“Fireheart, help me!” As Bramblekit screamed, he let go of the branch and dropped toward the ground. Tigerclaw watched, unable to breathe, as Fireheart managed to catch the kit in his mouth. There was no way they would make it down the trunk now. Fireheart began to creep along the branch, still carrying Bramblekit. Every hair on Tigerclaw’s pelt stood on end, urging him to fly through the air and somehow rescue his son. But his weight would only bring the branch crashing down into the flames. He had to let Fireheart do this alone.
The flames leaped up to reach the branch and there was a terrible crack. The branch started to fall, but Fireheart somehow managed to jump clear at the last moment and grasp the side of the ravine. Bramblekit lurched, and Tigerclaw braced himself to plunge down into the river of fire, but Fireheart kept hold of the tiny cat and began to claw his way to the top of the cliff. Below him, the burning tree filled the ravine with flames, blocking any sight of Yellowfang and Halftail.
Tigerclaw realized he was trembling. Thank you, StarClan, for sparing my son. He drew back into the ferns and glowered at Fireheart, who had made it to the rest of his Clanmates and was being fawned over like he had saved the entire forest on his own. You may have saved my son, but this changes nothing, Tigerclaw growled under his breath. I will still kill you when I have the chance.
Chapter 10
“Don’t lie there like a dead pigeon! Go for his hind legs!” Tigerclaw hissed. Oakpaw was sprawled on his back, felled by a blow from an apprentice named Rowanpaw. The lithe ginger tom danced out of the way, purring.
“Too slow, Oakpaw!” he taunted.
Tigerclaw lashed his tail. “Are you going to let your enemy speak to you like that?” he challenged Oakpaw.
The pale brown cat scrambled to his feet. “No way!” He launched himself at Rowanpaw, paws flailing. Rowanpaw fell back with a grunt, and Tigerclaw noted with satisfaction that Oakpaw had unsheathed his claws and drawn blood. Slowly, slowly, these ShadowClan cats were learning.
“Is Rowanpaw hurt?” mewed a worried voice behind him. Tigerclaw turned to see Runningnose emerging from a clump of bracken, his nose moist as usual, and his eyes cloudy with concern.
“He’s fine,” Tigerclaw meowed. “He’ll move quicker next time, that’s all.”
Runningnose nodded. “I trust you to train these apprentices to fight in any battle, Tigerclaw,” he murmured. “No cat could doubt your loyalty to our Clan.”
Not for a moment, Tigerclaw thought. When he had returned from watching ThunderClan burn, he had let the ShadowClan cats believe that his shocked look was due to his fear that the flames would cross the Thunderpath. Tigerclaw had insisted on patrolling that border alone all day, watching long hollow snakes spurt water onto the burning trees while Twolegs scurried about, yelping. Even after three sunrises, the woods still smelled of smoke, and blackened, charred trunks could be seen deep in ThunderClan territory. Tigerclaw wondered if Bluestar had brought her cats back to the ravine yet. All of the dens would need rebuilding, and prey would be scarce, driven off or killed by the flames.
“I wondered if I could have a word?” Runningnose mewed beside him, jerking him out of his thoughts.
“Of course.” Tigerclaw checked that Oakpaw and Rowanpaw weren’t actually killing each other, then led the medicine cat away from the training area into a circle of hawthorns. “Is something wrong?”
Runningnose blinked. “The full moon is coming. How can ShadowClan go to the Gathering when we have no leader, no deputy?” He scraped at the ground. “But if we don’t go, every other Clan will know that something is wrong. Perhaps I should just ask StarClan to send clouds to cover the moon!” He strained to sound lighthearted, but Tigerclaw could smell fear coming from the old cat’s ruffled pelt.
“Has StarClan sent you any omens about who should lead ShadowClan?” he asked, trying to keep his voice mild. Inside, something stirred, a feeling of hunger, the certainty that everything he wanted was drawing closer.
Runningnose shook his head. “Nothing,” he mewed. “But perhaps I’ve been too busy, or too tired, to see the signs. My Clan is on the brink of destruction, and it could be my fault!”
Tigerclaw rested his tail on the old cat’s shoulder. “Look around you,” he urged. “ShadowClan is not on the brink of destruction! Your Clan is full of strong, able warriors. You know in your heart which one will make the best leader.” He stepped away from Runningnose, studied him carefully. “You alone know the signs that StarClan might send. Your ancestors trust you enough to be their voice in ShadowClan. You can help them choose the next leader.”
Runningnose’s head jerked up. “Are you saying that I should fake a sign? I couldn’t do that!”
“Of course not,” Tigerclaw soothed. “But surely any choice that the medicine cat makes is guided by StarClan, whether he knows it or not?”
Runningnose looked troubled. “You mean, StarClan would ensure that I made the same decision as it would?”
Tigerclaw nodded. “Think about it, Runningnose. There are still several days before the Gathering. Keep watch for signs from your ancestors—but also listen to the voice inside your own mind.”
Ha! purred Mapleshade.
Runningnose pushed his way out of the hawthorns, his eyes still troubled. Almost at once the branches on the other side of the little clearing rustled and Jaggedtooth emerged.
“He should choose you, if he has any sense,” the ginger tom meowed. “Why didn’t you tell him that, and help him make the decision?”
Tigerclaw blinked. “I cannot determine the will of StarClan.”
Jaggedtooth’s eyes glittered. “I don’t share your faith in dead cats,” he mewed. “Perhaps that makes things easier?”
Tigerclaw held his gaze and gave him a tiny nod. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Jaggedtooth. I won’t ever forget that.”
Jaggedtooth nodded back. “I know,” he mewed.
The sky above the pines was as dark as the water in the marshes, but the trees glowed silver in the light of a swollen moon.
“Tomorrow is the night of the Gathering,” Tigerclaw heard Fernshade whisper to Rowanberry. “Has Runningnose told you what he’s going to tell the other Clans?”
“I don’t think he’ll need to tell them anything,” Russetfur put in. “It’s going to be pretty obvious that Nightstar has died and we don’t have a leader.”
“Or a deputy,” added Applefur. “The other Clans will laugh us out of Fourtrees.”
“Be patient,” urged a quiet voice. Tangleburr had joined them. “There is still time for StarClan to answer our prayers.”
There was a stir of movement outside the medicine den, and Runningnose appeared, his gray-and-white pelt lit up by the moonlight. He crossed to the rock and hauled himself onto it. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a meeting!” he called, his thin voice echoing through the trees.
Tigerclaw unfolded himself from the shadows and joined the others as they sat at the foot of the rock. Runningnose looked no bigger or stronger than a kit, and Tigerclaw marveled at the way his Clanmates gazed at him with such respect, such trust that he would restore their Clan to how it should be.
“Clanmates, I know you are troubled about the Gathering,” Runningnose began. “I share your fears, but be strong! Have faith in our warrior ancestors to send us a new leader soon!”
There was a murmur from the watching cats, and Deerfoot stood up. “Soon isn’t now!” he hissed. “The Gathering is tomorrow! Does StarClan want us to look weak and leaderless in front of the other Clans?”