MagiStream

StormClan

Leader
Rainstar- beautiful light gray she-cat with pale blue eyes
Apprentice, Squirrelpaw

Deputy
Hollyleaf- black she-cat with green eyes

Medicine Cat
Jayfeather- gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

Warriors
Crowfeather- dark gray tom with blue eyes

Mossflower- gray she-cat with green eyes
Apprentice, Ashpaw

Swiftstep- black-and-white tom with amber eyes

Ravenwing- black tom with a white-tipped tail and green eyes

Barleyface- black-and-white tom with yellow eyes

Stormtail- dark gray she-cat with blue eyes

Lionblaze- golden tabby tom with amber eyes

Breezepelt- dark gray tom with amber eyes

Darkheart- black tom with pale yellow eyes

Sunfire- tawny-gold tom with green eyes

Blazingrose- tawny-brown she-cat with green eyes

Grayclaw- gray tom with yellow eyes

Apprentices
Squirrelpaw- light brown tabby she-cat with green eyes

Ashpaw- dark gray she-cat with blue eyes

Queens
Fawnstep- tabby she-cat with blue eyes, mother of Ravenwing’s kits: Falconkit, Batkit, and Starkit

Robinwing- light gray she-cat with green eyes, adoptive mother of the rogue kits: Ragkit, Stonekit, and Icekit

Moonclaw- long-haired black she-cat with ice blue eyes, mother of Lionblaze’s kits: Wolfkit, Goldenkit, and Dawnkit

Kits
Falconkit- black tom with a cream underbelly and green eyes

Batkit- light brown tom with black tabby stripes and green eyes

Starkit- cream-colored she-cat with blue eyes

Ragkit- small golden-brown she-cat with green eyes and white paws

Stonekit- dark gray tom with a black-tipped tail and light amber eyes

Icekit- white she-cat with a black-tipped tail and dark blue eyes

Wolfkit- black tom with amber eyes

Goldenkit- golden tabby she-cat with black stripes and green eyes

Dawnkit- light cream-colored she-cat with amber eyes

Elders
Purdy- scrawny silver tabby tom with amber eyes

Sparrowheart- tawny-brown tom with yellow eyes, retired early due to injuries inflicted by the wolverines

BloodClan

Shard- big long-haired back she-cat with icy blue eyes, leader of BloodClan and mate of Scourge

Fox- ginger tom with a white underbelly and black paws, Shard’s second-in-command

Cats Outside of the Clans

Henriette- light brown she-cat with green eyes, a kittypet

Romeow- dark tortoiseshell tom with blue eyes, Henriette’s best friend

Sugar- small white she-cat with black spots and amber-green eyes

Smoky- gray tom with amber-green eyes, Sugar’s brother

Leaf- tortoiseshell she-cat with ice blue eyes

Hawk- tabby-and-white she-cat with green eyes, Leaf’s niece

Coal- black tom

Ghost- small dark gray she-cat with darker spots and stripes and green eyes

Snarl- big dusky brown tom with amber eyes

The night was cold. The tom had no way to compare it to anything, for it had always been cold where he was now. And he had been there for a very long time. Too long.

His guest, on the other hand, had never been there before, and she fluffed up her fur against the chill. “Is it always this cold here?" she asked in a hard, gelid tone that made ice seem warm.

“This place never changes," the tom meowed, sinking his long talons into the frozen earth. He looked over the she-cat. She was very large, with long black fur that made her blend in with the surroundings so thoroughly that he found himself looking into her icy eyes to keep from losing sight of her. It was her eyes that disturbed him; they were an icy blue that he had never seen before, not even in the eyes of his own son, Hawkfrost. They were unnatural, more unnatural than the dried-blood eyes of the wolverine, Gulo, before his untimely death three moons earlier. The she-cat's fur and eyes, as well as her collar studded with the teeth of the dogs and cats she herself had personally slain, were very familiar to the tom.

She looked a lot like her dead mate.

“So why bring me out here, Tigerstar?" the she-cat asked, trailing a dog-tooth-reinforced claw across the dirt almost reflectively. “It's hardly romantic."

The cat named Tigerstar purred. “Hardly," he agreed. “I brought you here, Shard, because I am in need of your... services."

Shard narrowed her eyes to ice-colored slits. “Services?"

“Yes. BloodClan has the greatest number of fighting cats that I'm aware of."

“Not any longer," growled Shard. “Since Scourge died, our numbers have dwindled. Cats don't have backbones anymore, that's for certain."

“I'm aware," meowed Tigerstar patiently. “But fear can motivate even the most spineless of cats."

“You sound like you know what you're talking about." observed Shard.

“I have experience in the subject," Tigerstar said simply.

“So let me get this straight: you want me and my cats to take someone out for you, is that right?"

“It is."

Shard curled her lips. “I don't see why I should help any Clan cat. That's what you are, I can smell your Clan stink from moons away. I'm not helping you, no matter what the reward."

“I was a Clan cat," agreed Tigerstar. “Now I want you to eradicate a Clan for me."

Shard narrowed her eyes, taken aback. She hadn't been expecting this. “Eradicate?"

“Kill, slaughter, do with what you wish," Tigerstar explained.

“I know what it means!" spat Shard.

“So will you do it?" asked Tigerstar.

Shard's lip curled back to expose sharp yellow fangs. “It was a Clan cat who destroyed my mate and ended the reign of BloodClan. I've been its sole leader ever since, and I've had to watch BloodClan fall apart at the seams."

