Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

As the sun began to slide toward the horizon, throwing lazy shadows across his path, he saw a Twolegplace sprawling across the valley ahead. It cluttered the hollow between the enclosing hills with low stone nests, and he could make out a maze of Thunderpaths weaving through it. Instinct told him to go around, but where there were Twoleg nests, there were kittypets. And kittypets might know of the gorse-spined den Dovewing had seen in her dream. Fluffing his fur against the deepening chill of the afternoon, he turned his paws toward the Twolegplace.

He crossed a meadow edged by Twoleg nests. Twoleg smells reached his nose as soon as he neared the small patches of fenced land that lay behind them. Monster stench rolled over him. Strange food scents confused him. How could any cat hunt when prey-scent was hidden by such unnatural odors?

Perhaps that was why kittypets ate the food their Twolegs gave them.

As he wondered about kittypets, a thought lit him with hope. Dovewing might have come this way in search of information about the gorse-spined den, just as he had. A kittypet might have spoken to her. He’d know for sure that he was traveling in the right direction. He reached a wooden fence and jumped. Hooking in his claws, he hauled himself up, sending splinters of sharp-smelling wood showering down behind him. At the top, he warily surveyed the patches of green behind each Twoleg nest. Birds twittered in the trees, which sprouted here and there among the patches. His fur smoothed along his spine with relief. There were no Twolegs, and no scent of dog. No kittypets either. He frowned. He’d have to push deeper into the Twolegplace to find a cat to ask about Dovewing. He spotted an opening between the two closest nests, jumped down, and crossed the grass. Ears pricked, he pushed past a bush and slipped into the shadowy gap.

He crept through it, relieved to see light at the end of a stone-lined path. He hurried along it, his pelt prickling. Monsters were rumbling in the distance. The whooping of Twoleg kits pierced his ear fur. He slowed as he reached the end of the gap and peered out uneasily. A Thunderpath ran between two rows of nests. Stretches of grass, dotted by bushes and young trees, lay beside it. Had Dovewing been here? Longing seared his heart. He should have been with her. He tasted the air, wrinkling his nose. There was no familiar smell to guide him, but he couldn’t stay where he was. He darted from the shadows and hurried that way, ducking beneath a low-spreading willow as a monster growled along the Thunderpath a few tail-lengths ahead. He crouched, waiting as it passed.

His heart fluttered like a trapped bird. He just needed to find one friendly kittypet.

Suddenly an excited mrrow sounded behind him. He spun. His pelt bushed as a soft bundle of fur flew at his face. It toppled clumsily over him and knocked him off his paws. As he rolled clear, he smelled kittypet. A tom, but a young one, his scent faint. Tigerheart darted from beneath the willow, and as the kittypet chased after him, he saw that it was a splotchy ginger tabby, thick-furred and hardly bigger than Whorlpaw. Its yellow eyes flashed excitedly. With a squeak, it reared for another lunge. Tigerheart batted it away. Was this how all kittypets fought?

The ginger tabby seemed unconcerned by the clumsiness of his attacks. Paws fluttered around his ears like butterflies as Tigerheart ducked another flurry. Then the kittypet bounced around him, ears twitching, fur bushed. “Come on!” he mewed eagerly. “Fight back!”

Tigerheart swallowed a purr. Did the kittypet seriously think this was a real fight? Tigerheart kept his claws sheathed as the tabby flung itself at him once more. He ducked the flailing paws and jabbed his nose beneath the kittypet’s belly. Flicking his head up, he flipped the tom onto its back.

“Wow! Nice!” The kittypet scrambled to its paws and turned on Tigerheart. It ducked beneath Tigerheart’s belly as though trying to copy his move, but when it tried to push up, Tigerheart hopped neatly out of the way. The kittypet spun. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m over here.” Tigerheart sat down and watched the befuddled tabby drop into an ungainly attack crouch. He lifted a paw as the tabby began to wiggle its hindquarters. “Stop.”

The tabby blinked at him. “Why? Am I winning?”

Tigerheart eyed him. “I’m not looking for a fight,” he meowed.

The tabby paused. “But I was winning, right?”

Something seemed to catch the tabby’s eye, because his gaze flashed to the Twoleg den behind Tigerheart. His pelt fluffed excitedly. “Got to go!” he mewed. “Let’s fight again soon.”

Before Tigerheart could speak, the kittypet hared past him, leaped a stretch of small shrubs, and disappeared into the shadows between two nests.

Tigerheart stared after him. What was that all about? If the kittypet was defending its border, then it wasn’t very good at it. Perhaps it was just hoping to scare him off. Did the tabby think that a few soft jabs were enough to scare a warrior away? Kittypets must have bees in their brain. He shook out his pelt and crossed the grass. Following the Thunderpath, he skirted the row of Twoleg nests. The sun was slipping toward the hillside.

“Hi.” A gentle mew made him stop. He looked toward the Twoleg nest where the voice had sounded. A pale cream she-cat was crouched on a wide wooden ledge jutting from the front. She glanced down at him, her fluffy tail twitching at the tip. “You’re not from around here. Are you lost?”

Tigerheart eyed the kittypet and saw softness in her gaze. “I’m looking for someone.” He padded toward the ledge and blinked at her hopefully. “A gray cat called Dovewing. Have you seen her? She might have passed this way a few days ago. She was looking for a den with spikes on the roof like gorse spines.”

The kittypet looked puzzled. “Spikes?”

“It’s in a Twolegplace where the nests reach into the sky,” Tigerheart explained.

The kittypet glanced at the low Twoleg nests surrounding hers. “It won’t be here, then,” she mewed apologetically.

“Perhaps you saw Dovewing?” Tigerheart’s belly ached with hope as he searched the kittypet’s face for recognition.

“Fight!” An excited yowl sounded behind him, and he turned to see the ginger tabby rushing toward him once more.

Frustration spiked Tigerheart’s pelt. Not you again! He reared to meet the tom’s attack, flipped the kittypet’s hind paws from beneath him with a swipe of one paw, and knocked him to the ground with another. He pinned him there, his claws sheathed, his paws buried deep in the tabby’s fluffy pelt. The kittypet was so soft it was like pressing into moss.

“Hey!” the kittypet wailed indignantly, trying to wriggle free of Tigerheart’s grip.

“I don’t have time to fight,” Tigerheart meowed firmly. “I’m looking for someone. If I let you up, will you back off?”

The kittypet squirmed. “But why? I’m having fun!”

“Just back off,” Tigerheart growled.

The kittypet stopped squirming. “Okay.”

Tigerheart let him go.

The kittypet leaped to his paws and backed away, his eyes bright. “That was an awesome move,” he mewed. “Can you show me how you did it?”

“I said I don’t have time.” Tigerheart’s pelt prickled with irritation. Every moment that passed, Dovewing was getting further away.

“Do you need to get back to your Twolegs?” the kittypet tom asked.

“I don’t have Twolegs,” Tigerheart told him. “I’m a warrior.”

“A warrior!” The kittypet’s eyes widened in wonder. “That’s why you fight so good. I’ve heard about warriors. Have you been one for long?”

“Since I was born.” Tigerheart supposed that was a bit inaccurate—he’d been a kit and an apprentice first—but that didn’t seem worth explaining to this kittypet, whose eyes widened with interest.