#pre bloodclan is here I'm sure still

[sunnymoon-sunshine]

Yellowfang has always been one of my absolute favorite characters. It seems that I’m not in the minority when I say that, either - Yellowfang’s grumpy demeanor and her inner strength make her a likable character. Her bond with Fireheart, in which she takes on the role of a guide and parental figure of sorts is nearly as heartwarming as the friendship she forges with Cinderpelt after the latter’s accident.

So you can imagine my surprise and delight when I learned that Yellowfang was to get her own super edition, Yellowfang’s Secret, which would be a peek into Yellowfang’s life in ShadowClan before her exile. Finally! A book about Yellowfang herself! Surely it would be good... right?

About the moment I flipped to the page where it was revealed Yellowfang had her own secret power, my disappointment was as great and bitter as if I’d bitten into a lemon. It was at this point that OotS was winding down, and we’d been promised no more powers, and yet someone - be it author or editor, decided to bestow upon Yellowfang the most useless and needless power. The ability to feel when someone was hurt. Why.

I feel as if this introduction was made solely in an attempt to capture the attention of the reader in a loud and demanding way, while also easily and lazily patching the plot. Why did Yellowfang become a medicine cat? Why, of course - ! It’s because she has to! She can’t be a warrior if she’s feeling everyone elses’ pain. That would just be silly. It also perpetuates the trend of cats being forced into the role of medicine cat, which is incredibly frustrating.

Additionally, I’ll always dislike how Raggedstar was portrayed in this. For how he was talked about in Into the Wild, he was a decent leader for ShadowClan and at least somewhat well respected. The character butchering they performed on him is disappointing.

So, if I were to rewrite Yellowfang’s Secret, I would begin with a major overhaul of well... nearly everything. I’m not sure if I would start out in her kithood or not - seems redundant. We don’t need to know what her kithood is like.

Yellowfang is a newly made ShadowClan warrior with a lot of promise. Fast, sharp with teeth made for snapping tails, she quickly makes a name for herself in ShadowClan, and outside of it. She takes not an enthusiastic approach to this, but a more solemn - if she didn’t have such a temper, she’d likely be a future candidate for deputyship. Cedarstar is far wiser than to put his clan in her paws, however. Raggedpelt, who is just a slight bit older than Yellowfang herself, seems to have the most potential for the position, not as fierce but calmer, wiser.

And the clan is endlessly amused by him and Yellowfang, their constant back and forth quips and lighthearted snaps. It’s clear to everyone that only Raggedpelt can calm the raging Yellowfang. They make good friends, despite their occasional disagreements.

Yet the faintest whisper, like a breeze in the marsh, ruffles the fur of her ears. “You will carry a secret, Yellowfang,” Comes the whisper of one - or is it many? “A secret that will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

But for all her talent, Yellowfang grows weary of the blood on her paws. Every battle has the cries of cats echoing in her ears as they weep for their loved ones. And it sickens her that she perpetuates the cycle of endless war and death. Her temper is as sharp as her claws, but her empathy is far stronger than any ShadowClan cat could imagine. She feels like a warrior through and through, but looking into the eyes of a terrified WindClan cat as they’re cornered, as they look for escape from what they must see as certain death. His eyes are wide, and the scrappy black-and-white cat looks about as terrified as the prey she corners in the marsh. He looks barely old enough to be a warrior, and she feels not the stab of rage that WindClan dared step foot on her territory, but a sinking feeling in her heart. She almost wants to comfort him. Instead, she steps aside. She allows him to leave, and he shoots off immediately - but he pauses to glance back at her. “Go!” She barks, and he nearly jumps out of his fur, pelting off into the fray.

She nearly gets in trouble for her moment of mercy. ShadowClan is not known for their acts of kindness, a reputation that Cedarstar would like to keep. His voice is stern as he tells her to fight. “He went on to nearly tear the fur off Deerleap. Your duty is to listen to orders, Yellowfang, and that order is to fight until either you, or they, cannot fight any longer.”