“With the Clan cats dead, BloodClan will rise again," Tigerstar meowed, whisking the tip off a blade of grass with one claw. “You will be even stronger than it was before Scourge died."

“I have no reason to aid you." Shard's voice went deadly quiet. “Clan cats are my enemies."

“I have even less of a reason to align myself with BloodClan," growled Tigerstar, raising his hackles.

Shard didn't flinch, but she shifted ever so slightly. “And why is that?"

“It was your mate, Scourge, who killed me," meowed Tigerstar.

Shard's eyes widened. “So you're telling me that you're dead? Don't be ridiculous."

“I'm not being ridiculous," Tigerstar told her.

Shard narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. Then she said, “So pretend that I believe you. Why should align myself with a dead cat who's already lost his battle?"

“Because you and I both want the same thing."

“And that would be...?"

Tigerstar's amber eyes grew very intense. “Revenge," he growled.

“Revenge on a Clan?" Shard tilted her head to one side. “And yet you were once part of one. Don't you Clan cats have an ounce of loyalty in you?"

Tigerstar curled his lips back in what a Twoleg would call a grin. “Not all of them."

"Squirrelpaw is upset," remarked a small brown tabby she-cat, watching a ginger she-cat of the same size padding away from her.

"She deserves to be," mewed an older dark gray she-cat firmly, looking up from a pile of berries. "If apprentices think they can go off by themselves, without telling any cat, then where would we be?"

"I know," sighed the younger tabby. Henriette felt an anger that was not her own churn in her belly, but she somehow knew it did not belong to the tabby either. She seemed to serene and softhearted to really get angry at anyone. So how is she feeling anger when she's not mad? Henriette wondered.

"Squirrelpaw will be fine," the dark gray she-cat reassured the younger cat. "It'll all be forgotten tomorrow. Now, did you get any of that mouse bile on your fur? If you did, you'd better go and wash it off."

"No, Cinderpelt, I'm fine," the tabby mewed, sounding a little strained.

"Cheer up." The dark gray cat, Cinderpelt, padded across to the tabby and pressed her muzzle against her side. Henriette noticed that Cinderpelt had a limp, and that her back leg was drawn up to her side. "Do you want to come to the Gathering tonight?"

"May I?' The tabby brightened considerably for a moment, but then he slender shoulders sank. "Squirrelpaw won't be allowed to come, will she?"

"After today? Certainly not!" Cinderpelt's blue eyes glowed with sympathy for the tabby. "Leafpaw, you and your sister aren't kits anymore. And you have chosen a very different path from hers, to be a medicine cat. You will always be friends, but you can't do everything together, and the sooner you both accept that, the better."

Leafpaw nodded, and then the whole peaceful scene disappeared into darkness. Henriette couldn't see anything but black, almost as though her Twolegs had just thrown her out into the cold night, which they would never do. Suddenly she heard an unearthly snarling and howling that chilled every bone in her body.

Henriette woke with a start, her fur standing on end and her bright green eyes wide with fear. The musky warm smell of her house and the sound of the picture box in the other room made her realize that she had just been dreaming.

"Another dream about her." Henriette stretched, allowing the terror of her dream to seep deep into the stone floor of the kitchen as she padded to her food bowl. Taking a mouthful of kibble from the bowl and crunching it down, she reflected, So her name is Leafpaw...

---

“Are you certain?" Coal demanded, leaping to his paws.

Leaf narrowed her eyes. “Coal, I don't just talk to hear my voice, unlike some cats. I saw it with my own eyes."

Hawk nodded erratically beside her. “Me too!" the little she-cat squeaked.

Coal sunk his claws into the wooden floor of his barn, the barn that once belonged to Socks and Ruby. They had new names now, but Coal couldn't remember them. He was actually thinking of Socks just then; what would the former leader of Twolegplace do in this situation?

Coal met Leaf's level ice blue gaze. “If what you say is true, then we might as well accept it." Coal's eyes darkened. “BloodClan is on the move again."

---

Crowfeather gazed down on the cat he loved, his wide, horrified eyes meeting hers.

“Crowfeather," she hissed as she hung over the precipice of death. “Crowfeather, help me!"

Crowfeather couldn't move. She scrabbled at the edge of the rock, her hind feet dangling over the the ThunderClan camp. If she fell, she would surely meet the same, terrible fate that the two ShadowClan cats before her had. Crowfeather would watch her fall, hear her neck snap, hear her shriek. He would hear her Clanmates wail, hear Squirrelflight's scream of grief when she returned to camp to find her sister dead.

“Crowfeather!" Leafpool begged. “I'm going to fall!" Her claws were slipping away from the rain-slicked rock.

Fall. Falling...

Feathertail...

Leafpool's terrified face faded away until Crowfeather could see only Feathertail's serene face, the way she had looked right before she died.

“Feathertail, I'm so sorry!" he whispered hoarsely. “It was all my fault. I shouldn't have let you fall."

“It wasn't your fault." Feathertail's mouth was moving, but it wasn't her voice that was coming out. It was Leafpool's. “Help me, Crowfeather, please!" Leafpool's claws slipped again, and she lunged forward in an attempt to dig them back in. Her back paws scrabbled uselessly against the wall of rock, sending pebbles cascading down into the camp.

