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Brackenfoot surged upward, flinging Raggedpaw off him and rolling him over in the snow. “What was that again?” he asked mildly as Raggedpaw scrambled up with snow clumped all over his pelt.
    Yellowkit let out a gleeful mrrow to see that her father hadn’t lost the battle after all. Raggedpaw thinks he’s so great …
    Raggedpaw glared at his mentor. “You cheated! You pretended to be beaten!”
    “And you think that an enemy won’t do that when you fight in a real battle? You’re doing well, Raggedpaw, and you’ll be a great fighter one day, but you still have a lot to learn.”
    Raggedpaw shook himself, spraying snow everywhere. His shoulders sagged. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. Will you teach me that move?”
    “Another time,” Brackenfoot promised. “We’ve done enough for today. Let’s get back to camp, and you can take something from the fresh-kill pile.”
    “Thanks!” Raggedpaw’s eyes glowed. “I’m starving !”
    Brackenfoot turned toward the camp entrance and Raggedpaw was about to follow. Suddenly he froze and Yellowkit shrank back as she realized the apprentice was staring straight at her.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” Raggedpaw demanded. “Hey, Brackenfoot, Yellowkit’s spying on us!”
    Brackenfoot glanced back, spotting his daughter among the thorns. “Don’t be such a mouse-brain,” he told Raggedpaw. “Yellowkit can watch if she wants. She might learn something.”
    Raggedpaw let out a snort of disgust, but said nothing more. Her fur hot with embarrassment, Yellowkit scrambled backward until she reached the fallen tree again. Tearing off a pawful of thick moss, she scampered across the camp to soak it in the puddle before carrying it to the elders’ den.
    “Here, Silverflame,” she mumbled around her mouthful as she poked her head underneath the branches. “I brought you a drink.”
    All three elders were huddled together in the shelter of the stump. Littlebird narrowed her eyes at Yellowkit. “Keep that wet moss away from our bedding,” she snapped.
    “Yes,” Lizardfang agreed. “You should know better than to bring it in here.”
    Yellowkit suppressed an angry hiss, remembering she ought to be polite to the elders, even when they were being a pain in the tail.
    “Leave her alone,” Silverflame meowed. “That was a very kind thought, Yellowkit.” Gesturing with her tail, she added, “Put the moss down there, well away from the bedding.”
    When Yellowkit had obeyed, Silverflame stretched out her neck and lapped at the dripping fronds. “Great StarClan, that’s good,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
    Shooting a smug glance at the two other elders, Yellowkit was about to reply when she heard Cedarstar’s voice from outside in the camp.
    “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!”
    “For StarClan’s sake, what now?” Lizardfang complained.
    Dipping her head briefly to the elders, Yellowkit backed out of the den, almost colliding with her mother as she spun around to see what was going on.
    “There you are!” Brightflower exclaimed. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
    “Why? What’s happening?” Yellowkit mewed.
    Just behind her mother, she spotted Rowankit and Nutkit, looking unusually well groomed. Nutkit was bouncing up and down on his paws, while Rowankit’s eyes were wide and shining.
    “You’re going to be made apprentices,” Brightflower explained.
    Yellowkit stared at her. “Now?”
    “Yes, now, and just look at you!” Brightflower darted out a paw and snagged a spiky twig that was stuck in Yellowkit’s pelt. “Any cat would think you’d been wriggling through thorns all day.”
    Yellowkit stood still while Brightflower gave her a quick grooming, flicking bits of thorn and moss out of her fur, and smoothing it with strong strokes of her tongue.
    Meanwhile the cats of ShadowClan were gathering around the Clanrock. All three elders poked their