Yellowfang feels frustration from the tips of her claws to the tip of her tail. Cedarstar had made a decent point, yet her frustrated and stubborn side would not yield. He did not look at that small, scrappy WindClan warrior and see what she saw - he was an enemy.

She saw nothing but a scared cat.

At the gathering, she sees him again. He’s among the WindClan cats, who generally are avoiding their ShadowClan neighbors during this full moon. It’s why she’s surprised when, during the leaders’ reports, she hears a hiss in her ear. It’s so soft she barely hears it, yet she’ll remember the words for years to come.

“Thank you.”

It’s also at this gathering that she learns of Hawkheart, a warrior turned medicine cat. This piques her interest - she didn’t even know that was an option.

As the days go on and life becomes harder as the snow sets in, Yellowfang is still ever the fierce warrior. Yet she harbors a secret wish - that she didn’t have to be. She goes and helps Sagewhisker during these times, something that Sagewhisker was initially reluctant to do - until she found Yellowfang’s potential as an assistant. Curt as she may be, she begins dabbling at teaching Yellowfang herbs when she can, though it seems Cedarstar is determined to keep her out of the medicine cat den and “Not waste time on herbs when there’s mouths to feed.”

“Grumpy old-” Sagewhisker used a few good curses that would have made Yellowfang cuff her ears. “Thinks that claws and teeth are the only useful things in this clan. No respect for this den!” She snaps a twig between her teeth to vent her frustration. “If his warriors would learn what a leaf would do, maybe I wouldn’t be so busy all the time! Maybe if he didn’t preach fight first, ask questions later, I’d have an apprentice at this point!”

Yellowfang pauses, claws working in the dirt. It feels as if she’s teetering on the edge of something, yet she doesn’t know what. As if this conversation is about to decide something important. “An apprentice?” Sagewhisker is in a mood, this much is clear. “Yes, an apprentice! StarClan knows, there have been a few good candidates, yet he always shoves them along the path of a warrior.” She shoves aside a pile of moss, tail flicking irritably. “Now look at me. Old and no apprentice. StarClan has a sick sense of humor.”

“I could be your apprentice.”

Yellowfang catches flack from her old warrior peers. It is the hardest part of the year, and she’s retreated to the medicine cat den, where she’s guaranteed a meal and no longer forced to hunt or patrol for the clan’s needs. It doesn’t stop her from hunting when she has the time, but Sagewhisker demands her attention at nearly all times of the day, giving her barely a chance to rest. It feels as if her new mentor is trying to bestow seasons of training onto her in a short couple of moons. That, and Raggedpelt seems shocked, hurt, and even heartbroken. It had never really occured to her that he might have taken a fancy to her, and it’s only now that she’s under a strict code that permits no such pleasure that she feels her fur grow warm when she sees him. The clan resents her, her leader is dismayed that one of his most fierce warriors has disappeared into the healer’s den, and cold frogs are the only thing anyone is bringing home. She takes the stringiest of them.

Yet as the season goes on, it quickly becomes apparent that Yellowfang has a natural talent for medicine. She’s got a sharp memory, quick to take action, and has fixed more wounds and illnesses in a moon than Sagewhisker could do in a season (though, no one would say that aloud, for fear of inciting Sagewhisker’s wrath). She proves to be just as useful an asset to ShadowClan as a medicine cat than she was as a warrior - if not more valuable now than she was before. The clan soon respects her talents, as do the other clans. Her and Hawkheart share a friendship based off of their mutual beginnings (and frustration over their “stupid, bloody useless warriors”).

Raggedpelt, now deputy, has taken to escorting her around the territory. “You never know when one of those kittypet rogues will jump out. I have to keep our medicine cat safe.”

“I could rip the fur off your shoulders before you could flinch.”

“Remind me to stop being nice to you.”

The two become close, and Yellowfang is head over paws for him. He’s the ideal warrior, strong and couragous and loyal to a fault. He doesn’t understand Yellowfang’s desire not to fight any longer, but he sees no problem with the two of them sneaking out at night. After all, there’s no harm in a little fun. The rule medicine cats have is ridiculous, anyway. She laps up his words, finding she wanted nothing more to believe him.

