Raggedpelt rolled his eyes. “Then Sagewhisker should ask the apprentices to gather them for her, not warriors!”
“It’s not like it’s hard,” Foxheart put in.
“It’s a warrior’s duty to care for the Clan,” Yellowfang snapped. “That means collecting herbs as well as hunting for food and fighting.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Raggedpelt’s tail-tip twitched. “You’re not a medicine cat, so sick Clanmates are not your responsibility. Any cat would think you didn’t want to be a warrior.”
“Of course I want to be a warrior,” Yellowfang retorted.
“Then let me know when you want to start battle training again,” Raggedpelt meowed, brushing past her. “Hey, Lizardstripe, come on out! We know you’re in there!”
Yellowfang headed into the camp, wincing at the wall of pain and hunger that hit her as soon as she emerged from the tunnel. I wish I could tell Raggedpelt how I feel when my Clanmates are in pain. But I know he would never understand. She sighed. I didn’t ask for this! I just want to be a warrior!
Chapter 17
Yellowfang woke with a jerk and realized she couldn’t breathe. StarClan, help me! She scrabbled with her paws, trying to push away the moss that she thought was suffocating her. But her feet closed on empty air. There was no moss on top of her. She opened her eyes and looked around the den. All the other warriors were sleeping, their flanks rising and falling gently as they breathed.
By now, each wheezing gasp of air took a massive effort. Yellowfang stumbled to her paws and staggered out of the den, barely managing to avoid Nutwhisker, who was curled up in his nest. Cold gripped her as she emerged into the clearing, as if claws of ice were sinking deep into her pelt. The stars glittered in a clear, black sky. Nothing stirred in the camp, but Yellowfang could hear the murmuring of voices coming from the elders’ den.
Still struggling to breathe, Yellowfang limped across the clearing. As she approached the den, she could hear the same rasping breaths, and Lizardfang’s voice meowing, “You can’t go on like this, Littlebird. You need Sagewhisker.”
Yellowfang glanced into the den and saw Littlebird lying in the moss, her chest heaving as she fought to breathe. Lizardfang was looking on helplessly while he stroked Littlebird’s shoulder with one paw.
“I’ll fetch Sagewhisker,” Yellowfang meowed.
When Yellowfang reached the medicine cat’s den, Sagewhisker was curled up in her nest, so deeply asleep that it took several heartbeats to wake her. Yellowfang guessed that she was exhausted from caring for all the cats who had fallen ill from cold and hunger. Once she roused, she blinked up at Yellowfang in confusion. “Wha’?”
Growing impatient, Yellowfang crossed the den to the holes where the herbs were stored and pushed back the ferns that covered them. The coltsfoot she had gathered two sunrises ago had already been used, but she found a few withered juniper berries at the bottom of one hole.
Snagging a single berry on her claw, Yellowfang took it to Sagewhisker and thrust it under her nose. “Littlebird can’t breathe,” she told the medicine cat. “This will help, right?”
Sagewhisker nodded wearily. “Call me if there’s a problem,” she murmured.
Yellowfang blinked, surprised by the medicine cat’s confidence in her. Hey, I’m not your apprentice! she thought, then shrugged and padded out with the berry.
Lizardfang looked up in alarm when Yellowfang pushed her way back into the elders’ den. “Why didn’t Sagewhisker come?” he meowed. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Yellowfang told him. “I’m just helping out. Come on, Littlebird, Sagewhisker sent you this juniper berry. It’ll help you breathe.”
Littlebird took the berry from Yellowfang’s claw, chewed feebly, and managed to swallow it. Then she flopped back down and closed her eyes. To Yellowfang’s relief the tightness in her own chest began to relax.
“Look, Lizardfang,” Yellowfang suggested, “if we build the moss up a bit on this side, Littlebird can be more upright while she rests. It should help her to breathe more easily.”
Lizardfang hoisted Littlebird while Yellowfang built up a mound of moss underneath the elder’s shoulders. The sick cat let out a sigh; already her breathing was starting to improve. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Lizardfang curled up beside Littlebird to keep her warm, and Yellowfang headed back to Sagewhisker’s den. Her own breathing had eased along with Littlebird’s.
The medicine cat was still awake, and halfway sat up as Yellowfang slipped between the boulders. “How is she?”
“Better,” Yellowfang replied. “I don’t think you need to see her tonight.”
Sagewhisker nodded. “Thanks, Yellowfang. I’ll look in on her at dawn.”
Thrusting her way back into the warriors’ den, Yellowfang noticed that Raggedpelt was awake, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness. “Where have you been?” he whispered.
“Helping Littlebird,” Yellowfang responded, weaving her way among the sleeping cats to reach her nest. “She couldn’t breathe, so I fetched a juniper berry for her.”
Raggedpelt’s eyes narrowed. “That’s Sagewhisker’s responsibility, not yours.”
Relieved that he hadn’t asked her how she knew Littlebird needed help, Yellowfang meowed, “I just don’t want to let my Clanmates suffer, okay?”
Raggedpelt let out a snort that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “I said we’d be leader and deputy, not leader and medicine cat!”
He beckoned with his tail, and Yellowfang curled up beside him, their pelts pressed together against the cold. This is good, Yellowfang thought drowsily as she sank into sleep. I wish we could always be like this.
The full moon floated high above the ShadowClan camp. Yellowfang hadn’t been chosen to go to the Gathering, but she couldn’t sleep until she found out what had happened there. She sat in the warriors’ den, paws tucked under her, until she heard the sound of paws racing across the packed earth floor of the camp. Raggedpelt was the first cat to appear, thrusting his broad shoulders through the outer branches of the den.
“Any news?” Yellowfang asked, springing up.
Raggedpelt’s expression was grim. “All the Clans looked better fed than us,” he reported, his lips drawn back in the beginning of a snarl. “And Heatherstar of WindClan told this ridiculous story about picking up ShadowClan scent on their territory.”
“That’s completely unfair!” Yellowfang meowed indignantly. “No cat has been over there.”
“I know that, but WindClan won’t believe it.” Raggedpelt gave his whiskers a disgusted twitch. “And that’s not all. Featherwhisker, the ThunderClan medicine cat, was asking Foxheart and Russetpaw some very odd questions.”
“What sort of questions?”
“Oh, is everything okay in ShadowClan… that sort of thing.”
Yellowfang was puzzled. “But Featherwhisker must have seen Sagewhisker at the half-moon… why does he need to ask questions at a Gathering? Unless he was concerned that all our warriors look so thin.”
Raggedpelt snorted. “Medicine cats should keep their noses where they belong!”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Yellowfang soothed him, resting her tail-tip on his shoulder.
By now more cats were pushing their way into the den. Foxheart scampered past, her paws scattering moss, with Lizardstripe just behind her. She halted when she saw Yellowfang. “Did you stay behind to go hunting for herbs?” she teased.
“Yeah, it must be really hard to track down leaves,” Lizardstripe added.
The two she-cats exchanged a glance and let out a mrrow of mocking laughter.