Warriors Super Edition: Yellowfang’s Secret (16 page)

“Yellowpaw, from this time on, you
shall be known as Yellowfang. StarClan honors your courage and your intelligence, and we welcome you as a warrior of ShadowClan.”

Trying to keep her poise, even though she was bursting with excitement, Yellowfang bent her head and felt Cedarstar rest his muzzle on it. She licked her leader’s shoulder and took a pace back.

“Yellowfang! Nutwhisker! Rowanberry!” ShadowClan yowled the names of the newly made warriors.

Beside Yellowfang, her brother and sister looked as thrilled as she felt, their eyes shining and their tails straight up in the air.

“Warriors at last!” Nutwhisker chirped. “Sometimes I thought we’d never make it!”

“We’re going to be the
best
warriors ShadowClan has ever seen,” Rowanberry added.

A warm, prey-laden breeze drifted across the camp, and the hot sun of greenleaf shone down, warming Yellowfang’s pelt. Not a cloud could be seen in the blue sky.
What else could I wish for?
Yellowfang asked herself.
This is a perfect day
.

At the front of the cats, Brightflower and Brackenfoot were standing close together, their tails entwined as they beamed proudly at the new warriors. Deerleap gave Yellowfang a nod of warm approval.

Nearby, Foxpaw and Wolfpaw had watched the ceremony with undisguised envy. “We’ll be warriors soon,” Foxpaw announced as the yowls of greeting died away.

Yellowfang ignored her. “Warrior or not, she’ll still be a pain in the tail,” she murmured to Rowanberry, who gave a fervent nod of agreement.

Scorchwind, who had received his warrior name a moon before, shouldered his way through the crowd and gave all three new warriors a condescending nod. “Congratulations,” he meowed. “If you need any tips on how warriors behave, just ask.”

“We’ll do that,” Yellowfang responded. “I’m sure the
senior
warriors will give us loads of advice.”

Scorchwind twitched his tail and padded to where his brother, Raggedpelt, was standing. Yellowfang felt a familiar stab of disappointment that Raggedpelt wasn’t even looking at her.
He’s ashamed because I was there when his father rejected him. I wish I could tell him that all I feel is anger toward that stupid kittypet! Hal ought to be proud to have a warrior for his son!

But Yellowfang couldn’t think of a way to start that conversation with Raggedpelt. Everything she wanted to tell him would have to remain unsaid.

“Yellowfang?”

Starting at the sound of Sagewhisker’s voice behind her, Yellowfang spun around.

“Congratulations,” the medicine cat meowed. “I hear your hunting assessment was especially good.”

Yellowfang dipped her head. Sagewhisker still wasn’t her favorite cat, but she knew that she had to get past Silverflame’s death and acknowledge Sagewhisker’s status within the Clan.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “I guess I was lucky.”

“Did you dream of serving your Clan as a warrior when you went to the Moonstone with Deerleap?” the medicine cat probed unexpectedly.

For a heartbeat, Yellowfang didn’t know what to say. There was no way she was going to tell Sagewhisker what had happened. “I … uh … don’t really remember what the dream was,” she stammered.

“Really?” Sagewhisker’s gaze was gentle but insistent. “It’s a significant moment, your first Moonstone dream.”

Why can’t she leave it alone?
“If I don’t remember, it can’t be that important.” Turning her back on Sagewhisker, Yellowfang joined her littermates beside the fresh-kill pile, where the Clan was getting ready to celebrate the newly made warriors with a feast.

But Yellowfang couldn’t resist glancing back over her shoulder. Sagewhisker was still regarding her with that persistent look, and Yellowfang would have given all her share of the fresh-kill to know what she was thinking.

Yellowfang padded silently across the thick layer of pine needles as she followed Hollyflower, Newtspeck, and Toadskip. The border patrol had left the edge of the Thunderpath and struck out toward the Twolegplace; Yellowfang could make out the walls several fox-lengths away through the trees. Her pads tingled with the unwelcome memory of the night she and Raggedpelt had visited the Twolegplace in search of Raggedpelt’s father.
I don’t want to go near the place ever again!

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 fear. 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.