CHAPTER 9

“I’d go and see to Yellowfang, if I were you, ” whispered

Graypaw, as Longtail strode away. “She’s doesn’t look very

happy. ”

Firepaw glanced over at the old she-cat. She was stil

lying beside the Highrock. Graypaw was right; she was

glaring at him.

“Wel, here goes, ” he mewed. “Wish me luck! ”

“You’l need the whole of StarClan on your side for this

one, ” answered Graypaw. “Cal out if you need a hand. If

she looks like she’s going to have you, I’l sneak up behind

her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit. ”

Firepaw purred with amusement and trotted off toward

Yel owfang. His cheerfulness quickly evaporated as he

neared the injured queen.

The old cat was clearly in a terrible mood. She hissed a

warning and showed her teeth. “Stop right there, kittypet! ”

Firepaw sighed. It seemed he was in for a fight. He was

stil hungry and beginning to feel tired. He longed to curl up

in his nest for an afternoon nap. The last thing he wanted

was to argue with this pitiful clump of fur and teeth. “You can

cal me what you like, ” he mewed wearily. “I’m just fol owing

Bluestar’s orders. ”

“You are a kittypet, though, aren’t you? ” Yel owfang

wheezed.

She’s tired too, Firepaw thought. There was less fire in

her voice, although her spite was as strong as ever.

“I used to live with Twolegs when I was a kitten, ” Firepaw

replied calmly.

“Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet? ”

“Yes, they were. ” Firepaw looked down at the ground,

feeling resentment burn inside him. It was bad enough that

members of his own Clan stil viewed him as an outsider.

He certainly didn’t have to answer to this foul-tempered

prisoner.

Yel owfang seemed to take his silence as an invitation to

go on. “Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood.

Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of

looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a

lowborn cat like you! ”

Firepaw’s patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d stil feel

humiliated if I were warrior-born. You’d feel ashamed

whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a

wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground. ” He

lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need

to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating! ”

Yel owfang stared at him, her orange eyes very wide.

Firepaw carried on fiercely: “You’re just going to have to

get used to being cared for until you are wel enough to look

after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag! ”

He stopped as Yel owfang began to make a low, harsh,

wheezing sound.

Alarmed, Firepaw took a step toward her. The she-cat

was trembling al over and her eyes had narrowed into tiny

slits. Was she having some kind of a fit?

“Look, I didn’t mean…” he began, before he suddenly

realized that she was laughing!

“Mr-ow, ow-ow, ” she mewled, a purr rumbling up from

deep inside her chest.

Firepaw didn’t know what to do.

“You have spirit, kittypet, ” Yel owfang croaked, stopping

at last. “Now, I’m tired and my leg hurts. I need sleep and

something to put on this wound. Go and find that pretty little

medicine cat of yours and ask her for some herbs. I think

you’l find a goldenrod poultice would help. And, while

you’re at it, I wouldn’t mind a few poppy seeds to chew on.

The pain is kil ing me! ”

Stunned by her change of mood, Firepaw turned quickly

and sprinted toward Spottedleaf’s den.

He had never been in this part of the camp before. With

his ears pricked, he padded through a cool green tunnel of

ferns that led into a smal grassy clearing. A tal rock stood

at one side, split down the middle by a crack wide enough

for a cat to make its den inside. Out of this opening trotted

Spottedleaf. As usual, she looked bright-eyed and friendly,

her dappled coat gleaming with a hundred shades of

amber and brown.

Firepaw shyly mewed a greeting, and reeled off

Yel owfang’s list of herbs and seeds.

“I’ve got most of those in my den, ” replied Spottedleaf.

“I’l fetch some marigold leaves too. If she dresses her

wound with that, it’l keep off any infection. Wait here. ”

“Thanks, ” Firepaw mewed as the medicine cat

disappeared back into her den. He strained his eyes, trying

to catch a glimpse of her inside. But the den was too dark

to see anything; he could only hear the sound of rustling and

smel the heady scents of unfamiliar herbs.

Spottedleaf emerged from the gloom and dropped a

bundle folded in leaves by Firepaw’s feet. “Tel Yel owfang

to go easy on the poppy seeds. I don’t want her to deaden

the pain entirely. A little pain can be useful, as it wil help me

judge how wel she is healing. ”

Firepaw nodded and picked up the herbs with his teeth.

“Thanks, Spottedleaf! ” he mewed through the mouthful of

leaves, then headed back through the fern tunnel into the

main clearing.

