by Erin Hunter
Bluestar ignored Tigerclaw and looked instead at Yellowfang. Suddenly she looked surprised. “Well, well, Firepaw! It seems you have captured us a ShadowClan cat. And one I know well. You are ShadowClan’s medicine cat, aren’t you?” she meowed to Yellowfang. “What are you doing so far into ThunderClan territory?”
“I was the ShadowClan medicine cat. Now I choose to travel alone,” hissed Yellowfang.
Firepaw listened, astonished. Had he heard right? Yellowfang was a ShadowClan warrior? Her filthy condition must have masked her territorial scent. He might have enjoyed tackling her more if he’d known.
“Yellowfang!” Tigerclaw meowed mockingly. “It looks like you have fallen on hard times if you can be beaten by an apprentice!”
Now Darkstripe spoke. “This old cat is no use to us. Let’s kill her now. As for this kittypet, he has broken the warrior code by feeding an enemy warrior. He should be punished.”
“Keep your claws in, Darkstripe,” Bluestar purred calmly. “All the Clans speak of Yellowfang’s bravery and wisdom. It may help us to hear what she has to say. Come; we’ll take her back to camp. Then we’ll decide what to do with her—and with Firepaw. Can you walk?” she asked Yellowfang. “Or do you need help?”
“I’ve still got three good legs,” the grizzled she-cat snapped back, limping forward.
Firepaw saw that Yellowfang’s eyes were glazed with pain, but she seemed determined not to show any weakness. He noticed a look of respect flicker across Bluestar’s face before the ThunderClan leader turned and slowly led the way through the trees. The other warriors took up positions on either side of Yellowfang, and the patrol moved off, carefully keeping pace with their lame prisoner.
Firepaw and Graypaw fell in step together at the back of the group.
“Have you heard of Yellowfang?” Firepaw hissed to Graypaw.
“A bit. Apparently she was a warrior before she became a medicine cat, which is unusual. I can’t imagine her as a loner, though. She has lived her whole life in ShadowClan.”
“What’s a loner?”
Graypaw glanced at him. “A loner is a cat that isn’t part of a Clan or cared for by Twolegs. Tigerclaw says they are untrustworthy and selfish. They often live around Twoleg dwellings, but belong to no one and catch their own food.”
“I might end up a loner once Bluestar has finished with me,” Firepaw mewed.
“Bluestar is very fair,” Graypaw reassured him. “She won’t throw you out. She certainly seems pleased to have such an important ShadowClan cat as a prisoner. I’m sure she’s not going to make a fuss about your feeding the poor old mange-bag.”
“But they keep moaning about prey being scarce! Oh, why did I eat that rabbit?” Firepaw felt shame burn through his fur.
“Well, yeah.” Graypaw nudged his friend. “That was mouse-brained. You really broke the warrior code there, but no cat is perfect!”
Firepaw didn’t answer but trekked onward with a heavy heart. This was not the way he had hoped his first solo task would end.
As the patrol passed the sentries who guarded the camp entrance, the rest of ThunderClan came running to welcome their warriors home.
Queens, kits, and elders crowded on either side. They peered curiously at Yellowfang as she was led into the camp. Some of the elders recognized the old she-cat. Word spread quickly through the Clan that this was ShadowClan’s medicine cat, and a steady jeering hum rose up around them.
Yellowfang seemed deaf to the taunts. Firepaw couldn’t help admiring the way she limped with dignity through the corridor of stares and insults. He knew she was in a great deal of pain, and hungry in spite of the rabbit he had caught for her.
When the patrol reached the Highrock, Bluestar nodded toward the dusty ground in front of it. Yellowfang followed the ThunderClan leader’s silent command, sinking gratefully onto the earth. Still ignoring the hostile stares around her, she began licking her wounded leg.
Firepaw noticed Spottedleaf emerge from her corner. She must have scented the presence of an injured cat in the camp. He watched the crowd part to let the young tortoiseshell through.
Yellowfang glared at Spottedleaf and hissed, “I know how to take care of my own wounds. I don’t need your help.”
Spottedleaf said nothing but nodded respectfully and stepped back.
