Littlebird took the berry from Yellowfang’s claw, chewed feebly, and managed to swallow it. Then she flopped back down and closed her eyes. To Yellowfang’s relief the tightness in her own chest began to relax.
“Look, Lizardfang,” Yellowfang suggested, “if we build the moss up a bit on this side, Littlebird can be more upright while she rests. It should help her to breathe more easily.”
Lizardfang hoisted Littlebird while Yellowfang built up a mound of moss underneath the elder’s shoulders. The sick cat let out a sigh; already her breathing was starting to improve. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Lizardfang curled up beside Littlebird to keep her warm, and Yellowfang headed back to Sagewhisker’s den. Her own breathing had eased along with Littlebird’s.
The medicine cat was still awake, and halfway sat up as Yellowfang slipped between the boulders. “How is she?”
“Better,” Yellowfang replied. “I don’t think you need to see her tonight.”
Sagewhisker nodded. “Thanks, Yellowfang. I’ll look in on her at dawn.”
Thrusting her way back into the warriors’ den, Yellowfang noticed that Raggedpelt was awake, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness. “Where have you been?” he whispered.
“Helping Littlebird,” Yellowfang responded, weaving her way among the sleeping cats to reach her nest. “She couldn’t breathe, so I fetched a juniper berry for her.”
Raggedpelt’s eyes narrowed. “That’s Sagewhisker’s responsibility, not yours.”
Relieved that he hadn’t asked her how she knew Littlebird needed help, Yellowfang meowed, “I just don’t want to let my Clanmates suffer, okay?”
Raggedpelt let out a snort that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “I said we’d be leader and deputy, not leader and medicine cat!”
He beckoned with his tail, and Yellowfang curled up beside him, their pelts pressed together against the cold.
The full moon floated high above the ShadowClan camp. Yellowfang hadn’t been chosen to go to the Gathering, but she couldn’t sleep until she found out what had happened there. She sat in the warriors’ den, paws tucked under her, until she heard the sound of paws racing across the packed earth floor of the camp. Raggedpelt was the first cat to appear, thrusting his broad shoulders through the outer branches of the den.
“Any news?” Yellowfang asked, springing up.
Raggedpelt’s expression was grim. “All the Clans looked better fed than us,” he reported, his lips drawn back in the beginning of a snarl. “And Heatherstar of WindClan told this ridiculous story about picking up ShadowClan scent on their territory.”
“That’s completely unfair!” Yellowfang meowed indignantly. “No cat has been over there.”
“I know that, but WindClan won’t believe it.” Raggedpelt gave his whiskers a disgusted twitch. “And that’s not all. Featherwhisker, the ThunderClan medicine cat, was asking Foxheart and Russetpaw some very odd questions.”
“What sort of questions?”
“Oh, is everything okay in ShadowClan… that sort of thing.”
Yellowfang was puzzled. “But Featherwhisker must have seen Sagewhisker at the half-moon… why does he need to ask questions at a Gathering? Unless he was concerned that all our warriors look so thin.”
Raggedpelt snorted. “Medicine cats should keep their noses where they belong!”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Yellowfang soothed him, resting her tail-tip on his shoulder.
By now more cats were pushing their way into the den. Foxheart scampered past, her paws scattering moss, with Lizardstripe just behind her. She halted when she saw Yellowfang. “Did you stay behind to go hunting for herbs?” she teased.
“Yeah, it must be really hard to track down leaves,” Lizardstripe added.
The two she-cats exchanged a glance and let out a
Yellowfang rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother to reply.
“You know, they have a point,” Raggedpelt mewed when Foxheart and Lizardstripe had gone on to their nests. “You spend too much time helping Sagewhisker when you should be doing warrior duties.”
Yellowfang bristled. “You’re not Clan leader; don’t tell me what to do,” she muttered, turning her back on Raggedpelt.
She felt Raggedpelt’s warm breath on the back of her neck. “I’m not telling you what to do,” he murmured. “It’s just a suggestion, okay? You’re a warrior, not a medicine cat. I know that, you know that, you just need to make sure that it’s clear to the rest of the Clan, too.”
Yellowfang stepped forward, dipping her head to the Clan leader. “I’d like to join a hunting patrol, please, Cedarstar.”
It was the morning after the Gathering. Cedarstar and Stonetooth were organizing the first patrols. The air was still icy cold but the sun gleamed in a pale blue sky, and somewhere high above, a bird was twittering. Yellowfang’s heart rose at the prospect of prey.
“Fine, Yellowfang,” Cedarstar meowed. “You can go with Archeye, Wolfstep, and Amberleaf.”
