Tigerclaw’s Fury

Chapter 10

“Don’t lie there like a dead pigeon! Go for his hind legs!” Tigerclaw hissed. Oakpaw was sprawled on his back, felled by a blow from an apprentice named Rowanpaw. The lithe ginger tom danced out of the way, purring.

“Too slow, Oakpaw!” he taunted.

Tigerclaw lashed his tail. “Are you going to let your enemy speak to you like that?” he challenged Oakpaw.

The pale brown cat scrambled to his feet. “No way!” He launched himself at Rowanpaw, paws flailing. Rowanpaw fell back with a grunt, and Tigerclaw noted with satisfaction that Oakpaw had unsheathed his claws and drawn blood. Slowly, slowly, these ShadowClan cats were learning.

“Is Rowanpaw hurt?” mewed a worried voice behind him. Tigerclaw turned to see Runningnose emerging from a clump of bracken, his nose moist as usual, and his eyes cloudy with concern.

“He’s fine,” Tigerclaw meowed. “He’ll move quicker next time, that’s all.”

Runningnose nodded. “I trust you to train these apprentices to fight in any battle, Tigerclaw,” he murmured. “No cat could doubt your loyalty to our Clan.”

Not for a moment, Tigerclaw thought. When he had returned from watching ThunderClan burn, he had let the ShadowClan cats believe that his shocked look was due to his fear that the flames would cross the Thunderpath. Tigerclaw had insisted on patrolling that border alone all day, watching long hollow snakes spurt water onto the burning trees while Twolegs scurried about, yelping. Even after three sunrises, the woods still smelled of smoke, and blackened, charred trunks could be seen deep in ThunderClan territory. Tigerclaw wondered if Bluestar had brought her cats back to the ravine yet. All of the dens would need rebuilding, and prey would be scarce, driven off or killed by the flames.

“I wondered if I could have a word?” Runningnose mewed beside him, jerking him out of his thoughts.

“Of course.” Tigerclaw checked that Oakpaw and Rowanpaw weren’t actually killing each other, then led the medicine cat away from the training area into a circle of hawthorns. “Is something wrong?”

Runningnose blinked. “The full moon is coming. How can ShadowClan go to the Gathering when we have no leader, no deputy?” He scraped at the ground. “But if we don’t go, every other Clan will know that something is wrong. Perhaps I should just ask StarClan to send clouds to cover the moon!” He strained to sound lighthearted, but Tigerclaw could smell fear coming from the old cat’s ruffled pelt.

“Has StarClan sent you any omens about who should lead ShadowClan?” he asked, trying to keep his voice mild. Inside, something stirred, a feeling of hunger, the certainty that everything he wanted was drawing closer.

Runningnose shook his head. “Nothing,” he mewed. “But perhaps I’ve been too busy, or too tired, to see the signs. My Clan is on the brink of destruction, and it could be my fault!”

Tigerclaw rested his tail on the old cat’s shoulder. “Look around you,” he urged. “ShadowClan is not on the brink of destruction! Your Clan is full of strong, able warriors. You know in your heart which one will make the best leader.” He stepped away from Runningnose, studied him carefully. “You alone know the signs that StarClan might send. Your ancestors trust you enough to be their voice in ShadowClan. You can help them choose the next leader.”

Runningnose’s head jerked up. “Are you saying that I should fake a sign? I couldn’t do that!”

“Of course not,” Tigerclaw soothed. “But surely any choice that the medicine cat makes is guided by StarClan, whether he knows it or not?”

Runningnose looked troubled. “You mean, StarClan would ensure that I made the same decision as it would?”

Tigerclaw nodded. “Think about it, Runningnose. There are still several days before the Gathering. Keep watch for signs from your ancestors—but also listen to the voice inside your own mind.”

Ha! purred Mapleshade.

Runningnose pushed his way out of the hawthorns, his eyes still troubled. Almost at once the branches on the other side of the little clearing rustled and Jaggedtooth emerged.

“He should choose you, if he has any sense,” the ginger tom meowed. “Why didn’t you tell him that, and help him make the decision?”

Tigerclaw blinked. “I cannot determine the will of StarClan.”

Jaggedtooth’s eyes glittered. “I don’t share your faith in dead cats,” he mewed. “Perhaps that makes things easier?”

Tigerclaw held his gaze and gave him a tiny nod. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Jaggedtooth. I won’t ever forget that.”

Jaggedtooth nodded back. “I know,” he mewed.

The sky above the pines was as dark as the water in the marshes, but the trees glowed silver in the light of a swollen moon.

“Tomorrow is the night of the Gathering,” Tigerclaw heard Fernshade whisper to Rowanberry. “Has Runningnose told you what he’s going to tell the other Clans?”

“I don’t think he’ll need to tell them anything,” Russetfur put in. “It’s going to be pretty obvious that Nightstar has died and we don’t have a leader.”

“Or a deputy,” added Applefur. “The other Clans will laugh us out of Fourtrees.”

“Be patient,” urged a quiet voice. Tangleburr had joined them. “There is still time for StarClan to answer our prayers.”

There was a stir of movement outside the medicine den, and Runningnose appeared, his gray-and-white pelt lit up by the moonlight. He crossed to the rock and hauled himself onto it. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a meeting!” he called, his thin voice echoing through the trees.

