“How?” Dovewing blinked at him, concern glittering in her green eyes.
“He dreamed about a shadow and a falling tree. The tree cut through the shadow, and he could see light beyond.”
Dovewing flicked her tail impatiently. “I suppose you think that has something to do with ShadowClan.”
“Perhaps it does.”
“Why? Spire’s not a medicine cat. And these cats all live so far away from the Clans, they had no idea we even existed. Why would StarClan speak to him?”
“Perhaps because they want to reach me here.”
Dovewing rolled her eyes. “Because you’re so important to ShadowClan.”
Anger sparked in Tigerheart’s pelt. “I am important to ShadowClan. I’m their deputy, remember?”
“You were their deputy,” she reminded him. “But you gave all that up to be here with me.”
Not forever. He searched Dovewing’s gaze. Did she really think they would never go home?
She blinked back at him, doubt furrowing her brow. “You did give it up, didn’t you?”
Guilt jabbed Tigerheart’s belly. “I wanted to find you. . . .”
Her green eyes blazed angrily. “So you could bring me back?”
“No!” he yelped. “Well, yes . . . I don’t know, exactly! I just knew that I wanted to be with you.” His head drooped as he kneaded the ground in confusion.
“You can be with me here.”
Tigerheart felt like a huge paw was pushing down on his head. He couldn’t bear to look up at her, because he feared what he would see in her eyes. Disappointment? Betrayal?
“Tigerheart?” She was searching his gaze now, fear sparking in her eyes. “You gave up ShadowClan to be here with me, right?”
Grief swept through him like a storm tearing through forest. “I . . . I guess I didn’t know it might be forever,” he meowed helplessly.
“And now because some cat has a dream,” she hissed, “you want to go back? I seem to remember it was not so long ago that you weren’t taking dreams quite so seriously.”
Tigerheart felt a pang of guilt, but stood up straight and looked at her. “Do you really believe we can stay away from our Clans forever? Can you really raise our kits here? They’ll never know what it’s like to have Clanmates, or to have a mentor, or to be willing to fight for their territory.” He stared at her. “You want to raise our kits as strays?”
Pain flashed suddenly across Dovewing’s face.
Tigerheart’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he yowled, pressing himself against her. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. . . .”
Dovewing gasped and staggered. “It’s not that, you mouse-brain!”
Panic flashed in her eyes. She shot him a desperate look as she dropped into a crouch. Heart pounding in his ears, he scanned the den for a healer.
Fierce was already crossing the floor toward them. She flicked her tail toward Spire. “Dovewing needs help.”
Spire hurried to join her.
“What’s wrong with her?” Tigerheart wailed as they reached him.
Dovewing panted beside him. “The kits are coming.”
Terrified, Tigerheart turned to Spire. “Is it time?”
Spire blinked at him calmly. “I think that your kits have decided it is.”
CHAPTER 18
Fierce guided Tigerheart away as Spire helped Dovewing to her nest.
“She needs me.” Tigerheart looked at her, contorted with pain as she slumped among the furless pelts.
“The healers will take care of her.” Fierce nodded to Peanut, who was already hurrying toward the sound of Dovewing’s wailing. “Peanut’s had kits of her own, and she’s helped cats in their kitting before.” She blinked gently at Tigerheart. “We get a lot of queens through here. Spire and Peanut know what they’re doing.”
“I want to be with her.” Tigerheart’s chest was so tight he could hardly find his breath.
“First you need to calm down.” Fierce fixed her gaze on his, her eyes shimmering. “I know it’s your first litter, but it will be okay.”
“It’s my fault she started kitting.” Guilt surged beneath his pelt. “I upset her.”
“If a queen started kitting every time some cat upset them, there’d be a lot of unexpected deliveries,” Fierce soothed.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Tigerheart’s thoughts whirled. Why in StarClan had he mentioned Puddleshine’s dream? Dovewing already had so much to worry about right now.
“Tigerheart!” Dovewing’s cry cut into his thoughts.
He jerked his muzzle toward her. She was glaring at him, pain glittering in her fierce gaze. “Stop sitting there like a rabbit and do something useful!” She gasped as Peanut leaned into the nest and stroked her belly with a paw.