And then came the day she realized she was carrying kits.

Sagewhisker covers for her solely because she has no other apprentice she could train on such short notice. They tell no one, because Cedarstar would snatch Yellowfang from her position, ignoring any protest Sagewhisker might have. ShadowClan needs a medicine cat to carry on healing and communicating with StarClan, despite what “that old fool thinks.” Sagewhisker spits. But she’s furious with Yellowfang too. “I told you that you have to drop your warrior habits. I told you that you’re a medicine cat now, and to act like it. StarClan will punish you, Yellowfang. You mark my words.”

It doesn’t really occur to her what that punishment could possibly be, until she’s alone kitting on the outskirts of the marsh. No one could help her. Sagewhisker had to stay in camp - not that it was likely she would help regardless. It’s a long, grueling process, and in the end, it was nearly for naught. Two kits gone, only a small, sad scrap who fought to get at her belly and nurse. She wasn’t sure if he would make the trip back. But he did, hours later, and she felt a sense of unease as she placed the newborn kit by the belly of Lizardstripe, arguably the most unlikeable cat in the clan.

She wanted to walk with Raggedpelt. To receive some sort of comfort after her trial. But their relationship slowly faded, as each grew busier with their jobs. And it wasn’t as if he put much effort into seeing her either way. Yet she almost prefers it this way. It’s freeing, in a sense. She can go back to being a medicine cat first and foremost for the clan, watching from afar as he helps raise their child. And she never quite stopped admiring Raggedpelt for the fantastic warrior, deputy, and eventual leader he became. Calmer, cooler headed than Cedarstar, with just enough of a soft spot for Yellowfang to get away with a lot more than Sagewhisker was ever able to. It also helped that Yellowfang’s nasty temper never swayed - she would hold warriors back from the frontlines without hesitation if she felt they shouldn’t be out there, fool-headed leader or not.

Brokenkit grew into a fine apprentice, then warrior. Not the strongest at first, but he made up for it with his craft and skill. He was a smooth talker, able to weedle his way out of any punishment, and convince anyone of anything he wanted them to believe. She felt nothing but pride - and perhaps a flicker of worry. She had nightmares of a snake, bent at the tail end, hovering above her and waiting for her to strike. She tried her best to guide him. He ignored her - she was just a medicine cat, after all. Lizardstripe’s parenting left a lot to be desired, and Raggedpelt’s habit of spoiling him and ignoring his more worrying traits led Yellowfang to pace the den. It was something Sagewhisker would have yelled at her for, yet the den was empty. Sagewhisker had been buried under her favorite tree - a spiky, gnarled tree that was just as prickly as she was. It was her last request. “Make it a pain for them to bury me there, too.” She rasped to Yellowfang. “I want them to suffer for all the headaches they’ve given me.”

The silence in the den was deafening. For the first time in a long time, she felt alone. It was as if there was a chasim between her and the warriors, her and everyone else. The path of a medicine cat was a lonely, drawn out path, she finds. Even when she walks with Raggedpelt to the moonstone, even when they laugh and joke and prod each other just like old times, it still feels as if there’s a barrier between them.

He’s long grown out of his love for Yellowfang. She still holds a sort of affection for him, warm - yet not quite romantic. A healthy respect, and admiration, yet she feels comfortable where she is without him as her mate. She cheers him on as he gains his nine lives, and they walk out of the Moonstone together with a new hope for the future of ShadowClan.

That lasts until his first deputy passes. Raggedstar, the old fool, overlooks all the other potential leaders - the hardworking Nightpelt, most insultingly of all - for his son, who had barely finished training an apprentice. He claims the timing of it all is a sign from StarClan that his son has earned the position. Yellowfang uses a few choice curses she learned from Sagewhisker when she discusses it with him later.

“Fiddle-headed fool,” She spats, the nicest thing she’s said to him that night. “Flea-bitten idiotic puddle of marsh water. Your son isn’t a leader. He’s barely a warrior, with a fool for a father.”

