Tigerheart opened his eyes. Dawn light filtered through the high stretches of clear wall. Dovewing was sleeping beside him. He let himself wake slowly. In the days since he’d helped chase the foxes away, he’d grown accustomed to the slow pace of life among the guardian cats. There were no dawn patrols, no borders to mark, no dens or camp walls to repair. He could hunt when he liked, bringing food back for the others as well as for Dovewing and himself. He’d accompanied a patrol to the herb patch to gather leaves and checked the blocked fox den. There was no sign the foxes had returned; their scent was all but gone, replaced by Thunderpath smells.
Now he gazed lazily around the cluttered cavern. The guardian cats were still sleeping, except Boots, who was murmuring softly to Marigold, the old black cat who had hardly left her nest since Tigerheart had arrived. Marigold listened, her gaze distant and dull. Boots stopped talking and began gently lapping her head, working his way along her spine with gentle strokes.
Tigerheart guessed that the old cat was dying. He was glad she had the care and protection of the guardian cats. For a moment he wondered how often strays must die alone, in a chilly makeshift den, with no help for their pain. The thought stung him, and he pushed it away. He wasn’t a stray; he never would be. And he’d make sure his kits never became strays either.
He stood up and stepped from the nest, turning back to tuck a few pelts around Dovewing so she didn’t feel the chill of his absence. He padded into a stream of early-morning light and began to wash. The sound of his tongue rasping over his fur was loud in the silent cavern. Boots lifted his head and blinked at him, then returned to washing Marigold.
Fur swished nearby, and Tigerheart turned to see Spire creeping from his nest. The skinny black tom glanced back at Blaze, still sleeping among the furless pelts, then tiptoed across the cavern floor and leaped onto the ledge that led to the entrance.
Quiet as a mouse, the tom slid out the gap into the pale morning.
Why had he left Blaze? Spire normally took the kit everywhere with him. What was he up to? Curious, Tigerheart hopped onto the wooden ledge, waited until Spire had slipped out of sight, and then leaped up and squeezed through the gap in the wall. Stone dust trickled into his fur, and he shook it free as he padded out of the shadow of the gathering place. The leaf-fall sunshine was bright, the air cold, and a blue sky arced above. The lines of stone slabs, sitting upright in the dewy grass, striped the clearing with shadow. Tigerheart saw a shape move between them. Spire was weaving his way toward a tall chestnut tree at the edge of the clearing. A Thunderpath lay beside it, monsters rumbling sedately past. Tigerheart had grown so used to them, he hardly noticed. His gaze was following Spire.
Tigerheart lingered behind a stone slab and watched as Spire reached the chestnut tree. The tom sat down and stared across the stretch of grass, which was divided by a smooth stone path that led to what Tigerheart guessed was the Twoleg entrance to the gathering place. Was Spire waiting for something? Tigerheart padded closer, his pelt tingling with curiosity. Keeping quiet, he stopped behind the stone slab nearest the chestnut tree and, hidden from view, watched to see what Spire would do next.
“Is this what warriors do?” Spire asked pointedly.
Tigerheart stiffened, confused for a moment—he hadn’t expected to hear the word warrior from one of the guardian cats, though it didn’t sound quite so strange out of Spire’s mouth. But he had been sure that he hadn’t been seen or heard as he approached.
“I came outside to get a chance to think,” Spire went on.
Tigerheart padded sheepishly from his hiding place and dipped his head to the skinny black tom. “I wondered why you’d left Blaze,” he mumbled. “You usually take him everywhere.”
“He usually follows me everywhere,” Spire answered tartly. “But even a crazy cat likes me needs solitude once in a while.”
“I’m sorry.” Tigerheart backed away. “I’ll leave you alone.”
As he spoke, a monster drew up at the end of the smooth stone path, and a brightly pelted Twoleg got out and began to walk toward the gathering place. Tigerheart froze and waited as the Twoleg disappeared inside.
“The entrance is open,” Tigerheart mewed in surprise. The wooden slabs that usually barred the entrance to the gathering place stood open. “Will they find the cavern?”
“They won’t even look for it,” Spire told him matter-of-factly. “It’s their yowling time. They do it every quarter moon, and in the evenings sometimes too.”
Another monster pulled up and stopped at the edge of the Thunderpath. Several Twolegs climbed out and headed toward the gathering-place entrance.
