All the cats at Fourtrees—including his own—go silent at Scourge's approach. Tigerstar watches them, wanting to yowl in triumph, for if he hasn't won, then they are fools who don't know when to quit. But—
"I don't care for your terms, Tigerstar," Scourge mews, quite unconcerned.
"Traitor!" Tigerstar shrieks, leaping on him. But Scourge's next movement is too quick for Tigerstar to see. And there is pain blossoming at his belly, an inferno…he pulls away, somehow, from Scourge's teeth-lengthened claws, stumbles away.
He is going to die.
He collapses somewhere. He's not sure where, and then everything fades and shifts, and he sees StarClan warriors gazing down at him, surrounding in a springtime, star-studded version of the clearing he has just left.
"Watch," Bluestar meows, padding close to his head. He tries to roll away from her, but she pins him with a single paw as if he were nothing more than a feisty kit. "I said 'look,'" she hisses, and he has no choice.
Fourtrees is in shock. The cats all heave away from Scourge, who seems almost surprised that Tigerstar is not dead at his paws. But then Tigerstar sees why it is he had a chance to escape at all. The kittypet had knocked Scourge away, and Scourge is eying him in something like intrigue. "Have we met?" he mews, tilting his head, his icy eyes sharp.
"I think you're confusing me with another cat," Firestar replies, the fur along his back standing on end.
"Three days," Scourge goes on, shaking his head as if to dislodge any more questions. "Three days, and then you shall meet us here. My Clan is hungry, and your forest is large. We will fight quite eagerly."
"We'll be here," Firestar meows. Tallstar dips his head, standing at Firestar's shoulder.
"And now you must return," Bluestar sighs. "I doubt we'll be seeing you here again, Tigerclaw." And she pounces, grabs him about the throat, and heaves…
The feeling of falling back into his body is enough to fully rouse him. The pain that greets him nearly has him vomiting. He didn't make it far from the clearing, is sprawled beneath a bush on one of the slopes. BloodClan cats stream past, heads and tails held high, their reek enough to choke him. No one stops, though surely they notice the blood.
Tigerstar curls in on himself. The wound that killed him is gone, but soreness radiates outward from the spot where it had been. He hisses, lets his head fall forward, squeezes his eyes shut.
What is he to do, now? They have seen him humiliated. Would they follow him now?
"Tigerstar."
No, not you. Anyone but you.
One of Firestar's paws jabs him… but it's almost gentle. Tigerstar gives a soft mewl in protest.
"Oh, so you didn't lose all your lives like we all thought you must have. That was a deep wound he gave you."
"Go away, Fireheart," he spits.
Firestar crouches beside him, pressing his face close. "Firestar, you know. But that's not why I'm here."
"Do enlighten me, then." He feels the rasp of Firestar's tongue against one of his ears, and flicks the ear in question in deepest…annoyance, he assures himself. What else could it be?
"We need to drive BloodClan out," Firestar meows. "You brought them here. You need to help fix the mess you've made."
This is enough to bring him struggling into a proper crouch, though he cannot put weight on his right foreleg. "We'll destroy ThunderClan first."
"And when ThunderClan is dead? Who will help you drive BloodClan out? Scourge could attack you again, and get in a worse gouge than that."
"I'll deal with it when you are dead."
Firestar rolls his eyes. "Right. Four Clans alone will be enough, not just two."
Tigerstar, weary as he is, heaves himself onto three paws and stalks toward Firestar, tail lashing. "Why did you come after me, kittypet?" he hisses. "To finish me off?"
Firestar holds his ground. "No—"
"You won't have the chance." Tigerstar leaps at him—great StarClan it hurts! —and catches him a blow on the shoulder with his uninjured forepaw. But Firestar had been expecting it, and easily bats him away. Tigerstar stumbles back, Firestar pushing forward. Their eyes meet, burning. Tigerstar swipes a paw out again, but Firestar catches it between his teeth and then drops it to leap on Tigerstar's back, pinning him.
"I could kill you now," Firestar meows. "Finish what Scourge started. Lead all four Clans against BloodClan myself." His voice squeaks like a kit's, and the fear scent is strong on him.
"You don't have the guts," Tigerstar wheezes.