Then her paws gave away. She let out a gasp as she fell into empty air, but in that same heartbeat, Crowfeather's teeth met in her scruff. For a single moment, Crowfeather's weight slid towards hers, but he heaved backward, hauling Leafpool back onto solid ground. They both collapsed there, panting. Crowfeather looked at her while she lay there trembling like a kit. They both knew how close to death she had just been.

“Thank you," she mewed, meeting his gaze for a long moment.

“I did it," Crowfeather whispered. “I saved you."

The tense silence between them crackled like a storm in greenleaf. Leafpool commented, “I must be the last cat you would want to save."

Crowfeather looked at her in disbelief, his gaze burning into her. “Is that- Is that what you think?" Her eyes widened as he continued,“Don't you know how I feel about you? And how much I hate myself for feeling that way about another cat so soon after Feathertail's death? I loved her, I really did! How can I love you too?"

Time stopped. Leafpool swayed on her paws. “Me? But-"

“You walk in my dreams, Leafpool," Crowfeather whispered.

“No..." Leafpool breathed, shaking her head vehemently as though shaking away a fly. “You can't love me. I'm a medicine cat..."

LEAFPOOL!

Crowfeather nearly let out a cry as he leaped to his paws, looking around wildly. He was in the warriors' den. At the StormClan camp. Not the WindClan camp. Not the ThunderClan camp. He wasn't at the lake.

Leafpool wasn't alive.

Crowfeather collapsed back into his nest, more weary than he had ever felt before, even on the journey to the sun-drown-place when he had been but an apprentice. He didn't sleep anymore. He closed his eyes, but he didn't rest. He dreamt, nothing more. Every morning he would awaken more tired than he had been when he had laid to rest that night.

He was too frightened to close his eyes, so he just rested his head on his paws. There was no greater pain in the world than dreaming every night of her, and knowing that when he woke up, when tomorrow came, she would still be gone. And that's what he waited for, every night: he pined for tomorrow. Today was endless. Today was painful. Perhaps the thing known as tomorrow would be so much better.

Maybe Leafpool would be waiting for him.

But even if he managed to glimpse the tail end of tomorrow, he could never quite catch it. If he reached out, he might be able to touch it for a moment, but when he grabbed hold, he would find it only an extension of today.

And so he waited in his sleep. He waited for tomorrow to come. And while he waited, he dreamt. He dreamed of the nightmare that he could never wake up from.

And like always, morning came, and today arrived. Because tomorrow isn't real. It's just a term with nothing material to attach it to. Tomorrow is something that only fools wait for.

For you see, tomorrow never comes.

Henriette slumped over her bed with her head on her paws. Her constant dreaming made her tired and grumpy, and a grumpy Henriette had the destructive power of a badger, if a little more subtle. Why does all the weird stuff happen to me? she thought glumly.

Scritch, scritch, scritch.

Henriette pricked her ears and lifted her head. The sound of glass. Glass being clawed at. The sound was as familiar as Henriette’s own heartbeat... and it was as annoying as a Twoleg kit.

Stupid mousebrain. What does he want now?

The stupid mousebrain was a tortoiseshell tomcat, looking through the glass back door with wide blue eyes. He opened his mouth when he saw Henriette looking at him, but she couldn’t hear the words he spoke.

She poked her head through the cat-flap. “You idiot! Do you want to wake the house up?” she demanded cantankerously.

The tom leaped backwards in surprise, his fur poofing up. “You scared me half to death, Henriette!” he exclaimed, a hurt look in his sky-colored eyes.

Henriette rolled her eyes as she slipped out the cat-flap, the warm scents of newleaf tugging at her whiskers. “That’s quite an achievement,” she muttered.

“What?” asked the tom innocently.

“Nothing.” Henriette sighed. He might have been her best friend, but he was as useless as a flightless bird. “So what did you come by for, Romeow?”

He tilted his head to one side, his soft eyes narrowing in concern. “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

“Who said I was in a bad mood?” snorted Henriette, stretching the kinks of her supple leg muscles.

Romeow’s whiskers twitched.

“So what do you want?” Henriette asked again.

Romeow wasn’t hurt by Henriette’s brisk, unfriendly tone; he was about used to it. “I thought that you might need some cheering up. You’re looking haggard.”

Henriette barely bit back the reply, “I look haggard because I can’t get a decent night’s sleep, you idiot!” But instead she mewed, “I’m fine, Romeow. Don’t worry about me.”

Romeow scoffed, leaping atop Henriette’s fence. “You say that every time!” Romeow deepened his tone to match Henriette’s voice. “I’m fine. But I know that every time you say that, you’re an inch from toppling off your paws.” Just as he finished the sentence, he tried to pad forward, but he placed his paws wrong and fell spectacularly from the top of the fence, landing in a less-than-graceful heap into a juniper bush.

“Speaking of falling off one’s paws,” chuckled Henriette. She couldn’t help it; no matter how bad a mood she was in, Romeow always found a way to cheer her up.

Romeow poked his head out of the juniper bush, letting out a thunderous sneeze.

“So what did you have in mind?” Henriette asked, flicking a leaf off his ear with her tail.

Romeow clambered out of the bush. “Well, I thought about going to see Smoky and Sugar. They were shut up yesterday, and I didn’t get to see them.”

“Their Twolegs went somewhere,” meowed Henriette, recalling seeing their monster’s glowing eyes emerging from its den two nights ago. “Are they back now?”

“I dunno,” shrugged Romeow, jumping back up on the fence.

