by Erin Hunter
Tallpoppy blinked. “I don’t think Runningnose meant it quite like that.”
Tigerclaw took one step closer to her. “Really? Would you like to discuss it with him—or do you think he has enough to do already?” He flicked his tail toward the center of the clearing, where Runningnose was helping the elders to drag Nightstar’s crumpled body out of the leader’s den.
Tallpoppy looked down at her paws. “I won’t disturb him now,” she meowed. “Flintfang and I will show you how ShadowClan warriors are trained to fight.”
Tigerclaw led them to a sandy space among the pines not far from the lake. The forest echoed with the sound of cats striking, pouncing, and retreating as Blackfoot, Snag, and Mowgli tested the rest of the Clan. Tigerclaw stood back and waited for Flintfang and Tallpoppy to demonstrate the established ShadowClan battle moves. He recognized several of them: the stealthy approach, the leap with raised forepaws, the hind leg slice that unbalanced opponents as well as left their back paws bleeding and lame.
“Wait!” Tigerclaw called as Tallpoppy folded gracefully onto the ground after a swift strike from Flintfang. Tigerclaw went over and narrowed his eyes at the brown she-cat. “Why did you roll over so fast? Even if you get knocked over, you still have a chance to grab your opponent with your teeth or claws. If you do this to a smaller cat, or can catch a bigger one off balance, you’ll bring them down too.”
“I’m sure Tallpoppy would do that in the heat of battle,” Flintfang puffed, licking the ruffled fur on his chest. “But we have our claws sheathed now!”
Tigerclaw glared at him. “And how will that help when it comes to a real fight? Unsheathe your claws, both of you, and start taking this seriously. If there’s a danger you might get hurt, you’ll both sharpen up your moves.”
Tallpoppy’s eyes widened. “That’s how Brokenstar made us train,” she mewed. “This is a practice, Tigerclaw, not the real thing. Why risk getting injured when we are at peace?”
“If you’re as good at fighting as you say you are, you won’t get hurt,” Tigerclaw growled. “Now, try that hind leg slice again, Flintfang, and give Tallpoppy something real to avoid.”
Flintfang launched himself at Tallpoppy again, and this time Tigerclaw could see his claws glinting amid the thick gray fur on his paws. But Flintfang retracted them a heartbeat before he lashed out at Tallpoppy’s hind legs, and once again she dropped to the ground without being touched. Tigerclaw shouldered Flintfang out of the way. “Let me try,” he ordered.
He waited until Tallpoppy was standing, then rushed her, unsheathing his claws and aiming for the soft part of her hind leg just above her paw. Tallpoppy screeched and flung herself away from him. Tigerclaw stopped and looked down at her as she twisted her head around to lick her bleeding leg. “You’ll react quicker next time, won’t you?” he challenged. Tallpoppy didn’t look at him; she just nodded and kept swiping at her torn fur.
“I don’t think that was necessary,” Flintfang began, but Tigerclaw silenced him with a flick of his tail.
“Let’s get back to the camp,” he meowed. “The hunting patrols should have returned by now.”
Stumpytail and Clawface had done an impressive job of stocking the fresh-kill pile. The cats swarmed around it, keeping their voices low out of respect for Nightstar but unable to hide their delight at such a good haul. Tigerclaw stepped forward just as Oakpaw was about to drag a shrew from the pile.
“I want to say something,” Tigerclaw announced. All around him, the cats fell silent. Tigerclaw gestured to the fresh-kill pile. “Every bite we take tonight is dedicated to the memory of Nightstar. ShadowClan has lost a noble leader, and my companions and I are honored to share your grief.” He bowed his head in a show of respect. In his mind, Mapleshade let out a rasp of laughter. Nightstar was weaker than a newborn kit. Don’t think these warriors didn’t know that.
“Thank you, Tigerclaw,” mewed Runningnose. His voice cracked. “We are honored to have you here—you and all your companions.” He stood a little straighter. “On behalf of my Clanmates, I would like to invite you to move into the camp. You have proven your loyalty to ShadowClan many times over, and it’s what Nightstar would have wanted. You belong here now, not outside our borders.”
