Yellowfang’s Secret

Brokenstar had turned away from her and was shouting instructions to the cats in the clearing. “No, Littlekit! Use your hind paws! Brownkit, Wetkit, try the double attack again on Mosspaw. Remember to strike him at exactly the same time.”

Yellowfang knew that there was no point in trying to argue with Brokenstar any further. Turning to leave, she halted at the sound of a squeal from the far side of the clearing. She spun around to see Brownkit and Wetkit backing away from Mosspaw. The tiny apprentice was lying ominously still.

“We were trying that double-attack trick, like you said,” Brownkit squeaked. “Did we do it right?”

A horrible suspicion rose to choke Yellowfang as she bounded over to Mosspaw. His head was wrenched at an awkward angle and his eyes were open but glazed.

Great StarClan, he’s dead!

Striving to keep calm, Yellowfang stepped between the kits and Mosspaw’s body. “Go straight back to the camp,” she ordered them. “Go on, all of you!”

The five kits gave one another bewildered looks, then scampered obediently away. “I guess Mosspaw must be hurt real bad!” Volekit exclaimed as they left.

Brokenstar strode across and confronted Yellowfang. “What’s going on? Why have you stopped the training?”

Yellowfang was so horrified it was hard for her to keep all her paws on the ground and not leap at her Clan leader, clawing at his eyes. “Look what happened!” she yowled.

Brokenstar gazed down at the tiny limp body. “I should have taught them better,” he mewed. “They must have got the angle wrong.”

“That’s not the point!” Yellowfang snarled. “An apprentice is dead!”

Brokenstar bowed his head. “You’re right, it’s terrible.” There was genuine regret in his voice. “The Clan needs apprentices more than ever.”

Her heart wailing with grief, Yellowfang picked up Mosspaw’s body by his scruff and carried him back to the camp. He wasn’t even four moons old!

In their den, Runningnose looked startled and shocked as Yellowfang laid Mosspaw’s body down and began to smooth his ruffled fur. “What in the name of Starclan—” he began.

Yellowfang cut off his question. “Get Featherstorm,” she ordered.

Runningnose hurried off at once and returned a few heartbeats later with Mosspaw’s mother. For a moment Featherstorm stood rigid, staring at the lifeless body of her son.

“I’m so sorry,” Yellowfang mewed.

Featherstorm seemed not to have heard her. She flung her head back and let out an anguished shriek. “No! No!”

“I’ll get her some thyme leaves for the shock,” Runningnose murmured, slipping past Yellowfang.

Featherstorm turned to Yellowfang, her eyes full of grief and confusion. “He was only training,” she meowed, her voice shaking. “How could this have happened?”

Yellowfang was determined that the kits shouldn’t be blamed for killing a Clanmate. “It was a terrible accident,” she replied.

As Featherstorm crouched beside her son, pushing her nose into his fur, Yellowfang heard Brokenstar’s voice raised in a summons to the Clan. “What now?” she growled as she headed out into the clearing.

Brokenstar stood once more upon the Clanrock. The rest of the Clan was gathering, and Yellowfang couldn’t help glancing toward the elders’ den, waiting for them to emerge. It feels so strange, that they aren’t here!

“I have some very sad news,” Brokenstar announced. “Mosspaw is dead.”

Brownkit and Wetkit let out a shriek, while murmurs of shock and disbelief rose from the rest of the Clan.

“It was just an accident,” Brokenstar went on. “You kits were all very brave. To reward you, I’m going to make you all apprentices.”

The kits’ shock changed to squeals of excitement. Yellowfang closed her eyes. Has Brokenstar learned nothing?

“Volepaw, you will be my apprentice,” Brokenstar mewed briskly, not bothering to speak the usual words of the apprentice ceremony. “Clawface, I know I promised him to you, but you can have Littlepaw instead. I owe it to Mosspaw to train his brother in his place. Blackfoot, you take Dawnpaw. Boulder, you will have Wetpaw, and Stumpytail will have Brownpaw.”

The crowd of cats shifted as four of the kits scampered up to their new mentors to touch noses with them. Only Volepaw remained at the foot of the Clanrock, gazing up at Brokenstar with shining eyes.

“I am proud of my Clan,” Brokenstar declared. “We have five new apprentices! Victory will be ours in every battle!” Glancing around, he asked, “Where is Featherstorm?”

“In my den,” Yellowfang replied.

“Fetch her.”

Before Yellowfang could move, Featherstorm emerged from the medicine cats’ den. Her head was bowed and her tail trailed in the dust.

“ShadowClan owes you a great debt for mothering so many warriors,” Brokenstar told her. “I think it would be best if you join the elders now, where you can rest and be proud.”