But sleep wouldn’t come. A sharp pain was stabbing into Yellowfang’s belly, and for a moment she wondered if she’d accidentally eaten crow-food. Then she realized that the pain was different somehow. Oh, not again! This is some other cat’s pain. Get out of my fur!
For a short while Yellowfang tried to ignore the griping in her belly, but it was growing stronger with every heartbeat. Finally she had to admit that she needed to go and see Sagewhisker. Stifling a groan, she blundered out of the den, the pangs stabbing so hard that she was almost bent double. Though she tried to avoid the sleeping bodies of the other warriors, she brushed against Nutwhisker, who raised his head and blinked sleepily at her.
“Are you okay, Yellowfang?”
“I’m fine,” Yellowfang snapped. “It’s just a cramp.”
She shivered as she emerged into the open. An icy breeze was sweeping across the camp, and Yellowfang longed for her cozy bedding and the air inside the den, warm with her Clanmates’ breath. The clearing was deserted; all the cats were either huddled in their dens or out on patrol.
Another stab of pain sent Yellowfang bounding across the clearing. Sagewhisker roused and looked up in surprise as Yellowfang slipped between the stones into her den. “Is something wrong, Yellowfang?” she asked with a yawn.
By now the pain was so bad that it was hard for Yellowfang to reply. “Is there a cat with bellyache in the Clan?” she hissed through gritted teeth.
Sagewhisker twitched her whiskers, fixing Yellowfang with a searching gaze. “What exactly do you feel?”
“Agony! It hurts!”
“I need a bit more detail than that,” Sagewhisker responded calmly.
“It’s … it’s like I swallowed a live rat,” Yellowfang gasped. “And it’s gnawing and clawing me from inside my belly.”
Sagewhisker nodded. “That’s hunger,” she mewed. “I’d guess that you’re picking up Nettlespot’s pain.”
That makes sense, Yellowfang thought. Nettlespot had just given birth to two kits, but one of them had died and the remaining kit was weak. “Nettlespot has always been thin,” she murmured.
“I’m worried about her, and Cloudkit,” Sagewhisker agreed. “This is a bad season for new arrivals.”
“Why doesn’t Nettlespot just ask for more food?” Yellowfang wondered aloud.
“She’s too proud,” Sagewhisker told her. “She’s a bit old to be a mother and she’s determined to prove that she can care for her kit.”
Pride won’t fill her belly, Yellowfang thought. “What can I do to help?” she asked. “I’ll be no use to the Clan with this pain in my belly. I can hardly put one paw in front of another.”
Sagewhisker gave her another close glance, then padded across her den to uncover one of her herb stores. She returned to Yellowfang with a mouthful of withered leaves. Yellowfang recognized the traveling herbs that she had eaten when she journeyed to the Moonstone.
“These will dull the edge of Nettlespot’s hunger,” she meowed, laying the bundle at Yellowfang’s paws. “Meanwhile I’ll ask one of the warriors to bring a piece of fresh-kill just for her.”
Yellowfang looked at the herbs. Evidently Sagewhisker expected her to take them to the nursery for Nettlespot. As if I was her apprentice! But there was no point in arguing, so she picked up the leaves and staggered out of the den.
Inside the nursery, Nettlespot was hunched over her kit, using her tail to draw him closer to her belly. “Cloudkit, you must feed,” she fretted.
The tiny gray scrap of fur squirmed away from her, raising his voice in a piteous mewling. “Not enough milk!”
As Yellowfang drew closer, a new spasm of pain gripped her belly, almost making her gasp and drop the herbs. Stumbling forward, she set them down in front of Nettlespot. “Eat those,” she panted. “Sagewhisker will bring you some fresh-kill to eat later.”
Nettlespot gazed up at her with dull, exhausted eyes. “Thanks, Yellowfang,” she murmured.
But Yellowfang didn’t wait for her thanks. She had already spun around and was bolting from the den, trying to shake the feelings of pain and panic from her fur. This wasn’t just an inconvenience now—it was scary, and exasperating.
How can I be a warrior if I have to bear the pain of all the Clan?
CHAPTER 14
Yellowfang poked her head out of the warriors’ den to see the clearing covered with a thick pelt of snow. The branches of the surrounding trees were heavy with it, and a few white flakes were still drifting down.
