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Chapter Text

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER BLUESTAR — blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle.

DEPUTY FIREHEART — handsome ginger tom.

MEDICINE YELLOWFANG — old dark gray she-cat with a broad, flattened face

APPRENTICE, CINDERPELT — dark gray she-cat.

CATS JAYFEATHER— gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

WARRIORS (toms, and she-cats without kits)

SWEETMINT — tortoiseshell she-cat

NIGHTHUNTER — black she-cat

WHITESTORM— big white tom. 

APPRENTICE, BRIGHTPAW

FROSTFUR— beautiful white coat and blue eyes.

BRINDLEFACE— pretty tabby.

OWLTUFT — brown tabby tom

APPRENTICE, FERNPAW

NEEDLENOSE — tortoiseshell she-cat with a thin stripe down her muzzle and nose

NUTFUR — light brown she-cat

DARKSTRIPE — sleek black-and-gray tabby tom.

LONGTAIL — pale tabby tom with dark black stripes.

RUNNINGWIND— swift tabby tom.

MOUSEFUR — small dusky brown she-cat.

APPRENTICE, THORNPAW

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat

LIONBLAZE— golden tabby tom with amber eyes

FIREHEART — handsome ginger tom.

APPRENTICE, CLOUDPAW

DUSTPELT — dark brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, ASHPAW

SANDSTORM — pale ginger she-cat.

APPRENTICE, TULIPPAW

SWIFTBLADE — black-and-white tom.

LIGHTFROST — gray-and-white tom

BRACKENFUR — golden brown tabby tom.

IVYPOOL— silver-and-white tabby she-cat with dark blue eyes

DOVEWING— pale gray she-cat with green eyes

APPRENTICES (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

BRIGHTPAW—white she-cat with ginger splotches

THORNPAW—golden-brown tabby tom

CLOUDPAW—long-haired white tom

TULIPPAW—pale gray with darker, amber eyes

ASHPAW—pale gray with darker flecks, dark blue eyes

FERNPAW—pale gray with darker flecks, pale green eyes

QUEENS (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

GOLDENFLOWER—pale ginger coat, mother to Bramblekit and Tawnykit

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat, mother to Hollykit and Honeykit

SPECKLETAIL — pale tabby, and the oldest nursery queen, mother to Snowkit.

WILLOWPELT — very pale gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes.

ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired)

HALFTAIL — big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing.

SMALLEAR — gray tom with very small ears. The oldest tom in ThunderClan.

PATCHPELT — small black-and-white tom.

ONE-EYE — pale gray she-cat, Virtually blind and deaf. 

DAPPLETAIL — once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat.

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER NIGHTSTAR— black tom.

DEPUTY CINDERFUR — thin gray tom

APPRENTICE, MARIGOLDPAW

MEDICINE RUNNINGNOSE — small gray-and-white tom.

CAT

WARRIORS 

BRIGHTFLOWER— black-and-white she-cat

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

APPRENTICE, BROWNPAW

FERNSHADE — tortoiseshell she-cat

APPRENTICE, MINTPAW

DEERFOOT — light brown tom

FLINTFANG—older gray tom

ROWANBERRY—brown-and-cream she-cat

APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW

RUSSETFUR—dark ginger she-cat

APPRENTICE, VOLEPAW

BOULDER— silver tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, WETPAW

APPLEFUR—mottled brown she-cat

SCORCHFUR—dark gray tom

REDWILLOW—mottled brown-and-ginger tom

WETFOOT—gray tabby tom

APPRENTICE, NIGHTPAW

LITTLECLOUD—very small tabby tom

WHITETHROAT—black tom with white chest and paws

QUEENS 

DARKFLOWER — black she-cat, mother to Rowankit and Cedarkit.

TALLPOPPY — long-legged light brown tabby she-cat.

ELDERS

ASHFUR — thin gray tom.

DAWNCLOUD— small tabby.

WINDCLAN

LEADER TALLSTAR — a black-and-white tom with a very long tail.

DEPUTY DEADFOOT — a black tom with a twisted paw.

MEDICINE BARKFACE — a short-tailed brown tom.

CAT 

WARRIORS

PIGEONFLIGHT — a dark gray tom with white patches.

SORRELSHINE — a gray-and-brown she-cat.

WRENFLIGHT — a brown she-cat.

FLYTAIL — a snowy-white tom.

RABBITEAR — a pale brown she-cat with a fluffy white belly and yellow eyes.

BRISTLEBARK — a black tom.

APPRENTICE, EAGLEPAW

MUDCLAW — a mottled dark brown tom.

APPRENTICE, WEBPAW

TORNEAR— a tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, TAWNYPAW

ASHFOOT — a gray she-cat

ONEWHISKER— a young brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW

HEATHERTAIL—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

FURZEPELT—gray-and-white she-cat

RUNNINGBROOK—light gray tabby she-cat

QUEENS

MORNINGFLOWER — a tortoiseshell queen, mother to Gorsekit.

ELDERS

STAGLEAP — a dark brown tom with amber eyes.

DOESPRING — light brown she-cat.

RYESTALK — gray tabby she-cat with amber eyes.

BRACKENDUST — brown tabby tom with brown eyes.

CROWFUR – black tom with a silver muzzle

RIVERCLAN

LEADER CROOKEDSTAR — a huge light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw.

DEPUTY LEOPARDFUR — unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat.

WARRIORS 

BLACKCLAW— smoky black tom. 

APPRENTICE, HEAVYPAW

SWANSOAR — silver tabby

STONEFUR — a gray tom with battle-scarred ears.

APPRENTICE, SHADEPAW

MOSSLIGHT — a gray-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, ICEPAW

LOUDBELLY — a dark brown tom.

MINNOWSCALE — dark gray she-cat,

SILVERSTREAM — a pretty slender silver tabby.

WILLOWMIST — smoky black she-cat.

WHITECLAW — a dark brown tom with white paws and amber eyes.

MINNOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat

MOSSYFOOT—brown-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, LONGPAW

GRAYSTRIPE — long-haired solid gray tom. (Father to Stormkit and Featherkit)

QUEENS

MOSSPELT — tortoiseshell she-cat, mother to Dawnkit, Robinkit, and Woodkit; fostering Stormkit and Featherkit

MISTYFOOT — dark gray she-cat, mother to Perchkit, Pikekit, Primrosekit, and Reedkit.

ELDERS 

GRAYPOOL — thin gray she-cat with patchy fur and a scarred muzzle

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

BARLEY — black-and-white tom who lives on a farm close to the forest.

RAVENPAW — sleek black cat with a white-tipped tail who lives on the farm with Barley. 

STRIPESTALK — black-and-white she-cat

TIGERCLAW — big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws, formerly of ThunderClan

CLAWFACE — battle-scarred brown tom.

STUMPYTAIL — brown tabby tom.

TANGLEBURR—gray-and-brown she-cat, formerly of ShadowClan

SNAP—a huge, thick-furred, ginger tabby tom with amber eyes, and a broad head

MOWGLI—scrawny, sleek, brown tom with green eyes and a distinctive, pointed muzzle.

JET—a black tom with blue eyes

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

SCRATCH—a brown tabby tom with green eyes and a black paw

PRINCESS — light brown tabby with a distinctive white chest and paws — a kittypet.

OLIVER — a fluffy white tom with brilliant blue eyes

SMUDGE — plump, friendly black-and-white tom who lives in a house at the edge of the forest.

HEALER — black she-cat with green eyes

CAVERN — scrawny, sleek, ginger-and-white patched tom with green eyes.

SCORCH—small black tom with one white paw and ice-blue eyes.

SURGE — light gray-and-ginger she-cat with white patches and yellow eyes, mother to Robin and Red

SPIN — gray-and-white tom with blue eyes

VIOLET—pale orange tabby she-cat with thin, darker orange stripes and white paws

Chapter Text

“Kill him!”

“Blind him!”

“Drive him out of the forest!”

The wound in Tigerclaw’s belly pulsed with agony, and he felt warm, sticky blood pooling beneath his paws. His Clanmates’ furious words seemed to be coming from a long way off, as if he were underwater, cocooned in peaceful cold. You lost! screeched a voice inside his head. Beaten by kittypets and fools! Tigerclaw felt his lip curl up ina snarl. I lost this battle, he conceded silently. But for as long as there is blood in my veins, I will not give up.

“Tigerclaw,” Bluestar meowed, “have you anything to say in your defense?” The ThunderClan leader’s blue-gray fur was streaked with blood— Tigerclaw’s as well as her own—Tigerclaw felt a thrill of satisfaction that his actions, his careful plans, hadn’t been for nothing. He may not have ripped away all of her remaining lives, but he had taken one. She wouldn’t quickly forget this.

The thought numbed the pain in his belly and gave strength to his trembling legs.

“Defend myself to you, you gutless excuse for a warrior?” he hissed. “What sort of a leader are you? Keeping the peace with other Clans. Helping them! You sent Fireheart and Graystripe to fetch WindClan home, and you then decided to help them in a battle we had no sense fighting in!

I would have never shown such kittypet softness. I would have brought back the days of TigerClan. I would have made ThunderClan great!”

“And how many cats would have died for it?” Bluestar replied softly. She shook herself, then lifted her head. “If you have nothing else to say, then I sentence you to exile,” she declared. “You will leave ThunderClan territory now, and if any cat sees you here after sunrise tomorrow, they have my permission to kill you.”

“Kill me?” Tigerclaw echoed. “I'd like to see any of them try.”

“Fireheart beat you!” Graystripe yowled.

“Fireheart.” Tigerclaw ignored whoever else was speaking and slowly turned his head to look at the ginger kittypet. A warrior name will never make you forestborn, no matter what your Clanmates tell you! “Cross my path again, you stinking furball, and we'll see who’s the stronger.”

Fireheart sprang up, tail lashing, even though one of his eyes was swollen shut from a blow from Tigerclaw’s paw. “Any time, Tigerclaw,” he spat.

“No!” Bluestar interrupted them. “No more fighting. Tigerclaw, leave my sight.”

Tigerclaw made himself stand up, in spite of the trembling that shook his paws. A fresh wave of blood oozed from his belly as the edges of the wound shifted. He heard gasps from the cats around him but ignored them. Pain is nothing! Defeat is nothing!

“Don’t think I’m finished,” he warned, staring at the battle-stunned faces around him. “Ill be a leader yet. And any cat who comes with me will be well looked after.” He looked for his closest ally in ThunderClan, the cat who’d always told him that he should have been leader by now. “Darkstripe?”

The black-striped tabby stayed where he was, sitting among the warriors. “I trusted you, Tigerclaw,” he whimpered. “I thought you were the finest warrior in the forest. But you plotted with that . . . that tyrant.” Tigerclaw guessed he was speaking of Brokentail, the exiled ShadowClan leader who now lived in ThunderClan’s camp. “And you said nothing. And now you expect me to come with you?” He dropped his head, unable to meet Tigerclaw’s gaze.

Traitor! You dare to deny me in front of all these cats? You'll pay for this with every hair on your pelt!

Tigerclaw forced his fur to stay flat. “I needed Brokentail’s help to make contact with the rogue cats. If you choose to take this personally, that’s your problem,” he sniffed. He looked at another cat who’d listened to his plans, promised to stand by him when he brought clear, strong leadership to their Clan. “Longtail?”

The pale tabby almost leaped out of his skin. “Come with you, Tigerclaw? Into exile?” He sounded horrified. “I— no, I can’t. I’m loyal to ThunderClan!”

You’re a pathetic coward, more like! Tigerclaw screeched silently. He scanned the ranks of cats, looking for a hint of understanding, a recognition that this weak and kittypet-favoring Clan was no place for a true warrior. “What about you, Dustpelt?” he growled. “You'll have richer pickings with me than you ever will in ThunderClan.”

The young brown tabby got deliberately to his paws and picked his way through the surrounding cats until he stood in front of Tigerclaw. “I looked up to you,” he admitted. “I wanted to be like you. But Redtail was my mentor. I owe him more than any cat. And you killed him.” His eyes grew huge and he started to shake. “You killed him and betrayed the Clan. I’d rather die than follow you.”

Redtail deserved to die! He was too much like Bluestar, always looking for peace and reconciliation. It was only luck that Oakheart hadn’t killed him before being caught by that rockfall. Redtail would have never survived that battle.

“Tigerclaw!” Bluestar broke into his memories of dust and falling stones and the bright red slash opening up in Redtail’s throat. “No more of this. Go now.”

Tigerclaw lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’m going. But Pll be back; you can be sure of that. I’ll be revenged on you all!” He turned and walked away, gritting his teeth against the pain in his belly. I will not show them how badly I have been wounded! He paused as he drew level with Fireheart. “And as for you...” he growled. “Keep your eyes open, Fireheart. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking behind you. Because one day Ill find you, and then you'll be crow-food.”

“You're crow-food now,” Fireheart snapped, but the stench of fear rose from him.

Tigerclaw stared into the warrior’s wide green eyes. You know already that I will kill you one day. Your last breath will be gasped beneath my paws. Your last drop of blood will be spilled on my fur. Stones will break and the sky will fall when we meet in our final battle.

With a flick of his tail that felt as if it was ripping his belly apart, he walked across the clearing without looking back. From inside the nursery he heard the tiny mewls of his son and daughter, Bramblekit and Tawnykit, quickly hushed by their mother, Goldenflower. I will come back for you, Tigerclaw vowed. He would not leave his kits to be raised in this Clan of weaklings. They deserved to learn from his example, to model themselves on his courage and skill in battle. Some skill you showed today! came the voice in his head again. Thistleclaw would have clouted you over the ears for letting yourself get beaten by a kittypet and a star-crazed old she-cat.

Thistleclaw wouldn't have dared to take on the leader of his Clan! Tigerclaw lashed back. If he hadn't let Bluestar become deputy in the first place, everything would be different. He would have chosen me to succeed him, and ThunderClan would be as strong as we deserve!

Before he reached the gorse tunnel, he heard one voice call out to him. “Wait.” He turned his head to see his kin, Stripestalk, padding towards him. She had been standing next to Dustpelt, but now she left the young tom. “I will go with you.”

Satisfaction blazed through him. Finally some loyalty! But first he had to be sure. “You’re truly willing to leave these cats behind?” he questioned, watching her for any sign of hesitation.

“You’re my kin.” Her voice was quiet, but confident and full of conviction. “You have served this Clan fiercely and loyally for seasons. They might not see how much you’ve sacrificed for them, but I do. Let me join you.”

Ah. She truly does believe in me. “Of course,” He rumbled.

Nighthunter and Lightpaw ran forward, followed by Dustpelt. “Please don’t go!” his sister begged. “I’ve already lost one daughter–I can’t lose you too!”

For a heartbeat, Tigerclaw felt a small spark of pity for her. Nighthunter’s other daughter Softpaw had given her life to protect the elders during a ShadowClan attack on the camp. Of course she didn’t want her other daughter to leave. She made a choice and now Stripestalk is making hers, the correct choice. He looked at her, to see how she would respond.

Stripestalk didn’t blink. “If Tigerclaw was our leader–if ThunderClan was stronger–you wouldn’t have had to worry about losing either of us.” Her voice was cold as ice.

“No, please!” Lightpaw begged. Tigerclaw’s youngest kin besides his new kits sounded devastated. His mother Mistflow, Tigerclaw’s other sister, had died in another attack Brokenstar had launched on ThunderClan, though she’d at least managed to take one of his lives first. Lightpaw had been grieving ever since. “I need you!”

“You’ll have to make do without me.”

Tigerclaw smiled. “You could come with. Nighthunter, Lightpaw, you are also my kin. I would be happy to welcome you.” I will give them this chance. My kin is always welcome if they are loyal to me.

“Never!” Nighthunter spat. “My loyalty is to my Clan, not to you!” She turned around and stalked pointedly away. Lightpaw didn’t say anything, just turned and followed her.

Dustpelt was left facing the two traitors alone. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Stripestalk snorted. “I’m doing what’s best. Go scurry back to the rest of your pathetic Clanmates.”

Without another word, she followed Tigerclaw out of the camp.

He pushed his way through the gorse tunnel, hardly noticing the thorns that clutched at his blood-matted fur. The barricade had been ripped and scattered by fleeing cats, cats who had sworn to fight alongside Tigerclaw until he had killed Bluestar, on the promise that he would make them his foremost warriors in the new ThunderClan. Tigerclaw spat onto the dusty earth. He should have known better than to rely on those half-trained rogues. Only a forestborn cat had the true instincts of a warrior. The ShadowClan outlaws had disappointed him, too, made soft by moons of surviving alone, too easily cowed by cats fighting to defend their home. Tigerclaw needed more time with them, to remind them of the training they had received under Brokenstar. The former ShadowClan leader may have been criticized for asking too much of his warriors, but he had made his Clan the most feared and powerful in the forest. Who could judge him for that?

And Tigerclaw might still have won if RiverClan hadn’t turned up at the tipping point of the battle, Mistyfoot and Leopardfur bounding in to rescue the Clan cats who had been their sworn enemies just a few moons earlier. Why did the Clans show so much mercy to one another? What did it matter to RiverClan if ThunderClan lost its leader? Tigerclaw felt his hackles rise. Of course, it was in RiverClan’s interests to keep Bluestar in command, weak and addled and unable to maintain her grip on Sunningrocks. It was probably Crookedstar’s greatest fear to have Tigerclaw in charge of his closest neighbors.

