Dovewing’s eyes misted with grief. “Someone has to help him!” She looked at the stars. “This can’t be happening.”
Tigerheart struggled to speak. So little breath! I’m sorry. For a moment, grief clouded the pain that scorched from his belly to his chest. He was breaking Dovewing’s heart. And the kits’. They watched, their eyes round with fear. He tried to meet their gaze.
“You saved Hollowkit.” Berryheart’s breath bathed his muzzle. She was leaning close. “How can I ever thank you?”
For a moment, the memory flashed in Tigerheart’s mind. Hollowkit had weighed so little when he’d pushed him clear of the owl’s talons. Terror flooded him as he remembered the claws curling around his flanks and the ground falling away. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts, wishing he could block out the pain, seeking the refuge of sleep.
“No!” Paws shook him. Dovewing was glaring into his eyes. “You mustn’t sleep!” Determination hardened her gaze. Grief was gone. Her green eyes were clear with purpose. “We’re going to get you to a medicine cat.”
“How?” Rippletail gasped in shock.
Dovewing ignored the tabby tom. She was glaring at Shadowkit. “How far is it to the lake?”
“I d-don’t know.” Shadowkit flinched from her. “There’s the Twolegplace and the water and the moor.”
“Tigerheart said no more than two days’ walk,” Cloverfoot reminded her.
Dovewing was still glaring at Shadowkit. “Is that what it looked like in your dream?” she snapped.
Pouncekit darted to her brother’s side. “Don’t scare him.” She stared defiantly at her mother. “He’ll help if he can.”
Dovewing shifted her paws, taking a deep, slow breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Shadowkit.”
Tigerheart could hear that she was forcing herself to be calm. She blurred in front of him. The frozen forest seemed to whisper around him. He could smell frost and imagined it creeping across the grass toward him. He pictured it stealing over his body and drawing the last drop of warmth from his pelt. Tiredness pulled him deeper into the earth.
“Stay awake, Tigerheart.” Dovewing’s muzzle was beside his. Her voice was soft. “We’re going to save you. I can’t lose you. Not after all we’ve been through. There’s so much left for us to do together. Our future is beside the lake. We always knew that. I won’t let that future be snatched away from us now.” Her gaze fixed on his. “Do you want to live?”
“Yes.” He shuddered as he breathed.
“Then you have to get to your paws.” She straightened and swished her tail. “We have to leave now. We’re going to the lake.”
“He can’t walk that far!” Sparrowtail’s eyes widened.
Cloverfoot stepped forward. “He can if we help him.”
“It’s his only chance.” Dovewing looked around the cats, her eyes glittering as though half pleading, half demanding. Tigerheart felt a rush of love for her and pushed himself to his paws. He swallowed back the agonized wail that wanted to escape from his throat. He wasn’t going to let his kits know how much he hurt.
Rippletail leaned against one flank. Sparrowtail pressed against the other. Together they lifted him so that his paws barely skimmed the grass as they began to walk forward. Blind with pain as they moved him, he tried to focus. Trapped in a tunnel of agony, he kept his gaze ahead. The tunnel would end with the lake. He had to make it.
He lost sense of time. Earth passing beneath his paws. Flashes of starlight. Staggering pain. The brush of fresh pelts against his flanks as the other cats took turns to support him. And then dawn. Light seeped across the land. He half expected the rising sun to lift the white-hot agony from his limbs. But the pain stayed, obscuring his thoughts, blocking his gaze.
How long could he bear it? Sometimes he closed his eyes and let his campmates carry him, but each time, Dovewing thrust her muzzle against his and hissed, “You can’t sleep, Tigerheart. Wake up!”
There was such power in her mew. He fed off it like a starving kit, sucking strength from her, holding it deep inside. For a few wonderful moments, it even blocked the pain.
And then he could smell water. “The lake?” He grunted as his campmates lowered him gently to the ground. He gazed across the grass. Birch trees lined a small stretch of water. Hope flickered in his chest.
“We’re not there yet.” Dovewing was beside him. “But look.” She lifted his chin toward the horizon. A hill rose from the valley, and he recognized WindClan’s moor, bending its back toward the sky like the spine of a cat. Through the stabbing in his chest, he felt joy flood his heart. “Home,” he whispered.
He felt Dovewing’s cheek warm against his. “Home,” she breathed.
“Why have we stopped?” Tigerheart tried to make out the others. They were padding away, into the long grass that surrounded the water.
“They’ve gone to hunt,” Dovewing told him. “We need to eat.”
“The kits?” He looked around, searching for Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit. They were crouching in the grass a few tail-lengths away. “Come here,” he called hoarsely.
They looked up and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“It’s all right.” Dovewing reassured them softly. “You can come near.”
