“StarClan knows,” her mate responded with a twitch of his whiskers. “If he’s not careful, there’ll be more of us out there than in camp.”
“Just watch what you say!” Tangleburr hissed beside him. “Don’t go asking for trouble. Brokenstar hears everything!”
The crowd of cats began to break up, and the new mentors led their apprentices out for the tour of the borders. The little cats weren’t as excited as new apprentices usually were because they had already left the camp to practice their battle moves, but they might be more impressed when they realized how far ShadowClan stretched.
As Yellowfang watched them go, she realized that Brightflower had padded up to her side. The she-cat looked excited but apprehensive, her whiskers quivering. “Brackenfoot and I are expecting kits!” she announced.
Yellowfang wished she could be as thrilled as usual at the prospect of new kits for the Clan, but this time all she could do was stare at her mother as a wave of despair washed over her.
“May StarClan help you all,” she whispered.
Chapter 38
Brokenstar stood on top of the Great Rock with the bare branches of the oaks at Fourtrees creaking over his head. A cold wind drove shreds of cloud across the sky where the full moon shone fitfully. Blackfoot sat at the foot of the rock, with Russetfur, Stumpytail, Brownpaw, and Brackenfoot huddled together close by. Brightflower hadn’t come to the Gathering this time because her kits were almost ready to be born.
Yellowfang sat with the other medicine cats, though she no longer felt at ease among them. Had StarClan told them in their dreams what was going on in ShadowClan? Her own dreams of StarClan were limited to visions of blood and death, of battles between cats too young to open their eyes. If these were omens, ShadowClan was doomed—and it seemed that she could do nothing to help. Yellowfang listened apprehensively as her Clan leader began his report.
“ShadowClan is stronger than ever,” Brokenstar announced with triumph in his eyes. “We have been challenged on each border, but have won in every battle!” His gaze raked across the cats in the clearing below. “Let all Clans know that we will tolerate no trespassing, no prey-stealing, no dishonor.” He narrowed his eyes, as if he was defying any of the cats to comment. “And we have a new apprentice: Badgerpaw,” he finished.
Yellowfang watched Badgerpaw rise to his paws beside his mentor, Flintfang. The black-and-white tom held his head high, but he still looked tiny.
He’s barely three moons old!
“Badgerpaw! Badgerpaw!”
The other ShadowClan apprentices cheered loudly beside their Clanmate, though Yellowfang couldn’t help thinking about how small they looked beside the apprentices from the other Clans. Her belly clenched with the memory of grief. One ShadowClan apprentice was missing since the last Gathering: Volepaw had died of an infected wound from a fight with rats.
Brokenstar makes a rat fight part of every apprentice’s training now. Is he mad?
As the cheers for Badgerpaw died away, Barkface leaned over and whispered into Yellowfang’s ear. “Tell me that apprentice is old enough to start training!” His voice was taut, and there was disapproval in his gaze.
Spottedleaf, the new ThunderClan medicine cat, opened her eyes wide with anxiety. “No cat would train kits younger than six moons, would they?”
“StarClan wouldn’t allow that, surely?” Barkface added.
“It would be completely against the warrior code,” Mudfur declared.
There was weight in the tone of all the medicine cats, suggesting that Yellowfang should do something to stop the training of kits.
How can I admit that I’m powerless when it comes to influencing Brokenstar? she thought with an irritable flick of her ears. “Brokenstar knows what he’s doing,” she mewed aloud, turning her back on the other medicine cats. “It’s none of your business.”
She could hear them muttering about what a dreadful temper she had, but she ignored them. There’s no way I can defend Brokenstar, so it’s better that I don’t speak to them at all.
Yellowfang had given up hoping that her Clanmates would stand up to their leader. Brokenstar had convinced them that every living creature was their enemy, and his cats would do anything, even surrender their own kits, to keep their Clan safe. And the elders, whose wisdom had once been so important in guiding the Clan, were still exiled in the marshes.
He has complete power now! Great StarClan, is there nothing any cat can do?
At the end of the Gathering, Brokenstar swept away from Fourtrees at the head of his Clan. Badgerpaw was pattering along beside him, his eyes still full of excitement at seeing the other Clans for the first time. Walking behind them, Yellowfang was able to overhear their conversation.
“You’ll be able to fight in your first real battle soon,” Brokenstar promised the apprentice. “You’ve been training for half a moon, so you’re ready.”
“Really?” Badgerpaw gasped.
Brokenstar nodded. “I’ve scented traces of WindClan on our territory, so we will attack at dawn! Those rabbit-eaters will soon discover they can’t set paw in ShadowClan territory and get away with it.”
Ready to burst with excitement and pride, Badgerpaw darted off to his mentor, Flintfang. “I’m going to fight!” he announced, dancing along beside the powerful gray tom. “Brokenstar said! I’ll use that two-pawed move you taught me, and the leap-and-scratch…”
Flintfang gazed down at him. “Just remember everything I’ve taught you, and that there’s no shame in losing your first battle,” he meowed. His tone was heavy, and Yellowfang wondered just how keen he was to lead his tiny apprentice into a hostile Clan.
Fernshade, who was walking beside Yellowfang, looked fondly across at Badgerpaw. “I’m so proud of him!” she exclaimed. “I thought I’d never manage to give birth to him, and he’s everything to me. And now he’s going to be a true ShadowClan warrior!”
Yellowfang drew a breath to speak, but bit back the words. He shouldn’t even be an apprentice yet!
Yellowfang crouched in the prickly grass, listening to the sounds of the skirmish with WindClan that came from the far side of the Thunderpath. The sun shone brightly over her head and branches in the fresh green of newleaf rustled at the edge of the forest.
This is not a day when cats should die.
Paw steps sounded behind Yellowfang and she turned her head to see Nightpelt approaching with the limp body of a vole in his jaws. In spite of the elders’ exile, the young black cat looked settled and confident. Yellowfang knew he had found a purpose in life, doing most of the hunting for his companions, keeping up their spirits when they were far from the camp where they had expected to live out their days.
Nightpelt set down his prey and sat beside Yellowfang, his ears pricked as he listened to the screeches and thuds from the battle. “How long will this continue, do you think?” he murmured.
“Until every cat is dead,” Yellowfang replied bitterly, “either here or in WindClan.”
“Why does StarClan let Brokenstar do it?” Nightpelt asked.
“Perhaps they are proud of him,” Yellowfang responded. I have begged StarClan for reasons, but they ignore me. They have abandoned us to wherever Brokenstar leads. “After all,” she went on out loud, “ShadowClan is the strongest and most feared of all the Clans now.”
Nightpelt shook his head. “I cannot believe our ancestors would find any glory in this constant bloodshed.” With a deep sigh, he picked up his prey and headed for the elders’ den in the copse.