Эрин Хантер - Yellowfang’s Secret

Reluctantly Russetfur shook her head. “No, Brokenstar.”

“They were dead when I found them!” Yellowfang exclaimed. Her head was whirling. She couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, that any cat would take these crazy accusations seriously.

“Frogtail, were their bodies cold?” Brokenstar went on.

Frogtail ducked his head. “Well… no.”

Yowls of shock and hatred rose from the Clan. Rowanberry and Nutwhisker both pushed through the crowd to stand beside Yellowfang, along with Runningnose and Newtspeck, but their protests went unheard. Yellowfang knew that there was too much suspicion, too much grief over these latest deaths to expect a rational response from her Clanmates.

Brokenstar turned to face her. “Yellowfang, you cannot stay here. For your own safety, you must leave.”

“You mean, j-join the elders?” Yellowfang stammered. I could be at peace there, and still help my Clanmates if they came to me .

“No.” Brokenstar curled his lip, showing a hint of sharp yellow teeth. “I cannot protect you within this territory after what has happened. Your Clanmates are too angry over these deaths. You have to understand that I don’t want to do this, but I have no choice. I must banish you from ShadowClan.”

At his words everything became clear to Yellowfang, clear as spring water gurgling from a rock. She had threatened to speak with StarClan about what Brokenstar was doing, get him stripped of his leadership and his nine lives. And this was his way of making sure that never happened. She had made herself a problem—and he was solving it.

Yellowfang took a deep breath. Brokenstar had scared this Clan into silence for too long. Fury overwhelmed her fear. If she held her tongue any longer she betrayed all her Clanmates, including the memory of the dead kits. “This is exactly what you wanted!” she hissed. “You couldn’t have known that those kits would die, but this is your perfect opportunity to get rid of me! I am the ShadowClan medicine cat! This is where I belong!”

Blackfoot stepped forward, his voice weighty and regretful. “Not anymore, Yellowfang. Come, I’ll escort you to the border.”

He reached out his tail to rest it on her shoulder, but Yellowfang batted it away. “Get off me!” she snapped. “I’ll find my own way!”

Still dazed, she stumbled toward the entrance; her Clanmates parted to let her go.

“I’m so sorry!” Runningnose gasped, bounding alongside her. “I’ll prove it was a fox! You’ll be back soon! Come to the next half-moon Gathering!”

Yellowfang stopped at the entrance and looked at him. “Runningnose,” she meowed, “you have been a dear and loyal friend, but I cannot stay here. Not as long as Brokenstar rules. This is not the ShadowClan I pledged to serve.” Glancing at the cats clustered around the Clanrock, she added, “They are lucky to have you. May StarClan light your path, always.”

“But, Yellowfang—” Runningnose wailed.

Yellowfang couldn’t listen to him anymore. Turning, she plunged through the brambles and staggered out of the camp.

Half-mad with grief and fury, Yellowfang stumbled across the territory, howling her rage to the stars. Finding herself at the edge of the marshes, she turned her paw steps away from the elders’ den.

I can’t unleash this disaster on them. They’ll find out soon enough .

At last the entrance to the tunnel that led to Fourtrees loomed up in front of Yellowfang. Forcing her paws to carry her forward, she padded into the echoing darkness. Water dripped around her, sounding unnaturally loud, and her paws slipped on the slimy tunnel floor.

After what seemed like seasons, Yellowfang spotted a pale gap in front of her and clambered out of the tunnel to see that dawn light was seeping into the sky. Her limbs heavy with exhaustion, she staggered across the last few fox-lengths of ShadowClan territory, and half scrambled, half fell into the hollow where she came to rest in the shelter of the spiky branches of a holly bush.

Yellowfang lay in the undergrowth while the morning light strengthened into a chilly, gray day. Soon a thin rain began to fall, but Yellowfang had no energy to find better shelter. She tried to sleep, but the heavy branches of the four great oaks loomed over her, rustling in a threatening way that sounded more like thunder. Yellowfang stayed where she was, too stunned to think about moving or eating, the harsh words of her Clanmates echoing over and over again in her mind. StarClan, can you see me? Do you know what Brokenstar has done now? There was no reply, no sign that her ancestors had even heard. If Yellowfang had felt alone before, that was nothing compared to her solitude now.

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!