The dappled shadows cast by breeze-stirred oak and beech leaves gave way to cool damp gloom beneath the pine trees that bordered Twolegplace. Tigerclaw paused for a moment to check that no cat was following him, but the woods were silent apart from the call of a blackbird and a tree branch resting against another with a soft creak. He let himself sink down on a patch of moss, letting out a grunt of pain. He craned his neck to study the wound on his belly. Fireheart had been lucky to get so close to him. But if he’d really wanted to hurt Tigerclaw, he should have gone for his neck.

Tigerclaw dragged some loose moss against the wound, hissing as he pressed it hard to stem the bleeding. His head swam with pain, and he fought off a wave of blackness that rose behind his eyes. He pictured the Clan he had left behind, battle-bruised and cowering in the dust. Did he really want to command warriors that were so nearly beaten by a half-trained patrol of rogues? Fireheart had taken all the credit for winning, as always, and every cat had been hanging on his words, gazing in doe-eyed admiration. If they were so willing to listen to a kittypet, they didn’t deserve a leader such as Tigerclaw. How dare Bluestar cast him out? Had she forgotten how many times he had won battles for ThunderClan, found food for his Clanmates, defended the borders against their enemies? They owed him everything! But in the end they had treated him worse than a lice-riddled fox. He could have been the best leader ThunderClan had ever known!

Better than your father, Pinestar, purred the voice in his ear. He betrayed his Clan—betrayed you—when he left to become a kittypet. You would never walk away from your Clanmates if you were their leader.

The moss under his paw started to overflow with blood. With a grunt, Tigerclaw cast ıt aside and looked around for another clump. There was no more soft green moss, but he spotted some dry leaf-mulch within reach. He clawed it against his belly, packing it into the cut. He felt a burst of triumph against his surroundings: The forest had tried to deny him moss, but he had found something else!

Tigerclaw half sat up, pricking his ears as he stared into the trees. As clear as stars, his path stretched out before him. There was more than one Clan in the forest. More than one chance to become a leader. His destiny must lie elsewhere. Tigerclaw would return to ThunderClan only to crush his former Clanmates in battle. He would not fail again.

The air beneath the pine trees grew colder and the ground under Tigerclaw started to feel damp. He licked it to get some moisture, then heaved himself to his paws. He couldn’t stay here; the evening border patrol would be coming this way soon. He didn’t want to see pity in the eyes of his Clanmates if they found him wounded and exhausted, still inside ThunderClan territory. Wincing with every step, Tigerclaw limped deeper into the pine trees, Stripestalk. He stayed away from Twolegplace, with its curious kittypets and  stray dogs. Instead he headed for the wooden den behind a tall fence of pine trunks, where the Twolegs that cut down trees came in the daytime. He squeezed through the fence, leaving a smear of blood on the stripped wooden post. There was a gap the height of a rabbit below the wooden den. Tigerclaw crawled into the shadows and lay full length on the earth. There was a faint hint of mouse from farther under the den, but Tigerclaw didn’t have the strength to pursue the scent, let alone a scampering piece of prey.

Where is the moss that lines your nest in the warriors’ den? Where are the feathers? Is this how your life will be from now on, huddled on bare dirt, starving because you’re too weak to feed yourself?

Tigerclaw’s belly rumbled, but he pressed his cheek deeper into the soil to block out the sound. Right now, sleep was more important than food. Once he had rested, once he had eaten, then he could begin the destruction of ThunderClan.

*  *  *  *  *

Stripestalk sat down beside her unconscious kin. They had left ThunderClan in silence while he tried to tend to his own injury, though he had absolutely no idea how to actually do so. His idea of patching himself up was pressing moss and bracken against the bleeding, but that wasn’t going to do much. Luckily for him, she did know what to do. Spottedleaf had taught her well.

Once she was sure that he wasn’t going to wake up, at least for a while, she crept off into the trees. It wasn’t long before she found what she was looking for.

There was a clump of bushes that always provided a home for spiders. This meant it was an excellent source of cobwebs. Conveniently, it also had a decent patch of marigold as well, which would help stave off any infection.

Having collected what she needed, Stripestalk returned to Tigerclaw so she could treat him. He was still unconscious, but he was flailing and thrashing in his sleep. He must be having some kind of nightmare, likely about his failed attempt to kill Bluestar and Fireheart. She would let him suffer.

She bent down by his stomach and began to gently clean the blood that had dried to his fur. Thankfully, the wounds Fireheart had given him had stopped bleeding, so she didn’t make the injury worse.

Once the wound was clean, she chewed up some of the marigold and applied it, then plastered several cobwebs to hold it in place.

Now that she had dealt with the immediate issue, she could finally take some time to rest and think. Things had happened so quickly that she hadn’t really come up with a proper plan.

Not long before the previous Gathering, Dustpelt had been on a patrol that Tigerclaw was leading. The goal of the patrol was to find a safe way for ThunderClan to get to Fourtrees, since the newleaf flooding had been much more drastic than normal. At one point, Tigerclaw had spotted a dead tree bridging the flood and ordered Fireheart to test it out. This had turned out to be a trap, as Dustpelt had seen Tigerclaw dislodge the tree in an attempt to kill Fireheart. Once they’d gotten back to camp, Dustpelt had confronted Fireheart about this, and eventually learned from the warrior and from Sandstorm that Tigerclaw had murdered Redtail because he wanted to be deputy himself.

While Fireheart had gone to see the medicine cats, Sandstorm and taken Dustpelt and Stripestalk and told them everything. Stripestalk hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but she had eventually realized the truth. Sandstorm had left her to discuss things with Dustpelt, and she had decided right then that she needed to stop Tigerclaw.

The two of them had begun to plan, but the chaos of the Gathering, the joint ShadowClan-WindClan attack, birth of Graystripe’s kits, and subsequent attack that Tigerclaw had used the rogues and former ShadowClan warriors to launch had prevented them from actually planning.

Then, when Tigerclaw had been announced as a traitor and exiled, Stripestalk had made a hasty decision to go with him. She wanted to know what he was planning so she could try to stop it. She had told Dustpelt and he’d reluctantly agreed it was their best plan.

It had been so hard to go with Tigerclaw, to leave everything she had ever known. The pleading from her mother and cousin had just made it worse, and she had almost changed her mind. But her resolve had hardened and she had forced ice into her voice and done her best to radiate conviction.

Just before she’d turned away for the last time, she’d noticed Jayfeather watching her. He’d nodded approval, as if he knew exactly what she was planning. Of course he did, since the blind medicine cat seemed to know things. After all, he was the cat who had warned of Tigerclaw’s attack with impeccable accuracy. But her choosing to spy wasn’t something he could have known from his time, since she was well aware that she had never been born originally. He just knew.

The night grew darker as the moon set in the sky. There was still some time before the sun began to rise. She wondered how long it would be before Tigerclaw woke up. Knowing him, he would want to find the cats he’d brought to attack the ThunderClan camp as soon as he could move on his own.

Pawsteps crunched the bracken behind her and she turned to see Clawface. The brown warrior was moving uncertainly, as if he felt like he was doing something wrong.

“Clawface? What are you doing here?” she asked.

He froze at her words. Clearly he hadn’t realized she was there. “Stripestalk, apologies, I didn’t see you.” He seemed incredibly hesitant.

“As I said, what are you doing here?”

“Bluestar let me go,” he meowed. “She said that I was free to leave since I had no reason to stay in ThunderClan now that Brokentail was dead.”

She frowned. “That was generous of her.”

Clawface flinched. “Look, I’m not here to fight anyone. I just wanted to find the other ShadowClan exiles.”

“Why not go back to the ShadowClan camp?”

“They won’t want me back,” he mewed. “But maybe I can do some good with the other exiles. We all have much to make up for.”

His voice was genuine. Stripestalk realized that she trusted him, despite everything he’d done before his time as a prisoner. Clawface had fought beside ThunderClan in two separate battles, and he’d even renounced Brokentail. Perhaps he would be willing to help her in her mission.

“If you really want to make up for your past, maybe you can help me,” she meowed.

Confusion filled his gaze. “What do you need help with? Didn’t you abandon your Clanmates to join Tigerclaw?” There was no judgement in his words; instead, he sounded like he was remembering his own flight. “I won’t help any cat betray their Clan, not again.”

Hope warmed her pelt. He really was trying to change. “Actually, I didn’t abandon anyone,” she told him. “I left ThunderClan to spy on Tigerclaw. Whatever he’s planning isn’t good, so I’m going to stay with him until I know what it is and stop him.”

“Do you really think he trusts you?” Clawface questioned. “ThunderClan might have believed you, but Tigerclaw is smart. He’ll figure out what you’re up to.”

“We’ll see,” Stripestalk growled. She paused, realizing something. “If Bluestar only just let you leave, then that means that you were there for the deputy appointment. Who took Tigerclaw’s place?”

“Fireheart.”

A purr rumbled in Stripestalk’s throat. “Fireheart is the new deputy? That’s amazing!” With a smirk, she added, “If Tigerclaw ever finds out, he’s going to be furious.”

Clawface shrugged. “Hopefully he lasts longer than your last two.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Stripestalk growled, her cheerful mood fading. “ThunderClan has been through a lot of pain in the last few moons, some of which is your fault too. Don’t make light of what they’ve suffered.”

He lowered his gaze. “Of course,” he meowed apologetically. “I was speaking out of concern. ShadowClan has also been through a lot lately. All the Clans have.”

“Fair enough.”

He glanced down to study the poultice she’d made Tigerclaw. “Did you do this?”

She nodded. “I spent the first few moons of my apprenticeship doing both warrior and medicine cat training. For some reason, I just wanted to be able to help my Clanmates in as many ways as possible. Spottedleaf was happy to teach me.”

“You did a good job with it,” he praised.

“I had a good teacher.” She felt a surge of grief at the memory of the gentle medicine cat and then a stab of anger at she looked at the warrior who had murdered her.

“For what it’s worth, I am so sorry for what I did,” Clawface rasped. “It took me far too long to realize that Brokentail wasn’t worth following and that I was a terrible cat because of all I did. I want to make up for it now.”

Stripestalk met his gaze. “You did a bad thing–several bad things. But it doesn’t matter. Now it’s time to focus on the present and helping the cats who still need us.”

Clawface nodded. “I’m in. If you’ll have my help, I’m happy to give it.”

“Well then, let’s get started. Your first job is to find your former Clanmates and convince them not to run away when Tigerclaw finds them. That’s where he’s going to go first. He wants allies.”

He flinched. “StarClan help me.”

Chapter Text

He dreamed that he was on fire, scorched by the claw marks that Fireheart had left in his skin. He thrashed with his paws, but sleep held him fast, clutching him in a semiconscious daze. He was dimly aware of the daylight seeping in from outside, but before he could rouse himself and go out in search of food, it seemed that night was falling again, shrinking Tigerclaw’s world to a blur of pain and tortured sleep. He lashed out blindly at screeches from the mist that surrounded him, felt claws rake his fur and teeth snap close to his ears. He whirled, stumbling on legs that felt heavy and sore, but there was nothing except damp gray clouds behind him. Too slow, hissed the voice. Don’t let Fireheart and Bluestar catch you! They ll crush you like a bug!

“Never!” roared Tigerclaw. He woke with a start, breathless and writhing on his back. His belly burned like fire and his claws were unsheathed, clogged with dirt. He crawled out from beneath the wooden den into a cool, pale dawn. How many days had he lain here? One? Two? More? His vision blurred for a moment, and he shook his head to clear it. His mouth was as dry and sore as if he had swallowed feathers, so he limped over to a puddle that lay in a muddy rut close to the fence. The water was black and brackish, but he forced himself to lap until his throat had stopped hurting.

A blackbird pecked at the ground farther along the fence. Tigerclaw gathered his haunches beneath him and crept toward the bird, testing each of his legs. He felt weak, but a careful check of his belly showed that the wound had stopped bleeding and was covered in some kind of poultice. Stripestalk must have treated him while he was asleep. As long as he didn’t stretch too much, he should be able to hunt. Better to die from hunting than from letting myself starve.

As he drew closer to the bird, he stepped onto a heap of pine needles that crackled. The bird let out a squawk and tried to fly away, but a black-and-white shape of Stripestalk dropped down on top of it and squashed it to the ground. She killed it quickly. 

“You’re awake,” she commented, sounding relieved.

“How long was I asleep for?” he growled impatiently. He didn’t have time to exchange pleasantries.

She rolled her eyes and he couldn’t help but feel pleased that though she was helping him, she wasn’t just going to back down and act like a coward who could be pushed around. His kin would be a valuable asset.

“Just a day,” she replied after a few heartbeats. “Long enough for me to hunt for myself earlier and to redress your wound.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing that Spottedleaf’s training is somewhat useful,” he admitted reluctantly. He didn’t really want to think about what it would have been like if he had been alone, trying to manage the wounds alone.

The blackbird sent strength surging through his legs, and Tigerclaw emerged, blinking, into the light, shaking loose soil from his pelt. He squeezed between the wooden posts and set off through the pine trees at an uneven trot, gritting his teeth against the pain in his belly. He was outside ThunderClan scent marks here, but there was precious little undergrowth, so a passing patrol would spot him from a long way off. The tall wooden fences and red stone walls that marked the edge of Twolegplace loomed through the trees. The trunks thinned out and brambles and dense clumps of ferns began tangling around Tigerclaw’s paws. He signaled Stripestalk with his tail, then lowered his head and began sniffing where fronds had been bent back by a passing creature. There! Barely a fox-length from the ThunderClan border, he picked up the acrid, fear-stained scent of the cats who had fought alongside him in the attack.

Fought? More like turned tail like frightened kits! came the voice in Tigerclaw’s head. You were a fool to trust them! Tigerclaw flattened his ears. I had no choice! But now that I am free from my bonds to ThunderClan, things will be different.

Sniffing more carefully, he recognized another scent, one of a cat he thought had remained in ThunderClan.

“Have you seen Clawface?” he asked Stripestalk, who was following a few mouse-lengths behind.

She shrugged. “I thought I caught his scent while I was hunting, but it seemed foolish for him to be coming this way.”

“He may very well be a fool.” The mangy traitor had betrayed both him and Brokentail, but if he had gotten to his friends first, Tigerclaw might not be able to do anything about it.

Stepping carefully through the thick grass, Tigerclaw followed the scents along the very edge of Twolegplace. Splashes of blood left a visible trail, and he hoped the cats were not too badly wounded. He didn’t have time to nurse anyone, and Stripestalk’s talents would be better off focused on her skills as a warrior. These pitiful creatures were weak enough already. He kept one ear pricked toward ThunderClan territory, listening for a patrol. The sun was high overhead, the shadows at the foot of the Twoleg boundary barely wide enough to conceal him. Tigerclaw guessed that his former Clanmates would be resting after morning patrols, sharing fresh-kill before setting out again. His belly growled at the thought of food, but he forced himself to keep going. He wouldn’t be caught taking prey that belonged to ThunderClan!

The rumble of the Thunderpath drifted through the trees, and the scent of scared cats was muffled by the stench of monsters and their foul black breath. Tigerclaw forced his way into a solid clump of brambles, guessing that if he were frightened and wounded, he’d seek the thickest cover. He stiffened as he heard tiny whispers ahead of him.

“Keep still! Someone’s coming!”

“Has a ThunderClan patrol found us? We can’t stay here and be trapped like rabbits!”

“Hush! They’ll hear us!”

Tigerclaw burst through the wall of thorns with a yowl. Several pairs of eyes stared at him in horror. Then, one by one, they blinked and lost the sheen of terror.

“Tigerclaw!” meowed a sturdy brown tom. “You survived!”

“No thanks to you, Clawface,” Tigerclaw snarled.

“They were going to come back for you once their wounds had healed,” protested a broad-shouldered white tom with one black forepaw whom Tigerclaw had most certainly not expected to see. His name was Blackfoot, and like Clawface, he had been a ShadowClan warrior loyal to their leader, Brokenstar, before he had been taken prisoner and his followers driven out of the Clan. However, he had rebelled against the former leader at the last moment. ShadowClan had allowed him to stay, but he had decided to step down from his position as deputy, leaving the old fool of a tom Nightstar as leader.

Tigerclaw growled at him. “Since when do you associate with these cats?”

Blackfoot shrugged. “ShadowClan cast me out after Cinderfur and I brought back poisoned prey from Carrionplace. Since the patrol was my suggestion, they blamed me when he died and the rest of the Clan got sick.

ShadowClan is sick? Tigerclaw decided to keep that information in mind. It could become useful later.

Two other former ShadowClan warriors, a brown tabby named Stumpytail and a gray-and-brown she-cat called Tangleburr, stood up and stepped alongside Tigerclaw to brush their tails against him.

“I’m so pleased to see you,” purred Tangleburr, but the row of fur pricking along her spine told Tigerclaw that she was lying. All of these cats, including the former stray Snag, a huge ginger tom who lingered at the back of the makeshift den, watching with wary amber eyes, were terrified to see Tigerclaw risen from the dead. They knew they had failed him, had let themselves get beaten by a bunch of queens and elders in an unguarded camp. The only exception was the black-furred tom Jet. He didn’t seem afraid in the slightest. Tigerclaw breathed in their fear-scent and felt a thrill of satisfaction. These cats would do anything he wanted. He forced his long claws to stay sheathed, pushed down the urge to rip their ears for leaving him to face his former Clanmates alone. These were the only allies he had for now, and while they were scared of him, and in his debt, he could shape them exactly as he wanted.

