Tigerheart glanced uneasily around the camp. Was there time to talk with Puddleshine? The fight between Scorchfur and Tawnypelt must have shocked the Clan. Perhaps they should be reassuring their Clanmates instead.
“Snakepaw.” Strikestone waved the apprentice closer with a flick of his tail. “Come with me. We’re going hunting.” He was clearly trying to divert her attention from her mentor Tawnypelt’s injury, and the tensions within the Clan.
The honey-brown tabby she-cat looked at him eagerly. “Can Whorlpaw and Flowerpaw come?”
Strikestone turned to their mentors, Juniperclaw and Scorchfur. “We can hunt together. The fresh-kill pile needs filling, and the youngsters can practice hunting in groups.” He eyed Scorchfur warily, as though worried the dark gray tom was still enraged enough to claw at his Clanmates’ eyes.
But Scorchfur dipped his head and grunted. “Okay.” He beckoned Whorlpaw toward the entrance with a flick of his muzzle, then padded after him as he headed into the forest. Flowerpaw and Snakepaw exchanged glances, then followed, Juniperclaw at their heels, Strikestone just behind him.
Tigerheart stepped toward the brown tabby tom. “Thank you,” he purred.
Strikestone dipped his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, before joining the others on their way out of camp.
Tigerheart watched them go, enjoying the feeling of his anxiety draining away. It was good to see the warriors working together to diffuse the tension and keep the apprentices busy. Rowanstar hadn’t even seemed to notice. He was staring at Puddleshine. “What do you want to tell us?”
As Puddleshine lifted his chin, Tigerheart remembered suddenly how young the medicine cat was. In the moons since he’d earned his medicine-cat name, the young tom had seen so much. They all had. It was easy to forget that Puddleshine had been trained by Leafpool from kit to full medicine cat in little more than a moon. And yet Tigerheart trusted him now as much as he’d once trusted Littlecloud. He could see earnestness in the young tom’s pale blue eyes as Puddleshine began to speak.
“I had a vision this morning. I was watching the camp as it woke. The rising sun cut through the branches and sent long shadows over our Clanmates as they climbed out of their dens and began to move around the clearing. As I watched them padding in and out of the shadows, the sun seemed to strengthen. I could see it beyond the forest, growing fiery, and, as it did, the shadows in the camp became longer, darker—”
“Are you sure this was a vision?” Rowanstar looked puzzled. “It sounds like any other sunrise.”
Puddleshine gave a slow nod. “The sun shone intensely,” he breathed. “As though, at any moment, the whole forest might catch fire. And the shadows were so dark, it looked as though night had cut swaths through the camp. Between the shadows, the sunlight was blinding. Not like dawn light. It was so bright, I had to turn away.” He stopped, shifted his paws. “Then, suddenly, the sun dimmed. It faded beyond the trees and became so weak that it seemed to melt into the pale dawn sky. As it did, the shadows faded. The fierce stripes that had marked the clearing dissolved until no trace of shadow was left in camp. For a moment, the whole forest was awash in sunlight so soft that it was impossible to distinguish between light and shade.”
“The shadows disappeared.” Tigerheart breathed the words. He could barely imagine it. The camp had always been shaped by shadow. Even at sunhigh, the pines and brambles marked the clearing with patches of darkness.
Puddleshine blinked at him. “Without shadows, what is ShadowClan?”
Tigerheart knew the stories the other Clans told of ShadowClan—how darkness molded their hearts, how they thrived on the power they found in shadow where other Clans would wither. Of course, they were just nursery tales, told to frighten kits, but wasn’t there some truth in those stories? To be a ShadowClan cat was to grow up in the enclosing gloom of the forest, to feel hidden and protected by it, to learn to move within it and use its cover for stealth. “But you said when the vision started, the sun was strong.”
Puddleshine nodded. “And the shadows were strong.”
Rowanstar flicked his tail. “But shadows are always strongest when the sun is strongest. We’ve always known that.”
Puddleshine stared at him. “The vision was sent to remind us that when the sun is strong, the shadows are strong.”
Tigerheart’s pelt pricked ominously. “And when the sun fades, the shadows fade.”
Puddleshine’s ears twitched nervously. “In the vision, the shadows disappeared.”
Tigerheart swallowed. Was Puddleshine trying to tell them that ShadowClan was going to disappear?
“But how can we control the sun?” Rowanstar looked confused.
Puddleshine dropped his gaze. “Perhaps we don’t have to. I think the sun represented something else,” he murmured.
Rowanstar stared at him, his pelt prickling irritably. “What could it possibly represent?”
You. Tigerheart stared at his father. How could he fail to understand? The sun represents you. His throat tightened. If Rowanstar was weak, then ShadowClan would disappear. Wasn’t that what was happening already? He pictured Scorchfur’s claw flashing toward Tawnypelt’s eye. The Clan was crumbling. You have to be strong. The words dried on his tongue. How could he accuse his father of being weak in front of their Clanmates? It would crush him.
He looked hopefully at Puddleshine. Perhaps he was going to warn Rowanstar.
“So?” Rowanstar glanced impatiently at Puddleshine. “Tell me what the sun represents. You’re the medicine cat. You’re meant to know these things.”
Tigerheart’s chest tightened. Tell him.
Puddleshine glanced apologetically at Rowanstar. “We are being warned that ShadowClan may disappear.”
Tell him that he’s the sun! Perhaps Puddleshine didn’t realize what the vision meant. Or perhaps he believed that warning Rowanstar he was weak might weaken him further. Tigerheart tried to read Puddleshine’s gaze, but he saw only worry.