Henriette let out an exasperated noise halfway between a growl and a snarl. “I swear, if you’ve dragged me out of bed just to go gallivanting all over the neighborhood, I’ll kill you myself,” she remarked, joining him atop the fence.

“Aw, you wouldn’t do that!” Romeow mewed.

“I wouldn’t?” challenged Henriette, looking at him darkly.

He let out a purr. “You love me too much,” he told her with a voice as smooth and thick as honey.

Henriette clouted Romeow in the side of the head with her back paw, sending him once again tumbling into the juniper bush.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she told him sweetly.

---

“Thank goodness you came by!” exclaimed Sugar, pressing her white muzzle into Henriette’s fur. “I thought we were going to die of boredom!”

“Told you they’d be here,” Romeow said pompously, squeezing beneath the windowsill and joining Henriette and their two kittypet friends.

Sugar was a dainty white she-cat with black spots, and Smoky was a gray tom. It was easy to tell they were brother and sister; they had the same greenish-amber eyes. Their Twolegs were still gone, so Henriette and Romeow had had to squeeze through the window.

“Are you hungry?” asked Smoky, flicking his tail toward a bowl half-full of kibble.

Henriette shook her head. “No, thanks. We shouldn’t eat your food, since that’s all you have.”

Sugar tilted her head to one side. “No, we have a Twoleg that comes by every day to refill our bowls. It’s all right.”

“In that case...” meowed Romeow, not bothering to finish his sentence before plunging his face into the bowl.

Mousebrain. “So do you know where your Twolegs went?” she asked Smoky and Sugar.

“Dunno,” mewed Smoky. “Just up and left two days ago.”

“They’ll be back,” Sugar mewed in that optimistic way she had. Nothing could keep Sugar down for too long. There was, however, a hint of unease in Smoky’s viridescent eyes. Apparently he had not forgotten that when he and Sugar were kits, they had been abandoned by their mother and taken in by those Twolegs. Perhaps he thought that they were being abandoned again. Henriette couldn’t really blame him.

“Feel like going out for a little while?” she offered, wishing that Romeow would quit eating. It was rather rude, as that was all the two kittypets were going to have all day.

“Sure!” chirped Sugar.

“I don’t think Sugar is small enough to fit through the window,” teased Smoky. “She’s been eating a bit more than her fair share recently.”

“If I don’t fit, you certainly won’t,” meowed Sugar poisonously.

---

Fortunately, all four cats could fit through the window, and off they went to... wherever the wind took them! Henriette hadn’t gotten out like this with her three best friends for a long time. She had forgotten how wonderful the feeling was.

“So where should we go?” asked Sugar, her small, graceful frame perched atop a sundial in her housefolk’s garden.

“Why don’t we go into the forest?” suggested Henriette.

Three pairs of eyes widened like waxing moons.

“The forest?” gasped Romeow.

“No way! We can’t go in there!” Smoky’s eyes grew round. “Haven’t you heard about those wildcats? They eat live rabbits and sharpen their claws on old bones. They’d kill us if we went into their land!”

Henriette frowned. Leafpaw didn’t eat live rabbits. “Clan cats aren’t like that!” she meowed quickly, jumping to the defense of the dream cat.

She didn’t realize what she’d said until the blank stares of her friends met hers.

“How would you know?” asked Sugar curiously, tilting her head to one side.

You’ve never met a Clan cat before, idiot! Henriette cursed herself. “I-I heard Smudge talking about them once,” she stammered, thinking quickly. “He had a friend go off and live in the forest a while ago.”

“That fat black-and-white cat?” Romeow asked. “I know him. What were you doing over there?”

“I was bored,” shrugged Henriette, sounding nonchalant. “He’s gone into the forest before.”

Smoky’s whiskers twitched. “That lazy old furball? He can’t heave himself up on his fence, let along go anywhere.”

“It was a while ago. Before we were around.” Henriette plopped down from the fence and sauntered away, tail held high. “If you don’t want to come,” she tossed over her shoulder, “you don’t have to.”

She didn’t have to hear her friends’ pawsteps behind her to know that they would follow her. Very seldom did they not.

---

The soft, moist leaves felt good beneath Henriette’s paw pads. The scents that swirled around her were so strangely nostalgic, like she was smelling them through Leafpaw’s nose. I wonder if I’ll find her here? she thought.

“This place is huge...” mewed Romeow, his ears laying back against his head.

“It used to be bigger,” Sugar said as-a-matter-of-factly. “Then some housefolk got rid of some of it to make room for a new road to go through.”

“I remember that,” meowed Smoky. “We were all a lot younger though.”

Now that they mentioned it, Henriette remembered hearing about it too. But that was a while ago. Hearing it again made a flash of fear light up her pelt. What if Leafpaw and her friends were hurt when the housefolk destroyed the forest? she thought, feeling a pang of dread.

She scented the air, but there were no cat-scents.

“What are you smelling for?” asked Romeow, pressing in close to her as though cold.

“Nothing,” Henriette lied smoothly. She didn’t want to admit her fascination- or obsession- with the Clan cats. “Let’s keep going.”

“Don’t you think we should go back?” Smoky mewed, sounding a little edgy.

Henriette’s ears flicked in surprise; Smoky was never scared. “Why?”

Smoky looked uneasy, but he shook his head. “Never mind.” But his fear-scent prickled the roof of Henriette’s mouth.

And there was another scent, one that Henriette couldn’t quite pin down. Maybe I’m imagining things.

