Into The Wild

Brokenstar yowled again. “We all know that the hard time of leaf-bare, and late newleaf, have left us with little prey in our hunting grounds. But we also know that WindClan, RiverClan, and ThunderClan lost many kits in the freezing weather that came so late this season. ShadowClan did not lose kits. We are hardened to the cold north wind. Our kits are stronger than yours from the moment they are born. And so we find ourselves with many mouths to feed, and too little prey to feed them.”

The crowd, still silent, listened anxiously.

“The needs of ShadowClan are simple. In order to survive, we must increase our hunting territory. That is why I insist that you allow ShadowClan warriors to hunt in your territories.”

A shocked but muted growl rippled through the crowd.

“Share our hunting grounds?” called the outraged voice of Tigerclaw.

“It is unprecedented!” cried a tortoiseshell queen from RiverClan. “The Clans have never shared hunting rights!”

“Should ShadowClan be punished because our kits thrive?” yowled Brokenstar from the Great Rock. “Do you want us to watch our young starve? You must share what you have with us.”

“Must!” spat Smallear furiously from the back of the crowd.

“Must,” repeated Brokenstar. “WindClan failed to understand this. In the end, we were forced to drive them out of their territory.”

Snarls of outrage burst from the crowd, but Brokenstar’s caterwaul rang loud above them: “And, if we have to, we will drive you all from your hunting grounds in order to feed our hungry kits.”

There was instant silence. On the other side of the clearing, Firepaw heard a RiverClan apprentice start to mutter something, but he was quickly hushed by an elder.

Satisfied that he had every cat’s attention, Brokenstar continued. “Each year, the Twolegs spoil more of our territory. At least one Clan must remain strong, if all the Clans are to survive. ShadowClan thrives while you all struggle. And there may come a time when you will need us to protect you.”

“You doubt our strength?” hissed Tigerclaw. His pale eyes glared threateningly at the ShadowClan leader, and his powerful shoulders rippled with tension.

“I do not ask for your answer now.” Brokenstar ignored the warrior’s challenge. “You must each go away and consider my words. But bear this in mind: Would you prefer to share your prey, or be driven out and left homeless and starving?”

Warriors, elders, and apprentices looked at one another in disbelief. In the anxious pause that followed, Crookedstar stepped forward. “I have already agreed to allow ShadowClan some hunting rights in the river that runs through our territory,” he meowed quietly, gazing down on his Clan.

Horror and humiliation rippled through the RiverClan cats at their leader’s words.

“We were not consulted!” cried a grizzled silver tabby.

“I feel that this is best for our Clan. For all the Clans,” Crookedstar explained, his voice heavy with resignation. “There are plenty of fish in the river. It is better to share our prey than to spill blood fighting over it.”

“And what of ThunderClan?” Smallear croaked. “Bluestar? Have you, too, agreed to this outrageous demand?”

Bluestar unwaveringly met the old cat’s gaze. “I have made no agreement with Brokenstar except that I shall discuss his proposal with my Clan after the Gathering.”

“Well, at least that’s something,” muttered Graypaw in Firepaw’s ear. “We’ll show them we’re not as soft as that yellow-bellied RiverClan.”

Brokenstar spoke up again, his rasping voice sounding arrogant and strong after Crookedstar’s surrender. “I also bring news that is important to the safety of your kits. A ShadowClan cat has turned rogue and spurned the warrior code. We chased her out of our camp, but we do not know where she is now. She looks a mangy old creature, but she has a bite like TigerClan.”

Firepaw’s fur bristled. Could Brokenstar possibly be talking about Yellowfang? He pricked up his ears, curious to hear more.

“She is dangerous. I warn you-do not offer shelter to her. And”-Brokenstar paused dramatically-“until she is caught and killed, I urge you to keep a close eye on your kits.”

Firepaw knew from the nervous growl that rumbled in the throats of the ThunderClan cats that they, too, had thought of Yellowfang. The bold she-cat had done nothing to endear herself to her reluctant hosts, and Firepaw guessed it wouldn’t take much to drum up hatred against her-even the words of a despised enemy like Brokenstar would be enough.

The ShadowClan warriors began to push their way out of the throng of cats. Brokenstar leaped down from the rock, and his warriors immediately surrounded him and escorted him away from Fourtrees, back into ShadowClan territory. The remaining ShadowClan cats followed quickly behind, including the undersize tabby Lionheart had questioned earlier. But among the other ShadowClan apprentices, the tabby no longer looked unusually small-they all looked tiny and undernourished, more like kits of three or four moons than full-fledged apprentices.