Yellowfang’s Secret

ShadowClan is victorious and feared by all the Clans, just as Brokenstar promised. But darkness lies at its heart.

Excited squeaks from the other side of the clearing jerked Yellowfang out of her black mood. Her heart lifted as she watched Brightflower’s kits playing outside the nursery. Then she realized that Marigoldkit was pouncing on a ball of moss, shredding it to bits with tiny claws, while Mintkit was dragging a feather along the ground, worrying at it as if it were a defeated enemy.

So young, and already playing at battle?

Yellowfang bounded across the clearing. “I know a better game,” she announced. “See if you can catch my tail.” She twitched the tip invitingly in front of Mintkit.

Both kits stopped what they were doing. They looked at Yellowfang’s tail, then at each other, but neither of them moved.

If a cat had offered that to me or my littermates, Yellowfang thought, their tail would have been shredded by now.

“Okay,” she mewed. “What about this?” She held her tail out level with the ground. “Let’s see how high you can jump.”

“Is that part of warrior training?” Mintkit squeaked.

“Well, not exactly,” Yellowfang admitted.

“In that case,” Marigoldkit mewed with a polite dip of her head, “we’ll keep practicing our battle moves, thanks. Brokenstar said it’s important to be as strong as we can before he gives us our mentors.”

Yellowfang recalled her own early days in the nursery, playing with Nutwhisker and Rowanberry. Attacking the elders’ tails was the closest we got to fighting. Yes, we pretended they were WindClan invaders, but we knew real battles were moons away. These kits could be fighting to their deaths by the end of greenleaf.

She watched, sick at heart, as Marigoldkit went back to her moss and Mintkit to his feather.

A few moments later Brightflower emerged from the nursery and came to stand by Yellowfang’s side. “They’re so strong already,” she meowed, though Yellowfang could see a flicker of fear in her eyes.

“They’re certainly lively,” Yellowfang commented. “They must keep you busy!”

Her mother nodded. “I’ll be joining the elders as soon as they leave the nursery,” she revealed. “It seems so strange, not to have them around,” she added, “though I’d never say so in front of Brokenstar.”

“They should be here,” Yellowfang meowed.

Brightflower gave a swift glance around. “Don’t let our leader hear you say that!”

Yellowfang twitched her ears. “Well, the elders seem happy enough in their new home.” It was hard to force out the words when she thought of that tiny hollow in the marshes. “Nightpelt hunts for them.”

“And I’ll help him when I go to join them,” Brightflower declared. “I’m looking forward to the quiet. I’m feeling my age with these kits around!”

A pulse of shock ran through Yellowfang. “Brightflower, you’re not old!”

“Yes, I am,” her mother purred gently. “And so are you, Yellowfang. None of us survives forever.”

Yellowfang looked around at her Clanmates, from the traces of gray on her mother’s muzzle to the kits wrestling with moss and feathers beside her. Suddenly everything seemed as fragile as a moth’s wing, as fleeting as a drop of dew.

Nothing survives forever—not even ShadowClan, with Brokenstar as our leader.

Chapter 39

“Yellowfang, wake up!”

Something was prodding Yellowfang in her flank. She opened her eyes to see Brightflower standing beside her nest. Her fur was fluffed up and her eyes wide with anxiety.

“What’s the matter?” Yellowfang leaped to her paws. “Is it the kits?”

Brightflower nodded. “They’re not in the nursery. They were with me when I went to sleep, but now they’re gone!”

“We’ll find them,” Yellowfang mewed reassuringly.

She looked for Runningnose to ask him for help in the search, but he was deeply asleep after the long journey from the Moonstone, and she decided not to disturb him unless she had to. Stifling a trickle of fear, Yellowfang led the way out into the clearing. The night was dark, the moon showing fitfully in a sky ribbed with cloud. “Let’s try the apprentices’ den first,” she suggested.

But when she and Brightflower peered into the den they saw only the four remaining cats in training, curled up and snuffling gently in their sleep.

“The warriors’ den?” Brightflower guessed.

When she poked her head through the branches, Yellowfang saw nothing but dark lumps of slumbering fur. Thrusting herself completely inside, she roused Clawface, who was nearest, with a sharp tug on his tail.