Tigerclaw unfolded himself from the shadows and joined the others as they sat at the foot of the rock. Runningnose looked no bigger or stronger than a kit, and Tigerclaw marveled at the way his Clanmates gazed at him with such respect, such trust that he would restore their Clan to how it should be.

“Clanmates, I know you are troubled about the Gathering,” Runningnose began. “I share your fears, but be strong! Have faith in our warrior ancestors to send us a new leader soon!”

There was a murmur from the watching cats, and Deerfoot stood up. “Soon isn’t now!” he hissed. “The Gathering is tomorrow! Does StarClan want us to look weak and leaderless in front of the other Clans?”

“Has StarClan given up on us?” wailed Rowanpaw. He was hushed by Stumpytail, who clouted him gently with one paw.

“Of course they haven’t given up on us,” Runningnose mewed, but his words were drowned by his Clanmates’ increasingly noisy protests.

“We’ll be pounced on like rats as soon as the Clans hear about Nightstar’s death!” yowled Ratscar.

“How can we survive without a leader?” snarled Tallpoppy. “No other Clan has ever turned up at a Gathering without one!”

Runningnose hung his head and said nothing. Tigerclaw could smell the misery coming from him. Don’t give up now, he urged. There is still something you can do.

Suddenly the medicine cat tensed. His ears pricked, and his gaze fixed on something at the foot of the rock. There was a tiny, pale glint among the grass, dappled in the moonlight. Runningnose jumped down and put his muzzle close to it. Then his head shot up in astonishment.

“It’s a claw!” he gasped. “Here, at the bottom of the rock. Has any cat lost a claw today?”

Warriors and apprentices shook their heads, and puzzled murmurs spread through the Clan.

Runningnose was studying the claw again. He reached out carefully and touched it with his paw, shifting it so that the other cats could see it. “Look,” he whispered. “The moon has cast shadows on it. Not shadows, stripes.” He looked up and stared at Tigerclaw. “Stripes like a tiger’s pelt.”

“It’s a sign!” gasped Dawncloud. “It must be!”

“StarClan has chosen our new leader!” called Blackfoot.

“Tigerclaw!” breathed Runningnose, and as one the cats of ShadowClan turned to gaze at Tigerclaw. “StarClan has spoken,” the medicine cat mewed. “And we must listen.”

Tigerclaw felt the breath catch in his chest. After all this time, the ancestors had chosen him! He had served them for so long, tried to challenge the weak leadership in ThunderClan, been driven out and forced to prove his loyalty to a new Clan. And now at last StarClan was rewarding him with a leadership of his own. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Tigerclaw closed his eyes and sensed the ranks of shadowed cats swell around him. Like a dark wave they surged through the forest, carrying him along on legs that seemed weightless. He felt a yowl of joy rise inside him as he raced into battle with his Clanmates. “Follow my lead!” he called, and countless warriors fell in behind him, matching their stride to his. Ahead, their enemy quivered with fear…

“Tigerclaw?” Blackfoot mewed quietly. “Runningnose wants to speak with you.”

Tigerclaw blinked open his eyes. The medicine cat was standing in front of him, close enough for Tigerclaw to smell his rancid breath.

Runningnose bowed low. “Will you do us the honor of leading us, Tigerclaw? StarClan has spoken, and it has chosen you.”

We did it! screeched Mapleshade inside his head. Didn’t I promise you this would happen?

“And we choose you, too!” yowled Boulder over the heads of his Clanmates. “You have led us out of the darkness after Nightstar’s death, and shown us how to be strong again!”

Tigerclaw dipped his head. “I am stunned by the decision of our ancestors,” he meowed. “I came late to ShadowClan, though I hope no cat would question my loyalty to each one of you. I never looked for this. If you’re sure, and if StarClan has spoken, then I can only say yes.”

“Hail the new ShadowClan leader!” called Runningnose, and the night air was split with screeches of joy and relief.

There was a faint rustle in the brambles behind Tigerclaw. He turned and saw a pair of amber eyes gleaming. Jaggedtooth limped forward, bleeding from one toe where the claw had been ripped out. Tigerclaw glanced down at the injury. “You took a big risk that it would work,” he murmured.

Jaggedtooth lashed his tail. “It paid off,” he growled. “You can thank me later.”

Tigerclaw turned and padded to the center of the clearing. The other cats fell silent as he sprang onto the rock. Tigerclaw settled his paws on the cold, smooth stone and looked down at his Clanmates: Nightwhisper and Jaggedtooth, former strays who would be loyal to him until their last breath; Runningnose and Littlecloud, his medicine cats, watching for signs that StarClan sent to their leader; strong warriors, healthy queens, and apprentices desperate to learn how to fight as bravely as he did. He caught Blackfoot’s eye; he would make him deputy before the moon rose above the treetops. Not Jaggedtooth, who needed to understand that Tigerclaw owed him nothing.

Tigerclaw braced his shoulders. He should prepare for the Gathering, when Bluestar would be forced to face him as her equal, at the head of a Clan that could match hers any day.

But that was tomorrow. For now, Tigerclaw was content to listen to his Clanmates calling his new name.

Tigerstar! Tigerstar!