Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

Ahead, he could make out the shapes of the guardian cats against the flood of light at the far end of the tunnel. He splashed his way through and emerged a few moments after them onto the dirty strip of grass between two Thunderpaths. Deaf to the monsters streaking past either side, he stared wide-eyed at the guardian cats. “They’re mates,” he puffed. “The foxes are mates.” He saw by the darkness in Fierce’s eyes that she understood. If a pair of foxes had taken over their herb land, before long there would be cubs—and so many foxes that they would never be able to gather herbs there again.

“We’re healers, not fighters.” Pipsqueak, a brown-and-white tom, squared up to Tigerheart in the middle of the cavern beneath the gathering place.

“But Fierce says the cats who stay on here each have their own role,” Tigerheart reminded him. “She said some heal, some hunt, and some guard.”

Dotty, a pale white-and-ginger she-cat, padded to Pipsqueak’s side. “Keeping watch and warning if danger is near is different from mounting an attack on a pair of foxes.”

In the two days since the fight with the foxes, Tigerheart’s tail had healed, thanks to the poultice Spire had smeared over the torn fur. At first Tigerheart had been concerned that Spire was inexperienced, because he kept mumbling, “Is this right?” as he prepared the salve. But after a while, he began to wonder—could Spire be seeking guidance from some unseen mentor?

The guardian cats’ herb store was running low, and a chill in the air warned that frost might come sooner rather than later. Frost would kill the leaves the healers needed to see them through leaf-bare. Besides, they needed to drive the foxes away before the pair settled into a den. They couldn’t afford to wait until any cubs were born; Tigerheart knew that as soon as the vixen was expecting, the foxes would be fighting for their young. It would be impossible to win a battle for the land, and the guardian cats’ precious herb source could be lost within a moon.

Tigerheart had assembled the guardian cats in a circle while Dovewing rested in their nest. He wanted to teach them how to fight.

Tigerheart glanced around the circle. Fierce hung back, curiosity flashing in her bright green gaze. Blaze was watching excitedly beside Spire. The strange healer’s gaze was drifting as usual, following the dust motes that hung in the shafts of sunshine cutting the air. Ant and Cinnamon shifted their paws impatiently. Tigerheart knew that they, at least, wanted to learn battle moves. Cobweb was still recovering from the bitemarks the fox had left on his back. But Boots, the one-eyed tabby who had tended to him, said the wound was superficial: Cobweb’s spine was unharmed. The long-furred gray tom watched from his nest now, his eyes still dull with pain while Boots sat beside him. Rascal and Mittens, the tabbies known best for their hunting skills, eyed Tigerheart with interest, exchanging glances as Pipsqueak and Dotty stared at him challengingly.

Peanut, a healer cat, caught Tigerheart’s eye. “We need to restock the herb store soon,” she mewed, flicking her gaze from Tigerheart to Dotty. “And if that means fighting, we should fight. Cats’ lives may depend on it.”

Dotty stared back at her. “ You won’t be doing the fighting,” she pointed out. “You’re a healer here. You barely hunt.”

Fierce padded forward at last. Tigerheart’s belly sparked with hope.

“If you don’t want to fight, then don’t fight,” she mewed casually.

Tigerheart stared at her. “You should encourage them!”

Her eyes widened. “Why me?”

“You’re the leader.” She acted like one, and all the cats dipped their heads in respect when they greeted her.

“You seem to have misunderstood.” Fierce flicked her tail. “We are equals here. This isn’t a Clan .” She spoke the word as though the strangeness of warriors was beyond her understanding.

Irritation pricked in Tigerheart’s pelt. “If you want to protect your territory, you’re going to have to start thinking like a Clan.”

“We don’t have territory,” Dotty mewed querulously. “We simply shelter here and take care of one another.”

“What’s the land you gather herbs on if not territory ?” Tigerheart challenged.

“It’s just land,” Pipsqueak meowed.

Tigerheart’s ears twitched. “So you don’t mind foxes taking it?”

“Of course we mind,” Pipsqueak snapped. “We need the herbs.”

“Then you’re going to have to fight for them!” Tigerheart raised his voice, looking pleadingly at Fierce. Hadn’t she asked him directly for this help? Why wasn’t she supporting him now?

Fierce padded around Pipsqueak and Dotty. “This warrior does have a point,” she mewed casually. “We all joined this community because we needed help or shelter. Without herbs, some of us wouldn’t be here now, and we owe it to future visitors to give them the same care we received.”

Pipsqueak tipped his head thoughtfully. “Are you telling us to fight?”

Tigerheart’s belly fluttered with hope.

Fierce glanced into a shaft of sunlight. “If we learn fighting skills, we can drive the foxes away and gather all the herbs we want. But it’s your choice. Learn to fight or don’t. It’s up to you.”

Dotty narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to let this warrior teach you how to fight, Fierce?”

“Of course.” Fierce stopped in front of Tigerheart. “I think he has a lot of useful knowledge. It seems foolish not to learn from him.”

He blinked at her gratefully. She was going to convince them!

Ant padded forward. “I want to learn how to fight too.”

“And me.” Cinnamon joined him.

Rascal and Mittens looked at each other.

“There are foxes everywhere in this city,” Rascal meowed.

“And dogs.” Mittens whisked his tail. “We’d be pigeon-brained not to learn some fighting skills from a warrior .”

Tigerheart blinked at Pipsqueak and Dotty. Were they going to agree too?

“I guess there’s no harm in learning,” Pipsqueak conceded.

“So long as this outsider doesn’t start thinking of himself as our leader,” Dotty mewed.

“We’re equals here,” Pipsqueak reminded Tigerheart.

“I only want to help.” As Tigerheart dipped his head modestly, his thoughts flitted back to ShadowClan. Scorchfur and Snowbird had practically begged him to lead them. Here the cats didn’t want anyone to lead them, especially not him. His frustration with the guardian cats melted away. It felt good not to be weighed down by responsibility. These cats only wanted to learn a few battle moves that would help them save their herb patch. Their simplicity warmed him, and he purred. “Let’s start.” He padded to the center of the cavern and dropped into the first battle crouch Oakfur had ever taught him. He looked around at the watching cats. “This is the easiest position to launch most battle moves from.”

Before long, the guardian cats were practicing moves on one another while Tigerheart wove among them, adjusting crouches and advising which paw was the best to lead with or to push back on. As he moved from one cat to another, he remembered training Sleekpaw. He had spent long days in the forest with his apprentice, going over moves that could defeat ThunderClan, or confuse a RiverClan cat, or unbalance a lithe WindClan warrior. That was before the apprentices had turned on their own Clan, before the rogues had come and trouble had torn ShadowClan apart. The memory pierced his heart like a thorn, and he jerked his thoughts back to the present. These cats were learning how to defeat foxes, not warriors. There were no rogues here, or Clans to betray.