Sugar bounded atop a rotted stump, her white tail waving enthusiastically. She seemed the least fazed by the unfamiliar territory. “Well, we’re not going to get anywhere standing around,” she meowed as a shadow crept up behind her. “Come on, let’s get go-” Her words ended in a shriek as a huge paw came from nowhere and shattered the stump into pieces.

As Sugar tumbled forward head over paws, Henriette got a glimpse of a blunt, black-and-white muzzle attached to a stout, gray body.

“What is that?” gasped Smoky.

The answer came unbidden to Henriette’s tongue. “It’s a badger!” she yowled.

“Run!” wailed Romeow, taking a few steps back.

“No!” hissed Smoky. “We can’t leave without Sugar! She’s hurt!”

Henriette wanted to whip her head around to see her friend, see how badly she was hurt, but her gaze was fixated on the soulless black eyes of the badger as it clambered ungracefully over the stump. A hundred images flashed intelligibly behind Henriette’s eyelids. Blood flying about like rain splashing off a puddle, more badgers than leaves on a tree, a terrible wail of agony, and a terrible, heart-stopping grief that drove an icicle deep into Henriette’s heart.

I can’t move.

Henriette cowered as the badger galumphed toward her, raising a blunt paw to rip open her throat.

And then Romeow was there. With a screech as loud as thunder and his pelt blurring like a strike of lightning, he slashed open the badger’s face. The beast howled as its blood sprayed in an arc across the forest floor.

Romeow backed away as the badger stumbled about, snarling with pain and fury.

Thank StarClan Romeow’s claws hadn’t been clipped recently! Henriette thought, surprising herself by using a Clan word. “Why did you do that?” she murmured hoarsely, as aware as he was that the badger could have snapped his neck in two.

“I wasn’t about to let that thing get you,” Romeow growled.

Henriette shook herself out of her daze. I got us into this mess, now I’m gonna get us out! “Smoky, Romeow, try to keep the badger busy! Don’t attack it, or it’ll rip your throat out.”

“Joy,” murmured Romeow.

“I’ll see to Sugar,” meowed Henriette.

As the two tomcats flung themselves at the badger with harsh caterwauls, Henriette scrambled to her friend’s side. Sugar was lying limp on the ground, her white fur stained crimson by her own blood. The badger had left a gash on her shoulder; it wasn’t particularly deep, but it was so close to her neck that Henriette’s heart thumped.

“Get back over here!” yowled Henriette.

Immediately, Smoky and Romeow broke away from the badger and leaped to Henriette’s side.

“Is she all right?” Smoky demanded breathlessly.

“She will be,” Henriette mewed, mindful of the badger, who was lumbering towards them again, “but we have to get her away from here. You two lift her as carefully as you can and carry her as far away from here as possible. Try not to jostle her shoulder. I’ll take care of the badger.”

“What?” squeaked Romeow. “There’s no way you can take that badger all by yourself!”

Henriette glared at him. “I didn’t ask your opinion!” she said icily. “I told you to move, and if you don’t, I’ll wrap you up in your own pelt and toss you out, got that?”

Even Romeow didn’t have the guts enough to argue, so he and Smoky carefully lifted Sugar and started to shuffle away. “Be careful!” Smoky meowed over his shoulder.

Henriette turned to the badger after they’d gone. “Time to pay!” she hissed.

The badger lunged at her.

Leafpaw ducked her head, twisted sideways, rolled over onto her back, and leaped to her paws, all in the space of a heartbeat.

Henriette ducked her head, twisted sideways, rolled over onto her back, and leaped to her paws, the blunt claws of the badger whistling past her ear as she suddenly found herself facing the creature’s side. Without an instant of hesitation, Henriette launched herself at it, her claws snagging on the badger’s thick fur.

The badger snarled and rolled over. In a split second, Henriette released the badger and ducked away, just in time to avoid being flattened by the badger’s sheer bulk.

Fox dung! she cursed. I can’t beat it!

It was only a second after that thought had occurred that Henriette did something that would end up changing her life forever.

Facing the badger, she leaped high up in the air, soaring over the bewildered beast’s head. Landing on her back paws directly behind it, she spun around neatly, flashing out a paw to rake her claws across the badger’s foot. She then lunged forward and sunk her teeth into the badger’s back leg. She felt her teeth break the tough skin and sink into soft flesh. The taste of the badger’s blood was terrible, but she forced herself to hang on as the badger howled and shreed like a dying beast. It had been Henriette’s great luck to inflict her damage on a wound from long ago that had not quite healed.

The badger managed to escape Henriette, and she glared at it in the eyes, her muzzle dripping with blood.

“Get out!” she snarled, a threat in any language.

As though it had understood, the badger lumbered away, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

As if her lust for blood had faded away and taken the last drop of her strength with it, Henriette sank to the ground, her head swimming. What was that? She had performed that move as though she had been doing it all her life. Her paws had moved for her; she had not had to think. It was as though the danger and impending battle had transformed her into something different, the way a caterpillar became a butterfly.

She had become a warrior.

I attacked a badger, thought Henriette numbly. And I beat it. I beat it without getting a scratch.

Thinking of scratches brought her mind back to Sugar. How far had Romeow and Smoky gotten with her? Forcing her stone-heavy paws to move, Henriette stumbled after her friends’ scent trail.

---

When Henriette slipped into the hollow tree where her friends were taking refuge, Romeow whipped around with a ferocious hiss. If she didn’t know him to be as fluffy and soft as a marshmallow, she would have had to admit that he looked dangerous.

