Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

“Okay.” Tigerheart assessed the three cats quickly. “You’re going to have to help—”

“But I can’t fight,” Dash protested in a whisper.

“You only need one move.” He turned on Dash and slowly but firmly swept one paw under the station cat’s front paws, tugging them from beneath him, then swept another softly over his ears.

Dash stumbled, but Tigerheart caught him before his flank hit the ground.

“You try it on me,” Tigerheart ordered.

Dash blinked at him, recovering from his surprise, then frowned thoughtfully. After a moment of concentration, he jabbed clumsily at Tigerheart’s front paws, managing to hook them with speed rather than accuracy, and then swung an awkward blow that caught one of Tigerheart’s ears.

“Not bad.” Tigerheart stumbled and regained his balance. “I’ll drive the she-cat from the top of the rot pile. As soon as she lands, you do your move on Floyd.”

“On Floyd?” Dash looked alarmed. “But what if he fights back?”

“Don’t worry. You just need to start the fight. I’ll finish it,” Tigerheart promised. “But it has to look like you attacked them, or they’ll keep hassling you.”

Dash nodded.

“Remember,” Tigerheart encouraged, “you’re fighting for your territory, okay?”

Dash’s eyes flashed anxiously. Tigerheart didn’t give him a chance to argue. “Follow me.” He marched across the stone and leaped onto the rot pile where the tabby was rummaging. His paws sank right into the garbage. He swallowed against the nausea that swept over him as he felt wetness seep into his fur.

The tabby looked at him in surprise. Her warm scent touched his nose. “Hi.” She flicked her tail at him flirtatiously. “You’re new around here.”

A hiss sounded from below. “Mae! Who are you talking to?”

Mae picked her way across the stinking rubbish and peered over the edge. “Just a stranger.” She glanced back at Tigerheart and winked. “It’s nice to see a tom who looks like he can feed himself.”

Tigerheart glanced at Dash, who was padding across the stone toward the two toms. “I’ve moved into the station with Dash,” he meowed quickly. “And we don’t think there’s enough food around here to share with you three.” He flattened his ears and gave her a warning hiss.

Her gaze hardened instantly. “Do you really think you and that fleabag can drive us away?” She curled her lip. “We’re the ones who own these bins. The sooner you learn that, the better.” With a hiss, she flung herself at him. He leaped clear, the garbage shifting beneath his paws. This wasn’t an easy place to fight. As he turned to meet another attack, his paws sunk deeper. Below, he heard an angry yowl.

“You think you can fight now, station cat?”

Struggling to get a paw hold, Tigerheart reared to meet Mae’s attack. He wrapped his paws around her and, holding on hard, threw himself onto his side and rolled over the trash toward the edge of the rot pile. Then he dropped over the edge, dragging her with him. As his paws met the stone, he let his hind legs fold beneath him, absorbing the impact of the landing while he still held Mae.

She struggled and hissed in his grip. Behind him he heard an angry yowl. He glanced backward and saw Floyd collapse onto the stone as Dash swung a blow at his cheek. Well done! He flung Mae away and leaped between Dash and Floyd while the ragged tom found his paws.

“Hi,” Tigerheart snarled. “I’m Dash’s new friend.” He sliced his claws across the mangy tom’s face.

He heard the tabby hiss behind him and kicked out his hind legs. His paws slammed into her chest. She grunted and staggered away.

The other tom stared, unmoving, from beside the rot pile. Floyd backed away, hissing. Tigerheart padded to Dash’s side as Mae glared angrily at Floyd, her pelt ruffled.

“Is that it?” she growled at the brown-and-white tom. “Aren’t you going to fight him?”

“ You fight him,” Floyd spat back. “His claws are sharp.” He dabbed at his bloody muzzle with a paw.

“He threw me off the rot pile!” Mae snapped indignantly. She looked at the other tom. “What about you, Scrap? Aren’t you going to defend me?”

Scrap looked nervously from Tigerheart to Dash. “Why don’t we just go and find somewhere else to eat?” he mewed. “There are some more rot piles just down the street.”

Tigerheart showed his teeth. “Good idea.” These cats were mouse-hearts. “Go scavenge somewhere else. This is Dash’s territory.”

The rot pile cats glanced at one another uncertainly. Then Floyd shrugged. “I guess we could find other rot piles. There’s no decent food here anyway.” He turned and headed down the stone path that led toward a gap where monsters rumbled past. Scrap followed him, glancing reproachfully at Dash. Mae shot Tigerheart a look. “You didn’t have to get mean .”

“You’ve been bullying Dash.” Tigerheart glared at her.

“It’s his own fault for being so pathetic.” She hissed at Dash and headed after the others.

“At least he’s willing to fight for what’s his!” Tigerheart yowled after her.

“Yeah!” Dash fluffed out his fur. “So don’t come back here.”

Tigerheart glanced at him. “Are you going to be okay once I’m gone?”

“Sure.” Dash blinked at him happily. “Now that I’ve seen how easily they give up.”

“If they ever learn how to work together, they might be dangerous,” Tigerheart warned.

“They won’t.” Dash watched them as they disappeared around the corner. “Cats tend to look out for themselves around here.”

“They look out for one another where I come from,” Tigerheart told him, trying to ignore the prickles of sadness in his chest as he thought about how much fun it was, hunting with his Clanmates.

“Why?”

Tigerheart stared at him. Couldn’t he guess? “Cats are stronger when they work together.”

“But isn’t it easier when you only have to take care of yourself?” Dash seemed perplexed.

The tom’s words sparked guilt in Tigerheart’s belly. Wasn’t that the thought he’d had when he left ShadowClan? No! I’m going to find Dovewing. She needs me. He blinked at Dash. “You didn’t seem to be doing so well at taking care of yourself.”

“I made you help me.” Dash swished his tail. “That was pretty smart.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tigerheart told him. “I wanted to help you.”

“Really?” Dash looked surprised.

“Really.” Tigerheart glanced along the stone path that the rot pile cats had taken toward the Thunderpath. “Is the Twoleg gathering place that way?”

Dash followed his gaze. “Yes.” He glanced hungrily at the rot pile. “Do you want some food first?”

Tigerheart still had the scent of rancid trash on his paws. “No, thanks. I’ll hunt later.” He craned his neck, looking up at the dens towering around him. It was like being in a forest, with slivers of sky cutting between the soaring rooftops. The sun was sliding slowly behind them.

Dash was still looking at the rot piles. “Come on, let’s rummage for food. You’ll like it. Some of it’s really good.”

“No, thanks.” Tigerheart wished Dash would stop offering. He wanted to find out if the gathering place was the thorn den Dovewing had been looking for. “I don’t eat crow-food unless I have no choice.”

“Crow-food?” Dash frowned.

“Scraps,” Tigerheart explained.

“Crow-food.” Dash repeated thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, as though thinking; then he shrugged. “I guess if it’s good enough for a crow, it’s good enough for me.”

Tigerheart’s pelt pricked uneasily. Why did Dovewing believe it was better to raise their kits in a place where cats thought of themselves as no better than crows? “Come on.” He headed along the stone path, flattening his ears against the rumbling of the monsters at the end.