the camp to meet the returning cats. Yellowfang could hear the blood rushing in her ears.
My Clanmates are wounded! But I am their medicine cat: I can help them!
CHAPTER 20
Brackenfoot and Deerleap hurtled out of the tunnel with Toadskip, Scorchwind, Rowanberry, and Finchflight hard on their paws. Yellowfang could see that all of them bore scratches and bitemarks.
“What happened?” Sagewhisker demanded.
“The rats happened,” Scorchwind growled.
Rowanberry shuddered. “So many rats!”
The rest of the Clan was emerging from their dens, clustering around and asking the same question. Eventually the returning patrol settled down in the middle of the clearing, with their Clanmates crowding around them. Cedarstar came out of his den, followed by Stonetooth, and joined them. Yellowfang found a place to sit next to Rowanberry and pricked her ears to listen.
“No.” Sagewhisker gave her a nudge. “We have to go around and check the injuries at the same time. Assess every cat, then treat the most seriously wounded first. I’ll fetch the herbs we need.”
Feeling embarrassed that she hadn’t realized that, Yellowfang jumped up and followed her mentor.
Meanwhile, Brackenfoot explained what had happened. “As you know, we went to hunt along the edge of Carrionplace. At first everything went well. Rowanberry caught a huge rat.” He gave the young warrior a nod of approval. “But then hordes of rats started pouring out of those stinking heaps and attacked us. You’ve never seen so many rats!”
“But rats are prey!” Newtspeck exclaimed. “Prey doesn’t fight back.”
“These rats do,” Brackenfoot responded. He shook his head; Yellowfang could sense his shame and embarrassment, and saw that the rest of his patrol shared it. “We had to flee,” he added. “There were too many for us to fight.”
“You did the right thing,” Cedarstar meowed, standing up to speak. “What good would it have done your Clan if you had been killed or seriously wounded? The good news is that there are plenty of rats. We just have to work out the best way to overpower them.”
No warrior spoke up, but Yellowfang could see that all the Clan was thinking hard, murmuring to one another as they worked out what they might do.
Nettlespot leaned closer to Toadskip. “You can’t go risking your life when you have your son, Cloudkit, to think about,” she told him.
Poolcloud, who was sitting close by, swiveled her head to look at Nettlespot. “Toadskip is the father of my kits, too,” she snapped. “But I wouldn’t dream of telling a warrior not to fight.”
Stonetooth distracted them by rising to his paws. “As I see it,” he began, “the problem is how to catch some rats without attracting the attention of the rest of them.”
Amberleaf raised her tail. “Just send one or two warriors at a time?” she suggested.
“Or hunt at night, in darkness?” Mousewing put in.
“Maybe we should wait for the wind to blow in the right direction,” Hollyflower added. “So it would hide our scent as we creep up?”
Sagewhisker appeared beside Yellowfang with her jaws full of herbs. “So where do we start?” she asked after setting down the dusty bundle.
“Scorchwind has a deep bite,” Yellowfang reported. “That’s the worst wound; it could become infected. Rowanberry has some mild scratches, and Brackenfoot has some claw marks that look sore.”
“No need to fuss about me,” Brackenfoot meowed, catching what his daughter said. “I’ve taken much worse wounds in my time.”
“I’ll fuss about you all I want,” Yellowfang responded tartly. “You’ll have some dock leaf to soothe the soreness, and like it.”
Brackenfoot dipped his head; Yellowfang caught a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Very well, medicine cat,” he purred.
As Yellowfang padded around treating the wounds and keeping her pain under careful control, she noticed Raggedpelt sitting at the edge of the crowd, his amber eyes smoldering. Now he stepped forward. “Are we not warriors?” he demanded, glaring around at his Clanmates. “We are proud, afraid of no enemy, trained to fight in any battle! We will not skulk like dogs around these rats, hiding under cover of darkness, or fleeing like foxes when they bare their teeth. They are rats! Prey! Fresh-kill! We will not be scared!”
