Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

Fierce’s sleepy gaze sharpened suddenly. “Like what?”

Tigerheart hesitated. This would be a dangerous plan, but if it worked, it could solve all the guardian cats’ problems.

Fierce stepped out her nest and pricked her ears. “Well?”

“If we can trick the foxes into the traps—”

Mittens cut him off with a snort. “How could we do that?”

Fierce flicked her tail at the tabby irritably. “Let him finish.” Her green eyes sparkled with interest.

Tigerheart’s mind quickened as he traced out the plan. “We’d need to get Fog to show us where they are.” He hesitated, remembering Fog’s hostility yesterday. “Or Tuna. Yes. Tuna would show us.” The brown tom had wanted to go back to his old home. “Then we’d just need a small patrol to get the foxes to chase it. It could lead them here, and the rest of us could lead them into the traps.”

Mitten’s pelt bristled. “They’d kill us.”

“Cats are fast,” Tigerheart argued. “And we’d know where we were running. We could choose a route that would be hard for a fox’s clumsy paws.”

Rascal looked unconvinced. “And what if we get them here and they don’t go into the traps? We’d have led foxes right to our home for nothing!”

“We have enough cats here for two cats to take on each fox once they reach the gathering place.” Tigerheart pictured the stretch of grass around the den. “There are plenty of stone slabs to dodge around. Cats are nimble; foxes aren’t. We could easily confuse them until they don’t know where to run. Then we’d guide them to the traps. Even if we can’t drive them right inside, the scent of food might draw them in.”

“That Twoleg mush does smell tempting,” Mittens conceded.

“If my plan doesn’t work,” Tigerheart went on, “we could just hide in the den. The entrance is too small for the foxes, and they won’t stay here. There’s not much for them to scavenge. They’d probably go back to their den. But if it does work, we’ll get rid of the foxes, and Fog’s cats. And with Fog’s cats gone, if we keep a low profile for a while, the Twolegs will think they’ve gotten rid of us and stop leaving traps.”

Fierce looked from Rascal to Mittens. Her gaze was thoughtful. “There is a lot to gain.”

“It’s dangerous,” Mittens murmured.

“I can lead the foxes here,” Tigerheart offered. “But I’ll need some help.”

“I’m fast, even if I run a little wonkily,” Fierce meowed, stretching out the leg that was shorter than the others. “I’ll help.”

A mew sounded across the floor. Tigerheart turned. Ant was sitting up in his nest, his ears pricked. “I’ll come.”

Cobweb padded from the shadow of Twoleg clutter. “Me too.”

Mittens and Rascal exchanged glances.

“Okay.” Mittens sounded suddenly determined. “If you four lead the foxes here, Rascal and I will organize the rest of the group to lead them to the traps.”

Excitement pricked in Tigerheart’s paws. The guardian cats were talking like warriors! “We can do this.” He whisked his tail encouragingly. All he had to do now was persuade Tuna to show them where his old camp was.

“Tuna.” Tigerheart crouched in the long grass beside Fog’s camp. He glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds were swallowing the blue, and he smelled rain as the cold wind pierced his fur. He pricked his ears, hoping Tuna would hear him before any of the other cats. “Tuna,” he hissed again.

“What do you want?” Growler nosed his way from the bushes.

“I have a message for Tuna,” Tigerheart mewed.

Growler narrowed his eyes. “You’re up to something,” he meowed. “I’m going to fetch Fog. You can talk to her.”

Tigerheart’s belly tightened. Fog might get in the way of his plan. “No,” he meowed quickly. “I just came to tell Tuna about the new traps. I wanted to show him where they were.”

“You can show me.” As Growler glanced at the sky and shivered, Tuna peered from the bushes.

He blinked at Tigerheart. “I thought I smelled you.”

Tigerheart tried to hide his eagerness at seeing the brown tom. “I wanted to show you where the new traps were.”

Growler glanced at Tuna. “For some reason, you’re the only cat who’s allowed to know.”

“You can come too if you like.” Tigerheart forced his shoulders to loosen. He wanted to look relaxed. “You’d better hurry, though. It looks like rain.”

Growler flicked his tail. “Let Tuna get wet. I’ve got scraps to finish.”

As the black-and-white tom disappeared into the bushes, Tigerheart beckoned Tuna closer with a flick of his muzzle. “I have to talk to you,” he whispered.

Tuna frowned but followed him to the closest slab. “Is something wrong?”

“You want to go back to your old camp, right?”

Tuna eyed Tigerheart warily. “If there are no foxes.”

“I’ve got a plan to get rid of them,” Tigerheart told him. “But I need you to show me where to go.”

Tuna narrowed his eyes. “Why should I do that?”

“Because, surely, you can’t be so mouse-brained as to not realize that this would be good for every cat?” Tigerheart stared at him pleadingly. “If you don’t help, the Twolegs and their traps are going to drive us all away from here.”

“Okay.” Tuna hunched tighter against the cold wind. “Tell me your plan.”

The next morning, before dawn, Tigerheart crept out of the guardian cats’ den. The night sky was swathed in cloud. He narrowed his eyes against the rain that was gently misting the city. Fierce, Cobweb, and Ant followed as he padded across the grass. Shivering in the cold, he fluffed out his fur. Orange Twoleg light reflected eerily off the wet stone. The towering dens slept in shadow except for occasional patches of light, which showed in their walls where Twolegs were beginning to stir for the day. Tigerheart quickened his step. The foxes would have spent the night scavenging and would be heading back to their den before Twolegs took over the city. The walkways and Thunderpaths were empty now. There would be no better time to lead the foxes to the traps.

He smelled fear-scent on the guardian cats and wanted to reassure them. But he couldn’t make any promises. They’d traced out two routes yesterday with the help of Tuna. With any luck, they could split the fox pack and lead them to the gathering place in two groups. The fewer foxes each patrol had to manage, the better.

“Tigerheart!” A whispered mew sounded through the rain. A dark shape bounded toward them. It was Tuna. “I’m coming with you.”

Tigerheart felt a surge of gratitude. Not all city cats were rogues after all. “You don’t have to risk your pelt.”

“I want to help.” Tuna stopped in front of him, his eyes shimmering in the strange Twoleg light.

Ant shrugged. “It can’t do any harm.”

Tigerheart saw doubt in Fierce’s gaze.

“Can we trust him? What if he tries to confuse the foxes?” she demanded.

“Why would he do that?” Tigerheart countered. “We’re going to get his old home back.”

“And he knows the routes even better than we do,” Cobweb pointed out.

Fierce stared at Tuna for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

Tigerheart hesitated, unsure which cat should take the lead. It was his plan, and Fierce claimed that the guardian cats had no leader, but he knew the others respected her authority and he didn’t want to challenge it. Suddenly he felt like a deputy again. With a pang he thought of Rowanstar. Had his father finally found his paws and taken firm leadership of ShadowClan?

“Come on.” Tuna surprised him by heading first into the yellow light pooling beneath a pole at the side of the Thunderpath. As the brown tom passed through the light and into the shadow beyond, the others followed, glancing nervously at one another. Tigerheart fell in behind.