Tigerheart fled along the ledge between two Thundersnakes. The stone was slippery beneath his paws; his claws slithered over it, unable to get a grip as he dodged back and forth, swerving around Twolegs. They yelped as he shot past them. He wanted to get away from the snakes, away from the Twolegs, but the great cavern seemed to stretch away in every direction. He saw tunnels opening at its edges, but the dazzling light almost blinded him, and he couldn’t see where they led. Twoleg voices echoed from the walls and the high, domed roof. Clanking and rumbling made the air tremble. Countless scents overwhelmed his senses.
Heart bursting with terror, he cleared the snakes and glanced back, shocked to see yet more Thundersnakes flanking them. Twolegs hurried to and from them, disappearing into one, pouring out from another.
Instinctively, Tigerheart headed for a wall. Like prey, he craved shelter. He ran for the nearest one and crouched in its shadow, scuttling backward until he’d edged himself into a corner where two walls met. The Twolegs ignored him. Though they’d yelped as he’d passed them, none seemed interested in following him. He huddled in the shade of the walls and stared.
The cavern was huge. Brightly lit dens in the walls thronged with Twolegs. Arches and tunnels showed between them. Steadying his breath, Tigerheart let his panic ease and tried to think. If he could get used to the acrid stench of Thundersnakes and Twolegs, he might be able to detect fresh air. He slowed his breathing and narrowed his eyes. Opening his mouth, he let the jumble of scents bathe his tongue. At first it was overwhelming and he felt sick, but gradually he grew accustomed to the strange smells, just as his ears adjusted to the unending cacophony.
A few scents smelled tasty, others were sour, and some were bitter or rancid, but none tasted of fresh air. He would have to creep out of his hiding place and explore one tunnel at a time. Surely one must lead up into daylight?
Keeping low, he slipped along the wall to the front of a brightly lit den. A Twoleg padded out and headed across the cavern. Tigerheart hurried across the entrance and ducked around the far wall. A tunnel, lit by harsh light, opened ahead of him. He opened his jaws, hoping to taste fresh air that would guide him out, but only harsh scents landed on his tongue. It leads away from the cavern, though. Perhaps it would join another tunnel that would take him out of this warren.
The slick stone floor was cold beneath his paws, and he hurried, relieved that no Twolegs were using the tunnel. It opened quickly into another cavern, smaller and without Thundersnakes, but edged by more brightly lit dens. He scurried past each one, ignoring the surprised barks of Twolegs as he dodged around them. Mouth open, he tasted the air for the way out. He scanned the high walls, hoping to see a clear stretch that would show him the sky. But the walls were covered in strange images and shapes that gave no clue as to how he might get outside.
Suddenly a scent touched his tongue that made him freeze.
Cat.
Another cat was here! He smelled tom scent with a rush of surprise that made him scan the cavern more closely. The scent was both fresh and old, as though a cat visited this place regularly. Did a cat live here?
Accustomed now to the idea that the Twolegs here wouldn’t chase him, and that he only had to avoid their clumsy paws, he paused beside the opening of a brightly lit den and took a moment to analyze the tom’s scent. It was stale here, but fresher beyond the den entrance. He headed toward the fresher scent, pleased to find it so strong that he knew the tom must have passed this way very recently.
Tracking the smell, he wove through the stone columns that stood like trees around the cavern. The trail led him toward a small opening in the lower part of a wall. A hard mesh lay in front of it, as though it had fallen away from the opening. Tigerheart ducked inside, relieved to find it dark here, and the scent of the tom much stronger.
A hiss from the shadows made him freeze.
“I’m Tigerheart,” he mewed quickly. “I’m not here to fight. I just need some help.” He unsheathed his claws warily. This tom might not want to welcome a new cat onto his territory. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a skinny black-and-white cat glaring at him through slitted eyes.
Back arched, the tom showed its teeth. “Get out or I’ll shred your muzzle.”
Tigerheart backed away. “Please,” he begged. “I just need to find my way out of this place.” He tried not to wrinkle his nose. The tom smelled like Twoleg leavings.
His gaze flitted over Tigerheart. Slowly his arched back relaxed. “You’re not here to steal food?”
“I don’t need to steal food,” Tigerheart told him. “I can hunt.”