Some of the cats had been out hunting, and fresh-kill was brought for the returning warriors to eat. They each took some food and carried it away to the nettle patch to eat it. Then the other Clan cats crowded forward to take their own share.
Firepaw paced hungrily around the clearing and watched as the cats crouched in their usual groups, chewing and gulping. He longed for a morsel, but didn’t dare to take anything from the pile. He had broken the warrior code. He guessed that this meant he was forbidden his share in the fresh-kill.
He paused beside the Highrock where Bluestar was sharing words with Tigerclaw. Uncertain, Firepaw looked to his leader for a signal that he was allowed to eat. But the gray cat and her senior warrior were busy murmuring at one another in low tones. Firepaw wondered if they were talking about him. Desperate to know his fate, he strained his ears to hear what they were saying.
Tigerclaw’s yowl sounded impatient. “It’s just too dangerous to bring an enemy warrior into the heart of ThunderClan! Now that she knows the camp, even the youngest ShadowClan kit will hear of it. We will have to move.”
“Calm down, Tigerclaw,” Bluestar purred. “Why should we move? Yellowfang says that she is traveling alone now. There is no reason for ShadowClan to hear of it.”
“Do you really believe that? What on earth was that foolish kittypet thinking of?” Tigerclaw spat.
“But think for a moment, Tigerclaw,” mewed Bluestar. “Why would the ShadowClan medicine cat choose to leave her Clan? You seem to be afraid that Yellowfang will share our Clan secrets with ShadowClan, but have you thought about how many ShadowClan secrets she might share with us?”
Firepaw could see by the way Tigerclaw’s fur began to flatten that Bluestar’s words made sense. The warrior nodded briefly, and then stalked off to take his share of the fresh-kill.
Bluestar remained where she was. She looked out across the clearing, where some of the younger kits were fighting and tumbling playfully in the dust. Then she stood up and began to walk toward Firepaw. His heart lurched. What was she going to say to him?
But Bluestar walked straight past him. She did not even glance at him; her eyes were clouded with unknown distant thoughts. “Frostfur!” she called out as she approached the nursery.
A pure white cat with dark blue eyes slipped out of the brambles. Inside, the noise of mewling grew louder.
“Hush, kits,” purred the white cat reassuringly. “I won’t be long.” Then she turned to her leader. “Yes, Bluestar? What is it?”
“One of our apprentices has seen a fox in the area. Warn the other queens to guard the nursery carefully. And make sure all kits less than six moons stay inside the camp until our warriors have driven it away.”
Frostfur nodded. “I will pass on the warning, Bluestar. Thank you.” Then she turned and squeezed back into the nursery to quiet the crying kits.
At last Bluestar strode over to the pile of fresh-kill and took her share. A plump wood pigeon had been left for her there. Firepaw looked on longingly as she carried it away to eat with the senior warriors.
Finally his hunger drove him forward. Graypaw was with Ravenpaw, wolfing down a small finch beside the tree stump. He saw Firepaw approach the pile and flicked his head encouragingly. Firepaw bent his neck, ready to take a small wood mouse in his teeth.
“Not for you,” Tigerclaw growled, striding up behind him and pawing the mouse away. “You didn’t bring back any prey. The elders will eat your share. Take it to them.”
Firepaw looked over to Bluestar.
She nodded shortly. “Do as he says.”
Obediently, Firepaw picked up the mouse and carried it across to Smallear. The delicious smell of it wafted up
Firepaw’s nose. He wanted nothing more than to crunch it up with his strong teeth. He could almost feel its life energy flooding his young body.
With great self-control, he laid the prey down in front of the gray tom and then backed away politely. He expected no thanks and was offered none.
Now he was glad that he had gobbled up the remains of the rabbit he had caught for Yellowfang. There would be nothing else for him to eat until he went out hunting again tomorrow.
Firepaw wandered over to Graypaw. His friend had eaten his fill and lay with Ravenpaw outside the apprentices’ den. He was stretched out on his side, rhythmically washing a foreleg.
Graypaw saw Firepaw approach, and paused in his licking. “Has Bluestar mentioned your punishment yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Firepaw replied gloomily.