Tigerheart stared in panic. “What can I do?”
“Fetch me a stick to bite on,” Dovewing panted. “I don’t want these cats to hear me squealing like a kit!”
Tigerheart nodded and hurried to the gap in the wall. He scrambled outside, then raced to the tall chestnut tree he’d sat under with Spire. The Twolegs were still yowling inside. A monster rumbled past. White clouds dotted the sky. Tigerheart scanned the grass, spotting a sturdy stick lying beneath the tree. He bent down and bit it, relieved to feel it firm between his jaws. No bark splintered from the smooth stem. It would be perfect for Dovewing. Quickly he carried it back to the cavern, struggling to maneuver it into the gap. He pushed it through, end first, and it fell onto the ledge and bounced on the floor.
Fierce and Rascal turned to watch it tumble to a halt. Blaze hurried across the cavern and stood beside it. “What’s this for?” he asked as Tigerheart landed next to it.
“It’s for Dovewing.” Tigerheart snatched it up and carried it toward Dovewing’s nest.
“What does she need a stick for?” Blaze followed him.
“To bite on.” Tigerheart struggled to speak through the stick. He dropped it beside the nest. “It will help with the pain.”
Blaze stopped beside him and stared at Dovewing. Peanut had climbed into the nest and was soothing her with gentle laps behind her ears. Spire leaned in and ran his paws over her belly. Dovewing convulsed, a spasm jerking her body. “Why do cats have kits?” Blaze asked.
Spire turned from Dovewing and met the tom-kit’s gaze. “Blaze,” he meowed softly. “Dovewing will need water. Find a rag and soak it under the drip-pipe. Then bring it here. But wait until it’s dripping wet before you bring it back.”
Blaze nodded earnestly, then hurried away.
Tigerheart stared at Dovewing as another spasm gripped her. “Is she okay?”
Dovewing shot him a look. “Where’s the stick?” she growled between gritted teeth.
He pushed it hurriedly into the nest and she clamped her jaws around it and groaned as another spasm made her stiffen. She shuddered, then jerked.
Spire broke into a purr as a small, wet sac slid into the nest behind her. Quickly he nipped the sac’s membrane with his teeth and peeled the bundle of slick fur from inside. He placed it beside Dovewing’s cheek. “Meet your firstborn.”
Dovewing let go of the stick and, purring loudly, lapped at the tiny kit as it squirmed and mewled beside her.
“You have a daughter.” Spire blinked at Tigerheart happily.
Tigerheart stared at the kit, hardly able to believe his eyes. This small scrap of fur was what all the heartache and worry of the past two moons had been about. His heart seemed to swell until joy burst from his throat in a purr. “She’s beautiful.” How could he have ever doubted that he should be here with Dovewing? He thrust his muzzle close to hers, nuzzling first the kit and then her cheek.
She purred too, their gaze meeting as she turned her head to press her nose against his. “She’s so soft and—” A spasm cut her off. She nudged Tigerheart away, tucked the kit close to her chest, and clamped her teeth around the stick once more. Jerking, she groaned, and another kit dropped into the nest.
“A s
on,” Spire mewed happily, placing the soggy bundle beside the first.
Tigerheart watched as Dovewing bit down once more on the stick.
“Another daughter.” Spire placed a third kit beside the others. He ran his paw over Dovewing’s belly. “That’s the whole litter.” He sat back on his haunches and looked at Peanut.
Peanut purred. “It’s always good to help with kitting after taking care of so many sick and wounded cats.” Her gaze wandered to Marigold’s nest, which was empty.
Tigerheart looked at it. Boots, the one-eyed cat, was dragging the bundle of furless pelts apart and shaking them out with his teeth. “Where’s Marigold?”
Spire nudged Tigerheart away and lowered his voice. “She died last night,” he whispered. “She’s free from her suffering now.”
Tigerheart began to feel a felt a pang of sadness, but Peanut’s mew distracted him.
“You did well.” Peanut dipped her head to Dovewing. As Tigerheart hurried back to the nest side, the tortoiseshell padded away.
