Rising Storm

There was barely light enough to see. Fireheart had never been in here before, and he paused for a moment, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. At the foot of one wall was a row of herbs and berries, stained by smoke but unburned. Then he glimpsed a pair of eyes shining at him from the far end of the narrow cavern.

“Yellowfang!” Fireheart rushed to the medicine cat’s side. She lay with her legs crumpled beneath her, soot-covered and wheezing, too weak to move. She could barely hold his gaze, and when she spoke her voice was breathless and feeble.

“Fireheart,” she croaked. “I’m glad it’s you who came.”

“I shouldn’t have left you here.” Fireheart pressed his muzzle against her matted fur. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did you save Patchpelt?”

Fireheart shook his head hopelessly. “He had breathed in too much smoke.”

“Halftail too,” rasped Yellowfang.

Fireheart saw her eyelids quiver and begin to close, and he meowed desperately, “But we saved Goldenflower’s kit!”

“Which one was it?” Yellowfang murmured.

“Bramblekit.” He watched as Yellowfang closed her eyes briefly, and his blood ran cold. Now Yellowfang knew that he had risked her life to save Tigerclaw’s. Had StarClan shared something with her, something she feared enough to wish the kit had not survived?

“You’re a brave warrior, Fireheart.” Yellowfang suddenly opened her eyes wide and stared fiercely at him. “I could not be prouder of you if you were my own son. And StarClan knows how many times I have wished that you were, instead of”—she drew a shallow, grating breath, and Fireheart knew every word stuck thorn-sharp in her throat—“Brokentail.”

Fireheart flinched as the old medicine cat revealed her terrible secret: that ShadowClan’s brutal leader had been her son, given up at birth because medicine cats were not allowed to have children. Who knew what agonies Yellowfang had endured as she watched her son kill his own father to become leader, and then destroy her Clan with his bloodthirsty ambitions?

And how could Fireheart tell her that he already knew this? That he had understood that the reason she had wanted to give Brokentail sanctuary in her adopted Clan was because she wanted one last chance to take care of the son she had given up? He leaned forward and licked her ears, hoping to soothe her, but she went on.

“I killed him. I poisoned him. I wanted him to die.” Her rasping admission collapsed into painful coughing.

“Hush. Save your strength,” Fireheart urged. He knew this, too. He had watched, hidden, as she fed Brokentail the poisonous berries after the traitorous cat helped Tigerclaw’s rogues attack ThunderClan. He had witnessed the cruel warrior die at his mother’s paws, and he had heard Yellowfang give away her real relationship with the heartless tom. “Let me fetch you some water,” he offered.

But Yellowfang shook her head slowly. “Water’s no use to me now,” she croaked. “I want to tell you everything before I—”

“You’re not going to die!” Fireheart gasped, feeling a shard of ice pierce his heart. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“Don’t waste your time.” Yellowfang coughed angrily. “I’m going to die whatever you do, but I’m not afraid. Just listen to me.”

Fireheart wanted to beg her to be silent, to save her breath so that she could live a few moments longer, but he respected her enough to obey her even now.

“I wish you’d been my son, but I could not have borne a cat like you. StarClan gave me Brokentail to teach me a lesson.”

“What did you need to learn?” Fireheart protested. “You are as wise as Bluestar herself.”

“I killed my own son.”

“He deserved it!”

“But I was his mother,” whispered Yellowfang. “StarClan may judge me how they will. I am ready.”

Unable to answer, Fireheart dipped his head and began frantically licking her fur, as if his love for this old she-cat were enough to hold her in the forest for a while longer.

“Fireheart,” Yellowfang murmured.

Fireheart paused. “Yes?”

“Thank you for bringing me to ThunderClan. Tell Bluestar I have always been grateful for the home she gave me. This is a good place to die. I only regret that I will miss watching you become what StarClan has destined you to be.” The old medicine cat’s voice trailed away, and her flanks heaved with the effort of sucking air into her smoke-scorched lungs.

“Yellowfang,” Fireheart pleaded. “Don’t die!”

Her painful breathing clawed at his heart, and he realized there was nothing he could do. “Don’t be afraid of StarClan.

They will understand about Brokentail,” he promised wretchedly. “You will be honored by our warrior ancestors for your loyalty to your Clanmates and for your endless courage. So many cats owe their lives to you. Cinderpelt would have died after her accident if you had not tended to her. And when there was greencough, you fought day and night…”

Fireheart could not stop the words from tumbling out even though he knew the old medicine cat’s breathing had faded into everlasting silence. Yellowfang was dead.

Chapter 28