Yellowfang’s Secret

Three sunrises had passed since the quarrel with Raggedkit and Scorchkit. Yellowkit still felt uneasy around them, and tried to avoid them around the camp.

“You’re a scaredy-mouse!” Nutkit taunted her. “Go on—peek under the bush. I dare you!”

I can’t back down now, Yellowkit thought, bracing herself as she gazed across the clearing to the thick bramble bush where the warriors slept. Like all the ShadowClan dens, theirs was a shallow dip in the ground, sheltered by tightly woven thorns and enclosed by the circle of brambles. The dens surrounded a clearing beneath pine trees, with the entrance to the camp at one end and a large lichen-covered rock, known as the Clanrock, at the other.

Rowankit nudged Yellowkit. “Don’t do it! Brightflower’s got her eye on us. Look over there.” She angled her ears to where Brightflower and Brackenfoot were sharing a vole beside the fresh-kill pile. In between mouthfuls, Brightflower was turning her head to check up on her kits.

A wave of affection for her mother washed over Yellowkit. I’m glad I look like her, she thought. She had seen her own reflection in a puddle once, and almost thought she was gazing at a tiny copy of Brightflower. Though her pelt was gray, not orange tabby like her mother’s, she had the same broad, flat face, snub nose, and wide-set amber eyes.

I want to be just like her, and just like my father, Yellowkit thought. A warrior and a queen. I’ll have lots of kits, and I’ll bring them up to be great warriors for our Clan.

“I know a game!” she announced. “You be my kits, and I’ll teach you how to catch frogs.”

“Okay!” Rowankit sat in front of Yellowkit, and wrapped her tail neatly around her paws.

Nutkit rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he came to sit beside Rowankit.

Yellowkit let out a hiss. “I never saw such untidy kits,” she scolded. “Nutkit, have you been rolling around in the brambles? And Rowankit, just look at your chest fur. Give it a good lick right now!”

Rowankit let out a tiny mrrow of amusement as she started to lick her chest fur. Nutkit wriggled as Yellowkit used her claws to pick imaginary thorns out of his pelt.

“This is a dumb game,” he muttered. “And your pelt’s not so great, either.”

Yellowkit gave him a light swat around the ear. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that!”

She stood back, checking her littermates’ fur carefully, then nodded. “Much better. Now, kits, listen up. We’re going to learn how to catch a frog. Nutkit, pay attention!” She flicked her tail over her brother’s ear as he watched the jerky flight of a white butterfly. “The most important thing to remember about frogs is that they jump.”

“Can I be the frog? Can I?” Rowankit asked, bouncing up and down in excitement. “I can jump really high!”

Yellowkit let out a sigh of exasperation. “No! You’ve got to listen.”

Brightflower was padding across the clearing toward them. Her eyes were warm and amused. “That looks like a good game,” she meowed. “Yellowkit, you’ll make a great queen one day.”

“And a warrior!” Yellowkit insisted.

“Of course,” Brightflower purred. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is! I’ll be the best—” Yellowkit broke off as she spotted Cedarstar emerging from his den beneath the oak tree.

The Clan leader bounded across the clearing and leaped up onto the Clanrock. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!” he yowled.

Yellowkit turned to her mother. “What’s happening?”

“Wait and see,” Brightflower replied. “Come sit with me and your father.”

Sweeping her tail around all three kits, Brightflower led them across the clearing to where Brackenfoot sat beside the fresh-kill pile. Meanwhile, more of the Clan cats were gathering. Sagewhisker, the medicine cat, slid out from her den in the shadow of the Clanrock and sat down facing her leader. Poolcloud, her belly heavy with kits, hauled herself out of the nursery and padded slowly over to the entrance of the warriors’ den, where her mate, Toadskip, had just appeared. Toadskip’s apprentice, Ashpaw, bounded up to join them. The other two apprentices, Frogpaw and Newtpaw, broke off their play fight, shook their pelts, and sat down to listen. Crowtail, Archeye, and Hollyflower pushed their way out of the warriors’ den.

Finally Raggedkit and Scorchkit appeared from the nursery, followed by their mother, Featherstorm. Their fur was gleaming and they paced proudly across the camp to stand at the front of the crowd of cats.

Yellowkit suddenly realized what was going on. “They’re being made apprentices!”

“Shh!” Brightflower responded. “Nutkit, stop scratching your ear.”

“I wish it was our turn,” Nutkit whispered to Yellowkit. “We’ve got to wait forever.”