“It’s too early in the season to be this cold,” she muttered to herself.
Shivering, she waded through the powdery snow toward the fresh-kill pile, where Stonetooth was organizing the day’s patrols. The older warriors gathered around him were exchanging troubled glances, and meowing to one another in low voices.
Before Yellowfang could join them, she was intercepted by Sagewhisker, who was heading toward the nursery with a few leaves of tansy in her jaws. “These are for Cloudkit,” she informed Yellowfang, mumbling around the mouthful of herbs. “He’s coughing a little.”
Why tell me? “Okay,” Yellowfang mewed. “I’m sure you’ll fix him, Sagewhisker.”
The medicine cat blinked at her, making Yellowfang even more uncomfortable. But all Sagewhisker said was, “Yes, the tansy should soon clear up his cough. And Nettlespot is improving since you took her the herbs the other day.”
Yellowfang ducked her head. “Fine,” she meowed. “Er … gotta go, Sagewhisker. Patrols.” She headed off rapidly, aware of the medicine cat’s gaze following her.
“There you are, Yellowfang,” Stonetooth greeted her as she joined the group of warriors. “Crowtail’s leading a border patrol. You can join him with Hollyflower and Newtspeck.”
“Sure,” Yellowfang responded, brightening up with the prospect of getting out of camp.
“Let’s go.” Crowtail waved her tail and led the way through the thorn tunnel.
Emerging into the forest, Yellowfang could hardly believe how different it looked under the covering of snow. All the humps and hollows in the ground had been smoothed out, and the surface of the snow was crisscrossed by tracks. The shadows had a bluish tinge, and every slight sound—the creak of a branch, the flutter of wings in a tree—seemed magnified in the still air.
“There’s so much white stuff!” Yellowfang murmured to Hollyflower.
Her Clanmate nodded. “It’s been a long time since the last snowfall. I’d almost forgotten what it’s like.”
I was a new apprentice then, Yellowfang thought. So much has happened since!
Every so often snow would shower down from one of the trees; Yellowfang suppressed a mrrow of laughter as Newtspeck had to skip aside to avoid being drenched. Playfully Yellowfang flicked a pawful of snow at Hollyflower; the older she-cat jumped and spun around, her jaws gaping with shock.
“I’m going to get you, Yellowfang!”
Hollyflower scooped up more snow and flung it at Yellowfang. It landed right in her face; she shook her head to get rid of it, spraying snow in all directions.
“Watch out! Snow coming!” she yowled, scuffling up more of the white stuff to throw at Hollyflower.
Crowtail, who had drawn a few paces ahead, halted and glanced back over her shoulder. “Honestly, are you kits?” she demanded. “Grow up. This is a border patrol, or had you forgotten?”
“Sorry, Crowtail,” Hollyflower meowed, dipping her head and looking embarrassed.
“Sorry,” Yellowfang echoed, though she tossed another pawful of snow at Hollyflower’s retreating tail before following.
By the time they reached the Thunderpath, Yellowfang was becoming tired of wading through the snow and getting clots of it tangled in her belly fur. She envied her Clanmates’ sleeker fur and longer legs, which kept their stomachs free.
Crowtail stopped by the two narrow tunnels that burrowed underneath the Thunderpath. “We need to make sure no cats are using these to trespass on ShadowClan’s territory,” she mewed. “With pre
y so scarce, there’s no telling what the other Clans might be up to.”
“Just let them try!” Yellowfang growled, sliding out her claws.
But when they examined the tunnels and the territory around them, there was no trace of enemy scent.
“Pity.” Newtspeck’s lip curled in the beginning of a snarl. “A good scrap with a ThunderClan patrol would warm me up!”
The patrol continued along the Thunderpath, then veered away to skirt the edge of the Twolegplace. As they drew closer to the walls and fences, Yellowfang grew more alert, watching out for kittypets who might recognize her.
Hollyflower ran lightly across the snow and leaped up onto the nearest Twoleg fence. “Look at this!” she called Yellowfang.
Yellowfang glanced back to where Crowtail and Newtspeck were investigating something at the bottom of a tree. Then she bounded up and joined Hollyflower on the fence.