He looked around. “Where’s Mowgli?” He had found the green-eyed, brown tom among the loners in Twolegplace, spotting at once the potential in his sleek muscles and hard, unflinching gaze. Tigerclaw had vowed to make Mowgli a senior warrior if he fought alongside him, and the brown tom had lapped up his promises as hungrily as any forestborn cat.

Stumpytail shrugged. “I don’t know. He got his ears clawed pretty harshly by that brown ThunderClan apprentice— Brackenpaw, I think he’s called. We haven’t seen him since.”

“It was Thornpaw,” Clawface corrected. Of course he knew the ThunderClan cats better than the rest of these pathetic lumps after being in the camp for moons.

Tigerclaw curled his lip. Beaten by an apprentice? He hoped he hadn’t been wrong about Mowgli. Clearly he needed more training, more encouragement to fight to the limits of his strength, even if his opponent still had kitten fluff around his ears.

Clawface limped forward with a scrap of fur and meat in his jaws. He dropped it at Tigerclaw’s feet. “I caught this mouse earlier,” he mewed. “You can have the rest if you want.”

Tigerclaw eyed the pathetic piece of fresh-kill. Would he be showing weakness if he admitted to his hunger and ate ıt? Or should he take advantage of these cats offering to feed and shelter him? What would a Clan leader do?

Bluestar would look for the weakest elder and give them the fresh-kill, purred the voice. But is that the kind of leader you want to be?

“Take it,” Stripestalk advised. “It will give you strength to recover.”

Tigerclaw bent his head and devoured the mouse loin in a single bite. Leaning forward to whisper in Clawface’s ear, he hissed, “Don’t think this excuses your betrayal. Thanks to you, I’ve lost much.” He looked up, swiping his tongue around his lips. “We’ll need more than that to survive. Who is the least wounded among you?”

Tangleburr raised her tail. “I have a bite on my flank, but it’s healing fast.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And Snag’s fur was thick enough to save him from any deep scratches.”

The loner padded out of the shadows. “I’II hunt if you want,” he rumbled.

Tigerclaw nodded. “Good. You two, bring back at least two pieces each of fresh-kill. Stripestalk, go with with them and make sure that they find something respectable.”

Tangleburr’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Stripestalk nodded, her face grim. Well done, you’re learning, thought Tigerclaw. The three cats threaded their way out of the brambles.

“Tigerclaw, your belly seems to be bleeding,” mewed Blackfoot hesitantly. He stretched out his neck and sniffed at the sticky scarlet fur on Tigerclaw’s side.

“It’s nothing,” snapped Tigerclaw. “It’ll heal in a couple of days.”

Blackfoot stepped back. “Those ThunderClan cats must have fought more fiercely than you expected,” he admitted.

Beside him, Clawface nodded. “Especially that so-called kittypet, Fireheart,” Clawface went on. “He may have been born in Twolegplace, but he’s sure learned how to fight like a warrior.”

“He is a kittypet!” Tigerclaw spat. “Don’t ever speak of him as a warrior. He has no right to be in the forest, no right to speak to Bluestar as if the blood of the Clans runs in his veins.” He turned away and paced in a tight circle, flicking his tail. “I will find more cats, and teach you how to fight properly, and then we will take on ThunderClan again and Fireheart will die!”

*  *  *  *  *

Stripestalk winced as the other two cats looked back her nervously. Snag’s eyes were narrowed and the fur along Tangleburr’s shoulders bristled.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she told her companions. “I’m here to hunt, just like you.”

“Tigerclaw sent you to report about us,” Snag pointed out. “Forgive us if we’re not completely enthused by your company.”

She sighed. “Just because Tigerclaw sent me doesn’t mean I’m going to bully you.”

Tangleburr’s eyes widened. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m not. I might have chosen to support Tigerclaw, but I’m not like him. I don’t think that battles and blood are the only ways to show strength. Sometimes, there’s a greater strength in trusting those around you and letting them rely on their own abilities.”

“If you don’t think like Tigerclaw, why did you join him?” Snag asked, sounding more friendly now.

Stripestalk closed her eyes and paused, before deciding to use the same story she had before. “My sister was killed by invading ShadowClan cats when we were still apprentices. Tigerclaw hadn’t been in camp because he was at the Moonstone, but once he returned, the tide turned and ShadowClan was driven out.”

“I’m sorry about your sister,” Snag meowed.

Guilt clouded Tangleburr’s eyes. “Softpaw was your sister, right?”

Stripestalk nodded. “Why?”

“Because I’m the cat that killed her.” Stripestalk felt shock sear through her at the words. “We were fighting near the elders and another pair of cats rolled by us. I was knocked to the ground and couldn’t see; I heard her coming towards me and lashed out. I didn’t realize my attack was fatal until she fell to the ground next to me and my vision cleared. I never wanted to kill any cat. I am so sorry.”

“I don’t blame you.” Stripestalk felt suddenly weary. She had at first. At first, when her sister had been killed, she had been angry. But Dustpelt had come to her, had talked to her. And when Brokenstar had killed Mistflow with the help of a brown tom, and Snag too, she realized now, she had confided in Dustpelt once again. They had gone on walks outside the camp and hunted together. He comforted her over the grief she felt for her losses and in exchange, she comforted him in his sadness at losing his once unbreakable bond with Sandstorm. Now, she realized that holding onto her anger just wasn’t worth it, which was something she knew Tigerclaw would never understand. It was one big difference between them.

“You don’t?” Tangleburr gasped.

Stripestalk shook her head. “A lot has happened since then, and I’m not going to let my anger distract me from helping Tigerclaw get what he wants.”

“Thank you.” The former ShadowClan warrior sounded like a burden had been lifted from her chest.

“Don’t thank me,” Stripestalk ordered. “Show your loyalty to the cats who deserve it and prove that you won’t make such a mistake again. The next time you fight, all your strikes must be with intent and purpose.”

Snag tilted his head. “For someone who says she’s not like Tigerclaw, you sound a lot like him.”

Good. Aloud, she meowed, “You know that Tigerclaw doesn’t want a cat’s death to be an accident. He would rather rip out their throat with his own teeth and claws, to watch the life drain from their eyes because of his strength.”

Tangleburr shivered. “Why did you join him?”

Stripestalk didn’t hesitate. “Because as long as I’m with him, I know that I’ll be able to control my own destiny.”

Chapter Text

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. Meanwhile, Stripestalk’s eyes were bright with excitement and curiosity. At least one of them is, he thought. My kin is still young enough for this to seem like an adventure. 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?”

“Or maybe a whole new kind of predator, like a dangerous bird,” Jet suggested, dryly.

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 faint pains in his belly; Stripestalk really had done well in treating his wounds. 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. “Its 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  others to join them, because he wasn’t going to trust victory to these few cats again.

Stripestalk was the only one who hadn’t forgotten all sense, and she padded behind him now, as calm as the stream in ThunderClan territory. She had always been a thoughtful, patient cat, not prone to impulsive actions like her peers or sudden ambushes like those stupid time travelers had enjoyed. Instead, she listened to his orders and obeyed promptly and completely.

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. Unfortunately for them, they had forgotten Stripestalk, who had climbed onto a low-hanging tree branch while they were distracted. Now she launched herself at Stumpytail, her leap giving her so much power that she knocked him three tail-lengths away. Now dealing only with Clawface, Snag managed to kick him away.

“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. He already knew the answer. Stripestalk had told him how the former ShadowClan cats had been trying to discover news about their Clanmates, but had found no luck.

“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 ıf 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.

“As will I,” Stripestalk offered.

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, whiskerstraight 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.

“You seem to be going the wrong direction,” Stripestalk meowed smoothly.

“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. The sickness in ShadowClan has gotten worse, 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.”

“Not to mention they still blame you for bringing back the sickness in the first place,” Stripestalk reminded him.

Blackfoot’s eyes flashed. “I was loyal to Brokenstar because he was the leader of my Clan, but I chose to do the right thing and stand against him. Bringing back the sickness was a mistake, a terrible mistake that I did not intend. 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 cant 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, Scorchfur, 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?”

Behind him Scorchfur muttered, “I did not realize it started this quickly.”

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.”

“You imagine correctly,” Scorchfur agreed. “Tigerclaw will never give up until he gets what he wants.”

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. Scorchfur burst out laughing, as he couldn’t believe the two toms had actually agreed on something.

“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 halfhealed 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?

*  *  *  *  *

While Blackfoot sat guard, Stripestalk slipped through the trees. It had been too long since she’d had a chance to get away to the agreed meeting place, but now she knew she had to go. She finally had important information to share.

After skirting around Twolegplace, she ducked under the clump of bushes where she’d collected the cobwebs and marigold to treat Tigerclaw. To her relief, Dustpelt was there, sitting farther into the clump of bushes watching for her.

“Stripestalk!” he purred. Thrusting his muzzle forward, he pressed it to hers then rested his head on her shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much, Dustpelt!” she whispered. She let her head fall to lean on his. For a few heartbeats, they stayed that way, and she felt safe for the first time since she’d left ThunderClan.

Then another voice caused her to jump. “Wow, he wasn’t kidding about how much he loves you.”

It was Lightpaw. She lifted her head to stare at her kin. He was watching her warily, his gaze dark. “Lightpaw, you’re here!” Why had Dustpelt brought him.

“Yeah, Dustpelt told me you needed to explain why you left us. He said it might help me feel better, though I find it unlikely.”

His voice was so bleak, she instantly felt immensely guilty. Poor Lightpaw had lost so much already. She had promised to watch over him after Mistflow’s death, and she had broken that promise.

“I can explain, Lightpaw,” she meowed softly. “But if I do, and you believe what I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone in ThunderClan about it. It has to stay a secret.”

He frowned. “It’s Lightfrost now.” He’s a warrior now? I missed his ceremony? “And what could you possibly say that would have to stay secret? Your mother would certainly like a better explanation than ‘Tigerdung is powerful and ThunderClan is too weak to protect me and my sister’.”

Dustpelt frowned back at him. “Lightfrost, I brought you here so she could explain, not so you could judge and make fun of her.”

“It’s okay.” Stripestalk let her tail rest on his shoulder. “I deserve it.”

“Yes, you do,” Lightfrost growled. “Now do what you came here to do and explain. And make it quick. I’m on a hunting patrol in the morning.”

She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “The first thing you should know is that I never betrayed ThunderClan. I went with Tigerclaw so I could spy on him. You need to know what he’s planning, and the only way to do that is for someone stay with him and get the information to you.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “You mean that you learned about Tigerclaw’s treachery after his attack and decided two heartbeats later to spy on him? Did you even have time to make a plan?”

“Technically, no, we didn’t really have a plan,” Stripestalk admitted. “But Dustpelt and I came to this part of the forest many times to talk, so I knew he would know to look for me here.”

“You spent leaf-bare hanging out under a bush?”

Dustpelt rolled his eyes. “That’s not what she said, mouse-brain. We’ve only met under this bush once, the last time she was able to come back and make a report to me. When we spent time before, we were in the open forest.”

“Anyways,” Stripestalk meowed, before Lightfrost could continue with whatever he planned to say, “Dustpelt discovered Tigerclaw’s treacherous nature before the flood Gathering and told me about it too. We started making plans to spy on him then.”

“But you couldn’t have known that Tigerclaw would be exiled until Bluestar actually gave the order,” Lightfrost replied. “You basically decided to go with him while he was recruiting other cats.”

It sounded bad when he said it like that. “Er-yes,” she admitted.

“Do you understand now?” Dustpelt asked him. “Do you see why she left?”

“I do, but I don’t,” Lightfrost told him. “Why did you have to go, and why didn’t Dustpelt tell any other cat?”

Stripestalk sighed. “Because, Lightfrost, until I give him important information that the Clan can actually do something about, I still have to make it seem like I’m helping Tigerclaw. That means hunting and battle training with the former ShadowClan cats and some other rogues, and possibly fighting for him if it comes to that.”

“Do you think it will?” Lightfrost gasped.

“If Tigerclaw has his way, there will be a battle at some point,” she growled. Glancing through the bushes, she realized the moon was starting to set. “I have to go!” she exclaimed. “Tigerclaw can’t know that I came here.”

“Any new information?” Dustpelt asked calmly.

She nodded. “Tigerclaw met with some ShadowClan warriors at the border. While he stopped our cats from really talking to them, they mentioned that they’re really sick from Carrionplace poison.”

“You said that before,” Dustpelt reminded her.

“But what I didn’t know before is that nearly all their cats are sick. If Tigerclaw wants to recruit cats, what better way than to help a vulnerable Clan recover?”

“Has he said something about doing that?” Lightfrost asked, his eyes narrowed.

She shrugged. “Not yet, but he probably will. Before I came here, he was muttering in his sleep about fighting beside shadows.”

Her kin touched his nose to hers. To her surprise, he had to bend down to do so, and she realized that he had grown taller than her. “Thank you for doing this,” he purred. “I will keep this a secret, but someday the Clan will know and they will honor you.”

“I don’t need honor,” she meowed. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for my Clan.”

Dustpelt twined his tail with hers. “Be safe,” he ordered quietly. “Once this is over, we can be real mates.”

She inhaled deeply, breathing in his familiar scent. “When this is over, I would like nothing more.”

Chapter Text

Tigerclaw waited until the patrol was nearly on top of him before stepping out from behind the clump of brittle ferns. Rowanberry stopped dead, her brown-and-cream pelt already spiking along her back. Behind her, the patrol scrambled to a halt, staring at Tigerclaw in alarm. Tigerclaw flicked his tail. “I come in peace,” he rumbled. “I know about the sickness in ShadowClan. My friends and I will hunt for you, asking nothing in return except that your former Clanmates are forgiven for their misguided loyalty to Brokenstar. They know they were wrong, and they want to make amends.”

Rowanberry peered past him. “I don’t see them here, though.”

Tigerclaw bent his head. “They don’t know I’m talking to you. They would be too proud to beg for your forgiveness, so I am appealing on their behalf. Please, let us stock your fresh-kill pile, find herbs for Runningnose, at least until you have beaten this sickness.”

Dawncloud stepped forward, her pale ginger coat glowing in the dawn sunlight. “Do they want to come back to the camp?” she asked.

Tigerclaw shook his head. “No, we will stay out here, in the den we have made for ourselves. I promise, we want nothing else but to help you.”

“I can understand why our former Clanmates might want to hunt for us,” meowed Flintfang, a gray tom who looked ready to join the elders, if his legs held up long enough to get back to the camp. “But why you, Tigerclaw? You have never been a friend to ShadowClan.”

Tigerclaw shrugged. “I am rival to no Clan now that I live outside any borders. Your Clanmates helped me not so long ago, and I am in their debt.”

Redwillow glared at him. Clearly, all the time travelers knew what he had done, though he wondered why they hadn't shared this information with their Clans. Don’t wonder why they’ve done this for you, the voice in his head advised. Take advantage of the secrecy while you can.

The old tom narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what Nightstar would say about this.”

“He’d say, ‘Pride won’t stock the fresh-kill pile!’” retorted Dawncloud spiritedly. “Tigerclaw, it’s a generous offer, and we accept.”

“But you don’t need to bring the fresh-kill to the camp,” meowed Flintfang. “We’ll meet you here at dawn tomorrow, and take it from you.”

Tigerclaw nodded. “Of course, if that’s what you wish. Have a safe journey back to your camp. We will be here tomorrow.” He turned before the cats could speak again and pushed deeper into the ferns. Mercy is a sign of great power. By the time the sun rose again, ShadowClan would be in his debt.

*  *  *  *  *

Blackfoot and Tangleburr were delighted to hear that ShadowClan would let them hunt on its behalf, but Clawface was less trusting.

“What if it’s a trap?” he muttered. “They may be sick, but they still outnumber us. Once we’re inside the camp, anything could happen.”

“They’re taking the fresh-kill from us on the border,” Tigerclaw mewed. “I’m not putting any of us in danger for the sake of filling their bellies.”

“This is good,” Stripestalk purred. “We’ll fill their bellies and then they’ll beg us to come back to them.”

Oh, this one gets it. “We don’t want them to beg,” he lied. “All we want is to help these cats recover from this cursed sickness.”

She dipped her head respectfully. “Of course, Tigerclaw.”

The ancient oak trees offered good hunting, though the ground was damper than Tigerclaw was used to. Snag managed to knock a squirrel clean out of a tree with a single blow from his paw, and Tangleburr returned with a brace of frogs dangling from her mouth.

“ShadowClan cats like them,” she mewed defensively when Tigerclaw curled his lip.

By the time they returned to the clump of ferns at the border, Tigerclaw was satisfied with their offering. Enough to make a significant contribution to a Clan’s fresh-kill pile, but not so much that it looked like hunting for ShadowClan was the only concern these cats had in their lives. Even after two long hunts the day before, Tigerclaw had insisted on battle practice as the sun sank behind the trees. Tangleburr’s strong neck muscles gave her a ferocious bite, and Tigerclaw had been encouraging her to sharpen her teeth on the stump of an old apple tree, which had the strongest wood. Snag was becoming less cautious about using his weight to his advantage, and it had taken Stumpytail several moments to catch his breath after a particularly heavy blow. Stripestalk was doing the best of any cat, which was unsurprising, considering she’d been living in a Clan until now. She’d developed a natural talent for tree attacks, and none of their companions could avoid her when she came at them from above.

“You came.”

Tigerclaw ignored the faint note of surprise in Flintfang’s voice. “I always keep my promises,” he meowed.

Boulder lowered his head and sniffed the heap of prey. “This will fill our fresh-kill pile better than it has been for days,” he commented.

