“The kits!”
Dovewing’s alarmed cry jerked Tigerheart from his doze. He opened his eyes and saw her, pelt still ruffled from sleep, scanning the gathering-place den frantically. “Pouncekit! Shadowkit! Lightkit! Where are you?”
“They’re too small to reach the entrance by themselves.” Tigerheart lifted his head, irritated at being woken unnecessarily. “They’re probably just playing hide-and-seek again.”
Tigerheart and Dovewing had drifted to sleep in a pool of afternoon sunshine, their bellies full after a meal of Twoleg scraps. Now the sky outside had turned pink as afternoon slid into twilight.
Dovewing stared at him, round-eyed. “No, they can reach the ledge now! I caught them sniffing the entrance yesterday.”
Tigerheart scrambled to his paw. Had they grown so much? Only a few days had passed since the Twolegs had carried away the traps. With the foxes gone and Fog and her friends back at their old camp, life had returned to its easy routine.
“Blaze!” Dovewing crossed the den to where the ginger-and-white kit was nipping herbs from a twig. “Have you seen the kits?”
Blaze looked up. “Sorry,” he mewed, spitting out leaf flecks. “I’ve been busy. I didn’t notice.”
“Fierce? Mittens?” They were lounging at the far end of the den. “Have you seen my kits?”
Fierce jumped to her paws. “Are they missing?”
“I can’t see them anywhere.”
Mittens glanced at the entrance. “Have you looked outside?”
Tigerheart saw Dovewing’s pelt bush. He hurried to her side. “Let’s go and look.”
“Do you want help?” Cinnamon ducked out from her nest beneath a pile of Twoleg clutter.
“I’ll come too.” Pipsqueak left a half-chewed bone and padded to join them.
“What if they’ve wandered onto a Thunderpath?” Dovewing fretted.
“They’re too smart.” Pipsqueak jumped up to the entrance.
Cinnamon hopped after the brown-and-white tom. “I can smell their scent here,” she mewed. “I’m surprised no cat saw them leave.”
Pipsqueak nosed through the gap. “They probably waited until no cat was looking.”
“No, I saw them go.” Feather, the sick white she-cat, looked over the side of her nest. “But I didn’t know they weren’t allowed out.”
Tigerheart paused. He’d never told the kits not to go outside. He’d assumed they were too small to reach the entrance. He looked at Dovewing. “Did you tell them not to go out without us?”
Dovewing blinked at him. “Did you?”
Tigerheart’s pelt prickled guiltily. “I should have.” He was angry with himself for not thinking of it, and angry at being stuck in the city. He shouldn’t need to explain such simple rules to kits. In the Clan, no kit was allowed out of camp. Every cat knew the rule. Few kits dared to break it. They knew their apprenticeship might be held back for a moon as punishment.
“We have to find them.” Dovewing brushed past him and jumped up to the entrance. He scrambled after her.
They won’t have strayed beyond the hedge, surely? Tigerheart reassured himself as he slid outside. A heavy dew had already settled on the grass. The clear sky promised a chilly night. The dew would soon turn to frost. Dovewing was already nosing around the stone slabs. Pipsqueak and Cinnamon were ranging farther, sniffing the stone boundary that edged the stretch of grass on this side of the gathering place.
Tigerheart pricked his ears as he heard Twolegs murmuring. He jerked his nose around. A small group was clustered around one of the slabs at the end of the gathering place. They meowed quietly to each other. Tigerheart scanned the grass. Had the kits been mouse-brained enough to stray near them?
“I see them!” Dovewing’s relieved mew rang through the air. Tigerheart followed her gaze and saw Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit sitting like starlings in the branch of a tree at the edge of the grass. Dovewing bounded toward them.
Tigerheart chased after her. “Thanks,” he called to Cinnamon and Pipsqueak who had turned to look. “We can get them down.”
Cinnamon turned anxiously toward the cluster of Twolegs. “Do you want us to distract them?”