Tigerclaw was sitting outside the warriors’ den, watching

him closely. As Firepaw trotted over to Yel owfang, carrying

the herbs, he could feel the amber-eyed stare burning the

fur on the back of his neck. He turned his head and looked

at Tigerclaw curiously. The warrior narrowed his eyes and

looked away.

Firepaw dropped the bundle beside Yel owfang.

“Good, ” she meowed. “Now, before you leave me in

peace, find me something to eat. I’m starving! ”

The sun had risen three times since Yel owfang had

entered the camp. Firepaw woke early and nudged

Graypaw, who was stil asleep beside him, his nose tucked

under his thick tail. “Wake up, ” Firepaw mewed. “Or you’l

be late for training. ”

Graypaw lifted his head sleepily and growled in reluctant

agreement.

Firepaw prodded Ravenpaw.

The black cat opened his eyes immediately and leaped

to his feet. “What is it? ” he mewed, looking around wildly.

“Calm down, Ravenpaw. It’s time for training soon, ”

Firepaw soothed.

Dustpaw and Sandpaw began to stir too, in their mossy

nests on the far side of the den. Firepaw stood up and

pushed his way out of the ferns.

The morning was warm. Firepaw could see a deep blue

sky through the leaves and branches that overhung the

camp. Today, however, a heavy dew glistened on the fern

fronds and sparkled on the grass. Firepaw sniffed the air.

Greenleaf was drawing to a close, and soon it would start

to feel colder.

He lay down and rol ed in the earth beside the tree

stump, stretching his legs and tipping his head back to rub

it on the cool ground. Then he flipped over onto his side,

and looked across the clearing to see if Yel owfang was

awake yet.

She had been given a resting place at the other end of

the fal en tree where the elders gathered to eat. Her nest lay

tucked against its mossy trunk, out of hearing of the elders,

but in ful view of the warriors’ den across the clearing.

Firepaw could just see a mound of pale gray fur, rising and

fal ing in time to a gentle rumble of sleep.

Graypaw trotted out of the den behind him, fol owed by

Sandpaw and Dustpaw. Ravenpaw appeared last, with a

nervous glance around the clearing before he emerged ful y

into the open.

“Another day looking after that mangy old fleabag, eh,

Firepaw? ” mewed Dustpaw. “I bet you wish you were out

training with us. ”

Firepaw sat up and shook the dust from his fur. He

wasn’t going to let himself get annoyed by Dustpaw’s

taunts.

“Don’t worry, Firepaw, ” murmured Graypaw. “Bluestar

wil have you back in training before long. ”

“Perhaps she thinks a kittypet is better off staying in

camp, tending to the sick, ” mewed Sandpaw rudely,

tossing her sleek ginger head and throwing him a scornful

look.

Firepaw decided to ignore her barbed comments. “What

is Whitestorm teaching you today, Sandpaw? ” he mewed.

“We’re doing battle training today. He’s going to teach

me how a real warrior fights, ” Sandpaw replied proudly.

“Lionheart’s taking me to the Great Sycamore, ” mewed

Graypaw, “to practice my climbing. I’d best go. He’l be

waiting. ”

“I’l come with you to the top of the ravine, ” mewed

Firepaw. “I have to catch breakfast for Yel owfang. Coming,

Ravenpaw? Tigerclaw must have something planned for

you. ”

Ravenpaw sighed and nodded, then fol owed Graypaw

and Firepaw as they trotted out of the camp. Even though

his injury was completely healed, he stil seemed to have

little enthusiasm for warrior training.

“Here, ” mewed Firepaw. He dropped a large mouse and

a chaffinch onto the ground beside Yel owfang.

“About time, ” she growled. The she-cat had stil been

sleeping when Firepaw had entered the camp after his

hunting trip. But the smel of fresh-kil must have woken her,

for now she had pul ed herself into a sitting position.

She dropped her head and hungrily gulped down

Firepaw’s offerings. She had developed a massive

appetite as her strength returned. Her wound was healing

wel, but her temper remained as fierce and unpredictable

as ever.

She finished her meal and complained, “The base of my

tail itches like fury, but I can’t reach it. Give it a wash, wil

you? ”

With an inward shudder, Firepaw crouched down and

set to work.

As he cracked the plump fleas between his teeth, he

noticed a gang of smal kits tumbling in the dusty earth

nearby. They were mauling each other and play-fighting,

sometimes quite viciously. Yel owfang, who had closed her

eyes as Firepaw groomed her, half opened one eye to

observe the kits as they played. To his surprise, Firepaw

felt her spine stiffen beneath his teeth.

He listened for a moment to the tiny yelps and squeaks

of the kits.

