by Erin Hunter
Another harsh tang mixed with the traces of the night patrol. Yellowfang’s heart started to pound and she broke into a run, her nostrils flared with the scent of blood. The night patrol had reported no skirmishes on any of the boundaries, yet somewhere a cat was badly hurt. Yellowfang’s fur stood on end as all her instincts pricked with alarm. Something is terribly wrong!
She burst through a line of trees and stumbled to a halt in a small clearing. Panting hard, she gazed around and saw a thin shaft of starlight breaking through the branches. It rested on two tiny heaps of fur, as still as rocks in the cold air. One tortoiseshell, one gray, both ripped apart by the jaws of some cruel creature who couldn’t even be bothered to stay and eat his prey.
Oh, no! StarClan, not even you could be this cruel.
Yellowfang bounded across the clearing to where the little bodies lay, their blood spattering the ferns. She bent over them, desperately checking for signs of life, and opened herself to their pain in the hope that it would prove they were still alive. But she was too distraught to be sure if she could feel the flicker that would tell her there was still hope.
Desperately summoning her medicine cat skills, Yellowfang looked around for anything nearby that she could treat them with or pad their wounds. But the clearing was barren: no sign of a scrap of cobweb or marigold leaf. Clinging to the last traces of hope, Yellowfang curled her body around the kits, licking their still-warm fur.
Come on, little ones! Live!
Crashing paw steps disturbed her, followed by a ghastly wail. Yellowfang looked up to see Brightflower standing on the other side of the clearing, staring in horror. Brokenstar was just behind her.
“What happened?” Brokenstar demanded.
“I found them like this,” Yellowfang replied, her voice shaking. “It must have been a fox!”
Brokenstar sniffed the air. “I don’t smell any fox.”
“It was here!” Yellowfang insisted. “I heard it just before I found them.”
Brightflower padded forward and gazed down at the two tiny shapes. “My babies, my babies!”
Yellowfang stared at Brokenstar. “You need to look for the fox! It could be close by!”
“Yellowfang, I can only pick up your scent,” Brokenstar mewed quietly. “Come back to the camp with me.”
“What about the fox?”
“There is no fox here,” Brokenstar growled. “Come.”
Dazed, Yellowfang rose to her paws. Her fur was sticky with blood and her mouth was full of the taste of death. “I’ll carry one of the kits,” she mewed.
“No,” Brokenstar ordered. “I’ll send warriors to bring them. Brightflower, you wait here.”
Brightflower took Yellowfang’s place and folded her body around her kits. She didn’t look up at Yellowfang or Brokenstar as they left the clearing.
Brokenstar padded beside Yellowfang as they returned to camp. The moon was setting by the time they reached the clearing. The sky was gray with cloud and there was a tang of rain in the air. All the cats were out of their dens, busily searching for the kits. Boulder was the first to notice Yellowfang, and halted, staring at her. Gradually the other cats realized that she had returned and stopped what they were doing, until Yellowfang felt as if the gaze of every cat in the Clan was fixed on her. She could read shock in their eyes, and a flicker of unease joined the grief she felt for Mintkit and Marigoldkit.
“Russetfur. Frogtail.” Brokenstar’s voice cut into the silence, and he beckoned with his tail. “Follow our scent trail, and bring Brightflower and the kits back to the camp.”
He waited until the two warriors had left, then crossed to the foot of the Clanrock, jerking his head for Yellowfang to follow him. “Come closer,” he ordered the Clan, as if he was too distressed to leap onto the rock and summon them formally.
As the Clan gathered, silent and apprehensive, Runningnose bounded across to Yellowfang from the medicine cats’ den. “Are you hurt?” he gasped. “All this blood …”
“It’s not my blood,” Yellowfang choked out, as if telling him would make the terrible truth more real. “It’s … the kits’.”
A stunned murmur rose from the Clan, and Brackenfoot stepped forward, his eyes huge with fear. “Tell me what happened.”
“I found them in a clearing—” Yellowfang began.
Brokenstar cut her off with a lash of his tail. “Yellowfang went to look for the kits after Brightflower told her they were missing,” he announced. “When I found her, she was with the kits, but they were both dead. Yellowfang claimed they had been attacked by a fox.”