“You don’t want to fight?” The tom sounded suspicious.
“No.” He waited while the tom breathed deeply, clearly testing his scent.
“You don’t smell like a rot pile cat,” he conceded.
“What’s a rot pile cat?” Tigerheart wondered if there were different Clans here too.
“There’s a gang of cats that hangs around the rot pile behind the station,” the tom explained. “They’re always trying to drive me away. I don’t know why. The Twolegs here leave enough trash for every cat.”
Rot pile? Station? Trash? This cat used odd words. He stared at the tom, suddenly aware how far from home he was. He didn’t even understand the language. His pelt prickled nervously. He puffed out his chest. “Why don’t you fight them?”
“There are three of them.” The tom looked at him like he was a mouse-brain. “There’s only one of me.”
“Don’t you have Clanmates here?”
“Clanmates?” The tom stared at him, puzzled.
Tigerheart groped for a word this cat could understand. “Kin.”
“I’m the only cat in the station.”
“Is that what this place is called?” Tigerheart pricked his ears. “I thought it was a Thundersnake nest.”
The tom blinked at him. “You’re not from the city at all, are you? Only outsiders call trains Thundersnakes.”
City? Tigerheart blinked back. “I’m from the forest. I’m looking for my friend.”
“Is your friend from the forest too?”
“Yes.”
The tom tipped his head. “I didn’t know there were strays in the forest.”
“We’re not strays,” Tigerheart corrected him. “We’re warriors.”
For the first time the tom looked interested. His gaze sharpened, glittering in the dingy light seeping into the den. “A warrior? Does that mean you fight?”
Tigerheart didn’t like the inquisitive edge in the tom’s mew. “I can fight if I have to,” he mewed cagily. What does he want?
The tom dipped his head. “I’m Dash, by the way. I live here.”
“I guessed.” Tigerheart wasn’t ready to warm to this prickly cat. He seemed to be planning something.
“So?” Dash leaned closer. “Do you know where your friend was heading?”
Tigerheart avoided answering Dash’s question directly. “Is there a big Twoleg den here with a roof that has gorse spines sticking up to the sky?”
Dash frowned. “Gorse spines?”
“Like this.” Tigerheart held up a paw and fanned out his claws.
Dash tipped his head. “There’s a big den with a couple small thorns, and one big thorn. It’s a Twoleg gathering place.”
A Twoleg gathering place! That’s what Ajax had called it! Could it be the gorse-spined den Dovewing had dreamed about? He had to check. “Is it near here?”
“It’s not far.”
“Can you show me?”
Dash looked down at his paws. “I can help you—if you help me.”
“You need help?” Tigerheart’s eyes narrowed. Dash sounded cagey. Was he going to ask Tigerheart to do something bad?
“I told you,” Dash meowed. “The rot pile cats have been trying to drive me away. If they thought I had a tough friend, they might leave me alone.”
“You want me to help fight them.” Why hadn’t he just asked straight out?
Dash looked away. “I’m not so good at fighting.”
“Of course you are. You’re a cat.”
“So are they,” Dash pointed out.
Tigerheart felt a glimmer of pity for the tom. No cat liked to be bullied. “Do they belong to a Clan?” He wanted to know what fighting skills they had.
“Clan?” Dash looked confused. “We don’t have Clans in the city. They’re just strays.”
Strays. Hopefully they wouldn’t know any warrior moves. Tigerheart jerked his nose toward the entrance to Dash’s den. “Can you show me where they are?”
“They’ll be around the rot piles.” Dash padded past him and slipped out into the cavern.
Tigerheart followed, relieved to have a guide this time. He trailed Dash as the station cat skirted a long wall, then turned to climb a tunnel that sloped upward. Twolegs streamed past them, unheeding, as the tunnel divided and then turned sharply. Tigerheart was met by fresher scents, and his fur prickled with excitement, even though they were slightly tainted by monster stench. Dovewing might be out there—she might be nearby. And if he could deal with these rot pile cats, Dash would take him to look for her.
He quickened his pace as Dash turned in to a narrower tunnel where there were no Twolegs.
