“I don’t want my Clanmates eating your herbs!” Raggedstar’s eyes widened in shock and anger. “They should have fresh-kill!”
As he was speaking, movement by the entrance caught Yellowfang’s eye, and Brokentail plunged into the clearing. Blood spattered his muzzle and his eyes shone with triumph.
“Excellent training session,” he announced, bounding up to Raggedstar and Yellowfang. “Rowanberry and Stumpytail cornered the dogs before they were halfway to the border!”
The two dog-hunters had followed him into the camp, panting and exhausted but clearly very pleased with themselves. The other three warriors staggered into the camp; Yellowfang was shocked to see how bedraggled and battered they looked. Deerfoot was limping, Blackfoot’s shoulder was bleeding, and Tangleburr had a lump of fur missing from her side.
They must have been the dogs, Yellowfang thought. They’ve certainly had the worst of it.
“Next time, you’ll run faster!” Brokentail told them. “Now, clean yourselves up and get back to the training area. I need you to practice your defense moves.”
“They can rest first, I think,” Raggedstar meowed.
“And I ought to check those wounds,” Yellowfang added.
Brokentail stared at Raggedstar. “Rest?” He sounded surprised. “We can’t stop a battle just because we get tired! I said they can clean themselves up; then we’ll continue.”
“What about the hunting patrols?” Raggedstar prompted.
“Don’t worry,” Brokentail assured him cheerfully. “I’ve sent some cats off to find fresh-kill. That’s if they haven’t scared all the prey into hiding!”
Yellowfang gazed at Brokentail. You have so much ambition, so much drive to make your Clanmates as strong and fearless as you, she thought. I wonder where your spirit comes from. Is it partly from me?
Yellowfang was putting away a fresh supply of dock leaves when Runningnose padded up behind her and touched her shoulder with his tail.
“Have you forgotten it’s the half-moon? We should be on our way to the Moonstone.”
Yellowfang blinked at him in confusion. “There’s so much to do here, it slipped my mind,” she confessed.
Runningnose gave her shoulder a brief stroke. “I’ll stay behind and get on with the work, if you like,” he offered. “I don’t mind missing the meeting for once.”
Yellowfang pushed her nose into his shoulder fur, grateful for his sensitivity. “I’m sure it will be routine,” she mewed. “I haven’t heard anything from the other medicine cats lately.”
With a quick farewell, Yellowfang headed out of the camp and across the forest to the tunnel that led into WindClan territory. Emerging from the other end, she bounded over the tough moorland grass, suddenly anxious that she would be late and miss the moment when light poured down onto the Moonstone. She was relieved to spot Featherwhisker of ThunderClan and Brambleberry of RiverClan padding ahead of her, and picked up her pace to catch up to them. Brambleberry had a younger cat with her who was a stranger to Yellowfang.
“This is Mudpaw, my new apprentice,” she announced proudly when she had greeted Yellowfang.
Yellowfang dipped her head to the young tom. “Welcome to the company of medicine cats.”
“Thank you.” Mudpaw’s eyes shone. “I can’t believe I’m going to meet our ancestors!”
“I should have an apprentice of my own next time,” Featherwhisker announced. “Spottedkit will be Spottedpaw by then. She’s always poking about my stores; I think she’s going to be a great medicine cat!”
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Brambleberry mewed.
At the far side of the territory Hawkheart and his apprentice, Barkpaw, were waiting, and all the medicine cats traveled on together. They trekked through the farm, where a young black-and-white tom watched them from his perch on top of a wall. Yellowfang recognized him from her last visit to Highstones. He’d recently arrived there and was friendly enough to the passing Clan cats.
“Hi, Barley,” Hawkheart meowed. “Settling in okay?”
Barley dipped his head. “Everything’s fine, thanks, Hawkheart. The old barn is crawling with mice! You can all stop and eat if you like.”
“Thanks, but we don’t have time,” Featherwhisker told him. “Maybe on the way back.”
The two apprentices were walking side by side. There was a bounce in Mudpaw’s step, as if his paws were itching to run flat out to the hills.
“What’s it like, meeting a StarClan cat?” he asked Barkpaw. “What do you say to them?”
“It’s different for every cat,” Barkpaw told him. “But don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
“And do you only meet with cats from your own Clan?” Mudpaw went on. “Yellowfang, do you only see ShadowClan cats?”
Yellowfang shook her head, suppressing a shudder at the thought of some of the cats she had walked with in her dreams. “You might see more of your own Clan than others,” she replied to the eager young cat. “But not always. There’s no telling who you’ll meet in StarClan.”
Mudpaw’s eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait!”
In the cavern of the Moonstone Yellowfang found it was a bit of a squeeze for all six cats to get into position. As she settled herself she was a bit disconcerted to see Featherwhisker deliberately wriggle between her and Hawkheart.
Why does he want to be next to me? For once he hasn’t been asking his annoying questions, so what’s on his mind now? Does he think he’ll get to walk in my dreams?
The long walk had tired Yellowfang, and she relaxed as she closed her eyes. But her relief was short-lived. Darkness swirled around her like black fog, torn apart by slashing claws and tumbling, shrieking bodies. Yellowfang was in the middle of a terrible battle, choking on air that was thick with blood and fury. But there was something different about these warriors… Yellowfang loomed over them, taller by more than a mouse-length. And their shrieks were high-pitched, as piercing as rat squeals.
These were not warriors fighting, but kits!
Yellowfang stared down at the tiny mewling things, some with their eyes still closed, but when their little paws struck they left gouges that spilled with blood, and their puny teeth sank deep into one another’s fur.
Oh, StarClan, no! Yellowfang wailed silently. Why are you showing me this?
She plunged into the battle, trying to stop the kits from tearing one another apart, but they ignored her and kept on ripping and biting. Blood flowed over the ground and rose up around Yellowfang’s legs and belly like a river, clinging to her pelt.
A screech sounded behind her and she whipped around to see Molepelt, standing on a mound of earth above the battle and blood.
“Fire and blood will destroy the Clans!” he yowled.
Yellowfang tried to fight her way toward him but the tide of battling kits swept her away. Blood gurgled in her throat and thick, choking darkness covered her.
Yellowfang crouched, trembling in darkness and silence. She forced her eyes open, expecting to find herself back in the cavern of the Moonstone. Instead she was curled up in a starlit glade. A soft breeze whispered in the grass, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh green growth. Silverflame was licking her fur, as if Yellowfang were a kit once more, with her pelt ruffled from playing with her littermates.
For a couple of heartbeats Yellowfang surrendered herself to Silverflame’s gentle care. Then she whispered, “The kits! They were fighting! Why?”
Silverflame looked at her with eyes full of grief. “Terrible times are coming,” she mewed. “I’m so sorry.”