“A fox!” Newtspeck exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear. “On our territory? It could kill us all!”
“We have to send out a patrol to track it,” Blackfoot meowed.
More fearful cries came from the Clan, but Brokenstar silenced them with a flick of his tail. “I found no trace of fox anywhere near the kits.”
“Then how did they die?” Stumpytail asked.
“Yes, how?” Deerfoot echoed. “We have to know!”
Brokenstar took a step away from Yellowfang. “Only one cat knows the truth,” he meowed softly.
Brackenfoot stared at Yellowfang in horror. “Did you kill them?” he whispered.
“Of course not!” Yellowfang shrieked. In her worst nightmares she had never imagined that her own father could accuse her of something so terrible. “They were dead when I found them!”
“We have no reason to believe that Yellowfang killed them,” Brokenstar put in. “Why would she?”
“She’s been under a lot of strain recently, with all the battles,” Wolfstep pointed out.
“She said she didn’t want to treat my scratch because it was a waste of herbs!” Dawnpaw added with an indignant flourish of her tail.
“Yes, she hasn’t been herself lately,” Tangleburr meowed. “I asked her about a pain in my belly, and she practically bit my ear off.”
“But then gave you a juniper berry to take the pain away,” Runningnose reminded her, but no cat seemed to be listening.
“She acts like the whole Clan is a nuisance,” Cinderfur sniffed.
Newtspeck stepped forward with a furious hiss. “Are you seriously suggesting that Yellowfang would kill our own kits so she wouldn’t have to treat their injuries later on?”
There was a deafening silence as Yellowfang waited for her Clanmates to realize that Newtspeck was speaking sense. It was broken by a wail from Brightflower, who had just entered the camp. Russetfur and Frogtail followed, each carrying a pitiful broken scrap of fur.
Brightflower plunged at Yellowfang with a snarl. “Did you kill my kits?”
Yellowfang was frozen to the spot with horror. Before she could react, Runningnose leaped in front of her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Brightflower!” he yowled.
Brokenstar held up his tail for silence. “We will never know what happened tonight,” he meowed, his voice cracking with sorrow. “All we know is that two young kits, two promising warriors, are dead, and that Yellowfang was with them. Yellowfang, as our medicine cat, there must have been something you could have done.”
“I tried, but—” Yellowfang began to protest.
Brokenstar ignored her. “Russetfur,” he continued, “is there any evidence that she treated their wounds?”
Reluctantly Russetfur shook her head. “No, Brokenstar.”
“They were dead when I found them!” Yellowfang exclaimed. Her head was whirling. She couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, that any cat would take these crazy accusations seriously.
“Frogtail, were their bodies cold?” Brokenstar went on.
Frogtail ducked his head. “Well … no.”
Yowls of shock and hatred rose from the Clan. Rowanberry and Nutwhisker both pushed through the crowd to stand beside Yellowfang, along with Runningnose and Newtspeck, but their protests went unheard. Yellowfang knew that there was too much suspicion, too much grief over these latest deaths to expect a rational response from her Clanmates.
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Brokenstar turned to face her. “Yellowfang, you cannot stay here. For your own safety, you must leave.”
“You mean, j-join the elders?” Yellowfang stammered. I could be at peace there, and still help my Clanmates if they came to me.
“No.” Brokenstar curled his lip, showing a hint of sharp yellow teeth. “I cannot protect you within this territory after what has happened. Your Clanmates are too angry over these deaths. You have to understand that I don’t want to do this, but I have no choice. I must banish you from ShadowClan.”
At his words everything became clear to Yellowfang, clear as spring water gurgling from a rock. She had threatened to speak with StarClan about what Brokenstar was doing, get him stripped of his leadership and his nine lives. And this was his way of making sure that never happened. She had made herself a problem—and he was solving it.
Yellowfang took a deep breath. Brokenstar had scared this Clan into silence for too long. Fury overwhelmed her fear. If she held her tongue any longer she betrayed all her Clanmates, including the memory of the dead kits. “This is exactly what you wanted!” she hissed. “You couldn’t have known that those kits would die, but this is your perfect opportunity to get rid of me! I am the ShadowClan medicine cat! This is where I belong!”
