by Erin Hunter
Rowanstar seemed to flinch; the memory clearly pained him. “I understand how you feel, Tigerheart. You care about your Clanmates. You are a good warrior, but leading a Clan that has been torn apart by rogues is hard enough. Leading a Clan when your son and deputy publicly challenges your decisions is impossible.” He gazed at Tigerheart, his eyes glittering solemnly in the darkness.
“I didn’t mean to undermine you,” Tigerheart meowed quickly. “I just wanted to do what was right.”
Rowanstar held his gaze. “Your plan worked. SkyClan promised to return what they stole and everyone was left unscathed.” He stared at the muddy earth for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet Tigerheart’s once more. “I am proud of you. I know that one day you will be a great leader. But it is hard to be eclipsed.”
Sympathy welled in Tigerheart’s chest. Rowanstar wanted to do the best for his Clan, but he didn’t always seem to know how. Had it always been this way? Had he been out of his depth since StarClan named him leader? Perhaps I was too young to realize until now. Tigerheart gazed softly at his father. “How did you know you wanted to be leader?”
Rowanstar blinked back at him. “I’m not sure I did. But when Blackstar made me deputy, I realized the difference between being a leader and a warrior.” Tigerheart leaned forward, pricking his ears as Rowanstar went on. “A leader’s loyalty and heart lie with his Clan. A warrior’s loyalty and heart lie with his leader.” His gaze seemed to reach deep into Tigerheart, tugging guilt from his belly. He’s telling me to trust him. But how can I when I know better? When the sun is strong, the shadows are strong.
“Do you want to lead this Clan?”
Rowanstar’s blunt question took him by surprise. Had his eyes betrayed his thoughts?
“Wh-when my time comes,” Tigerheart stammered. “But there’s no need to think of that now. You have moons left.”
“I mean now.” Rowanstar’s gaze remained steady. “Leaders have stepped down before and handed leadership to their deputy if it’s what is best for the Clan. I will support you if you wish to take my place. I can see that you are strong and wise, despite your youth. If you are ready to lead, I won’t stand in your way.”
Tigerheart could hardly believe his ears. “Now?” Suddenly the rain seemed to harden, filling his eyes and his nose, pressing in on every side until Tigerheart felt he was drowning. Leader? The responsibility snatched his breath. Every cat in the Clan would look to him for guidance, and rely on him to protect them. And I’d never be able to join Dovewing. His heart seemed to split with pain. His paws ached to run from the camp and keep running until he could escape from the endless rain and responsibility and think only of her and his kits.
He realized Rowanstar was staring at him questioningly. “I—I . . .” He could do no more than stutter.
“You aren’t ready,” Rowanstar answered for him gently. He dipped his head sympathetically. “You are still young and inexperienced. It takes courage to lead.”
“I’m not scared,” Tigerheart meowed quickly. “But there are other things I have to think about—”
Rowanstar hardly seemed to hear him. He seemed caught up in his own thoughts. “But if you don’t wish to lead, then you must learn to follow.” He lifted his chin, as though unaware of the lashing rain. “When I make a decision, you must obey. No arguing. No contradicting. You must follow me without question.”
Tigerheart nodded. What else could he do but agree? If he refused to lead, then he couldn’t undermine his leader. “I can do that,” he promised.
“I hope so,” Rowanstar meowed gravely. With a flick of his tail, he turned away and stalked back to Tawnypelt, who was waiting outside his den. Together they disappeared into its shelter.
Tigerheart crossed the clearing. He wanted to look up at the open sky, where the branches of the encircling trees didn’t touch. He stared at the gloomy clouds, which hid the night sky, and breathed deeply through the rain. He’d had a chance to lead ShadowClan. Should he have taken it?
As doubt swirled around him, paw steps sounded at the camp entrance.
Scorchfur and Snowbird padded into camp. Scorchfur was carrying a rabbit between his jaws. He dropped it at Tigerheart’s paws. “SkyClan left this at the border.”
Snowbird looked at the rain-soaked rabbit. “I guess the argument is settled.”
“You were right to stop the battle.” Scorchfur dipped his head to Tigerheart. “You showed SkyClan that ShadowClan deserves respect without blood being shed.”
