Yellowfang’s Secret полностью

As Foxheart stepped back after licking her leader’s shoulder, the Clan exploded into yowls of welcome and congratulation. “Foxheart! Wolfstep! Foxheart! Wolfstep!”

Yellowfang noticed that Boulder and Russetpaw were joining in enthusiastically, their eyes shining as they called out the new warriors’ names. They’re not at all bitter that they haven’t been made warriors too—even though Boulder must be a few moons older.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this.” The voice was Amberleaf’s; Yellowfang glanced over her shoulder to see the older she-cat talking to Finchflight. “But those Twolegplace cats have really settled into the Clan. Maybe they’ll make warriors after all.”

Finchflight nodded. “They work hard, and Mousewing tells me they’re doing their best to understand the warrior code.”

Yellowfang was pleased to hear Amberleaf—one of the strictest cats in the Clan—praising Boulder and Russetpaw. But disappointment welled up inside her when she looked back at Raggedpelt and saw that he had turned his back on the two newcomers yet again and was moving away.

“Raggedpelt, you’re being mouse-brained,” she hissed, bounding after him. “You have to trust those two not to say anything about the time we visited Twolegplace.” When Raggedpelt just looked stubborn, she added, “They probably don’t think about their old lives at all! Any cat can see that they’re dedicated to ShadowClan now.”

Raggedpelt gave a single lash of his tail. “They’ve only been in camp for three moons. We don’t know them, so how can we trust them?” he growled. “They could still be spies!”

Yellowfang sighed. Why can’t Raggedpelt see what’s right in front of his own nose?

“Talk to you later,” she mewed abruptly, and bounded off to join Rowanberry and Nutwhisker beside the fresh-kill pile.

“I told you, you have to wake up and come on patrol!”

Yellowfang woke from a deep sleep to hear Foxheart’s strident tones filling the warriors’ den. She was drawing breath for a stinging retort when she realized that ShadowClan’s newest warrior wasn’t talking to her.

Toadskip was heaving himself out of his nest a couple of tail-lengths away. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “No need to wake the whole Clan.”

“You’d better hurry,” Foxheart went on. She was poking her head through the outer branches of the den. “Cedarheart and Stonetooth are waiting for you. We’re going to check that the badger has really gone.”

“I’m coming. Just get out of my fur, okay,” Toadskip grumbled as he gave his pelt a good shake and headed out of the den.

Foxheart pulled her head back; Yellowfang heard her scolding voice receding as the two cats trotted away.

Yellowfang stretched her jaws in a massive yawn, then curled up again in the hope of going back to sleep. She still felt tired from the previous day, when she had taken part in three hunting patrols, including one after dark to look for night prey. Hunting’s so much harder in leaf-bare, she thought drowsily. And I’m supposed to join another patrol after sunhigh.

But sleep wouldn’t come. A sharp pain was stabbing into Yellowfang’s belly, and for a moment she wondered if she’d accidentally eaten crow-food. Then she realized that the pain was different somehow. Oh, not again! This is some other cat’s pain. Get out of my fur!

For a short while Yellowfang tried to ignore the griping in her belly, but it was growing stronger with every heartbeat. Finally she had to admit that she needed to go and see Sagewhisker. Stifling a groan, she blundered out of the den, the pangs stabbing so hard that she was almost bent double. Though she tried to avoid the sleeping bodies of the other warriors, she brushed against Nutwhisker, who raised his head and blinked sleepily at her.

“Are you okay, Yellowfang?”

“I’m fine,” Yellowfang snapped. “It’s just a cramp.”

She shivered as she emerged into the open. An icy breeze was sweeping across the camp, and Yellowfang longed for her cozy bedding and the air inside the den, warm with her Clanmates’ breath. The clearing was deserted; all the cats were either huddled in their dens or out on patrol.

Another stab of pain sent Yellowfang bounding across the clearing. Sagewhisker roused and looked up in surprise as Yellowfang slipped between the stones into her den. “Is something wrong, Yellowfang?” she asked with a yawn.

By now the pain was so bad that it was hard for Yellowfang to reply. “Is there a cat with bellyache in the Clan?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Sagewhisker twitched her whiskers, fixing Yellowfang with a searching gaze. “What exactly do you feel?”

“Agony! It hurts!”

“I need a bit more detail than that,” Sagewhisker responded calmly.