“Yeah,” Mudclaw agreed. “They’ve no business here.”
Hostile murmurs rose from the corners of the camp. Glancing around, Yellowfang spotted Raggedpelt crouching down as if he was ready to pounce on the Twolegplace cats. A low growl came from his throat.
“Well?” Cedarstar prompted. “Why have you come here?”
Red took a pace forward with her head held high. Yellowfang couldn’t help admiring her courage. She looked barely old enough to be an apprentice, yet she held Cedarstar’s gaze calmly.
“My name is Red, and this is Boulder,” she announced. “We want to join your Clan.”
The defiant muttering changed to murmurs of disbelief.
“Right!” Nutwhisker spoke into Yellowfang’s ear. “As if we’d swallow that!”
Boulder stepped forward to stand beside his friend. “We really do,” he insisted. “We want to hunt and fight like you do.”
“Why?” Stonetooth challenged them, padding out of the crowd to join Cedarstar. “You belong in the Twolegplace. You should go back.”
“And stay there!” Amberleaf called out.
“I don’t believe a single word of this,” Blizzardwing put in. “It must be a trick!”
Cedarstar stared at the intruders. “Tell us why you wish to join ShadowClan,” he meowed.
“It’s great here in the forest!” Boulder burst out enthusiastically. “You catch your own prey, and—”
Red gave him a hard shove. “Shut up, flea-brain! That’s not what’s most important.” Addressing Cedarstar with a polite dip of her head, she went on, “You impressed us when you fought with us. You showed us your strength and skill, but you showed us mercy, too.”
“That’s right,” Boulder added. “You could have killed us, but you chose not to. If that’s what it means to live by your warrior code—that, and the fact that you feed yourselves, and find your own shelter—then we want to be part of it.”
Silence greeted the young cats’ serious words, followed by a babble of comment.
“They’re lying!”
“Maybe not. Maybe—”
Cedarstar raised his tail for silence. “It will be a long, hard struggle to win acceptance here in the Clan,” he warned the newcomers. “Kittypets have never been welcome in the forest.”
“We’re not kittypets!” Red retorted, her neck fur fluffing out with indignation. “Both our mothers caught their own prey on the streets of Twolegplace. We would never live with housefolk!”
“You can’t prove that!” Scorchwind scoffed.
But Cedarstar was looking thoughtful. “Very well,” he began slowly. “A Clan would be foolish to turn down the prospect of new warriors, especially when times are hard. More paws to catch prey will always be a valued addition. You may stay here for one moon. If you prove your loyalty during that time, I’ll consider making you part of ShadowClan.”
“You won’t regret it,” Red mewed.
“I hope not,” Cedarstar responded. Flicking his tail to beckon Brackenfoot, he continued, “Show them to the apprentices’ den and teach them how to make nests for themselves.”
As Brackenfoot led the rogues away, Yellowfang spotted Foxpaw watching with an expression of disgust. “Yuck!” she exclaimed to Wolfpaw. “I don’t want them sleeping with us. I bet they’re full of fleas.”
“Don’t worry,” Wolfpaw replied. “We’ll make sure they get all the worst jobs, like checking the elders for ticks.”
Cedarstar turned to go back to his own den, but Stonetooth stood in his way. “Are you crazy?” he hissed. “These cats are our enemies. They must be spies!”
“There’s no proof of that,” Cedarstar responded calmly.
Stonetooth snorted. “Do you remember when we thought Featherstorm might have been visiting the Twolegplace at night?” He lowered his voice, but Yellowfang could still catch his words. “Do you want more trouble like that? We can’t have our cats tangled up with—”
Cedarstar cut him off with a brusque wave of his tail. “And we can’t afford to turn away strong young cats who might be telling the truth. Do you want them to go to another Clan and learn to fight against us? No, we’ll give them a chance to…”
As the warriors moved away, Yellowfang couldn’t hear any more. She glanced around for Raggedpelt, but he had vanished. Instead, Nutwhisker turned to her, his fur bristling.
“Twolegplace cats made apprentices!” he exclaimed. “Cedarstar must be mouse-brained!”
To her surprise, Yellowfang felt defensive on behalf of Red and Boulder. “We should give them a chance,” she meowed. “They’re cats, the same as us. And they’re not kittypets, which makes a difference, right?”
“They’re still—” Nutwhisker began, but broke off as Archeye called his name from across the clearing.
“I’m leading a hunting patrol. Do you want to come?” Archeye asked.
“Sure!” Nutwhisker raced off.
Yellowfang looked at Raggedpelt, who was waiting to join Archeye’s patrol. I wish I knew what he was thinking.
At that moment Raggedpelt noticed that she was watching him. For a heartbeat his gaze locked with hers; then he turned away with a scowl.
Annoying furball! Yellowfang thought with a flash of frustration. When will he stop treating me like an enemy? He should know I’d never give away his secret!
Yellowfang had been to the dirtplace and returned to camp as twilight was falling. As she emerged from the tunnel she spotted Red and Boulder sharing a vole a few tail-lengths away. She hesitated, not knowing whether to approach them or not. Before she could decide, Red looked up, then glanced at Boulder and led the way over to Yellowfang.
“You’re the cat who came to see Hal, aren’t you?” Boulder meowed. “With that tom over there?” He pointed with his tail toward Raggedpelt, who was sitting with his brother near the fresh-kill pile.
Yellowfang felt hot all over. “Yes,” she admitted.
“I guess you weren’t supposed to be hanging out with cats from Twolegplace.” Red’s voice was surprisingly sympathetic. “You guys have a lot of rules about where you’re supposed to go.”
“Yeah.” Yellowfang was grateful for the young cat’s understanding. “So if you don’t mind…”
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us,” Red mewed cheerfully. “Who knows, we might want to have a few nighttime adventures of our own, once we’ve learned our way around!”
For a heartbeat Yellowfang felt a flash of suspicion, but she crushed it down. She guessed that most Clan cats had felt the same when they were young.
It’s just as well they didn’t hear us talking to Hal, Yellowfang thought. They’re too young to have been born when Featherstorm was visiting the Twolegplace, which means they have no idea that Hal could be Raggedpelt’s father.
Yellowfang trotted to the fresh-kill pile and chose a mouse for herself. She noticed that Raggedpelt was casting worried glances toward Red and Boulder, his claws flexing nervously.
I should tell him that they won’t say anything about the time we went to Twolegplace. Then she let out an irritable snort. Let him suffer! If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I don’t see why I should make his life easier.
Next morning Yellowfang awoke to the sound of Cedarstar’s voice ringing out across the camp. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a Clan meeting!”
Yellowfang poked her head out of the warriors’ den. It had rained in the night, but now sunlight glittered on shallow pools on the floor of the clearing and on droplets caught among the branches of the dens. The dawn patrol, led by Finchflight, was just returning.
Cedarstar stood on top of the rock, watching the Clan assemble below him. Sagewhisker was sitting at the entrance of her den, with Brightflower, Lizardfang, and Littlebird beside her. Foxpaw and Wolfpaw scrambled out of the apprentices’ den and wriggled through the gathering crowd to find places at the front. Red and Boulder followed more slowly. They exchanged an anxious glance with each other and sat down close to the brambles that circled the clearing.