Yellowfang’s Secret

“You should have seen me fighting with their deputy,” Boulder responded. “I think he must be still running!”

Do they even know that Badgerfang died today?

Yellowfang sighed and went to fetch marigold, goldenrod, and cobweb. “Let me look at that ear,” she snapped at Boulder. “And for StarClan’s sake, keep still!”

While she was cleaning up the savaged ear, Littlepaw crept into the den, holding out one paw that was bleeding where a claw had been torn away. “Is it true?” he mewed. “Is Badgerfang really dead?”

“Yes,” Yellowfang replied curtly.

To her astonishment, Littlepaw’s eyes shone. “Wow, he’s a true warrior now! I hope he’s watching me from StarClan!”

Grief struck Yellowfang like a blow. These tiny cats are far too accepting of death in battle. The warrior code has been trampled in the dust if they have no hope of living long enough to become elders.

When the last injured warrior had been treated, Runningnose helped Yellowfang clean up the leftover herbs. “Are you coming to the feast?” he asked.

Yellowfang shook her head. “I’m not hungry. You go.”

When Runningnose had left the den, Yellowfang did her best to ignore the sounds of celebration outside, and curled up in her nest. As sleep claimed her, she turned her thoughts toward StarClan. They cannot hide from me forever! I have to speak with them!

Opening her eyes within her dream, Yellowfang found herself in the windswept marsh where Brokenstar had received his nine lives. She paced among the reeds and scrubby bushes until she found Cedarstar, his head lowered as he lapped from a pool.

All the pent-up anger of the last moons burst from Yellowfang at once. “Why did you let Brokenstar become leader?” she shrieked. “What were you thinking, you mouse-brained foxes?”

Cedarstar raised his head and shook droplets of water from his whiskers. His gaze was solemn. “What choice did we have?” he asked. “Brokenstar was Raggedstar’s deputy. When Raggedstar died, we had to make him leader. That is the way of the warrior code.”

“Well, you made a mistake!” Yellowfang retorted. “There are kits here who shouldn’t even have been apprentices, let alone fighting in battle! You have to stop him.”

Cedarstar turned away. “There’s nothing we can do. Brokenstar promised to make ShadowClan the most feared Clan in the forest, and he has kept his promise.”

“What, even feared by StarClan?” Yellowfang sneered. Frustration and fury and compassion for the innocent dead spilled over inside her. “A curse upon you for letting us suffer like this!”

As she screeched out the words she awoke with a jolt in her own nest. StarClan, Cedarstar, the scent of her ancestors had all vanished. Her questions remained unanswered. StarClan could do nothing to help. Yellowfang’s anger ebbed, leaving behind nothing but emptiness and a strange sense of loss. She had never felt more alone, more abandoned by the ancestors who should have protected her. From now on, I cannot even trust StarClan.

“It’s the meeting tonight,” Runningnose remarked. “We should go to the Moonstone.”

Half a moon had passed since Yellowfang had dreamed of Cedarstar. Since then she had had no contact with StarClan, not even in dreams of violence and blood. She knew that she could not go meet the other medicine cats, press her nose against the Moonstone, and pretend that nothing had changed. “Go without me,” she meowed. “I have nothing to say to them or to our ancestors.”

Runningnose’s voice was urgent. “You cannot give up hope.”

“As long as Brokenstar rules this Clan, there is no hope!” Yellowfang snarled.

“Then don’t give up on your Clanmates,” Runningnose pleaded. “They need you. I need you. Please, Yellowfang, you have to keep going.”

“What, keep on burying kits who should still be at their mother’s bellies?” Yellowfang let her fury spill out in a low-voiced snarl. “Keep on treating wounds from battles that should not have been fought? Keep on sending the elders to the farthest corner of the territory because their wisdom is valued less than dirt?”

Runningnose shook his head. “I made a vow to serve ShadowClan,” he mewed quietly, “and that will outlast any leader.”

Yellowfang touched Runningnose on the shoulder with her tail. “Your loyalty is admirable,” she murmured. “I chose well when I made you my apprentice.”

Following her friend into the clearing, Yellowfang watched him leave for the meeting. Her hatred of StarClan was a cold, hard knot inside her. Around her the life of the Clan went on; Blackfoot was leading a patrol out, while the apprentices dragged bedding out of the warriors’ den. Yet there were no elders sunning themselves at the entrance to their den, and no hunters returning laden with fresh-kill.