“Feel my teeth, Brokenstar! ” mewed one smal tabby. He

leaped onto the back of a little gray-and-white kit, who was

pretending to be the ShadowClan leader. The two kits

bundled toward the Highrock. Suddenly the gray-and-white

kit gave a mighty heave and flung the tabby from his back.

With a startled squeak, the little tabby cannoned into

Yel owfang’s side.

Instantly the old she-cat leaped to her feet, fur on end,

spitting violently. “Stay away from me, you scrap of fur! ” she

hissed.

The tabby kit took one look at the furious cat, turned tail,

and ran. He hid himself behind a tabby queen, who was

staring furiously across the clearing at Yel owfang.

The gray-and-white kit froze where he stood. Then, paw

by paw, he cautiously backed away toward the safety of the

nursery.

Yel owfang’s reaction had shocked Firepaw. He thought

he’d seen her at her most vicious when they fought after

their first meeting, but her eyes burned with a new rage

now. “I think the kits are finding it hard being confined to

camp, ” he mewed cautiously. “They’re getting restless. ”

“I don’t care how restless they are, ” growled Yel owfang.

“Just keep them away from me! ”

“Don’t you like kits? ” Firepaw asked, curious in spite of

himself. “Did you never have kits of your own? ”

“Don’t you know medicine cats don’t have kits? ” hissed

Yel owfang furiously.

“But I heard you were a warrior before that, ” Firepaw

ventured.

“I have no kits! ” Yel owfang spat. She snatched her tail

away from him and sat up. “Anyway”—her voice suddenly

lowered, and she sounded almost wistful—“accidents

seem to happen to kits when I’m around them. ”

Her orange eyes clouded with emotion. She laid her chin

flat on her forepaws and stared ahead. Firepaw watched

her shoulders sink as she released a long, silent sigh.

Firepaw looked at her curiously. What could she mean?

Was the old she-cat being serious? It was hard to tel;

Yel owfang seemed to swing from mood to mood so

quickly. He shrugged to himself and went on with the

grooming.

“There are a couple of ticks I couldn’t pul out, ” he told

her when he had finished.

“I should hope you didn’t even try, you idiot! ” snapped

Yel owfang. “I don’t want any tick heads embedded in my

rear, thank you very much. Ask Spottedleaf for a little

mouse bile to rub on them. A splash of that in their

breathing holes and they’l soon loosen their grip. ”

“I’l get some now! ” Firepaw offered. He was glad of a

chance to get away from the grumpy cat for a while. And it

was certainly no hardship to go and see Spottedleaf again.

He walked toward the fern tunnel. Cats crossed the

clearing around him, carrying sticks and twigs in their teeth.

While he had been grooming Yel owfang, the camp had

grown active. It had been like this every day since Bluestar

had announced WindClan’s disappearance. The queens

were weaving twigs and leaves into a dense green wal

around the sides of the nursery, making sure that the

narrow entrance was the only way in and out of the bramble

patch. Other cats were working at the edges of the camp,

fil ing in any spaces in the thick undergrowth.

Even the elders were busy, scraping out a hole in the

ground. Warriors filed steadily past, piling pieces of fresh-

kil beside them, ready to be stored inside the newly dug

hole. There was an air of quiet concentration, a

determination to make the Clan as secure and wel

supplied as possible.

If ShadowClan made a move on their territory,

ThunderClan would shelter inside the camp. They would not

let themselves be driven from their hunting grounds as

easily as WindClan had been.

Darkstripe, Longtail, Wil owpelt, and Dustpaw were

waiting silently at the camp entrance. Their eyes were fixed

on the opening to the gorse tunnel. A patrol was just

returning, dusty and paw-sore. As soon as the warriors

entered the camp, Darkstripe and his companions

approached and exchanged words with them. Then they

slipped quickly out of the camp. ThunderClan’s borders

were not being left unguarded for a moment.

Firepaw headed down the fern tunnel that led to

Spottedleaf’s den. As he entered the clearing, he could see

Spottedleaf was preparing some sweet-smel ing herbs.

“Can I have some mouse bile for Yel owfang’s ticks? ”

Firepaw mewed.

“In a moment, ” replied Spottedleaf, pawing two piles of

herbs together and mixing the fragrant heap with one

delicately extended claw.

“Busy? ” Firepaw asked, settling down on a warm patch

of earth.

“I want to be prepared for any casualties, ” Spottedleaf

murmured, glancing up at him with her clear amber eyes.

Firepaw met her gaze for a moment, then looked away, an

uncomfortable feeling prickling his fur. Spottedleaf turned

her attention back to the herbs.

