Chapter 5


The days passed by Yellowkit one by one like falling leaves. Kit life seemed dreary and pointless ever since the battle of the rats, in more ways than one. Mousekit spent nearly all of his time healing up in the medicine cat den, though he was noticeably regaining his strength and his personality. While Foxkit, Wolfkit, and Mudkit were quite content playing Chase The Frog and Clan Leader and Leap Toad, Yellowkit and Moonkit found themselves lying around the clearing, unsure of what to do. Without Mousekit games seemed empty and lonesome despite the number of kits, and chasing after imaginary prey and fighting feigned enemies now seemed so...mundane. The rats she fought were real, far too real, with blood running inside their veins and teeth that could very well rip her apart. A real enemy. Kit games seemed so kit-like, and Yellowkit was done being a kit.

Only a half moon had went by since the fight, yet things seemed so different. Lizardpaw no longer even approached the nursery, so Yellowkit rarely saw a hair of her pelt anymore. Not that this was a bad thing. She knew it was mainly because Lizardpaw was so busy cleaning after the elders by herself as a punishment for her role in the rat battle, leaving Cloudpaw with extra battle and hunting training and time for himself, but Yellowkit also had a feeling that Lizardpaw was trying her hardest to make sure her path never crossed the kits she left to die.

But Yellowkit knew she wasn't the only one who was off the hook here. At first, her Clanmates were nice enough to her because they knew how traumatized she and Moonkit had been after the battle, and how they would both feel responsible if Mousekit had died. But now that time was passing and Mousekit was remarkably healing, things were becoming different. Yellowkit may be tired of being a kit but she knew she would have to stay in the nursery longer than most as a punishment. She could only wonder how much longer Brindlestar would have them wait for their apprentice ceremony. She hoped that with so few apprentices left, her leader would not delay them for too long.

And due to Mousekit's miraculous recovery, Yellowkit figured he would probably join them in the ceremony. Mousekit was practically himself again, much to Startail's delight and Yellowkit's private dismay. Of course, she was happy Mousekit was healed, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to Mousestar's pretentiousness. Sagewhisker even found him to be a rowdy bunch; he would often chase after her tail and sometimes scamper around in her den, making a mess of the supplies. Yellowkit would have offered to help clean up if she hadn't known that Mousekit would simply make yet another blunder of the carefully wrapped herbs yet again.

Speaking of the kit, Yellowkit turned and saw Mousekit poke his head out of the medicine cat den. Even from there Yellowkit could see the gleam in his yellow eyes. The young tom trotted across the clearing, a dim ray of cold sunlight catching on his fur. Or at least, what's left of it. Some of the fur grew back, but Sagewhisker told her that most of his pelt would remain a rugged, tattered mess. Some parts grew thicker than most, and in other parts pale flesh was exposed. Yellowkit thought that some of the senior warriors had patchy pelts similar to this, but never on any of the kits or apprentices. But Mousekit didn't seem to mind. In fact, he actually favored it.

"Oh, Yellowkit!" Mousekit called out. The young tabby thumped over to her on delighted paws. Even at four moons and half of his pelt torn away, he still was the largest kit in the nursery. "Thank StarClan you're awake. Let's do something!"

"We can't be too loud. Half the warriors are sleeping." Yellowkit objected. It was midday and most of the warriors who night-hunted the evening before were snoring away. And besides, she didn't want to anger any more cats; she had to be on her best behavior for a while longer.

"Come on!" Mousekit whined. "We don't have to play any of those silly kit games. Let's go explore the camp entrance or something like that!"

"Don't you remember the last time we went exploring?" Yellowkit scoffed in partial disbelief. "You nearly, I mean, really, had your fur ripped off!"

Mousekit narrowed his eyes. "I'm not suggesting that we go to the Carrionplace hunting rats." He said cynically. "And as if you're one to talk. You may still have all of your fur but I was the one who did all the fighting. And I do seem to recall telling you guys to climb the hill. If it wasn't for me, you'd be crow-food!"

"Can't you two stop bickering for an instant?" Sagewhisker's voice crept up on them. The white she-cat gave them both a stern look. "I would have thought this experience would have bonded you three together more."

Mousekit sat up straighter. "Have you talked to Brindlestar yet?" He begged. "I'm sorry I keep asking, but I'm dying to know!"

"Dying to know what?" Yellowkit said in exasperation. "If she's going to delay the apprentice ceremony? I want to know too, but what does it matter to you? You're only four moons old. You're not going to become an apprentice yet anyway."

Mousekit waved her away with his tail. "That's not it, frog-brain." The kit derided with annoyance. "I know I won't be an apprentice yet. What I want to know is if Brindlestar will hold a renaming ceremony."

"A renaming ceremony? For who, you?" Yellowkit tipped her head to one side.

"Yes!" Mousekit nodded. "And why shouldn't I? Cats get their names changed if things happen to them all the time."

"I wouldn't say all the time." Sagewhisker said, her voice slightly hesitant. "But yes, it's been done. There used to be an elder here, before you two were born, who had changed his name to Deadnose when he lost his sense of smell. But not every cat does this. Seedfur didn't want to change his name when we all found out he couldn't hear out of one of his ears."

"But I want to!" Mousekit insisted. "Think about how cool it would be. Brindlestar could give me a much better name than Mousekit. Something worthy of a warrior, you know? Maybe Roughkit or Shredkit or Patchkit!"

