Эрин Хантер - Tigerheart’s Shadow

“There’s no need to explain.” Rowanclaw’s gaze was gentle now. No recrimination flickered there. “Now that I’m with StarClan, I understand. I see it all, and everything makes sense.”

Tigerheart’s thoughts jumbled. “You’re… dead?” He felt sunshine on his pelt. A warm breeze tugged at his fur. “Is this StarClan?” Grief swamped Tigerheart, but he wasn’t sure whether it was pain at the loss of his father or at being here, separated from Dovewing and his kits. “Am I dead too?”

The ground shifted beneath him. Like night rushing in, darkness swallowed the green fields, and Tigerheart found himself engulfed by water. It pulled him down into depths that pressed against his pelt and filled his ears and nose. He twisted, trying to haul himself to the surface. Orange fur moved beside him. Rowanstar?

No. The face that floated before him in the cloudy water belonged to Flametail. His brother’s eyes were wild with panic. Bubbles drifted from his mouth and nose as he thrashed in desperation, falling ever deeper into the murky gloom.

Tigerheart’s lungs burned. As panic lit every hair on fire, he opened his eyes. He was beside the pond once more. Darkness was creeping across the grass, swallowing the meadows around him. Gulping for air, he tried to draw in a shuddering breath. Pain clamped his chest. “I can’t breathe,” he gasped.

Dovewing crouched beside him, fear sharpening her green gaze. Ant and Cinnamon stared in horror. Cloverfoot, Rippletail, and Sparrowtail watched with dark, round eyes while Berryheart tried to shield her kits.

“ShadowClan.” Tigerheart felt darkness pressing at the edges of his thoughts. Rowanstar was dead. So much was left undone. “ShadowClan must survive.” He stared desperately at Rippletail. “You have to save it.”

Dovewing trembled, pressing her flank against his. “Don’t die,” she whimpered. “Please don’t die.”

Shadowkit buried his nose in Tigerheart’s fur. Pouncekit and Lightkit clung to his neck.

“Take the kits to ThunderClan.” Tigerheart breathed the words and could not draw in air for more. I always loved you. Peace flooded him. Pain melted. Dovewing. He regretted nothing except that he would never see his kits grow into warriors. I’ll watch them from StarClan. Like a warrior releasing prey, he let go his grip and allowed darkness to swallow him.

Tigerheart shifted on his side. He felt the familiar crunch of pine needles beneath his flank. The scent of sap filled his nose, and he was suddenly aware that he felt no pain. Relief flooded him. He opened his eyes. Pines stretched around him. Fresh brambles sprawled around their trunks. Ferns, green and bright, sprouted where the sun reached through the dark branches. I’m home.

And yet the forest was warm. The biting chill of leaf-bare had lifted. Prey-scent hung in the warm air. Confused, Tigerheart clambered to his paws. He’d closed his eyes in cold and pain.

His heart lurched as he understood. This is StarClan. He was dead. Before had been a dream, but this was real. He spun, scanning the trees. Dovewing! Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit! Grief hollowed his heart. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d promised to take them home.

He ran, skimming the forest floor, racing for sunlight filtering in at the edge of the forest. He reached it, blinking against the brightness as he broke from the trees. In meadows stretching ahead, he saw cats moving over the grass. Panic spiraled in his thoughts. Take me back!

He forced his breathing to slow. Drawing in deep breaths, he stopped himself trembling. This was the will of StarClan. He must accept it. He remembered the agony of his final moments. Did he really want to go back to that?

“Tigerheart?” A surprised mew sounded behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw, with a rush of delight, Spiresight padding from the ferns. “You made it to StarClan!” He hurried to greet the black tom, touching his nose to his cheek. “The warrior ceremony worked.”

“Yes.” Spiresight stopped in front of him. “Thank you.”

“Where are the others?” Tigerheart peered past the healer, scanning the forest behind him for more Clanmates. Euphoria suddenly welled in his chest. Why had he been so scared? He would be among old friends here. Dovewing would join him one day, and there would be no pain to endure, no cold to shiver through, no hunger, no responsibility. Here there was no need for leaders or warriors or medicine cats. There would be peace. “Where’s Rowanstar—I mean Rowanclaw—and Flametail? They’re here, right?”

Spiresight’s gaze was troubled. “You mustn’t meet them.”

Tigerheart blinked at him. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I died.”

“Look.” Spiresight brushed his paw through the pine needles coating the forest floor. As they stirred, Tigerheart saw an image shimmering below him.

He could see WindClan’s moor, crouched like a black cat against the stone cold of leaf-bare. And beyond it, the lake sparked beneath a chilly sun. This must be how birds see the land. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Look closely.” Spiresight gazed at the image.

Tigerheart peered harder and glimpsed pelts moving across the moor, trailing like ants through the faded heather. As he focused, the image grew and sharpened, closer now. He recognized the pelts. Dovewing! She staggered beside Ant while Rippletail and Sparrowtail flanked them. A shape was draped across their backs. With a jolt, Tigerheart recognized his own pelt. “They’re carrying my body!”

Behind the patrol, Berryheart carried her kits on her back, huddled deep into her fur. Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit trailed behind, hollow-eyed, while Cinnamon and Cloverfoot shielded them against the biting wind.

Pouncekit stared after Dovewing, her gaze fixed on the body across her mother’s back. Tigerheart’s chest tightened as he saw pain in the kit’s gaze. She’d never looked sad before. Shadowkit stared at his paws. Lightkit’s eyes were misted with grief. No cat spoke as they trudged slowly toward the lake.

Tigerheart blinked at Spiresight. “Why are they carrying me home?” It made no sense to make their journey harder. “They should have buried me where I died.”

Spiresight gazed back unwavering. “They are not as willing to let go of you as you are to let go of them.”

“That’s not true!” Tigerheart bridled. “I had no choice.”

Spiresight blinked at him. “You have a choice now. It’s not your time yet, Tigerheart.”

“But my body is broken. I can’t go back. It hurt so much. Don’t make me go back.” Fear sparked beneath his pelt. He couldn’t face more pain.

“What about your kits?”

Tigerheart looked down at Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit once more. Their shoulders sagged with sorrow only a grown cat should know. Grief crushed his heart. “Dovewing is strong,” he told Spiresight. “She’s a great mother. She can raise them in ThunderClan, and they will never feel the pull between Clans that we did.”

Spiresight stared back bleakly. “Without ShadowClan, there can be no ThunderClan, no WindClan, no RiverClan, no SkyClan. Five Clans or none. ShadowClan needs you, Tigerheart. It’s not your time to die. You have to go back.”

Tigerheart stared at the healer, his thoughts whirling. Below there was pain and struggle and responsibility. Everything that had weighed his paws while he was alive still waited for him. But so did Dovewing and their kits. Was a life with them worth the hardship of living? Tigerheart pushed away the beguiling murmur that whispered of the prey-rich forest behind him and the sun-drenched meadows ahead. Comfort was for kits. Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit deserved to be safe, warm, and well fed. I am a warrior. It is my duty to suffer for them. He dipped his head. “You’re right,” he breathed. “It is not my time. I want to go back.”