Dawncloud blinked warmly at her former Clanmates. “Thank you. I’ll make sure Nightstar knows what you have done. There will be no grudges against you after this.”

“Good,” Tigerclaw mewed. “And to make sure that Nightstar knows precisely who has helped him, we’ll help you take this to the camp.”

Boulder tensed. “You said you’d stay out of ShadowClan territory for now. We can’t guarantee how our Clanmates will react.”

Tigerclaw stepped confidently across the scent line. “As Dawncloud said, your Clanmates will only be grateful for our help.” He looked over his shoulder at the cats waiting by the ferns. “Come on, all of you.” The former ShadowClan cats padded warily to join him. Snag brought up the rear, his nostrils flaring as the scent of the Clan washed over him. Stripestalk rolled her eyes at him, unafraid, while Jet dropped back and shoved him with one shoulder.

Tigerclaw picked up the squirrel—the largest piece of prey—and gestured with his tail to prompt the others to help. Flintfang narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Dawncloud led the way back through the pines, reaching out with her tail to brush against Stumpytail. Tigerclaw knew they had been close friends as apprentices, and he decided to watch the brown tom closely to make sure his loyalties didn’t return too wholeheartedly to his former Clan.

As they approached the thicket of brambles where ShadowClan made its camp, a wave of stench filled Tigerclaw’s mouth and nose. Behind his mouthful of squirrel, he tried not to retch, and he could tell by the looks of alarm on his companions’ faces that they were equally repulsed.

Boulder put down the sparrow he was carrying and halted just outside the entrance to the camp. “No cat has escaped the sickness,” he meowed quietly. “If you don’t want to risk getting infected, you should turn back now.”

Tigerclaw lifted his head. “We are not afraid to deliver help,” he insisted around his mouthful of squirrel fur. Beside him, Blackfoot nodded, although Snag looked increasingly reluctant to keep going.

They followed Boulder through the gap in the brambles, into the clearing at the center of the camp. Tigerclaw spotted the remains of a fresh-kill pile in a corner—now a pitiful scraping of bones and feathers—and strode over to it. He deposited the squirrel and turned to look around. Dozens of eyes gleamed from the shadows under the thorns, and the air was filled with shocked whispers.

Rowanberry emerged from a den. “Dawncloud told us you were going to hunt for us. We didn’t expect you to deliver it yourselves.”

Tangleburr dropped her frogs on the pile and trotted over to her old Clanmate. “We had to know how you are,” she mewed. “Please don’t send us away.”

There was a faint rustle of branches behind Tigerclaw, and he spun around to see Runningnose, the sickly ShadowClan medicine cat, stumble out beside a black tom who was so thin, his fur looked as if it was sliding from his bones.

Blackfoot let out a sharp gasp. “Nightstar!”

“You did a brave thing, coming here,” Nightstar rasped.

Tigerclaw dipped his head. “Your former Clanmates would not stand by and let you starve, and my loyalty is to them now. This is not courage, it is merely following the warrior code.”

Dawncloud went over to Nightstar. “Look, do you see the fresh-kill pile?” she prompted gently. “We will all fill our bellies tonight!”

“We can still hunt for ourselves,” growled a voice from the side of the clearing. Deerfoot walked forward, his eyes glistening with what Tigerclaw thought might be the beginnings of the infection. “These cats left our Clan for a reason. Maybe we should think twice before welcoming them back.” Noticing Blackfoot, he added, “And after you helped bring back the sickness, we should have killed you right then. I knew it was a mistake to let you stay after we defeated Brokenstar!”

Blackfoot flinched, and Tangleburr rested her tail on his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes,” she meowed quietly. “But we’re trying to fix them now.”

Runningnose flattened his ears. “These cats, as you call them, may have saved us all from starving to death,” he meowed. “Show them some gratitude, Deerfoot.”

Clawface was looking around. “Where’s Cinderfur?” he asked. “I heard he’d been made deputy.”

Rowanberry padded over to him. Tigerclaw recalled that she and Clawface had been mates a long time ago, and Cinderfur was one of their kits. “He died, Clawface,” she whispered, leaning into the fur on his shoulder. “He was the other one who brought the sickness into the camp, when he caught an infected rat.”

Clawface swayed and took a step back. “He died?” he echoed. “I should have been here, Rowanberry. If I had caught that rat instead...”

The she-cat tapped his mouth with her tail. “Hush. Our son walks with StarClan now. He will know what you have done for us today.”

Tigerclaw put his head on one side. “Who replaced Cinderfur as deputy?” he asked Nightstar.

The old leader started, as if he had dozed off while still on his feet.

“Nightstar has been too sick to choose a new deputy,” Runningnose put in. He stepped a little closer to the black tom so that he was supporting some of his weight. Tigerclaw thought he had never seen a weaker, more pitiful-looking pair of cats. “I fulfill the duties of a deputy for now,” the medicine cat went on.

Tigerclaw couldn’t imagine that took up much time. There weren’t enough healthy cats to organize regular hunting or border patrols, as he and the others had noticed from the other side of the boundary. He felt a stir of curiosity in his belly. A sick, elderly leader, no deputy, a medicine cat run ragged trying to treat the illness that ravaged his Clanmates . . . ShadowClan was sinking faster than a stone in a river.

Nightstar twitched and stood more upright. “Tigerclaw, you are most welcome to stay and share the fresh-kill with us,” he meowed formally. He gestured with his tail. “Please help yourself first.”

Tigerclaw bowed his head low. “We wouldn’t dream of it, Nightstar,” he mewed. “We caught this prey for you. ShadowClan’s need is far greater than ours. But, if you will allow it, we will continue to hunt on your behalf, until your Clanmates are strong and well again.”

Nightstar let out a faint purr. “You are so kind,” he rasped. “May StarClan light your path, always.”

Scorchfur and Redwillow let out hisses. “May StarClan light your path,” Redwillow mimicked scornfully.

“Oh, they will,” Tigerclaw murmured, ignoring the time travelers as he turned and summoned his cats with a flick of his tail. Clawface drew reluctantly away from Rowanberry, and Stumpytail cast a yearning glance toward Dawncloud, but they all followed him as he padded out of the camp and into the pine trees.

“I’ll show you to the border,” Flintfang offered, but Tigerclaw shook his head.

“Stay and eat with your Clanmates,” he urged. “We know the way back.”

Behind him, the other cats whispered their shock to one another, at finding their former Clan so ill and weak. Snag was sympathetic, vowing to catch every squirrel in the woods if that’s what it took to make the cats well again. Jet offered to find some herbs by their den so Runningnose wouldn’t have to leave to fetch them. Tigerclaw listened with half an ear. He didn’t care if every ShadowClan cat got sick and died. For now, he had an entire Clan in his debt, and that could only work in his favor.

If mercy is power, then I have never been more powerful.

*  *  *  *  *

The following day, Tigerclaw let the others go off and hunt for ShadowClan again, on the understanding that after sunhigh they would have a session of battle training. When the cats had crashed noisily through the bracken, deeper into the woods, Tigerclaw headed in the other direction, toward Twolegplace. The memory of Mowgli nagged at him; the loner may have turned tail and fled during the clash with ThunderClan warriors, but there had been something about the young brown cat—his eagerness to learn about Clan life, his appetite for battle—that suggested he might still be useful. Tigerclaw pictured the last time he had seen Mowgli, grappling with Fireheart, aiming his claws at the kittypet’s throat, before Thornpaw had caught him off balance and dragged him away. Tigerclaw knew he couldn’t judge Mowgli too harshly, not after Fireheart had overpowered him outside Bluestar’s den, after he had already managed to deal a killing blow to the leader. This Twolegplace rogue had skills that could be very helpful indeed. Tigerclaw decided that he was willing to give him one more chance. But if the brown cat failed again, he would regret it more than anything else in his life.

He reached a tall wooden fence and squeezed through a gap between the panels. His head spun as the cloying scents of Twolegplace crashed around him: flowers in colors that were rarely found in the woods, the sickly-sweet smell of too-short grass, and underlying everything, the stench of monsters, spewing their foul breath on the maze of Thunderpaths. Tigerclaw pushed through a bush with pale green leaves and jumped over a low stone wall. On each side, a narrow black path led between red stone Twoleg nests. He had a vague memory of being here before. If he went this way—he turned and trotted over the harsh stone, keeping to the shadow at one side—he could come to a dusty open space where strays came to bask in the sun. Ahead of him, the light grew brighter until he had to screw up his eyes. The sheltered path came to an abrupt end, and Tigerclaw peered into the bright white expanse. Several furry shapes lay on their sides, tails flicking lazily.

A head lifted up close to him. “We’ve got company,” the gray-and-ginger-furred she-cat mewed to her companion.

A large ginger tabby looked over at Tigerclaw. “He stinks.”

“That’s what forest cats smell like,” meowed the first cat. “What are you doing here, stranger? Did you forget how to catch squirrels?”

Tigerclaw ignored them. A flash of movement on the far side of the space had caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes and just made out a lean black shape with a distinctive pointed muzzle before it vanıshed behind a pile of stones. Pelt pricking, he padded around the edge of the space. Most of the strays paid no attention to him, though one growled at him to stop casting a shadow. Tigerclaw reached the place where he had seen the brown cat disappear and sniffed the broken rocks. He knew that scent...

“Mowgli?” he called softly.

He heard a rustle in the long grass behind the stones. “Tigerclaw?” came a cautious whisper. There was a pause, then a thin brown tom slid out. His eyes were huge and wary, and the fur pricked along his spine. “Did... did you come looking for me? Cavern said you would.”

Tigerclaw blinked. Who in StarClan is Cavern? “I don’t make a habit of coming into Twolegplace,” he snarled.

Mowgli slunk closer, his head so low that his muzzle almost touched the ground. “I’m sorry, Tigerclaw,” he mewed. “I know I shouldn’t have let that cat chase me off. I know how much you wanted that ginger tom killed.”

“Mistakes belong to the past,” Tigerclaw growled. He wasn’t going to let Mowgli think he wasn’t disappointed with him. “I want to know if you'd let it happen again.”

The brown cat looked up at him, his green eyes hungry for approval. “Never!” he vowed. “I’d spill the last drop of my blood to fight alongside you again!”

“I won’t ask that of you yet,” mewed Tigerclaw. “Things have changed. The other cats and I are living near ShadowClan now, but I still intend to destroy ThunderClan one day. And kill that ginger cat,” he finished with a hiss.

Mowgli stood up straight, almost as tall at the shoulder as Tigerclaw. “Let me finish what I started,” he declared. “You wort regret it, Tigerclaw.”

“I’ll make sure I won't,” Tigerclaw meowed. “Come, we have a lot to do.” 

He turned and trotted straight across the open space, deliberately scuffing a small cloud of dust toward the dozing strays. To his surprise, he heard them laugh and taunt behind him, but he and Mowgli had vanished into the gap between the Twoleg nests before the cats could haul their lazy bodies up.

*  *  *  *  *

The squirrel fled up the tree in its attempt to escape, and Stripestalk rolled her eyes. That might work on ShadowClan cats, but it’s not going to help you escape me.

Without breaking stride, she ran up the tree after the squirrel. It paused to look back at her, and she immediately lunged forward and killed it.

“Nice catch!”

She froze. At the base of the tree stood three ShadowClan cats: the time travelers Redwillow and Scorchfur, and Deerfoot, who had been challenging Tigerclaw since their first meeting. She already liked the light brown tom purely for that reason. However, she wasn’t stupid enough to let her guard down, and she was in her element.

“Did you come here just to congratulate me on getting a squirrel?” she called back, feeling uneasy.

Scorchfur shook his head. “We just wanted to talk to you.”

“Any chance you’ll come down?” Deerfoot asked.

Stripestalk shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m fairly comfortable up here. I’d wait till you say what you have to say.”

“I’m not sure that’s safe,” Redwillow pressed.

“You could always come up here with me.” That was never going to happen. Even her own Clanmates weren’t as comfortable in trees as she was and Softpaw had been. For reasons she didn’t know, she and her sister had firmer pads and perfect builds for tree-climbing. She often climbed trees just to feel close to Softpaw.

Deerfoot snorted. “I think we both know the three of us are not going to join you up there.”

“Excellent,” she purred. “That means you can talk from down there.”

“If we must,” Scorchfur sighed. “We just came for answers.”

“Answers about what?” she demanded. What in StarClan do they need to know?

“We want to know why you went with Tigerclaw,” Redwillow told her.

She frowned. “Surely you know the answer to that, future cat.”

Scorchfur didn’t blink. “Actually, no, we don’t know that answer, because you aren’t in our future.”

Stripestalk winced. She had forgotten about that. She only existed because Jayfeather had saved her mother Nighthunter, and her mother’s sister Mistflow, from dying when they were kits. That meant that the time travelers would have heard no stories about her.

“And since you’re not in their future, it means they don’t know anything about you,” Deerfoot added, echoing her thoughts. “They’re understandably curious about this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” she growled. “I barely know any of you, and I’m not just going to announce my plans to a bunch of strange ShadowClan cats.”

Redwillow shrugged. “Suit yourself. But know that not all of us trust Tigerclaw. Your kin is a monster who is willing to fight and kill and lie to get what he wants. We might not be able to convince the others–believe me, we’ve tried–but you should know that you’re playing a dangerous game.”

With those words, he dipped his head to her and turned to leave. Scorchfur followed, but Deerfoot paused for a moment.

“You also should know that I didn’t mean what I said to Blackfoot. Scorchfur and Redwillow convinced him to go find the rest of our Clanmates. Any cats who are partaking in secret missions have great courage.”

Then he followed the others away from the tree, leaving Stripestalk shaking in the branches.

*  *  *  *  *

When Tigerclaw returned to the fallen tree with Mowgli at his heels, Snag looked surprised but greeted his old friend warmly and showed him where he could make a nest. Jet began to cheerfully tell about everything he’d missed. Blackfoot was more cautious.

“Are you sure you can trust him?” he mewed to Tigerclaw.

“If you think he might be a spy for ThunderClan, that’s highly unlikely,” Tigerclaw pointed out. “Last time ThunderClan saw him, he was trying to claw Fireheart’s throat.”

“I didn’t mean that he might favor ThunderClan now,” Blackfoot argued. “I just wondered how much we can rely on a cat who turned tail at the first sign of battle. What if he leaves us again?”

“Then he wont come back,” Tigerclaw answered. “He knows this is his last chance.”

Tangleburr padded over to join them. “We’re ready for battle training when you are, Tigerclaw,” she mewed. “Oh, and Clawface and I saw some ShadowClan cats by the border while we were hunting. They wanted to know if they could hunt with us tomorrow.”

Tigerclaw frowned. “What, in these woods?”

“No,” meowed Tangleburr. “Inside ShadowClan territory. That’s where they know the best places to find prey. But they thought they might be more successful if we helped.”

Tigerclaw felt a ripple of satisfaction run through his fur. Had ShadowClan warriors already realized how much they needed him and his companions? He waited a few moments before replying. “Very well, but we will still hunt separately for ourselves. ShadowClan must understand that we can survive without them.”

Tangleburr nodded. “Of course. Thanks, Tigerclaw. I... er... told Wetfoot that we’d meet them at the border just before sunhigh.” She blinked nervously. “If you said it was okay.”

Tigerclaw flicked the tip of his tail, just enough to warn Tangleburr that he knew she had promised help too easily. The she-cat looked down at her paws.

“Where is Stripestalk?” he growled, noticing that his kin was missing.

Blackfoot pointed his muzzle towards a tree. “She’s been watching out for approaching cats since she got back from hunting.”

Of course. The younger warrior was always stronger in trees. He appreciated that she was doing something useful.

Mowgli was looking confused. “I thought you hated the Clans,” he meowed.

“Only ThunderClan,” Tigerclaw growled. “ShadowClan is suffering from sickness and hunger. If we are strong enough to help them, we will.”

Clawface padded past them, heading into the shade of the oak tree. “I might take a nap,” he muttered. “Before we practice battle moves.”

Tigerclaw blocked him with one paw. “Will you always be able to take a nap before an enemy attacks? No. You'll train now, with the energy that you have. Understand?”

There was a flash of anger in Clawface’s eyes, then he nodded. “I understand, Tigerclaw.”

Good, whispered the voice in Tigerclaw’s mind. These cats must make no decisions on their own, not unless you want them to feel more powerful than you.

Tigerclaw felt his muscles tense across his shoulders. Never, he vowed silently. Clawface must pay for ruining my plans.

*  *  *  *  *

The following day, as the sun reached the tops of the trees, Tigerclaw was gratified to see the relief in the eyes of the gray tabby tom waiting for them at the border.

“I thought you might change your mind,” Wetfoot gabbled as they drew near.

Tangleburr glanced sideways at Tigerclaw. “We will help you if we can,” she mewed carefully.

Tigerclaw stepped over the border. “Right, which way are we going first?”

A small, light brown cat pricked his ears. “Wetfoot’s leading this patrol,” he chirped.

Wetfoot quickly shook his head. “It’s fine, Oakpaw. Tigerclaw can lead us.”

A bony, black she-cat scraped the mulch on the ground. “My belly thinks my throat’s been slashed,” she muttered. “Are we hunting or talking?”

“Okay, Darkflower, keep your fur on,” teased Blackfoot, and Tigerclaw was reminded with a jolt that his companions—apart from Snag, Jet, and Mowgli—knew these cats far better than he did, were friends and even kin with them. He couldn’t let that become a weakness for him.