“What do you suppose that is?” Hollyflower asked, pointing with her tail at a humped shape of snow in the Twoleg garden.
Yellowfang shrugged, more concerned with checking the garden for kittypets. “Who knows?”
“It looks a bit like a Twoleg,” Hollyflower went on, sounding puzzled.
Yellowfang gave the shape a closer scrutiny. “It doesn’t have legs,” she pointed out.
“It’s got a head and a body,” Hollyflower countered. “And a Twoleg pelt on its head.”
“It’s a Noleg, then,” Yellowfang mewed impatiently. Honestly, who cares about weird Twoleg stuff?
“I wonder what it’s like, being a kittypet,” Hollyflower went on after a pause. “Do you suppose they can speak Twoleg? Do you think they go up and say, ‘Hey, it’s time for fresh-kill! I would love to have a vole today, and make sure it’s plump’?”
“I doubt it,” Yellowfang returned dryly. “Do you ever see Twolegs chasing voles in the forest?”
“I guess not. Kittypets don’t have to catch their own prey, though. I think that’s really sad.” Hollyflower let out a sigh. “Never knowing what it’s like to stalk a squirrel …”
Remembering the kittypets she and Raggedpelt had met that night, Yellowfang was pretty sure that some of them would be able to catch their own prey. But she wasn’t about to say that to Hollyflower.
“What do they do all day?” the gray-and-white she-cat went on. “They don’t hunt, they don’t train to fight, they must find it really hard to have a mate if they’re shut up in a Twoleg nest all day. They hardly seem like real cats at all.”
“Russetpaw and Boulder are real cats,” Yellowfang pointed out.
“Yeah, but they’re Clan now,” Hollyflower asserted with a flick of her ears. “I’d be surprised if they even remember living over here. At any rate,” she finished with satisfaction in her tone, “kittypets don’t matter. As long as they stay out of our territory.”
Noticing that Crowtail and Newtspeck were padding up to the fence, Yellowfang leaped down to meet them, pleased to put an end to the awkward conversation with Hollyflower. As she landed, she spotted a hole at the base of the fence, where one of the strips of wood had rotted away. There was plenty of room for a cat to slip through. Instinctively she sniffed, and froze as she picked up the scent of kittypet.
Fresh … she thought. One or two cats have been through here—and not long ago, either. There was a mess of tracks around the hole, but the traces were too confused to tell Yellowfang anything useful. She wasn’t sure whether she ought to tell the others. It will only cause trouble … but then, we’re a border patrol. This is the sort of thing we’re looking for.
Before she could make up her mind, she noticed that Newtspeck had picked up the scent too, raising her head with a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “Kittypets!” she hissed.
Her neck fur bristling, she began searching along the base of the fence, trying to find the scent trail. Crowtail helped her, while Yellowfang stood still, flexing her claws, and Hollyflower watched intently from the top of the fence.
“It’s no good,” Crowtail snarled eventually. “This StarClan-cursed snow is blotting out the scent.”
“But kittypets have definitely been on this side of the fence,” Newtspeck meowed, her neck fur still fluffed up and her tail lashing. “Trespassing on our territory again. This has to stop!” She crouched, bunched her muscles, and leaped up to the top of the fence beside Hollyflower, where she let out a challenging yowl. “Stay out of our territory, kittypets!”
Yellowfang’s paws tingled with frustration. Why does Newtspeck have to go looking for a fight? Why can’t we just leave one another alone? She wasn’t sure why she was so desperate not to encounter the Twolegplace cats, but she felt cold fear deep inside her, as agonizing as Nettlespot’s hunger. We mustn’t fight!
Newtspeck launched herself off the fence and vanished on the other side into the Twoleg garden. Yellowfang heard a hiss of pain from her, and in the same heartbeat felt a sharp stab in her shoulder.
“Newtspeck, what happened?” she called.
“Nothing!” the black-and-ginger she-cat called back. “I’m fine!”
Yellowfang knew that wasn’t true. My shoulder feels like it’s on fire! “We have to make them come back,” she meowed to Hollyflower. “There’s no point in looking for trouble.”
Hollyflower looked doubtful. “We need to teach those kittypets a lesson about invading our territory,” she insisted.
