Tigerclaw’s Fury

Chapter 3

Tigerclaw opened his eyes to thin gray light filtering between the brambles. It was not quite dawn, but the air was warm and stuffy from the sleeping cats around him. Moving carefully in order not to disturb Clawface, who was pressed against his spine, Tigerclaw eased himself up and stepped out of the thicket. The Thunderpath was silent and the forest smelled clear and green. He peered through the trees, recognizing even in the half-light which trunks held the border marks for ThunderClan’s territory. He felt his fur start to rise as he pictured Fireheart curled in the warriors’ den, dreaming of victory. Sleep peacefully while you can, kittypet.

There was a crackle of leaves behind him and Snag appeared, shaking dust from his thick pelt. “Have you spotted a patrol?” he asked.

“No, it’s too early.” Tigerclaw turned and looked toward the Thunderpath, just visible between the tree trunks. “We can’t stay here. We don’t want to attract attention from ThunderClan, and we need more space for hunting. Wake the others. We’ll leave now, before the dawn patrols begin.”

Snag vanished back into the brambles, leaving Tigerclaw alone in the woods where he had been born. I will come back, he vowed. But only when I am strong enough to crush Fireheart and ThunderClan along with him.

Tangleburr was yawning as she pushed her way out of the brambles, but as soon as she saw Tigerclaw her mouth snapped shut and she lifted her head. “Where are we going?”

Tigerclaw flicked his tail toward the Thunderpath. “We’ll cross over and skirt the edge of ShadowClan until we reach the wild part of the forest.”

Stumpytail looked alarmed. “What if a patrol catches us? We won’t be welcome inside ShadowClan’s borders!”

“The sun hasn’t risen yet. There won’t be any patrols around,” meowed Blackfoot.

Tigerclaw led the cats through the long grass between the edge of the trees and the smooth black Thunderpath. The river of stone was silent, still reeking of monsters but damp with dew, making it quite cool and pleasant to walk on. The cats trotted across and plunged into the grass on the far side. None of them said a word as they entered the close-growing pine trees. Tigerclaw saw Blackfoot’s fur stand on end, and Clawface’s eyes stretch wide as he scanned for hostile former Clanmates. But the woods were as silent here as they had been on the other side of the Thunderpath. The cats crept undisturbed along the fences and walls of Twolegplace until they reached a tangled clump of ancient trees with thick glossy leaves and drooping purple-and-scarlet blooms.

“This is the farthest corner of the territory,” Clawface whispered. “These bushes came from Twolegplace, and they’re so difficult to get through that ShadowClan uses them as a defense against the wild part of the woods.”

“They’ll protect us just as well,” mewed Tigerclaw. “There must be some way through.”

Blackfoot walked along the foot of the branches, which dipped close to the ground. “There is a way,” he muttered. “I got through once when I was an apprentice.”

Tangleburr twitched her ears. “You were lucky you made it back! Who knows what could have happened to you on the other side.”

Snag blinked. “It’s just more trees,” he meowed. “What were you imagining? A Clan of foxes and badgers, waiting to rip your fur off?”

Tangleburr flicked her tail. “I was a loyal ShadowClan warrior,” she huffed. “It wasn’t my business to know what went on beyond the Clan boundaries.”

“Well, that’s changed, hasn’t it?” growled Tigerclaw. “Come on.” Brushing past Blackfoot, he climbed over a gnarled silver branch and wriggled into the center of the tree. He couldn’t see through the dense leaves to the other side, but there was a surprising amount of room among the twisted trunks. He heard the others follow him, and continued to scramble forward, ignoring the tearing pains in his belly. Soon he was surrounded by shiny leaves again, but he forced a way through and plunged into clear space on the other side. The wild part of the woods stretched out in front of him, looking more like ThunderClan than ShadowClan territory, with ancient moss-clad oaks and dappled ash trees rather than straight rows of pine.

The other cats lined up beside him, panting. “So, this is our territory now,” murmured Clawface.

Blackfoot pricked his ears. “That fallen tree over there looks as if it could be a den,” he meowed. He bounded over the mulch-covered ground, leaping twigs and clumps of fungus growing in the damp soil. He vanished behind the fallen oak for a moment, then reappeared on top of the trunk. “It’s perfect!” he yowled. “Come and see!”

Tigerclaw followed the others as they ran like excited kits to explore the oak tree. Finding shelter wasn’t a challenge. Even hunting would be easy here, with nothing but the occasional bold kittypet for competition. They needed to begin battle training as soon as possible—and Tigerclaw needed to find others to join them, because he wasn’t going to trust victory to these few cats again.

When he reached the far side of the fallen tree, Tangleburr and Stumpytail were already dragging ivy out of a scoop in the ground. “This will make a great nest,” meowed Tangleburr through a mouthful of trailing vines.

Snag trotted around the dying branches of the tree. “There’s a puddle of water here,” he announced. “It tastes fresh enough.”

Blackfoot looked at Clawface. “Shall we hunt, and get started on a fresh-kill pile?”