“We’ll keep to the border with the wild woods,” he announced. “Follow me, and wait for my command to begin stalking.”

“We usually scent our own prey,” Oakpaw began, but Tangleburr cut in.

“Whatever you think best, Tigerclaw,” she meowed.

Redwillow let out a low growl. “Oakpaw, go ahead and argue with Tigerclaw as much as you want. He hasn’t had a brave apprentice in his long lifetime; Darkstripe was a pathetic, crowfood-eating suck-up, and poor Ravenpaw was bullied till he had to leave his Clan for his own safety.”

Darkflower gasped. “Is that true?”

“Of course not,” Tigerclaw meowed smoothly. “I’ll admit that Darkstripe was certainly disappointing when he failed to possess any ability to make decisions without me, but Ravenpaw was born a coward and he fled a coward.” Rage seared through him as he remembered the kittypet’s revelation that he had taken Ravenpaw away to safety. My apprentice should have obeyed me and left Sunningrocks when I ordered him to, and that kittypet should not have interfered!

“Ravenpaw felt unsafe in his Clan when the queens starting hissing at him because they believed in rumors.” Redwillow continue to speak against him. “But your Clan cares about you very much, Oakpaw, so go ahead and show Tigerclaw how a true apprentice keeps the warriors in check when it’s necessary.”

Before the apprentice could consider doing so, Tigerclaw plunged forward, relishing the feel of the ground beneath his paws, breathing in the green scents of the forest that swallowed him up. Behind him, the other cats matched him stride for stride; ahead of them stretched a swath of silent trees, swollen with prey just waiting to be caught.

*  *  *  *  *

Stripestalk sat watching Rowankit and Cedarkit wrestling on the camp floor. She’d offered to watch them for Darkflower while the queen went hunting. Tigerclaw had calmly agreed to this, likely thinking she could make use of this time to try to influence the kits. The two young cats were nearly old enough to be apprenticed, but they were small for their age thanks to the sickness they’d suffered along with their Clan.

“We want to show you something!” Rowankit announced, shoving his brother away and leaping to his paws.

“We do?” From the confused look Cedarkit shot him, clearly he had not been consulted on this.

Rowankit nudged him. “Yeah!”

She purred. “What do you want to show me?”

“Follow us!” Rowankit scampered off before she could react, Cedarkit at his heels. The two kits skidded to a stop near a space in front a fallen log. “Here it is!”

Confusion filled Stripestalk. “Um, what am I looking at?” she asked.

Cedarkit stared at her. “Don’t you know the stories behind the warrior code?”

“I do know the stories, yes,” she meowed. One of those stories was coming to her now. She felt a sneaking suspicion.

“You know how one of the rules is all about appointing deputies before moonhigh that first night?” Rowankit prompted.

She narrowed her eyes. “ShadowClan first came up with that rule,” she remembered. The two kits nodded excitedly, waiting for her to go on. “Their leader had died from sickness, and the medicine cat refused to let his deputy, who was also sick, travel to the Moonstone or even to name a new deputy because she was in such bad shape. Unfortunately, she died that night, leaving ShadowClan with neither a leader nor a deputy.” She stopped speaking. The next part of the story wasn’t particularly kit-friendly.

Apparently, however, these two kits did know the rest of the story, and Rowankit grimly continued the legend. “Then, when the medicine cat told the rest of ShadowClan what had happened, two warriors were suggested for leader, but they didn’t like each other and they fought, killing each other in the process.”

“Yes…” Stripestalk felt very uneasy that these young cats knew this story. Why did they want to talk about this?

“This is the place they fought,” Cedarkit explained. “ShadowClan has kept it sacred ever since then, planting flowers after that next leader, Flowerstar, around this space to remind us what happens when we fight each other. Flowerstar even made a rule that no ShadowClan cats can fight in this camp, and no warrior may be executed, as long as they get to this circle.”

Stripestalk looked around the area, noticing how bare it looked. “Did you bring me here to remember the story or to ask for help putting flowers here.”

The kits nodded eagerly. “According to Darkflower, Brokenstar ripped up the flowers immediately after he became leader. Things have been so crazy around here since then that no cat has had a chance to replace the flowers,” Rowankit said mournfully.

“Please will you help us?” Cedarkit begged, his eyes wide and pleading.

She nodded. “Of course I’ll help you. We’re going to put the most flowers here ever, and ShadowClan will be so surprised.”

“Yay!” The kits dashed off, and Stripestalk purred. Once this was over, she and Dustpelt would become proper mates, and they would have kits of their own. She couldn’t wait for that to happen.

*  *  *  *  *

“Why exactly did you leave ThunderClan?” meowed Applefur. The mottled brown she-cat was lying in a patch of sunlight, lazily flicking her tail.

Tigerclaw studied her, noticing the gleam of curiosity in her pale green gaze. He had just returned to the ShadowClan camp with another successful hunting patrol. The warrior Russetfur had impressed him in particular—she had been raised in Twolegplace with Boulder, but she was as sharp and lethal as a forestborn cat when it came to chasing prey. Around him, ShadowClan cats ate peacefully, enjoying the feel of sun on their patchy coats. All except Nightstar, who was too sick to come out of his den; Tigerclaw could hear him coughing behind the screen of brambles.

Stripestalk sitting next to Darkflower and the queen’s kits. While he’d been hunting with the patrol, she’d offered to watch the kits for their mother. He’d agreed in hopes that she would bond enough with the kits for one of them to request her as a mentor.

Every cat had been surprised and delighted when they’d come back to find a section of the camp filled with white flowers. Apparently, it had some sort of special meaning to the ShadowClan cats, and they’d spend several minutes thanking the kits, and Stripestalk, for what they’d done. He didn’t understand it, but he’d welcome any praise his cats could get.

He traced a line in the dust with one long claw. “You’ll hear enough rumors about me to make up your own stories,” he meowed.

Applefur blinked and let her cheek rest on the ground. “That’s why I’m asking you for the truth.”

Tigerclaw stood up and surveyed the clearing. “I cannot be loyal to a Clan that

listens to a kittypet over its deputy. I still believe ın the warrior code, even if my former Clanmates don’t.”

“Are you talking about Fireheart?” asked Ratscar, a young warrior with the claw mark that had given him his warrior name standing out against his dark brown fur.

Tigerclaw curled his lip. “If you don’t want another stripe in your pelt, you won’t mention his name around here,” he growled. He nodded to Blackfoot, who was talking to Fernshade. “Come, it’s time we left.”

A dark gray tom lifted his head from a pigeon he was sharing with the other elders. “Do you have to leave already?” he called. “The sun won’t set for a while. I was going to tell you about the time I found a badger stuck in the marshes.”

Tigerclaw made himself look disappointed. “Next time, Ashfur, I’d love to hear that tale. My friends and I have imposed ourselves on your Clan for long enough today.” With a flick of his tail, he gathered his companions around him.

“You’ll come back tomorrow, won’t you?” mewed Runningnose, poking his head out of Nightstar’s den. “I... I thought you might arrange the hunting patrols for me. I need to look for more herbs across the border.”

Tigerclaw tipped his head on one side. “If you wish, Runningnose. We’ll be here soon after dawn.” He padded out of the camp, letting his companions call their farewells over their shoulders.

They are beginning to need you like the forest needs rain, whispered the voice in his head. Good work, Tigerclaw.

Chapter Text

The five cats looked excited and proud to have been chosen for Tigerclaw’s hunting patrol. Russetfur’s lean muscles strained beneath her fox-colored fur as if she was already picturing her first pounce, while Ratscar was flexing his claws, checking them for sharpness. Clawface looked as composed as ever, but his ears were pricked and the tip of his tail twitched. Beside him stood Whitethroat, a black-and-white tom who was small for his age but seemed quick and keen. Tigerclaw wanted to see just how fast he could move. Last was Stripestalk, who sat quietly, waiting for his orders.

“I thought we’d hunt something other than ShadowClan prey today,” Tigerclaw announced.

Russetfur tipped her head to one side. “What else is there?”

“Perhaps prey from somewhere else?” mewed Stripestalk, her eyes beginning to gleam.

Tigerclaw nodded. “Lets try ThunderClan,” he suggested, watching each warrior closely.

Clawface nodded slightly. “It would be risky, but at least we know for certain it wouldn’t be tainted.”

Russetfur and Ratscar braced their shoulders and narrowed their eyes, but Whitethroat took a step back.

“Th . . . ThunderClan?” he stammered. “Really? But that would be stealing!”

Tigerclaw blinked. “Do you have a problem, Whitethroat?”

The little cat looked down at his paws. “I would rather not take prey from ThunderClan, that’s all,” he meowed.

Stripestalk crossed to stand beside Tigerclaw. “There are rumors,” she began quietly, “that Whitethroat and Littlecloud sought shelter in ThunderClan during the worst of the sickness.”

“Do you think that’s true?” Tigerclaw hissed.

Stripestalk studied the black-and-white warrior, who seemed to be trying to shrink inside his own pelt. “I can imagine two frightened cats trying to escape from a Clan that was dying around them,” she mewed.

“Then we need to make sure their loyalty to their own Clan hasn't faltered,” Tigerclaw stated grimly. Raising his voice, he meowed, “Whitethroat, this is not a hunt-if-you-want-to patrol. You will follow where I lead, is that clear?” He padded over to the warrior and let his claws slide out. “All other Clans are enemies to ShadowClan. If we want to take prey from them, there should be nothing to stop us. Do you understand?”

Looking terrified, the small cat nodded. Tigerclaw let his gaze drift around the clearing until it settled on Littlecloud. The gray tabby was shuffling through some herbs for Runningnose. Tigerclaw curled his lip. Now that Littlecloud was an apprentice medicine cat, It would be hard to test his loyalty in the form of hunting or battle. Tigerclaw would have to keep an eye on him.

“Let’s go,” he meowed, curling his tail over his back and leading the way out of the camp at a brisk trot. He swiveled his ears to check that four sets of paws were following, then ducked into the tangled, brittle grass where tiny paths would lead them to the tunnel that ran beneath the Thunderpath. Before he ducked into the narrow hole, Tigerclaw paused to take one last breath of ShadowClan scent. Was this where he belonged now? He hadn’t been into ThunderClan territory since . . . He pushed aside the memory of Bluestar ordering him to leave and ran into the tunnel. His paw steps echoed hollowly around him for a moment, then he burst into the thick green forest on the other side. Home! screeched his traitorous senses as countless smells of leaves and ferns and lush green growing things filled his nose. Woven among them were traces of tiny furred creatures, rustling through the undergrowth, scrambling over mossy tree trunks, leaving their invisible trails for hungry cats to follow.

“Wow!” breathed Ratscar. “This smells like good hunting!”

Tigerclaw nodded. “Stay close to the Thunderpath for now. There’s no point drawing attention to ourselves before we’ve had a chance to catch a decent haul.”

He plunged into the bracken, relishing the feel of dew-damp leaves brushing against his spine. Almost at once he heard the crunch of a mouse nibbling on a seed. Dropping into the hunter’s crouch, he crept forward, one paw step at a time, until his muzzle pushed aside a frond of bracken and revealed the small brown creature. Tigerclaw bunched his hindquarters beneath him, then sprang silently past the frond to land right on top of the mouse. It let out a faint squeak, soft and warm and delicious-smelling in Tigerclaw’s paws. He swallowed the water that had surged into his mouth and buried his prey quickly.

Behind him, the ShadowClan cats were staring open-mouthed.

“That was fast!” Russetfur commented.

Stripestalk dropped down a tree, a massive squirrel in her jaws. The ShadowClan warriors stood still in disbelief.

Tigerclaw felt a surge of pride. This was his territory now; he knew every hunting trick his ancestors had ever thought up. He shrugged as if it was no big deal and shouldered his way past an elder bush, drooping with heavy white flowers. The scent tickled his nose and almost made him sneeze, but he stopped when he heard a soft crackle on the other side of the bush. Peering through, Tigerclaw spotted three light brown shapes slipping between a pair of tall ash trees, along a trail that led to the border. A ThunderClan patrol! He squinted, identifying Mousefur, Runningwind, and Thornclaw. A memory flashed into Tigerclaw’s mind of those three cats sneering at him as he padded from the ThunderClan camp for the last time. Each one had treated him no better than a captured prisoner, battered and defeated by their precious kittypet. Tigerclaw felt a slow flame of rage burn in his belly.

This was too good an opportunity to miss. “ShadowClan cats!” he yowled over his shoulder. “Attack!”

Tigerclaw exploded through the bush and launched himself onto Runningwind’s narrow brown back. The warrior dropped beneath him like a stone. Tigerclaw prepared to let his talons sink into Runningwind’s throat, but before he could, claws hooked his pelt. He was dragged by the scruff and hurled hard to the ground.

“I don’t think so!” Lionblaze hissed in his ear, pinning him down.

Behind him he heard Mousefur and Thornclaw breaking away from their attackers and racing away, their paw steps rapidly fading in the direction of the camp. “Cowards!” Tigerclaw spat. Glaring up at Lionblaze, he growled, “You!”

Lionblaze nodded cheerfully. “Me!”

“Great StarClan!” gasped Russetfur. “You tried to kill him!”

“If you’re surprised by that,” Lionblaze muttered, “just wait for what he tries next.”

Tigerclaw squirmed underneath the golden warrior. “He should have reacted more quickly,” he mewed.

Whitethroat padded forward on trembling legs and lowered his nose to sniff Runningwind. “He’s not dead. And you shouldn’t have attacked him.”

“A good warrior is always ready for an attack,” growled Tigerclaw. “Now, who is going to help me fight this mouse-heart and find the others?”

Clawface scraped his paw along the ground. “For what reason? We have trespassed on their territory. You’ve killed a warrior! We don’t want to drag our Clanmates into a battle with ThunderClan. We are not yet strong enough for that!”

Tigerclaw let his hackles rise, but Lionblaze shoved him further down. “There is always a reason to attack another Clan! More territory, better prey, the chance to prove how strong you are!”

“But we’re not strong,” Ratscar protested. “And we don’t want to take over ThunderClan’s territory or hunt their prey.”

“Fighting them now is how you make them think you’re strong,” Stripestalk advised.

In the distance, they heard cats approaching fast, crashing through undergrowth, not caring how much prey they scared away. Clawface stepped forward. “Tigerclaw, we came here to hunt, not to fight. This is not a battle we can win. Not yet.”

Russetfur shifted her paws. “We need to get out of here!”

Tigerclaw forced the fur along his spine to lie flat. Make them think it’ your decision to retreat, not theirs, warned the voice in his head. Otherwise this could be the dumbest thing you ’ve ever done. “Fine. This warrior’—he glared Runningwind’s unconscious body and it shuddered like a leaf in the wind—“will be a clear enough message that ShadowClan is growing powerful again.” He flicked his tail in the moment before Clawface, Russetfur, and Ratscar plunged into the elder bush and raced back to the Thunderpath. I gave you the signal to retreat! Remember that! He heard Stripestalk climb another tree, waiting. At least she hasn’t abandoned me.

Whitethroat stayed where he was, his muzzle buried in the unconscious warrior’s fur. “Are you coming?” Tigerclaw snarled. Whitethroat didn’t move. “Waiting for your ThunderClan friends to arrive, are you?” Tigerclaw spat. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. Know this, Whitethroat. You won’t be welcome in ShadowClan again, I promise.” He shoved against Lionblaze’s grip. “Let me up. Now!”

He could practically see Lionblaze’s smirk as the ThunderClan warrior purred, “I don’t think so.”

“Its this way!” Mousefur screeched from the other side of a clump of bracken. “Hurry!”

Tigerclaw lifted his head and sniffed. Beneath the acrid tang of the Thunderpath, he detected Fireheart, Whitestorm, and Nighthunter, closing in on him fast. Much as he longed to stay and watch them fuss over Runningwind, he knew he couldn’t take them all on. He wriggled, trying to throw his attacker off, but Lionblaze held him down, unphased. Fireheart pounded into the clearing beneath the ash trees.

Whitethroat had managed to rouse Runningwind by this point, trying to help him to his paws. “He’s hurt!” he wailed to the incoming ThunderClan cats.

Suddenly, Lionblaze released Tigerclaw, and pelted away. “Oh no!” he heard the golden tom whisper.

Tigerclaw burst out from the bush and tore along the trail through the bracken. Brittle fronds whipped his pelt and stung his eyes. He stopped, flanks heaving, on the edge of the Thunderpath. Suddenly, to Tigerclaw’s astonishment, Whitethroat appeared a little way off, struggling through the brambles. He was wide-eyed and panting, and blood smeared his cheek.

Is he leading an attack on ShadowClan? Tigerclaw wondered, bracing himself to run and warn the others. Traitor!

Fireheart scrambled out behind Whitethroat, and the black-and-white warrior whipped his head around to stare at the ginger cat.

Bring whoever you want! I will kill them all! Tigerclaw vowed.

Without stopping to speak to Fireheart, Whitethroat flung himself onto the Thunderpath. Tigerclaw took a step back as a monster blasted past, flinging grit and foul smoke into his face. When the air stopped whirling, he saw Fireheart staring in horror at a monster that had suddenly stopped in front two shapes in the middle of the Thunderpath. Whitethroat was crouched to one side of the monster, but another cat lay still. The monster hit Lionblaze! Tigerclaw narrowed his eyes. Will ThunderClan still attack?

