A cough sounded behind Yellowfang. Startled, she turned to see that Nightpelt had emerged from the elders’ den. He was looking strained; his cough always troubled him more when the cold weather started to set in.
“I thought I’d go for a walk,” Yellowfang meowed. “Do you want to come?”
The black tom nodded and fell in beside her. The two cats slipped through the brambles, past Mousewing on guard, and padded into the trees. Yellowfang heaved a contented sigh as she gazed around at the territory, caught like crystal in the silver dawn. The trees and bushes were white with frost and every puddle was rimmed with ice that glittered in the growing light.
I’m so glad this is my home.
“I trained here once with Flintpaw and Clawpaw,” Nightpelt mewed as they reached a thicket of dense bushes. “Flintpaw ran into a bees’ nest in that tree over there—I’ve never heard a cat yowl so loud!”
“I remember,” Yellowfang responded; she had used up most of her stocks of dock leaves treating the young cat’s stings. “He was very brave about the pain.”
Nightpelt nodded. “He’d only just healed when he convinced us to go fishing in the stream near the big ash tree. We all came back soaking wet, and we didn’t catch a thing.”
“And Stonetooth told you to leave fishing to RiverClan,” Yellowfang recalled. “You and your denmates were always causing trouble!” She padded on a few paw steps, then asked, “Do you mind not being a warrior anymore?”
Nightpelt paused before replying. “I am still a warrior inside,” he mewed at last. “I have the same spirit, the same loyalty to my Clan. I hope that one day I will find new ways to prove this, besides warrior duties.”
“I’m sure you’ll never stop finding ways to prove your love for ShadowClan,” Yellowfang told him, touching him lightly on the shoulder with her tail-tip.
As they headed back toward the camp, they met a patrol on their way out. Stumpytail and Tangleburr were bounding in the lead, closely followed by Rowanberry, Blackfoot, and Deerfoot. Brokentail brought up the rear.
“Are you going hunting?” Yellowfang called.
“No, this is battle training,” Stumpytail announced, his whiskers quivering with excitement. “Brokentail has asked us to be dogs, and chase our Clanmates through the forest.”
Yellowfang blinked. “Doesn’t the Clan need feeding first?”
Deerfoot flicked his tail. “They can wait. It’s not like we’ll be long.”
Yellowfang and Nightpelt watched the patrol as it charged off through the trees.
“I’m going to climb a tree!” Stumpytail meowed. “Then I’ll jump down on the dogs and shred them!”
“But we’ll be too fast for you,” Tangleburr countered. “So you can stay up your tree until you freeze!”
“Brokentail has really inspired them,” Nightpelt commented as he and Yellowfang went on toward the camp. “The next cats to trespass on our territory won’t spend long on the wrong side of the border.”
Yellowfang nodded. “The Clan is certainly strong at the moment.” She sensed they were both being careful about what they said. Brokentail’s methods can sometimes be harsh; I’m sure Nightpelt would agree with me on that. The silence hung heavily between them as they pushed through the brambles into the camp.
As soon as they emerged into the clearing, Featherstorm came dashing toward them from the nursery. “Oh, Yellowfang, thank StarClan you’re back!” she exclaimed. “Volekit has started coughing.”
“I’ll come and look at him right away,” Yellowfang mewed.
She could hear the kit’s persistent cough as she slid through the entrance to the nursery. Volekit was squatting in his bedding, a miserable bundle of fur, his tiny body shaken by coughs. His two littermates looked on with wide, anxious eyes.
Yellowfang placed a paw on his chest and felt feverish heat striking through her pads. “How long has he been like this?” she asked Featherstorm.
“It came on in the night,” the she-cat replied. “How bad is it, Yellowfang? Is it whitecough?”
“I don’t think so,” Yellowfang meowed. “I’ll bring him a tansy leaf. That should do the trick.” Stroking the tiny tom’s brown pelt, she added, “You’ll feel better soon, little kit.”
On her way out of the nursery she paused beside Newtspeck, whose young litter—their eyes not open yet—was huddled into the curve of her belly. “If I were you, I’d keep the little ones away from Volekit until his cough clears up,” she advised.
Newtspeck nodded and curled her tail protectively around her kits.
On her way back from delivering the tansy leaf, Yellowfang was hailed by Hollyflower from the entrance to the elders’ den. “Poolcloud’s joints are aching,” she announced when the medicine cat padded up. “Do you have anything for her?”
Yellowfang nodded. “I’ll bring her a poultice of daisy leaves,” she replied. “And a poppy seed to help her sleep.”
But before she fetched the herbs, Yellowfang poked her head into the warriors’ den to make sure Frogtail was resting, and beckoned to Amberleaf, who was gathering up soiled bedding. “Come with me,” Yellowfang ordered. “It’s time I renewed that dressing on your ear.” Amberleaf had torn her ear in a training exercise and the wound had been reluctant to heal.
Amberleaf sighed as she rose to her paws. “Okay, Yellowfang. When can I return to warrior duties?”
“When I’m satisfied that ear isn’t infected,” Yellowfang retorted.
When she peeled off the wrapping of cobweb and goldenrod leaves, she was pleased to see that Amberleaf’s wound looked clean and healthy. “You don’t need another poultice,” she commented as she rubbed the scratch with marigold. “You can go back to your duties tomorrow provided it’s no worse.”
“Great!” Amberleaf meowed. “I think if I have to take one more tick off the elders I’ll go mad as a fox in a fit.”
Yellowfang sent her away and collected the daisy leaves and the poppy seed for Poolcloud. At the entrance to the elders’ den she met Runningnose, staggering under the weight of a huge bundle of dripping moss.
“I don’t want the elders to get their paws wet by the stream,” he explained, mumbling around his burden. “Their bedding needs changing, too.”
“Hasn’t Brokentail put any cat on apprentice duties?” Yellowfang asked.
Runningnose shook his head. “No, they’re all out battle training. Except for Amberleaf, and she’s stuck doing the warriors’ bedding all on her own.”
Yellowfang sighed. Runningnose shouldn’t have to work so hard when he’s no younger or less experienced than the other warriors. “Never mind,” she meowed. “I’ll help you with the elders’ nests as soon as I’ve taken care of Littlebird.”
Once Littlebird was dosed and comfortable, Yellowfang went into the forest again, her pleasure in the bright day dimmed by her anxiety about using so many herbs. She was carrying a bundle of moss and feathers across the clearing when Raggedstar padded up to her.
“Have you seen any hunting patrols?” he asked her.
Yellowfang shook her head. “As far as I know, they’re battle training first.”
The Clan leader’s amber eyes grew troubled. “There are hungry bellies in the Clan,” he mewed. “Elders, kits, and warriors all need feeding.”
You should talk to your deputy about that, not your medicine cat, Yellowfang thought. “Well, I have some traveling herbs that could take the edge off the worst hunger,” she suggested, “but I’m not sure I should use them up so soon before leaf-bare.”