Эрин Хантер - Yellowfang’s Secret

Yellowfang knew that there was no point in trying to argue with Brokenstar any further. Turning to leave, she halted at the sound of a squeal from the far side of the clearing. She spun around to see Brownkit and Wetkit backing away from Mosspaw. The tiny apprentice was lying ominously still.

“We were trying that double-attack trick, like you said,” Brownkit squeaked. “Did we do it right?”

A horrible suspicion rose to choke Yellowfang as she bounded over to Mosspaw. His head was wrenched at an awkward angle and his eyes were open but glazed.

Great StarClan, he’s dead!

Striving to keep calm, Yellowfang stepped between the kits and Mosspaw’s body. “Go straight back to the camp,” she ordered them. “Go on, all of you!”

The five kits gave one another bewildered looks, then scampered obediently away. “I guess Mosspaw must be hurt real bad!” Volekit exclaimed as they left.

Brokenstar strode across and confronted Yellowfang. “What’s going on? Why have you stopped the training?”

Yellowfang was so horrified it was hard for her to keep all her paws on the ground and not leap at her Clan leader, clawing at his eyes. “Look what happened!” she yowled.

Brokenstar gazed down at the tiny limp body. “I should have taught them better,” he mewed. “They must have got the angle wrong.”

“That’s not the point!” Yellowfang snarled. “An apprentice is dead!”

Brokenstar bowed his head. “You’re right, it’s terrible.” There was genuine regret in his voice. “The Clan needs apprentices more than ever.”

Her heart wailing with grief, Yellowfang picked up Mosspaw’s body by his scruff and carried him back to the camp. He wasn’t even four moons old!

In their den, Runningnose looked startled and shocked as Yellowfang laid Mosspaw’s body down and began to smooth his ruffled fur. “What in the name of Starclan—” he began.

Yellowfang cut off his question. “Get Featherstorm,” she ordered.

Runningnose hurried off at once and returned a few heartbeats later with Mosspaw’s mother. For a moment Featherstorm stood rigid, staring at the lifeless body of her son.

“I’m so sorry,” Yellowfang mewed.

Featherstorm seemed not to have heard her. She flung her head back and let out an anguished shriek. “No! No!”

“I’ll get her some thyme leaves for the shock,” Runningnose murmured, slipping past Yellowfang.

Featherstorm turned to Yellowfang, her eyes full of grief and confusion. “He was only training,” she meowed, her voice shaking. “How could this have happened?”

Yellowfang was determined that the kits shouldn’t be blamed for killing a Clanmate. “It was a terrible accident,” she replied.

As Featherstorm crouched beside her son, pushing her nose into his fur, Yellowfang heard Brokenstar’s voice raised in a summons to the Clan. “What now?” she growled as she headed out into the clearing.

Brokenstar stood once more upon the Clanrock. The rest of the Clan was gathering, and Yellowfang couldn’t help glancing toward the elders’ den, waiting for them to emerge. It feels so strange, that they aren’t here!

“I have some very sad news,” Brokenstar announced. “Mosspaw is dead.”

Brownkit and Wetkit let out a shriek, while murmurs of shock and disbelief rose from the rest of the Clan.

“It was just an accident,” Brokenstar went on. “You kits were all very brave. To reward you, I’m going to make you all apprentices.”

The kits’ shock changed to squeals of excitement. Yellowfang closed her eyes. Has Brokenstar learned nothing?

“Volepaw, you will be my apprentice,” Brokenstar mewed briskly, not bothering to speak the usual words of the apprentice ceremony. “Clawface, I know I promised him to you, but you can have Littlepaw instead. I owe it to Mosspaw to train his brother in his place. Blackfoot, you take Dawnpaw. Boulder, you will have Wetpaw, and Stumpytail will have Brownpaw.”

The crowd of cats shifted as four of the kits scampered up to their new mentors to touch noses with them. Only Volepaw remained at the foot of the Clanrock, gazing up at Brokenstar with shining eyes.

“I am proud of my Clan,” Brokenstar declared. “We have five new apprentices! Victory will be ours in every battle!” Glancing around, he asked, “Where is Featherstorm?”

“In my den,” Yellowfang replied.

“Fetch her.”

Before Yellowfang could move, Featherstorm emerged from the medicine cats’ den. Her head was bowed and her tail trailed in the dust.

“ShadowClan owes you a great debt for mothering so many warriors,” Brokenstar told her. “I think it would be best if you join the elders now, where you can rest and be proud.”

For a heartbeat Featherstorm did not move, her eyes puzzled as she gazed at Brokenstar. Yellowfang wondered if she expected the Clan leader to acknowledge that they were kin, that she was his father’s mother. Then she nodded without saying a word. Yellowfang stared after her in dismay as she stumbled across the clearing and vanished into the brambles.

“There’s another cat gone,” Rowanberry murmured worriedly to Clawface. “What is Brokenstar thinking?”

“StarClan knows,” her mate responded with a twitch of his whiskers. “If he’s not careful, there’ll be more of us out there than in camp.”

“Just watch what you say!” Tangleburr hissed beside him. “Don’t go asking for trouble. Brokenstar hears everything!”

The crowd of cats began to break up, and the new mentors led their apprentices out for the tour of the borders. The little cats weren’t as excited as new apprentices usually were because they had already left the camp to practice their battle moves, but they might be more impressed when they realized how far ShadowClan stretched.

As Yellowfang watched them go, she realized that Brightflower had padded up to her side. The she-cat looked excited but apprehensive, her whiskers quivering. “Brackenfoot and I are expecting kits!” she announced.

Yellowfang wished she could be as thrilled as usual at the prospect of new kits for the Clan, but this time all she could do was stare at her mother as a wave of despair washed over her.

“May StarClan help you all,” she whispered.

Brokenstar stood on top of the Great Rock with the bare branches of the oaks at Fourtrees creaking over his head. A cold wind drove shreds of cloud across the sky where the full moon shone fitfully. Blackfoot sat at the foot of the rock, with Russetfur, Stumpytail, Brownpaw, and Brackenfoot huddled together close by. Brightflower hadn’t come to the Gathering this time because her kits were almost ready to be born.

Yellowfang sat with the other medicine cats, though she no longer felt at ease among them. Had StarClan told them in their dreams what was going on in ShadowClan? Her own dreams of StarClan were limited to visions of blood and death, of battles between cats too young to open their eyes. If these were omens, ShadowClan was doomed—and it seemed that she could do nothing to help. Yellowfang listened apprehensively as her Clan leader began his report.

“ShadowClan is stronger than ever,” Brokenstar announced with triumph in his eyes. “We have been challenged on each border, but have won in every battle!” His gaze raked across the cats in the clearing below. “Let all Clans know that we will tolerate no trespassing, no prey-stealing, no dishonor.” He narrowed his eyes, as if he was defying any of the cats to comment. “And we have a new apprentice: Badgerpaw,” he finished.