Tigerclaw’s Fury

Tigerclaw felt a surge of pride. This was his territory now; he knew every hunting trick his ancestors had ever thought up. He shrugged as if it was no big deal and shouldered his way past an elder bush, drooping with heavy white flowers. The scent tickled his nose and almost made him sneeze, but he stopped when he heard a soft crackle on the other side of the bush. Peering through, Tigerclaw spotted three light brown shapes slipping between a pair of tall ash trees, along a trail that led to the border. A ThunderClan patrol! He squinted, identifying Mousefur, Runningwind, and Thornclaw. A memory flashed into Tigerclaw’s mind of those three cats sneering at him as he padded from the ThunderClan camp for the last time. Each one had treated him no better than a captured prisoner, battered and defeated by their precious kittypet. Tigerclaw felt a slow flame of rage burn in his belly.

This was too good an opportunity to miss. “ShadowClan cats!” he yowled over his shoulder. “Attack!”

Chapter 6

Tigerclaw exploded through the bush and launched himself onto Runningwind’s narrow brown back. The warrior dropped beneath him like a stone. Tigerclaw let his talons sink into Runningwind’s throat and fought back a yowl of delight as blood welled up around his paws. Behind him he heard Mousefur and Thornclaw racing away, their paw steps rapidly fading in the direction of the camp. “Cowards!” Tigerclaw spat.

“Great StarClan!” gasped Russetfur. “You’ve killed him!”

Tigerclaw stepped off Runningwind’s unmoving body. “He should have reacted more quickly,” he mewed.

Whitethroat padded forward on trembling legs and lowered his nose to sniff Runningwind’s pelt. “But… he wasn’t expecting to be attacked! He was just on a patrol.”

“A good warrior is always ready,” growled Tigerclaw. “Now, who is going to help me find the others?”

Clawface scraped his paw along the ground. “For what reason? We have trespassed on their territory. You’ve killed a warrior! We don’t want to drag our Clanmates into a battle with ThunderClan. We are not yet strong enough for that!”

Tigerclaw let his hackles rise. “There is always a reason to attack another Clan! More territory, better prey, the chance to prove how strong you are!”

“But we’re not strong,” Ratscar protested. “And we don’t want to take over ThunderClan’s territory or hunt their prey.”

In the distance, they heard cats approaching fast, crashing through undergrowth, not caring how much prey they scared away. Clawface stepped forward. “Tigerclaw, we came here to hunt, not to fight. This is not a battle we can win. Not yet.”

Russetfur shifted her paws. “We need to get out of here!”

Tigerclaw forced the fur along his spine to lie flat. Make them think it’s your decision to retreat, not theirs, warned the voice in his head. Otherwise this could be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. “Fine. This warrior”—he kicked Runningwind’s body and it shuddered like a leaf in the wind—“will be a clear enough message that ShadowClan is growing powerful again.” He flicked his tail in the moment before Clawface, Russetfur, and Ratscar plunged into the elder bush and raced back to the Thunderpath. I gave you the signal to retreat! Remember that!

Whitethroat stayed where he was, his muzzle buried in the dead warrior’s still-warm fur. “Are you coming?” Tigerclaw snarled. Whitethroat didn’t move. “Waiting for your ThunderClan friends to arrive, are you?” Tigerclaw spat. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. Know this, Whitethroat. You won’t be welcome in ShadowClan again, I promise.”

“It’s this way!” Mousefur screeched from the other side of a clump of bracken. “Hurry!”

Tigerclaw lifted his head and sniffed. Beneath the acrid tang of the Thunderpath, he detected Fireheart and Whitestorm, closing in on him fast. Much as he longed to stay and watch them grieve for Runningwind, he knew he couldn’t take them all on. He turned and slipped into the elder bush just as Fireheart pounded into the clearing beneath the ash trees.

“He’s dead!” Whitethroat wailed.

Tigerclaw burst out from the bush and tore along the trail through the bracken. Brittle fronds whipped his pelt and stung his eyes. He stopped, flanks heaving, on the edge of the Thunderpath. Suddenly, to Tigerclaw’s astonishment, Whitethroat appeared a little way off, struggling through the brambles. He was wide-eyed and panting, and blood smeared his cheek.

Is he leading an attack on ShadowClan? Tigerclaw wondered, bracing himself to run and warn the others. Traitor!

Fireheart scrambled out behind Whitethroat, and the black-and-white warrior whipped his head around to stare at the ginger cat.

Bring whoever you want! I will kill them all! Tigerclaw vowed.