Tigerheart’s Shadow

“The healers will take care of her.” Fierce nodded to Peanut, who was already hurrying toward the sound of Dovewing’s wailing. “Peanut’s had kits of her own, and she’s helped cats in their kitting before.” She blinked gently at Tigerheart. “We get a lot of queens through here. Spire and Peanut know what they’re doing.”

“I want to be with her.” Tigerheart’s chest was so tight he could hardly find his breath.

“First you need to calm down.” Fierce fixed her gaze on his, her eyes shimmering. “I know it’s your first litter, but it will be okay.”

“It’s my fault she started kitting.” Guilt surged beneath his pelt. “I upset her.”

“If a queen started kitting every time some cat upset them, there’d be a lot of unexpected deliveries,” Fierce soothed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Tigerheart’s thoughts whirled. Why in StarClan had he mentioned Puddleshine’s dream? Dovewing already had so much to worry about right now.

“Tigerheart!” Dovewing’s cry cut into his thoughts.

He jerked his muzzle toward her. She was glaring at him, pain glittering in her fierce gaze. “Stop sitting there like a rabbit and do something useful!” She gasped as Peanut leaned into the nest and stroked her belly with a paw.

Tigerheart stared in panic. “What can I do?”

“Fetch me a stick to bite on,” Dovewing panted. “I don’t want these cats to hear me squealing like a kit!”

Tigerheart nodded and hurried to the gap in the wall. He scrambled outside, then raced to the tall chestnut tree he’d sat under with Spire. The Twolegs were still yowling inside. A monster rumbled past. White clouds dotted the sky. Tigerheart scanned the grass, spotting a sturdy stick lying beneath the tree. He bent down and bit it, relieved to feel it firm between his jaws. No bark splintered from the smooth stem. It would be perfect for Dovewing. Quickly he carried it back to the cavern, struggling to maneuver it into the gap. He pushed it through, end first, and it fell onto the ledge and bounced on the floor.

Fierce and Rascal turned to watch it tumble to a halt. Blaze hurried across the cavern and stood beside it. “What’s this for?” he asked as Tigerheart landed next to it.

“It’s for Dovewing.” Tigerheart snatched it up and carried it toward Dovewing’s nest.

“What does she need a stick for?” Blaze followed him.

“To bite on.” Tigerheart struggled to speak through the stick. He dropped it beside the nest. “It will help with the pain.”

Blaze stopped beside him and stared at Dovewing. Peanut had climbed into the nest and was soothing her with gentle laps behind her ears. Spire leaned in and ran his paws over her belly. Dovewing convulsed, a spasm jerking her body. “Why do cats have kits?” Blaze asked.

Spire turned from Dovewing and met the tom-kit’s gaze. “Blaze,” he meowed softly. “Dovewing will need water. Find a rag and soak it under the drip-pipe. Then bring it here. But wait until it’s dripping wet before you bring it back.”

Blaze nodded earnestly, then hurried away.

Tigerheart stared at Dovewing as another spasm gripped her. “Is she okay?”

Dovewing shot him a look. “Where’s the stick?” she growled between gritted teeth.

He pushed it hurriedly into the nest and she clamped her jaws around it and groaned as another spasm made her stiffen. She shuddered, then jerked.

Spire broke into a purr as a small, wet sac slid into the nest behind her. Quickly he nipped the sac’s membrane with his teeth and peeled the bundle of slick fur from inside. He placed it beside Dovewing’s cheek. “Meet your firstborn.”

Dovewing let go of the stick and, purring loudly, lapped at the tiny kit as it squirmed and mewled beside her.

“You have a daughter.” Spire blinked at Tigerheart happily.

Tigerheart stared at the kit, hardly able to believe his eyes. This small scrap of fur was what all the heartache and worry of the past two moons had been about. His heart seemed to swell until joy burst from his throat in a purr. “She’s beautiful.” How could he have ever doubted that he should be here with Dovewing? He thrust his muzzle close to hers, nuzzling first the kit and then her cheek.

She purred too, their gaze meeting as she turned her head to press her nose against his. “She’s so soft and—” A spasm cut her off. She nudged Tigerheart away, tucked the kit close to her chest, and clamped her teeth around the stick once more. Jerking, she groaned, and another kit dropped into the nest.

“A son,” Spire mewed happily, placing the soggy bundle beside the first.

Tigerheart watched as Dovewing bit down once more on the stick.

“Another daughter.” Spire placed a third kit beside the others. He ran his paw over Dovewing’s belly. “That’s the whole litter.” He sat back on his haunches and looked at Peanut.

Peanut purred. “It’s always good to help with kitting after taking care of so many sick and wounded cats.” Her gaze wandered to Marigold’s nest, which was empty.

Tigerheart looked at it. Boots, the one-eyed cat, was dragging the bundle of furless pelts apart and shaking them out with his teeth. “Where’s Marigold?”