Snowbird glanced around the deserted clearing. “Rowanstar would have let us fight,” she breathed in a hushed mew. “Puddleshine would be treating our injuries right now. But we have a rabbit instead of wounds because of you.”
Scorchfur nodded. “If you’d been leader in the first place, ShadowClan wouldn’t be in the state it is now.”
Tigerheart stiffened. “That’s not true. Rowanstar hasn’t caused our suffering. That was Darktail’s fault.”
“If we’d had a strong leader, Darktail would never have been able to take over,” Snowbird argued.
“Rowanstar doesn’t know how to lead,” Scorchfur agreed. “From now on, we will only take our orders from you.”
Tigerheart’s belly tightened. No! He’d just promised his father he wouldn’t undermine him. “You can’t—” But Snowbird was already heading to her den. Scorchfur had picked up the rabbit and was carrying it to the fresh-kill pile.
I’m not leader, but I must lead. Tigerheart’s thoughts spun. Without letting Rowanstar see what I’m doing. How was that possible? He felt trapped, tangled by the need to help his Clanmates while honoring his father. Would he ever be able to escape ShadowClan’s plight? What about Dovewing? What about my Clan? His heart ached while questions twisted his thoughts into knots. What about me ? Am I destined to be alone, separated forever from Dovewing and my kits?
CHAPTER 9
Tigerheart shifted in his nest. Snowbird and Scorchfur’s words earlier that night still rang in his ears. From now on, we will only take our orders from you. The den was damp. The moss at the bottom of his nest was soaked with rain. It chilled his pelt. Stonewing and Grassheart breathed softly beside him, lost in sleep. Strikestone turned in his nest with a grunt and began to snore. Tigerheart pushed himself deeper into his nest and tried to sleep.
What should he do? He couldn’t please everyone. The cats he cared about all wanted something different from him. Dovewing wanted a mate; his unborn kits needed a father; Rowanstar needed his obedience; his Clanmates wanted his leadership. He couldn’t help one cat without hurting another.
StarClan, guide me! He sat up in his nest, staring at the roof of the warriors’ den. The stars were so far away, above the brambles, above the rain, beyond the thick clouds. Could his ancestors even see what was happening?
What does my instinct tell me? Protect my kits. Protect my Clanmates. Protect my father. How could he do all three? My dream. He pictured the sun shining on his pelt, his shadow stretching darkly behind him. Was there guidance in the vision that he’d failed to understand?
Puddleshine will know.
Tigerheart stepped softly from his nest and slid from the den. He hurried through the pouring rain to Puddleshine’s den. Gentle snoring sounded inside as Tigerheart ducked through the narrow entrance. In the darkness he could just make out Puddleshine’s shape in his nest. Tigerheart approached quietly and stood beside him. “Puddleshine,” he breathed, wanting to wake the cat gently.
Puddleshine’s eyes opened sharply. The medicine cat leaped up and scrambled to the back of his nest. Hissing, he narrowed his eyes defensively.
Tigerheart stiffened with alarm. Why was Puddleshine so scared? “It’s me. It’s okay. Everything’s fine,” he soothed.
Puddleshine blinked at him, his arched spine dropping as he relaxed. Pelt ruffled, the brown tom hopped from his nest, his white splotches glowing faintly in the gloom. “Sorry,” he mumbled thickly. “I was dreaming. A cat was looming over me in the dream, and I woke u
p and you were . . .” His mew trailed away as though thoughts distracted him. His gaze dropped for a moment; then he stiffened. “It was you!” He blinked at Tigerheart. “You were the cat I was dreaming about.”
Alarm jabbed Tigerheart’s chest. Had StarClan sent a sign after all?
“You were standing in front of me. I felt cold, even though the sun was shining. There was blue sky, but I felt chilly. . . .” He shivered. “Like the coldness of a cave that has never felt the warmth of the sun.”
“The sun?” Tigerheart echoed, his moth dry. Another dream about the sun. “What was I doing?”
“You stood over me, dark and huge, and I realized that the sun was streaming all around you. But you were blocking it.” Puddleshine’s mew slowed thoughtfully. “You were blocking the sunshine.”
