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What comes after death? Only the dead can say. Medicine cats may commune with spirits but they just regurgitate what the dead fools demand. Tigerstar knows he isn’t going to StarClan (and he laughs at such an absurd idea!) Why would he be granted access to a starry paradise which he so openly defied? He chose his path and paid for it. The only regret he has was not being able to wipe that smug heroic smile off of Fireheart’s face.
The afterlife is seemingly painless. An eternal existence suspended in complete darkness. Tigerstar’s eyelids are heavy. Heavy as the sun sinking at sundown. Sore is an understatement. His body feels like a pile of stones. Detestation bubbles and burns within his soul.
If it weren’t for Fireheart or Scourge, he would’ve been ruler of the entire forest! He was the only cat with enough ingenuity and ambition to steer the other weak clans to success! TigerClan unified four into one. No more needless war, no more petty territory fights, and no more bee-brained leaders dragging their Clan into disaster.
I was too careless, Tigerstar thought. Scourge had betrayed him at the last minute and gutted him. I shouldn’t have asked for an outsider’s help. BloodClan had the numbers though and he greatly needed more in the ranks to fight Fireheart’s cats. If he could just do things over again…
Are you really done here? You’re just going to lie down and die? A soundless disembodied voice taunted Tigerstar.
Never! But he has no strength to speak, to shout that one rebellious answer.
You’re a warrior aren’t you?
The best! No other cat has the courage, smarts, or ambition like I do!
Then stand. You’re not done yet...
The perpetual starless night fades away. His body feels lighter. Tigerstar opens his eyes and meets a leafy ceiling sewn with red flowers. A pungent and bitter scent of herbs attacks his senses. Was he in a medicine den? Did a loner save him? Surely he couldn’t have survived?
Scourge had thoroughly cleaved him in half. Tigerstar had to suffer a torturously long death as the nine lives he had been bestowed (by foolish StarClan cats driven by panic no less!) tried to revive him and mend his wounds. The giant tabby had been vaguely aware of blood pooling beneath him as his guts spilled out next to him. Bugs and maggots are probably feasting on Tigerstar’s corpse right now. The cats probably didn’t even give him a proper burial either. Which Tigerstar could only scoff at. He’s worth a lot more whiskers than all of those spineless so-called warriors.
“Thank Star –well, actually…thank TigerClan! You’re alive! Sort of.”
Tigerstar recognizes that insufferable shrill voice. “Darkstripe?”
“Move out of the way, fool!” A ragged-looking she-cat swats a paw at Darkstripe. From a quick glance she’s a scarily strong force –one that even intimidates Tigerstar!
“I’ve got to finish these stitches otherwise he’ll die again. Our leader’s powers can only do so much when reviving the dead.”
“Ow,” the striped tom rubbed his bleeding cheek. “Sorry Mapleshade.”
“What happened? Where are we? Answer me!”
“Hah! Listen to this big cat. So demanding yet so powerless,” Mapleshade’s venomous laugh silenced Tigerstar’s interrogation. She places a paw on the tom’s neck, her reddish-brown claws gleaming in the early dawn light. “If I wanted to I could end your life once more. I don’t care what rank you had in your life, ThunderClan cat.”
“Mapleshade, don’t!” Darkstripe frantically waved his arms. “Tigerstar is just grumpy. He did die a horrible death, you know? And everybody is confused when they arrive here.”
“So did I! I feel no sympathy. His overconfidence killed him.” Her witchy golden eyes swing back to Tigerstar’s lively hateful ones. “Be grateful that you breathe once more. If not for our leader I would’ve let your useless cheerleader try his paw at being a medicine cat.”
Mapleshade inspected her stitching work and nodded. Tigerstar’s fuzzy mind started clearing as he chewed on bitter-tasting herbs that Darkstripe gave him. The two cats are dressed in strange red robes with white markings. Strength returns to his limbs like the thawing of the river in spring.
“Can you stand?”
Tigerstar sits up and grunted. The pain is a dull ache but at least he’s alive again.
Darkstripe smiled and grabbed his paw. “All of us ended up here when we died. Our leader revived us. It runs just like the Clans, Tigerstar. But better! We get powers!”
“Powers? Like nine lives?”
Mapleshade sniffed. “Hardly. But our leader has powers greater than StarClan themselves! He gives us bountiful harvests, mends our wounds, and revives the dead.”
“Yeah! We mostly get to do what we want! No more listening to StarClan’s hare-brained prophecies!” Darkstripe cheered. “C’mon, let me show you. Brokentail is even here!”
