“Has StarClan given up on us?” wailed Rowanpaw. He was hushed by Stumpytail, who clouted him gently with one paw.
“Of course they haven’t given up on us,” Runningnose mewed, but his words were drowned by his Clanmates’ increasingly noisy protests.
“We’ll be pounced on like rats as soon as the Clans hear about Nightstar’s death!” yowled Ratscar.
“How can we survive without a leader?” snarled Tallpoppy. “No other Clan has ever turned up at a Gathering without one!”
Runningnose hung his head and said nothing. Tigerclaw could smell the misery coming from him. Don’t give up now, he urged. There is still something you can do.
Suddenly the medicine cat tensed. His ears pricked, and his gaze fixed on something at the foot of the rock. There was a tiny, pale glint among the grass, dappled in the moonlight. Runningnose jumped down and put his muzzle close to it. Then his head shot up in astonishment.
“It’s a claw!” he gasped. “Here, at the bottom of the rock. Has any cat lost a claw today?”
Warriors and apprentices shook their heads, and puzzled murmurs spread through the Clan.
Runningnose was studying the claw again. He reached out carefully and touched it with his paw, shifting it so that the other cats could see it. “Look,” he whispered. “The moon has cast shadows on it. Not shadows, stripes.” He looked up and stared at Tigerclaw. “Stripes like a tiger’s pelt.”
“It’s a sign!” gasped Dawncloud. “It must be!”
“StarClan has chosen our new leader!” called Blackfoot.
“Tigerclaw!” breathed Runningnose, and as one the cats of ShadowClan turned to gaze at Tigerclaw. “StarClan has spoken,” the medicine cat mewed. “And we must listen.”
Tigerclaw felt the breath catch in his chest. After all this time, the ancestors had chosen him! He had served them for so long, tried to challenge the weak leadership in ThunderClan, been driven out and forced to prove his loyalty to a new Clan. And now at last StarClan was rewarding him with a leadership of his own. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Tigerclaw closed his eyes and sensed the ranks of shadowed cats swell around him. Like a dark wave they surged through the forest, carrying him along on legs that seemed weightless. He felt a yowl of joy rise inside him as he raced into battle with his Clanmates. “Follow my lead!” he called, and countless warriors fell in behind him, matching their stride to his. Ahead, their enemy quivered with fear…
“Tigerclaw?” Blackfoot mewed quietly. “Runningnose wants to speak with you.”
Tigerclaw blinked open his eyes. The medicine cat was standing in front of him, close enough for Tigerclaw to smell his rancid breath.
Runningnose bowed low. “Will you do us the honor of leading us, Tigerclaw? StarClan has spoken, and it has chosen you.”
We did it! screeched Mapleshade inside his head. Didn’t I promise you this would happen?
“And we choose you, too!” yowled Boulder over the heads of his Clanmates. “You have led us out of the darkness after Nightstar’s death, and shown us how to be strong again!”
Tigerclaw dipped his head. “I am stunned by the decision of our ancestors,” he meowed. “I came late to ShadowClan, though I hope no cat would question my loyalty to each one of you. I never looked for this. If you’re sure, and if StarClan has spoken, then I can only say yes.”
“Hail the new ShadowClan leader!” called Runningnose, and the night air was split with screeches of joy and relief.
There was a faint rustle in the brambles behind Tigerclaw. He turned and saw a pair of amber eyes gleaming. Jaggedtooth limped forward, bleeding from one toe where the claw had been ripped out. Tigerclaw glanced down at the injury. “You took a big risk that it would work,” he murmured.
Jaggedtooth lashed his tail. “It paid off,” he growled. “You can thank me later.”
Tigerclaw turned and padded to the center of the clearing. The other cats fell silent as he sprang onto the rock. Tigerclaw settled his paws on the cold, smooth stone and looked down at his Clanmates: Nightwhisper and Jaggedtooth, former strays who would be loyal to him until their last breath; Runningnose and Littlecloud, his medicine cats, watching for signs that StarClan sent to their leader; strong warriors, healthy queens, and apprentices desperate to learn how to fight as bravely as he did. He caught Blackfoot’s eye; he would make him deputy before the moon rose above the treetops. Not Jaggedtooth, who needed to understand that Tigerclaw owed him nothing.
Tigerclaw braced his shoulders. He should prepare for the Gathering, when Bluestar would be forced to face him as her equal, at the head of a Clan that could match hers any day.
But that was tomorrow. For now, Tigerclaw was content to listen to his Clanmates calling his new name.
Tigerstar! Tigerstar!