“No!” Bluestar interrupted them. “No more fighting. Tigerclaw, leave my sight.”
Tigerclaw made himself stand up, in spite of the trembling that shook his paws. A fresh wave of blood oozed from his belly as the edges of the wound shifted. He heard gasps from the cats around him but ignored them. Pain is nothing! Defeat is nothing!
“Don’t think I’m finished,” he warned, staring at the battle-stunned faces around him. “I’ll be a leader yet. And any cat who comes with me will be well looked after.” He looked for his closest ally in ThunderClan, the cat who’d always told him that he should have been leader by now. “Darkstripe?”
The black-striped tabby stayed where he was, sitting among the warriors. “I trusted you, Tigerclaw,” he whimpered. “I thought you were the finest warrior in the forest. But you plotted with that… that tyrant.” Tigerclaw guessed he was speaking of Brokentail, the exiled ShadowClan leader who now lived in ThunderClan’s camp. “And you said nothing. And now you expect me to come with you?” He dropped his head, unable to meet Tigerclaw’s gaze.
Traitor! You dare to deny me in front of all these cats? You’ll pay for this with every hair on your pelt!
Tigerclaw forced his fur to stay flat. “I needed Brokentail’s help to make contact with the rogue cats. If you choose to take this personally, that’s your problem,” he sniffed. He looked at another cat who’d listened to his plans, promised to stand by him when he brought clear, strong leadership to their Clan. “Longtail?”
The pale tabby almost leaped out of his skin. “Come with you, Tigerclaw? Into exile?” He sounded horrified. “I—no, I can’t. I’m loyal to ThunderClan!”
You’re a pathetic coward, more like! Tigerclaw screeched silently. He scanned the ranks of cats, looking for a hint of understanding, a recognition that this weak and kittypet-favoring Clan was no place for a true warrior. “What about you, Dustpelt?” he growled. “You’ll have richer pickings with me than you ever will in ThunderClan.”
The young brown tabby got deliberately to his paws and picked his way through the surrounding cats until he stood in front of Tigerclaw. “I looked up to you,” he admitted. “I wanted to be like you. But Redtail was my mentor. I owe him more than any cat. And you killed him.” His eyes grew huge and he started to shake. “You killed him and betrayed the Clan. I’d rather die than follow you.”
Redtail deserved to die! He was too much like Bluestar, always looking for peace and reconciliation. It was only luck that Oakheart hadn’t killed him before being caught by that rockfall. Redtail would have never survived that battle.
“Tigerclaw!” Bluestar broke into his memories of dust and falling stones and the bright red slash opening up in Redtail’s throat. “No more of this. Go now.”
Tigerclaw lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’m going. But I’ll be back; you can be sure of that. I’ll be revenged on you all!” He turned and walked away, gritting his teeth against the pain in his belly. I will not show them how badly I have been wounded! He paused as he drew level with Fireheart. “And as for you…” he growled. “Keep your eyes open, Fireheart. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking behind you. Because one day I’ll find you, and then you’ll be crow-food.”
“You’re crow-food now,” Fireheart snapped, but the stench of fear rose from him.
Tigerclaw stared into the warrior’s wide green eyes. You know already that I will kill you one day. Your last breath will be gasped beneath my paws. Your last drop of blood will be spilled on my fur. Stones will break and the sky will fall when we meet in our final battle.
With a flick of his tail that felt as if it was ripping his belly apart, he walked across the clearing without looking back. From inside the nursery he heard the tiny mewls of his son and daughter, Bramblekit and Tawnykit, quickly hushed by their mother, Goldenflower. I will come back for you, Tigerclaw vowed. He would not leave his kits to be raised in this Clan of weaklings. They deserved to learn from his example, to model themselves on his courage and skill in battle. Some skill you showed today! came the voice in his head again. Thistleclaw would have clouted you over the ears for letting yourself get beaten by a kittypet and a star-crazed old she-cat.
Thistleclaw wouldn’t have dared to take on the leader of his Clan! Tigerclaw lashed back. If he hadn’t let Bluestar become deputy in the first place, everything would be different. He would have chosen me to succeed him, and ThunderClan would be as strong as we deserve!
He pushed his way through the gorse tunnel, hardly noticing the thorns that clutched at his blood-matted fur. The barricade had been ripped and scattered by fleeing cats, cats who had sworn to fight alongside Tigerclaw until he had killed Bluestar, on the promise that he would make them his foremost warriors in the new ThunderClan. Tigerclaw spat onto the dusty earth. He should have known better than to rely on those half-trained rogues. Only a forestborn cat had the true instincts of a warrior. The ShadowClan outlaws had disappointed him, too, made soft by moons of surviving alone, too easily cowed by cats fighting to defend their home. Tigerclaw needed more time with them, to remind them of the training they had received under Brokenstar. The former ShadowClan leader may have been criticized for asking too much of his warriors, but he had made his Clan the most feared and powerful in the forest. Who could judge him for that?
And Tigerclaw might still have won if RiverClan hadn’t turned up at the tipping point of the battle, Mistyfoot and Leopardfur bounding in to rescue the Clan cats who had been their sworn enemies just a few moons earlier. Why did the Clans show so much mercy to one another? What did it matter to RiverClan if ThunderClan lost its leader? Tigerclaw felt his hackles rise. Of course, it was in RiverClan’s interests to keep Bluestar in command, weak and addled and unable to maintain her grip on Sunningrocks. It was probably Crookedstar’s greatest fear to have Tigerclaw in charge of his closest neighbors.
The dappled shadows cast by breeze-stirred oak and beech leaves gave way to cool damp gloom beneath the pine trees that bordered Twolegplace. Tigerclaw paused for a moment to check that no cat was following him, but the woods were silent apart from the call of a blackbird and a tree branch resting against another with a soft creak. He let himself sink down on a patch of moss, letting out a grunt of pain. He craned his neck to study the wound on his belly. Fireheart had been lucky to get so close to him. But if he’d really wanted to hurt Tigerclaw, he should have gone for his neck.
Tigerclaw dragged some loose moss against the wound, hissing as he pressed it hard to stem the bleeding. His head swam with pain, and he fought off a wave of blackness that rose behind his eyes. He pictured the Clan he had left behind, battle-bruised and cowering in the dust. Did he really want to command warriors that were so nearly beaten by a half-trained patrol of rogues? Fireheart had taken all the credit for winning, as always, and every cat had been hanging on his words, gazing in doe-eyed admiration. If they were so willing to listen to a kittypet, they didn’t deserve a leader such as Tigerclaw. How dare Bluestar cast him out? Had she forgotten how many times he had won battles for ThunderClan, found food for his Clanmates, defended the borders against their enemies? They owed him everything! But in the end they had treated him worse than a lice-riddled fox. He could have been the best leader ThunderClan had ever known!
Better than your father, Pinestar, purred the voice in his ear. He betrayed his Clan—betrayed you—when he left to become a kittypet. You would never walk away from your Clanmates if you were their leader.