Reluctantly Yellowfang scrambled back onto the fence and looked down at Newtspeck. The she-cat was holding one foreleg stiffly, but she said nothing; only the waves of pain flooding over Yellowfang told her that her Clanmate was badly hurt. Crowtail leaped up beside her and dropped down to join Newtspeck in the snow. Her ears twitched and her tail lashed as she gazed around.
“Come out if you dare!” she called. “We’ll teach you to trespass on our territory!”
A soft growl broke the silence that followed Crowtail’s challenge. Balancing awkwardly on the fence-top, Yellowfang turned to see a huge orange tom appearing around the side of the Twoleg den.
That’s Marmalade! she realized, her belly lurching. All her instincts told her to leap down from the fence before he recognized her, but she knew she couldn’t abandon her Clanmates, especially when one of them was injured.
Marmalade looked up at Yellowfang with baleful yellow eyes. “What are you doing here again?” he demanded.
“What does he mean, ‘again’?” Crowtail’s voice was sharp. “Do you know a kittypet?”
Yellowfang didn’t know how to reply. “Uh … sort of,” she admitted. “It’s not important. We’re just leaving,” she assured the ginger tom.
“No, we’re not,” Newtspeck hissed through her pain, fixing Marmalade with a fierce glare. “We’re here to tell you to stay out of our territory.”
Marmalade snorted. “I don’t understand you wild cats and your so-called territories,” he sneered. “We’re far freer on this side of the fence, because we can go wherever we want.”
Kittypets are free? Yellowfang had never thought of that before. To her dismay, Hollyflower dropped down from the fence to join Newtspeck and Crowtail.
Now she’s joining in, Yellowfang thought helplessly. I just want to get out of here!
“What do kittypets know about freedom?” Hollyflower hissed. “You don’t even catch your own food. Try asking Russetpaw and Boulder where they want to live, and see if they think kittypets are free!”
“Russetpaw? Who’s that?” Marmalade asked.
“You knew her as Red,” Hollyflower replied.
Marmalade stiffened, his gaze fixed on Hollyflower. “You know where Red and Boulder are?”
“They’re part of ShadowClan now.” Crowtail’s voice was full of triumph. “You won’t be seeing them again.”
Yellowfang braced her muscles to jump down and help her Clanmates if Marmalade attacked.
But the ginger tom just narrowed his eyes. “I see,” he mewed evenly. “Well, I’ll let you go back to your territory now.”
“You?
??re not letting us do anything!” Hollyflower retorted, sliding out her claws.
“Stop this!” Yellowfang called desperately from the fence-top. “He’s just a fat old kittypet. He’s not worth fighting. Leave him alone and get out of there.” She tried hard not to flinch as Marmalade turned his gaze onto her. She could almost hear his thoughts: Fat old kittypet, huh? Come down here and say that!
“We’ve shown our strength,” Yellowfang persisted. “Now we need to get Newtspeck back to the camp.”
“I’m fine!” Newtspeck protested.
“No, you’re not,” Yellowfang hissed through the stabbing sensation in her shoulder. “Hollyflower, Crowtail, help her over the fence.”
“I don’t need any help.” Newtspeck gave a single lash of her tail and leaped up the fence. Her paws scrabbled at the top and she fell down the other side, collapsing on the ground with a screech.
“You stupid, stupid furball!” Yellowfang snapped. She could understand that Newtspeck didn’t want to show weakness in front of Marmalade, but the flaring agony in her shoulder told her that the she-cat had made her injury worse.
Newtspeck struggled to get to her paws but she couldn’t put weight on her leg at all, and she slipped back onto her side in the snow. “Mouse dung!” she gasped.
Crowtail and Hollyflower exchanged shocked glances; clearly they hadn’t known that Newtspeck was so seriously hurt.
“Come on.” Yellowfang worked her shoulder underneath Newtspeck, and with her help the injured she-cat managed to stand. “Let’s get you home.”
Hollyflower supported her on the other side, and they began struggling back to camp, with Crowtail keeping a lookout behind in case any kittypets tried to follow them. By the time they reached the entrance, Newtspeck was barely conscious, staggering along on three paws and leaning her weight on Yellowfang and Hollyflower.
“Let’s get her to Sagewhisker,” Yellowfang panted; she was almost as exhausted as Newtspeck through the pain they shared.