“What should we do?” Rowanstar flicked his tail.
Tigerheart looked his father in the eye. “We must stay strong,” he meowed. “As strong as the sun.”
Rowanstar just looked at him. Tigerheart stared back, waiting for the ginger tom’s eyes to light up with understanding.
But Rowanstar looked as confused as the other cats. Tigerheart wondered if maybe he should say something to his father. . . .
But won’t that make him look weak, if he needs his deputy to explain a vision to him?
He turned away, feeling sick. Tomorrow, Dovewing was expecting him to leave the forest with her. But how could he abandon his Clan now, when they needed him most? Rowanstar clearly needed support. If Tigerheart left now, then the shadows would fade. ShadowClan would disappear.
But Dovewing was willing to make her journey alone if she had to. He had to stop her. Once he’d made sure that Rowanstar and ShadowClan were strong again, then they could journey wherever she wanted to go.
He ran across the clearing, anxiety fizzing in his pelt. He headed for the entrance and ducked through the bramble tunnel. The damp leaf-fall air seeped into his fur as he headed for the ThunderClan border. He felt cold. The ground felt chilly beneath his paws. He had to talk to someone. He had to save his Clan. He had to save Dovewing.
As he neared the border and ThunderClan scents began to drift between the trees, he slowed. The fear that gripped him spiraled into panic. What am I doing? He couldn’t reveal their secret about the kits! If Dovewing’s Clan rejected her, she’d never forgive him. She had a plan. He couldn’t ruin it by betraying her.
He stopped. But what if Dovewing told a Clanmate about the kits herself? What if she felt close enough to another cat to confide her fears?
Ivypool! Of course! The sisters had been close until recently. Dovewing had complained that her sister hardly spoke to her now. She must miss having Ivypool to confide in. If I can mend their relationship, Dovewing might tell Ivypool everything. Tigerheart lifted his head eagerly. And then Ivypool could persuade her to stay.
Tigerheart snatched desperately at the hope. He broke into a run. He had to find Ivypool and speak to her!
Tigerheart crouched beside the ThunderClan border until sunset. When there was still no sign of Ivypool, he crossed it. Slinking through the shadows, his mouth open to taste for scents, he crept across ThunderClan land. What if she was patrolling the far side? Could he wait outside the camp until he saw her return and catch her attention?
Anxiety fluttered in his belly. He shouldn’t be on ThunderClan territory. But he had to see Ivypool.
Suddenly her scent touched his nose. It was fresh. His heart soared. StarClan must be guiding us! He scanned the shadowy forest. Twilight was sinking fast into night. He widened his eyes, trying to glimpse her pelt, and heard paws scuff the ground beyond a stand of bracken. He caught a scent that tasted like Dovewing’s—a little harsher, but familiar. Taking a risk, he whispered into the shadows. “Ivypool.”
He heard a sudden movement. Some cat had turned quickly. Fur brushed the bracken stems. They trembled in front of him as Ivypool pushed her way out.
“Tigerheart?” Hostility gleamed in her gaze. “What are you doing here?”
“I have to talk to you.”
“To me?” She curled her lip. “Are you sure you’re not looking for Dovewing?”
“I’m sure.”
Ivypool growled at him. “Twigpaw saw you and my sister meeting near the border. You know that’s against the warrior code, right? You could get her into big trouble.”
Tigerheart stared into her burning gaze. Urgency writhed like captured prey in his chest. “I love her, Ivypool, and she loves me. But she needs you.”
Ivypool narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’re here? To tell me that you’re in love, so everything’s okay?” Her mew dripped with contempt.
“She says you’re shutting her out,” Tigerheart urged. “I know you’re angry with her. But she needs someone to confide in.”
“You mean she needs me to approve of what she’s doing so she doesn’t feel so guilty!” Anger sharpened Ivypool’s mew.
“Don’t you care about her?” Tigerheart pleaded.
Ivypool’s pelt bushed. “How dare you?” she spat. “Of course I care about her. And if you cared about her, you’d leave her alone.”
“I can’t.” Helplessness swamped Tigerheart. He wanted to blurt out the truth—that Dovewing was expecting kits. He wanted the truth to fix everything. He wanted Ivypool to forgive Dovewing and reassure her that raising her kits in the Clans would be great. But he knew the truth might make things worse. And telling the truth should be Dovewing’s choice, not his.
“Ivypool.” He gazed at her desperately. “Just talk to her. Please.”
“I will.” Ivypool whirled away with a snarl. “Once she’s stopped seeing you.” Her silver tail lashing, she pushed her way through the bracken and disappeared into darkness.
Tigerheart watched her go, his chest tightening with panic. Ivypool had been his last, desperate hope at persuading Dovewing, and now that hope had died. Dovewing only had him. I don’t want to do this without you, Tigerheart. I need you. He pictured her wide, stricken gaze, and his heart ached.
He curled his claws into the earth. Rowanstar was ShadowClan’s leader; he was responsible for the Clan. It’s not my duty to hold the Clan together. Tigerheart headed for the border. I’ve carried that burden for too long. He pictured Scorchfur’s snarling face as he attacked Tawnypelt. He remembered the treachery of the apprentices who’d brought the rogues into the Clan. Let them hold themselves together. Bitterness rose in his throat. Or tear themselves apart. Determination pulsed through him as he padded through the deepening night. My responsibility is to Dovewing and my kits.
I love you, Dovewing, and I won’t let you down.