But maybe he's wrong. Firestar's teeth are at his throat, going deep. Then—
It's not StarClan, this time. It's a place with dark, gnarled trees and glowing fungus and no prey scent. Tigerstar yowls. "No, what is this?" But even as he paces, waiting for his return, he can't help a bit of admiration. For the kittypet had just…
Won against him. Directly. Had given him a killing bite. Why?
The return is less painful this time, but he's weaker. Firestar crouches a few mouse-lengths away, washing what must be Tigerstar's own blood from his fur. "Will you listen to me now?" he meows, raising his head. "Do you really want all the Clans to be destroyed like this?"
"I don't have a better nature for you to appeal to," Tigerstar sighs. "I don't know why you didn't kill me again." But the memory of that place without stars hushes him, and he closes his eyes and flattens his ears.
"Why don't you sleep?" Firestar suggests. "I have a Clan to see to."
"I don't take suggestions from you," Tigerstar yawns. But he must be too tired to ignore it.
#
Firestar pads back to Fourtrees, where RiverClan and ShadowClan are waiting, heads bent and fur bristling. "Is he dead?" Leopardstar asks, hurrying to meet him.
"No," Firestar replies. "He's lost a couple lives, and he's too weak to fight any cat."
"What a mousebrain," she spits. "That cat could have taken all his lives at once."
Blackfoot, still huddled with the rest, hisses.
"Will you follow him, if he returns?" Firestar asks them.
Leopardstar shakes her head, annoyed. "This is a threat that affects all of us, and he has brought it here."
"Will you fight with ThunderClan and WindClan, in three days?"
Blackfoot doesn't answer, but neither does he refuse. Leopardstar considers Firestar, her mottled head tilted to one side. "We'll think about it. You'll have our answer the night before." The two of them lead their straggling cats away. Firestar watches them go.
"WindClan will fight with you," Tallstar meows, glaring pointedly after the TigerClan—no longer TigerClan, he supposes—cats. "No consideration necessary."
Firestar purrs in gratitude.
(If Tigerstar had properly died, he thinks, how would things be now?)
He goes back to where Tigerstar sleeps, only to find Tawnypaw waiting there. "This isn't a time for apprentices to be out alone," he reprimands.
"I had to know!" she protests. Tigerstar doesn't even stir at the sound of their voices, so thoroughly asleep is he.
"Is Bramblepaw here too?" Firestar doesn't smell him, is sure he'd seen him with Brackenfur or Goldenflower.
"No," Tawnypaw mutters. "He doesn't care."
"And you do?"
She noses Tigerstar's side, almost disbelieving. She's never done it before, he's sure. "I don't know. He isn't kind. Most of TigerClan is afraid of him."
"It wasn't always like that," Firestar murmurs, remembering how popular Tigerclaw had been in ThunderClan, how much he himself had looked up to him before Ravenpaw admitted what he'd seen, before Tigerclaw had tried to kill him…
And Goldenflower must have seen something, too. Firestar doesn't have to wonder about that one, not after the night they'd spent at Sunningrocks. (But no one need know.)
"Hurry back," he tells Tawnypaw heavily.
"But you said apprentices shouldn't be out alone," she reminds him, her mew going pitchy.
"I'll take you, obviously."
He doesn't have to take her all the way into TigerClan territory, for Oakfur, her mentor, had gone back along their trail to find her. "Oh, thank StarClan!" he says, cuffing her gently on one ear. "Don't run off like that!"
"But I had to see Tigerstar."
"Hush, and follow me back to camp." Firestar can hear her protests long after they've vanished into the undergrowth.
Tigerstar, sound asleep, looks almost harmless. His claws are sheathed and his fur lies flat. One paw covers his face, and his tail curls neatly to rest on his nose. Firestar watches him for a moment. Even a monster like this can be a cat like any other.
It is almost strange to see his flanks rise and fall with each breath, knowing that he himself had killed him, knowing that he had died already before. Firestar presses his nose into Tigerstar's fur, almost like Tawnypaw had done, and breathes in the scent of ThunderClan trees and ShadowClan bogs, but now that scent is almost entirely obscured by the remnants of blood caked on his softer belly fur.
He should leave him here.