Tigerheart hesitated. He knew Spire wanted to be alone, but he wanted to know what yowling time was. He’d leave soon, but for now he’d watch. Another group of Twolegs were heading up the smooth stone path toward the wooden entrance. Soon more were flocking toward the thorn den, and Tigerheart glanced guiltily at Spire, whose gaze hadn’t shifted from the Twolegs. “I should go.” Reluctantly, he turned toward the cavern.
“Stay and listen if you want.” Spire shifted his paws.
“But you wanted to be alone,” Tigerheart reminded him.
“Being pestered by a kit is not the same as sitting with a warrior.” Spire didn’t look at him. He was absently watching more Twolegs arrive. He must have watched it many times before.
Tigerheart padded to the tom’s side and sat beside him.
“I like having Blaze around,” Spire meowed suddenly, as though he felt he had to explain. “But kits ask lots of questions, and this morning I need to think.”
Tigerheart remembered with a pang how Grassheart’s kits had asked questions relentlessly, and had wanted to play when Grassheart longed to doze quietly in the sunshine. The apprentices had kept them busy, teaching them games and hunting moves, and the elders had joined in, giving Grassheart a chance to rest. Would his kits ask questions? How would he and Dovewing cope without Clanmates to help them?
“I had a dream.” Spire interrupted his thoughts. “I saw a tree fall. . . .” The tom’s eyes had glazed; his mew had drifted into thoughtfulness. “It cut through a shadow as black as night.”
A shadow? Tigerheart stiffened. Spire might not be a medicine cat, and they were far beyond the reach of StarClan—but there was something about the way that he described his dream that made Tigerheart feel it might be significant.
“Where it cut through,” Spire continued, “I could see beyond.”
Tigerheart’s pelt prickled with foreboding. “What could you see?”
Spire looked at him, his gaze clearing suddenly as though waking from a trance. “Light.”
Tigerheart’s thoughts spun in a way they hadn’t since he’d left ShadowClan. He’d thought he was free of omens and worry. But now, this cat, who had never even heard of StarClan, was talking of dreams like a real medicine cat. His dream sounded like one Puddleshine might have had. And it was about shadows. Always shadows! Tigerheart shivered. “The tree.” He stared at Spire. “The one that sliced through the shadow . . . What sort was it?” Could it represent Rowanstar?
Spire shrugged. “It was a tree. A tall one. An old one.”
“Was it a rowan tree?”
“I don’t know,” Spire told him. “A tree is a tree.”
“But it’s important!” Was his father going to destroy ShadowClan like the tree in Spire’s dream? Or would he cut through the shadows that threatened to swallow the Clan and find a way to light beyond? “How did you feel when you saw the tree cut the shadow? Were you scared?” Tigerheart leaned closer. “Or did you feel hope?”
“I didn’t feel anything, apart from curiosity.” Spire looked at him blankly. “Why? Does the dream mean something to you?”
Tigerheart looked away. “I don’t know.” He stared at the ground. Spire wasn’t a Clan cat. How could his dream have anything to do with ShadowClan? “You dream a lot, right?”
“Yes.” Spire curled his tail over his paws and looked back toward the Twolegs streaming into the gathering place. “Sometimes when I’m awake.”
Tigerheart forced his fur to smooth. Maybe they aren’t real visions, he told himself. Maybe Spire just has . . . a good imagination.
The gathering place began to hum with Twoleg murmuring. Then the noise swelled suddenly, and the murmurings joined into one voice that yowled in a way Tigerheart had never heard before. Their yowling lifted and fell, hardened and softened, like the song of a bird in greenleaf. Tigerheart stared at the great den. The huge thorn jutting from its roof sparkled against the cloudless sky as the Twolegs wailed inside.
Spire blinked at him. “Let’s go back into the cavern,” he meowed. “The yowling sounds more interesting from down there.”
Tigerheart’s ears twitched. He hurried after Spire as the tom headed toward the gap in the wall. Dovewing would wonder where he’d gone.
I’m coming. He broke into a run. Dovewing needed him. That’s why he’d come here. Forget about ShadowClan. Why had he let Spire’s dream spook him? But what if StarClan is trying to reach me? He pushed away the nagging doubt. ShadowClan had Rowanstar. I’m needed here now, not there.
He nosed through the gap ahead of Spire and jumped down to the wooden ledge. Dovewing was awake, sitting in a pool of sunshine, watching Blaze and Ant play fight.
“Am I doing it right?” Blaze looked eagerly at Dovewing as he wrapped himself around Ant’s forepaw and began churning his leg with his hind paws.