Graypaw narrowed his eyes sympathetically and said nothing.
Bluestar’s call sounded across the clearing. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join together for a meeting of our Clan.”
Most of the warriors had finished eating and, like Graypaw, were busy grooming themselves. They lifted themselves gracefully to their paws and walked over to the Highrock, where Bluestar waited to speak.
“Come on,” mewed Graypaw. He leaped up. Ravenpaw and Firepaw followed him as he scampered over and nudged his way forward into a good position.
“I’m sure you have all heard about the prisoner we brought back with us today,” Bluestar began. “But there is something else you need to know.” She glanced down at the raddled she-cat who lay very still beside the Highrock. “Can you hear me from there?” she asked.
“I may be old, but I’m not deaf yet!” Yellowfang spat in reply.
Bluestar ignored the prisoner’s hostile tone and continued. “I’m afraid I have some very grave news. Today I traveled with a patrol into WindClan territory. The air was filled with the scent of ShadowClan. Almost every tree had been sprayed by ShadowClan warriors. And we met no WindClan cats even though we journeyed deep into their heartland.”
Her words were met with silence. Firepaw saw confusion in the faces of the Clan cats.
“Do you mean ShadowClan has chased them out?” called Smallear hesitantly.
“We can’t be sure,” Bluestar meowed. “Certainly the scent of ShadowClan was everywhere. We found blood, too, and fur. There must have been a battle, though we found no bodies from either Clan.”
A shocked yowl rose from the crowd in a single voice. Firepaw felt the cats around him stiffen with shock and fury. Never before had one Clan driven another from its hunting grounds.
“How can WindClan have been driven out?” One-eye croaked hoarsely. “ShadowClan is fierce, but WindClan is many. They have lived in the uplands for generations. Why have they been chased out now?” She shook her head anxiously, her whiskers trembling.
“I don’t know the answers to any of your questions,” meowed Bluestar. “It is well known that ShadowClan has recently appointed a new leader, following the death of Raggedstar. Their new leader, Brokenstar, gave no hint of any threat when we met him at the last Gathering.”
“Perhaps Yellowfang has answers?” snarled Darkstripe. “After all, she is of ShadowClan!”
“I am no traitor! Nothing would make me share the secrets of ShadowClan with a brute like you!” growled Yellowfang, glaring aggressively at Darkstripe. The ThunderClan warrior moved forward, ears flat, eyes closed to slits, ready for a fight.
“Stop!” yowled Bluestar.
Darkstripe immediately halted in his tracks, even though Yellowfang goaded him on with blazing eyes and a ferocious hiss.
“That’s enough!” Bluestar growled. “This situation is too serious for us to be fighting among ourselves. ThunderClan must prepare itself. From this moonrise onward, warriors will travel in larger groups. Other Clan members will remain close to the camp. Patrols will travel the boundary edges more frequently, and all the kits must stay in the nursery.”
The cats below her nodded in agreement.
Bluestar continued. “Our need for warriors is our greatest obstacle. We shall get around this by speeding up the training of our apprentices. They need to be ready even sooner to fight for our Clan.”
Firepaw saw Dustpaw and Sandpaw exchange a thrilled glance. Graypaw was gazing up at Bluestar, his eyes wide with excitement. Ravenpaw just shuffled his paws anxiously. The black apprentice’s wide eyes showed worry rather than excitement.
Bluestar went on. “One young cat has been sharing mentors with Graypaw and Ravenpaw. By teaching him, I shall speed up the training of all three apprentices.” She paused and looked down at her Clan. “I shall take on Firepaw as my own apprentice.”
Firepaw opened his eyes wide in amazement. Bluestar was to be his mentor?
Beside him, Graypaw gasped, unable to hide his surprise. “What an honor! It’s been moons since Bluestar had an apprentice. Usually she trains only the kits of deputies!”
Then a familiar voice rose from the front of the crowd. It was Tigerclaw. “So Firepaw is to be rewarded, not punished, for feeding an enemy warrior when he should have been feeding his own Clan?”
