Tigerheart’s Shadow

Tigerheart sank into the grass. Dampness soaked his belly fur as he fixed his gaze on the thrush. Keeping as still as one of the stone slabs, he waited. The thrush chirped again. A warning cry? Had it spotted him? Tigerheart’s chest tightened. He glanced at the trunk, wondering if he could climb without being seen. But the branches had been stripped bare by the cold. The thrush would see any movement.

Frustrated, Tigerheart flexed his claws, longing for the shadows of the pine forest. Feeling helpless, he watched the thrush flutter onto a higher branch. It pecked at the bark, then hopped to a spot of moss farther along and began pecking again.

Disappointment dropped in Tigerheart’s belly like a stone. There was no way to reach the thrush without scaring it off. His kits would eat crow-food again today. Guilt tugged him toward his nest. If they woke, he wanted to be there to share crow-food with them at least. As they ate, he could reassure them that one day they’d eat real prey.

Movement jerked him from his thoughts. The thrush dived suddenly down and landed in front of one of the slabs. It began rummaging in the grass with its beak. Hope sparked beneath Tigerheart’s pelt. Slowly, he drew himself to his paws and began to creep toward it. The stone slabs hid his approach. He quickened his pace. He had to reach the thrush before it fluttered away again. Slow down, he told himself. He couldn’t let desperation make him mess this up.

Stopping behind the slab where the thrush was digging for worms, Tigerheart steadied his breath. He peered around the edge. The thrush hadn’t noticed him. As he eased into the open, Tigerheart’s belly fluttered with excitement. Whiskers twitching, he pounced and slapped his paws onto the thrush a moment before it could flap away in panic. Pinning it to the earth, he grabbed its neck between his jaws and killed it fast. Thank you, StarClan. Happiness surged through him at the taste of blood. He picked it up in his teeth, relishing its warm prey-scent as he hurried back to the den.

“Wake up!” He dropped his catch at the side of Dovewing’s nest.

Dovewing lifted her head, her nose twitching. “Thrush!” Pleasure sparked in her green gaze as she sat up and looked from Tigerheart to the limp bird. She prodded the kits, still snuggling against her belly. “Wake up, Pouncekit! Lightkit, wake up.” She lapped Shadowkit between the ears. “Tigerheart’s brought food.”

Blinking in the sunshine, which flooded the den, Pouncekit peered over the side of the nest. Her shoulders drooped as she saw the thrush. “That’s not food,” she mewed sadly. “It’s just a bird.”

“It’s prey!” Tigerheart bristled angrily. “And you’re going to eat it.”

Lightkit scrambled out of the den, her brown tabby kit fluff ruffled by sleep. She sniffed at the thrush. “It smells sweet.”

Shadowkit balanced on the edge of the nest, his nose twitching suspiciously. “Weren’t there any scraps?” He looked across the den to where the guardian cats were lounging, the scraps they’d gathered gone.

Pouncekit followed his gaze, sniffing. “I can smell meat.” She scanned the den.

“This is meat.” Tigerheart poked the thrush.

“It’s all feathers.” Pouncekit dismissed it with a flick of her muzzle.

Tigerheart’s belly tightened. Why wasn’t the scent of fresh-kill making them hungry?

Dovewing climbed out of the nest and began to tear the thrush into strips as the kits watched with a look of horrified fascination. Putting the feathery parts aside, she laid a small, meaty strip in front of each of them.

Irritation clawed Tigerheart’s belly. “Tawnypelt never had to tear my food up when I was a kit.”

Dovewing shot him a look. “Of course she did. They’re only two moons old. You can’t expect them to rip up their own prey.”

Tigerheart sat back on his haunches. Perhaps she was right. He must be patient.

“Try it,” Dovewing encouraged the kits gently.

Pouncekit sniffed uneasily at the strip of red meat before dabbing it with her tongue. She frowned and dabbed it again. Shadowkit touched his piece with his paw before sinking his teeth in. Lightkit grabbed one end of hers in her mouth and, hooking the strip with her claw, began tugging it with her teeth.

Dovewing blinked affectionately at Tigerheart. “It was good of you to catch fresh prey for us.”

Tigerheart didn’t answer. He was still staring anxiously at the kits. What if they never learned to love fresh-kill? What if he took them back to ShadowClan and they refused to eat?

“All kits are fussy about food at first,” Dovewing murmured. “Ivypool refused to eat rabbit until she was four moons old. And I hated shrews.”

“Really?” Tigerheart looked hopefully at her.

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded at the kits. All three were busy chewing on their strips of thrush. Shadowkit looked thoughtful. Pouncekit was still frowning. Lightkit’s cheeks bulged with food where she’d bitten off too much.

“Chew it properly before you swallow,” Dovewing warned. “Or you’ll get a bellyache.”