Berryheart hovered nearby, her kits clustering around her. “I can try to find some poppy seeds,” she meowed hopefully. “They’ll be hard to find in leafbare, but they’d help his pain.”
“No,” Dovewing meowed sharply. “Poppy seeds would make him sleep. He mustn’t sleep.”
As she spoke, Blaze bounded toward her, a mouse dangling from his jaws. He dropped it in front of her. “For Tigerheart,” he meowed. “To give him strength.” He headed back into the long grass.
Dovewing settled beside Tigerheart and began carefully to strip flesh from the mouse’s carcass.
Tigerheart smelled the warm scent of fresh-kill. “Share it with the kits,” he murmured. “They like mouse.”
Dovewing was chewing a lump of meat. She took it from between her teeth with her paw and pressed it to Tigerheart’s mouth as though he were a kit. “Eat it,” she ordered.
He took the morsel and let it sit on his tongue. He closed his eyes as he struggled to swallow. Pain seared his flanks at the effort. He turned his face away as Dovewing tried to give him more. “Give it to the kits.”
Exhausted, he closed his eyes.
“Don’t sleep!” Dovewing pulled his muzzle toward her. She searched his gaze desperately, as though reaching for something she could not see. “Remember before the cats of the Dark Forest came, when we used to meet on the ShadowClan border?”
He struggled to recall the memory as she went on.
“You were so cocky and sure of yourself.” She purred.
“You were such a goody-four-paws,” he teased, his words hardly more than a breath.
“And the time in the Dark Forest when…”
Her mew faded as he drifted into dream. Darkness swirled around him. Stars sparkled, and he opened his eyes and saw sunlit meadows, lush with the richness of greenleaf. His paws pressed into soft grass. Pain faded, distant now, as though pushed beyond the bright green horizon.
A tom padded over the rolling slope, his orange pelt like flame against the grass.
Tigerheart recognized him at once. His heart leaped. “Rowanstar!” His father looked so sleek and strong. He was once more the noble warrior Tigerheart remembered from his kithood. He hurried to meet him. “Is ShadowClan safe?”
Rowanstar stopped and met his gaze, his green eyes flashing. “I’m Rowanclaw now.”
Tigerheart frowned, confused. “Why?” How could a Clan leader lose his name?
“I forgive you for leaving.” Rowanclaw’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on Tigerheart.
Shame flashed hot beneath Tigerheart’s pelt. I left my Clan. He’d forgotten. The pain of the fall had blotted out memory. “I had to,” he blurted. “I was blocking the sun. I needed to give you space to make the shadows strong again.”
“There’s no need to explain.” Rowanclaw’s gaze was gentle now. No recrimination flickered there. “Now that I’m with StarClan, I understand. I see it all, and everything makes sense.”
Tigerheart’s thoughts jumbled. “You’re… dead?” He felt sunshine on his pelt. A warm breeze tugged at his fur. “Is this StarClan?” Grief swamped Tigerheart, but he wasn’t sure whether it was pain at the loss of his father or at being here, separated from Dovewing and his kits. “Am I dead too?”
The ground shifted beneath him. Like night rushing in, darkness swallowed the green fields, and Tigerheart found himself engulfed by water. It pulled him down into depths that pressed against his pelt and filled his ears and nose. He twisted, trying to haul himself to the surface. Orange fur moved beside him. Rowanstar?
No. The face that floated before him in the cloudy water belonged to Flametail. His brother’s eyes were wild with panic. Bubbles drifted from his mouth and nose as he thrashed in desperation, falling ever deeper into the murky gloom.
Tigerheart’s lungs burned. As panic lit every hair on fire, he opened his eyes. He was beside the pond once more. Darkness was creeping across the grass, swallowing the meadows around him. Gulping for air, he tried to draw in a shuddering breath. Pain clamped his chest. “I can’t breathe,” he gasped.
Dovewing crouched beside him, fear sharpening her green gaze. Ant and Cinnamon stared in horror. Cloverfoot, Rippletail, and Sparrowtail watched with dark, round eyes while Berryheart tried to shield her kits.
“ShadowClan.” Tigerheart felt darkness pressing at the edges of his thoughts. Rowanstar was dead. So much was left undone. “ShadowClan must survive.” He stared desperately at Rippletail. “You have to save it.”
Dovewing trembled, pressing her flank against his. “Don’t die,” she whimpered. “Please don’t die.”
Shadowkit buried his nose in Tigerheart’s fur. Pouncekit and Lightkit clung to his neck.
“Take the kits to ThunderClan.” Tigerheart breathed the words and could not draw in air for more. I always loved you. Peace flooded him. Pain melted. Dovewing. He regretted nothing except that he would never see his kits grow into warriors. I’ll watch them from StarClan. Like a warrior releasing prey, he let go his grip and allowed darkness to swallow him.
Chapter 35
Tigerheart shifted on his side. He felt the familiar crunch of pine needles beneath his flank. The scent of sap filled his nose, and he was suddenly aware that he felt no pain. Relief flooded him. He opened his eyes. Pines stretched around him. Fresh brambles sprawled around their trunks. Ferns, green and bright, sprouted where the sun reached through the dark branches. I’m home.
And yet the forest was warm. The biting chill of leaf-bare had lifted. Prey-scent hung in the warm air. Confused, Tigerheart clambered to his paws. He’d closed his eyes in cold and pain.
His heart lurched as he understood. This is StarClan. He was dead. Before had been a dream, but this was real. He spun, scanning the trees. Dovewing! Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit! Grief hollowed his heart. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d promised to take them home.
He ran, skimming the forest floor, racing for sunlight filtering in at the edge of the forest. He reached it, blinking against the brightness as he broke from the trees. In meadows stretching ahead, he saw cats moving over the grass. Panic spiraled in his thoughts. Take me back!
He forced his breathing to slow. Drawing in deep breaths, he stopped himself trembling. This was the will of StarClan. He must accept it. He remembered the agony of his final moments. Did he really want to go back to that?
“Tigerheart?” A surprised mew sounded behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw, with a rush of delight, Spiresight padding from the ferns. “You made it to StarClan!” He hurried to greet the black tom, touching his nose to his cheek. “The warrior ceremony worked.”
“Yes.” Spiresight stopped in front of him. “Thank you.”
“Where are the others?” Tigerheart peered past the healer, scanning the forest behind him for more Clanmates. Euphoria suddenly welled in his chest. Why had he been so scared? He would be among old friends here. Dovewing would join him one day, and there would be no pain to endure, no cold to shiver through, no hunger, no responsibility. Here there was no need for leaders or warriors or medicine cats. There would be peace. “Where’s Rowanstar—I mean Rowanclaw—and Flametail? They’re here, right?”
Spiresight’s gaze was troubled. “You mustn’t meet them.”
Tigerheart blinked at him. “Why?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“But I died.”
“Look.” Spiresight brushed his paw through the pine needles coating the forest floor. As they stirred, Tigerheart saw an image shimmering below him.