Yellowfang’s Secret

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.

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.”