A murmur of excitement rose from the cats around him. Raggedpelt crouched down and began to score lines in the frozen earth of the camp floor. “Look! Here’s Carrionplace. This is the route we should take from camp, coming out here. Patrols should attack from here, here, and here. We’ll drive the rats toward a fourth patrol, and contain them in the tightest area possible. We need to find a place where we’ll always be higher than the rats, to keep the advantage.” His voice grew stronger and more confident with every word. “We should build barriers on either side of the spot where the rats will emerge, to keep them blocked in. We’ll set a trap for them!” he ended triumphantly.
A moment of silence followed, every cat turning their gaze toward the Clan leader.
Cedarstar nodded. “It might work,” he pronounced.
Several cats pushed up to Raggedpelt to congratulate him, while others started talking in quiet tones. Yellowfang knew that not every cat would feel pride in Raggedpelt’s courageous plan; he was well respected in his Clan, but didn’t make friends easily.
But I’m proud of him, she thought, catching his eye and nodding to show him that she agreed it was a great idea.
Cedarstar, Stonetooth, and the other senior warriors huddled around Raggedpelt, examining the scratch marks he had made in the earth. Yellowfang, still helping Sagewhisker deal with injuries, found herself at the back of the crowd.
“I want to be in the final patrol,” Wolfstep meowed. “I’d be good at building the walls to trap the rats.”
Amberleaf slid out her claws. “I’ll chase the rats out of their den and into the ambush.”
Yellowfang opened her jaws to make a suggestion when she was distracted by a prod from Sagewhisker. “You’re not a warrior anymore,” the medicine cat reminded her. “Can you go back to the den and fetch me some burdock root? That’s the best cure for Scorchwind’s rat bite. Or wild garlic if you can’t find the burdock root.”
Yellowfang padded off with a pang in her heart for what she was missing. When she got back she chewed up the burdock root while Sagewhisker put marigold on Rowanberry’s scratches. When she came to treat Scorchwind’s bite, he was so excited to be discussing his brother’s plan that he wouldn’t keep still; Yellowfang couldn’t get the cobwebs to stick the poultice in place.
“Will you stop squirming around like a kit with ants in its pelt?” she meowed crossly.
Scorchwind gave her an impatient shrug. “I’m okay, Yellowfang. This is more important.”
“Fine!” Yellowfang snapped. “Bleed all over the place if you want! You’ve got the sense of an egg if you think you can trot around the forest with a hole in your flank.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Scorchwind flopped down on his side so Yellowfang could get at his rat bite. The sudden movement sent a pulse of
pain shooting through him, breaking Yellowfang’s careful control. More pain flooded over her: from Rowanberry and Brackenfoot; from Toadskip, who had torn a claw when fleeing from the rats; from Finchflight, whose paw was still hurting.
Yellowfang paused, taking a breath to clear her head. I am whole and well. This is not my pain.
“Can’t you hurry up?” Scorchwind prompted her.
Yellowfang glared at him as she slapped the poultice over his bite and secured it with cobwebs. Then she turned to look at Toadskip’s claw. By now Sagewhisker was finishing up with the other cats.
“That’s it,” she meowed to Yellowfang, who was winding cobweb around Toadskip’s paw. “We’re all done.”
Yellowfang sank down. She felt more exhausted than if she had done a whole border patrol.
“All of you should eat now and rest.” Cedarstar raised his voice to be heard by all the Clan. “After sunhigh there will be training to prepare for the rat attack tomorrow. Raggedpelt will be in charge.”
Excitement welled up inside Yellowfang, banishing some of her weariness. That’s such an honor for Raggedpelt!
She forced herself to her paws and plodded over to the tabby tom, who was in close discussion with Stonetooth and Brackenfoot. “Raggedpelt, that was a great idea,” she meowed.
Raggedpelt turned to give her a nod. “Thanks, Yellowfang.” He spoke lightly, but Yellowfang wanted to believe he appreciated what she said.