Dash hurried along it. A wall blocked the end, but Dash nodded toward a piece of mesh, like the one lying outside his den. “The way out is through this vent.” The mesh hung loosely over a small opening; Dash nosed it open easily and slid through. Tigerheart followed the station cat into a small dark tunnel. A cold breeze funneled over him as he glimpsed light at the end. It wasn’t the harsh yellow of the station, but cool, bright daylight.
Relief swamped Tigerheart, and the panic that had been sparking at the edges of his thoughts since he found himself in the belly of the Thundersnake began to ease. He breathed deeply as he squeezed past another vent into the open air.
Once outside, Tigerheart immediately smelled crow-food. The sour stink bathed his muzzle. Dash was gazing toward a stretch of ground where four huge red shapes—like square monsters—stood, overflowing with stinking Twoleg waste.
“Those are the ‘rot piles’?” Tigerheart guessed. He drew back into the shadow of the station wall.
“Yes.” Dash crouched beside him. From their hiding place, Tigerheart could see two mangy toms sniffing around the base of one of the rot piles while a big brown tabby she-cat dug through the litter at the top.
“That’s them,” Dash whispered.
“Which one is the meanest?” Tigerheart asked.
“Floyd.” Dash nodded toward the smaller of the toms. He was brown and white, his muzzle filthy and his ear tips torn from fighting.
“Okay.” Tigerheart assessed the three cats quickly. “You’re going to have to help—”
“But I can’t fight,” Dash protested in a whisper.
“You only need one move.” He turned on Dash and slowly but firmly swept one paw under the station cat’s front paws, tugging them from beneath him, then swept another softly over his ears.
Dash stumbled, but Tigerheart caught him before his flank hit the ground.
“You try it on me,” Tigerheart ordered.
Dash blinked at him, recovering from his surprise, then frowned thoughtfully. After a moment of concentration, he jabbed clumsily at Tigerheart’s front paws, managing to hook them with speed rather than accuracy, and then swung an awkward blow that caught one of Tigerheart’s ears.
“Not bad.” Tigerheart stumbled and regained his balance. “I’ll drive the she-cat from the top of the rot pile. As soon as she lands, you do your move on Floyd.”
“On Floyd?” Dash looked alarmed. “But what if he fights back?”
“Don’t worry. You just need to start the fight. I’ll finish it,” Tigerheart promised. “But it has to look like you attacked them, or they’ll keep hassling you.”
Dash nodded.
“Remember,” Tigerheart encouraged, “you’re fighting for your territory, okay?”
Dash’s eyes flashed anxiously. Tigerheart didn’t give him a chance to argue. “Follow me.” He marched across the stone and leaped onto the rot pile where the tabby was rummaging. His paws sank right into the garbage. He swallowed against the nausea that swept over him as he felt wetness seep into his fur.
The tabby looked at him in surprise. Her warm scent touched his nose. “Hi.” She flicked her tail at him flirtatiously. “You’re new around here.”
A hiss sounded from below. “Mae! Who are you talking to?”
Mae picked her way across the stinking rubbish and peered over the edge. “Just a stranger.” She glanced back at Tigerheart and winked. “It’s nice to see a tom who looks like he can feed himself.”
Tigerheart glanced at Dash, who was padding across the stone toward the two toms. “I’ve moved into the station with Dash,” he meowed quickly. “And we don’t think there’s enough food around here to share with you three.” He flattened his ears and gave her a warning hiss.
Her gaze hardened instantly. “Do you really think you and that fleabag can drive us away?” She curled her lip. “We’re the ones who own these bins. The sooner you learn that, the better.” With a hiss, she flung herself at him. He leaped clear, the garbage shifting beneath his paws. This wasn’t an easy place to fight. As he turned to meet another attack, his paws sunk deeper. Below, he heard an angry yowl.
“You think you can fight now, station cat?”
Struggling to get a paw hold, Tigerheart reared to meet Mae’s attack. He wrapped his paws around her and, holding on hard, threw himself onto his side and rolled over the trash toward the edge of the rot pile. Then he dropped over the edge, dragging her with him. As his paws met the stone, he let his hind legs fold beneath him, absorbing the impact of the landing while he still held Mae.
She struggled and hissed in his grip. Behind him he heard an angry yowl. He glanced backward and saw Floyd collapse onto the stone as Dash swung a blow at his cheek. Well done! He flung Mae away and leaped between Dash and Floyd while the ragged tom found his paws.
