Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

Heart pounding, he approached the yawning hole. The utter blackness inside alarmed him. Did Dovewing come this way? He stepped into the darkness and shivered as it swallowed him. Pressing against the smooth stone wall of the tunnel, he used it to guide him. His gaze, usually so sharp in darkness, could make out nothing except more darkness. He put one paw gingerly in front of the other, acutely aware of his whisker tips as he felt for obstacles ahead. An icy breeze swept his pelt as wind streamed through the tunnel. He fluffed his fur against the chill, his heart pounding as he strained hopefully to see moonlight.

As he walked, he glanced backward and saw that the opening behind him had disappeared into shadow. He was completely enclosed by darkness. A sound stirred his ear fur. He stiffened as he heard a low rumble. His whiskers quivered as the Silverpath beside him began to tremble. A light showed ahead. The end of the tunnel? Even as hope pricked in his belly, he knew he was wrong. The sour stench of a Thundersnake tainted the breeze. Its roar slowly grew as the light shone brighter. A Thundersnake was heading toward him.

Tigerheart froze in terror. Was there room enough to hide? Jerking into action, he squeezed himself against the side of the tunnel and pressed down onto his belly so that he was flat against the earth. The breeze hardened, battering his face like freezing water. Even when he narrowed his eyes to slits, the glare of the Thundersnake’s single eye stung his gaze. Its roar grew until Tigerheart thought his ears would burst. He flattened them and pressed himself harder against the wall and the earth. Tucking his nose under his paws, he braced himself for the Thundersnake to strike. It tore past like a hurricane. The earth shook. The air screamed. The Thundersnake’s roar seemed to howl into every part of him until he felt that its fury would tear him apart.

Then it was gone. The noise died; the wind dropped. For a moment, Tigerheart wondered if he’d been deafened. Then he heard water drip onto stone nearby. Limp with fear, he lay still until he stopped trembling. His heart slowed, and he steadied his breath. As he pushed himself shakily to his paws, exhilaration swept through him. I survived. He’d never felt so close to death before. Is this what losing a life feels like to a Clan leader?

He lifted his muzzle and padded on through the darkness, quickening his pace a little. He wanted to get to the end of this tunnel fast. Stubbing his claws on a stone in the dark would be far less awful than facing another Thundersnake.

As he hurried on, praying for moonlight, a new scent touched his nose. He stopped, his heart quickening. He leaned down, quickly sniffing the ground. Fluff tickled his nose, its scent so familiar that his heart nearly burst with joy. Dovewing’s fur! No blood, no fear-scent, just a few strands of her pelt, as though she had stopped to scratch an itch and had left a shower of fur behind. She had come this way! Tigerheart’s chest seemed to burst with joy. He was on the right trail. Dovewing had to be waiting for him at the end.

Tigerheart woke, his heart pounding. He’d dreamed of ShadowClan. He’d been among them, but watching unseen, like a spirit from StarClan. They weren’t aware that he was there. He wasn’t even sure these dream cats would have known him, for they seemed to inhabit a reality he barely recognized.

The pines around the camp had seemed so thick they hid the sky. Darktail had stalked the clearing, and, hollow-eyed, his Clanmates had followed his orders to defend the border from a predatory SkyClan. Tigerheart had tracked them to the scent line and watched in horror as they battled desperately while SkyClan drove them back. Ivypool fought alongside SkyClan, her eyes shining with spiteful triumph as ShadowClan cats fell one by one. Scorchfur lay shrieking in agony, blood oozing from his flanks. Whorlpaw wailed over Snakepaw’s battered body. Flowerpaw backed away as Hawkwing snarled at her, lips drawn back. Snowbird dropped to her belly as Leafstar’s claws left red trails across the white warrior’s face. And all the while Darktail had slipped among the shadows, urging them to fight, driving ShadowClan to more suffering—never entering the battle, but always goading them to sacrifice more.

Tigerheart’s fur rippled as he pushed himself to his paws and blinked in the watery dawn light. The nest where he’d slept was hardly more than a pile of leaves, gathered in a drift against a fallen tree. He’d been traveling for days, following the Silverpath by day, hunting and sleeping by night. His paws ached from walking, and he felt colder each day. He’d grown almost numb to the roar and the wind of passing Thundersnakes and more than once had eaten prey one of them had killed. Or at least he guessed the Thundersnake had killed it, because he’d found it lying beside the track, sour with death. For the first time in his life he had tasted deer flesh. It was stale, not far from rotting, but he’d eaten it gratefully. He was ashamed to eat crow-food, but eating what the Thundersnake left gave him more time to travel.

Twoleg nests had grown more numerous in the past day. He’d slept farther from the track last night, away from the dens clustering around the Silverpath. He guessed he would reach another stopping place soon, where Twolegs could bustle in and out of the Thundersnake. He glanced around the small copse where he’d spent the night and tasted the air. He’d hunted and eaten before he slept, but he was hungry again. There were no fresh prey-scents left here. He would have to hunt as he walked.

As he padded from the shadow of the trees into a thin drizzle, last night’s dream haunted him. Guilt wormed in his belly. Had he left ShadowClan unprotected? StarClan, take care of them. He fluffed out his pelt against the rain and focused on Dovewing. She needed him. His decision to leave had been right. Hadn’t Puddleshine seen his shadow block the sun?

He pushed his way through the wet grass and slid between two dens, emerging onto the Silverpath beyond. A puddle gleamed where water pooled between the tracks. Thirsty, Tigerheart stopped beside it and drank. He shuddered at the foul taste and padded on, feeling queasy and longing for the fresh rainwater pools of the forest.

The rain was hardening, and the damp reached through his fur as he followed the Silverpath down a gentle slope, where the cluster of Twoleg nests thickened. He could smell Thunderpaths and hear the rumbling of monsters beyond them. The track reached deeper into the earth, the land rising on either side in steep banks until Tigerheart’s paws began to prick nervously. Twoleg fences walled the top of the banks. He was hemmed in now, like prey in a gorge. Ahead, a Thunderpath spanned the track, arching above it. Tigerheart glanced nervously over his shoulder. Don’t let a Thundersnake come now. He quickened his pace, hoping that the Silverpath would lead into countryside once more.

Ahead, a flat stone ledge sat squarely beside the track. Another stopping place for a Thundersnake. It was slick with rain. Tigerheart scanned the ledge nervously, relieved when he saw no Twolegs waiting there. As he hurried past it, a mouse darted across the track. He pricked his ears. His belly was still hollow, so he dropped into a hunting crouch and watched the mouse scamper over the track and scrabble up the steep slope onto the stone ledge. Eyeing it hungrily, Tigerheart wondered whether to follow. The ledge was deserted. It would be easy enough to jump up, catch the mouse, and carry it to eat in a quiet spot beyond the Thundersnake’s resting place. He was hungry enough to risk it.