Sighing, Firestar pads moss about him, drags a lone, fallen branch over in front of the makeshift nest. Tigerstar can't be seen now, unless some cat knows to look for him here. On a whim, Firestar crushes the berries of a nearby patch of holly, to obscure the scent of fresh blood further.
#
He dreams.
Of a different world in which Scourge tears him open, throat to tail, and he loses all nine lives in a wash of blood and keening. Firestar looks on, and it is not satisfaction in his eyes. Is it…grief?
Foolish kittypet, he thinks savagely. Who would mourn his enemy?
And yet what if Scourge does the same to Firestar? Firestar is a pest, but he is also comforting in his predictability and…
Tigerstar wakes, shivering. It's dark, and he hears the sound of an owl calling, of a strange cat yowling. He wishes for another cat's warmth, remembers with annoyance that Firestar is the only one with whom he has curled up with shared tongues with since Goldenflower.
Firestar's scent washes over him. It is all ThunderClan, no hint at anything before. And, he supposes, there is no reason it should. When Firestar curls around him, he relaxes against him, and hates that he does.
#
"You left the camp again last night." Mistyfoot of all cats confronts Firestar upon his return, as he drops a mouse on the fresh-kill pile.
"I was searching for Tigerstar," he mews.
"All night long?" she presses, dubious.
"He needs to be found."
"Where a BloodClan cat might ambush you?"
"They're cowards on their own," he retorts.
"Of course." Mistyfoot stretches onto her hind paws, then drops onto all fours. He is reminded irresistibly of Bluestar as she does, and wonders what she would think of his near-treachery. (But it doesn't feel much like treachery, when he's certain Tigerstar isn't mad enough to let all the Clans die.)
Bramblepaw comes racing out of the apprentice's den, tail flicking in excitement. "Will we train today? I want to be ready for the battle."
Firestar sees Tigerstar in him, but not as he now is, laid up and weary, but as he once was.
"Of course," he replies with a determinedly easy mew. "All the apprentices will have some battle move review in the training hollow." Mistyfoot nods her assent.
"We'll be there," she assures him.
"In fact…" Firestar sees Graystripe at the fresh-kill and gestures him over. "Why don't we have some training for everyone? Kits and elders included. Would you oversee that?"
"Of course." Graystripe nods, gazing thoughtfully around at the cats already in the clearing.
Training is not so simple, though. Firestar is tired, while Bramblepaw is terribly enthusiastic. "Is something wrong, Firestar?" Bramblepaw mews, shuffling his front paws, his claws digging into the sandy ground.
"Wrong?" Firestar bends his head to hide his yawn, but Bramblepaw must catch it anyway.
"Why don't you leave Bramblepaw with Featherpaw and me?" Mistyfoot cuts in. "It will do them some good to learn each other's fighting patterns."
"Right." Firestar leaves them to it. Instead of going back to rest in camp, however, he heads back to where Tigerstar lies.
He's just sitting up to wash as Firestar arrives. The blood caked on his fur comes away slowly, and his nose wrinkles (almost adorably) at the taste. "Kittypet," he hisses, resigned.
"Do you need anything?" Firestar meows. "I should be training apprentices, but here I am."
"Like my wayward kit?" Tigerstar's ears prick in interest.
"He's shaping up to be quite brilliant," Firestar admits.
"Naturally." Tigerstar stands, pacing forward cautiously. Firestar notes a heavy limp. Scourge had caught him a blow behind his right foreleg, and, since that part of his injury had not been fatal, it had yet to heal. "A proper medicine cat would be ideal," he notes archly. "If you're so desperate for my help."
"I don't know of any that would be willing to treat you—"
"Mouse-brain," Tigerstar sighs. "Your bleeding-hearted kit of a medicine cat would jump at the opportunity, as would Runningnose, I suspect."
Firestar shakes his head. "I don't think you knew Runningnose at all. But Cinderpelt…" It was worth asking her, but even she might say that he should finish Scourge's job.
What would Bluestar have done? She had sheltered Yellowfang, then Brokentail—at Yellowfang's insistence, but sheltered him all the same. Would she have done what he was now doing? (Would she have spent a night with Tigerstar, though? He rather doubted it.)