On the unforgiving black stone, Lionblaze stirred. Fireheart ran over to the two cats. He crouched down and seemed to be speaking to Whitethroat, but his words were drowned by another monster roaring past. By the time Tigerclaw could see Fireheart again, he was standing up. Whitethroat was looking down at Lionblaze. Tigerclaw felt his fur prick. Fireheart was staring straight at him.

“Is chasing puny cats to their deaths the best you can do to defend your territory?” Tigerclaw yowled.

In answer, Fireheart muttered something and then hurtled toward him, narrowly missing two monsters, and launched himself at Tigerclaw. Taken by surprise, Tigerclaw staggered backward, feeling the scents of ThunderClan rise up around him from the thick grass. Fireheart’s paws pummeled his ribs, but Tigerclaw wrenched himself free and reared up, flinging the ginger cat onto the ground. Tigerclaw let his full weight crash down on him, sinking his claws into the fur around Fireheart’s throat. Fury burned inside him.

“Are you listening, kittypet?” he hissed. “I will kill you, and all your warriors, one by one.”

Suddenly there was a roar of thundering paws, and a voice meowed in Tigerclaw’s ear, “Did you think we would let you fight alone?”

He turned and looked into Stripestalk’s hungry gaze. “No, my kin,” mewed Tigerclaw. “I knew you would come.” She must have run hard to get back to the ShadowClan camp, and she had brought nearly every cat that wasn’t sick with her— including Russetfur and Ratscar, Tigerclaw noticed. As the ShadowClan cats hurtled across the Thunderpath, Mousefur, Whitestorm, and Nighthunter burst out of the undergrowth. They fought bravely, but the ThunderClan warriors were sorely outnumbered. Even though Fireheart had managed to wriggle free from Tigerclaw, this wasn’t a battle that ShadowClan would lose.

Mowgli rushed forward and sliced at Fireheart’s hind legs with his claws. Fireheart stumbled and Tigerclaw reared over him, bracing himself to deliver the deathblow. Mowgli’s eyes glittered in triumph. There was a searing pain in Tigerclaw’s belly and he looked down, baffled. A broad gray tabby warrior had lunged into Tigerclaw’s exposed stomach, tearing at the newly healed wound. Graystripe! What is he doing here? He lives in RiverClan!

The attack knocked him backwards, and another cat grabbed him. “Hello, Tigerclaw,” his former apprentice greeted him sharply, and he felt a searing pain in his back.

Tigerclaw fell onto his paws and looked around. His cats were fighting more than the three ThunderClan warriors now. It looked like a whole RiverClan patrol had come to Fireheart’s rescue, and now Healer was here as well, fighting beside the younger kittypet. Always relying on others for help! Tigerclaw spat. He braced himself as Fireheart, Graystripe, and Ravenpaw tackled him side by side. Tigerclaw was forced back toward the Thunderpath, then his paw got tangled up in a bramble and he fell heavily onto the ground. He looked around for Mowgli or Stripestalk, but the young rogue was wrestling with fish-scented cats. Clawface and Russetfur had retreated to the edge of the Thunderpath, flanks heaving and covered in scratches. Stripestalk was wrestling with Nighthunter, her own mother dealing her wounds that made even Tigerclaw flinch.

Fireheart glanced up to look at the ShadowClan warriors who were leaving, and Tigerclaw felt the ginger cat’s weight shift on his shoulders. He wrenched himself free, yanking his tail painfully from Ravenpaw’s teeth and raced for the Thunderpath. He heard the other ShadowClan cats fall in behind him, but he didn’t slow down until they were all deep inside the pine trees. He limped to a halt beside a patch of brambles, his belly burning with pain and his muzzle stinging from scratches. Around him, the other cats slumped onto the ground and began licking their wounds.

Where is Stripestalk? His kin hadn’t followed them in their flight. Did Nighthunter kill her?

A thin voice whined in Tigerclaw’s ear: You ran! You should have stayed and fought! Never start a battle that you cannot finish, you fool.

Just then, he heard a sharp gasp of pain, and Whitethroat and Stripestalk emerged from the trees. Whitethroat was uninjured, having not fought in the battle, but Stripestalk was bleeding from deep claw marks down her sides. Almost all the fur was missing from one shoulder.

“The ThunderClan cats were going to take me prisoner!” Stripestalk groaned. “Whitethroat distracted Nighthunter long enough for me to get free, and then he helped me get back here.”

Tigerclaw lifted his head. “We must let the rest of ShadowClan know that we were attacked without provocation,” he ordered. He caught Clawface’s eye and waited for the brown tom to nod. “Tragically, Stripestalk nearly gave her life trying to save us Clanmates from ThunderClan’s savagery. She injured at the paws of her own mother, trying to give the rest of us time to reach the safety of our own territory.”

Stripestalk didn’t say anything, but it didn’t matter. She looked utterly exhausted, and her injuries would tell the story enough on their own.

Flintfang snarled, “No warrior tries to kill one of my Clanmates without answering to me. Let me go back to ThunderClan now and avenge Stripestalk’s sacrifice!”

Tigerclaw let his tail rest on Flintfang’s shoulder. “Have patience, my friend. Those RiverClan cats might be waiting for us still. Wait until the ThunderClan warriors have to defend themselves alone, and then we will destroy them without losing a single drop of our own blood.”

“Stripestalk will not be injured in vain!” cried Russetfur, and her Clanmates joined in with a wail of anger.

“ThunderClan got lucky today, that’s all,” Tigerclaw meowed when they fell silent. “This is not a battle that has been lost. Merely one that has been put off for a while.” He met Stripestalk’s gaze. The black-and-white she-cat seemed to understand what Tigerclaw was saying. What happened today would be reported to the rest of ShadowClan as a moment of tragedy for Whitethroat and a cause for revenge on ThunderClan when they had their chance. Fireheart’s days of leading his band of kittypet-lovers would soon be over.

*  *  *  *  *

Stripestalk couldn’t suppress a moan as Runningnose pressed a herb she didn’t recognize to her injuries.

“I know it hurts,” the medicine cat murmured sympathetically. “Just try to take deep breaths. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

Littlecloud appeared with some poppy seeds, which he dabbed on the ground in front of her. “I can’t believe you fought an entire patrol of ThunderClan and RiverClan cats by yourself to help us!”

She winced. “I did what was necessary to let the Clan escape. Thankfully, Whitethroat had enough courage to stay behind and help me escape too.”

As if her words had summoned him, Whitethroat ducked into the den, his gaze full of guilt and regret and gratitude. “Can I talk to you?” he asked quietly. She nodded.

At least Tigerclaw wasn’t still in camp. He taken most of his cats back to their den outside of ShadowClan, but he’d ordered Snag to stay behind with Stripestalk, much to her dismay. She’d much rather have had Clawface or Blackfoot here, but Tigerclaw had disagreed, which meant Tigerclaw had gotten his way.

“Not yet,” Runningnose ordered. “You need to eat those poppy seeds. Now that we’ve treated your injuries, the best thing for you to do is rest.”

“Okay,” she meowed, licking up the seeds quickly. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to sleep without them. The memory of Nighthunter’s fury was burned into her mind, and the wounds her mother had inflicted still seared with pain.

“Well done,” he purred gently. “Littlecloud and I will leave you to talk, which will probably be brief. The poppy seeds will take hold soon.”

“Thank you.” The medicine cat nodded, leading his apprentice out of the den.

Whitethroat settled in front of her. “I wanted to thank you for praising me in front of Tigerclaw. I was worried he’d try to drive me away.”

“You saved me; it was the least I could do in return.” She didn’t want to discuss that right now. There were more pressing things to say. “How did you know?” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she asked.

He nodded in understanding and began to whisper as well. “Littlecloud and I didn’t run away from ShadowClan, we were sent to ThunderClan to get help. Scorchfur and Redwillow already knew that Cinderpelt would help us even if the rest of the Clan didn’t want to help us themselves.”

“So you found out while you were on ThunderClan territory?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Littlecloud and I overheard you right before we came back to ShadowClan.”

The poppy seeds were starting to take effect, but she still had enough awareness to worry about having another cat know what she was doing.

Whitethroat must have guessed what she was thinking, because hurried to reassure her. “Neither of us are going to tell anyone.”

“I hope that’s true.” If she got caught, Tigerclaw would almost definitely kill her. She wasn’t afraid to die for her Clan, but she would have a much harder time acting as a spy if she was dead.

“I promise that both of us are going to help you,” he meowed. “Littlecloud has already suggested taking messages from you and passing them on to Cinderpelt and Yellowfang at the medicine cat gatherings.

“They haven’t done many of those lately,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “It’s better than you sneaking around ShadowClan, ThunderClan, and no-Clan’s-land to get information to your Clanmates.”

Her eyelids drooped, and she started feeling very warm. The pain from her injuries faded. “If you say so.”

She felt his muzzle rest on her forehead for the briefest of moments. “Get some sleep,” he told her.

Yawning, she closed her eyes, wrapping her tail around herself. His pawsteps sounded as he left the medicine cats’ den. Just a few heartbeats later, she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Gray, damp ferns brushed against Tigerclaw’s pelt as he walked through the forest. Above him, the sky was pitchblack, without the faintest glimmer of moon or stars. Yet somehow there was just enough light for him to make out the trunks of trees looming toward him and the trace of a path over the slimy ground. The air smelled rotten, like fungus or forgotten fresh-kill. The leaves above Tigerclaw whispered even though there was no wind, and a greasy mist seemed to ooze up from the soil and cling to the on his belly. Where am I? Tigerclaw wondered. Is this StarClan?

“No, this is the Dark Forest,” came a meow from behind him.

Tigerclaw froze. He knew that voice! It was the one that talked to him inside his head. Pelt standing on end, he slowly turned around.

A broad-faced she-cat stood among the ferns, her tortoiseshell-and-white fur patched and scarred from long-past battles. Her amber eyes gleamed like tiny gold moons; they seemed much brighter than the rest of the she-cat, and Tigerclaw was uncomfortably aware that he could see the leaves and ground on the other side of her.

“Welcome to the Place of No Stars, Tigerclaw,” the she-cat meowed.

“This isn’t StarClan, then?”

“Tchah!” The old cat spat. “Why would you want to go to StarClan? That place is full of weak-willed cowards who clung to the warrior code like ants to a leaf in a puddle. You will find much better company in the cats here, Tigerclaw.”

Tigerclaw shifted his paws. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

The she-cat purred; it sounded like two dead branches sliding together. “I have been watching you for a long time.” She padded forward and stretched out her head to sniff his flank. Tigerclaw tried not to flinch at the stench that came from her breath. “ShadowClan needs a fearless and powerful leader,” the old cat murmured. “You know you can give them everything they want, Tigerclaw. And after that... we will be waiting.”

She turned and started to walk away. “Stop!” cried Tigerclaw. “What do you mean, you'll be waiting? I don’t even know who you are!”

The she-cat paused and looked back at him. “My name is Mapleshade,” she meowed. “I have walked beside you from the day you were born, guiding your paw steps, laying out your destiny before you. For now, you don’t need to know anything else. Much, much more lies ahead of us, Tigerclaw. Be patient, and you will find out everything. I will send another cat to help you. He will ensure the trust ShadowClan has placed in you is complete.”

“Wait!” Tigerclaw tried to run after her, but the ferns tangled around his legs, and Mapleshade vanished into the undergrowth. With a start, he woke up, his fur still damp and carrying the scent of fungus and dying things.

“Ewww!” coughed Stumpytail, scrambling to the other side of the nest. “Did you roll in something bad yesterday?”

Tigerclaw stalked out of the den, ducking under the fallen trunk. “Don’t be ridiculous!” he hissed. “Come on, we need to get to the camp.”

Blackfoot bounded up beside him. “Has something happened? Did you have a dream from StarClan?”

Tigerclaw shook his head impatiently. “We just need to be there.”

He raced through the trees with Mapleshade’s words echoing in his ears: ShadowClan needs a fearless and powerful leader. You can give them everything they want. He heard the other cats panting and stumbling behind him, but he didn’t slow down until he reached the entrance to the camp. At once he heard a low, keening sound, many voices sharing one terrible note of grief.

Runningnose was standing in the middle of the clearing surrounded by cats huddled in misery. His tail dragged in the dirt, and he looked even older than he had the day before. He came to meet Tigerclaw and ushered him to the edge of the camp. “Nightstar died last night,” he murmured.

Tigerclaw lowered his head. “I am so sorry for your loss,” he mewed. “I hope he walks with StarClan now.”

Runningnose’s tail twitched. “Wherever Nightstar is, I hope he is at peace. The most important thing to do now is to keep the rest of my Clan safe.” He stared at Tigerclaw, his eyes huge and haunted. “My Clanmates are terrified of being leaderless. There is no deputy to take over from Nightstar, and StarClan has sent us no sign of what should happen next. How can I blame these cats if they feel that their ancestors have abandoned them?” His voice rose in a wail of horror. “What if we never recover from what Brokenstar did to us? The wounds run so deep, and nothing I can do will heal them.”

Tigerclaw let his tail rest on the old cat’s shoulder. “You must be strong,” he urged. “Without a leader, your Clanmates will look to you. StarClan hasn’t given up on ShadowClan; you mustn’t let yourself think that.” He hoped Runningnose took his quivering muscles as a sign of grief rather than of the excitement that was building inside him. This is your moment! Mapleshade hissed. Tread carefully. You are stepping onto the thinnest ice, and you must not fall through.

Tigerclaw squared his shoulders, as if he had reached a decision. “Runningnose, you must lead your Clan until StarClan makes its wishes known. And until that time, my cats and I will do everything we can to help you. I know your Clanmates have been doubly wounded, by Brokenstar and by the sickness from the rats. If you let me, I will help you heal them.”

Runningnose sniffed. “Thank you, Tigerclaw,” he mewed. “I knew I could rely on you.” He limped across the clearing to the lichen-covered rock and hauled himself onto it. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the rock!”

The earthen space began to fill with somber-eyed cats, swirling together like leaves in a stream. Tigerclaw saw Stumpytail go to sit beside Dawncloud, while Clawface laid the tip of his tail on Rowanberry’s back to guide her to an empty place.

“What did you say to Runningnose?” whispered Snag in Tigerclaw’s ear, having left his place guarding the medicine den and Stripestalk.

“That he and his Clanmates will have our utmost support until StarClan reveals their new leader.”

There was a flicker of surprise in Snag’s eyes. “That old cat, and this weak Clan, could need a great deal of support,” he commented.

Tigerclaw nodded. “Indeed. And we will be repaid for it, don’t worry.”

“Good,” mewed Snag.

“Clanmates!” Runningnose began from on top of the rock. “Shortly the elders will bring Nightstar’s body out from his den and we can begin our vigil. As we have no deputy to take his place, I will lead you until StarClan makes its wishes known. Even as we mourn Nightstar, life must continue. The worst of the sickness has passed, and we must make ourselves strong once more. Hunting and border patrols will be sent out as normal, and battle training will begin again.”

He was interrupted by a tumult of voices.

“We have only just gotten over the sickness! We need more time to recover!”

“How can we hunt, patrol the borders, and train our apprentices?”

“We want to serve our Clan, Runningnose, but you’re asking too much!”

Runningnose’s eyes clouded with confusion, and he took a pace back from the edge of the rock.

Tigerclaw raised his head. “With your permission, cats of ShadowClan, I can help you. My cats and I have kept your fresh-kill pile well stocked for the past moon. Now you are strong enough to hunt for yourselves, so why not let us help with your border patrols, and take over your battle training?” He lowered his eyes and scraped at the ground with one forepaw. “If you wish, that is.” Don't overdo the humility, Tigerclaw, warned Mapleshade. It’s not terribly convincing.

Runningnose stepped forward again, blinking in gratitude. “Tigerclaw, we will take all the help we can get,” he meowed.

“Wait,” called Deerfoot. “ShadowClan has always survived on its own. Why should we let outsiders do everything for us now?”

Tigerclaw met Deerfoot’s gaze. “That is not what I am proposing,” he mewed. “We merely want to work alongside you, give you time to recover your full strength now that the danger of the sickness has gone.” He looked around. “Cats of ShadowClan, never forget that you are surrounded by enemies who will attack the moment they think you have any trace of weakness. You were lucky to be left alone while the sickness was here. Can you keep it a secret forever? It only takes one sharp-eyed cat at a Gathering, one rumor across the border, for other Clans to put your strength to the test. ShadowClan has always been the most feared Clan in the forest. I promise I will not let that change!”

The pine trees shivered as the clearing erupted in yowls of triumph.

“He’s right! We cant show weakness to the other Clans!”

“I’ll train with you, Tigerclaw! Teach me everything you know!”

“ShadowClan will be feared once more!”

Tigerclaw closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the cheers. Remember this moment, Mapleshade urged. This is what power feels like.

*  *  *  *  *

Tigerclaw sat in the shadows, waiting. A few heartbeats later, Snag crept over to join him.

“How did your missions go?” he asked the ginger rogue.

Snag shrugged. “They were incredibly boring,” he grumbled. “Runningnose kept Stripestalk in the den the whole time, and the cats who went to talk to her weren’t all that captivating. Meanwhile, Nightstar showed no signs of getting better, and the only interesting thing he did was die three times in a row last night.”

Tigerclaw blinked. “Nightstar died three times in a row?”

“Well, yeah,” Snag meowed. “I would have done it myself, but there didn’t seem to be much purpose.”

“If you saw him die three times, then that means he somehow died six times before this,” Tigerclaw meowed thoughtfully. “Considering he wasn’t leader for very long, that is very concerning.”

