Yellowfang’s Secret

Yellowkit nodded, knowing she had to accept what the medicine cat said. I wish I could do something to help. Then she remembered how thirsty Silverflame always seemed. She must get so cold, coming out to drink at the pool. If I found some moss, I could bring her a drink into her den.

Feeling better now that she had a plan, Yellowkit plunged through the snow to where a fallen tree lay among the thornbushes that surrounded the camp. As she pushed her way beneath the spiky branches she dislodged clumps of snow that showered down over her head and shoulders. Yellowkit let out a snarl as she shook the icy flakes from her pelt.

The moss-covered tree was just ahead of her. But as she reached out to strip off a pawful of moss, Yellowkit heard voices on the other side of the brambles. Curious, she scrambled over the tree trunk and wriggled farther through the thorns, her paws tingling with excitement as she realized she was almost outside the camp. Peering cautiously through the branches, Yellowkit saw a flat stretch of ground enclosed by the dark trunks of pine trees. The surface of the snow was churned up, and Brackenfoot was standing with Raggedpaw in the middle of the rough patch.

“You’ve learned that move really well,” Brackenfoot was meowing. “Now you need to work on getting more power into your swipe. Let’s try it again.”

Yellowkit watched, fascinated, as Brackenfoot crouched down in the snow and Raggedpaw charged at him, darting in to rake his paw over his mentor’s ear, and leaping back before Brackenfoot could retaliate.

“Better,” Brackenfoot praised him. “Try again. Harder!”

This time Brackenfoot rose to his paws and waited with muscles tensed for Raggedpaw’s attack. As Raggedpaw struck out, Brackenfoot ducked so that the blow only ruffled his fur. Raggedpaw leaped at him again and suddenly the two cats were locked together, swiping at each other with all four paws as they struggled to pin the other to the ground.

Yellowkit drew in a breath of mingled excitement and horror, terrified that her Clanmates would injure each other, until she noticed that they were fighting with sheathed claws.

I can’t believe how good Raggedpaw is, she thought with a twinge of envy. He’s still only an apprentice!

A moment later, Raggedpaw let out a yowl of triumph. He was standing on top of Brackenfoot, his forepaws pinning down his mentor’s shoulders, while one hind paw was fixed firmly on his tail. Brackenfoot was panting, his eyes half-closed and his muscles limp. Yellowkit’s eyes widened in dismay and she flexed her claws, ready to dash out and defend her father.

“I won!” Raggedpaw meowed. His eyes blazed as he looked down at his mentor. “I’m the best fighter in the Clan!”

Before the last words were out of his jaws, Brackenfoot surged upward, flinging Raggedpaw off him and rolling him over in the snow. “What was that again?” he asked mildly as Raggedpaw scrambled up with snow clumped all over his pelt.

Yellowkit let out a gleeful mrrow to see that her father hadn’t lost the battle after all. Raggedpaw thinks he’s so great…

Raggedpaw glared at his mentor. “You cheated! You pretended to be beaten!”

“And you think that an enemy won’t do that when you fight in a real battle? You’re doing well, Raggedpaw, and you’ll be a great fighter one day, but you still have a lot to learn.”

Raggedpaw shook himself, spraying snow everywhere. His shoulders sagged. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. Will you teach me that move?”

“Another time,” Brackenfoot promised. “We’ve done enough for today. Let’s get back to camp, and you can take something from the fresh-kill pile.”

“Thanks!” Raggedpaw’s eyes glowed. “I’m starving!”

Brackenfoot turned toward the camp entrance and Raggedpaw was about to follow. Suddenly he froze and Yellowkit shrank back as she realized the apprentice was staring straight at her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Raggedpaw demanded. “Hey, Brackenfoot, Yellowkit’s spying on us!”

Brackenfoot glanced back, spotting his daughter among the thorns. “Don’t be such a mouse-brain,” he told Raggedpaw. “Yellowkit can watch if she wants. She might learn something.”

Raggedpaw let out a snort of disgust, but said nothing more. Her fur hot with embarrassment, Yellowkit scrambled backward until she reached the fallen tree again. Tearing off a pawful of thick moss, she scampered across the camp to soak it in the puddle before carrying it to the elders’ den.

“Here, Silverflame,” she mumbled around her mouthful as she poked her head underneath the branches. “I brought you a drink.”

All three elders were huddled together in the shelter of the stump. Littlebird narrowed her eyes at Yellowkit. “Keep that wet moss away from our bedding,” she snapped.