Yellowfang pelted after him, and the two warriors fell upon the intruders from behind. For several heartbeats Yellowfang struck out blindly, with three or four cats surrounding her; then she and her Clanmates forced the kittypets back into the open, away from the nursery entrance. Yellowfang glimpsed Raggedpelt chasing one of them into the bushes.
A hard blow on her shoulder made her stagger; recovering, she found herself facing Marmalade. The ginger tom aimed another blow at her; Yellowfang ducked and raked her claws across his chest fur. With a snarl of fury Marmalade threw himself on top of her and the two cats grappled together, rolling over on the ground.
“You have no right to keep Red and Boulder here!” Marmalade hissed into Yellowfang’s ear.
“But they came of their own accord!” she protested. “They chose to stay!”
Marmalade wasn’t paying any attention. Yellowfang knew she had to do something to stop the battle. Wriggling free from the ginger tom, knowing she left tufts of her gray pelt in his claws, she looked around frantically. “Cedarstar!” she yowled, trying to make herself heard above the storm of battle.
She spotted the Clan leader as he buffeted a rogue about the ears; the rogue turned and fled into the darkness at the edge of the camp. Yellowfang rushed across the clearing to intercept Cedarstar before he rejoined the battle.
“Cedarstar!” she panted. “I know what’s going on!”
The Clan leader’s claws gleamed in the starlight. “What do you mean?” he snapped. Yellowfang guessed that he hadn’t heard Marmalade’s yowl as he burst into the clearing.
“When we were patrolling yesterday, we told a kittypet that Russetpaw and Boulder are living in ShadowClan. The kittypets think we’re keeping them imprisoned. They’ve come to get them back!”
“That’s madness!” Cedarstar roared.
Yellowfang nodded. “I know. But the kittypets don’t.”
As she spoke, Marmalade staggered up, bleeding from several scratches but still on his paws. “We know Red and Boulder are here,” he growled. “Give them to us!”
The Clan leader lashed his tail. “They’re not here. They’re out on patrol. And they’re not prisoners.”
Marmalade faced the Clan leader, his neck fur bristling. “So
Yellowfang had to admire the big tom’s courage. “They won’t believe anything unless Russetpaw and Boulder tell them,” she meowed to Cedarstar.
The Clan leader let out a snarl of anger and frustration. “Go and find them, then, and bring them back here. I know we can win this fight, but it’s better for the Clan if we end it quickly.”
Yellowfang dipped her head and dashed off, skirting groups of grappling cats. The patrol wasn’t in sight when she emerged from the tunnel, but she knew the direction they would return and bounded off to meet them. Now that she had a moment to think, she was aware of stinging pain all over her body, and realized that she was feeling the wounds of every cat in the battle. Her head clouded with agony, and she blinked to clear it.
Suddenly new cat scents washed over Yellowfang. Rounding a fallen tree, she skidded to a halt as she saw Raggedpelt, Featherstorm, and Hal facing one another. All three cats were panting and wild-eyed, a terrible tension singing among them.
“Tell me this cat isn’t my father,” Raggedpelt growled at Featherstorm.
His mother flicked her tail. “He gave up the right to be called that long ago. It was his decision.”
Raggedpelt’s eyes widened as he stared at Hal. “You knew all along? But when I found you, you didn’t say anything!”
Hal shrugged. “You want nothing to do with Twolegplace cats. I want nothing to do with the Clans.”
“You have no idea what it was like, growing up without a father.” Raggedpelt’s words sounded as if he were being choked. “And now I find out that my father was a
Yellowfang felt her heart tear with sympathy for Raggedpelt, more painful than any wound. She took a pace toward him. “That doesn’t matter!” she told him. “Every cat knows that you are a ShadowClan warrior.”
Raggedpelt rounded on her, his teeth bared. “Stay out of this,” he snarled.
As Yellowfang gazed at him, unable to leave but not knowing what else she could say, the sounds of fighting drifted through the trees, screeches and the crackling of paws through undergrowth growing steadily nearer.
“You should never have come here,” Featherstorm snapped at Hal, then bounded away toward the noise of battle.
Raggedpelt turned to his father, stiff-legged with fury, his neck fur bristling and his tail bushed out to twice its size. “Leave now,” he ordered. “And never come back.”
Hal gave his chest fur a slow, deliberate lick. “You can’t tell me what to do,
“I am not your son!” Raggedpelt growled, taking a threatening step forward. “I am a ShadowClan warrior!”
“A warrior with kittypet blood in your veins,” Hal taunted him. “Will your so-called Clanmates ever forget that?”