Blackfoot stepped forward, his voice weighty and regretful. “Not anymore, Yellowfang. Come, I’ll escort you to the border.”
He reached out his tail to rest it on her shoulder, but Yellowfang batted it away. “Get off me!” she snapped. “I’ll find my own way!”
Still dazed, she stumbled toward the entrance; her Clanmates parted to let her go.
“I’m so sorry!” Runningnose gasped, bounding alongside her. “I’ll prove it was a fox! You’ll be back soon! Come to the next half-moon Gathering!”
Yellowfang stopped at the entrance and looked at him. “Runningnose,” she meowed, “you have been a dear and loyal friend, but I cannot stay here. Not as long as Brokenstar rules. This is not the ShadowClan I pledged to serve.” Glancing at the cats clustered around the Clanrock, she added, “They are lucky to have you. May StarClan light your path, always.”
“But, Yellowfang—” Runningnose wailed.
Yellowfang couldn’t listen to him anymore. Turning, she plunged through the brambles and staggered out of the camp.
CHAPTER 40
Half-mad with grief and fury, Yellowfang stumbled across the territory, howling her rage to the stars. Finding herself at the edge of the marshes, she turned her paw steps away from the elders’ den.
I can’t unleash this disaster on them. They’ll find out soon enough.
At last the entrance to the tunnel that led to Fourtrees loomed up in front of Yellowfang. Forcing her paws to carry her forward, she padded into the echoing darkness. Water dripped around her, sounding unnaturally loud, and her paws slipped on the slimy tunnel floor.
After what seemed like seasons, Yellowfang spotted a pale gap in front of her and clambered out of the tunnel to see that dawn light was seeping into the sky. Her limbs heavy with exhaustion, she staggered across the last few fox-lengths of ShadowClan territory, and half scrambled, half fell into the hollow where she came to rest in the shelter of the spiky branches of a holly bush.
Yellowfang lay in the undergrowth while the morning light strengthened into a chilly, gray day. Soon a thin rain began to fall, but Yellowfang had no energy to find better shelter. She tried to sleep, but the heavy branches of the four great oaks loomed over her, rustling in a threatening way that sounded more like thunder. Yellowfang stayed where she was, too stunned to think about moving or eating, the harsh words of her Clanmates echoing over and over again in her mind. StarClan, can you see me? Do you know what Brokenstar has done now? There was no reply, no sign that her ancestors had even heard. If Yellowfang had felt alone before, that was nothing compared to her solitude now.
Eventually the dead holly leaves underneath her began to prickle through her ungroomed pelt, and she hauled herself to her paws. Night had fallen again, with barely a hint of starlight to pick out the four giant oaks. Not that it mattered to Yellowfang. If StarClan had given up on her, Fourtrees meant nothing except a place where too many cats came to crow about hollow victories every full moon. She started walking, not because she had anywhere to go, but because she was tired of staying still. Her belly growled but she felt no hunger. Maybe she would eat again one day; maybe not. She couldn’t be bothered to care.
She thought of Marigoldkit and Mintkit, cold and still in the shadows. She hoped they were in StarClan now, playing with her daughters, being cared for by Silverflame. They were better off there than in ShadowClan, where Brokenstar seemed to delight in sending cats to die before they were old enough to catch their own prey. But that didn’t stop Yellowfang’s dreadful feelings of guilt that she hadn’t been able to help them.
Oh Marigoldkit, Mintkit, I’m so sorry you had to die alone and scared. I would have saved you if I could, I promise.
Yellowfang stumbled up the side of the hollow and through a line of ferns that caught in her tangled pelt. She was dimly aware of scent markers—ThunderClan’s, she thought—but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was a medicine cat; she could go wherever she wanted. Or if she wasn’t a medicine cat, she would be chased off like a rogue, and be hungry and lost somewhere else. It didn’t matter.
Her legs started to tremble with tiredness, even though she had barely traveled out of sight of Fourtrees. She pushed her way into a clump of ferns and lay down beneath the arching green fronds. The horror of being exiled, her grief for the kits, and her exhaustion sapped her strength so that she couldn’t block her senses anymore. Her body convulsed as she felt the pain of her Clanmates’ wounds far away, the agony of a vixen giving birth somewhere nearby, the flash of fear and anguish as a mouse fell prey to a ThunderClan warrior’s paws. The suffering of every creature in the forest flooded through her limbs and assailed her heart.