“No.” Tigerheart slowed. “It’s probably best if you and Pipsqueak go back inside. If the Twolegs see too many cats, they might bring their traps back.”
Cinnamon dipped her head and beckoned to Pipsqueak with a flick of her tail. Skirting the Twolegs, they headed back toward the den entrance.
“What are you doing up there?” Dovewing called.
Pouncekit looked down, breaking into a purr as Tigerheart reached Dovewing. “Look at us!” she squeaked. “We climbed up all by ourselves.”
Tigerheart frowned at the excited kit. “Have you planned how you’re going to get down?”
Pouncekit’s face fell as she looked toward the ground. She nudged Lightkit. “Look!” Her sister wobbled on the branch. She was straining to see the Twolegs. Pouncekit nudged her again. “Dovewing and Tigerheart are here.”
Lightkit looked down, her eyes lighting up as she saw them. “We’re watching the Twolegs.”
Shadowkit peered over the edge. Guilt flashed in his eyes as he met Tigerheart’s stern gaze. “We weren’t going to be long. But Pouncekit said that the Twolegs were being weird.”
“They’ve dug a hole in the ground and they’ve put something in it,” Pouncekit mewed excitedly. “What do you think they’re hiding? It looks big. Perhaps it’s something special they want to keep safe during ice-chill.”
“Leaf-bare,” Tigerheart corrected tetchily. She sounded like a stray.
Lightkit’s fur was spiked with excitement. “They’ve gathered flowers and put them all around the hole. It looks pretty.”
As she spoke, Shadowkit’s eyes widened in alarm. A Twoleg kit had broken away from the cluster and was running toward them.
“Quick!” Tigerheart ordered. “Come down from there. We have to go inside.”
“But we’re safe here.” Pouncekit watched the Twoleg kit running closer. “Why don’t you jump up?”
Tigerheart turned toward the Twoleg kit and arched his back. He hissed loudly, flattening his ears.
The kit stopped, alarm sparking in its tiny eyes.
A big Twoleg hurried after it, holding out a paw and mewling. It pulled the kit away.
Tigerheart jerked his gaze back toward Pouncekit. “We have to get back inside right now,” he meowed sternly. “Do you want the Twolegs to start leaving traps for us again?”
Pouncekit frowned crossly. “It’s not fair. All we ever see is the inside of the den, and we’ve explored all the Twoleg clutter in there. We want to see something new.”
Dovewing reached up the tree with her forepaws, her gaze sparking with worry as Pouncekit padded toward the trunk and began to slither down, tail first.
“Dig your claws in!” Dovewing gasped as Pouncekit slipped suddenly and her hindquarters thumped against the bark.
“I’m digging!” Pouncekit puffed as she clung to the trunk like a squirrel and eased herself down, a muzzle-length at a time.
Dovewing grabbed her scruff as soon as it was within reach and plopped her on the ground. “Stay there,” she meowed firmly, and looked up toward Lightkit. “Your turn.”
While Dovewing watched Lightkit, Tigerheart frowned crossly at Pouncekit. “You’re not meant to leave the den without us.”
Pouncekit stared back at him, her dark amber eyes wide. “But why? The traps are gone.”
“What if the Twolegs put them back?” Tigerheart challenged.
Pouncekit narrowed her eyes petulantly. “It’s not fair,” she mewed. “You’re only yelling at me because I was the first one to come down. But being the first to come down was good, wasn’t it?” She looked up at Shadowkit, who was waiting while Lightkit slid clumsily down the trunk. “He’s still there, and you’re not yowling at him.”
“I’m not yowling at any of you.” Tigerheart swallowed back frustration. “I’m just telling you that you’re not allowed outside without Dovewing or me.”
“Ever?” Pouncekit frowned. Lightkit squeaked as Dovewing grabbed her scruff and dropped her on the grass. Pouncekit turned her head and stared indignantly at her sister. “Tigerheart says we’re never allowed to leave the den ever.”
“Ever?” Horror sparked in Lightkit’s gaze. “That’s not fair! The other cats go out all the time.”
