Tigerheart’s Shadow

The ginger tabby seemed unconcerned by the clumsiness of his attacks. Paws fluttered around his ears like butterflies as Tigerheart ducked another flurry. Then the kittypet bounced around him, ears twitching, fur bushed. “Come on!” he mewed eagerly. “Fight back!”

Tigerheart swallowed a purr. Did the kittypet seriously think this was a real fight? Tigerheart kept his claws sheathed as the tabby flung itself at him once more. He ducked the flailing paws and jabbed his nose beneath the kittypet’s belly. Flicking his head up, he flipped the tom onto its back.

“Wow! Nice!” The kittypet scrambled to its paws and turned on Tigerheart. It ducked beneath Tigerheart’s belly as though trying to copy his move, but when it tried to push up, Tigerheart hopped neatly out of the way. The kittypet spun. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m over here.” Tigerheart sat down and watched the befuddled tabby drop into an ungainly attack crouch. He lifted a paw as the tabby began to wiggle its hindquarters. “Stop.”

The tabby blinked at him. “Why? Am I winning?”

Tigerheart eyed him. “I’m not looking for a fight,” he meowed.

The tabby paused. “But I was winning, right?”

Something seemed to catch the tabby’s eye, because his gaze flashed to the Twoleg den behind Tigerheart. His pelt fluffed excitedly. “Got to go!” he mewed. “Let’s fight again soon.”

Before Tigerheart could speak, the kittypet hared past him, leaped a stretch of small shrubs, and disappeared into the shadows between two nests.

Tigerheart stared after him. What was that all about? If the kittypet was defending its border, then it wasn’t very good at it. Perhaps it was just hoping to scare him off. Did the tabby think that a few soft jabs were enough to scare a warrior away? Kittypets must have bees in their brain. He shook out his pelt and crossed the grass. Following the Thunderpath, he skirted the row of Twoleg nests. The sun was slipping toward the hillside.

“Hi.” A gentle mew made him stop. He looked toward the Twoleg nest where the voice had sounded. A pale cream she-cat was crouched on a wide wooden ledge jutting from the front. She glanced down at him, her fluffy tail twitching at the tip. “You’re not from around here. Are you lost?”

Tigerheart eyed the kittypet and saw softness in her gaze. “I’m looking for someone.” He padded toward the ledge and blinked at her hopefully. “A gray cat called Dovewing. Have you seen her? She might have passed this way a few days ago. She was looking for a den with spikes on the roof like gorse spines.”

The kittypet looked puzzled. “Spikes?”

“It’s in a Twolegplace where the nests reach into the sky,” Tigerheart explained.

The kittypet glanced at the low Twoleg nests surrounding hers. “It won’t be here, then,” she mewed apologetically.

“Perhaps you saw Dovewing?” Tigerheart’s belly ached with hope as he searched the kittypet’s face for recognition.

“Fight!” An excited yowl sounded behind him, and he turned to see the ginger tabby rushing toward him once more.

Frustration spiked Tigerheart’s pelt. Not you again! He reared to meet the tom’s attack, flipped the kittypet’s hind paws from beneath him with a swipe of one paw, and knocked him to the ground with another. He pinned him there, his claws sheathed, his paws buried deep in the tabby’s fluffy pelt. The kittypet was so soft it was like pressing into moss.

“Hey!” the kittypet wailed indignantly, trying to wriggle free of Tigerheart’s grip.

“I don’t have time to fight,” Tigerheart meowed firmly. “I’m looking for someone. If I let you up, will you back off?”

The kittypet squirmed. “But why? I’m having fun!”

“Just back off,” Tigerheart growled.

The kittypet stopped squirming. “Okay.”

Tigerheart let him go.

The kittypet leaped to his paws and backed away, his eyes bright. “That was an awesome move,” he mewed. “Can you show me how you did it?”

“I said I don’t have time.” Tigerheart’s pelt prickled with irritation. Every moment that passed, Dovewing was getting further away.

“Do you need to get back to your Twolegs?” the kittypet tom asked.

“I don’t have Twolegs,” Tigerheart told him. “I’m a warrior.”

“A warrior!” The kittypet’s eyes widened in wonder. “That’s why you fight so good. I’ve heard about warriors. Have you been one for long?”

“Since I was born.” Tigerheart supposed that was a bit inaccurate—he’d been a kit and an apprentice first—but that didn’t seem worth explaining to this kittypet, whose eyes widened with interest.

“Do you live in the wild?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Tigerheart paused. What a mouse-brained question. “Why do you live with Twolegs?”

But the kittypet seemed more interested in Tigerheart’s life than his own. “Don’t you get cold and hungry?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you really fight foxes and badgers?”

“When we have to.” Tigerheart’s pelt rippled along his spine. This was taking too long.

“Fuzzball,” the she-cat cut in gently, clearly sensing Tigerheart’s impatience. “Give him a break.”

“Fuzzball?” Tigerheart’s whiskers twitched in surprise. “Is that your name?”

Fuzzball blinked at him. “Of course.”