Snag rolled his eyes. “Does that really matter now? This is your chance to become leader here! No other cat holds nearly as strong of a claim as you do.”

“Patience, Snag,” Tigerclaw ordered. “We must not move too quickly. ShadowClan must not suspect we have such ambitions here. They must think that we are harmless warriors who just want to make things better.”

*  *  *  *  *

The next day, Runningnose appeared at his side. “Please organize the battle training as you see fit.” He gave a slightly embarrassed purr. “Not my area of expertise at all!”

“No problem,” Tigerclaw meowed. He flicked his tail. “Blackfoot, Snag, Mowgli? I want each of you to take a warrior and an apprentice. Go through the basic attack and defense moves, then we'll join up for a mock battle later on. Okay?”

His companions nodded. Stumpytail pricked his ears. “What about me?”

“You, Clawface, and Tangleburr can lead hunting patrols,” Tigerclaw ordered.

There was a faint cough behind him. “We can arrange our own hunting patrols, Tigerclaw,” Deerfoot meowed. His voice was mild but his eyes gleamed with an unspoken challenge.

Tigerclaw bowed his head. “Of course, Deerfoot. I only meant that my cats can help you with restocking the fresh-kill pile.”

Deerfoot blinked. Tigerclaw sensed that the warrior was going to question him at every turn, and he felt his claws slide out to grip the soil. Be patient, whispered Mapleshade. There will be time to deal with him later. Turning away, Tigerclaw nodded to Flintfang and Tallpoppy. “You two come with me.”

Tallpoppy twitched her ears. “We don’t need battle training,” she pointed out. “We have been warriors longer than you, Tigerclaw!” She sounded amused, as if she was speaking to an impudent kit.

Tigerclaw let the fur rise along his spine. “Runningnose said that I was in charge of battle training,” he meowed quietly. “I can’t do that unless I know the abilities of every warrior in the Clan.”

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.”

“Pm 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 wont 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 freshkill 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 freshkill 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. Scorchfur and Redwillow nodded to the newest permanent members, and Deerfoot smiled warmly at Blackfoot. Snag, Jet, 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. And your kits are ready to become apprentices now.”

Runningnose nodded. “Of course, Tigerclaw. Please, go ahead and choose their names and mentors.” The kits, who were sitting with Stripestalk, exchanged excited looks.

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,Jet, come here, please.” The massive ginger tom, sleek brown cat, and black tom padded forward until they were standing below him. Tigerclaw took a deep breath. “Snag, Mowgli, Jet, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your lives?”

The three 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. “Finally, Jet, from this moment forward, you will be known as Jetstalker. “Clanmates, I give you Jaggedtooth, Nightwhisper, and Jetstalker!”

“Jaggedtooth! Nightwhisper! Jetstalker!” 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.

“Next, I believe we have some apprentices to make,” Tigerclaw rumbled. “Cedarkit, Rowankit, you have reached your sixth moon, and in keeping with the warrior code, you will now be known as Cedarpaw and Rowanpaw.” Looking around at the gathered warriors, he thought quickly. “Russetfur, you will be mentor to Cedarpaw. You have shown yourself to be capable and quick, and I hope you will pass these on to your new apprentice.”

As the pair greeted each other, Tigerclaw turned to the other young cat. He had no doubt in his mind who he was going to choose as mentor. There was only one cat who had proven just how worthy she was of this honor. “Stripestalk,” he announced. “You will be mentor to Rowanpaw. You have proven just how strong, loyal, and tireless you are, and I know that you will make Rowanpaw a worthy warrior as you train him.”

Stripestalk looked absolutely stunned. Clearly she’d never expected this, and he could honestly say that it was her unconditional support, without expecting reward, that made her such a useful warrior.

Rowanpaw was absolutely delighted by Tigerclaw’s decision and cheered, “Yay! Stripestalk’s the best! Thank you, Tigerclaw!”

Tigerclaw waited for the two to touch noses before he meowed, “You’re very welcome, Rowanpaw, and lucky to have a mentor like Stripestalk. She has earned this after all of the sacrifices she’s made.”

But there was no more time for celebration. 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.

*  *  *  *  *

Stripestalk couldn’t believe what was happening. She had gone with Tigerclaw to spy on her uncle, but never expected him to make her a mentor. It wasn’t necessarily a bad, she supposed. Being given an apprentice meant that she was deeply trusted. And perhaps she could try to keep him from being too loyal to Tigerclaw, at least once he stopped being so grateful her uncle had made her his mentor.

The Clan was sitting vigil for their leader. As much as Stripestalk wanted to stay and honor him, this was something important she needed to tell Dustpelt. She couldn’t wait until the medicine cat gathering.

Slipping out of the camp, Stripestalk quickly made her way to the meeting place. It smelled faintly of Clawface, whom she’d sent to assure Dustpelt that she was recovering from her injuries.

When she ducked under the bushes, she realized immediately that Dustpelt hadn’t come this time. Nighthunter had.

“Where’s Dustpelt?” she demanded, not sure if she was ready to face her mother.

“Ashpaw really wanted to learn night hunting,” Nighthunter explained. “I offered to come meet you in his place.”

Stripestalk tried to act calm. “You didn’t have to do that. Lightfrost could have come.” At least she had some idea of how he would react.

Nighthunter wasn’t fooled by her mask. “I’m so sorry for attacking you like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Stripestalk meowed immediately. “You thought I was a traitor. It was the logical thing to do.”

“But it wasn’t the right thing to do,” Nighthunter pressed. “I was wrong in every way, and I’m sorry.”

Stripestalk winced. “You wouldn’t have hurt me if I’d actually been fighting back,” she pointed out.

“I know. I should have guessed the truth just from that.”

“Speaking of the truth,” Stripestalk announced, desperate to change the subject, “I have news.”

Nighthunter immediately pricked her ears. “What is it?”

“Nightstar is dead,” Stripestalk told her. “He died from the sickness. Runningnose invited the rest of us to join ShadowClan permanently.”

“Great StarClan!” Nighthunter gasped. “They actually fell for Tigerclaw’s act?”

“They were desperate.” Stripestalk felt the need to defend the cats she’d come to think of as friends. “They have no leader and no deputy and two overworked medicine cats. Bringing us in gives the Clan strength and numbers.”

Now she’d delivered her message. She turned to leave, reluctant to spend any more time here.

“Stripestalk,” Nighthunter’s voice was soft. Slowly, she turned to face her mother again. “I am so so proud of you. Thank you for doing this for us.”

“I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do,” Stripestalk meowed. “Tigerclaw needs to be stopped, and maybe I can turn the rest of the Clan against him.”

She already wasn’t alone. Littlecloud and Whitethroat were helping her, Clawface had taken messages for her when she was injured, and maybe she could convince the apprentices that Tigerclaw wasn’t to be trusted.

Chapter Text

“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 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. He wondered if Stripestalk was having the same luck with Marigoldpaw and Mintpaw, who seemed to have a deep aversion to any kind of fighting. It was a consequence of what Brokenstar had done to them when they were kits, and he hoped they would grow out of it before they became warriors.

“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.

He had spoken to Stripestalk about it privately, and to her credit, she had asked only about Bramblekit and Tawnykit. She’d been relieved when he told her they were both fine, but angry that it had been Fireheart who’d saved his son.

“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.”

Scorchfur’s voice sounded above the rest. “Don’t worry. ShadowClan will not have to worry about who their leader will be much longer.”

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 Stripestalk, who flicked him gently with her tail.

“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.

“Its 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.”

“Its 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: Stripestalk, who had followed him from their birth Clan even when no others would, Nightwhisper, Jetstalker, 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!

*  *  *  *  *

Stripestalk listened to cheering of the happy ShadowClan cats surrounding her. Beside her, Rowanpaw shouted his excitement to the stars. He doesn’t know who has just become his leader! she thought in horror. Her belly clenched as she watched Tigerclaw basking in the Clan’s admiration. She’d failed to stop this from happening. All she could do now was hope that she would be able to fix this.

Tigerclaw flicked his tail to quiet the Clan. Instantly silence fell. He’s going to appoint the new deputy, she guessed. “Cats of ShadowClan,” he began. “The trial we have all just come through has made it more clear than ever that there should always be an appointed deputy in case the leader is unable to perform their duties. Therefore, I say these words before StarClan that they may hear and approve my choice–”

“No!” Blackfoot’s voice rang out in the silence. Tigerclaw looked down at him. Did the warrior have any idea what he was doing interrupting the deputy ceremony? “Tigerclaw is not meant to be the leader of our Clan. He is a remorseless murderer who killed to gain power. That’s how he became deputy of ThunderClan. He killed Redtail!”

Oh no! Stripestalk looked at Tigerclaw to see him growing angry. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” the dark tabby protested. “Oakheart killed Redtail.”

“That’s a lie!” Blackfoot spat. “You killed Redtail to gain power, and when you were tired of being deputy, you plotted with Brokenstar to attack your own Clan. And let’s not forget the way you tried to kill Runningwind at the Thunderpath or how you’ve been forcing us all to train with claws unsheathed, just like our former tyrant leader!”

An anxious murmuring broke out among the cats. Tigerclaw curled his lip in a snarl. “Are you so certain you know the full story? Do you think I would bring destruction to ShadowClan? Why don’t you ask the newest time traveler?” He swung his massive head to one side and called, “Scratchflight!”

At his call, a brown tabby tom with a black paw and green eyes pushed his way out from his Clanmates. “Yes, Tigerclaw.”

“I want you to tell your Clanmates exactly what you told me, about the future.”

“Of course, Tigerclaw,” Scratchflight meowed. Stripestalk was grateful he wasn’t any closer to her. The new tom smelled disgusting, as if he’d been rolling around in Carrionplace for fun.

Scorchfur and Redwillow stared at Scratchflight. “Who are you?” Redwillow demanded.

Scratchflight smirked at them. “Don’t you recognize me?” he asked in a sickly sweet tone. “I suppose not. After all, ordinary warriors aren’t usually the ones blessed with seeing StarClan cats.”

This of course got everyone’s attention, and the ShadowClan cats studied him with interest.

“I apologize that no cat has told you about the future sooner,” Scratchflight mewed, in a deceptively apologetic voice. “But I can promise you that there is nothing to fear from Tigerstar’s leadership. He is not alive in my time, having sacrificed his lives one at a time, for all of the Clan. Those of us in StarClan watched as he made ShadowClan so strong, no Clan dares threaten them. The forest is happy and at peace, and every cat is full-fed even in leaf-bare. The Clans speak of him in legend, remembering his wisdom and courage, and every newborn kit grows up wanting one thing: to be the next Tigerstar.”

He’s lying. That much was clear from the dismay on Redwillow’s face, and the way that Scorchfur was tearing at the earth with his claws. Why didn’t you tell any cat the truth sooner? The time travelers wouldn’t stand a chance of convincing cats now, and Stripestalk wasn’t sure she did either. She was still going to try.

Apparently, so was Blackfoot. The white warrior was glaring back and forth between Tigerclaw and Scratchflight. “You’re both lying!” Blackfoot challenged. “There’s no way he’s from the future.”

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing!” Scratchflight protested. “I came here to promise ShadowClan a happy future, and you want me to lie about it. What would you rather here: that this forest was destroyed by Twolegs and the Clans now live in a new place with infinite problems and are still fighting each other for dominance?”

“All I want is the truth,” Blackfoot growled. “And the truth is that neither of you can be trusted.”

Scratchflight sighed. “Clearly, I won’t convince you with words. So maybe we should prove who’s right by combat.”

“What?” Blackfoot narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying you want to fight?”

“Of course,” Scratchflight purred. “That’s how the Clans have proven things for a long time when I’m from.”

Stripestalk froze. I have to stop this!

Tigerclaw cleared his throat. “Actually, Scratchflight, that wouldn’t be fair to Blackfoot. As a time travel, you have special immortality, which would prove to be a deciding advantage. Someone else should fight.”

Scratchflight dipped his head. “As you wish.”

The rest of the Clan began murmuring confusedly around Stripestalk. What did Tigerclaw think he was doing.

“I know the perfect cat for this challenge, one who has shown a loyalty to ShadowClan like no other.” He paused, letting his words sink in. Then he announced, “Stripestalk will fight him.”

Mixed emotions flooded Stripestalk at his words. While she didn’t want to fight Blackfoot, and she definitely didn’t want to hurt him, this would be her chance to ensure Tigerclaw never doubted her loyalty to him. How do I fight him without one of us getting hurt?

Something white caught her eye and she saw the flowers she’d gathered with Rowanpaw and Cedarpaw still lying there. They were still fresh, even though it had been some time.

That’s it! The flowers were a sacred reminder to ShadowClan, a reminder of what happened when their Clanmates fought each other. If I can get him over there, the Clan might stop this!

“I would be proud to fight,” Stripestalk growled. “ShadowClan needs loyal cats, not cowards who are afraid of what it means for their Clan to have a strong leader.”

Tigerclaw nodded approvingly. “Well said.” He looked at both cats, who were now alone in the main space of the clearing, and ordered, “Now fight!”

Immediately, Stripestalk hurled herself at Blackfoot. She crossed the space between them so quickly he was caught off guard and thrown back several fox-lengths. Pressing her advantage, she leaped at him again. He scrambled to his paws and tried to swipe at her, but she ducked under his claws, twisted around, braced herself against the ground, and launched him backwards with a powerful kick from both hindlegs.

He landed squarely in the middle of the flowers. Stripestalk advanced on him slowly, and breathed a sigh of relief only Blackfoot could see when Rowanpaw called out, “Wait! You can’t fight him now!” Stripestalk turned to look back at the other cats.

“What are you talking about?” Tigerclaw demanded, glaring at the apprentice. “They must fight.”

“Rowanpaw is right,” Marigoldpaw agreed. “No ShadowClan cat may fight inside the camp, and any cat who reaches those flowers is granted immunity from any retribution.”

Cats immediately began chiming in.

“The apprentices are right!”

“It’s a Clan tradition!”

“Let Blackfoot live!” The last one came from Deerfoot, and it quickly spread through the rest of ShadowClan. “Let Blackfoot live! Let Blackfoot live!”

Tigerclaw was absolutely furious. Stripestalk could see him scraping the rock with his claws, but even he wasn’t foolish enough to go against the wishes of the entire Clan. “Very well,” he agreed smoothly. “I will spare Blackfoot. I would hate for any cat to think I don’t respect ShadowClan tradition.”

“What will happen to Blackfoot now?” Stripestalk called out.

Before Tigerclaw could answer, Scorchfur interjected, “In our time, Blackfoot has dedicated his life to ensuring ShadowClan is strong and safe. We would be foolish not to honor him for this.”

“Of course,” Tigerclaw rumbled. “Blackfoot may stay in ShadowClan and work hard to make amends for his foolish challenge here tonight.”

“Blackfoot! Blackfoot! Blackfoot!” Several cats, including Deerfoot and Clawface called out the warrior’s name in relief.

Tigerclaw raised his tail for silence once again. “Thanks to Blackfoot’s intervention, I was unable to finish my ceremony. But I think you will all agree that there is one Clanmate who has shown the loyalty and ability to make tough decisions that ShadowClan. Because of these traits, Stripestalk will be the new deputy of ShadowClan.”

Chapter Text

Runningnose reached the dark, yawning hole below the jagged peaks and stepped aside. “After you, Tigerclaw,” he murmured.

Tigerclaw walked past the gray-muzzled medicine cat and stood at the mouth of the tunnel. Dank shadows that tasted of stone lapped at his paws. Above their heads, a sharp wind hurled itself against Highrocks, flattening the grass on the hillside and threatening to dash the few crows that challenged it back down to the ground. But Mothermouth was silent, waiting for cats to enter and have their lives changed beyond all measure.

Tigerclaw had been here before, as an apprentice in ThunderClan, and later with Bluestar and that kittypet. But this time was different. Now he came to claim his nine lives as the new leader of ShadowClan. He had arrived in the Clan after the death of their previous leader, Nightstar, who had left his cats confused, frightened, and still traumatized by Brokenstar’s bloody rule. If ever a Clan needed a strong leader, this was it. Tigerclaw bided his time, proved his value as a warrior and hunter, showed his adopted Clanmates that Bluestar had made him deputy of ThunderClan because she saw in him the skills of a future leader. The support of Blackfoot, Russetfur, and Boulder had been essential when it came to putting himself forward as Nightstar’s successor. After some tense discussion, the other cats were persuaded. And now, here Tigerclaw stood, on the brink of everything he had ever wished for. Leadership of a Clan. Authority over all his Clanmates. The power to wage war on his enemies. 

Sleep with one eye open, Fireheart. I am coming for you.

Behind him, Runningnose stirred. “Tigerclaw, the moon is rising,” he meowed.

Tigerclaw looked back at him, feeling his claws scrape against the stone. “StarClan will wait for me,” he growled. Of all the cats whose approval he had sought, Runningnose had proved the most difficult. Even now, Tigerstar wasn’t convinced of his loyalty. But medicine cats lived to serve their Clan, and Runningnose couldn’t oppose the wish of the majority. “StarClan might, but dawn will not,” Runningnose muttered. Tigerclaw let his front claws extend until they caught the moonlight. Runningnose blinked his rheumy eyes but stayed where he was. Tigerclaw snorted and turned back to the tunnel. He took a deep breath and walked into the shadows, letting the darkness wash over him like water until he was swallowed entirely. Now he was walking blind, using his whiskers to find the walls, setting each paw carefully on the cold, wet stone as the tunnel began to slope steeply down. He could hear Runningnose padding behind him, the medicine cat’s rasping breath echoing around the tiny space. Tigerclaw felt a flare of irritation. Who would trust a medicine cat who couldn’t cure his own sickness, anyway?