Spire followed her, and Tigerheart was suddenly very aware that he was alone with Dovewing and their three newborn kits. His fur prickled uneasily. What was he supposed to do now? Dovewing lapped the kits until their wet fur fluffed out; then she nosed them toward her belly, where they nuzzled until they found milk. Dovewing purred and curled around them. She seemed to know what to do instinctively. So did the kits. Tigerheart’s belly tightened as the huge responsibility of taking care of them gripped him. The freedom he’d felt since leaving ShadowClan seemed to evaporate like morning mist. Suddenly all the ties that had once held him were binding him again. He had left his Clan, but it had traveled with him. These kits were his to protect and to raise. They were as much a part of him as ShadowClan, and he was part of them.
Dovewing looked at him, her eyes sleepy and filled with love. “Aren’t they perfect?”
“Yes.” Tigerheart crouched awkwardly beside the nest and stretched his muzzle in to sniff them. In the shadow beneath the ledge, he could see their colors now. One she-kit was gray, like Dovewing, the other tabby like him, and the tom-kit was a gray tabby, with wide dark stripes along his flanks. They smelled warm and sweet. The tom-kit mewled indignantly as Tigerheart lapped his rabbit-soft fur, and pressed closer to Dovewing’s belly. “I don’t think he likes me,” Tigerheart murmured anxiously.
“Of course he does. You’re his father.” Dovewing touched a paw to Tigerheart’s cheek, and the tenderness in her touch made him feel guilty all over again about their argument.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you about Puddleshine’s dream. But I couldn’t lie to you. You have to believe that you are the most important thing in my life, but without my loyalty to my Clan, what would I be?”
She gazed at him softly. “I know. Your loyalty makes you who you are. And I know you will love our kits with the same fierce loyalty with which you love your Clan. I love you, Tigerheart. I would have loved you even if you hadn’t followed me here. I will always love you.” She paused, her green eyes shining. “Not just because you’re the father of my kits, but because you’re you. I’m sorry I made you choose between your Clan and me. No cat should ever have to make that choice. I was scared of facing this alone. I’ve been a coward.”
“No!” He licked her cheek fiercely, his heart bursting with pride. “You’ve been brave. So very brave. And I would have loved you too, even if my Clan had kept me from you. Nothing could stop the way I feel about you.”
She returned his gaze steadily. “We will always love each other. But we have a responsibility to our Clans and to our kits. We are warriors—”
Tigerheart cut in: “And our kits will be warriors too.”
Dovewing nodded. “They will be raised in a Clan.”
Tigerheart searched Dovewing’s gaze, relieved to find agreement shining in their green depths. “Yes,” he purred.
Dovewing purred too and then added, “But first they must be weaned and grow strong enough to travel.”
“They’re not going into the belly of a Thundersnake,” Tigerheart meowed firmly.
“No.” Dovewing gave a mrrow of amusement. “Thundersnakes can fill their bellies with Twolegs. Our kits will walk.”
Tigerheart saw tiredness in her eyes. “You must be exhausted. Sleep now and I will keep watch.”
Dovewing blinked at him gratefully, then cast her gaze across the cavern. The guardian cats sat in groups, sharing prey. Mittens was leading Pipsqueak and Blaze out through the entrance. Fierce dozed in a strip of sunshine. “There’s no need to keep watch,” she mewed sleepily. “They’ll keep watch for us.” She closed her eyes and let her chin rest on her paws. The kits had grown still and were purring softly.
Tigerheart rested his head on the side of the nest, contentment enfolding him like a warm breeze. As he watched Dovewing sleep, he heard paw steps behind him. He lifted his head and looked around.
Spire was padding toward him. The clear, bright gaze he’d had while he’d helped with Dovewing’s kitting had given way to the glazed look Tigerheart had seen in the tom’s yellow eyes when they first met. Was he having one of his visions?
Tigerheart sat up, blocking the way to his kits. “Spire? Are you okay?”
Spire peered past him, staring directly at the dark gray tom-kit. His fur ruffled along his spine. “This one will see into the shadows.”
Tigerheart tensed. “What do you mean?”
Spire looked at him vacantly, then padded away.
