It was only Yellowpaw’s second Gathering, and she was still daunted by the number of eyes gleaming from the shadows, and the unfamiliar scents. The yowls of the assembled warriors echoed around the hollow, with the four trees looming above them all.
“You’ll be fine,” Brightflower murmured, slipping to her side as they reached the base of the slope.
“Of course you will,” Brackenfoot agreed. “I used to get nervous when I first went to Gatherings. Look, sit here.” He waved his tail to a spot sheltered by overarching fronds of bracken. “You’ll get a good view, but you won’t be seen easily, and the ferns will keep other cats from crowding you too much.”
Yellowpaw touched her father’s shoulder with her nose, grateful for his understanding, then settled down in the spot he had pointed out. She watched as Archeye, Featherstorm, and Toadskip padded past her, and the rest of her Clan found spaces for themselves.
“Who are those cats?” she asked Brackenfoot, angling her ears toward two sleek, well-fed warriors. “I don’t remember seeing them last time. They look… different somehow.”
“That’s Oakheart and Timberfur from RiverClan,” her father replied. “We don’t see much of them because we don’t have a border with them.”
“The reason they look plump and shiny is because they eat fish from the river,” Brightflower added. “But they’re just warriors like the rest of us.”
Yellowpaw wrinkled her nose. She had caught a minnow once, in one of the streams that ran through ShadowClan territory, and she hadn’t much liked it. I’m glad I’m not a RiverClan cat.
She couldn’t ask any more questions because Cedarstar leaped onto the Great Rock to join the other three leaders. Yellowpaw’s nervousness ebbed, and she felt a prickle of curiosity. What news will the other leaders tell us tonight?
Then she suppressed a sigh as Foxpaw bounced into sight, pushing her way through the undergrowth to Raggedpelt’s side.
“Raggedpelt!” she panted. “There are some RiverClan apprentices over here, and I’ve been telling them how you fought off the WindClan warriors. Come and meet them.”
Raggedpelt shook his head.
“Come on!” Foxpaw nudged him impatiently. “They want to see your fighting moves.”
Yellowpaw spotted a glint of anger in Raggedpelt’s eyes. “No,” he meowed. “The Gathering is a time of peace. There’s no fighting allowed—and you shouldn’t be stirring up trouble by talking about battles between the Clans.”
Foxpaw glared at him. “You think you know everything, just because you’re a warrior now!” Spinning around, she stormed off.
Raggedpelt shrugged and started looking for a place to sit. Still feeling slightly in awe of his new warrior status, Yellowpaw stood up and went over to him.
“Foxpaw is a stupid furball,” she muttered. “You were right not to—”
She broke off as WindClan scent wafted over her and she realized that several young warriors had surrounded her and Raggedpelt, pacing around them so they couldn’t keep an eye on all of them at once. Yellowpaw recognized at least one of them who had been in the battle on WindClan territory. He was the first to speak.
“Not so brave now, are you?” he sneered. “Not without your mentor and your Clanmates.”
Yellowpaw felt Raggedpelt tense beneath his fur. “This isn’t the time to talk about fighting,” he replied.
One of the other WindClan cats gave a snort of disgust. “That’s a good excuse!”
“Go away, flea-pelts!” Yellowpaw snapped. “You wouldn’t dare say that to Raggedpelt if he was allowed to fight you.”
“Oh, so you’re Raggedpelt now,” a third WindClan cat put in. “ShadowClan must be really short of warriors.”
“Yeah, he needs an apprentice to defend him,” the third cat mewed contemptuously. “Just what you’d expect from a kittypet.”
Yellowpaw saw Raggedpelt freeze. That’s the worst thing any cat could say to him!
Raggedpelt’s claws slid out. He spun around to face the cat who was taunting him. “What did you just call me?” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “Say it again, and I’ll slice your ears off!”
No! Yellowpaw thought, fighting back panic. Raggedpelt will get into all kinds of trouble if he fights at a Gathering. Swiftly she jumped between the two cats. “Where did you hear that?” she challenged the WindClan warrior.
“Every cat knows it,” he retorted. “Still, I admit that Raggedpelt fights well… for a soft kitty.”
Raggedpelt was shouldering Yellowpaw aside when a new voice broke in. “What’s all this?”
Yellowpaw looked up to see Reedfeather, the WindClan deputy, striding toward them through the bracken. His eyes were narrowed and his neck fur bristling.
“Uh… we were just…” one of the young WindClan cats began.
“Get back to your own Clanmates,” Reedfeather meowed sternly. “The Gathering is about to start.”
For a heartbeat Yellowpaw thought that the cat who had started all the trouble was about to protest. Then he clearly thought better of it, and slunk past his deputy to the place farther around the hollow where most of WindClan was assembled. His friends followed him, their heads down and their tails drooping. Reedfeather’s glance swept across Yellowpaw and Raggedpelt, and he gave them a tiny nod before he padded after his Clanmates.
Raggedpelt’s claws were still digging into the soft earth of the hollow. His fur bristled and his eyes blazed as he watched the WindClan cats depart.
“Calm down!” Yellowpaw whispered. “Cedarstar can see you from up there.”
The anger died from Raggedpelt’s eyes, to be replaced by something dark and shadowed. “I hate it when they gossip about me.”
Sympathy surged up inside Yellowpaw. It must be terrible, not knowing who your father is, she thought, remembering how much she owed to Brackenfoot. “Have you asked Featherstorm about your father?” she mewed hesitantly.
“Over and over.” Raggedpelt sighed. “But she won’t tell me. She says it doesn’t matter, as long as I’m only loyal to ShadowClan.”
But Yellowpaw could tell that it did matter to Raggedpelt. “What about Scorchpaw? Does he know anything?”
Raggedpelt shrugged. “Scorchpaw doesn’t care. But I…” He let his voice trail off.
Yellowpaw was stretching out her tail to touch his shoulder when a yowl rang out across the clearing.
“Cats of all Clans!”
Looking up at the Great Rock, Yellowpaw saw Pinestar, leader of ThunderClan, standing in front of the other leaders, ready to start the Gathering. Raggedpelt settled down beside her, and there was no more time to talk.
All the same, Yellowpaw thought, I won’t forget this. I have to help Raggedpelt somehow. This isn’t over.
Curled in her nest later that night, Yellowpaw found it hard to settle down. Though she was tired from the Gathering, she couldn’t get Raggedpelt out of her mind. I’ve always known who my mother and father are, she thought. Even if Brackenfoot had died, I’d remember him. And I love that I look like Brightflower, she added to herself, giving her thick tail a lick. It means I feel safe in my Clan. Raggedpelt ought to be able to feel that, too. She heaved a deep sigh as she remembered how bravely Raggedpelt had attacked the WindClan tom. He’s such a brilliant warrior! There’s no way that he’s half kittypet… is he?
Suddenly Yellowpaw sat up, disturbing Rowanpaw, who muttered something crossly and wrapped her tail over her ears.
“Raggedpelt deserves to know the truth,” Yellowpaw whispered out loud. “Whatever happens, nothing is more important than that, surely? I have to find out who his father is!”