Sagewhisker was heading back to the den, and Yellowfang realized she should follow her, grabbing up the few leftover herbs as she went. Inside the den she sighed as she looked at the mess of overturned and rummaged herbs, all the different leaves mixed up together and scattered in the grass.
“It’ll be much worse after a battle, believe me,” Sagewhisker told her. “Come on, let’s get it cleared up.” As they began to sort through the scattered leaves, she added, “Raggedpelt has some good ideas. He’ll go far, that cat. Maybe even the next deputy.”
Yellowfang hid a thrilled purr. Raggedpelt could be close to achieving his ambition. Then a gust of regret shook her like a cold wind. Except I won’t be his deputy. I’ll be his medicine cat....
The following day Yellowfang woke to see a clear, bright sky with not a breath of wind to stir the trees. A perfect day for the attack, she thought as she poked her head out of the den.
The Clan was gathering in the clearing, buzzing with energy like a swarm of bees as Cedarstar, Stonetooth, and Raggedpelt arranged the patrols.
“Raggedpelt, you’ll lead the last group,” Stonetooth announced. “You’ll be responsible for killing the rats once they’ve been trapped.”
“I’ll fight beside you, blow for blow,” Foxheart meowed to Raggedpelt; Yellowfang thought sourly that she looked as if she were plastered to his side with cobwebs. She felt a stab of jealousy as she remembered how proud she had felt when she and Archeye had killed a rat on their visit to Carrionplace. Will I ever feel that kind of pride again?
Sagewhisker emerged from the den with a bundle of herbs. “Come on,” she mewed, her voice muffled by the leaves. “We have to be ready to go with them.”
“We’re going too?” Yellowfang asked, startled.
Sagewhisker nodded. “We’ll treat injuries as they occur, but stay out of the way of the fighting. That’s up to the warriors, okay?” Her eyes were stern, and Yellowfang knew she was giving her an unspoken reminder that she was a medicine cat now.
Yellowfang went back into the den and loaded up with herbs and cobweb. The sticky strands made her sneeze as she tried to pick them up. The rats will hear me coming long before we get anywhere near Carrionplace, she thought, frustrated. Then she realized she could stick the clumps of cobweb to her thick pelt, far enough from her muzzle that they didn’t make her sneeze, and went out again to join Sagewhisker, feeling pleased at her new idea.
The last of the patrols were already heading out of the camp. Yellowfang and Sagewhisker brought up the rear, following the warriors through the sparse, leaf-bare trees and across the marsh. The air was mild, and the persistent ice of leaf-bare was beginning to thaw; Yellowfang hissed in annoyance when she put her paw straight through one sheet of it into the freezing water below. After that she and Sagewhisker leaped from clump to clump of grass to keep their paws dry.
At last they drew close to the Carrionplace. Yellowfang could smell its stink before she saw the dark heaps looming up in front of her. Like before, the yellow monsters were quiet; the only sound came from big white birds that flapped and shrieked above the piles of waste.
While the patrols approached the Twoleg fence, Sagewhisker cast around among the bushes at the edge of the marsh.
“What are you doing?” Yellowfang asked.
“Finding a place under a bush,” the medicine cat replied, “where we can store our herbs and stay out of sight during the fighting.”
“So we’ll be hiding?” Yellowfang mewed in dismay. That feels like we’re cowards!
“No.” Sagewhisker’s eyes were sympathetic as she gazed at Yellowfang. “We’ll be keeping ourselves safe for when our Clanmates need us.”
Yellowfang still thought it was a strange way to behave, but she made no protest, and wriggled underneath a holly bush to lay out the herbs and cobweb they had brought. Her paws tingled with the urge to help as she watched Raggedpelt and his patrol pad up to the Twoleg fence. Raggedpelt found a hole in the silver mesh, and he and Featherstorm enlarged it with their teeth and claws to let cats in and rats out. Meanwhile, Foxheart and Wolfstep started dragging branches up to build the trap.