Clawface nodded, but Tigerclaw stepped forward and stopped him in his tracks. “This isn’t a game of mini-Clans,” he warned. “You don’t think I’ve given up on taking over ThunderClan? Bluestar is weaker than she has ever been, and she weakens the whole Clan by putting so much faith in a kittypet. As soon as we are strong enough, we will attack again!”

There was a flash of uncertainty in the other cats’ eyes, and Tigerclaw noticed Blackfoot glance at his belly, as if the white tom was concerned that Tigerclaw’s wound would never heal enough to let him go into battle. Are you sure these cats know that you are in charge? whispered the voice in his head. If they don’t believe that they need you as much as they need food and shelter, you are nothing to them.

Tigerclaw unsheathed his claws and let them sink into the soft earth. “Hunt, prepare nests, and make sure we cannot be seen by ShadowClan patrols,” he ordered. “Tomorrow we start our training.”

“Snag, don’t be afraid to use your weight against your opponent. If he can’t breathe, he’ll be easier to hit.” Tigerclaw put out his paw and nudged Snag forward so that he was hanging over Clawface, who was starting to look worried.

Stumpytail pricked his ears. “But now Snag is balancing on three paws, so I could knock him over, couldn’t I?” he suggested.

“Yes, but be careful where he lands. You don’t want to crush Clawface.” Tigerclaw stepped back and watched as Snag swiped his paw down toward Clawface at the same moment Stumpytail barged into his haunches. The big ginger tom lurched sideways with a hiss, leaving Clawface to scramble free on the other side. While Snag was on the ground, the other two cats leaped on him.

“Much better,” meowed Tigerclaw. He scanned the trees. “Where are Blackfoot and Tangleburr? They should have been back from hunting ages ago.”

They had been in the wild woods for three sunrises. All the cats were healing well now—even Tigerclaw’s wound had stopped oozing whenever he stretched it—and their temporary den had provided good shelter during a couple of heavy rainfalls. The trees were lush and heavy all around them, and hunting was easy as prey came out to eat the seeds and nuts that had been washed down by the rain.

Stumpytail glanced at Clawface. “They’ll be back soon,” he mewed.

Tigerclaw pounced on the note of uncertainty in his voice. “Where are they?” he growled.

“They haven’t crossed the border, I promise,” mewed Clawface, his ears flattened in distress. “But… but we’ve been taking turns to patrol on our side, looking for some sign that ShadowClan is all right. We’re worried about our Clanmates. We’ve been here for a while and haven’t heard or seen any border patrols. What if something terrible has happened?”

Tigerclaw narrowed his eyes. “Why should that matter to you? They are not your Clanmates now.”

Stumpytail lifted his head. “But they were close to us once. We have not stopped thinking about them just because we no longer live among them.” There was a note of defiance in his words that Tigerclaw appreciated. That kind of loyalty could serve you well, commented the voice inside his head.

“I’ll go look for them,” he meowed.

Clawface’s eyes widened. “You won’t punish them, will you?”

Fear is the key. “That depends on what they have done.” Tigerclaw padded away from the training area, a clear, smooth space defined by a tree stump, a row of brambles, and a tiny, gritty stream. He plunged into the undergrowth and followed a half-flattened trail to the wall of tangled trees. He guessed the former ShadowClan cats wouldn’t spend time patrolling here because it was impossible to see through the dense green leaves, so he trotted along the edge of the barrier until it yielded to more open woodland, where gnarled mossy oaks gave way to tall, whisker-straight pine trees.

It wasn’t long before he spotted Blackfoot’s white pelt slinking between the trunks. Tangleburr was a few steps behind, better hidden among the foliage. Tigerclaw stayed where he was, just within scenting distance of the ShadowClan border marks, and waited. They seemed to be following the line of the border, not crossing over, but close enough to be seen by any passing cats. They were talking to each other in low, anxious voices.

“Did you forget about battle training?” Tigerclaw meowed when they were within earshot.

Both cats stared at him, guilt shining in their eyes. “We… we were just on our way,” Blackfoot stammered.

“Don’t lie,” mewed Tigerclaw, padding up to them and sniffing their fur. “You smell of ShadowClan—more than you did already, I mean. Who have you been talking to?”

Tangleburr flattened her ears. “We didn’t cross the border, I promise. We just wanted to see how they were.”

Tigerclaw flicked his tail. “How who were?” He wanted to force them to admit that their loyalties still lay with their former Clan, that he would never be able to trust them, that all his training had been for nothing. You should kill them where they stand, encouraged the voice.

Blackfoot stepped forward, and Tigerclaw almost flinched as he realized the white tom was as tall and broad-chested as he was. “We have done nothing wrong,” Blackfoot insisted. “We just wanted to know why there were so few border patrols. We met Dawncloud and Rowanberry hunting on their own. There is a terrible sickness in ShadowClan, and almost every warrior has been affected. Without hunting patrols, the whole Clan is starving.”

“The sickness came from the rats at the Carrionplace,” Tangleburr put in. “Runningnose is doing everything he can, but there are too many infected cats.”

“Why do you think this is your problem?” Tigerclaw asked mildly. “Your Clanmates will want nothing to do with you because of your connection to Brokenstar.”

