Tigerheart’s Shadow

“Clan?” Dash looked confused. “We don’t have Clans in the city. They’re just strays.”

Strays. Hopefully they wouldn’t know any warrior moves. Tigerheart jerked his nose toward the entrance to Dash’s den. “Can you show me where they are?”

“They’ll be around the rot piles.” Dash padded past him and slipped out into the cavern.

Tigerheart followed, relieved to have a guide this time. He trailed Dash as the station cat skirted a long wall, then turned to climb a tunnel that sloped upward. Twolegs streamed past them, unheeding, as the tunnel divided and then turned sharply. Tigerheart was met by fresher scents, and his fur prickled with excitement, even though they were slightly tainted by monster stench. Dovewing might be out there—she might be nearby. And if he could deal with these rot pile cats, Dash would take him to look for her.

He quickened his pace as Dash turned in to a narrower tunnel where there were no Twolegs.

Dash hurried along it. A wall blocked the end, but Dash nodded toward a piece of mesh, like the one lying outside his den. “The way out is through this vent.” The mesh hung loosely over a small opening; Dash nosed it open easily and slid through. Tigerheart followed the station cat into a small dark tunnel. A cold breeze funneled over him as he glimpsed light at the end. It wasn’t the harsh yellow of the station, but cool, bright daylight.

Relief swamped Tigerheart, and the panic that had been sparking at the edges of his thoughts since he found himself in the belly of the Thundersnake began to ease. He breathed deeply as he squeezed past another vent into the open air.

Once outside, Tigerheart immediately smelled crow-food. The sour stink bathed his muzzle. Dash was gazing toward a stretch of ground where four huge red shapes—like square monsters—stood, overflowing with stinking Twoleg waste.

“Those are the ‘rot piles’?” Tigerheart guessed. He drew back into the shadow of the station wall.

“Yes.” Dash crouched beside him. From their hiding place, Tigerheart could see two mangy toms sniffing around the base of one of the rot piles while a big brown tabby she-cat dug through the litter at the top.

“That’s them,” Dash whispered.

“Which one is the meanest?” Tigerheart asked.

“Floyd.” Dash nodded toward the smaller of the toms. He was brown and white, his muzzle filthy and his ear tips torn from fighting.

“Okay.” Tigerheart assessed the three cats quickly. “You’re going to have to help—”

“But I can’t fight,” Dash protested in a whisper.

“You only need one move.” He turned on Dash and slowly but firmly swept one paw under the station cat’s front paws, tugging them from beneath him, then swept another softly over his ears.

Dash stumbled, but Tigerheart caught him before his flank hit the ground.

“You try it on me,” Tigerheart ordered.

Dash blinked at him, recovering from his surprise, then frowned thoughtfully. After a moment of concentration, he jabbed clumsily at Tigerheart’s front paws, managing to hook them with speed rather than accuracy, and then swung an awkward blow that caught one of Tigerheart’s ears.

“Not bad.” Tigerheart stumbled and regained his balance. “I’ll drive the she-cat from the top of the rot pile. As soon as she lands, you do your move on Floyd.”

“On Floyd?” Dash looked alarmed. “But what if he fights back?”

“Don’t worry. You just need to start the fight. I’ll finish it,” Tigerheart promised. “But it has to look like you attacked them, or they’ll keep hassling you.”

Dash nodded.

“Remember,” Tigerheart encouraged, “you’re fighting for your territory, okay?”

Dash’s eyes flashed anxiously. Tigerheart didn’t give him a chance to argue. “Follow me.” He marched across the stone and leaped onto the rot pile where the tabby was rummaging. His paws sank right into the garbage. He swallowed against the nausea that swept over him as he felt wetness seep into his fur.

The tabby looked at him in surprise. Her warm scent touched his nose. “Hi.” She flicked her tail at him flirtatiously. “You’re new around here.”

A hiss sounded from below. “Mae! Who are you talking to?”

Mae picked her way across the stinking rubbish and peered over the edge. “Just a stranger.” She glanced back at Tigerheart and winked. “It’s nice to see a tom who looks like he can feed himself.”

Tigerheart glanced at Dash, who was padding across the stone toward the two toms. “I’ve moved into the station with Dash,” he meowed quickly. “And we don’t think there’s enough food around here to share with you three.” He flattened his ears and gave her a warning hiss.

Her gaze hardened instantly. “Do you really think you and that fleabag can drive us away?” She curled her lip. “We’re the ones who own these bins. The sooner you learn that, the better.” With a hiss, she flung herself at him. He leaped clear, the garbage shifting beneath his paws. This wasn’t an easy place to fight. As he turned to meet another attack, his paws sunk deeper. Below, he heard an angry yowl.

“You think you can fight now, station cat?”