Tigerheart slept for a while before dawn. He had crossed the silent Thunderpath easily and let the landscape guide him because he guessed that was what Dovewing would have done. The marshland had led to fields. Hedgerows had led to valleys, which skirted hills and drew him on over farmland where ridges and hollows seemed to create natural paths. All the while he had prayed to StarClan that he was heading the right way, imagining what Dovewing might see and trying to follow her paw steps, trying not to think of the hurt that must have clouded her thoughts as she’d traveled. He had left her to make this journey alone. I’m sorry, Dovewing. I’m coming now.
The days of rain had washed all scents clean, and there was nothing to guide him but hope. As he’d sensed dawn easing the darkness, he’d found shelter in a rocky outcrop and slept. Daylight had woken him, and he’d hunted and caught a mouse. It had warmed him and refreshed his hope that Dovewing lay ahead.
He pushed on, his heart lifting as he saw clear sky opening beyond the gray clouds ahead. As he padded clear of the rain shadow that had drenched the forest for so long, sunshine warmed his pelt. Before long, he felt drier than he had for days. He fluffed out his fur happily. ShadowClan was far behind him, and with every paw step he felt lighter. The worry that had felt like a weight in his chest for so long slowly lifted. He would find Dovewing, even if he had to walk forever.
As the sun began to slide toward the horizon, throwing lazy shadows across his path, he saw a Twolegplace sprawling across the valley ahead. It cluttered the hollow between the enclosing hills with low stone nests, and he could make out a maze of Thunderpaths weaving through it. Instinct told him to go around, but where there were Twoleg nests, there were kittypets. And kittypets might know of the gorse-spined den Dovewing had seen in her dream. Fluffing his fur against the deepening chill of the afternoon, he turned his paws toward the Twolegplace.
He crossed a meadow edged by Twoleg nests. Twoleg smells reached his nose as soon as he neared the small patches of fenced land that lay behind them. Monster stench rolled over him. Strange food scents confused him. How could any cat hunt when prey-scent was hidden by such unnatural odors?
Perhaps that was why kittypets ate the food their Twolegs gave them.
As he wondered about kittypets, a thought lit him with hope. Dovewing might have come this way in search of information about the gorse-spined den, just as he had. A kittypet might have spoken to her. He’d know for sure that he was traveling in the right direction. He reached a wooden fence and jumped. Hooking in his claws, he hauled himself up, sending splinters of sharp-smelling wood showering down behind him. At the top, he warily surveyed the patches of green behind each Twoleg nest. Birds twittered in the trees, which sprouted here and there among the patches. His fur smoothed along his spine with relief. There were no Twolegs, and no scent of dog. No kittypets either. He frowned. He’d have to push deeper into the Twolegplace to find a cat to ask about Dovewing. He spotted an opening between the two closest nests, jumped down, and crossed the grass. Ears pricked, he pushed past a bush and slipped into the shadowy gap.
He crept through it, relieved to see light at the end of a stone-lined path. He hurried along it, his pelt prickling. Monsters were rumbling in the distance. The whooping of Twoleg kits pierced his ear fur. He slowed as he reached the end of the gap and peered out uneasily. A Thunderpath ran between two rows of nests. Stretches of grass, dotted by bushes and young trees, lay beside it. Had Dovewing been here? Longing seared his heart. He should have been with her. He tasted the air, wrinkling his nose. There was no familiar smell to guide him, but he couldn’t stay where he was. He darted from the shadows and hurried that way, ducking beneath a low-spreading willow as a monster growled along the Thunderpath a few tail-lengths ahead. He crouched, waiting as it passed.
His heart fluttered like a trapped bird. He just needed to find one friendly kittypet.
Suddenly an excited mrrow sounded behind him. He spun. His pelt bushed as a soft bundle of fur flew at his face. It toppled clumsily over him and knocked him off his paws. As he rolled clear, he smelled kittypet. A tom, but a young one, his scent faint. Tigerheart darted from beneath the willow, and as the kittypet chased after him, he saw that it was a splotchy ginger tabby, thick-furred and hardly bigger than Whorlpaw. Its yellow eyes flashed excitedly. With a squeak, it reared for another lunge. Tigerheart batted it away. Was this how all kittypets fought?
The ginger tabby seemed unconcerned by the clumsiness of his attacks. Paws fluttered around his ears like butterflies as Tigerheart ducked another flurry. Then the kittypet bounced around him, ears twitching, fur bushed. “Come on!” he mewed eagerly. “Fight back!”
