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Lionheart followed her. The other Clan cats began to move away from the Highrock. One or two congratulated Firepaw on being chosen as Bluestar’s apprentice; others mockingly wished him luck looking after Yellowfang. Firepaw felt so dazed by Bluestar’s announcement that he just nodded blankly.
Longtail padded up to him. The vee-shaped nick that Firepaw had cut into the tip of his ear still showed. The young warrior drew back his whiskers into an ugly snarl. “Well, I hope you’ll think twice about bringing strays back into the camp next time,” he sneered. “Like I said, outsiders always bring trouble.”
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 still lying beside the Highrock. Graypaw was right; she was glaring at him.
“Well, here goes,” he mewed. “Wish me luck!”
“You’ll need the whole of StarClan on your side for this one,” answered Graypaw. “Call out if you need a hand. If she looks like she’s going to have you, I’ll sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit.”
Firepaw purred with amusement and trotted off toward Yellowfang. 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 still 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 call me what you like,” he mewed wearily. “I’m just following Bluestar’s orders.”
“You are a kittypet, though, aren’t you?” Yellowfang 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 still viewed him as an outsider. He certainly didn’t have to answer to this foul-tempered prisoner.
Yellowfang 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 still 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!”
Yellowfang 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 well enough to look after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag!”
He stopped as Yellowfang began to make a low, harsh, wheezing sound.
Alarmed, Firepaw took a step toward her. The she-cat was trembling all 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,” Yellowfang 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’ll 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 killing 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 small grassy clearing. A tall 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 Yellowfang’s list of herbs and seeds.
“I’ve got most of those in my den,” replied Spottedleaf. “I’ll fetch some marigold leaves too. If she dresses her wound with that, it’ll 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 smell the heady scents of unfamiliar herbs.
Spottedleaf emerged from the gloom and dropped a bundle folded in leaves by Firepaw’s feet. “Tell Yellowfang 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 will help me judge how well 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 Yellowfang, 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 Yellowfang.
“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 Yellowfang had entered the camp. Firepaw woke early and nudged Graypaw, who was still asleep beside him, his nose tucked under his thick tail. “Wake up,” Firepaw mewed. “Or you’ll 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 rolled 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 Yellowfang was awake yet.
She had been given a resting place at the other end of the fallen tree where the elders gathered to eat. Her nest lay tucked against its mossy trunk, out of hearing of the elders, but in full view of the warriors’ den across the clearing. Firepaw could just see a mound of pale gray fur, rising and falling in time to a gentle rumble of sleep.
Graypaw trotted out of the den behind him, followed by Sandpaw and Dustpaw. Ravenpaw appeared last, with a nervous glance around the clearing before he emerged fully 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 will have you back in training before long.”
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“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’ll be waiting.”
“I’ll come with you to the top of the ravine,” mewed Firepaw. “I have to catch breakfast for Yellowfang. Coming, Ravenpaw? Tigerclaw must have something planned for you.”
Ravenpaw sighed and nodded, then followed Graypaw and Firepaw as they trotted out of the camp. Even though his injury was completely healed, he still seemed to have little enthusiasm for warrior training.