“I didn’t say ever.” Tigerheart’s pelt prickled irritably. He wondered if the kits would be so argumentative if they’d been raised in a Clan. He felt sure that he’d never argued with Rowanstar like this when he was a kit.
Dovewing was staring into the tree, where Shadowkit was teetering nervously in the crook of a branch. “You’re going to have to go up and get him,” she meowed.
Pouncekit looked at her brother disdainfully. “Poor Shadowkit. He’s such a scaredy-mouse.”
Tigerheart padded to the foot of the tree. Hooking his claws into the bark, he hauled himself up until he was level with Shadowkit. Then he grabbed the kit’s scruff and let himself slide carefully down, balancing Shadowkit on his chest.
As he reached the ground, Shadowkit leaped onto the grass. “I didn’t need help.” He shook out his pelt. “I was just planning my route so I didn’t look as clumsy as Pouncekit and Lightkit.” He glared at his sisters.
Dovewing whisked her tail. “Come on,” she ordered. “Let’s go inside.”
“Can’t we explore some more first?” Lightkit pleaded.
Dovewing pointed her muzzle toward the cluster of black-pelted Twolegs. “Not while they’re here.”
Lightkit huffed and began to march toward the den. Pouncekit followed, and Shadowkit hurried at their heels.
Dovewing caught Tigerheart’s eye. “At least they’re adventurous.” Her whiskers twitched suddenly with amusement.
Relieved they were safe, Tigerheart touched his muzzle to hers. “They’re going to be fine warriors one day.”
“Yes.” Dovewing purred and followed the kits.
Tigerheart glanced across the grass, wondering how long he would have to wait before they could take the kits back to the Clans. The den was clearly no longer enough to keep them occupied. But outside, the city was full of danger. They should be in the forest, learning the difference between a mouse and a shrew, and which birds woke them in the morning and sang them to sleep at night.
As his mind wandered, he noticed Spire. The healer was sitting a few slabs away, gazing at the Twolegs. As Dovewing guided the kits through the gap beside the clear stretch of wall, Tigerheart headed toward the skinny tom. Ducking behind slabs, he reached Spire without being spotted by the Twolegs.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered.
Spire looked at him blankly. He’s having a vision. The healer’s gaze barely focused on Tigerheart before drifting lazily back to the Twolegs.
Tigerheart shifted his paws. Should he leave Spire in peace? But what if that Twoleg kit started to nose around again? The tom probably wouldn’t notice until too late. I’ll stay and guard him.
Spire closed his eyes. He swayed, murmuring to himself. “Kits or no kits.”
Tigerheart’s belly tightened. “Spire?” What was the strange cat dreaming about?
Spire opened his eyes and stared at Tigerheart, as though expecting to see him. “You came.”
Tigerheart twitched his tail nervously. “What did you dream?”
“Dream?” Spire tipped his head. He looked confused. “I heard a voice. A voice . . . from the stars . . . meant for you.”
“Stars? For me . . . ?” Tigerheart’s pelt prickled. Spire had never mentioned stars before. Did this mean StarClan was trying to reach him through this strange cat? Should Tigerheart have gone back to ShadowClan after Spire’s first dream?
But how could I have done that? The kits . . . Anxiety began to churn in his belly. Suddenly all the worries that had suffocated him while he was in the forest seemed to swirl around him once more. “What did it say?”
Spire’s yellow gaze seemed to clear as he stared at Tigerheart. His eyes flashed as though he’d remembered something long forgotten. “I had to tell you that he needs you.”
“Who needs me?” Tigerheart leaned closer, his breath catching in his throat.
Spire didn’t seem to hear him. “The shadows are fading. He can’t keep them together.”
Alarm flared beneath Tigerheart’s pelt. Rowanstar! His father needed him. He knew it as certainly as he’d known he should be with Dovewing. There was no doubt now that StarClan was trying to reach him here in the city. . . .
They want me to go back!