Yellowfang’s Secret полностью

“I like my name,” Boulder announced, obviously unaware that he had done anything unusual. “Can I keep it?”

The Clan leader paused for a couple of heartbeats. Finally, to Yellowfang’s surprise, he nodded. “Very well. From this time on you will be known as Boulder. Mousewing, you will be mentor to this new apprentice. I trust that you will teach him the skills he needs and the behavior expected from a Clan cat.”

The thick-furred black tom shot his apprentice a heavily disapproving look. “You can be sure of that,” he told Cedarstar.

Boulder walked over to Mousewing and touched noses with him.

“I never heard of such a thing!” Lizardfang grumbled. “Apprentices picking their own names? What’s the Clan coming to?”

Littlebird replied too softly for Yellowfang to hear, though she looked more sympathetic. But Yellowfang guessed that most of the Clan would agree with Lizardfang.

“Cedarstar, have you taken leave of your senses?” Stonetooth demanded as Cedarstar leaped down from the Clanrock. “It’s bad enough welcoming rogues into the Clan, but letting him keep his name…”

The Clan leader sighed. “You have to recognize when a battle is worth fighting,” he meowed with a touch of weariness.

Stonetooth snorted.

As the Clan began to drift out of the clearing, Yellowfang spotted Raggedpelt heading in her direction. She took a pace forward, hoping that he was going to speak to her at last. But the tabby tom brushed past her as if he didn’t even know that she was there.

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, glaring after him. She let out a small, crushed sigh. Is winning his trust a battle worth fighting? Is Raggedpelt worth all this worry?

“Look behind you, Yellowfang!” Brackenfoot’s yowl rang clearly across the training area. “You’re fighting two enemies, remember!”

Yellowfang whirled, ducking under the blow that Boulder was aiming at her, and in the same movement crashed into his side, trying to knock him over. But Boulder scrambled out of range, and then Yellowfang had to turn again and leap away as Russetpaw charged at her.

Turn and slash… leap… turn again… got you, Russetpaw!… duck… jump back… Great StarClan, these rogues are good!

Several sunrises had passed since Russetpaw and Boulder had come to ShadowClan. Brackenfoot had taken all the apprentices for a training session; Yellowfang and Rowanberry had gone along for the practice.

“Cedarstar’s right when he says that every warrior needs to keep their battle skills sharp,” Rowanberry had commented as they followed their father to the clearing. “And we’ll show these rogues what it means to be a ShadowClan warrior.”

But as soon as Yellowfang began the training exercise, taking on Russetpaw and Boulder at once to perfect her battle skills when she was outnumbered, she realized that practicing with them was harder than she had expected. Though the two rogues had only a scant idea of Clan battle moves, they were both strong and well muscled, and flung themselves determinedly into the fight. Yellowfang felt as though every muscle in her body was taking a beating. I’ve got to get this right, she thought, aware that her sister and the two younger apprentices were watching from the edge of the clearing.

Yellowfang was trying the move that had worked so well in the battle beside the Twoleg fence, rearing on her hind paws and battering Russetpaw around the head with her forepaws. But Russetpaw leaped backward, and before Yellowfang could follow her, Boulder crashed into her hind legs and swept her to the ground. He thumped down on top of her, his face a mouse-length from hers, his eyes gleaming.

“Do I win?” he asked smugly.

“You do,” Brackenfoot replied. “Very good, Boulder—and you, Russetpaw. I’ll tell your mentors you fought well.”

Yellowfang scrambled to her paws, feeling bruised and indignant. It didn’t help when she heard Foxpaw exclaim loudly, “Clumsy furball! She can’t even keep her balance.”

“That move needs work,” Brackenfoot agreed more tactfully, while Yellowfang glared at the apprentice. “Try it again, Yellowfang, and this time don’t forget what might be sneaking up behind you.”

“Okay,” Yellowfang grunted.

Facing Russetpaw again, she reared up, making sure she dug her hind paws firmly into the soft ground. She landed a couple of blows on Russetpaw’s ears, her claws sheathed, then spun around at once and dropped neatly on top of Boulder as he dived at her.

“My round, I think,” she meowed as he wriggled helplessly underneath her.

“Much better,” Brackenfoot purred. “Now you can have a rest, Yellowfang, and we’ll see how Wolfpaw and Foxpaw get on.”

Panting, Yellowfang retreated to the edge of the clearing and flopped down on the moss beside Rowanberry.