Tigerheart saw reluctance in their movements as they padded toward him. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Are you dying?” Pouncekit asked tremulously as she reached him.
He reached a paw out to touch hers. “I can’t die now.” He fought for air. “Home is so near.”
“You’ll get well, won’t you?” Lightkit’s eyes misted with fear.
Shadowkit pressed against his flank. “You promised to show us the pine forest.”
“I still will,” Tigerheart promised, focusing through a fresh wave of pain.
Berryheart hovered nearby, her kits clustering around her. “I can try to find some poppy seeds,” she meowed hopefully. “They’ll be hard to find in leafbare, but they’d help his pain.”
“No,” Dovewing meowed sharply. “Poppy seeds would make him sleep. He mustn’t sleep.”
As she spoke, Blaze bounded toward her, a mouse dangling from his jaws. He dropped it in front of her. “For Tigerheart,” he meowed. “To give him strength.” He headed back into the long grass.
Dovewing settled beside Tigerheart and began carefully to strip flesh from the mouse’s carcass.
Tigerheart smelled the warm scent of fresh-kill. “Share it with the kits,” he murmured. “They like mouse.”
Dovewing was chewing a lump of meat. She took it from between her teeth with her paw and pressed it to Tigerheart’s mouth as though he were a kit. “Eat it,” she ordered.
He took the morsel and let it sit on his tongue. He closed his eyes as he struggled to swallow. Pain seared his flanks at the effort. He turned his face away as Dovewing tried to give him more. “Give it to the kits.”
Exhausted, he closed his eyes.
“Don’t sleep!” Dovewing pulled his muzzle toward her. She searched his gaze desperately, as though reaching for something she could not see. “Remember before the cats of the Dark Forest came, when we used to meet on the ShadowClan border?”
He struggled to recall the memory as she went on.
“You were so cocky and sure of yourself.” She purred.
“You were such a goody-four-paws,” he teased, his words hardly more than a breath.
“And the time in the Dark Forest when . . .”
Her mew faded as he drifted into dream. Darkness swirled around him. Stars sparkled, and he opened his eyes and saw sunlit meadows, lush with the richness of greenleaf. His paws pressed into soft grass. Pain faded, distant now, as though pushed beyond the bright green horizon.
A tom padded over the rolling slope, his orange pelt like flame against the grass.
Tigerheart recognized him at once. His heart leaped. “Rowanstar!” His father looked so sleek and strong. He was once more the noble warrior Tigerhear
t remembered from his kithood. He hurried to meet him. “Is ShadowClan safe?”
Rowanstar stopped and met his gaze, his green eyes flashing. “I’m Rowanclaw now.”
Tigerheart frowned, confused. “Why?” How could a Clan leader lose his name?
“I forgive you for leaving.” Rowanclaw’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on Tigerheart.
Shame flashed hot beneath Tigerheart’s pelt. I left my Clan. He’d forgotten. The pain of the fall had blotted out memory. “I had to,” he blurted. “I was blocking the sun. I needed to give you space to make the shadows strong again.”
“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.
CHAPTER 35
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 t
he 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.”
As he spoke, the forest shifted and blurred. Shadows engulfed him, lifting him up until he was spinning among the stars. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for pain and cold, and drifted down onto chilly stone.
He opened his eyes. The exposed rock beneath his paws stretched toward a night sky on every side. He blinked in surprise as he saw starry cats moving around him. “StarClan?” Their pelts glittered like fire and ice, and they carried the scent of the seasons, stone-cold snow mingled with sweet blossom, leaf musk tinged with sharp sap tang.
“Tigerheart.” Rowanclaw stepped forward.
Countless eyes reflected starlight, watching as Rowanclaw padded toward Tigerheart.
“My son.” He stopped in front of Tigerheart and gazed with eyes brimming with love. “We knew this day would come.”
Tigerheart frowned, puzzled. “You knew I was going to die?”
Rowanclaw tipped his head, blinking gently. “Do you know what happens now?”
Tigerheart shifted his paws, self-conscious under the gaze of so many cats. “I’m . . . I’m being sent back. But how?”
“There is only one way a cat may receive another life.” Rowanclaw paused as Tigerheart struggled to understand.
A leadership ceremony! His pelt prickled with anxiety. “I’m not ready!” he blurted. “I’m not strong enough to lead a Clan.”
“Really?” Rowanclaw gazed deep into Tigerheart’s eyes. Memories shifted as though woken by his father’s gaze. He’d persuaded Scorchfur and Juniperclaw to stay with ShadowClan. He’d journeyed to the city to find Dovewing and his kits. He’d helped the guardian cats learn how to defend what was theirs. And he’d led his family and his friends home. Rowanclaw broke their gaze with a blink. “You will never be more ready than you are now.” He leaned forward and touched his nose to Tigerheart’s head.