“I don’t have time for idle gossip,” Yellowfang snorted. “Why are you standing there like an uneaten bit of fresh-kill, instead of sorting the comfrey from the foxgloves?”
Runningpaw sniffed as he gave her an injured look, but yowls from the clearing outside interrupted any reply he was about to make. Looking out between the boulders, Yellowfang saw cats bursting through the thorns, and recognized Lizardstripe’s border patrol. A single glance told her that some of the cats had been badly scratched.
“Bring cobweb and marigold,” she ordered Runningpaw, then bounded to meet the wounded cats in the center of the clearing.
Raggedstar and Foxheart emerged from the leader’s den and raced to join the others. “What happened?” Raggedstar demanded.
“Rats attacked us near the Carrionplace,” Lizardstripe panted. Her fur was bristling and blood dripped from a scratch on her belly.
“And we weren’t even hunting them!” Wolfstep added indignantly.
While Lizardstripe described in more detail what had happened, Yellowfang and Runningpaw started to treat the wounds. Wolfstep had a torn ear, but it had already stopped bleeding; Yellowfang licked it clean, then gave him a marigold leaf to rub on it.
“Look at this bite,” Runningpaw mewed, beckoning Yellowfang over to Tangleburr. “I think it might get infected.”
Yellowfang nodded as she examined the bite on Tangleburr’s shoulder. “That’s always a risk with rat bites. Tangleburr, wait for me in my den, and I’ll find you some burdock root.”
“Thanks, Yellowfang.” The young she-cat limped off.
Yellowfang padded over to Lizardstripe. “I need to see that scratch on your belly,” she told her.
Lizardstripe flicked her tail. “Not now. Can’t you see I’m talking to Raggedstar?”
Suit yourself, Yellowfang thought. Bleed all over the camp. See if I care.
While she was checking Brackenfoot and Fernshade, more cats appeared at the entrance to the camp. Yellowfang looked up to see Brokentail and his hunting patrol, laden with prey.
Brokentail, carrying a huge pigeon, padded up to the group in the middle of the clearing. “What’s going on?” he asked, dropping the dead bird.
“Rats attacked us near the Carrionplace,” Fernshade told him, while Wolfstep exclaimed, “Great catch, Brokentail!”
“Yeah, I climbed a tree to get it,” Brokentail mewed casually, then turned to Raggedstar. “How long are we going to put up with these rats?” he demanded with a lash of his tail. “We need to teach them a lesson!”
“What do you suggest?” Raggedstar prompted.
Yellowfang remembered the doomed attack on Carrionplace seasons before, when Cedarstar had lost a life. Please, StarClan, not that again!
“We can’t fight all the rats,” Brokentail told Raggedstar. “We don’t know how many there are. Instead, we should single out a few of them and kill them in view of the others, as a warning.”
Yellowfang heard a few doubtful murmurs from the cats surrounding Brokentail, but others were nodding in agreement.
“It might be worth a try,” Fernshade murmured.
“Right,” Foxheart meowed. “We tried ambushing them with a mass attack, and it didn’t work. Perhaps this is the only way.”
Raggedstar looked thoughtful, then straightened up. “Brokentail, come with me to my den. We’ll discuss this in more detail.” He led the way across the camp with Brokentail padding at his shoulder. Foxheart followed them.
Yellowfang sent Runningpaw back to the den to prepare a burdock root poultice for Tangleburr. Meanwhile she managed to persuade Lizardstripe to let her look at the scratch. By now it had stopped bleeding. Relieved that she didn’t have to do more, Yellowfang gave Lizardstripe some marigold and sent her to rest in the warriors’ den.
Tangleburr was just leaving when Yellowfang got back to her den, the burdock root poultice securely in place. “Let me have another look at that tomorrow,” Yellowfang told her.
Tangleburr thanked her and went off with a wave of her tail.
“That poultice was a neat bit of work,” Yellowfang told Runningpaw. “Now we need to sort out some herbs for this battle with the rats.”
Runningpaw gulped. “You mean we’ll be in the battle?”
“No, but we’ll be nearby. If there are injuries, we can treat them on the spot. Get out more marigold, and some chervil, and we’d better have burdock root too.”
“I heard about the last battle with the rats,” Runningpaw mewed as he began uncovering the herb stores. He gave Yellowfang a look in which excitement mingled with nervousness. “What do you think will happen this time?”
“I don’t know,” Yellowfang responded grimly, “but I’m not happy about our chances. There are just too many rats.” Padding over to the thornbush to unhook some cobwebs, she realized that their stocks were low. “I’m going out to get some more of this,” she told Runningpaw. “Make leaf wraps of those herbs so we can carry them easily.”
Once out of the camp, Yellowfang headed for a nearby oak tree that was covered with ivy, a perfect place for gathering cobwebs. As she stretched up to reach them, a voice spoke behind her.
“Do you need any help with that?”
Yellowfang turned to see Nightpelt. He began clawing cobwebs down and collecting them in a ball at the foot of the tree. “This is for the rat battle, right?” he mewed.
Yellowfang nodded.
“You know I won’t be taking part?” Nightpelt went on quietly. “I’ve decided to join the elders.”
Yellowfang stopped gathering cobwebs to gaze at him, sadness welling up inside her. “I’m so sorry that I was never able to cure you,” she mewed.
Nightpelt started to speak, broke off to cough, then continued, “It’s not your fault. I know you tried. I just wish StarClan would tell me why they made this my destiny!” He let out a long sigh. “I wanted to be a great warrior!”
“And you are,” Yellowfang assured him. “But your Clan needs you to be safe and well more than they need your hunting skills. You can still be part of the life of the Clan. Try telling Littlebird she’s less important than she used to be!”
Nightpelt nodded, but Yellowfang could see that she hadn’t managed to chase the depression from his eyes.
Dawn was breaking as the ShadowClan cats gathered around Raggedstar in the center of the clearing. Gray clouds covered the sky and a thin sleet was falling. Yellowfang shivered as she and Runningpaw joined the back of the crowd.
“This is the plan,” Raggedstar meowed, raising his voice so that all the Clan could hear. “Two cats—that’s Foxheart and me—will draw the rats out by pretending to hunt at the edge of Carrionplace. Brokentail, Cloudpelt, Blackfoot, and Finchflight will lie in wait to jump out and circle the first few rats to appear. Brokentail will give the signal. Brackenfoot, Newtspeck, Clawface, Fernshade, and Scorchwind, you will hold back any other rats so they can watch while we kill their denmates.” His gaze swept around the warriors. “Any questions?”
No cat responded. Brokentail’s eyes were gleaming.
“Then let’s go!” Raggedstar yowled.
Yellowfang and Runningpaw picked up their supplies and followed the patrol as the Clan leader led the way out of camp. Yellowfang spotted Nightpelt watching them with the other elders outside their den. You’re better off out of this, she thought, though she understood how disappointed the young cat must feel, seeing his Clanmates go off to battle without him.
As the Carrionplace loomed into sight, Yellowfang flinched at the familiar stink and the shrieks of the white birds that flapped over the heaps of Twoleg garbage. She began to brace herself to block out the pain of the wounds that would inevitably come. I am whole and well, I have no injuries, I feel no pain.