Firepaw waited, happy to sit quietly and watch her at

work.

“Right, ” she mewed at last. “What was it you wanted?

Mouse bile? ”

“Yes, please. ” Firepaw stood up and stretched each

back leg in turn. The sun had warmed his fur and made him

feel sleepy.

Spottedleaf bounded into her den and brought

something out. She held it gingerly in her mouth. It was a

smal wad of moss dangling on the end of a thin strip of

bark. She passed it to Firepaw. He tasted her warm, sweet

breath as he took the bark strip between his teeth.

“The moss is soaked in bile, ” Spottedleaf explained.

“Don’t get any in your mouth, or you’l have a foul taste for

days. Press it onto the ticks and then wash your paws—in a

stream, not with your tongue! ”

Firepaw nodded and trotted back to Yel owfang, feeling

suddenly cheerful and tingling with energy.

“Hold stil! ” he mewed to the old she-cat. Careful y he

used his forepaws to press the moss onto each tick.

“You may as wel clear away my dirt now your paws are

already foul! ” she meowed when he had finished. “I’m going

to take a nap. ” She yawned, revealing her blackened and

broken teeth. The warmth of the day was making her

sleepy, too. “Then you can go and do whatever it is you

apprentices do, ” she murmured.

When Firepaw had cleared away Yel owfang’s dirt, he

left her dozing and made his way to the gorse tunnel. He

was keen to get to the stream and rinse his paws.

“Firepaw! ” a voice cal ed from the side of the clearing.

Firepaw turned. It was Halftail.

“Where are you off to? ” meowed the old cat curiously.

“You ought to be helping with the preparations. ”

“I’ve just been putting mouse bile on Yel owfang’s ticks, ”

replied Firepaw.

Amusement flickered through Halftail’s whiskers. “So

now you’re off to the nearest stream! Wel, don’t come back

without fresh-kil. We need as much as we can find. ”

“Yes, Halftail, ” Firepaw replied.

He made his way out of the camp and up the side of the

ravine. He trotted down to the stream where he and

Graypaw had hunted on the day he had found Yel owfang.

Without hesitating he jumped down into the cold, clear

water. It came up to his haunches, and wet his bel y fur. The

shock made him gasp, and he shivered.

A rustle in the bushes above him made him look up,

although the familiar scent that reached his nose told him

there was nothing to be alarmed about.

“What are you doing in there? ” Graypaw and Ravenpaw

were standing looking at him as if he were mad.

“Mouse bile. ” Firepaw grimaced. “Don’t ask! Where are

Lionheart and Tigerclaw? ”

“They’ve gone to join the next patrol, ” answered

Graypaw. “They ordered us to spend the rest of the

afternoon hunting. ”

“Halftail told me the same thing, ” Firepaw mewed,

flinching as a chil y current of water rushed around his

paws. “Everyone’s busy back at camp. You’d think we were

about to be attacked at any moment. ” He climbed up onto

the bank, dripping.

“Who says we won’t be? ” mewed Ravenpaw, his eyes

flicking from side to side as if he expected an enemy patrol

to leap out of the bushes at any time.

Firepaw looked at the heap of fresh-kil that was piled

beside the two apprentices. “Looks like you’ve done al

right today, ” he mewed.

“Yeah, ” mewed Graypaw proudly. “And we’ve stil got the

rest of the afternoon to hunt. Do you want to join us? ”

“You bet! ” Firepaw purred. He gave himself a final

shake, then bounded into the undergrowth after his friends.

Firepaw could tel that the cats back at camp were

impressed with the amount of prey the three apprentices

had managed to catch during their afternoon hunt. They

were welcomed back with high tails and friendly nuzzles. It

took them four journeys to carry their bumper catch to the

storage hole the elders had dug.

Lionheart and Tigerclaw had just returned with their

patrol as Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw carried their

last load into the camp.

“Wel done, you three, ” meowed Lionheart. “I hear you’ve

been busy. The store is almost ful. You might as wel add

that last lot to the pile of fresh-kil for tonight. And take some

of it back to your den with you. You deserve a feast! ”

The three apprentices flicked their tails with delight.

“I hope you’ve not been neglecting Yel owfang with al

this hunting, Firepaw, ” Tigerclaw growled warningly.

Firepaw shook his head impatiently, eager to get away.

He was starving. He had obeyed the warrior code this time

and not eaten a morsel while he was hunting for the Clan.

Nor had Graypaw or Ravenpaw.

They trotted away and dropped the last of their catch on

the fresh-kil that already lay at the center of the clearing.

