“We have to send out a patrol to track it,” Blackfoot meowed.
More fearful cries came from the Clan, but Brokenstar silenced them with a flick of his tail. “I found no trace of fox anywhere near the kits.”
“Then how did they die?” Stumpytail asked.
“Yes, how?” Deerfoot echoed. “We have to know!”
Brokenstar took a step away from Yellowfang. “Only one cat knows the truth,” he meowed softly.
Brackenfoot stared at Yellowfang in horror. “Did you kill them?” he whispered.
“Of course not!” Yellowfang shrieked. In her worst nightmares she had never imagined that her own father could accuse her of something so terrible. “They were dead when I found them!”
“We have no reason to believe that Yellowfang killed them,” Brokenstar put in. “Why would she?”
“She’s been under a lot of strain recently, with all the battles,” Wolfstep pointed out.
“She said she didn’t want to treat my scratch because it was a waste of herbs!” Dawnpaw added with an indignant flourish of her tail.
“Yes, she hasn’t been herself lately,” Tangleburr meowed. “I asked her about a pain in my belly, and she practically bit my ear off.”
“But then gave you a juniper berry to take the pain away,” Runningnose reminded her, but no cat seemed to be listening.
“She acts like the whole Clan is a nuisance,” Cinderfur sniffed.
Newtspeck stepped forward with a furious hiss. “Are you seriously suggesting that Yellowfang would kill our own kits so she wouldn’t have to treat their injuries later on?”
There was a deafening silence as Yellowfang waited for her Clanmates to realize that Newtspeck was speaking sense. It was broken by a wail from Brightflower, who had just entered the camp. Russetfur and Frogtail followed, each carrying a pitiful broken scrap of fur.
Brightflower plunged at Yellowfang with a snarl. “Did you kill my kits?”
Yellowfang was frozen to the spot with horror. Before she could react, Runningnose leaped in front of her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Brightflower!” he yowled.
Brokenstar held up his tail for silence. “We will never know what happened tonight,” he meowed, his voice cracking with sorrow. “All we know is that two young kits, two promising warriors, are dead, and that Yellowfang was with them. Yellowfang, as our medicine cat, there must have been something you could have done.”
“I tried, but—” Yellowfang began to protest.
Brokenstar ignored her. “Russetfur,” he continued, “is there any evidence that she treated their wounds?”
Reluctantly Russetfur shook her head. “No, Brokenstar.”
“They were dead when I found them!” Yellowfang exclaimed. Her head was whirling. She couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, that any cat would take these crazy accusations seriously.
“Frogtail, were their bodies cold?” Brokenstar went on.
Frogtail ducked his head. “Well… no.”
Yowls of shock and hatred rose from the Clan. Rowanberry and Nutwhisker both pushed through the crowd to stand beside Yellowfang, along with Runningnose and Newtspeck, but their protests went unheard. Yellowfang knew that there was too much suspicion, too much grief over these latest deaths to expect a rational response from her Clanmates.
Brokenstar turned to face her. “Yellowfang, you cannot stay here. For your own safety, you must leave.”
“You mean, j-join the elders?” Yellowfang stammered. I could be at peace there, and still help my Clanmates if they came to me.
“No.” Brokenstar curled his lip, showing a hint of sharp yellow teeth. “I cannot protect you within this territory after what has happened. Your Clanmates are too angry over these deaths. You have to understand that I don’t want to do this, but I have no choice. I must banish you from ShadowClan.”
At his words everything became clear to Yellowfang, clear as spring water gurgling from a rock. She had threatened to speak with StarClan about what Brokenstar was doing, get him stripped of his leadership and his nine lives. And this was his way of making sure that never happened. She had made herself a problem—and he was solving it.
Yellowfang took a deep breath. Brokenstar had scared this Clan into silence for too long. Fury overwhelmed her fear. If she held her tongue any longer she betrayed all her Clanmates, including the memory of the dead kits. “This is exactly what you wanted!” she hissed. “You couldn’t have known that those kits would die, but this is your perfect opportunity to get rid of me! I am the ShadowClan medicine cat! This is where I belong!”
Blackfoot stepped forward, his voice weighty and regretful. “Not anymore, Yellowfang. Come, I’ll escort you to the border.”
He reached out his tail to rest it on her shoulder, but Yellowfang batted it away. “Get off me!” she snapped. “I’ll find my own way!”
Still dazed, she stumbled toward the entrance; her Clanmates parted to let her go.
“I’m so sorry!” Runningnose gasped, bounding alongside her. “I’ll prove it was a fox! You’ll be back soon! Come to the next half-moon Gathering!”
Yellowfang stopped at the entrance and looked at him. “Runningnose,” she meowed, “you have been a dear and loyal friend, but I cannot stay here. Not as long as Brokenstar rules. This is not the ShadowClan I pledged to serve.” Glancing at the cats clustered around the Clanrock, she added, “They are lucky to have you. May StarClan light your path, always.”
“But, Yellowfang—” Runningnose wailed.
Yellowfang couldn’t listen to him anymore. Turning, she plunged through the brambles and staggered out of the camp.
Chapter 40
Half-mad with grief and fury, Yellowfang stumbled across the territory, howling her rage to the stars. Finding herself at the edge of the marshes, she turned her paw steps away from the elders’ den.
I can’t unleash this disaster on them. They’ll find out soon enough.
At last the entrance to the tunnel that led to Fourtrees loomed up in front of Yellowfang. Forcing her paws to carry her forward, she padded into the echoing darkness. Water dripped around her, sounding unnaturally loud, and her paws slipped on the slimy tunnel floor.
After what seemed like seasons, Yellowfang spotted a pale gap in front of her and clambered out of the tunnel to see that dawn light was seeping into the sky. Her limbs heavy with exhaustion, she staggered across the last few fox-lengths of ShadowClan territory, and half scrambled, half fell into the hollow where she came to rest in the shelter of the spiky branches of a holly bush.
Yellowfang lay in the undergrowth while the morning light strengthened into a chilly, gray day. Soon a thin rain began to fall, but Yellowfang had no energy to find better shelter. She tried to sleep, but the heavy branches of the four great oaks loomed over her, rustling in a threatening way that sounded more like thunder. Yellowfang stayed where she was, too stunned to think about moving or eating, the harsh words of her Clanmates echoing over and over again in her mind. StarClan, can you see me? Do you know what Brokenstar has done now? There was no reply, no sign that her ancestors had even heard. If Yellowfang had felt alone before, that was nothing compared to her solitude now.
Eventually the dead holly leaves underneath her began to prickle through her ungroomed pelt, and she hauled herself to her paws. Night had fallen again, with barely a hint of starlight to pick out the four giant oaks. Not that it mattered to Yellowfang. If StarClan had given up on her, Fourtrees meant nothing except a place where too many cats came to crow about hollow victories every full moon. She started walking, not because she had anywhere to go, but because she was tired of staying still. Her belly growled but she felt no hunger. Maybe she would eat again one day; maybe not. She couldn’t be bothered to care.