“Firepaw is my apprentice now. I will deal with him,” answered Bluestar. She stared into Tigerclaw’s fierce eyes for a moment before lifting her head to address the whole Clan once more. “Yellowfang will be allowed to stay here until she has recovered her strength. We are warriors, not savages. She is to be treated with respect and courtesy.”
“But the Clan cannot support Yellowfang,” Darkstripe protested. “We have too many mouths to feed already.”
“Yeah!” Graypaw whispered into Firepaw’s ear. “And some of them are bigger than others!”
“I don’t need anyone to care for me!” spat Yellowfang. “And I’ll split open anyone who tries!”
“Friendly, isn’t she?” Graypaw murmured.
Firepaw flicked the tip of his tail in silent agreement. There were muffled meows from the other warriors as they grudgingly recognized the enemy warrior’s fighting spirit.
Bluestar ignored the murmuring. “We shall kill two prey with one blow, as it were. Firepaw, as punishment for breaking the warrior code, it will be your responsibility to care for Yellowfang. You will hunt for her and tend her wounds. You will fetch fresh bedding and clear away her dirt.”
“Yes, Bluestar,” mewed Firepaw, his head bowed in submission. Clear away her dirt! he thought to himself. Ugh!
Mocking yowls came from Dustpaw and Sandpaw. “Good idea!” hissed Dustpaw. “Firepaw had better be good at cracking fleas!”
“And hunting!” added Sandpaw. “That sack of bones is going to need feeding up!”
“Enough!” Bluestar interrupted them. “I hope Firepaw will find no shame in caring for Yellowfang. She is a healer, and she is his elder. For those reasons alone he should respect her!” She shot a sharp glance at Sandpaw and Dustpaw. “And there is no humiliation in caring for another cat when she is unable to take care of herself. The meeting is over. I would like to speak to my senior warriors alone now.” With that, she jumped down from the Highrock and marched toward her den.
Lionheart followed her. The other Clan cats began to move away from the Highrock. One or two congratulated Firepaw on being chosen as Bluestar’s apprentice; others mockingly wished him luck looking after Yellowfang. Firepaw felt so dazed by Bluestar’s announcement that he just nodded blankly.
Longtail padded up to him. The vee-shaped nick that Firepaw had cut into the tip of his ear still showed. The young warrior drew back his whiskers into an ugly snarl. “Well, I hope you’ll think twice about bringing strays back into the camp next time,” he sneered. “Like I said, outsiders always bring trouble.”
CHAPTER 9
“I’d go and see to Yellowfang, if I were you,” whispered Graypaw, as Longtail strode away. “She’s doesn’t look very happy.”
Firepaw glanced over at the old she-cat. She was still lying beside the Highrock. Graypaw was right; she was glaring at
him.
“Well, here goes,” he mewed. “Wish me luck!”
“You’ll need the whole of StarClan on your side for this one,” answered Graypaw. “Call out if you need a hand. If she looks like she’s going to get you, I’ll sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit.”
Firepaw purred with amusement and trotted off toward Yellowfang. His cheerfulness quickly evaporated as he neared the injured queen.
The old cat was clearly in a terrible mood. She hissed a warning and showed her teeth. “Stop right there, kittypet!”
Firepaw sighed. It seemed he was in for a fight. He was still hungry and beginning to feel tired. He longed to curl up in his nest for an afternoon nap. The last thing he wanted was to argue with this pitiful clump of fur and teeth. “You can call me what you like,” he mewed wearily. “I’m just following Bluestar’s orders.”
“You are a kittypet, though, aren’t you?” Yellowfang wheezed.
She’s tired too, Firepaw thought. There was less fire in her voice, although her spite was as strong as ever.
“I used to live with Twolegs when I was a kitten,” Firepaw replied calmly.
“Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet?”
“Yes, they were.” Firepaw looked down at the ground, feeling resentment burn inside him. It was bad enough that members of his own Clan still viewed him as an outsider. He certainly didn’t have to answer to this foul-tempered prisoner.
Yellowfang seemed to take his silence as an invitation to go on. “Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a lowborn cat like you!”
Firepaw’s patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d still feel humiliated if I were warrior-born. You’d feel ashamed whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground.” He lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!”
Yellowfang stared at him, her orange eyes very wide.