"I'll ask," he decides aloud. "Can you hunt, or—"
"Does it look like I can hunt?"
"You could be exaggerating your injuries so I feel more pity for you," Firestar mutters.
"That's true, I could be." Tigerstar twitches an ear. "Not bad, Firestar, not bad." He attempts a crouch, but lists heavily to one side with a hiss of pain. "Although hunting does seem beyond me."
Firestar nods and goes off to find him something. There is little prey nearby, likely scared off by the scent of Tigerstar's blood. When he does manage to find something, he's ranged almost the entire way back to Fourtrees, and his exhaustion has only deepened.
The things he does for him, Firestar laments, dropping the mouse at Tigerstar's paws and flopping at the edge of his nest. Tigerstar stretches forward, and— The way in which his tongue passes over Firestar's ears is terribly soothing, and Firestar lets his head rest upon his paws. The Clan will be fine without him today. They will, they will.
Bluestar pads about his dreams. "I'd ask what you're doing, but I understand. Just save my Clan, Firestar. That's all I ask."
"I will," he promises, the guilt churning in his gut. "I will."
He wakes, well-rested, ready to return.
#
Tigerstar should hate this. He should hate that he is dependent upon his enemy's mercy. He should…
If he truly hated it, he would have left. Somehow. But perhaps that is only his need for vengeance upon Scourge for his betrayal. Not because he wishes to stay. Of course not.
He should find where BloodClan has gone. … No. No, that wouldn't help. Scourge would finish what he'd started, and given Tigerstar's current state, he would invariably succeed.
So, he must remain here. After the battle then, he will figure out his best course.
He goes back to waiting.
#
The next days are more of the same. BloodClan has taken residence in ShadowClan's territory. Mistyfoot and the two apprentices work harder than almost any cat in the Clan, and Firestar can only tell them they don't have to. Everyone will fight on equal terms.
"We want to rejoin RiverClan," Stormpaw tells him. "We want them to take us back."
But would they? Firestar has no idea.
But that's a small thing, isn't it? What would his own Clan do, when they find out…
"Cinderpelt," he meows, sticking his head into her den. She's sorting and re-sorting herbs, her gray fur rumpled and unwashed, and he can't help but think of Yellowfang. She glances over at him quizzically.
"What is it?" Her voice rasps from disuse, and she clears her throat.
"There's a cat that I would like you to take a look at." Firestar can't quite bring himself to meet her eyes, instead fixing upon a tightly-wrapped bundle of berries near her left paw.
"Really?" Cinderpelt's mew drips skepticism. "What sort of cat?"
"Out in the forest," he replies.
She sighs, gathering up a clump of cobwebs and what he guesses to be horsetail. "The cat you've been going out to see."
"That's the one."
She shakes her head hard enough that her ears flap. "Lead the way."
They make good time, but the journey is interminable. "So, he's going to—what?—help drive BloodClan off?" Cinderpelt mews as soon as they're out of earshot of the camp.
"That's the idea, yeah."
"And you believe him?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Firestar flattens his ears.
Cinderpelt rolls her eyes. "If I have to explain, then…" She breaks off, the rest of the sentence hanging, unspoken. Firestar trips over a root as he watches her, and she trills in sympathy as he hisses and shakes the soreness from his paw.
Cinderpelt is brisk in her greeting, to which Tigerstar barely inclines his head. "You're lucky to be alive," she notes.
"That mousebrain saved me. It wasn't luck."
"He is a mousebrain," she agrees, chewing the horsetail into a pulp. He breathes in sharply as she treats the wound, which has stopped bleeding entirely. "You brought this on yourself, and you deserve worse," she goes on, eyes blazing.
Firestar is certain she's going to get clawed for her efforts, but Tigerstar just lies back, fur unruffled. "What does any cat deserve?" he murmurs cryptically.
"Oh, let's see." Cinderpelt's purr is mocking. "Gorsepaw certainly deserved to be murdered in cold blood."
"It was nothing personal. I was making a point."
At this, both Firestar and Cinderpelt bristle and flatten their ears. Cinderpelt draws the unused herbs into a bundle and turns away. "I've done all I can do for you," she spits over her shoulder. "Firestar, I hope you're happy." And she stalks off, her tail high.