“Hi,” Tigerheart snarled. “I’m Dash’s new friend.” He sliced his claws across the mangy tom’s face.
He heard the tabby hiss behind him and kicked out his hind legs. His paws slammed into her chest. She grunted and staggered away.
The other tom stared, unmoving, from beside the rot pile. Floyd backed away, hissing. Tigerheart padded to Dash’s side as Mae glared angrily at Floyd, her pelt ruffled.
“Is that it?” she growled at the brown-and-white tom. “Aren’t you going to fight him?”
“You fight him,” Floyd spat back. “His claws are sharp.” He dabbed at his bloody muzzle with a paw.
“He threw me off the rot pile!” Mae snapped indignantly. She looked at the other tom. “What about you, Scrap? Aren’t you going to defend me?”
Scrap looked nervously from Tigerheart to Dash. “Why don’t we just go and find somewhere else to eat?” he mewed. “There are some more rot piles just down the street.”
Tigerheart showed his teeth. “Good idea.” These cats were mouse-hearts. “Go scavenge somewhere else. This is Dash’s territory.”
The rot pile cats glanced at one another uncertainly. Then Floyd shrugged. “I guess we could find other rot piles. There’s no decent food here anyway.” He turned and headed down the stone path that led toward a gap where monsters rumbled past. Scrap followed him, glancing reproachfully at Dash. Mae shot Tigerheart a look. “You didn’t have to get mean.”
“You’ve been bullying Dash.” Tigerheart glared at her.
“It’s his own fault for being so pathetic.” She hissed at Dash and headed after the others.
“At least he’s willing to fight for what’s his!” Tigerheart yowled after her.
“Yeah!” Dash fluffed out his fur. “So don’t come back here.”
Tigerheart glanced at him. “Are you going to be okay once I’m gone?”
“Sure.” Dash blinked at him happily. “Now that I’ve seen how easily they give up.”
“If they ever learn how to work together, they might be dangerous,” Tigerheart warned.
“They won’t.” Dash watched them as they disappeared around the corner. “Cats tend to look out for themselves around here.”
“They look out for one another where I come from,” Tigerheart told him, trying to ignore the prickles of sadness in his chest as he thought about how much fun it was, hunting with his Clanmates.
“Why?”
Tigerheart stared at him. Couldn’t he guess? “Cats are stronger when they work together.”
“But isn’t it easier when you only have to take care of yourself?” Dash seemed perplexed.
The tom’s words sparked guilt in Tigerheart’s belly. Wasn’t that the thought he’d had when he left ShadowClan? No! I’m going to find Dovewing. She needs me. He blinked at Dash. “You didn’t seem to be doing so well at taking care of yourself.”
“I made you help me.” Dash swished his tail. “That was pretty smart.”
“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tigerheart told him. “I wanted to help you.”
“Really?” Dash looked surprised.
“Really.” Tigerheart glanced along the stone path that the rot pile cats had taken toward the Thunderpath. “Is the Twoleg gathering place that way?”
Dash followed his gaze. “Yes.” He glanced hungrily at the rot pile. “Do you want some food first?”
Tigerheart still had the scent of rancid trash on his paws. “No, thanks. I’ll hunt later.” He craned his neck, looking up at the dens towering around him. It was like being in a forest, with slivers of sky cutting between the soaring rooftops. The sun was sliding slowly behind them.
Dash was still looking at the rot piles. “Come on, let’s rummage for food. You’ll like it. Some of it’s really good.”
“No, thanks.” Tigerheart wished Dash would stop offering. He wanted to find out if the gathering place was the thorn den Dovewing had been looking for. “I don’t eat crow-food unless I have no choice.”
“Crow-food?” Dash frowned.
“Scraps,” Tigerheart explained.
“Crow-food.” Dash repeated thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, as though thinking; then he shrugged. “I guess if it’s good enough for a crow, it’s good enough for me.”
Tigerheart’s pelt pricked uneasily. Why did Dovewing believe it was better to raise their kits in a place where cats thought of themselves as no better than crows? “Come on.” He headed along the stone path, flattening his ears against the rumbling of the monsters at the end.