Blackfoot’s eyes flashed. “I was loyal to Brokenstar because he was the leader of my Clan, just as every ShadowClan warrior should have been. I am still a ShadowClan cat, whatever happens.”

Tangleburr nodded. “These cats that are sick and starving, they are my kin, my friends. I may have left the territory, but I can’t forget them.”

For a moment, Tigerclaw felt a stab of envy. He didn’t miss a single one of his Clanmates, not treacherous Darkstripe or Longtail, nor the weak and fawning kittypet-lovers among the other warriors. Was he going to lose control of Blackfoot and Tangleburr because of their sentimental attachment to cats who no longer cared about them?

You can’t challenge their loyalty, warned the voice. So use it for your own ends. If ShadowClan is as weak as they say, it poses no threat to your destiny. Remember, mercy is a sign of great power.

Tigerclaw blinked. “For your own safety, I forbid you to enter ShadowClan’s territory,” he meowed. “But I want to hear for myself what is happening in their camp. We will wait for the next patrol, and I will speak to them.”

They didn’t have to wait long. A slow, stumbling crunch of twigs and dried leaves announced the approach of a patrol. Regular pauses told Tigerclaw they were renewing border marks—as if scent alone would keep the ravaged Clan safe. Three cats stumbled into view between the tree trunks. Tigerclaw narrowed his eyes, recognizing Fernshade, Deerfoot, and Boulder. The big gray tom who had been born in Twolegplace spotted the waiting cats first and bounded forward.

“Tangleburr! Blackfoot! Rowanberry told me she had seen you! What are you doing here?” Boulder’s eyes were bright, but his ribs showed beneath his pelt and his flanks were tucked up with hunger.

“We live here now,” Tangleburr meowed, gesturing with her tail in the direction of the fallen oak. “Stumpytail and Clawface are with us… and Tigerclaw.”

Boulder’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve heard rumors of an attack on ThunderClan,” he meowed. “Was that you?”

Blackfoot flicked his tail. “That’s not what we want to talk to you about. What is happening in ShadowClan? Are you really dying from this sickness?”

Fernshade padded forward. She looked older than Tigerclaw remembered, her tortoiseshell fur patched and clumpy, and one eye stuck shut with weeping yellow ooze. “We have been sick from the rats before, but never this bad,” she rasped. “Runningnose hasn’t slept for a quarter moon, trying to find enough herbs for us all.”

“Why are you telling them this?” snarled Deerfoot, shouldering his way between his Clanmates. “These cats are no longer our Clanmates. They turned their back on the warrior code when they chose to follow Brokenstar.” He glared at Blackfoot and Tangleburr, then let his gaze rest on Tigerclaw. “And this cat is not to be trusted,” he growled softly. “What are you planning, Tigerclaw? I thought your Clanmates would have clawed your fur off by now.”

Tigerclaw forced his pelt to lie flat. “I chose to leave,” he meowed. “ThunderClan is ruled by a kittypet now that Bluestar listens to Fireheart before anyone else.”

Deerfoot’s nostrils flared. “I can’t imagine you giving up that easily, Tigerclaw.”

Tangleburr rested her nose against Fernshade’s flank. “You look so tired,” she mewed sadly. “Would you like us to hunt for you?”

“No!” snapped Tigerclaw and Deerfoot at the same time.

“We can hunt for ourselves,” insisted the ShadowClan cat.

“You owe these cats nothing,” hissed Tigerclaw. “I’ve heard enough. Come, follow me.” He turned, and for a moment his heart beat faster as he wondered if Tangleburr and Blackfoot would obey. There was a brief silence, then he heard paw steps padding after him.

“May StarClan light your path!” Fernshade called.

“And yours,” Tangleburr whispered in reply.

“We meet again, Tigerclaw!” snarled the ginger cat. “And this time, I won’t let you live!”

“Really, Fireheart?” Tigerclaw sneered. “Have you forgotten that you’re nothing but a soft-bellied kittypet?” He launched himself forward, claws raking the air in search of the orange pelt. All around him, he could hear ThunderClan cats yowling in fury, and the thud and scrape of paws as blows were landed. In his dream, Tigerclaw looked desperately around, trying to see who was fighting alongside him. Was he supposed to take on the whole of his former Clan alone?

But instead of well-trained ranks of warriors matching his strikes, there were nothing but shadows—shadows filled with shrieks and the crash of paw steps, but thin black air nonetheless. Tigerclaw felt Fireheart’s claws find the half-healed wound on his belly and he leaped sideways, snapping his teeth where the tom’s neck should be.

His jaws closed on a mouthful of dusty leaves, and Tigerclaw woke coughing and churning the leaf-mold with his paws.

“Are you all right?” Clawface asked sleepily from beside him.

“Fine,” growled Tigerclaw. He stood up and left the nest, shaking the bad dream from his pelt. If he had to fight every battle alone, he would not give up! Even with an army of shadows, he would still win!

He paused. He had dreamed of shadows fighting alongside him, screeching and matching him blow for blow. He tipped back his head and looked up at the milky sky between the branches. Was it an omen from StarClan?

Would it be ShadowClan that helped him destroy Fireheart?