"Did you forget, Firestar?" Tigerstar meows when she's out of sight, and his voice is almost kind.
"No," Firestar replies shortly.
The silence stretches between them, tenuous as the threads of cobweb Cinderpelt had wound about Tigerstar's foreleg.
"Let's take a walk," Tigerstar suggests, and Firestar nods his assent. They retrace the trail to Fourtrees, Tigerstar's limp quite pronounced. He grits his teeth and refuses Firestar's offer of a shoulder to lean against.
"In two days, this will be a field of blood," Firestar meows darkly, remembering the vision from his leader ceremony, remembering the hill of bones that stood in the TigerClan camp. Had they torn it down? he wonders. He expects they have. Leopardstar is not the type to leave such a blatant mark of failure in place.
"Theirs more than yours," Tigerstar replies. "BloodClan has cats, but you have training and proper prey."
"Not 'we'?" Firestar snaps.
"Hmm." Tigerstar pads to the base of the Great Rock and looks up at the top.
"I don't think you should try—"
"I wasn't going to, until you implied that I couldn't." With that, Tigerstar leaps, the claws of his uninjured paw scraping almost halfway up. He hisses, but makes it to the top nonetheless.
"Enjoy that. I hope there are future Gatherings for any cat to stand there, no thanks to you." Firestar bounds up beside him.
Tigerstar tosses his head, but doesn't bother to reply.
And they stand there, gazing out over the clearing. Firestar remembers his very first Gathering, when he overheard Ravenpaw's tale to the RiverClan and ShadowClan apprentices, and watched Tigerclaw's annoyance. He suspects, now, that that it had been quite an unusual Gathering, and wonders if the prophecy of fire saving the Clan was… But no, that's too much to think about.
Tigerstar is lost in thought, too, and Firestar can't imagine what of.
The shadows lengthen. The rock chills beneath their paws. "Firestar," Tigerstar finally meows.
Firestar pricks his ears. "Yes?"
"I don't know what you expect after tomorrow, but I won't go quietly away."
"Right." Firestar knew this, but hoped that maybe…
"And I have no intention of being any Clan's prisoner. They know what I've done, thanks to you."
"What, then?"
Tigerstar presses close, and it's such a similar position to that night before BloodClan came that Firestar feels almost weak with the memory of it. Tigerstar's breath is warm as he hisses in his ear. "The Clans are quite forgiving of impulsive heroism, aren't they?" He purrs. "I suppose we'll see."
Getting down from the Great Rock is far more difficult than climbing it had been. Tigerstar leans heavily against Firestar as they claw their way down, and both of them are panting when they hit the ground.
#
The morning of the battle dawns cold and wet, the scent of Leaf-bare on the wind. Firestar exits his den and takes stock of the cats already in the clearing. Everyone is already up and about, all of them as anxious as he is. Willowpelt's kits bounce around in excitement, mewling about the BloodClan cats they hope to attack. "Hush!" she hisses. "Listen to what Speckletail tells you to do, and don't leave the camp."
They promise not to, their eagerness unabated.
Sandstorm gives Firestar a reassuring sort of look. "What does BloodClan have that we don't?" she meows. "We'll pull through." She touches her nose to his flank, and guilt twists as he returns the gesture. What would she say if she knew where he'd been going? Well, he supposes, after the battle…They'll all know.
WindClan is waiting for them. Tallstar crouches at the head of his cats, his fur determinedly flat. "Well met, Firestar." He dips his head. Firestar returns the gesture, his mouth dry.
RiverClan and ShadowClan arrive with their heads high and tails straight…mostly. Tawnypaw drags her paws a bit, looking worried. Firestar gives her a nod, which she doesn't return.
BloodClan floods down the slope from ShadowClan territory, Scourge hidden amongst the first wave of cats. But they hear his mew easily enough, harsh and brittle, carrying through the cool morning air like a breeze: "Attack!"
In the sudden spill of cats, Firestar cannot find Scourge at all. Tiny as he is, he can weave in and out of the fighting, and no cat will see. Firestar bares his teeth, leaps on the back of a tortoiseshell that had intended to sneak up on him, and sends her screeching away with several quick blows to the ears.