Dash fell in beside him as they reached a monster sleeping beside a wall. It had lost one of its paws, and its pelt was dull. Tigerheart wondered if it was dead. Dash padded past it, unconcerned, and Tigerheart followed. At the end of the path, wind whisked around the corner. It stung his eyes so that the monsters and Twolegs, streaming past, blurred in front of him. Tigerheart hesitated, fear sparking beneath his pelt as Dash padded onto the stone walkway that edged the Thunderpath.
“Come on.” The station cat beckoned Tigerheart with his tail.
Tigerheart forced himself out into the flood of movement. A stinking breeze washed his pelt. The glittering walls and towering dens made him dizzy. Roofs cut a jagged line through the sky. He dodged a Twoleg and pressed against a wall. “Why do the Twolegs here need such big dens?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the panic welling in his chest.
“There are a lot of Twolegs in the city.” Dash ducked beside him as Twolegs streamed past them. “I guess they’ve all got to sleep somewhere.”
Tigerheart blinked at the station cat. How did he stay so calm? Beyond the Twolegs, monsters were crawling along the road in an endless stream, honking at one another like geese. He was glad Ajax and Fuzzball had shown him how to slip around Twolegs and monsters in their small Twolegplace. That had seemed busy. This was overwhelming. He stared at Dash with wide eyes. “How do you get around here? It’s so crowded!”
Dash shrugged. “Everything keeps moving, but not very fast, and the Twolegs and monsters aren’t interested in cats. Just keep your head down and don’t get in anything’s way and you’ll be fine. Follow me.” He skirted the wall, following the stone walkway until a Thunderpath crossed it.
“Where now?” Tigerheart stared at the gap between the dens where two Thunderpaths crossed. Lights flashed on sticks, red and green, above their heads.
“Wait until that light shows green.” Dash nodded to a light shaped like a Twoleg. “Then we cross the Thunderpath with the Twolegs. Just don’t trip them. That makes them mad.”
Tigerheart stared at the green light as it suddenly brightened. The monsters stopped as though an invisible wall had dropped in front of them, and the Twolegs streamed over the Thunderpath.
“Now!” Dash nudged Tigerheart forward with his shoulder.
Tigerheart hurried beside him. His heart pounded with terror. He focused on the Thunderpath, smooth beneath his paws, and forced himself not to break into a run. Twolegs flowed around them, and he didn’t want to risk tripping them. Relief washed over him as he reached the walkway on the other side. Dash guided him forward along another stone walkway that lined an even wider Thunderpath.
Tigerheart kept his eyes fixed ahead. The noise and bustle around him made his head swim. How had Dovewing found her way through these noisy crowded trails? “Is the gathering place far?”
“Just a little farther.” Dash picked up his pace as the crowd of Twolegs began to thin. He turned a corner onto a quieter walkway, narrower and with fewer Twolegs and monsters teeming between the dens.
They crossed more Thunderpaths, each a little quieter than the last, until finally Tigerheart saw a break in the dens and a stretch of green ahead. His heart soared at the sight of grass and trees. In the center sat a den, squat compared to the towering dens that surrounded it. Its stone walls were punctuated by stretches of colored stone that reflected the late afternoon light like shattered rainbows. A sloping roof stretched along the den like a bony spine. On either side, small spikes poked into the sky, and in the middle, one huge spike looked as though it were trying to spear the clouds. “The gorse thorns!” Tigerheart stopped and stared. Was this the den Dovewing had dreamed of? Surely it must be. He’d followed the Silverpath and here it was.
Dash stopped. “You can find your own way from here.” He dipped his head to Tigerheart. “Thanks for chasing Floyd and the others away. I’ll be able to sleep easier for a while.”
Tigerheart dragged his gaze from the thorn den. “If they come back, don’t forget the fighting move I taught you.”
“I won’t.” Dash blinked at him happily. “Good luck. I hope you find your friend.”
“So do I.”
As Dash turned back along the pathway, Tigerheart stared at the gathering place. It seemed empty. The stretch of grass surrounding it was deserted. Thin slabs of stone stood upright in neat rows. Tigerheart hurried forward and, relieved to feel grass underpaw once again, wove between them. He tasted the air, hoping to catch Dovewing’s scent. His heart tightened as he scanned the great, glittering den. I’m here. . . . I just hope that Dovewing is here too.