“I hope it’s not too soon,” Yellowfang muttered. It’s okay to be anxious. I’m a medicine cat!
“They’ll be fine,” Brightflower assured her. “It’s such a beautiful day.”
Several cats had gathered around the nursery to see the kits come out. Rowanberry was there with Nutwhisker and Russetfur, while Ashheart and Wolfstep stood a little farther off. All three elders watched from the entrance to their den.
Deerkit and Tanglekit bounced into the open first, only to halt and gaze around them, their eyes wide with curiosity. Runningkit, who was the smallest of the litter, followed them more slowly, pausing in the nursery entrance while he sniffed several times. Then he suddenly decided to join his brother and sister, dashing out into the clearing and stumbling over his own paws.
Murmurs of admiration and amusement arose from the cats watching, and more of the Clan strolled up. Mudclaw joined Lizardstripe, who was licking a paw and drawing it over her ears, her eyes glinting as she heard the Clan praising her kits.
Maybe she’ll be proud of them after all, Yellowfang thought, staying at the back of the crowd as she looked for Brokenkit.
He tumbled out of the nursery a heartbeat later and stood blinking in the sunlight, his dark tabby pelt bristling. Even though he was slightly younger, he was just as big as the others.
“He’s a fine kit,” Yellowfang heard Mousewing commenting.
Deerleap nodded. “He should make a strong warrior one day.”
Yellowfang wanted to enjoy the praise of her kit, even though she couldn’t acknowledge it, but there was no real warmth in the warriors’ words. They don’t like the fact that no cat knows who his mother is.
Amberleaf padded up a moment later. “Does he look like a rogue to you?” she whispered, confirming Yellowfang’s suspicions. “If Foxheart is his mother, why not say so?”
Mousewing muttered agreement. “I wouldn’t have said he’s half kittypet, but then look at his father. Remember what they said about Raggedpelt when he was born.”
Not wanting to hear any more, Yellowfang turned to leave. But Littlebird padded up and stopped her.
“You haven’t come to see me for a while,” she mewed.
Yellowfang fought with guilt. She had deliberately avoided the elder in case Littlebird realized she was expecting kits. “I’ve been busy,” she replied.
“Too busy for your old friends?” Littlebird pressed. Beckoning Yellowfang with a flick of her ears, she led the way to a sunny spot away from the other cats, and settled down with her paws tucked underneath her. “Lots of kits,” she commented. “Good for the Clan, but not so good in leaf-bare.”
“Lizardstripe seems to be managing,” Yellowfang pointed out. The elder’s eyes were slitted against the sunlight, but Yellowfang still felt as if Littlebird was scrutinizing her.
“What about that extra kit?” Littlebird prompted. “Where do you think his mother is?”
Yellowfang looked away. “I have no idea. As long as Lizardstripe is willing to raise him, does it matter?”
“I think every kit deserves to know where they come from,” Littlebird meowed. “I would have thought Raggedpelt would believe that more than most.”
Yellowfang suddenly grew tired of the hints and comments. “Well, it’s none of our business!” she snapped.
“You’re a medicine cat,” Littlebird commented in surprise. “Everything the Clan does is your business.”
“But perhaps some secrets are best kept,” Yellowfang whispered.
Chapter 27
The half-moon appeared fitfully through scattered clouds as Yellowfang toiled up the last slope toward Mothermouth. The other medicine cats were already waiting for her in the entrance to the tunnel. Yellowfang approached them nervously, worried that their experienced eyes would be able to detect signs of her recent kitting. I wish Sagewhisker had been able to come instead of me. But Sagewhisker was suffering from pains in her legs and deep inside her belly, so severe that Yellowfang had to struggle to block them out. The journey to Highstones would be too much for her, and Yellowfang wondered if the old medicine cat would ever travel there again.
But there was no need for Yellowfang to feel nervous. When she padded up to her fellow medicine cats their greetings were friendly, except for Goosefeather, who was muttering into his chest fur as usual, hardly aware of his surroundings.
“You look tired,” Brambleberry mewed to Yellowfang. “Is there sickness in ShadowClan?”
Yellowfang shrugged, trying not to show how relieved she was that Brambleberry had given her an excuse for her weariness. “Just the usual leaf-bare stuff,” she replied. “Nothing we can’t cope with.”
“That’s good to hear,” Featherwhisker murmured, with that oddly curious look that Yellowfang knew well. “And everything else is going well for ShadowClan?”
“Everything’s fine,” Yellowfang told him. “Isn’t it time we were heading for the Moonstone?”
“We know that!” Goosefeather snapped at her. “Young cats, think they have to teach their elders to eat mice…” He lapsed into his mumbling again.
“Come on, Goosefeather,” Brambleberry meowed kindly, laying her tail on the old cat’s shoulders. “Let’s you and I lead the way.” She padded into the tunnel with Goosefeather by her side.
Wanting to avoid any more of Featherwhisker’s probing questions, Yellowfang fell into step beside Hawkheart, leaving the second ThunderClan medicine cat to bring up the rear.
“How are you finding life as a medicine cat?” Hawkheart asked her. “It took me a while to forget that I wasn’t a warrior anymore.”
“Me too,” Yellowfang agreed, remembering the battle with the rats.
“It helps if I remember that I’m more use to my Clan where I am now,” Hawkheart went on, his voice warm and friendly in the darkness. “Every cat has the potential to be a warrior, but only a few of us can be medicine cats.”
“That’s true,” Yellowfang acknowledged.
“When I look at a wounded cat,” Hawkheart went on, “I try to imagine how the wound was caused. That’s often a help in knowing the best treatment.”
“Oh, I get that!” Yellowfang meowed, beginning to relax and enjoy the talk. “Like, whether it was teeth or claws or a sharp bit of a branch.”
“Right,” Hawkheart agreed. “Sometimes—” He broke off.
Ahead of them, Goosefeather had halted suddenly, and Yellowfang had to take a pace back to avoid bumping into him. I’d never hear the end of it if I did!
Hawkheart stumbled into her, thrown off balance by the sudden change in direction. “Sorry,” he muttered, then added, “Is that parsley I can smell on you?”
Yellowfang’s belly clenched. She had forgotten that she might be carrying the scent of the herb she used to dry up her milk. Mouse dung! I should have rolled in some ferns or something on the way here to hide the scent.
“I’m surprised you still have stocks of that in leaf-bare,” Hawkheart continued as they set off again down the passage.
Yellowfang couldn’t think what to say. “I guess we’re lucky,” she mewed after a moment. “I found a sheltered clump just the other day.”
She sent a silent prayer of thanks to StarClan that they reached the cave of the Moonstone at that moment. The moon was already shining through the hole in the roof, waking a frosty light in the heart of the stone. There was no more time for talking. Yellowfang closed her eyes and leaned her muzzle against the cool surface of the crystal. Every muscle in her body ached with fatigue. Sagewhisker and I would never let a queen leave the camp so soon after kitting! Gratefully she sank into sleep.