Then each of them took a piece and carried it back to their

tree stump. The den was empty.

“Where are Dustpaw and Sandpaw? ” asked Ravenpaw.

“They must stil be out on patrol, ” Firepaw guessed.

“Good, ” meowed Graypaw. “Peace and quiet. ”

They ate their fil and lay back to wash. The cool evening

air was welcome after the heat of the day.

“Hey! Guess what! ” mewed Graypaw suddenly.

“Ravenpaw managed to squeeze a compliment out of old

Tigerclaw this morning! ”

“Real y? ” Firepaw gasped. “What on earth did you do to

please Tigerclaw—fly? ”

“Wel, ” Ravenpaw began shyly, looking at his paws, “I

caught a crow. ”

“How’d you manage that? ” Firepaw mewed, impressed.

“It was an old one, ” Ravenpaw admitted modestly.

“But it was huge, ” added Graypaw. “Even Tigerclaw

couldn’t find fault with that! He’s been in such a bad mood

since Bluestar took you on as her apprentice. ” He licked his

paw thoughtful y for a moment. “Hang on, make that since

Lionheart was made deputy. ”

“He’s just worried about ShadowClan, and the extra

patrols, ” mewed Ravenpaw, hastily. “You should try not to

annoy him. ”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud yowl from

the other side of the clearing.

“Oh, no. ” Firepaw groaned, getting to his paws. “I forgot

to take Yel owfang her share! ”

“You wait here, ” mewed Graypaw, leaping up. “I’l take

her something. ”

“No, I’d better go, ” Firepaw protested. “This is my

punishment, not yours. ”

“No one wil notice, ” argued Graypaw. “They’re al busy

eating. You know me: quiet as a mouse, quick as a fish.

Wait here. ”

Firepaw sat down again, unable to hide his relief. He

watched his friend trot away from the tree stump to the pile

of fresh-kil.

As if he were carrying out orders, Graypaw confidently

picked out two of the juiciest-looking mice. Quickly, he

began to pad across the clearing toward Yel owfang.

“Stop, Graypaw! ” A loud growl rumbled from the

entrance to the warriors’ den. Tigerclaw strode out and

marched over to Graypaw. “Where are you taking those

mice? ” he demanded.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Firepaw watched,

helpless, from the tree stump. Beside him, Ravenpaw froze

midchew and crouched over his meal with his eyes wider

than ever.

“Umm…” Graypaw dropped the mice and shuffled his

paws uncomfortably.

“Not helping young Firepaw by feeding that greedy

traitor over there, are you? ”

Firepaw watched Graypaw study his paws for a

moment. Final y he replied, “I, er, I was just feeling hungry. I

was going to take them off and eat them by myself. If I let

that pair get a look in”—he glanced at Firepaw and

Ravenpaw—“they’l leave me with nothing but bones and

fur. ”

“Oh, really? ” mewed Tigerclaw. “Wel, if you’re so

hungry, you might as wel eat them here and now! ”

“But—” Graypaw began, looking up at the senior warrior

in alarm.

“Now! ” growled Tigerclaw.

Graypaw bent his head quickly and began to eat the

mice. He demolished the first one in a couple of bites and

swal owed it quickly. The second mouse took longer for him

to eat. Firepaw thought he’d never manage to swal ow it,

and his own stomach clenched in sympathy, but eventual y

Graypaw gave a final, difficult gulp and the last bit of mouse

disappeared.

“Better now? ” asked Tigerclaw, his voice smooth with

mock sympathy.

“Much, ” replied Graypaw, stifling a burp.

“Good. ” Tigerclaw stalked off again, back to his den.

Graypaw slunk uncomfortably back to Firepaw and

Ravenpaw.

“Thanks, Graypaw, ” Firepaw mewed grateful y, nudging

his friend’s soft fur. “That was quick thinking. ”

The noise of Yel owfang’s yowl rose into the air once

more. Firepaw sighed and got to his paws. He would make

sure he took her enough to see her through the night. He

wanted to turn in early. His stomach was ful and his paws

were tired.

“Are you okay, Graypaw? ” he asked as he turned to

leave.

“Mrr-ow-ow, ” moaned Graypaw. He was hunched into a

low crouch, squinting with pain. “I’ve eaten too much! ”

“Go and see Spottedleaf, ” Firepaw suggested. “I’m sure

she’l find something to help. ”

“I hope so, ” mewed Graypaw, tottering slowly away.

Firepaw wanted to watch him go, until another angry

yowl from Yel owfang sent him sprinting across the clearing.