Эрин Хантер - Yellowfang’s Secret

“Of course,” Russetfur meowed. “Let me know if you want me to search the forest later on.”

Yellowfang hurried out of the camp and picked up the trail of the night patrol. The cloud cover had thickened and the moon was scarcely visible. It was hard going through the trees and undergrowth, and Yellowfang concentrated so as not to lose the scent. Then she heard the bark of a fox from somewhere up ahead, and quickened her pace. I hope it hasn’t found the kits…

Another harsh tang mixed with the traces of the night patrol. Yellowfang’s heart started to pound and she broke into a run, her nostrils flared with the scent of blood. The night patrol had reported no skirmishes on any of the boundaries, yet somewhere a cat was badly hurt. Yellowfang’s fur stood on end as all her instincts pricked with alarm. Something is terribly wrong!

She burst through a line of trees and stumbled to a halt in a small clearing. Panting hard, she gazed around and saw a thin shaft of starlight breaking through the branches. It rested on two tiny heaps of fur, as still as rocks in the cold air. One tortoiseshell, one gray, both ripped apart by the jaws of some cruel creature who couldn’t even be bothered to stay and eat his prey.

Oh, no! StarClan, not even you could be this cruel .

Yellowfang bounded across the clearing to where the little bodies lay, their blood spattering the ferns. She bent over them, desperately checking for signs of life, and opened herself to their pain in the hope that it would prove they were still alive. But she was too distraught to be sure if she could feel the flicker that would tell her there was still hope.

Desperately summoning her medicine cat skills, Yellowfang looked around for anything nearby that she could treat them with or pad their wounds. But the clearing was barren: no sign of a scrap of cobweb or marigold leaf. Clinging to the last traces of hope, Yellowfang curled her body around the kits, licking their still-warm fur.

Come on, little ones! Live!

Crashing paw steps disturbed her, followed by a ghastly wail. Yellowfang looked up to see Brightflower standing on the other side of the clearing, staring in horror. Brokenstar was just behind her.

“What happened?” Brokenstar demanded.

“I found them like this,” Yellowfang replied, her voice shaking. “It must have been a fox!”

Brokenstar sniffed the air. “I don’t smell any fox.”

“It was here!” Yellowfang insisted. “I heard it just before I found them.”

Brightflower padded forward and gazed down at the two tiny shapes. “My babies, my babies!”

Yellowfang stared at Brokenstar. “You need to look for the fox! It could be close by!”

“Yellowfang, I can only pick up your scent,” Brokenstar mewed quietly. “Come back to the camp with me.”

“What about the fox?”

“There is no fox here,” Brokenstar growled. “Come.”

Dazed, Yellowfang rose to her paws. Her fur was sticky with blood and her mouth was full of the taste of death. “I’ll carry one of the kits,” she mewed.

“No,” Brokenstar ordered. “I’ll send warriors to bring them. Brightflower, you wait here.”

Brightflower took Yellowfang’s place and folded her body around her kits. She didn’t look up at Yellowfang or Brokenstar as they left the clearing.

Brokenstar padded beside Yellowfang as they returned to camp. The moon was setting by the time they reached the clearing. The sky was gray with cloud and there was a tang of rain in the air. All the cats were out of their dens, busily searching for the kits. Boulder was the first to notice Yellowfang, and halted, staring at her. Gradually the other cats realized that she had returned and stopped what they were doing, until Yellowfang felt as if the gaze of every cat in the Clan was fixed on her. She could read shock in their eyes, and a flicker of unease joined the grief she felt for Mintkit and Marigoldkit.

“Russetfur. Frogtail.” Brokenstar’s voice cut into the silence, and he beckoned with his tail. “Follow our scent trail, and bring Brightflower and the kits back to the camp.”

He waited until the two warriors had left, then crossed to the foot of the Clanrock, jerking his head for Yellowfang to follow him. “Come closer,” he ordered the Clan, as if he was too distressed to leap onto the rock and summon them formally.

As the Clan gathered, silent and apprehensive, Runningnose bounded across to Yellowfang from the medicine cats’ den. “Are you hurt?” he gasped. “All this blood…”

“It’s not my blood,” Yellowfang choked out, as if telling him would make the terrible truth more real. “It’s… the kits’.”

A stunned murmur rose from the Clan, and Brackenfoot stepped forward, his eyes huge with fear. “Tell me what happened.”

“I found them in a clearing—” Yellowfang began.

Brokenstar cut her off with a lash of his tail. “Yellowfang went to look for the kits after Brightflower told her they were missing,” he announced. “When I found her, she was with the kits, but they were both dead. Yellowfang claimed they had been attacked by a fox.”

“A fox!” Newtspeck exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear. “On our territory? It could kill us all!”

“We have to send out a patrol to track it,” Blackfoot meowed.

More fearful cries came from the Clan, but Brokenstar silenced them with a flick of his tail. “I found no trace of fox anywhere near the kits.”

“Then how did they die?” Stumpytail asked.

“Yes, how?” Deerfoot echoed. “We have to know!”

Brokenstar took a step away from Yellowfang. “Only one cat knows the truth,” he meowed softly.

Brackenfoot stared at Yellowfang in horror. “Did you kill them?” he whispered.

“Of course not!” Yellowfang shrieked. In her worst nightmares she had never imagined that her own father could accuse her of something so terrible. “They were dead when I found them!”

“We have no reason to believe that Yellowfang killed them,” Brokenstar put in. “Why would she?”

“She’s been under a lot of strain recently, with all the battles,” Wolfstep pointed out.

“She said she didn’t want to treat my scratch because it was a waste of herbs!” Dawnpaw added with an indignant flourish of her tail.

“Yes, she hasn’t been herself lately,” Tangleburr meowed. “I asked her about a pain in my belly, and she practically bit my ear off.”

“But then gave you a juniper berry to take the pain away,” Runningnose reminded her, but no cat seemed to be listening.

“She acts like the whole Clan is a nuisance,” Cinderfur sniffed.

Newtspeck stepped forward with a furious hiss. “Are you seriously suggesting that Yellowfang would kill our own kits so she wouldn’t have to treat their injuries later on?”

There was a deafening silence as Yellowfang waited for her Clanmates to realize that Newtspeck was speaking sense. It was broken by a wail from Brightflower, who had just entered the camp. Russetfur and Frogtail followed, each carrying a pitiful broken scrap of fur.

Brightflower plunged at Yellowfang with a snarl. “Did you kill my kits?”

Yellowfang was frozen to the spot with horror. Before she could react, Runningnose leaped in front of her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Brightflower!” he yowled.

Brokenstar held up his tail for silence. “We will never know what happened tonight,” he meowed, his voice cracking with sorrow. “All we know is that two young kits, two promising warriors, are dead, and that Yellowfang was with them. Yellowfang, as our medicine cat, there must have been something you could have done.”

“I tried, but—” Yellowfang began to protest.

Brokenstar ignored her. “Russetfur,” he continued, “is there any evidence that she treated their wounds?”