Suddenly the sound of his paw steps changed, the walls fell away from his whiskers on either side, and Tigerclaw knew he had reached the cave where the Moonstone stood. He walked forward more slowly until he felt his muzzle brush against the icy crystal. Runningnose moved closer, until Tigerclaw could feel his hot breath on his flanks.

“Lie down and touch the stone with your nose,” the medicine cat instructed.

I know what to do, mouse-brain! Tigerclaw gritted his teeth and sank to his belly, wincing at the feel of the hard, cold floor. He rested his muzzle against the Moonstone and, in the same instant, a shaft of moonlight sliced through the gap in the roof, turning the crystal to dazzling white light. Tigerclaw’s heart leaped. StarClan is here!

Runningnose settled himself beside Tigerclaw. The warrior tried not to recoil from the stench of old herbs on the medicine cat’s ungroomed pelt. “Don’t be alarmed,” Runningnose began, “if our ancestors do not come to you.”

Are you blind? The Moonstone is alight with them!

“When I brought Nightpelt here,” Runningnose went on, “things were . . . not as we expected. StarClan did not approve of him as our leader because Brokenstar was still alive. It was a very difficult moment. Even with some ancestors arguing on Nightpelt’s behalf, only three could resist the order to reject Nightpelt. Those three were the only ones to give Nightpelt lives.”

Tigerclaw resisted the urge to claw the ears of the foolish old cat. Everything was different this time. “But we know that Brokenstar is no longer alive,” he meowed. “And ShadowClan themselves have asked me to lead them. Will their ancestors deny the wish of their living Clanmates?”

Runningnose whispered something that might have been a prayer, then mewed out loud, “StarClan knows our destiny better than any of us.”

And that destiny is my leadership! Tigerclaw was in no mood to continue debating with the fretful medicine cat. He closed his eyes and felt himself being tugged gently into sleep. Almost at once a cool breeze stirred his fur, scented with pine needles and a mustier tang of marsh water. Tigerclaw blinked and looked around. He was standing at the edge of a forest thick with pines, lapped by a broad expanse of tussocky grass. “I’m . . . I’m in ShadowClan!” he gasped.

A cat stepped out of the trees. “Not exactly,” it purred. “This is our version of ShadowClan.”

Tigerclaw looked closer at the newcomer. He was a dark gray tom with a white belly and eyes the color of heather. His fur was shot through with starlight, and Tigerclaw could see the outline of tree trunks behind his misted flanks.

“I am Cedarstar,” meowed the StarClan cat. “Welcome.”

Tigerclaw let out a long breath, suddenly aware of the tension that had made his fur lift along his spine. StarClan welcomes me! “Are there others?” he asked. I need nine lives, not one!

Cedarstar gestured with his tail to the edge of the woodland. The shadows sparkled with light as, one by one, a long line of cats stepped forward and nodded to Tigerclaw. The warrior stood and stared. They have come!

A small, ginger she-cat padded forward until she was barely a mouse-length from Tigerclaw’s muzzle. He flinched when he realized he couldn’t feel her breath on his nose, then reminded himself that these cats no longer lived the way he did.

“We have waited a long time for you,” meowed the she-cat. “My name is Littlebird, and I died without being able to save my Clan from Brokenstar. Now my Clan can be strong again.”

Tigerclaw bowed his head. “If you will help me, then I will lead your Clan to greater victories than it has ever known before.”

“Victory isn’t everything,” Littlebird mewed lightly. “Sometimes peace brings greater rewards.”

Believe that if you wish. Once I am leader, I will use your former Clan to seek revenge on every cat who has ever wronged me.

Littlebird leaned forward and pressed her muzzle against Tigerstar’s head. She had to stretch on tiptoe to reach. “I give you a life for compassion,” she murmured. “Try to understand what is important to other cats, not just yourself, and let that guide your paws.”

In an instant, Tigerclaw’s mind whirled with countless images of cats in pain, joy-filled cats, cats wailing in terror or hissing with fury. He staggered, overwhelmed by the emotions that poured into him from all sides, and deafened by the noise inside his world.

“Be strong, Tigerclaw,” Littlebird whispered. “It takes more courage than you know to feel what other cats do.”

Tigerclaw straightened up. If I am the leader of my Clan, and my word is law, why should I concern myself with what my Clanmates think? My duty is to lead them; theirs is to follow.

“Thank you, Littlebird,” he meowed out loud. The ferns behind Littlebird stirred and a tiny shape slipped out. Not much bigger than a newborn kit, with a black-and-white pelt that glowed in the half-light, the cat trotted up to Tigerclaw and craned its neck to look up at him. “I am Badgerfang!” he squeaked.

Tigerclaw snorted. “Are you sure? You’re the smallest warrior I’ve ever seen!”

There was a flash of anger in the little cat’s eyes that belied his fragile size. “I died as Badgerpaw when I was four moons old. Brokenstar forced me and my littermates to fight in battles before we should even have become apprentices. But I fought bravely and gave my life to save my Clan. Because of that, my mentor, Flintfang, said I could choose my warrior name.” His eyes glinted fondly. “And once I got to StarClan, they told me I could grow up if I wanted to, but I didn’t. It seemed cooler to stay this size and have a warrior name, so I could confuse cats like you.”

Tigerclaw nodded. “Fine. So what life can you give me?”

Badgerfang blinked. “Be patient,” he warned. “Your lives will come as we wish to give them, not as you wish to receive them.” He took a step closer and stretched up until his muzzle brushed Tigerclaw’s chin. “I give you a life for training your young cats wisely. Train them when they are strong enough to survive their first battle, and encourage them to listen to many cats, including the elders, to learn the most from their Clanmates’ histories.”

Tigerclaw felt a rush of warmth flood through him, filled with the chattering voices of tiny kits. He recognized his own eagerness to leave the nursery and start training, and he curled his lip with amusement. Oh, I will train my young Clanmates, he vowed. They will soon know they belong to the most powerful Clan in the forest and deserve nothing but victory in every battle! At the same time, he felt angry once again that ShadowClan’s history and traditions had prevented him from killing Blackfoot for rebellion. I’ll have to deal with him another time.

Badgerfang trotted away, casting a shadow no bigger than Tigerclaw’s front paw, and another cat stood before him. Tigerclaw stared in disbelief at the tall, ginger cat who fathered him. “Pinestar!” he breathed.

The red-furred tom nodded. “Yes, although that is not the name I had when I died.”

Tigerclaw felt his claws unsheathe and sink into the soft earth. “Because you were a kittypet,” he snarled.

“That was my choice for my final life,” Pinestar agreed. “But I walk with our ancestors for tonight to give you a life for being aware of what goes on beyond Clan borders. There are good cats everywhere, Tigerclaw. Do not forget that. After all, it was another cat from Twolegplace who saved your sister all those moons ago.” He leaned forward and brushed Tigerclaw’s nose with his own.

A flurry of images flashed into Tigerclaw’s mind, of green fields, lazy swollen rivers, Twolegplaces made of hard red stone, crisscrossed with Thunderpaths and humming with the sound of monsters. He shook his head to clear it. “I will be loyal to my Clanmates above all others,” he growled.

Pinestar inclined his head. “The warrior code demands nothing less. But do not assume that every other cat is an enemy or unable to help you in some way.” He turned to leave, then looked back. “I am proud of you, my son,” he mewed. “When I left the forest, I thought I would never see you again. But here you are, leader of ShadowClan. Perhaps not the choice I would have made,” he added wryly, “but you have traveled a hard path to get here, and you deserve your reward.”

And I did it all without you, Tigerclaw hissed inside his mind. His pelt prickled at the thought that his father—the treacherous warrior-turned-kittypet—dared give him—loyal to the last, nothing but warrior blood running in his veins—one of his lives. I won’t mind losing that one in battle, he thought.

The next cat to face him was a small, pale gray she-cat that Tigerclaw didn’t recognize. As if reading his thoughts, she meowed, “You won’t know me, Tigerclaw. My name is Whitetail. I walked in these woods long ago, before you were even dreamed of. But if we had met before, would you have noticed me, I wonder?”

Surprised, Tigerclaw looked more closely at the she-cat. Her head only just reached his chest, and her pelt hung loosely on her bony frame. If he had encountered her in the midst of a battle, he would have flung her aside with a flick of his paw as if she was nothing more than a moth in his way.

Whitetail didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I give you a life for understanding that size isn’t everything. Strength does not always mean power, and you should respect your enemies, whatever they look like. Whether they be flame-colored toms or kit-sized rogues, any cat can be dangerous.” She touched her muzzle to his chest, and Tigerclaw felt a strange calm spread through him, cold and heavy like water on his fur. To his dismay, he started to shiver—not just from cold but from fear as well. What was he frightened of? He sank his claws deeper into the ground to hold himself still.

Whitetail looked up at him. “Beware the small cats,” she whispered, then turned and walked back into the shadows.

A long-legged, light brown tabby came next, introducing himself as Sedgestar, leader of ShadowClan when there were still five Clans in the forest. Five Clans? What does that mean? He was so old, Tigerclaw could clearly see the trees behind him through his misty outline. But his voice was strong and steady as he rested his muzzle on Tigerclaw’s head.

“I give you a life for pride in ShadowClan, knowing they can stand alone through any challenge. ShadowClan needs no allegiances, no help from other Clans when times are hard. Your cats will always find a way to survive if you give them a chance, Tigerclaw.”

This life made Tigerclaw feel as if he was growing from the inside, taller than a fox, broader than a badger, filled with the certainty that ShadowClan was the strongest of all. Whatever happened in the forest, ShadowClan would emerge victorious!

A ginger-and-white she-cat with gentle eyes took Sedgestar’s place. “I am Flowerstar,” she meowed. “Like you, I was not the deputy to the previous leader of ShadowClan. That leader, Brightwhisker, died on her first night of leadership, before she had a chance to receive her nine lives and before she could appoint a new deputy. After two of cats fought and killed each other for leadership, our medicine cat, Redscar, found a sign from StarClan— the stalk of an early-blooming snowdrop—that showed our ancestors wished for me to become the next leader.” She leaned closer and pressed her sweet-scented nose to Tigerclaw’s cheek.

“I give you a life for placing all your faith in StarClan,” she murmured. “Trust your warrior ancestors, let them guide you when all seems dark, and honor them with your loyalty for all your lives.”

Tigerclaw’s pelt lit up with starlight, and he tingled all the way to the tip of his tail. There was fierceness in this life, but also the warmth of a mother’s belly fur, all shot through with sparkling light.

Flowerstar stood for a few moments more with her face against Tigerclaw’s, until a soft cough from behind made her step aside. A reddish-brown tabby pushed his way forward, and Tigerclaw winced when he saw the jagged scar that stretched from the tabby’s ear down the line of his jaw.

“My name is Redscar,” mewed the tabby. He looked over his shoulder to check that Flowerstar had disappeared back into the trees. “I am the medicine cat who told Flowerstar that StarClan had chosen her as our leader. But you need to know something: I faked that sign. Our previous leader, Snowstar, told me I needed to make the choice, so I picked the snowdrop, severed the blossom, placed the stalk where I could find it in the middle of the camp and announced to everyone that our ancestors had spoken. We needed a leader, and I found them one. She had already shown her capabilities of guiding the Clan even though her sister was one of the cats who’d been killed.” His pale eyes looked hot and feverish as he shuffled forward to wedge his muzzle against Tigerclaw’s chin. “Listen to StarClan, but do not let that deafen you to your own senses. I give you a life for trusting your own instincts as well. StarClan will guide you, but only you, as leader, can steer the paws of your Clanmates.”

Tigerclaw nodded. At last, a life that makes sense! He felt a surge of confidence inside his chest, burning like fire and roaring like the wind. Only he knew what was truly right for ShadowClan! They were his cats now!

A dark tortoiseshell she-cat stepped up. Her eyes shone like yellow moons against the shadows behind. “I am Mossheart,” she announced. “I was a medicine cat long ago, at a time when cats died every day in needless battles against the other Clans. The forest ran with blood, and my herb stores went unused as cats died before I could do anything to help them. I joined together with the other medicine cats to create a new code, in which warriors do not have to kill their opponents to secure victory. What would become of the Clans if we let all our blood spill into the earth?” She touched Tigerclaw’s nose with his. “I give you a life for mercy, for knowing that victory can leave both cats standing. Your opponent may have been the lesser cat in this battle, but he deserves to live and have a chance to try again.”

What kind of victory is that, knowing you have spared your enemy for another attack? Tigerclaw braced himself against the tide of heat that swept into him, hating the softness that lapped at his fur, closing his mind to the images of bleeding, maimed warriors that flooded behind his eyes. If they lose, they deserve to die!

He opened his eyes and saw Mossheart looking at him. “Mercy brings strength, remember that,” she murmured. Tigerclaw felt a stab of alarm. Did the old cat know that this was a life Tigerclaw didn’t want?

Mossheart padded away and the cat that had been standing beside Tigerclaw all this time stepped forward. “You have only one more life to receive,” meowed Cedarstar. “Are you ready?”

Tigerclaw nodded. One more, and I will be the true leader of ShadowClan!

Cedarstar let out a sigh. “I should never have appointed Raggedstar as my deputy,” he mewed. “All this trouble goes back to that moment. He was too cruel to the cats who angered him and too determined to make his son deputy, completely blind to the way Brokentail continued to lead the Clan into battles that resulted in Clanmates dying. If only I had known what lay ahead . . .” He lifted his head and placed his muzzle against Tigerclaw’s. “I give you a life for farsightedness, for understanding what the results of your actions might be, however distant in the future. It will be the hardest and most lonely part of your duty as leader, Tigerclaw, but essential to keep your Clan safe. Do not rush into anything. Look forward, and choose the path that leads to where you would want your Clanmates to be.”

The life was clear and sparkling like the light from the Moonstone. It danced through Tigerclaw’s fur, sharpening all his senses until he felt as if he could see right to the edges of StarClan. Something stirred at the back of Tigerclaw’s mind.

“But Cedarstar, where are my lives for courage? For strength in battle and revenge on my enemies?” He heard his voice go shrill with doubt, and winced. Cedarstar looked calmly at him.

“You bring enough courage, strength, and vengeance in yourself. It is the duty of StarClan to give you lives for what you might lack, to make your leadership fair for all the cats in your care.”

Tigerclaw twitched his ears. if StarClan trusts me to win battles without their help, who am I to argue? “Thank you, Cedarstar,” he mewed.

“Welcome, Tigerstar!” Cedarstar declared, stepping back and raising his voice. “Lead ShadowClan well with all of your lives!”

“Welcome, Tigerstar!”

“Tigerstar!”

“Tigerstar!”

Tigerstar bathed in the cheers of the StarClan cats. At last! This is what I have waited for my whole life. He looked around and saw a group of cats standing close together, watching with anxious, hopeful eyes. He recognized the current and former ShadowClan elders: Cinderfur, Tallpoppy, Darkflower, and Dawncloud. And beside them, Nightstar—or perhaps Nightpelt, here, because he had never been given nine lives but only three? I will lead your Clan back to the glory it had before, Tigerstar promised them silently. Trust me.

The starlit cats began to fade in front of him, but several new ones appeared. One, a white-furred she-cat with green eyes, he didn’t recognize, but with a sense of fear and dread, he recognized Mistflow, Redtail, and Lionheart standing in front of him.

“Why are you here?” he growled at his former Clanmates.

“We have come to warn you,” Mistflow told him. “If you continue down this path, it will end in your death.”

Tigerstar narrowed his eyes. “Do you mean StarClan will kill me? Because there is no living warrior who is strong enough to hurt me now. I have nine lives!”

“Nine lives does not make you invincible,” Redtail warned. “If I’d been leader and had my lives when you decided to kill me, I would have been helpless after that first death. You’ve seen it enough times to know the vulnerability.”

“You thought about killing Bluestar when the rats killed her in the original timeline,” the white she-cat added.

“And if Fireheart hadn’t been there to fight you while Bluestar recovered, you would have taken all her lives from her that day,” Lionheart finished. “Even you aren’t invincible. Only one cat can boast that.”

Tigerclaw didn’t want to hear their pathetic warnings. He’d had enough of those tonight. I’m the strongest cat in the forest!

“Heed our advice, brother,” Mistflow mewed seriously. “Fix what you have destroyed, mend what you have broken. You have a second chance now. Otherwise, darkness will consume you forever.”

With that, the last of the StarClan vanished, leaving Tigerstar alone.

Runningnose appeared, making Tigerstar jump. “I have been here all along,” Runningnose meowed. “It is time to leave now.”

Tigerstar nodded. “I have a Clan to lead,” he declared. Runningnose paused and looked at him. “With StarClan’s blessing,” he mewed.

“Tigerstar, you must listen to what our ancestors have said to you tonight. If you do not respect what each life stands for, StarClan cannot help you.”

Tigerstar tensed. Was his medicine cat threatening him? “I heard nothing tonight that challenges what I want to do with my Clan,” he growled. “You are my medicine cat, Runningnose. You serve me before your Clanmates, before StarClan.”

Runningnose’s eyes darkened for a moment, then he dipped his head. “Of course, Tigerstar,” he murmured.

Tigerstar lifted his head and stared at the star-washed landscape. “ShadowClan is mine,” he whispered. “And I have nine lifetimes to make them remember me forever!”