Tigerheart’s Shadow

No visions of shadows swallowing the ThunderClan nursery. No hint that Dovewing was expecting kits. Tigerheart’s thoughts drifted. Should I be relieved? If the medicine cats hadn’t shared Dovewing’s dream, maybe she was wrong. This new prophecy about a six-toed cat might be enough to show her that her dream was just a dream. If it was something more, then StarClan would have shared it with the medicine cats, not just her.

Scorchfur’s sharp mew hooked him from his thoughts. “How can we send out a search party? We have barely enough cats to patrol our borders.”

Rowanstar dipped his head in agreement. “The SkyClan border can’t be left unguarded.”

Anxiety pricked Tigerheart’s belly. How could he leave a Clan that didn’t even have enough cats for a search party? There must be some way to persuade Dovewing to stay. He pictured meeting her at sunset tomorrow. What could he say to make her see that they would be safer raising kits with their Clans, beside the lake? And yet he couldn’t shake the worry that maybe she was right: Darktail had nearly destroyed them. Perhaps the Clans were no longer strong enough to protect their kits.

An angry hiss jerked him from his thoughts. Scorchfur and Tawnypelt were facing each other, eyes blazing with fury.

“Why do you think we chose a rogue over Rowanstar?” Scorchfur snarled. “He was a weak leader then; he’s a weak leader now.”

Tawnypelt’s fur bushed. Spitting, she sliced her claws across her Clanmate’s muzzle.

Tigerheart froze. What was happening? Why was his Clan fighting itself? As he watched, Scorchfur swung his claws at Tawnypelt’s face.

Tawnypelt ducked away, yowling with pain.

Her eye! Panic sparked Tigerheart into action. With a yowl, he threw himself between the fighting cats. He shoved Scorchfur away from Tawnypelt and shielded her, hissing.

Rowanstar stared, his gaze stricken with shock.

Tigerheart turned to face Tawnypelt. “Are you okay?” He gasped at the blood welling beside his mother’s eye. He felt fur brush his flank as Puddleshine slid in beside him and gently eased him out of the way.

What in StarClan had they been fighting about? Dazed with shock, Tigerheart turned. Alderheart and Willowshine were hurrying out of camp. Scorchfur had backed to the edge of the clearing.

Rowanstar stared at the dark gray tom with undisguised contempt. “How can we trust a Clanmate who turns on his own so easily?”

Scorchfur glared back at him. “How can we trust a leader who gives up on his Clan at the first sign of threat?”

Tigerheart’s gaze flitted from the two toms back to his mother. Puddleshine was quickly lapping the blood beside her eye. “It’s only a flesh wound,” he reassured her. “Your vision won’t be harmed.”

Relief swept Tigerheart as Puddleshine led Tawnypelt toward the medicine den. He could hardly believe that one Clanmate had tried to blind another. Nothing could be further from the warrior code. He’d known tensions had been running high, but how had it come to this? I should have stopped it. If his thoughts hadn’t been wrapped up in Dovewing, he might have prevented his Clanmates turning on one another. Instead I was worrying about whether I should leave my Clan. Guilt choked him. He pictured Dovewing, waiting, frightened and alone, carrying their kits. Love seemed to tear his heart into two; the pain left him breathless.

“Tigerheart.” Puddleshine was padding toward him, Rowanstar at his heels.

“Is Tawnypelt all right?” Tigerheart met his gaze anxiously.

Puddleshine nodded. “She’s in my den. I put herbs on the wound. She’s resting. But I must speak with you and your father.”

Tigerheart frowned. “Why?”

The medicine cat’s gaze moved from father to son, dark with warning. “There’s something I must share with both of you.”

Chapter 3

Tigerheart glanced uneasily around the camp. Was there time to talk with Puddleshine? The fight between Scorchfur and Tawnypelt must have shocked the Clan. Perhaps they should be reassuring their Clanmates instead.

“Snakepaw.” Strikestone waved the apprentice closer with a flick of his tail. “Come with me. We’re going hunting.” He was clearly trying to divert her attention from her mentor Tawnypelt’s injury, and the tensions within the Clan.

The honey-brown tabby she-cat looked at him eagerly. “Can Whorlpaw and Flowerpaw come?”

Strikestone turned to their mentors, Juniperclaw and Scorchfur. “We can hunt together. The fresh-kill pile needs filling, and the youngsters can practice hunting in groups.” He eyed Scorchfur warily, as though worried the dark gray tom was still enraged enough to claw at his Clanmates’ eyes.