Where is Scourge? Better question, would Tigerstar join in?
Firestar hasn't spotted him yet, either. Probably for the best, maybe, since he isn't in best fighting shape…
"Firestar, stop thinking and get your claws out!" Sandstorm rolls past, tangled with a gray tabby twice her size. Firestar blinks and jumps into a muddle of cats, including several ShadowClan warriors, Mistyfoot, and Willowpelt.
When he does spot Scourge—his mouth full of stinking fur and the taste of blood, Firestar can't do much about it. Scourge skulks near the base of the Great Rock, his teeth-claws raised. No cat dares go near him. Firestar pushes his way across the clearing, but gets sidetracked by Whitestorm and Bone.
As Whitestorm breathes his last, gazing at Firestar with complete trust and respect, Firestar can only feel relief that he never knew of his dalliance with Tigerstar.
And then he's across the clearing, directly in front of Scourge. "I do know you," Scourge mews by way of greeting, eyes flat and hostile. "You look like my father." He spits.
Firestar leaps but then there are hisses of surprise in the cats nearest them, and the fighting halts for the barest second. Firestar looks up, certain of what he'll see. But then he's knocked aside by Tigerstar.
"He's mine, kittypet," he hisses, managing to leave a long scratch down Scourge's flank. Scourge almost purrs.
"You did survive. Don't worry. I can finish what I started easily enough." Tigerstar, out of breath from his race across the clearing, almost doesn't move out of the way in time. But Scourge is distracted long enough for Firestar to creep up from his other side and knock his paws from under him. He tries to pin him, but Scourge wriggles. "Help me!" Firestar meows to Tigerstar. Once, so long ago, he had yowled it when at Leopardfur's mercy, and Tigerstar ignored him.
(And yet it is almost a repetition of another scene, when Fireheart had begged an injured Bluestar to help him.)
Firestar is not ignored this time.
Tigerstar, his wounds bleeding heavily again, pounces and presses Scourge's shoulders into the ground, then manages to nip at his neck. Scourge spits, his paws scrabbling for purchase. Blood sluices down his chest, but there is not enough of it for Tigerstar's bite to have been fatal. It is, however, enough to weaken him.
"Can't finish what you start?" Scourge coughs. "How typical."
Tigerstar's second bite is quick, too quick for Scourge to pull away, too quick for thought. And when Scourge hacks for air, more blood pouring from the wound, his eyes fix not on Tigerstar, but Firestar. There is still that familiarity in them, and Firestar can only guess…
Scourge was his brother.
Kin to one monster, ally (friend? Would-be mate?) to another. What does that make him?
A BloodClan ginger nearby catches sight of Scourge's rapidly stiffening corpse as Tigerstar and Firestar stumble away from it. "Scourge is dead!" the ginger yowls in terror, and flees from the clearing with her tail tucked down. Her Clanmates begin to follow, first in trickles, then in droves. The triumphant Clans yowl after them, rearing up, tails high. It's a wonderful sight to behold, and Firestar wishes he could enjoy it more.
Tigerstar is almost immediately surrounded: by ShadowClan cats that congratulate him, by ThunderClan and WindClan cats that spit in rage. Firestar looks on.
"He came back, the mangy fleabag," Graystripe mews beside him, cleaning dust and blood from his thick fur.
"And he helped us," Firestar agrees.
"Only to save his own pelt," Graystripe counters.
No, Firestar thinks. Not quite. But he's not prepared to disagree, not when the Clan is so relieved to be alive, not when Sandstorm is streaking toward him, triumphant. Not when he's nuzzling her, then sees Goldenflower and her kits rubbing up against each other and purring in relief. Not when…
Tigerstar stands unsteadily, bleeding from his reopened wounds. Firestar leaves Sandstorm and Graystripe, heart in his throat.
"We should kill him now, so he doesn't have another chance to harm us," Dustpelt is mewing.
"I don't think we should decide right now," Tallstar says. "We are tired and injured."
"Tallstar's right." Firestar pads to the head of the crowd. "ThunderClan will keep him prisoner. We have a reputation to maintain."
"The least surprising thing I've ever heard," someone mutters, while there a mix of hisses and exasperated laughs.
Tigerstar dips his head, eyes blank.