“You’re doing great!” Dovewing purred.
Spire landed on the ledge beside Tigerheart, and Blaze’s gaze flashed toward them.
“You’re back!” He released Ant’s leg and rushed to meet Spire as the black tom jumped down from the ledge. “Did you go to watch the Twolegs yowling?”
Spire had been right. The cavern throbbed with the noise above. Tigerheart caught Dovewing’s eye and blinked at her affectionately. He followed Spire down from the ledge and crossed the floor to meet her. “The noise is really something.”
Ant, sitting where Blaze had left him, lifted his head. “The first time I heard it, I thought dogs were howling upstairs.”
“It does sound like that,” Dovewing mewed. “Isn’t it strange?”
Tigerheart’s fur brushed hers as he sat down beside her. “Twolegs are weird.”
“Where did you go?” she asked him softly.
Before he could answer, Ant stretched. “Thanks for the fighting tips. I’m going to hunt.” He nodded to Tigerheart. “Do you want to come?”
“Maybe later,” Tigerheart told him. He wanted to speak with Dovewing first. Spire’s dream had shaken him.
Ant flicked his tail. “Okay.”
As the brown-and-black tom headed toward the cavern entrance, Tigerheart leaned closer to Dovewing. “I followed Spire,” he told her. “He told me he’d had a dream.”
Dovewing shifted her paws as though easing her swollen belly into a more comfortable position. “Fierce says he dreams all the time.”
“I know,” Tigerheart mewed, frowning. “He said that sometimes he even dreams when he’s awake.” Worry was tugging in his belly. “The way he talked about it, it seemed a lot like a dream Puddleshine might have.”
“How?” Dovewing blinked at him, concern glittering in her green eyes.
“He dreamed about a shadow and a falling tree. The tree cut through the shadow, and he could see light beyond.”
Dovewing flicked her tail impatiently. “I suppose you think that has something to do with ShadowClan.”
“Perhaps it does.”
“Why? Spire’s not a medicine cat. And these cats all live so far away from the Clans, they had no idea we even existed. Why would StarClan speak to him?”
“Perhaps because they want to reach me here.”
Dovewing rolled her eyes. “Because you’re so important to ShadowClan.”
Anger sparked in Tigerheart’s pelt. “I am important to ShadowClan. I’m their deputy, remember?”
“You were their deputy,” she reminded him. “But you gave all that up to be here with me.”
Not forever. He searched Dovewing’s gaze. Did she really think they would never go home?
She blinked back at him, doubt furrowing her brow. “You did give it up, didn’t you?”
Guilt jabbed Tigerheart’s belly. “I wanted to find you. . . .”
Her green eyes blazed angrily. “So you could bring me back?”
“No!” he yelped. “Well, yes . . . I don’t know, exactly! I just knew that I wanted to be with you.” His head drooped as he kneaded the ground in confusion.
“You can be with me here.”
Tigerheart felt like a huge paw was pushing down on his head. He couldn’t bear to look up at her, because he feared what he would see in her eyes. Disappointment? Betrayal?
“Tigerheart?” She was searching his gaze now, fear sparking in her eyes. “You gave up ShadowClan to be here with me, right?”
Grief swept through him like a storm tearing through forest. “I . . . I guess I didn’t know it might be forever,” he meowed helplessly.
“And now because some cat has a dream,” she hissed, “you want to go back? I seem to remember it was not so long ago that you weren’t taking dreams quite so seriously.”
Tigerheart felt a pang of guilt, but stood up straight and looked at her. “Do you really believe we can stay away from our Clans forever? Can you really raise our kits here? They’ll never know what it’s like to have Clanmates, or to have a mentor, or to be willing to fight for their territory.” He stared at her. “You want to raise our kits as strays?”
Pain flashed suddenly across Dovewing’s face.
Tigerheart’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he yowled, pressing himself against her. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. . . .”
Dovewing gasped and staggered. “It’s not that, you mouse-brain!”
Panic flashed in her eyes. She shot him a desperate look as she dropped into a crouch. Heart pounding in his ears, he scanned the den for a healer.
Fierce was already crossing the floor toward them. She flicked her tail toward Spire. “Dovewing needs help.”
Spire hurried to join her.
“What’s wrong with her?” Tigerheart wailed as they reached him.
Dovewing panted beside him. “The kits are coming.”
Terrified, Tigerheart turned to Spire. “Is it time?”
Spire blinked at him calmly. “I think that your kits have decided it is.”