“Look what we found!” Newtspeck called from the edge of the marsh. She, Frogtail, and Lizardstripe were rolling a small tree trunk in front of them. “We managed to pull it out of the ground,” she panted as they reached the fence. “Its roots are rotten, so it wasn’t hard. I thought it would make a good vantage point for us to stand and jump down on the rats.”
Raggedpelt nodded. “You’re right; it will.”
As the walls of the trap took shape he checked them carefully, leaping up on top to make sure they would bear a cat’s weight. At one point the wall collapsed under him; Yellowfang gasped as he vanished in a whirl of flailing limbs and flying branches. But a moment later he crawled out, shaking debris from his pelt.
“Build it up again,” he ordered, “and put a stronger branch at the bottom this time.”
Raggedpelt stepped back while the rest of his patrol worked on the repairs. Yellowfang slipped out from under the holly bush and padded over to him. “Good luck,” she murmured.
Raggedpelt looked at her. “I wish you were fighting alongside me,” he mewed.
Yellowfang turned her head away. “I will be here,” she whispered.
She expected that Raggedpelt would walk away from her in disgust; instead she felt his nose touch her ear. “I’ll see you after the battle,” he promised.
A screech sounded from somewhere inside the Carrionplace, telling Raggedpelt that the other patrols were in place. Raggedpelt checked that his own patrol was ready, then yowled in reply.
“Yellowfang! Over here!”
Yellowfang looked around to see Sagewhisker beckoning to her from under the bush. Reluctantly she bounded back to join her, but stayed outside the branches to watch the attack. She realized she was holding her breath.
Silence followed the yowls, broken after a few heartbeats by faint sounds of scrabbling and hissing. The cats are chasing the rats out of their dens in the waste! Then Yellowfang heard squeaks growing rapidly louder, and the sound of scratching paws. She craned her neck forward, peering through the silver mesh.
Suddenly Yellowfang spotted a rat hurtling out of the heap of waste. It swerved away from the hole that Raggedpelt’s patrol had made, but was driven back on course by Nutwhisker leaping down to block its way. The first rat was followed by more, and more and more—more rats than Yellowfang had ever seen before. At the same time, cats began to appear, leaping down from the waste to steer the rats toward the hol
e in the mesh.
Raggedpelt’s patrol was waiting on top of the barriers, crouched and ready to pounce. The rats swirled at the base of the fence, beginning to panic as they realized they were trapped. Yellowfang saw Brackenfoot jump into the center of the heaving mass and shove one toward the hole.
“That way, stupid flea-pelt!” he snarled.
The other rats fled after it, thinking they had found a way of escape. But their squeaks grew louder when they realized that cats were waiting on that side of the fence, too. Raggedpelt’s patrol jumped down one by one, grabbing a rat and dealing the deathblow, and scrambling back out with the fresh-kill in their jaws.
“It’s working!” Foxheart yowled.
“Watch out for their teeth!” Wolfstep panted as he dragged out a rat almost as big as he was.
It’s all happening so fast! Yellowfang thought, her gaze fixed on Raggedpelt. She held her breath every time he disappeared down into the trap, and let out a gasp of relief when he reappeared with a dead rat.
Then a yelp from beyond the fence distracted her. Yellowfang let out a wail of fear when she saw that the cats on the far side of the fence were surrounded. More and more rats had poured out of the pile, too many to fit into the trap. With nowhere to escape, they had turned on the warriors, clawing and biting, and the warriors were badly outnumbered, trapped against the fence while waves of rats crashed over them.
Raggedpelt was the first in his patrol to notice what was happening. “Stop killing!” he yowled. “We have to help the others!”
But the hole in the fence was blocked by terrified rats; Raggedpelt and his cats had to scramble over the silver mesh in a desperate attempt to help their Clanmates.
Yellowfang’s belly clenched as Stonetooth went down with a couple of huge rats clinging to him. More cats rushed to help him, but the swarming rats blocked their way. Cedarstar disappeared under a wave of brown bodies and lashing hairless tails.