Tigerclaw’s Fury

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.”

Snag blinked. “It’s just more trees,” he meowed. “What were you imagining? A Clan of foxes and badgers, waiting to rip your fur off?”

Tangleburr flicked her tail. “I was a loyal ShadowClan warrior,” she huffed. “It wasn’t my business to know what went on beyond the Clan boundaries.”

“Well, that’s changed, hasn’t it?” growled Tigerclaw. “Come on.” Brushing past Blackfoot, he climbed over a gnarled silver branch and wriggled into the center of the tree. He couldn’t see through the dense leaves to the other side, but there was a surprising amount of room among the twisted trunks. He heard the others follow him, and continued to scramble forward, ignoring the tearing pains in his belly. Soon he was surrounded by shiny leaves again, but he forced a way through and plunged into clear space on the other side. The wild part of the woods stretched out in front of him, looking more like ThunderClan than ShadowClan territory, with ancient moss-clad oaks and dappled ash trees rather than straight rows of pine.

The other cats lined up beside him, panting. “So, this is our territory now,” murmured Clawface.

Blackfoot pricked his ears. “That fallen tree over there looks as if it could be a den,” he meowed. He bounded over the mulch-covered ground, leaping twigs and clumps of fungus growing in the damp soil. He vanished behind the fallen oak for a moment, then reappeared on top of the trunk. “It’s perfect!” he yowled. “Come and see!”