Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

“You scared them away!” Tigerheart faced the strays angrily.

“Why didn’t you stop them?” Fog blinked at him. “They were right under your paws.”

“Have you ever tried catching rats before? They’re fast and they’re slippery.” Tigerheart jerked his nose toward the ditch. “ I had a plan and you ruined it! You drove them straight into the trash field.” These cats hunted like mouse-brains. As Fierce slewed to a halt beside him, Tigerheart glared at her. “This is why you need borders!” he snapped. “If you knew where your land was, you could hunt there without other cats interfering with your catch.”

Ant, Spire, and Dovewing reached them and stared at the strays.

Tuna stared back. He nodded to the white tom. “These are the cats we mentioned, Streak.”

Streak looked at them through narrowed eyes. “Are they the ones who live inside that big, warm, dry den?”

Tigerheart glared at Fog. “You promised to keep out of our way.”

She flicked her tail. “You told us not to scavenge. We’re not scavenging; we’re hunting.”

Fierce shook rain from her pelt. “Let’s go back to the scrapcans. The rats are gone, and there’s more shelter in the alleys.”

“Don’t you care that they frightened our prey away?” Tigerheart didn’t wait for an answer. “We must establish borders now . We need to know which land belongs to us and which belongs to them.”

Fog looked toward the trash heaped over the field. “You can have this land,” she offered.

Fierce wrinkled her nose. “The scraps here are rotten.”

“But there are plenty of rats for you to hunt.” Fog caught Tigerheart’s eye scornfully. “Go ahead.”

The stench wafting from the trash made Tigerheart feel sick. “No, thanks.” If he’d known this was where the rats scavenged, he’d never have chased them.

Spire shivered. “I’m getting cold. Let’s go back to the scrapcans. It smelled like there were bones in them.”

Streak’s eyes lit up. “Which cans?”

Tuna licked his lips. “We could help you look.”

“I told you not to scavenge where we scavenge.” Tigerheart unsheathed his claws.

“And I told you, this is the city. We can scavenge where we like.” Fog’s eyes suddenly darkened.

Tigerheart glimpsed menace there. These cats meant trouble. “We need borders,” he growled.

“Borders need patrolling. It sounds like a lot of effort.” Fierce flicked raindrops from her ears.

“She’s right,” Fog sniffed. “It would be better to spend the time scavenging.”

Tuna whisked his tail nonchalantly. “The city is full of cats. It’s pointless making boundaries.”

Spire agreed. “We’d just have more to fight over. I don’t want to waste herbs treating battle wounds.”

“Live and let live.” Fierce headed toward the tunnel.

“Life’s too short to bother with grudges.” Fog headed up the slope, Tuna and Streak at her tail. Spire and Ant padded after Fierce.

Tigerheart watched them go. “I don’t trust her,” he told Dovewing.

“Who? Fog?” Dovewing blinked at him. “She’s just another stray. You know what city cats are like. They like an easy life.”

“An easy life.” Tigerheart snorted. “There’s no such thing.”

“The guardian cats seem to have a pretty easy time.”

“They need to learn to defend themselves.”

“Why fight if you don’t have to?” Dovewing touched her nose to Tigerheart’s cheek. “I know you miss your Clan. But we’re not going to change these cats. Why bother trying?”

She turned and followed Fierce, Ant, and Spire.

Why fight if you don’t have to? Tigerheart stared after her. Of course they’d have to, one day. The city was crowded. There was little space to roam or scavenge undisturbed. Sooner or later, they’d find themselves competing for the same scrapcans. With so many cats and no borders, eventually their lives would descend into an endless running battle.

Icy rain soaked deeper into his fur. Why did city cats have so little honor? They were hardly better than foxes. And Dovewing was starting to agree with them. His heart ached. He missed the warrior code. He missed feeling proud at the end of a hard day’s patrolling. Was he the only cat here who saw himself as more than a scavenger?

“Why are there more nests now?” Lightkit looked out from beneath the ledge that sheltered their nest, while behind her, Shadowkit chased Pouncekit around its wooden legs.

Tigerheart followed the kit’s gaze to the two new heaps of furless pelts, which Bracken, Boots, and Spire had assembled. “Mittens and Rascal found two sick cats while they were out scavenging yesterday. They brought them back so the medicine cats can look after them.”

Lightkit blinked at him. “How come you call them medicine cats when everyone else calls them healers?”

“Because that’s what we call healers back home,” Tigerheart explained.

Pouncekit skidded to a halt beside them. Shadowkit bundled after her, his tiny paws slipping on the shiny floor.

“Dovewing says that home is such a long way away it would take days and days to walk there,” Pouncekit mewed.

“Will we ever go there?” Lightkit asked eagerly.

Shadowkit shifted his paws. “It’s dark in the forest.”

Tigerheart glanced at him sharply. How did he know what the forest was like? Tigerheart had talked of trees and prey, but not of light and shadow. And the kit had spoken solemnly, as though his words carried hidden meaning. This one will see into the shadows. Spire’s words rang in his mind. Did Shadowkit know something? Had shadows swallowed his Clan? Tigerheart swallowed back fear. Don’t be dumb! How could a kit know what was happening in ShadowClan? He’d never even been there. Dovewing had probably told the kits how dark the pine forest could be. It probably did seem dark to her. She was ThunderClan after all. “The woods are shadowy,” he conceded. “But when you train to be warriors, you’ll find the shadows are your friend. You can hide in shadows, or keep cool in them, or shelter there from bad weather.”

“I don’t want to hide in shadows.” Lightkit gazed up at the clear stretches of wall. Blue sky showed beyond. “I like sunshine.”

Pouncekit padded toward the middle of the den. “Can we go and look at the new cats?”

“No,” Tigerheart told him. “They’re sick. Leave them in peace.”

“But Spire gets to look at them,” Pouncekit argued. The healer was leaning over one of the new nests, where a black-and-white tom was wheezing.

“He’s taking care of them,” Tigerheart explained. His gaze drifted longingly toward Fierce. The tortoiseshell was padding between Cobweb, Ant, Rascal, Mittens, and Dotty. They were going on a special patrol.

Fierce and the other guardian cats had been talking excitedly about it for days. “We call it the outdoor gathering,” Fierce had told him. “Every moon, Twolegs set up ledges in the biggest stone clearing in the city and pile food on them, right out in the open, even when it’s raining or snowing. There’s smoke and some fire. The smells are delicious. It’s easy to scavenge. There are Twolegs everywhere, but no one looks at what happens under the ledges. Sometimes they drop food. Sometimes we can reach up and take it. Some of the ledges are covered with meat.” Fierce had paused to lick her lips hungrily. “Meat like you’ve probably never seen or smelled before. We always feast well after the outdoor gathering.”