Nettlespot leaned closer to Toadskip. “You can’t go risking your life when you have your son, Cloudkit, to think about,” she told him.
Poolcloud, who was sitting close by, swiveled her head to look at Nettlespot. “Toadskip is the father of my kits, too,” she snapped. “But I wouldn’t dream of telling a warrior not to fight.”
Stonetooth distracted them by rising to his paws. “As I see it,” he began, “the problem is how to catch some rats without attracting the attention of the rest of them.”
Amberleaf raised her tail. “Just send one or two warriors at a time?” she suggested.
“Or hunt at night, in darkness?” Mousewing put in.
“Maybe we should wait for the wind to blow in the right direction,” Hollyflower added. “So it would hide our scent as we creep up?”
Sagewhisker appeared beside Yellowfang with her jaws full of herbs. “So where do we start?” she asked after setting down the dusty bundle.
“Scorchwind has a deep bite,” Yellowfang reported. “That’s the worst wound; it could become infected. Rowanberry has some mild scratches, and Brackenfoot has some claw marks that look sore.”
“No need to fuss about me,” Brackenfoot meowed, catching what his daughter said. “I’ve taken much worse wounds in my time.”
“I’ll fuss about you all I want,” Yellowfang responded tartly. “You’ll have some dock leaf to soothe the soreness, and like it.”
Brackenfoot dipped his head; Yellowfang caught a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Very well, medicine cat,” he purred.
As Yellowfang padded around treating the wounds and keeping her pain under careful control, she noticed Raggedpelt sitting at the edge of the crowd, his amber eyes smoldering. Now he stepped forward. “Are we not warriors?” he demanded, glaring around at his Clanmates. “We are proud, afraid of no enemy, trained to fight in any battle! We will not skulk like dogs around these rats, hiding under cover of darkness, or fleeing like foxes when they bare their teeth. They are
A murmur of excitement rose from the cats around him. Raggedpelt crouched down and began to score lines in the frozen earth of the camp floor. “Look! Here’s Carrionplace. This is the route we should take from camp, coming out here. Patrols should attack from here, here, and here. We’ll drive the rats toward a fourth patrol, and contain them in the tightest area possible. We need to find a place where we’ll always be higher than the rats, to keep the advantage.” His voice grew stronger and more confident with every word. “We should build barriers on either side of the spot where the rats will emerge, to keep them blocked in. We’ll set a trap for them!” he ended triumphantly.
A moment of silence followed, every cat turning their gaze toward the Clan leader.
Cedarstar nodded. “It might work,” he pronounced.
Several cats pushed up to Raggedpelt to congratulate him, while others started talking in quiet tones. Yellowfang knew that not every cat would feel pride in Raggedpelt’s courageous plan; he was well respected in his Clan, but didn’t make friends easily.
Cedarstar, Stonetooth, and the other senior warriors huddled around Raggedpelt, examining the scratch marks he had made in the earth. Yellowfang, still helping Sagewhisker deal with injuries, found herself at the back of the crowd.
“I want to be in the final patrol,” Wolfstep meowed. “I’d be good at building the walls to trap the rats.”
Amberleaf slid out her claws. “I’ll chase the rats out of their den and into the ambush.”
Yellowfang opened her jaws to make a suggestion when she was distracted by a prod from Sagewhisker. “You’re not a warrior anymore,” the medicine cat reminded her. “Can you go back to the den and fetch me some burdock root? That’s the best cure for Scorchwind’s rat bite. Or wild garlic if you can’t find the burdock root.”
Yellowfang padded off with a pang in her heart for what she was missing. When she got back she chewed up the burdock root while Sagewhisker put marigold on Rowanberry’s scratches. When she came to treat Scorchwind’s bite, he was so excited to be discussing his brother’s plan that he wouldn’t keep still; Yellowfang couldn’t get the cobwebs to stick the poultice in place.
“Will you stop squirming around like a kit with ants in its pelt?” she meowed crossly.
Scorchwind gave her an impatient shrug. “I’m okay, Yellowfang. This is more important.”
“Fine!” Yellowfang snapped. “Bleed all over the place if you want! You’ve got the sense of an egg if you think you can trot around the forest with a hole in your flank.”