Tigerheart swallowed a purr. Did the kittypet seriously think this was a real fight? Tigerheart kept his claws sheathed as the tabby flung itself at him once more. He ducked the flailing paws and jabbed his nose beneath the kittypet’s belly. Flicking his head up, he flipped the tom onto its back.
“Wow! Nice!” The kittypet scrambled to its paws and turned on Tigerheart. It ducked beneath Tigerheart’s belly as though trying to copy his move, but when it tried to push up, Tigerheart hopped neatly out of the way. The kittypet spun. “Where’d you go?”
“I’m over here.” Tigerheart sat down and watched the befuddled tabby drop into an ungainly attack crouch. He lifted a paw as the tabby began to wiggle its hindquarters. “Stop.”
The tabby blinked at him. “Why? Am I winning?”
Tigerheart eyed him. “I’m not looking for a fight,” he meowed.
The tabby paused. “But I was winning, right?”
Something seemed to catch the tabby’s eye, because his gaze flashed to the Twoleg den behind Tigerheart. His pelt fluffed excitedly. “Got to go!” he mewed. “Let’s fight again soon.”
Before Tigerheart could speak, the kittypet hared past him, leaped a stretch of small shrubs, and disappeared into the shadows between two nests.
Tigerheart stared after him. What was that all about? If the kittypet was defending its border, then it wasn’t very good at it. Perhaps it was just hoping to scare him off. Did the tabby think that a few soft jabs were enough to scare a warrior away? Kittypets must have bees in their brain. He shook out his pelt and crossed the grass. Following the Thunderpath, he skirted the row of Twoleg nests. The sun was slipping toward the hillside.
“Hi.” A gentle mew made him stop. He looked toward the Twoleg nest where the voice had sounded. A pale cream she-cat was crouched on a wide wooden ledge jutting from the front. She glanced down at him, her fluffy tail twitching at the tip. “You’re not from around here. Are you lost?”
Tigerheart eyed the kittypet and saw softness in her gaze. “I’m looking for someone.” He padded toward the ledge and blinked at her hopefully. “A gray cat called Dovewing. Have you seen her? She might have passed this way a few days ago. She was looking for a den with spikes on the roof like gorse spines.”
The kittypet looked puzzled. “Spikes?”
“It’s in a Twolegplace where the nests reach into the sky,” Tigerheart explained.
The kittypet glanced at the low Twoleg nests surrounding hers. “It won’t be here, then,” she mewed apologetically.
“Perhaps you saw Dovewing?” Tigerheart’s belly ached with hope as he searched the kittypet’s face for recognition.
“Fight!” An excited yowl sounded behind him, and he turned to see the ginger tabby rushing toward him once more.
Frustration spiked Tigerheart’s pelt. Not you again! He reared to meet the tom’s attack, flipped the kittypet’s hind paws from beneath him with a swipe of one paw, and knocked him to the ground with another. He pinned him there, his claws sheathed, his paws buried deep in the tabby’s fluffy pelt. The kittypet was so soft it was like pressing into moss.
“Hey!” the kittypet wailed indignantly, trying to wriggle free of Tigerheart’s grip.
“I don’t have time to fight,” Tigerheart meowed firmly. “I’m looking for someone. If I let you up, will you back off?”
The kittypet squirmed. “But why? I’m having fun!”
“Just back off,” Tigerheart growled.
The kittypet stopped squirming. “Okay.”
Tigerheart let him go.
The kittypet leaped to his paws and backed away, his eyes bright. “That was an awesome move,” he mewed. “Can you show me how you did it?”
“I said I don’t have time.” Tigerheart’s pelt prickled with irritation. Every moment that passed, Dovewing was getting further away.
“Do you need to get back to your Twolegs?” the kittypet tom asked.
“I don’t have Twolegs,” Tigerheart told him. “I’m a warrior.”
“A warrior!” The kittypet’s eyes widened in wonder. “That’s why you fight so good. I’ve heard about warriors. Have you been one for long?”
“Since I was born.” Tigerheart supposed that was a bit inaccurate—he’d been a kit and an apprentice first—but that didn’t seem worth explaining to this kittypet, whose eyes widened with interest.
“Do you live in the wild?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Tigerheart paused. What a mouse-brained question. “Why do you live with Twolegs?”
But the kittypet seemed more interested in Tigerheart’s life than his own. “Don’t you get cold and hungry?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you really fight foxes and badgers?”
“When we have to.” Tigerheart’s pelt rippled along his spine. This was taking too long.
“Fuzzball,” the she-cat cut in gently, clearly sensing Tigerheart’s impatience. “Give him a break.”
“Fuzzball?” Tigerheart’s whiskers twitched in surprise. “Is that your name?”