Tigerclaw blinked. He had not expected this so soon, and he could tell by the startled whispers that Runningnose didn’t speak on behalf of all his Clanmates. Should he make Runningnose wait a little longer, until the whole Clan was desperate for Tigerclaw to join them permanently? You can win them over more quickly if you’re among them all the time, Mapleshade pointed out. Tigerclaw waited for one more heartbeat, then bowed his head. “You are very generous, Runningnose. If you are sure that this is what Nightstar would want, then we accept.” He lifted his head, daring the ShadowClan warriors to challenge something their leader seemed to approve through the words of his medicine cat.
Rowanberry stepped forward. “Welcome to ShadowClan, Tigerclaw.” She glanced fondly at Clawface. “And to those of you who have lived among us before, welcome home.”
There was a murmur of approval from some of the warriors, and Stumpytail and Dawncloud touched noses. Snag and Mowgli stood at the edge of the crowd, looking wary.
Tigerclaw raised his tail. “Runningnose, I have a great favor to ask. Please may I give my friends Snag and Mowgli warrior names? Only then will they feel as if this is truly their home. I am sure Nightstar would want the same.”
Runningnose nodded. “Of course, Tigerclaw. Please, go ahead and choose their names.”
Tigerclaw glanced around at the watching cats. “Only if your Clanmates agree,” he meowed. “After all, a naming ceremony should be performed by a leader. I don’t want to offend anyone.”
“I’m sure we’ll cope, Tigerclaw,” meowed Fernshade drily.
“We don’t want the other Clans asking questions at the Gathering about where these cats came from,” Wetfoot agreed.
Tigerclaw jumped onto the rock, ignoring the ripple of surprise from the ShadowClan warriors. “Snag, Mowgli, come here, please.” The massive ginger tom and the sleek brown cat padded forward until they were standing below him. Tigerclaw took a deep breath. “Snag, Mowgli, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your lives?”
The two cats bowed their heads.
“I do, Tigerclaw.”
“I do.”
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior names. Snag, from this moment on you will be known as Jaggedtooth. StarClan honors your strength and your fighting skills, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.” Tigerclaw reached down and rested his muzzle briefly on the broad orange head. Then he turned to the brown tom. “Mowgli, from this moment on you will be known as Nightwhisper. StarClan honors your stealth and your courage, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.” Tigerclaw touched his head, and stepped back. “Clanmates, I give you Jaggedtooth and Nightwhisper!”
“Jaggedtooth! Nightwhisper!” cheered Stumpytail and Blackfoot. Other ShadowClan cats joined in, and the newly named warriors lifted their heads proudly.
“That’s not fair! They didn’t have to do any training!” grumbled a small voice from the back. Tigerclaw sought out Oakpaw and fixed him with a cold glare; the apprentice ducked his head and said nothing more.
Tigerclaw jumped down from the rock. “And now, Clanmates, we will honor our fallen leader Nightstar with the vigil that he deserves. Come, join me as we pay tribute to him.” He padded across to the small black shape that had tried so hard to give strength and leadership to ShadowClan after the defeat of Brokenstar. How did you ever think you would succeed in following him? Tigerclaw thought scornfully as he crouched by Nightstar’s head. He closed his eyes, listening as the rest of ShadowClan settled around him, pressing their muzzles against the cold, dusk-damp fur.
This Clan belongs to me now, Nightstar. Watch how I make it strong again, feared and respected throughout all the forest.
CHAPTE
R 9
“Tigerclaw, wake up!”
Tigerclaw stretched and opened his eyes, briefly confused by the tangle of brambles overhead instead of a smooth gray trunk. Then he remembered: He was in the ShadowClan camp now, not hiding in the wild woods like some kind of rogue. He rolled over, feeling the familiar glow of satisfaction. He and his companions had been in the camp for a quarter moon, leading their Clanmates in battle training, joining hunting and border patrols, constantly reassuring Runningnose that StarClan would choose a new leader soon. . . .
“Tigerclaw, you have to come see this!”