“It’s me,” she mewed, and Romeow lowered his hackles.

“Thank goodness you’re all right!” he exclaimed.

Smoky looked up from Sugar where she lay limp as a mouse. “How did you kill it?” he asked.

Henriette shook her head. “I didn’t kill it. I drove it away. It won’t be coming back here any time soon.”

“What do we do?” asked Smoky, his eyes round with fear. “She-She won’t stop bleeding.”

Henriette squeezed past Romeow and crouched down beside her friend. Sugar was unconscious, and she looked as though she were having troubles breathing.

“Romeow,” Henriette mewed, “I need you to get me some cobwebs.”

“Cobwebs? What for?”

“Go get them. Now!” hissed Henriette, and Romeow stumbled quickly away.

“What do I do?” asked Smoky.

“Stay there and make sure nothing gets in here.” Henriette started to clean Sugar’s bloodstained fur. I’m sorry. You’d be all right if I hadn’t dragged you out here.

A moment later, Romeow reappeared with a swath of cobwebs in his jaws. “Ish dish enuff?” he asked.

Henriette tuck the webs from him. “I hope you didn’t get any spiders with you?” she asked testily.

Romeow shook his head, but he didn’t look too certain.

Mousebrain. Henriette went to applying the cobwebs to Sugar’s shoulder.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Smoky asked somewhat hesitantly, as if trying not to crack Henriette’s already-thinning patience.

“No idea,” mewed Henriette. That, of course, was a lie. She had seen Leafpaw do it so many times that her paws moved themselves.

After that, Henriette said, “She needs some water. Smoky, find a wad of moss- clean, preferably- and find some water somewhere, a stream or a puddle or something, and soak the moss in it. Bring Sugar back as much as you can.”

“Okay,” Smoky meowed dutifully, ducking out of the tree.

After he had gone, Romeow padded up on Sugar’s other side. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

Henriette was about to snap at him when she remembered how willingly he had thrown himself in harm’s way earlier to save her. “I’m fine,” she answered. “We’ll get Sugar back on her paws and then we can go home.”

Sugar twitched suddenly, and her amber-green eyes slowly flickered open. She let out a ferocious sneeze, gasping as the movement jostled her injured shoulder. “Where am I?” she asked, her words slurred by sleep.

“We’re still in the forest,” answered Henriette. “You got hurt earlier, but you’ll be fine.”

Sugar’s hazy eyes glanced about the tree. “Where’s Smoky?” she asked her voice sharpening with fear.

“Here I am!” he mewed, ducking into the hollow with the biggest wad of dripping moss Henriette had ever seen in his jaws.

“Smoky, we didn’t need that much. We’re not trying to give her a bath,” meowed Romeow.

“It’ll be fine,” mewed Henriette, taking the moss from Smoky with a nod. She squeezed the wad in her jaws, allowing the cold water to drip into Sugar’s mouth.

“That’ll do for now,” Henriette said, tossing the scrap of moss aside. “You can have the vet check up on you when your Twolegs come back.”

“Thank you, Henriette,” mewed Sugar, pushing herself to her paws.

“Can you stand?” asked Smoky.

“I think so.” She wobbled slightly, but she could walk decently.

“All right,” meowed Henriette. “Let’s go home.”

---

It took a while for vision to come back to him, but when it did, he gazed at the world around him. He just didn’t get it.

Why am I still alive?

Crowfeather’s sigh melted into the newleaf breeze that swept by, tugging at his dark gray fur in an attempt to pull him to his paws. But Crowfeather remained stationary, as unmoving and unfeeling as the stone walls that surrounded him.

As much as he hated those terrible cliffs, he was there again, at the site of StormClan’s first great battle. StormClan might have won, but he had lost.

Leafpool... Crowfeather sighed again and stared down at the ocean that lapped below. The water was so far away, but he felt as though if he dipped his paws down, they would come back wet. And if he didn’t place his paws correctly, he would prick them on the rocks below. They pointed up at him like accusatory fingers. When Crowfeather strained his eyes, he could still see the crimson stains of Gulo’s blood flecking those terrible stalagmites. He knew, of course, that his eyes played tricks on him; over the three moons since Gulo’s death, the constant water that scoured the rocks had washed the wolverine’s blood away. But Crowfeather could still imagine it as though it had happened the day before.

And if he turned around, he still saw Leafpool’s blood in an arc against the stone walls, the walls that seemed to take away everything from anyone who got too close.

Crowfeather rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

“So how long do you plan on sulking out here?”

Crowfeather jumped as Rainstar appeared quite suddenly behind him. The beautiful gray she-cat’s eyes were narrowed to brilliant slits of blue.

“Rainstar, should you be out here?” Crowfeather asked worriedly. The Clan leader’s cough had been much worse than usual; as accomplished a medicine cat Jayfeather was, he didn’t have the skills Leafpool had in dealing with Rainstar’s illness.

“I’m not dead yet!” snapped Rainstar, whipping her tail so violently that Crowfeather’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not going to die until I stop breathing. You, however, are a dead cat in a living body.”

Crowfeather let out an irritable grunt and looked back out at the ocean. “So you’re going to chew me out now, is that it?” he grumbled.

“That’s what we do with troublesome kits,” growled Rainstar.

“If you want kits, go to the nursery. There’s nothing to see out here.”

Without warning, Rainstar shot forward and swiped an unsheathed paw at Crowfeather’s head. One of her claws nicked his ear, sending a hot thread of pain down his spine.

