Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

“I’m okay,” Dovewing reassured him gently. “It’s just a fox bite, and Spire has treated it. It’s healing fast.”

“A fox bite?” In a flash, Tigerheart relived every nightmare that had haunted him since she’d left. She’d been so vulnerable on her own. How had he ever left her to make the journey without him?

“It happened while I was out with the guardian cats,” she told him gently, easing down into her nest.

“The guardian cats?” Tigerheart blinked at her dumbly.

“These cats here.” Her gaze swept around the cave. “They take care of one another. And of strangers who need help or healing.” Her eyes rounded as she stared at him. “You see? My dream was right. I was meant to come here. Our kits will be safe.”

For how long? Tigerheart’s thoughts spiraled. Sure, the guardian cats seemed kind and helpful, like a whole Clan of medicine cats. But what about Dash, a cat who didn’t even understand that cats were stronger together? Or Floyd, Scrap, and Mae? They only thought of themselves. Was this really a good place to raise kits? How could they ever learn to become warriors if they were surrounded by strays and loners?

Dovewing was still looking at him, her eyes huge and dark, glittering in the shadows. She needed him to be strong. She needed him to be a warrior. She needed him to stand beside her.

“Our kits will be safe here,” he agreed. He stepped into the nest and curled around her, his belly softening as he felt the warmth of her pelt against his. He wrapped his tail tightly around her and tucked his muzzle behind her ear. “Your dream was right. It has brought us here.” The nest was comfortable, the furless pelts soft against his spine. He relaxed into them and closed his eyes. “Are you hungry?” he murmured sleepily as she snuggled into him, purring. “I’ll hunt for you soon. I want our kits to grow healthy and strong.”

“I can hunt,” she whispered. “There are plenty of mice around the gathering place.”

“But I want to get used to taking care of my kin.” Tigerheart’s words were slurred by sleep.

“You always have,” Dovewing murmured. “And you always will.”

Her scent filled his nose as he nuzzled deep into her fur. Happiness moved through him like a greenleaf breeze and seemed to lift him gently up. As he breathed softly and deeply, drawing in her warmth, he floated into sleep.

“Wake up, sleepypaws.”

Dovewing’s gentle mew nudged Tigerheart from his slumber. Dovewing! He’d found her. Fresh joy flooded him. He smelled the scent of mouse and opened his eyes. Surprise spiked through his fur as daylight flooded his gaze. It was morning! He’d slept all night. He lifted his head sharply. “I was going to hunt.” Confused, he gazed around the den. Slowly, memories of his arrival—the Thundersnake, Dash, the rot piles, the guardian cats—flooded back.

“I brought you this.” She nudged a mouse toward him. “You must be hungry.”

He was. His belly was as hollow as a deserted rabbit hole. He licked his lips. “But I was going to hunt for you.”

“Are you frightened you’ll forget how to catch a mouse?” Dovewing’s green eyes sparkled teasingly. She looked happy. “Don’t worry, Tigerheart. You’ll have plenty of chances to refresh your memory. There are a lot of mouths to feed here.”

Tigerheart followed her gaze around the cave. In the bright morning light, it seemed friendlier. But the smooth walls and shiny floor and Twoleg clutter still felt strange. He leaned closer to Dovewing. “We’re living in a Twoleg den. Don’t you find it odd?”

She shrugged. “Not anymore. Twolegs don’t use it,” she told him. “They meet upstairs every few days, but they don’t live there, and they never come down here.”

Tigerheart glanced at the flat, square ceiling. “But they built this den. Why don’t they use it?”

Dovewing hooked the mouse up with her claw and dropped it into the nest. “Stop worrying and eat.”

The mouse tasted musty. There was no forest sweetness in its flesh, but he was grateful for it. As he began to eat, Dovewing glanced over her shoulder. A skinny black tom was padding toward them. Dovewing climbed into the nest beside Tigerheart and pressed against him. Was she frightened of this tom? He didn’t look dangerous, and a small white-and-ginger kit was following him.

“Is this the cat you were talking about?” The kit wove excitedly around the black tom as he stopped beside the nest.

Tigerheart chewed his mouse, curiosity pricking in his fur. The black tom blinked at him slowly. There was a remote look in his eyes that made Tigerheart wonder what he was thinking.

“Yes. He must be the second one.” The tom’s gaze flicked over Tigerheart. “I was expecting two cats. Now they’re both finally here.”

Tigerheart frowned. What was he talking about? Had he known they would be coming? How?

Dovewing shifted beside him. “This is Spire.” She dipped her head. “He’s a healer here.”

The kit puffed out his chest. “He’s the best healer here. He knows things no other cat knows. And he dreams things. I’m Blaze, by the way. I help Spire. And he looks after me.”

Spire did not acknowledge the kit’s words. Instead he just turned and began to pad away, as abruptly as he had come.

Tigerheart blinked at the healer, swallowing his mouthful. He’d seemed interested in their arrival. Didn’t he want to stay and talk? “Nice to meet you,” he called.

But the tom didn’t seem to be listening. His head was tipped back, and he was staring into midair, mumbling to himself. Then he dropped his gaze and shook his head, as if answering a question only he could hear, asked by some cat only he could see.

Blaze hurried after him. “Are you hungry, Spire? Shall we go and look for food?”

Fierce padded past the kit. She flicked her tail fondly along his spine. “Go and ask Mittens to help you hunt,” she told him.

“Okay.” Blaze caught up to Spire and nudged him toward a tabby tom basking in a strip of sunshine.

Fierce headed toward Dovewing’s nest. Tigerheart swallowed the last morsel of mouse as she reached them. Cobweb and a tabby she-cat were with her.

“I see you’ve met Spire,” Fierce meowed.

“He said he was expecting us,” Tigerheart told her.

“Spire says a lot of things.” Fierce flicked her tail. “Most of it is nonsense. He gets confused. But we look after him. And he’s a good healer.”

“Blaze mentioned that.” Tigerheart looked across the cavern at the kit. He was nosing the tabby to his paws.

Fierce purred. “Blaze is good for him. Keeps Spire’s paws on the ground even though his thoughts are in the clouds. I have no idea why a kit wants to spend so much time with such a strange cat, but they take care of each other.”

Tigerheart looked at Dovewing. “You said Spire treated your fox bite,” he said. “Do you think he is a medicine cat?”

Dovewing shrugged. “I really don’t know. He says he has dreams… but I don’t think they come from StarClan. Sometimes it seems like he just sees things that aren’t there.” Her fur ruffled. “I just wish he didn’t keep looking at me like he knows something about me.” She looked up at Fierce. “And he was acting weird with Tigerheart just now, too.”

Fierce’s eyes rounded with interest. “Really?”

Beside her, the tabby she-cat’s ears twitched. “Sometimes Spire gets his weird dreams mixed up with reality. He probably thinks you can fly.” She purred at Tigerheart.

“This is Cinnamon.” Fierce introduced the brown tabby, who shifted her white paws shyly and dipped her head in greeting.

“Hi, Cinnamon.”

As Tigerheart nodded in return, Fierce blinked at Dovewing. “I’m glad your mate has come at last.” She turned to Tigerheart. “Dovewing’s told us about you.”