At last, worn out, she slept.
Yellowfang was never sure how many sunrises she saw from under the ferns, drifting in and out of consciousness. She knew that she ought to hunt, to groom herself, and to find shelter as far as possible from these StarClan-cursed Clans, but for a long time she couldn’t rouse herself to do anything.
Eventually she became aware of sunlight filtering through the ferns, warming her pelt, reminding her of times when she had been happy in her home among the pine trees. A slow-burning anger began to replace her grief. My Clan banished me, and I have done nothing wrong! I will not give in!
A trickle of strength returned to her limbs. She could scent water, and hear the gurgling of a nearby stream. I need to drink, hunt, and get off ThunderClan territory.
But as she forced herself to her paws, she heard a faint growl from the direction of the stream. Peering out from among the ferns, she spotted a young cat with a flame-colored coat heading straight for her in the hunter’s crouch, as if he was stalking prey. Yellowfang realized that the wind must have carried her scent straight toward him.
Fox dung! A ThunderClan cat would have to turn up just now. He’s bound to stop me if I try to escape. Yellowfang unsheathed her claws, sinking them into the soft forest floor. I’ll have to fight my way out.
Yellowfang eased herself from the ferns and crept into the shelter of a clump of bushes. Now the breeze worked to her advantage, and she caught the reek of ThunderClan. The young cat paused, glancing around him with a puzzled expression. He sniffed the air again, as if he couldn’t work out what had happened to the scent.
Prey doesn’t keep still, mouse-brain!
Letting out a snarl, Yellowfang burst out of the bushes and slammed into the orange tom, knocking him sideways. He let out a screech of shock. Yellowfang felt a savage delight as her paws clamped down on his shoulders and her jaws closed on the back of his neck.
“Murr-oww!” the young cat grunted. For a heartbeat he struggled to free himself, then suddenly relaxed his muscles with a howl of alarm and went limp.
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br /> Still pinning him down with her paws, Yellowfang opened her jaws and let out a yowl of triumph. “Ah, a puny apprentice!” she hissed. “Easy prey for Yellowfang.”
She bit down once more on the ThunderClan cat’s neck, but at the same moment he surged upward, exploding with all the strength of a powerful young body. Yellowfang let out a snarl of surprise as she was thrown clear, tumbling back into a gorse bush.
The tom steadied himself on his paws and gave his pelt a shake. “Not such easy prey, huh?” he meowed.
Yellowfang ripped herself free from the prickly branches, hissing curses at the thorns. “Not bad, young apprentice!” she spat back. “But you’ll need to do a lot better!”
The young cat puffed out his chest. “You’re in ThunderClan’s hunting ground. Move on!”
“Who’s going to make me?” Yellowfang curled her lip. “I will hunt. Then I will leave. Or maybe I’ll just stay a while....”
“Enough talk,” the young cat flashed back at her.
Yellowfang sensed a change in him. She could tell that he was eager to fight, to defend his territory and protect his Clan. For an apprentice, he has courage, she thought with the first flicker of respect. I’ll need to use a little cunning here....
Dipping her head, breaking eye contact with the young tom, she began to back off. “No need to be hasty now,” she purred in a silky tone.
The apprentice wasn’t deceived. He let out a furious growl and leaped forward. Yellowfang sprang forward to meet him, digging her claws into his shoulders, and they rolled over together in a whirl of claws and teeth. Breaking free, Yellowfang reared up on her hind legs and lunged at the young tom’s head. To her frustration, he jerked away just in time and her teeth closed on empty air a mouse-length from his ear.
Before Yellowfang could lash out again, the apprentice swiped at her with one paw, dealing her a hard blow over her ear. Stunned, she dropped to all fours, shaking her head to clear it. As she tried to recover, her opponent flung himself forward and clamped his jaws tight on her back leg.
Yellowfang screeched, whipping around to snap at the young tom’s tail. Satisfaction flooded through her as her teeth connected.