Tigerheart shook out his fur, irritated by the uneasy feeling Spire had awoken beneath his pelt. Don’t be silly. He’s not a medicine cat. He stared after Spire. But why did he speak of shadows again? Did this tom have some strange connection with ShadowClan? Was StarClan speaking through him?
Tigerheart shifted his paws nervously. He glanced up at the flat white roof, wondering if StarClan could see them here. We’ll come home as soon as we can, he promised. Turning to gaze once more at Dovewing and their kits, he leaned down and breathed in their scent. His heart ached with love, and he settled beside the nest and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER 19
Hurry up. Tigerheart glanced down the alley to where Cobweb, Mittens, and Fierce had stopped to drink from a puddle. It was bad enough they had to scavenge for scraps even Twolegs didn’t want; did they have to take so long? There were no mouthwatering prey scents carried on fresh forest breezes here. Tigerheart wanted to get the patrol over with.
The laid-back life of the guardian cats no longer felt like a relief. It had begun to irritate him. Scavenging was all they did now. In the two moons since Shadowkit, Pouncekit, and Lightkit had been born, leaf-fall had hardened into leaf-bare. Prey had become scarce, and the guardian cats relied on Twoleg scraps more and more. This morning, Tigerheart had woken to a hard frost, which had turned the clear walls of the gathering-place den into patterned ice. And yet when he’d followed the others out into the streets, the city lacked the stone-cold chill of the forest, holding a warmth of its own like a huge living creature.
Fierce had suggested they take a tour of their favorite scrapcans, clustered in the alleys that ran behind the rows of dens. Tigerheart had offered to come, as he always did. He owed the guardian cats his loyalty. But he secretly hoped that he would find a mouse or bird to take home to Lightkit, Pouncekit, and Shadowkit. Weaned now, they were eager for food, and Tigerheart hated that they had only tasted Twoleg scraps. What if they didn’t grow up to be strong? City strays were agile and wily, but none of them were as well-muscled as a forest cat. He’d hunted around the gathering place, but in the city there was always the sudden rumble of a monster or the thumping paws of a passing Twoleg to scare prey before he could finish stalking it. He hadn’t caught anything for half a moon. He guessed that was why the guardian cats weren’t even trying to hunt now. Besides, the scrapcans were overflowing, even as the weather grew harsher. He remembered with a pang the anxious days of leaf-bare in the forest, when catching a single rabbit bro
ught joy to the whole Clan because it meant a warm night’s sleep on a full belly.
These cats have no idea what it is to go hungry, Tigerheart thought as he watched Cobweb shake puddle water from his whiskers and Fierce lap a few more sour mouthfuls. He wondered if they had ever been truly cold. The gathering-place den had grown chilly, but it was sheltered from wind and free of the drafts that would be slicing through gaps in the walls and dens of the ShadowClan camp now. It was easy to warm up in the furless-pelt nests.
In the past two moons, he’d learned city words like alley, street, and scrapcan; he’d grown accustomed to monsters and had learned to dart between them with ease as they crawled between the dens. He hardly noticed the Twolegs now as he wove between their legs on patrol.
This was the only world his kits knew. They’d never seen forests and streams and real prey. He wondered how long it would be before Dovewing agreed that they were old enough to make the journey home. By the time they reached the lake, would they be able to adjust to warrior life?
His pelt ruffled uneasily at the thought and he pushed it away. There would be plenty of time for them to learn to become warriors. But what if this first glimpse of life stayed with them? What if they always found warrior ways strange?
“I’m going on hunting patrol,” he’d told Pouncekit before he’d left.
She’d blinked at him. “Don’t you mean scavenging?” she’d asked. “That’s what the others call it.”
“Scavenging is like hunting,” Dovewing had answered quickly as Tigerheart’s pelt ruffled, then added, “Tigerheart used to be the best hunter in ShadowClan.”
Pouncekit didn’t seem to hear. “Why don’t warriors scavenge like city cats?”
Tigerheart stared at her. What could he say? That warriors had more pride and more skill? That they kept their distance from Twolegs, and definitely didn’t eat their scraps? He didn’t want to insult the guardian cats. But he wanted Pouncekit to understand what it meant to be a warrior.