Crowfeather leaped to his paws with a hiss. “What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” he snarled, his fur bristling.

Rainstar sheathed her claws, undaunted by his rising hackles. “So you do feel pain,” she noted almost reflectively, amusement flashing in her blue eyes.

“Of course I feel pain!” snapped Crowfeather. “What do you think I’ve been feeling?”

“Self-pity, by the looks of it.” Rainstar sheathed her claws and sat down, wrapping her tail over her paws. “Nothing warriorlike by any stretch of the imagination.”

“So any emotion that isn’t warriorlike is bad?” Crowfeather curled his lip.

“What emotion are you thinking of?” Rainstar asked, fur unruffled by Crowfeather’s hostility.

“Love. Compassion. Pity. Those aren’t warriorlike, are they?” Crowfeather challenged. “They aren’t so wrong, are they?”

“To feel love, to feel compassion... Those are the feelings of a warrior, Crowfeather.” Rainstar’s eyes softened. “Love sharpens our claws, gives energy to our paws, puts the shine in our fur. If we felt no love, if we felt no compassion, how many of us would stand up and fight for our Clan? Not just for themselves?”

The question was rhetoric, so Crowfeather looked away.

“As for pity... Pity is the most useless sentiment there is. Pity is worse even than fear.”

“How is it worse than fear?” Crowfeather asked disbelievingly.

“How is it not worse than fear?” asked Rainstar.

“Fear is what drives cowards,” Crowfeather meowed. “If it wasn’t for fear, I bet none of Gulo’s little friends would have tagged along with him. Duke would have been nothing without fear; he’d have no cats to back him up.”

“But fear is one of the most useful emotions there are,” Rainstar mewed, catching a drifting feather on her claw.

“Come again?” spluttered Crowfeather.

“Without fear, what room would we have to improve? All warriors feel fear at some time or another, and the best warriors face their fears and become stronger by the outcome. With no fears to face, we would become as soft as a kittypet. Do you understand? Fear is a thing to be used. If you act with fear, not against it, then you will lose, a fact that Gulo and Duke are not around to give witness to.”

“How is pity any worse?” Crowfeather asked.

“To feel pity towards your enemies is to sheathe your claws. To feel pity toward your friends is to insult them. And to feel pity for yourself is to burn every ounce of honor and self-respect you have in your bones.” Rainstar’s gaze become intense, pinning Crowfeather down like a helpless mouse. “You’re smouldering, Crowfeather. Soon, there will be nothing left of you, and you’ll be as dead as Leafpool is now.”

Crowfeather flinched. “I’m not afraid of dying!” he spat. “If I die, at least I’ll be able to see her again!”

“You’d rather fight for a dead warrior than living ones?” snarled Rainstar. “When you became a warrior, you vowed to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life.”

“I pledged that to WindClan. Not StormClan.”

Rainstar’s mouth fell open, and then she snapped it shut. “You feel no loyalty to the Clan that Leafpool and Tawnyblaze and Smoke and Sunblaze died for? No loyalty to the Clan you helped to create?”

“So it’s my fault?”

“It’s your fault if you condemn StormClan to death because you’re too sorry to lift a paw!” hissed Rainstar.

“I doubt seriously it would hurt StormClan if I were dead!” Crowfeather growled.

“It certainly wouldn’t help!” yowled Rainstar.

They fell silent a moment after that, both of their hot blue gazes smouldering with unspoken thoughts. At last, Rainstar flattened her fur. “I understand your feelings, Crowfeather. You feel responsible for Leafpool’s death. But if any cat should feel sorry for herself, it should be me.”

Crowfeather pricked his ears in surprise.

“It was in the act of coming to my aid that Leafpool was slaughtered. Had I made her stay home, or remained at camp myself, it is very possible that she would still be alive today. But I don’t wallow in woe-is-me self-pity. I have a Clan to lead. I don’t have any time to feel sorry for myself.”

“That’s totally different,” murmured Crowfeather.

“You weren’t the only cat to lose a mate in that battle,” Rainstar pointed out. “Swiftstep lost Tawnyblaze. And yet he gets up every morning and goes on patrols and catches the prey that feeds our Clan.”

“He looks as dead as a mouse in a fox den,” commented Crowfeather.

“And you don’t?”

Crowfeather flattened his ears, but he couldn’t reply.

Rainstar’s eyes softened, and she rested her tail over Crowfeather’s shoulders. “I understand your loss,” she mewed quietly. “And I understand why you grieve. Leafpool was one of my closest friends, and I know that you were much closer to her than I. But Leafpool is gone. It is something we have all accepted. All of us but you.” Rainstar slipped away from him and looked out at the sea, where it ebbed and flowed as it had for countless seasons. “And now it’s your time. If Leafpool was here today, would she be proud of you? Or ashamed?”

Crowfeather felt something flicker inside him, like a tiny flame.

“You are fire, Crowfeather. You are nurtured by passion, friendship, duty, love. But when something terrible happens, rain starts to fall, and your fire is diminished.” Rainstar turned back to Crowfeather, and the flame that burned in those brilliant blue eyes filled Crowfeather with her conviction. “Rekindle that flame, so that we, StormClan, can become as strong as fire, as hot as the sun, blazing through our enemies like a drought in greenleaf. We can’t do it without you. You are the father of StormClan. And you are also the father of Squirrelpaw and Ashpaw, who have felt as though they have lost both parents, not just one. Will you let them suffer?”

