Yellowfang’s Secret полностью

Yellowfang sighed as she plodded on toward the camp entrance. If they go on like that, they’ll only fuel the rumors that Brokenkit is Foxheart’s. I’d have chosen any other queen in the Clan to be his mother!

Emerging into the clearing, Yellowfang spotted Lizardstripe in a warm patch of sunlight near the fresh-kill pile, sharing tongues with Nettlespot and Ashheart. There was no sign of her kits. Yellowfang assumed they were in the nursery, but as she approached her den she heard shrill squeaking coming from behind it.

Peering around the boulders, she found Deerkit, Tanglekit, and Runningkit all surrounding Brokenkit, who faced them with his dark tabby fur fluffed up.

“We don’t want to play with you,” Deerkit squeaked, screwing up his nose. “You smell funny.”

“Yeah,” Tanglekit added. “Every cat says you’re a kittypet, like your father.”

“My father is not a kittypet!” Brokenkit yowled, lashing out with one paw.

Tanglekit leaped back to avoid the blow. Brokenkit was bigger and stronger than the others now. Runningkit and Deerkit shrank away from him too.

“My father is the Clan deputy; he’s the best warrior in ShadowClan!” Brokenkit spat.

“But who’s your mother?” Runningkit asked with a sniff. “Even you don’t know!”

“Yeah, she could be anyone,” Deerkit mewed. “A rogue, a kittypet, a badger! Badger-stinky! Badger-stinky!”

The other two kits joined in. “Badger-stinky!”

Yellowfang dropped her herbs and feathers and strode into the middle of the group. “Enough!” she exclaimed, glaring around at Lizardstripe’s kits. “Deerkit, Tanglekit, Runningkit, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves! How dare you treat your Clanmate like this?”

Runningkit had the grace to look ashamed, staring down at his paws and sniffling wretchedly. Deerkit and Tanglekit just looked defiant, though they didn’t dare say anything to a medicine cat.

“Brokenkit, come with me,” Yellowfang meowed. She curled her thick tail around him and swept him away.

Brokenkit stomped crossly beside her. “Now they’ll think I’m scared of them! I could have beaten them if you hadn’t turned up! They’re so weak, I don’t care if there’s three of them and only one of me!”

Yellowfang felt confused. She’d expected her kit to be grateful that she’d rescued him from the bullies. “Well, fighting isn’t the answer to everything,” she told him. “Your littermates need to learn how to behave. I’ll tell Lizardstripe and she’ll punish them.”

Brokenkit ran in front of her and turned to face her, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please don’t do that!” he begged. “Lizardstripe will only blame me! She doesn’t like me; she thinks I’m stealing milk from her kits.”

“Of course she doesn’t think that!” Yellowfang exclaimed, shocked.

“Yes, she does!” Brokenkit insisted. “I heard her saying it to Amberleaf. Nobody likes me.”

Yellowfang’s heart twisted with love and regret. “I like you,” she mewed. “And so will all your Clanmates, once they get to know you. Now, why don’t you help me collect all these herbs and feathers and carry them into my den? You’re so strong, you probably don’t need me to help you!”

Brokenkit’s chest puffed out proudly as he collected as much as he could manage, scattering a few leaves and feathers as he marched into Sagewhisker’s den.

Sagewhisker was curled in her nest. She raised her head in surprise as the kit appeared, followed by Yellowfang. “Shouldn’t he be playing with his littermates?” she asked Yellowfang.

Yellowfang knew that the old cat was giving her a warning. She didn’t reply, just showed Brokenkit where to put down his burden.

“My littermates are stupid,” Brokenkit snorted. “Yellowfang’s my friend now.”

Yellowfang could feel the heat of Sagewhisker’s gaze on her fur but refused to share the old cat’s concern or even acknowledge it. What harm am I doing? “Brokenkit, would you like to help me fetch some clean moss?”

Brokenkit nodded, bouncing on his paws. “I can carry more moss than any cat!” he boasted.

Yellowfang knew that she couldn’t take him out of the camp, but there were some pieces of bark behind the elders’ den where moss grew. She led him across the clearing, aware of some startled glances from her Clanmates.

“Now, you hold up the bark,” she instructed Brokenkit, “so I can peel the moss from underneath.”

“Like this?” Brokenkit burrowed under a piece of bark and sat up with it balanced on his head like an extra bit of pelt.

Yellowfang mrrowed with amusement. “Not quite,” she meowed. “A squirrel might think that you’re a tree and try to climb up you.”

Brokenkit let out a squeal. “I’m a tree! I’m a tree!” He jumped up and down until the bark fell off his head.

Yellowfang showed him how to hold up the bark with one paw while she gathered the moss. When they had collected a good pile they bundled it together and Brokenkit helped her carry it back to her den.