Tigerclaw sat up and looked at Clawface. “What is it?” he grumbled. “I’m not on the dawn patrol today.”
“I know, I’ve just returned with it. But something is happening on the other side of the Thunderpath. The forest is on fire!”
Tigerclaw leaped out of his nest and thrust past Clawface. Behind him, the scrawny brown warrior called, “It looked like the flames were right above the ThunderClan camp!”
Tigerclaw pounded through the thorns and raced through the pine trees, ignoring the brambles that snagged at his pelt. Nightwhisper was standing beside the Thunderpath, straining to see through the trees on the other side. A terrible roaring, crackling sound echoed from ThunderClan territory, and the air was acrid with pale gray smoke. Glimpses of bright orange flames flickered among the trunks, and every so often the distant rumble was splintered by the sound of a tree crashing to the ground. Tigerclaw crouched at the edge of the Thunderpath and scanned for monsters.
“Are you going over there?” Nightwhisper yowled over the noise of the burning trees. “Do you want me to come with you? There might be cats who need our help.”
Tigerclaw shook his head. “I’m not going on a rescue mission,” he growled. “I just need to see what’s going on. Stay here; I want to do this alone.”
Nightwhisper shifted his weight onto his front paws as Tigerclaw began to cross, as if he was about to follow. Tigerclaw glared over his shoulder at him. “I said, stay here!” He bounded across the rest of the hard black stone and plunged into the long, cool grass.
At once the scents of ThunderClan bathed his nose, cutting through the smell of cinders. Tigerclaw breathed in deeply, then burst out coughing as sharp smoke pricked the back of his throat. He ducked his head and pushed through the grass into the trees. The leaf-mulch beneath his paws was instantly familiar, and he quickly found his way to an almost invisible trail that led deeper into the woods, toward the ravine. The crackling of the flames grew louder, and Tigerclaw felt his fur grow hot as he neared the camp. As far as he could tell, the trees between the ravine and Twolegplace were burning, and the deafening roar suggested that the fire was heading straight toward the ThunderClan camp. No!
This is the Clan that drove you out! Forced you to live as a rogue, turned you away in favor of a kittypet! Mapleshade’s voice snarled in his ear.
Tigerclaw curled his lip. Don’t mistake this for caring about my former Clanmates. I want the satisfaction of destroying them myself, not watching them burn like trapped rabbits, that’s all. He wondered if Mapleshade could sense the horror that squirmed in his belly. No cat deserved to die in flames, surely?
He winced as Twoleg shouts rang out close to his ear, and giant figures, muffled by thick dark pelts, crashed through the undergrowth. A two-tone howl sounded from the Thunderpath, and something long and heavy was dragged past him, hissing over the crumpled bracken. Tigerclaw bounded in the other direction, weaving through the oaks and beech trees until the ground fell away steeply into the crevice that had been his home for so many moons. Smoke billowed over the ravine, and flames already licked at the brambles on the far side. Shrieks and yowls of terrified cats cut through the noise of the fire. Tigerclaw crept to the edge of the cliff and peered over.
Frostfur’s white pelt gleamed through the smoke as he nudged Bluestar up the path that led out of the camp. The leader stumbled along at a half run, caught up among her fleeing Clanmates.
“Head for the river!” called a voice from below. Tigerclaw felt his muscles tense. Fireheart was in charge, of course. Surely that mouse-brained ThunderClan leader hadn’t made him deputy? “Keep an eye on your denmates,” Fireheart ordered. “Don’t lose sight of one another.”
That should be me down there, Tigerclaw thought furiously. I should be saving my Clanmates, not some kittypet!
Now Fireheart was handing Willowpelt’s kits to Longtail and Mousefur, telling them to stay close to the queen, who was carrying the third kit. Tigerclaw scanned the cats for a pale ginger pelt and let out a growl of relief. Goldenflower was at the top of the ravine, racing toward the river. A tiny pale brown shape ran at her heels: Tawnykit had made it out.
Fireheart followed the cats to the top of the slope and paused. “Wait! Is any cat missing?”
Cloudpaw’s fluffy white head popped up. He looked as much like a kittypet as ever. “Where are Halftail and Patchpelt?” he squeaked.
