Tigerheart’s Shadow

Struggling to get a paw hold, Tigerheart reared to meet Mae’s attack. He wrapped his paws around her and, holding on hard, threw himself onto his side and rolled over the trash toward the edge of the rot pile. Then he dropped over the edge, dragging her with him. As his paws met the stone, he let his hind legs fold beneath him, absorbing the impact of the landing while he still held Mae.

She struggled and hissed in his grip. Behind him he heard an angry yowl. He glanced backward and saw Floyd collapse onto the stone as Dash swung a blow at his cheek. Well done! He flung Mae away and leaped between Dash and Floyd while the ragged tom found his paws.

“Hi,” Tigerheart snarled. “I’m Dash’s new friend.” He sliced his claws across the mangy tom’s face.

He heard the tabby hiss behind him and kicked out his hind legs. His paws slammed into her chest. She grunted and staggered away.

The other tom stared, unmoving, from beside the rot pile. Floyd backed away, hissing. Tigerheart padded to Dash’s side as Mae glared angrily at Floyd, her pelt ruffled.

“Is that it?” she growled at the brown-and-white tom. “Aren’t you going to fight him?”

“You fight him,” Floyd spat back. “His claws are sharp.” He dabbed at his bloody muzzle with a paw.

“He threw me off the rot pile!” Mae snapped indignantly. She looked at the other tom. “What about you, Scrap? Aren’t you going to defend me?”

Scrap looked nervously from Tigerheart to Dash. “Why don’t we just go and find somewhere else to eat?” he mewed. “There are some more rot piles just down the street.”

Tigerheart showed his teeth. “Good idea.” These cats were mouse-hearts. “Go scavenge somewhere else. This is Dash’s territory.”

The rot pile cats glanced at one another uncertainly. Then Floyd shrugged. “I guess we could find other rot piles. There’s no decent food here anyway.” He turned and headed down the stone path that led toward a gap where monsters rumbled past. Scrap followed him, glancing reproachfully at Dash. Mae shot Tigerheart a look. “You didn’t have to get mean.”

“You’ve been bullying Dash.” Tigerheart glared at her.

“It’s his own fault for being so pathetic.” She hissed at Dash and headed after the others.

“At least he’s willing to fight for what’s his!” Tigerheart yowled after her.

“Yeah!” Dash fluffed out his fur. “So don’t come back here.”

Tigerheart glanced at him. “Are you going to be okay once I’m gone?”

“Sure.” Dash blinked at him happily. “Now that I’ve seen how easily they give up.”

“If they ever learn how to work together, they might be dangerous,” Tigerheart warned.

“They won’t.” Dash watched them as they disappeared around the corner. “Cats tend to look out for themselves around here.”

“They look out for one another where I come from,” Tigerheart told him, trying to ignore the prickles of sadness in his chest as he thought about how much fun it was, hunting with his Clanmates.

“Why?”

Tigerheart stared at him. Couldn’t he guess? “Cats are stronger when they work together.”

“But isn’t it easier when you only have to take care of yourself?” Dash seemed perplexed.

The tom’s words sparked guilt in Tigerheart’s belly. Wasn’t that the thought he’d had when he left ShadowClan? No! I’m going to find Dovewing. She needs me. He blinked at Dash. “You didn’t seem to be doing so well at taking care of yourself.”

“I made you help me.” Dash swished his tail. “That was pretty smart.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tigerheart told him. “I wanted to help you.”

“Really?” Dash looked surprised.

“Really.” Tigerheart glanced along the stone path that the rot pile cats had taken toward the Thunderpath. “Is the Twoleg gathering place that way?”

Dash followed his gaze. “Yes.” He glanced hungrily at the rot pile. “Do you want some food first?”

Tigerheart still had the scent of rancid trash on his paws. “No, thanks. I’ll hunt later.” He craned his neck, looking up at the dens towering around him. It was like being in a forest, with slivers of sky cutting between the soaring rooftops. The sun was sliding slowly behind them.

Dash was still looking at the rot piles. “Come on, let’s rummage for food. You’ll like it. Some of it’s really good.”

“No, thanks.” Tigerheart wished Dash would stop offering. He wanted to find out if the gathering place was the thorn den Dovewing had been looking for. “I don’t eat crow-food unless I have no choice.”

“Crow-food?” Dash frowned.

“Scraps,” Tigerheart explained.

“Crow-food.” Dash repeated thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, as though thinking; then he shrugged. “I guess if it’s good enough for a crow, it’s good enough for me.”

Tigerheart’s pelt pricked uneasily. Why did Dovewing believe it was better to raise their kits in a place where cats thought of themselves as no better than crows? “Come on.” He headed along the stone path, flattening his ears against the rumbling of the monsters at the end.