“Tigerclaw!” meowed a scrawny brown tom. “You survived!”
“No thanks to you, Clawface,” Tigerclaw snarled.
“We were going to come back for you once our wounds had healed,” protested a broad-shouldered white tom with one black forepaw. His name was Blackfoot, and like Clawface, he had been a ShadowClan warrior loyal to their leader, Brokenstar, before he had been taken prisoner and his followers driven out of the Clan.
Two other former ShadowClan warriors, a brown tabby named Stumpytail and a gray-and-brown she-cat called Tangleburr, stood up and stepped alongside Tigerclaw to brush their tails against him.
“I’m so pleased to see you,” purred Tangleburr, but the row of fur pricking along her spine told Tigerclaw that she was lying. All of these cats, including the former stray Snag, a huge ginger tom who lingered at the back of the makeshift den, watching with wary amber eyes, were terrified to see Tigerclaw risen from the dead. They knew they had failed him, had let themselves get beaten by a bunch of queens and elders in an unguarded camp. Tigerclaw breathed in their fear-scent and felt a thrill of satisfaction. These cats would do anything he wanted. He forced his long claws to stay sheathed, pushed down the urge to rip their ears for leaving him to face his former Clanmates alone. These were the only allies he had for now, and while they were scared of him, and in his debt, he could shape them exactly as he wanted.
He looked around. “Where’s Mowgli?” He had found the green-eyed, brown tom among the loners in Twolegplace, spotting at once the potential in his sleek muscles and hard, unflinching gaze. Tigerclaw had vowed to make Mowgli a senior warrior if he fought alongside him, and the brown tom had lapped up his promises as hungrily as any forestborn cat.
Stumpytail shrugged. “I don’t know. He got his ears clawed pretty harshly by that brown ThunderClan apprentice—Brackenpaw, I think he’s called. We haven’t seen him since.”
Tigerclaw curled his lip. Beaten by an apprentice? He hoped he hadn’t been wrong about Mowgli. Clearly he needed more training, more encouragement to fight to the limits of his strength, even if his opponent still had kitten fluff around his ears.
Clawface limped forward with a scrap of fur and meat in his jaws. He dropped it at Tigerclaw’s feet. “I caught this mouse earlier,” he mewed. “You can have the rest if you want.”
Tigerclaw eyed the pathetic piece of fresh-kill. Would he be showing weakness if he admitted to his hunger and ate it? Or should he take advantage of these cats offering to feed and shelter him? What would a Clan leader do?
Bluestar would look for the weakest elder and give them the fresh-kill, purred the voice. But is that the kind of leader you want to be?
Tigerclaw bent his head and devoured the mouse loin in a single bite. He looked up, swiping his tongue around his lips. “We’ll need more than that to survive. Who is the least wounded among you?”
Tangleburr raised her tail. “I have a bite on my flank, but it’s healing fast.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And Snag’s fur was thick enough to save him from any deep scratches.”
The loner padded out of the shadows. “I’ll hunt if you want,” he rumbled.
Tigerclaw nodded. “Good. You two, bring back at least two pieces each of fresh-kill.”
Tangleburr’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Well done, you’re learning, thought Tigerclaw. The two cats threaded their way out of the brambles.
“Tigerclaw, your belly seems to be bleeding,” mewed Blackfoot hesitantly. He stretched out his neck and sniffed at the sticky scarlet fur on Tigerclaw’s side.
“It’s nothing,” snapped Tigerclaw. “It’ll heal in a couple of days.”
Blackfoot stepped back. “Those ThunderClan cats fought more fiercely than I expected,” he admitted. Beside him, Clawface nodded. “Especially that so-called kittypet, Fireheart,” Blackfoot went on. “He may have been born in Twolegplace, but he’s sure learned how to fight like a warrior.”
“He is a kittypet!” Tigerclaw spat. “Don’t ever speak of him as a warrior. He has no right to be in the forest, no right to speak to Bluestar as if the blood of the Clans runs in his veins.” He turned away and paced in a tight circle, flicking his tail. “I will find more cats, and teach you how to fight properly, and then we will take on ThunderClan again and Fireheart will die!”
Chapter 3
Tigerclaw opened his eyes to thin gray light filtering between the brambles. It was not quite dawn, but the air was warm and stuffy from the sleeping cats around him. Moving carefully in order not to disturb Clawface, who was pressed against his spine, Tigerclaw eased himself up and stepped out of the thicket. The Thunderpath was silent and the forest smelled clear and green. He peered through the trees, recognizing even in the half-light which trunks held the border marks for ThunderClan’s territory. He felt his fur start to rise as he pictured Fireheart curled in the warriors’ den, dreaming of victory. Sleep peacefully while you can, kittypet.
There was a crackle of leaves behind him and Snag appeared, shaking dust from his thick pelt. “Have you spotted a patrol?” he asked.
“No, it’s too early.” Tigerclaw turned and looked toward the Thunderpath, just visible between the tree trunks. “We can’t stay here. We don’t want to attract attention from ThunderClan, and we need more space for hunting. Wake the others. We’ll leave now, before the dawn patrols begin.”
Snag vanished back into the brambles, leaving Tigerclaw alone in the woods where he had been born. I will come back, he vowed. But only when I am strong enough to crush Fireheart and ThunderClan along with him.
Tangleburr was yawning as she pushed her way out of the brambles, but as soon as she saw Tigerclaw her mouth snapped shut and she lifted her head. “Where are we going?”
Tigerclaw flicked his tail toward the Thunderpath. “We’ll cross over and skirt the edge of ShadowClan until we reach the wild part of the forest.”
Stumpytail looked alarmed. “What if a patrol catches us? We won’t be welcome inside ShadowClan’s borders!”
“The sun hasn’t risen yet. There won’t be any patrols around,” meowed Blackfoot.
Tigerclaw led the cats through the long grass between the edge of the trees and the smooth black Thunderpath. The river of stone was silent, still reeking of monsters but damp with dew, making it quite cool and pleasant to walk on. The cats trotted across and plunged into the grass on the far side. None of them said a word as they entered the close-growing pine trees. Tigerclaw saw Blackfoot’s fur stand on end, and Clawface’s eyes stretch wide as he scanned for hostile former Clanmates. But the woods were as silent here as they had been on the other side of the Thunderpath. The cats crept undisturbed along the fences and walls of Twolegplace until they reached a tangled clump of ancient trees with thick glossy leaves and drooping purple-and-scarlet blooms.
“This is the farthest corner of the territory,” Clawface whispered. “These bushes came from Twolegplace, and they’re so difficult to get through that ShadowClan uses them as a defense against the wild part of the woods.”
“They’ll protect us just as well,” mewed Tigerclaw. “There must be some way through.”
Blackfoot walked along the foot of the branches, which dipped close to the ground. “There is a way,” he muttered. “I got through once when I was an apprentice.”
Tangleburr twitched her ears. “You were lucky you made it back! Who knows what could have happened to you on the other side.”