“He’s earned his position.” Raggedstar argues, though he’s backed against the far end of his den. Yellowfang, though a medicine cat, is still one of the most intimidating felines of the forest. “Foxheart’s passed, and he’s just finished training an apprentice.”

“Giving a warrior an apprentice is supposed to gauge if they’re ready to be deputy, not give them a free pass for the position!” Yellowfang spits. “Just look at what happened. Clawface is just as much of a fool as you. He’s a disaster. Bloodthirsty, battle-hungry. It’s a fight to keep his claws on this side of the border.”

“It’s not Brokentail’s fault how Clawface turned out. He was naturally headed in that direction. He did his best, and I’m sure his next apprentice will do better.” Raggedstar stands up straight, and marches over to her. He shoves his muzzle in her face, and whispers as quiet as a mouse’s breath, “Don’t you trust our son?”

Yellowfang takes a deep breath to steady herself, before shoving her muzzle back in his face. “No more than I trust a rat in the carrion place.”

When she leaves the den, Brokentail is sitting just outside. They make eye contact, and she realizes that he caught most of the conversation. For a horrible moment, she fears he heard Raggedstar’s words. But no, there was no confusion or hurt or any other feelings she would assume a cat finding out his true parentage would feel. Instead, there’s something cold in the pit of those amber eyes. It fills her with a sense of unease.

Yellowfang is sure she’s made an enemy of her son.

Moons go by, and it’s clear Brokentail is hungry for battle and territory. Raggedstar has a difficult time telling him no, however Yellowfang was quick to fill in the gaps. It was, in some strange, twisted way, as if they were a family. Yet Brokentail dragged them into skirmishes, started battles, lost them warriors and lost Raggedstar lives.

“You only have one life,” Raggedstar comments to his son, limping along. He’d sacrificed himself to save the idiot boy. “You ought not to be so foolish.”

Moons later, it was proven that even nine lives does not equal to eternity. Raggedstar was found in pieces, and Yellowfang could do nothing but mourn. He as a fine cat, a great warrior and a good leader for ShadowClan.

Her period of mourning was cut short when Brokentail received his nine lives, and proceeded to drive ShadowClan into the ground. She spoke out, yet it felt like her voice was the only one raised. The rest of the clan, raised on a diet of battles and violence, seemed to agree with him at first. And then, once kits were being sent out to war, unable to find their voices. It was for the greater good, after all. They drove out WindClan, after all, and got all this territory for their children. Their children, who Yellowfang pointed out with bitterness in her voice, who lay scattered and dead in WindClan camp.

She didn’t save Tallstar all those years ago, only to have him driven out of his own camp. She argued, fought, spat at Brokenstar, unwilling to let him continue any longer without fierce opposition.

“You never liked me, did you?” He interrupted her during one of her tirades.

She pauses, her mouth open. Then she shuts it. She closes her eyes, and sinks her claws into the ground, and chews on her words before she speaks them. “I did.”

“Old fool.”

She should have seen it coming. She should have realized he’d make sure she couldn’t oppose him any more.

She didn’t realize he would drive her not only from her position, but from her clan.

They had to have known that she didn’t kill those kits. Yet no one said a word, too afraid of the rogues in camp, too afraid of Brokenstar’s wrath. Too afraid of the ShadowClan they’d allowed to flourish under Brokenstar’s rule. She fled for her life, across the thunderpath where they would not follow her, into territory she’d barely ever stepped foot in. Into ThunderClan territory. Where she would meet a determined young apprentice, foolhardy enough to give her food. Who would grow into the finest warrior she’d ever seen. Even better than Raggedstar himself. A cat she could be proud to know.

StarClan was wrong. However hard her secret tried to follow her, it could not haunt her forever. As Fireheart stood over her, warmer than even the fire around her, she hurt from pride. She would have loved for him to have been her son, but this is how things were. He listened to her secret, and if he cast judgement, it did not reflect on his expression, which never shifted from panic. He would miss her. She would miss him.

But her secret was out, after all this time. And now she truly felt peace.

Judge me as you will, StarClan.