Tigerheart stared at him, his thoughts flitting to his own dream. His pelt had shimmered in the sunshine. But the shadow I cast was darker than anything else in the camp. Suddenly he knew what the dream meant. He wasn’t the sun after all! He was getting in the way of the sun! Hadn’t his father faded in the dream? “I shouldn’t be here,” he mewed. Regret choked him as the idea cut through his muddled thoughts as clearly as the warning screech of a magpie. He’d let Dovewing leave without him for nothing. He’d wasted so much time. “If the sun is to be strong and the shadows are to be strong, I must go.”
“No!” Puddleshine leaned toward him. “You were casting a shadow, that’s all. Isn’t that what we need? Yours was the strongest shadow of all.”
Tigerheart hardly heard him. His own thoughts were spinning, faster and faster. No wonder he’d been confused. So many mixed messages. How could he support his father and lead his Clanmates at the same time? Of course it was impossible. He shouldn’t even be here. He should be at Dovewing’s side. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be for his father to lead ShadowClan back to greatness.
“Tigerheart!” Puddleshine’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. “ShadowClan needs you.”
Tigerheart blinked at him. “Don’t worry, Puddleshine. I know exactly what to do.” He dipped his head to the medicine cat. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Where are you going?” Puddleshine called as Tigerheart turned to leave the den.
“I need to get some sleep,” Tigerheart told him. It was true. He hadn’t slept well in days. But he wasn’t going to sleep now. He had something far more important to do. “Go back to your nest,” he told Puddleshine, and hurried out into the rain.
He scanned the clearing. There was no sign of movement. He could only smell the warm scent of sleeping cats curled in damp nests. He checked Puddleshine’s den. The medicine cat hadn’t followed him out. He pricked his ears and heard the rustle of Puddleshine’s nest as the tom climbed back into it.
Dipping his head in farewell to his sleeping Clan, he crept quietly to the camp entrance. He slunk through the tunnel and padded softly into the forest. Only when he was clear of the camp and felt sure the pounding of the rain would disguise the sound of his paw steps did he break into a run. I’m coming, Dovewing. For the first time in days, his heart felt light. It chimed in harmony with his thoughts. He raced for the Thunderpath, like a bird flying for warmer lands, not knowing what his journey held, but certain that he must make it—that making it was the most natural thing he could do. Somewhere, far beyond the Thunderpath, Dovewing was managing alone. He was going to find her and, in another moon, welcome his kits to their new home in the strange gorse-spined den.
CHAPTER 10
Tigerheart slept for a while before dawn. He had crossed the silent Thunderpath easily and let the landscape guide him because he guessed that was what Dovewing would have done. The marshland had led to fields. Hedgerows had led to valleys, which skirted hills and drew him on over farmland where ridges and hollows seemed to create natural paths. All the while he had prayed to StarClan that he was heading the right way, imagining what Dovewing might see and trying to follow her paw steps, trying not to think of the hurt that must have clouded her thoughts as she’d traveled. He had left her to make this journey alone. I’m sorry, Dovewing. I’m coming now.
The days of rain had washed all scents clean, and there was nothing to guide him but hope. As he’d sensed dawn easing the darkness, he’d found shelter in a rocky outcrop and slept. Daylight had woken him, and he’d hunted and caught a mouse. It had warmed him and refreshed his hope that Dovewing lay ahead.
He pushed on, his heart lifting as he saw clear sky opening beyond the gray clouds ahead. As he padded clear of the rain shadow that had drenched the forest for so long, sunshine warmed his pelt. Before long, he felt drier than he had for days. He fluffed out his fur happily. ShadowClan was far behind him, and with every paw step he felt lighter. The worry that had felt like a weight in his chest for so long slowly lifted. He would find Dovewing, even if he had to walk forever.
As the sun began to slide toward the horizon, throwing lazy shadows across his path, he saw a Twolegplace sprawling across the valley ahead. It cluttered the hollow between the enclosing hills with low stone nests, and he could make out a maze of Thunderpaths weaving through it. Instinct told him to go around, but where there were Twoleg nests, there were kittypets. And kittypets might know of the gorse-spined den Dovewing had seen in her dream. Fluffing his fur against the deepening chill of the afternoon, he turned his paws toward the Twolegplace.
He crossed a meadow edged by Twoleg nests. Twoleg smells reached his nose as soon as he neared the small patches of fenced land that lay behind them. Monster stench rolled over him. Strange food scents confused him. How could any cat hunt when prey-scent was hidden by such unnatural odors?