Daylight sears Tigerstar’s eyes and his lifts a paw up to save his sight. A big clearing forms into view. Stone fences surround them marred by flowers and moss. Cats and other creatures shuffle busily around –farming, fishing in a small pond, dancing, cutting trees or resting in the sun. Dragonflies and butterflies cheerfully float around the camp giving off a sense of serene calmness. At the center of camp is a statue as big as Four Trees of a lamb wearing a red crown. Like TigerClan, bones are a centerpiece of decoration. Wax red candles burn in the gaps of eye sockets or in bone palms.
Brokenstar bounds over to them, his eyes still scarred by claw marks. “I recognize that scent. It’s been a few moons since I’ve last talked to you, Tigerstar.”
The big tabby bowed respectfully. Out of all his cats, Brokenstar had been one of the most reliable and strong.
“What is this place, Brokenstar?”
“The Dark Forest. And it is Brokentail now. I’m glad to get rid of the ‘star’ in my name. StarClan is a place of brainless fools. They didn’t see the Clans full potential like you and me. Besides, they didn’t give us our leadership, we earned it ourselves.”
A bell tolled and every creature left their work or hobby to head to a temple, which Tigerstar guessed was like calling a Clan meeting.
Mapleshade walked past them and curtly asked, “Well? Best not be late.”
Inside is a place cast in blood-colored light. Shadows of purple and blue swath the crowd. Old wooden floorboards creak under pawstep. A lamb wearing a red crown stands before his warriors. “I called us here to warmly welcome a new member to our flock. I once again did an amazing feat, reviving the dead!”
The gathering cheered or uttered hellos to Tigerstar.
“I am Lambert,” he bowed gracefully. “Leader of the Dark Forest. Your friends have told me a lot about you. I hope you can provide us service so that our flock can be prosperous, Tigerclaw.”
“It’s Tigerstar,” the tabby’s tail lashed angrily. His sharp teeth gleam in the eerie light. “I’ve earned the name. I was leader of TigerClan.”
Lambert smiled menacingly. “Yes. You’ve great talent but I am the only leader here. Unless you think you can defeat me in battle?”
“A true warrior never backs down from a challenge,” Tigerclaw spat.
The cultists chuckled. Bloodlust shines in their eyes. Nobody has ever won a battle against Lambert. None.
Mapleshade rolled her eyes and her ears flickered with annoyance. “For a cat that nearly destroyed the four Clans he’s a pompous fool!”
Brokenstar sighed. “That is his one flaw. He thinks his previous victories ensure him future ones.”
Darkstripe eyed his ex-leader worriedly. Lambert can be merciless sometimes –and he doesn’t want to lose Tigerclaw after just getting him back.
Lambert’s crown turns into a trusty sword. Tigerclaw and Lambert circle each other warily, gauging the other’s battle capability. It’s time for another battle pit ritual and the crowd is anxiously waiting. It’s been some time since Lambert has participated over running the event.
“I don’t need a weapon to win,” Tigerclaw meowed. “My claws will cut through you!” He springs up using his brawny legs to lunge at Lambert. He aims for his opponent’s throat for a quick fatal blow.
The lamb simply rolls aside and swings his sword. Claws contact metal. Sharper than fangs the sword sinks into flesh, slicing through fur and muscle. Did some entity bestow Lambert powers? Though small as Scourge, Lambert isn’t at all afraid of Tigerclaw. Light on his paws, the lamb slices Tigerclaw effortlessly. The tabby had only gotten two strikes in.
He falls to the ground and an icy blade rests on Tigerclaw’s neck.
“Kill him!”
“Yeah, spill his blood!”
“He’d make a great meal, I’m starving!”
“I can make a pretty trinket from his bones, leader!”
Fear flashes in Tigerclaw’s eyes. He had been overconfident again.
Lambert soaked up his cultists’ applause. “Shall I get Brokentail to feed him yew berries? Or shall I sacrifice him?”
The flock clamored their answers.
Grinning sadistically he prodded the sword further on Tigerclaw’s neck. “What’ll it be? Will you stay in my flock or die again? If you stay, I can promise you immortality. I need strong deputies to help guide my followers.”
One in the same. Tigerclaw stares, jaws agape, with reverence. Finally, he runs into another leader with guts. None of the other Clan leaders had enough courage to stand strong. They let soft kittypets and silly prophecies enshrine their destiny. Serving under the red crown, Tigerclaw could do what he had failed at the first time.
“I’ll join your Dark Forest flock, lamb.”