Yellowfang glared at Spottedleaf and hissed, “I know how to take care of my own wounds. I don’t need your help.”
Spottedleaf said nothing but nodded respectfully and stepped back.
Some of the cats had been out hunting, and fresh-kill was brought for the returning warriors to eat. They each took some food and carried it away to the nettle patch to eat it. Then the other Clan cats crowded forward to take their own share.
Firepaw paced hungrily around the clearing and watched as the cats crouched in their usual groups, chewing and gulping. He longed for a morsel, but didn’t dare to take anything from the pile. He had broken the warrior code. He guessed that this meant he was forbidden his share in the fresh-kill.
He paused beside the Highrock where Bluestar was sharing words with Tigerclaw. Uncertain, Firepaw looked to his leader for a signal that he was allowed to eat. But the gray cat and her senior warrior were busy murmuring at one another in low tones. Firepaw wondered if they were talking about him. Desperate to know his fate, he strained his ears to hear what they were saying.
Tigerclaw’s yowl sounded impatient. “It’s just too dangerous to bring an enemy warrior into the heart of ThunderClan! Now that she knows the camp, even the youngest ShadowClan kit will hear of it. We will have to move.”
“Calm down, Tigerclaw,” Bluestar purred. “Why should we move? Yellowfang says that she is traveling alone now. There is no reason for ShadowClan to hear of it.”
“Do you really believe that? What on earth was that foolish kittypet thinking of?” Tigerclaw spat.
“But think for a moment, Tigerclaw,” mewed Bluestar. “Why would the ShadowClan medicine cat choose to leave her Clan? You seem to be afraid that Yellowfang will share our Clan secrets with ShadowClan, but have you thought about how many ShadowClan secrets she might share with us?”
Firepaw could see by the way Tigerclaw’s fur began to flatten that Bluestar’s words made sense. The warrior nodded briefly, and then stalked off to take his share of the fresh-kill.
Bluestar remained where she was. She looked out across the clearing, where some of the younger kits were fighting and tumbling playfully in the dust. Then she stood up and began to walk toward Firepaw. His heart lurched. What was she going to say to him?
But Bluestar walked straight past him. She did not even glance at him; her eyes were clouded with unknown distant thoughts. “Frostfur!” she called out as she approached the nursery.
A pure white cat with dark blue eyes slipped out of the brambles. Inside, the noise of mewling grew louder.
“Hush, kits,” purred the white cat reassuringly. “I won’t be long.” Then she turned to her leader. “Yes, Bluestar? What is it?”
“One of our apprentices has seen a fox in the area. Warn the other queens to guard the nursery carefully. And make sure all kits less than six moons stay inside the camp until our warriors have driven it away.”
Frostfur nodded. “I will pass on the warning, Bluestar. Thank you.” Then she turned and squeezed back into the nursery to quiet the crying kits.
At last Bluestar strode over to the pile of fresh-kill and took her share. A plump wood pigeon had been left for her there. Firepaw looked on longingly as she carried it away to eat with the senior warriors.
Finally his hunger drove him forward. Graypaw was with Ravenpaw, wolfing down a small finch beside the tree stump. He saw Firepaw approach the pile and flicked his head encouragingly. Firepaw bent his neck, ready to take a small wood mouse in his teeth.
“Not for you,” Tigerclaw growled, striding up behind him and pawing the mouse away. “You didn’t bring back any prey. The elders will eat your share. Take it to them.”
Firepaw looked over to Bluestar.
She nodded shortly. “Do as he says.”
Obediently, Firepaw picked up the mouse and carried it across to Smallear. The delicious smell of it wafted up Firepaw’s nose. He wanted nothing more than to crunch it up with his strong teeth. He could almost feel its life energy flooding his young body.
With great self-control, he laid the prey down in front of the gray tom and then backed away politely. He expected no thanks and was offered none.
Now he was glad that he had gobbled up the remains of the rabbit he had caught for Yellowfang. There would be nothing else for him to eat until he went out hunting again tomorrow.
Firepaw wandered over to Graypaw. His friend had eaten his fill and lay with Ravenpaw outside the apprentices’ den. He was stretched out on his side, rhythmically washing a foreleg.
Graypaw saw Firepaw approach, and paused in his licking. “Has Bluestar mentioned your punishment yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Firepaw replied gloomily.
Graypaw narrowed his eyes sympathetically and said nothing.
Bluestar’s call sounded across the clearing. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join together for a meeting of our Clan.”
Most of the warriors had finished eating and, like Graypaw, were busy grooming themselves. They lifted themselves gracefully to their paws and walked over to the Highrock, where Bluestar waited to speak.
“Come on,” mewed Graypaw. He leaped up. Ravenpaw and Firepaw followed him as he scampered over and nudged his way forward into a good position.
“I’m sure you have all heard about the prisoner we brought back with us today,” Bluestar began. “But there is something else you need to know.” She glanced down at the raddled she-cat who lay very still beside the Highrock. “Can you hear me from there?” she asked.
“I may be old, but I’m not deaf yet!” Yellowfang spat in reply.
Bluestar ignored the prisoner’s hostile tone and continued. “I’m afraid I have some very grave news. Today I traveled with a patrol into WindClan territory. The air was filled with the scent of ShadowClan. Almost every tree had been sprayed by ShadowClan warriors. And we met no WindClan cats even though we journeyed deep into their heartland.”
Her words were met with silence. Firepaw saw confusion in the faces of the Clan cats.
“Do you mean ShadowClan has chased them out?” called Smallear hesitantly.
“We can’t be sure,” Bluestar meowed. “Certainly the scent of ShadowClan was everywhere. We found blood, too, and fur. There must have been a battle, though we found no bodies from either Clan.”
A shocked yowl rose from the crowd in a single voice. Firepaw felt the cats around him stiffen with shock and fury. Never before had one Clan driven another from its hunting grounds.
“How can WindClan have been driven out?” One-eye croaked hoarsely. “ShadowClan is fierce, but WindClan is many. They have lived in the uplands for generations. Why have they been chased out now?” She shook her head anxiously, her whiskers trembling.
“I don’t know the answers to any of your questions,” meowed Bluestar. “It is well known that ShadowClan has recently appointed a new leader, following the death of Raggedstar. Their new leader, Brokenstar, gave no hint of any threat when we met him at the last Gathering.”
“Perhaps Yellowfang has answers?” snarled Darkstripe. “After all, she is of ShadowClan!”
“I am no traitor! Nothing would make me share the secrets of ShadowClan with a brute like you!” growled Yellowfang, glaring aggressively at Darkstripe. The ThunderClan warrior moved forward, ears flat, eyes closed to slits, ready for a fight.
“Stop!” yowled Bluestar.
Darkstripe immediately halted in his tracks, even though Yellowfang goaded him on with blazing eyes and a ferocious hiss.
“That’s enough!” Bluestar growled. “This situation is too serious for us to be fighting among ourselves. ThunderClan must prepare itself. From this moonrise onward, warriors will travel in larger groups. Other Clan members will remain close to the camp. Patrols will travel the boundary edges more frequently, and all the kits must stay in the nursery.”