Yellowfang’s Secret

“We won’t.” Hollyflower gathered her patrol with a flick of her tail and led them through the trees until they crossed their own border and stood beneath the looming walls of the Twolegplace. “Split up,” she ordered. “See if you can find the place where the kittypet came into the forest.”

Yellowfang headed for a high fence made of interwoven strips of wood. Twoleg dens lay on the other side of it. She crept along the bottom of the barrier, jaws parted, then halted as she picked up the mingled scent of two or three kittypets. They matched up exactly with the scents on the half-eaten squirrel. “I’ve found it!” she called out.

Hollyflower came bounding up with the other warriors behind her, and sniffed at the place Yellowfang indicated. “Not much doubt about that,” she murmured, with a look of distaste. “Toadskip, climb the fence and see what’s on the other side.”

The tabby tom leaped upward, digging his claws into the wood until he had scrambled to the top. For a couple of heartbeats he gazed down on the other side, then turned back with a shrug. “Nothing,” he reported. “Just Twoleg grass and plants. No sign of any cats.”

“That’s because they only come out at night,” Yellowfang meowed.

Her Clanmates gazed at her with surprise.

“How do you know that?” Newtspeck prompted.

“Oh… uh… one of the elders told me,” Yellowfang mumbled. To her relief, no cat questioned her further.

“So what do we do now?” Toadskip asked, hopping down onto the grass beside the others.

Hollyflower thought for a moment. “Toadskip, you and Newtspeck had better bury that squirrel,” she ordered. “And then finish the patrol. Yellowfang, you come back to camp with me. Cedarstar will want to know about this.”

Moonlight shone down into the camp as the warriors of ShadowClan gathered in the clearing. Cedarstar had been as outraged as Yellowfang had expected when Hollyflower reported that kittypets had been killing prey on ShadowClan territory.

“I’ll lead two patrols out there tonight,” he had decided. “We’ll show those kittypets that they don’t mess with ShadowClan.”

Yellowfang’s paws tingled as she followed her Clan leader through the brambles. She felt proud that Cedarstar had chosen her for one of the patrols, but at the same time her belly was churning with nervousness.

What if one of the kittypets recognizes me?

Waiting for her turn to pass through the entrance, she tried to catch Raggedpelt’s eye. She knew he must be feeling just as nervous.

What if it was Hal who killed the squirrel?

But Raggedpelt wouldn’t look at her, deliberately turning his back and talking to Nutwhisker.

Yellowfang jumped as she felt a prod in her side. “Come on, move your paws,” Scorchwind hissed. “Are you waiting for daylight?”

Yellowfang realized that she was blocking the gap. “Sorry,” she muttered, plunging into the thorns and trying to put Raggedpelt out of her mind.

A cold breeze whispered through the pine needles as the warriors plunged into the trees. Black shadows shifted over the ground from the movement of the branches, and silver flakes of moonlight dappled the cats’ fur. With Yellowfang in Cedarstar’s patrol were Rowanberry, Deerleap, and Raggedpelt. Just behind them Stonetooth led the second patrol: Scorchwind, Nutwhisker, Newtspeck, and Crowtail.

When the harsh lights of the Twolegplace appeared through the trees, Cedarstar halted. All the warriors gathered around him and he spoke in a low voice. “The two patrols will split up and watch for the kittypets from opposite sides,” he mewed. “All of you take cover, and don’t move until I give the signal. Maybe we can finish this without a fight.”

“What signal?” Stonetooth asked.

“I’ll kink my tail like this,” Cedarstar replied, demonstrating. He dug his claws into the ground. “You are ShadowClan warriors and I trust you. Once the fighting starts, make sure that those kittypets don’t know what hit them.”

Stonetooth gave a curt nod and led his patrol away. Cedarstar took his cats in the opposite direction, toward the fence where Yellowfang had scented the intruders. There wasn’t much undergrowth beneath the pine trees, but they found shelter behind the brambles where Newtspeck had discovered the squirrel.

Yellowfang crouched among the thorns with Deerleap on one side of her and Raggedpelt on the other, their pelts brushing. Yellowfang was acutely aware of him, embarrassed to be so close when he refused to be her friend anymore. “Won’t the kittypets scent so many of us?” she whispered. “If they know we’re here, they won’t come out.”

Deerleap gave a disdainful sniff. “Most kittypets couldn’t scent a fox if it was right in front of them.”

Yellowfang gave a small mrrow of amusement. “I guess they never had a mentor to tell them to look, listen, and scent.”

“Quiet there!” Cedarstar’s low voice came from somewhere close by.