“They’re not with me,” Smallear called from farther along the path.
“They must still be in camp!” meowed Whitestorm. Tigerclaw shrugged. If elders couldn’t manage to save themselves, they were a waste of fresh-kill.
“Where’s Bramblekit?” Goldenflower shrieked, and Tigerclaw felt the blood chill in his veins. Bramblekit! “He was behind me when I was climbing the ravine!” the queen wailed.
“I’ll find them,” Fireheart meowed. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay here any longer. Whitestorm and Darkstripe, make sure the rest of the Clan make it to the river.”
“You can’t go back down there!” Sandstorm yowled.
“I have to,” Fireheart insisted. Yes, play the hero, run into fire to show just what a loyal little warrior you are. Tigerclaw sank his claws into the dusty soil. Where is Bramblekit?
“I’m coming too,” Sandstorm mewed.
“No!” Whitestorm told her. “We are short of warriors already. We need you to help get the Clan to the river.”
“Then I’ll come!” Tigerclaw blinked as Cinderpelt staggered back to the edge of the ravine. The pale gray medicine cat looked exhausted, her eyes streaming from the smoke. “I’m no warrior,” Cinderpelt mewed. “I’d be no use anyway if we met an enemy patrol.”
“No way!” Fireheart hissed.
Then Yellowfang lurched over to them. “I may be old, but I’m steadier on my paws than you,” mewed the old medicine cat to Cinderpelt. “The Clan will need your healing skills. I’ll go with Fireheart. You stay with the Clan.”
Tigerclaw stared in disbelief. Was the life of his son dependent on an ancient medicine cat and an arrogant kittypet?
Cinderpelt looked as if she was going to say something, but Fireheart cut her off. “There’s no time to argue. Yellowfang, come with me. The rest of you, head for the river.” He turned and ran back down the path with Yellowfang lumbering behind him.
Tigerclaw peered through the smoke, searching desperately for a small dark brown shape. Flames were devouring the ferns around the camp and twining around the slender tree trunks. Two filthy, blurred shapes were just visible at the foot of a birch. Yellowfang rushed forward and grabbed the closest body—Tigerclaw was pretty sure it was Halftail—and started to drag it across the clearing. Fireheart hauled Patchpelt through the gorse tunnel first and managed to get the old tom to the top of the cliff. Yellowfang and Halftail were much slower, and the trees around them exploded in fire before they were halfway up the slope.
“Help! Help!”
Tigerclaw whipped his head around and stared in horror at the tiny cat clinging to the branch of a tree that sprouted from the side of the ravine. “Bramblekit!” he roared. The bark just below his son was smoldering, and in the next heartbeat the whole trunk was ablaze. Tigerclaw was about to launch himself off the top of the cliff when there was a blur of movement and a soot-stained shape raced up the tree.
“Fireheart, help me!” As Bramblekit screamed, he let go of the branch and dropped toward the ground. Tige
rclaw watched, unable to breathe, as Fireheart managed to catch the kit in his mouth. There was no way they would make it down the trunk now. Fireheart began to creep along the branch, still carrying Bramblekit. Every hair on Tigerclaw’s pelt stood on end, urging him to fly through the air and somehow rescue his son. But his weight would only bring the branch crashing down into the flames. He had to let Fireheart do this alone.
The flames leaped up to reach the branch and there was a terrible crack. The branch started to fall, but Fireheart somehow managed to jump clear at the last moment and grasp the side of the ravine. Bramblekit lurched, and Tigerclaw braced himself to plunge down into the river of fire, but Fireheart kept hold of the tiny cat and began to claw his way to the top of the cliff. Below him, the burning tree filled the ravine with flames, blocking any sight of Yellowfang and Halftail.
Tigerclaw realized he was trembling. Thank you, StarClan, for sparing my son. He drew back into the ferns and glowered at Fireheart, who had made it to the rest of his Clanmates and was being fawned over like he had saved the entire forest on his own. You may have saved my son, but this changes nothing, Tigerclaw growled under his breath. I will still kill you when I have the chance.
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.