Fuzzball blinked at him. “Of course.”
Didn’t this kittypet mind having such a dumb name? Tigerheart stared at him. “I’ve never heard of a cat called Fuzzball before.”
“What’s your name?” Fuzzball asked.
“Tigerheart.”
The ginger tabby’s eyes widened, impressed. “That’s a great name!” He blinked at the she-cat. “Tigerheart.” Saying the name seemed to please him, and he purred. “I want to be called Tigerheart.”
The she-cat blinked at him fondly. “I think Fuzzball suits you better.”
“Not as much as Tigerheart would!”
As Fuzzball puffed out his chest, the she-cat dipped her head to Tigerheart. “My name is Rose. I’m sorry we can’t help you find your friend, but you said that she was looking for a place with nests that reach the sky.” She turned to Fuzzball. “Do you know where that is?”
Fuzzball looked pleased to be asked. “No.” He blinked at Tigerheart. “But Ajax might. He told me that he and his Twolegs once lived in a den so high he could look down at the birds.”
Tigerheart pressed back a shudder. Why would anything without wings want to live in the sky?
“Come on.” Fuzzball headed around the side of the Twoleg nest. “I’ll take you to Ajax.”
Tigerheart nodded quickly to Rose. “Thanks for your help.”
She tipped her head. “Good luck!” she called as he followed Fuzzball. “I hope you find your friend.”
Fuzzball wasn’t a good fighter, but he did know how to travel through Twoleg territory. Tigerheart hurried to keep up as the ginger kittypet led him through a maze of paths and tracks that wove between Twoleg nests, over grassy clearings, and around fences. The tom showed no fear as he dodged beneath monsters sleeping in front of nests and slid between them as they dozed beside Thunderpaths.
“Here,” he meowed, stopping at last on the grassy square behind a yellow Twoleg nest. While Tigerheart caught his breath, overwhelmed by the countless new scents that filled his nose and distracted by noises he didn’t recognize, Fuzzball lifted his muzzle and yowled. “Ajax!” He looked expectantly at the nest.
A moment later, a clear flap clattered open near the bottom and a burly black-and-white tom squeezed out. He lifted his tail as he saw Fuzzball. “Hey, Fuzz! Are you looking for a fight?” His eyes sparked warmly.
“Not today,” Fuzzball purred back. “Although this cat could teach you a thing or two about fighting. He totally beat me.”
“Rose could beat you in a fight,” Ajax teased.
Fuzzball flicked his tail. “One day I’m going to be the best fighter in the neighborhood.”
Ajax wove around him, brushing pelts with the fluffy tom. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But you need to spend less time at your food dish and more time patrolling your territory.”
Tigerheart’s ears pricked in surprise. “Do kittypets patrol territory too?”
Ajax swung his wide head toward Tigerheart and narrowed his eyes. “Of course. If we have territory to patrol.”
“But you’re not warriors,” Tigerheart pointed out.
“What’s a warrior?” Ajax poked his muzzle forward and sniffed Tigerheart.
“Haven’t you heard of warriors?” Fuzzball whisked his tail. He seemed happy to know more than his friend. “They’re strays that live in the wild.”
Ajax blinked sympathetically at Tigerheart. “Couldn’t you find a Twoleg to take you in?”
Tigerheart’s pelt bristled. “I wouldn’t want a Twoleg to take me in.”
Fuzzball lifted his muzzle. “He likes being a stray.”
“A warrior,” Tigerheart corrected.
“Well, whatever you are . . .” Ajax circled him slowly. “You look lost.”
Tigerheart warily eyed the Twoleg den behind Ajax. What if a Twoleg came out? “I’m traveling somewhere to find a friend,” he explained.
“His friend was heading for a place with nests that reach to the sky, like the one you used to live in,” Fuzzball told Ajax.
“She had a dream that told her there was a den there with a spiky roof,” Tigerheart added.
“She?” Ajax exchanged meaningful looks with Fuzzball. “Is this a romantic quest?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “If you’re looking for romance, there are plenty of she-cats here.”
“This one’s special.” Tigerheart’s pelt prickled hotly. Didn’t kittypets fall in love?
“Whatever.” Ajax shrugged. “If your friend was heading for a place with sky-high nests, she was probably looking for the Twolegplace I come from.” The black-and-white tom glanced at his Twoleg nest disdainfully. “It’s way bigger than this place. I used to live in a huge den filled with Twoleg nests. From the window, the Thunderpaths below looked tiny. Everything looked tiny. Twolegs looked like prey from up there. Even the monsters looked like prey.”
