Sagewhisker gave her a prod. “Keep still,” she hissed. “I can’t concentrate on what Heatherstar is saying.”
“Sorry,” Yellowfang muttered.
“Do you have a pain somewhere?” Sagewhisker asked. “Have you eaten crow-food by mistake?”
“That must be it,” Yellowfang agreed.
But she knew what this feeling was. She’d treated enough pregnant queens now to recognize the quiver of unborn babies, even before their mother’s belly had begun to swell. Yellowfang tried to block out the sensation, wondering which of the queens around her could be expecting kits. But the wriggling went on, even though Yellowfang held her breath with the effort to concentrate on her own stomach.
Which meant that these weren’t the feelings belonging to another cat. These were truly inside her belly, kicking and squirming and growing… A cold sensation of dread crept through Yellowfang’s fur.
I’m a medicine cat now! Great StarClan, there’s no way I can have kits!
Chapter 24
Yellowfang hauled herself out of her nest a few days after the Gathering. Every muscle in her body protested; she felt as exhausted as if she had run all the way around the border, three times.
“Why are you always so tired these days?” Sagewhisker asked her as Yellowfang forced herself to draw her paws over her ears in a sketchy grooming. “And you’re putting on weight, too. Maybe if you didn’t eat so much, you would be able to do more.”
“Maybe,” Yellowfang muttered. If I weren’t a medicine cat, you would know what the problem is. But you’d never even begin to guess that I’m expecting kits. What am I going to do?
Slipping out of the den, she stood at the edge of the clearing and watched her Clanmates going about their duties. The apprentices were hauling a load of bedding out of the elders’ den. As Yellowfang watched, Flintpaw rolled up a ball of moss and hurled it at Nightpaw’s head.
Nightpaw batted it away. “Stop being such a mouse-brain, Flintpaw,” he meowed. “We’ll never get finished that way.”
Flintpaw let out a yowl and hurled himself at Nightpaw. “I’m a WindClan warrior!” he screeched. The two apprentices wrestled together in the midst of the discarded bedding; Blackpaw, Clawpaw, and Fernpaw joined in with joyous mews, scattering moss everywhere.
Yellowfang wondered if she needed to intervene, but she realized that Nightpaw, who was the smallest of the apprentices, was giving as good as he got, and the squabbling was basically good-natured. A moment later Hollyflower, who was Blackpaw’s, Flintpaw’s, and Fernpaw’s mother, strode across the clearing, grabbed Flintpaw by the scruff, and heaved him out of the fight. The other apprentices sat up with moss all over their pelts and identical disappointed expressions.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Hollyflower demanded. “Clear this mess up right now, and get it all out of camp. If you don’t finish the elders’ bedding, there’ll be no battle training later. I’ll speak to your mentors myself.”
The threat was enough to send the apprentices scurrying to gather up the scattered moss and begin hauling it toward the tunnel. Hollyflower watched until she was sure they were all working, then turned toward the fresh-kill pile.
Lizardstripe was just finishing off a blackbird; her ears twitched as the apprentices bundled past her. “You must be glad your kits are out of your paws and you can return to warrior duties,” she remarked to Hollyflower.
Hollyflower sighed, gazing after the apprentices, who were heading into the tunnel with their burden of moss. “But I miss them so much! They don’t seem to need me at all now.”
Lizardstripe grimaced as if she had accidentally taken a mouthful of crow-food. “Didn’t you feel trapped while you were in the nursery? Missing patrols, and the chance to hunt for your Clan?”
Yellowfang saw Hollyflower’s puzzled expression. “Why would I feel trapped? Having kits to raise as warriors is the duty of every queen.”
“Don’t you think that’s unfair?” Lizardstripe protested. “Toms can hunt and fight all their lives, and still have kits for the Clan.”
Hollyflower reached out with her tail to give Lizardstripe a friendly flick on the shoulder. “I think that’s tough on the toms! Wait until you’re expecting kits, Lizardstripe, then you’ll feel differently.”
“Actually, I don’t.” Lizardstripe sniffed.
Hollyflower let out an excited squeal. “Oh, Lizardstripe, you’re expecting kits! That’s fabulous! Are they Mudclaw’s?”
Lizardstripe nodded; Yellowfang didn’t think she’d ever seen a prospective mother looking so unenthusiastic.
“You’re probably just nervous,” Hollyflower reassured her. “Having kits will change your life!”
“But I don’t want my life to change,” Lizardstripe meowed with a lash of her tail. “I like my life the way it is now. All I ever wanted was to be a warrior, protecting my Clan.”
“Well, you’ll be a warrior again, once your kits become apprentices,” Hollyflower pointed out.
Her reasonable tones seemed to annoy Lizardstripe even more. “Six moons in the nursery? I’ll go mad!” she exclaimed.
“You’ll be fine, and so will your kits,” Hollyflower promised, seeming unable to believe that Lizardstripe really meant what she said. “We have two medicine cats now, don’t forget!”
With an angry shrug of her shoulders Lizardstripe got up and stalked across the camp toward the warriors’ den. Staring at her, Yellowfang realized that her belly did look swollen, a little more than her own.
Two litters, neither of them wanted.
The thought made her wince. Oh, kits, I do want you, she told the tiny lives growing in her belly. But things are going to be complicated.
Yellowfang wished that she could talk to Lizardstripe, to confide in her about her worries, and share the experience of having kits for the first time. But Yellowfang’s secret was one she would have to bear alone. Besides, she and Lizardstripe had never been friends.
And I certainly can’t tell Raggedpelt. He’s made it clear that my decision to become a full medicine cat means I can have nothing to do with him.
At that moment she spotted the tabby tom, hurrying from the warriors’ den to Cedarstar’s. She wasn’t sure if he had seen her; he certainly didn’t acknowledge her.
“Yellowfang, why are you standing there as if you’re half-asleep?”
Yellowfang jumped as Sagewhisker bustled out of the den behind her. “We have to check Littlebird’s cough,” the medicine cat went on, “and bring some ointment of yarrow to Stonetooth for his cracked pads. And you promised to take Cloudpelt into the forest again. It’s too soon for him to be out unless there’s an experienced cat to keep an eye on him.”
“Sorry, Sagewhisker,” Yellowfang mewed. “I’ll see to the elders, and then find Cloudpelt.” She set off for the elders’ den, feeling utterly weary, her paws dragging as if they were made of stone.
Sagewhisker padded after her. “Don’t forget the ointment of yarrow,” she prompted. Her eyes narrowed and she studied Yellowfang more closely. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You’ve been very tired recently. Medicine cats do get ill themselves, you know.”
Panic stabbed into Yellowfang at the thought of Sagewhisker finding out the truth. What would she do? Strip me of being a medicine cat? Exile me from the Clan? This is my home, and my life!
“No, I’m fine,” Yellowfang replied, trying to put a spring in her step as she headed for the elders’ den. Even if they’re grumpy and difficult with leaf-bare setting in, it’s my duty to care for them, and I’ll do that—for as long as I’m allowed.