Tigerclaw’s Fury

“Never!” roared Tigerclaw. He woke with a start, breathless and writhing on his back. His belly burned like fire and his claws were unsheathed, clogged with dirt. He crawled out from beneath the wooden den into a cool, pale dawn. How many days had he lain here? One? Two? More? His vision blurred for a moment, and he shook his head to clear it. His mouth was as dry and sore as if he had swallowed feathers, so he limped over to a puddle that lay in a muddy rut close to the fence. The water was black and brackish, but he forced himself to lap until his throat had stopped hurting.

A blackbird pecked at the ground farther along the fence. Tigerclaw gathered his haunches beneath him and crept toward the bird, testing each of his legs. He felt weak, but a careful check of his belly showed that the wound had stopped bleeding and the edges were starting to crust over with dark red scabs. As long as he didn’t stretch too much, he should be able to hunt. Better to die from hunting than from letting myself starve.

As he drew closer to the bird, he stepped onto a heap of pine needles that crackled. The blackbird let out a squawk and flapped noisily into the air. Tigerclaw cursed under his breath and sat down. He licked the ruffled, dusty fur on his chest. It tasted of blood and soil. He spat, then turned and stared into the shadows beneath the wooden den. He’d been aware of rustlings during his restless sleep, the muffled squeaks of mice and a mouthwatering scent in the musty air. It would be a cramped and difficult place to hunt, but no worse than some of the bramble thickets he’d scoured before.

Crouching low, feeling the wound in his belly strain, Tigerclaw slipped under the den. The soil rose up on the far side, blocking out the light. Tigerclaw headed for the thickest shadows, feeling his whiskers quiver as he picked up the scents of tiny furred creatures. He paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the half-light, then lunged toward the tiny twin glints that gave away a mouse staring back at him, terrified. There was a satisfying fat crunch under his paws, a high-pitched squeak cut short, and Tigerclaw buried his muzzle in the warm blood and fur of his fresh-kill. He saw no need to thank StarClan for his prey; it was his catch, his alone.

The mouse sent strength surging through his legs, and Tigerclaw emerged, blinking, into the light, shaking loose soil from his pelt. He squeezed between the wooden posts and set off through the pine trees at an uneven trot, gritting his teeth against the pain in his belly. He was outside ThunderClan scent marks here, but there was precious little undergrowth, so a passing patrol would spot him from a long way off. The tall wooden fences and red stone walls that marked the edge of Twolegplace loomed through the trees. The trunks thinned out and brambles and dense clumps of ferns began tangling around Tigerclaw’s paws. He lowered his head and began sniffing where fronds had been bent back by a passing creature. There! Barely a fox-length from the ThunderClan border, he picked up the acrid, fear-stained scent of the cats who had fought alongside him in the attack.

Fought? More like turned tail like frightened kits! came the voice in Tigerclaw’s head. You were a fool to trust them! Tigerclaw flattened his ears. I had no choice! But now that I am free from my bonds to ThunderClan, things will be different.

Stepping carefully through the thick grass, Tigerclaw followed the scents along the very edge of Twolegplace. Splashes of blood left a visible trail, and he hoped the cats were not too badly wounded. He didn’t have time to nurse anyone. These pitiful creatures were weak enough already. He kept one ear pricked toward ThunderClan territory, listening for a patrol. The sun was high overhead, the shadows at the foot of the Twoleg boundary barely wide enough to conceal him. Tigerclaw guessed that his former Clanmates would be resting after morning patrols, sharing fresh-kill before setting out again. His belly growled at the thought of food, but he forced himself to keep going. He wouldn’t be caught taking prey that belonged to ThunderClan!

The rumble of the Thunderpath drifted through the trees, and the scent of scared cats was muffled by the stench of monsters and their foul black breath. Tigerclaw forced his way into a solid clump of brambles, guessing that if he were frightened and wounded, he’d seek the thickest cover. He stiffened as he heard tiny whispers ahead of him.

“Keep still! Someone’s coming!”

“Has a ThunderClan patrol found us? We can’t stay here and be trapped like rabbits!”

“Hush! They’ll hear us!”