Tigerheart swallowed. Dovewing was in a place where the dens reached so high that the monsters looked tiny. He had to get to her. “Is there a den there with big spikes like gorse thorns on the roof?”
Ajax narrowed his eyes. “Like gorse thorns?” He seemed to be thinking. “That sounds like a Twoleg gathering place.”
Tigerheart blinked at him confused.
“I could see a gathering place from my old home,” Ajax told him. “Every quarter moon, Twolegs would go there and yowl together.”
“Why?” Fuzzball asked.
“It’s something Twolegs do.” Ajax sniffed.
Tigerheart’s heart sparked with hope. Dovewing had been right. There was a gorse-spiked den. He was heading the right way. “How do I get to that Twolegplace?” he asked Ajax.
Ajax looked over his shoulder at his Twoleg nest, then swished his tail. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”
As he headed across the patch of grass behind the nest, Fuzzball glanced nervously at Tigerheart. “Are you sure you want to go there?”
Tigerheart nodded. “I have to.”
Ajax called to them from across the grass. “Are you two coming?”
Tigerheart hurried toward him. He let the two kittypets take the lead. They were clearly more skillful at dodging Twolegs and monsters. They kept to shadowy gaps between nests, and when they needed to cross a Thunderpath, they knew exactly when to dart between the monsters. When they saw Twolegs on the pathways, they slipped around them, ducking nimbly if a Twoleg bent to touch them.
“If you can learn to dodge Twolegs and monsters like that,” Tigerheart puffed as they reached a clear stretch of grass on the outskirts of the Twolegplace, “you can learn to fight.”
Fuzzball blinked at him hopefully. “Do you really think so?”
“Sure.” Tigerheart looked back in relief at the dens and paths that cluttered the landscape behind him. “You just need to work out a few battle moves and practice them until you can do them without thinking.”
Fuzzball purred.
Ajax was padding on, crossing the scruffy grass. Tigerheart followed him. He could see two shiny tracks cutting across the scrubland ahead. A few tree-lengths away, a small nest sat on a wide stone ledge that edged the track squarely. Ajax stopped and nodded toward it. “That’s where Twolegs wait for the Thundersnake to arrive.”
“Thundersnake?” Tigerheart pelt prickled with unease. “What’s that?”
Ajax stared at him. “You don’t know? Are you kidding?”
Tigerheart fluffed out his fur self-consciously. “We don’t have Thundersnakes in the forest.”
Fuzzball padded between him and Ajax. “A Thundersnake is a huge monster that travels along the Silverpath.” He nodded toward the shiny tracks that lay a few tail-lengths in front of them.
“The Silverpath leads to the big Twolegplace.” Ajax added. “That’s why the Twolegs are waiting. When the Thundersnake arrives, they’ll climb into its belly and let it carry them there.”
Climb into its belly? Shuddering with horror, Tigerheart followed his gaze and saw Twolegs milling on the ledge now. Some were gazing eagerly along the track. Others hung back or paced. Tigerheart could sense impatience in the Twolegs’ restless movements. “How long till the Thundersnake comes?”
“Soon.” Ajax turned his head and looked expectantly along the shiny tracks.
Tigerheart watched the Twolegs on the ledge. One of them put down the heavy bundle it was carrying and crouched beside it. The Twoleg used its forepaws to open up the bundle, revealing colorful pelts crammed inside. “What’s that?” Tigerheart nudged Ajax.
Ajax turned to look. “It’s a shell,” he grunted. “Twolegs use them to carry their spare pelts around.” He stiffened and looked back along the track. “The Thundersnake’s coming.”
Tigerheart followed his gaze. His ears twitched as the tracks began to hum. He felt the air tremble around them as their vibration grew stronger. Suddenly a monster appeared where the tracks dipped behind a ridge. It rumbled toward them like a storm.
Tigerheart’s paws froze in fear. The Thundersnake was huge—far bigger than any monster he’d seen before. The earth shook as it pounded closer. Its paws carved a path along the tracks, which seemed to scream beneath its weight. He glanced at Ajax and Fuzzball. Why weren’t they running away? He held his ground beside them, fighting the urge to flee as the Thundersnake screamed closer. It roared past them like forest fire. Hot air blasted from its flanks, which flashed by, flank after flank, until Tigerheart wondered if the Thundersnake would ever end. He narrowed his eyes against its choking stench and dug his claws into the earth. Its wind tore at his pelt, and he flattened his ears against its deafening howl. Stiff with terror, he held his breath as the world seemed to explode around him. Was this really where Dovewing’s dream was supposed to lead?