"Or Ratkit." Yellowkit quipped, her voice ending with a snicker.

Sagewhisker shook her head with good nature, then mewed to Mousekit, "If you want to change your name, I don't see why Brindlestar would advise otherwise. It might take a little bit longer to convince your mother, but eventually she'll come around to it. But are you sure it's what you want to do? Lots of cats have Mouse in their names. It's not a bad name, it's actually kind of-"

"Yes!" Mousekit piped up. His shredded pelt bristled with enthusiasm. "I want to be more than just a runt who grew out of his kitten paws. Please, let me change it!"

Sagewhisker dipped her head, and turned in the direction of the Leader's den. "Very well." The medicine cat meowed, though Yellowkit caught a gleam of some faraway emotion she did not recognize dwelling in her sister's eyes. "I'll go see Brindlestar, and I will let you know what she says."

When the medicine cat padded away, Yellowkit glanced over at the young, scarred kit. "Are you really sure about this?" She heard herself saying.

"You know how much I hate my name! Believe me I'm ready for a new one." Mousekit flexed his soft, kit-like claws. "Believe me, I'm sure about this."


"Are you sure about this?" Startail fretted, entwining her slender body around her battered kit. When the black-pelted queen had learned that Mousekit was planning to have Brindlestar rename him for something more fitting to his battle-scarred pelt, she was not particularly pleased. She was a very warm, forgiving she-cat who didn't love her son any less despite the scars, but it was clear that she didn't prefer his name to serve as a constant reminder of them.

"Yes." The eagerness of the prospective of changing his name didn't wear off, but Mousekit was holding it in a more dignified manner. "Brindlestar won't name me something cruel. It'll be okay!"

"But I named you Mousekit." She said sadly. "It wasn't because you were a runt or anything like that. Your name could still be something brave and warrior-like when you become one."

The dark tabby pressed closer to Startail and touched his nose to her soft muzzle. "Please, mother." He mewed. "I don't see Mousekit anymore in my reflection. I need to hear who I am, hear the name of the cat I see staring back at me in puddles."

The young she-cat looked like she wanted to say more, but she simply nodded and stepped away, joining the ranks of cats who were beginning to swell the clearing for Mousekit's ceremony. Yellow eyes flash throughout the crowd as the night sky darkened and darkened, for ShadowClan had a tendency for holding its ceremonies in the blackness of night with only the stars as witness. Brindlestar leaped onto the High Boulder with strong hind legs, with Stonetooth standing close to the rock with all four paws planted firmly upon the ground. The leader and deputy of ShadowClan were littermates, and the senior warriors sometimes talked of how powerful and feared the two cats were in their youth. Yellowkit could see their fur beginning to gray, little by little, but they still seemed muscular and fierce among the Clan.

Brindlestar gazed down at the young tom with unreadable yellow eyes. Mousekit stood up and kept his head cocked high, his tail raised, his scraggy fur lying still along his pelt. Brindlestar lifted her chin and began to speak in a loud, strong voice. "Spirits of StarClan, you know every cat by name." The aged leader meowed. "I ask you now to take away the name from the cat you see before you, for it no longer stands for what he is. By my authority as Clan leader, and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name."

Yellowkit exchanged an unsure look with Moonkit. Startail sat beside her daughter and appeared to be holding her breath. The shadows of cats rippled ever so slightly as the Clan waited to hear the new name. The breeze was low but the air was bitter, biting at Yellowkit's ears and her nose. Mousekit stood, unmoved, his eyes trained on the leader, or perhaps, maybe only the boulder itself.

The intricate tortoiseshell marks on Brindlestar's dark coat fluttered as shadows dappled over it. "From this moment on, this young kit will be known as Raggedkit, for his shredded, patchy pelt. Let this new name serve as a reminder of the many perils that dwell within our forests and beyond, and the strength that all ShadowClan cats contain when the danger rises up against them."

Brindlestar did not step down to rest her head along the young tabby's shoulder as this was not a warrior ceremony; instead, she delicately stepped down from the boulder on long, battle-scarred legs, brushing her pelt against her brother's thin gray striped fur. Marshclaw began the chant, "Raggedkit!" And then the word bounced off the tongues of every ShadowClan cat as they called to welcome the newly named kit.

"Raggedkit! Raggedkit! Raggedkit!"

Startail reached her son first, drawing the tip of her long tail along his chest. "It is a nice name," She murmured, brushing her nose against one of his ears. Moonkit looked delighted, batting at her brother with soft, playful paws.

Raggedkit was practically glowing under the shine of his Clanmates' approval, kneading the ground with false modesty. "Raggedkit," The dark tabby purred, letting the name linger on his tongue as if it contained some kind of savory flavor. Yellowkit sat a few tail-lengths away, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, though the desire was awfully hard to deny. Raggedkit's ego will be high among the clouds now. He'll be insufferable now! She kept telling herself that she was thankful he was alive, but she couldn't help but wish the rats had driven out some of his arrogance.

Brindlestar remained beside Stonetooth, watching Raggedkit calmly, though Yellowkit thought she could see a storm of emotion flickering in her leader's eyes. Yellowkit remembered the stories of Flameclaw, and many of them seemed to recall the close friendship between Brindlestar and the young warrior. Did Brindlestar ever see any of Flameclaw's fire contained within his son? They say the brightest of fires burned out the quickest.

And while the dullest of fires live the longest, they're the most miserable.