Perhaps that was why kittypets ate the food their Twolegs gave them.
As he wondered about kittypets, a thought lit him with hope. Dovewing might have come this way in search of information about the gorse-spined den, just as he had. A kittypet might have spoken to her. He’d know for sure that he was traveling in the right direction. He reached a wooden fence and jumped. Hooking in his claws, he hauled himself up, sending splinters of sharp-smelling wood showering down behind him. At the top, he warily surveyed the patches of green behind each Twoleg nest. Birds twittered in the trees, which sprouted here and there among the patches. His fur smoothed along his spine with relief. There were no Twolegs, and no scent of dog. No kittypets either. He frowned. He’d have to push deeper into the Twolegplace to find a cat to ask about Dovewing. He spotted an opening between the two closest nests, jumped down, and crossed the grass. Ears pricked, he pushed past a bush and slipped into the shadowy gap.
He crept through it, relieved to see light at the end of a stone-lined path. He hurried along it, his pelt prickling. Monsters were rumbling in the distance. The whooping of Twoleg kits pierced his ear fur. He slowed as he reached the end of the gap and peered out uneasily. A Thunderpath ran between two rows of nests. Stretches of grass, dotted by bushes and young trees, lay beside it. Had Dovewing been here? Longing seared his heart. He should have been with her. He tasted the air, wrinkling his nose. There was no familiar smell to guide him, but he couldn’t stay where he was. He darted from the shadows and hurried that way, ducking beneath a low-spreading willow as a monster growled along the Thunderpath a few tail-lengths ahead. He crouched, waiting as it passed.
His heart fluttered like a trapped bird. He just needed to find one friendly kittypet.
Suddenly an excited mrrow sounded behind him. He spun. His pelt bushed as a soft bundle of fur flew at his face. It toppled clumsily over him and knocked him off his paws. As he rolled clear, he smelled kittypet. A tom, but a young one, his scent faint. Tigerheart darted from beneath the willow, and as the kittypet chased after him, he saw that it was a splotchy ginger tabby, thick-furred and hardly bigger than Whorlpaw. Its yellow eyes flashed excitedly. With a squeak, it reared for another lunge. Tigerheart batted it away. Was this how all kittypets fought?
The ginger tabby seemed unconcerned by the clumsiness of his attacks. Paws fluttered ar
ound his ears like butterflies as Tigerheart ducked another flurry. Then the kittypet bounced around him, ears twitching, fur bushed. “Come on!” he mewed eagerly. “Fight back!”
Tigerheart swallowed a purr. Did the kittypet seriously think this was a real fight? Tigerheart kept his claws sheathed as the tabby flung itself at him once more. He ducked the flailing paws and jabbed his nose beneath the kittypet’s belly. Flicking his head up, he flipped the tom onto its back.
“Wow! Nice!” The kittypet scrambled to its paws and turned on Tigerheart. It ducked beneath Tigerheart’s belly as though trying to copy his move, but when it tried to push up, Tigerheart hopped neatly out of the way. The kittypet spun. “Where’d you go?”
“I’m over here.” Tigerheart sat down and watched the befuddled tabby drop into an ungainly attack crouch. He lifted a paw as the tabby began to wiggle its hindquarters. “Stop.”
The tabby blinked at him. “Why? Am I winning?”
Tigerheart eyed him. “I’m not looking for a fight,” he meowed.
The tabby paused. “But I was winning, right?”
Something seemed to catch the tabby’s eye, because his gaze flashed to the Twoleg den behind Tigerheart. His pelt fluffed excitedly. “Got to go!” he mewed. “Let’s fight again soon.”
Before Tigerheart could speak, the kittypet hared past him, leaped a stretch of small shrubs, and disappeared into the shadows between two nests.
Tigerheart stared after him. What was that all about? If the kittypet was defending its border, then it wasn’t very good at it. Perhaps it was just hoping to scare him off. Did the tabby think that a few soft jabs were enough to scare a warrior away? Kittypets must have bees in their brain. He shook out his pelt and crossed the grass. Following the Thunderpath, he skirted the row of Twoleg nests. The sun was slipping toward the hillside.