“No,” meowed Crowfeather, his voice as hard and incorruptable as stone.

“Will you let StormClan die?”

“No.”

“And will you give in because you aren’t strong enough?”

“No!” yowled Crowfeather, his limbs coursing with the strength of Rainstar’s words.

“We’ll count on you, then,” Rainstar purred. Then, her face grew very serious. “I actually had something to discuss with you.”

Crowfeather was surprised that she would come to him. “Why not Hollyleaf?” he asked, referring to Rainstar’s deputy.

Rainstar shook her head. “You’re the only cat I can ask about this.” She paused a moment, as though searching for the right words. “I want to go to the lake.”

Crowfeather staggered as though the rocks beneath him had shifted. “The lake?” he spluttered. “Where the Clans live?”

“What other lake would I be speaking of?” Rainstar asked coolly. “I want to meet them, not just to exchange pleasantries, but to inform them of Leafpool’s death.”

Crowfeather flinched.

“Her Clan deserves to know of her passing,” insisted Rainstar.

“What if they already know?” challenged Crowfeather. “She could have visited them after she joined StarClan.”

“They deserve to hear it from us,” meowed Rainstar firmly. “Besides, I’m certain that you miss your family as well.”

Crowfeather lowered his gaze. “I doubt they miss me,” he muttered.

Rainstar didn’t answer. Instead, she mewed lightly, “Well, I’ve already made the decision, so you’re free to come whether you want to or not. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

Crowfeather knew that that wasn’t true. He was the only cat left in the Clan that knew how to find the lake. But he appreciated Rainstar’s choice of words.

“Like I’d stay behind,” he mewed, trying in vain to match her light tone. “So who shall come with us?”

“You and me, as well as Hollyleaf, Jayfeather, Lionblaze, Breezepelt, Ravenwing, Barleyface, Squirrelpaw, and Ashpaw.”

Crowfeather’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jayfeather? Are you sure?”

Rainstar bristled slightly. “He can make the journey,” she mewed firmly. She had misunderstood Crowfeather’s concern of leaving the Clan without a medicine cat.

“Well, that’s a lot of cats to leave with. Are you sure the Clan will be all right?”

“The wolverines are gone, and Duke is dead. Aside from the usual dangers, the Clan should be all right for the amount of time we’ll be gone,” Rainstar mewed confidently.

Crowfeather still wasn’t convinced, and he really didn’t want to go back to the lake, but he felt that it wasn’t really in his place to argue, so he mewed, “Very well. So when do we leave?”

“In about half a moon,” meowed Rainstar.

Crowfeather blinked. “Why that long?”

Rainstar purred. “You’re as dense as ever,” she mewed lightly.

---

Crowfeather was a changed cat when he got back to camp. He felt the warm breeze on his pelt for the first time in over a season, and he even felt confident enough to send Rainstar to her den for some rest. (Of course, he had Jayfeather backing him up in this private battle.)

Then, he found himself irrevocably bored. Hollyleaf hadn’t assigned him to any patrols; she tended to avoid him for the most part and spend all her time in the nursery with her brother’s mate, Moonclaw, who was less than a moon away from having her first litter of kits. Lionblaze went on as many patrols as any cat, maybe even more, but he always dropped by the nursery right before the sun went down.

If only I could be so devoted to my children, Crowfeather thought. He’d let them down. He had just seen Squirrelpaw and Ashpaw sharing tongues outside the apprentices’ den. In the three moons since they’d started their training, they hadn’t grown much. They still looked a bit like kits. But the sisters no longer had the life or vitality of kits. Their fur and their eyes were dull. They woke every morning and did everything they were told, which was downright odd in Squirrelpaw’s case. Crowfeather couldn’t remember the last time the fiery young she-cat had been smart with him, and he found himself missing it. Rainstar’s words came echoing back to him: They feel as though they’ve lost both their parents, not just one.

But their father was back from the dead, and he was determined to keep it that way.

“Squirrelpaw! Ashpaw!” he called, and the little she-cats looked up. They looked very surprised to see their father speaking to them; it twisted Crowfeather’s heart. “Do your mentors have anything planned for you?”

Ashpaw exchanged a glance with Squirrelpaw. “I don’t think so,” she mewed quietly.

“Would you like to go hunting with me?” offered Crowfeather.

Without saying a word, they got to their paws and shook dust out of their pelts. “Where?” murmured Squirrelpaw, her voice barely rising above the wind.

Crowfeather blinked. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

Squirrelpaw shrugged. “Wherever the prey is.” Usually, coming from her, this would have been a very curt response that would probably earn a cuff on the ears. But Squirrelpaw wasn’t really feeling good enough to be cheeky.

“Er, how about the beach?” stammered Crowfeather, waiting for them to point out that there wasn’t a lot of prey down by the waterside, but they just filed off without protesting.

What in StarClan have I done?

The three kin sat silently on the beach, their silhouettes black and silent against the sun-drenched orange sky as day fell below the horizon. Though they had every intention of hunting, the patrol hadn’t caught a single piece of prey; Crowfeather had sat down on the beachside, and the two apprentices had deadpanningly done the same. And there they sat in silence, watching the tomorrow line devour the sun.

“Are we going to hunt?” Squirrelpaw asked finally.

“If you want to hunt, you can,” Crowfeather said, his voice barely rising above the breeze, “but that’s not what I came out here for.”

“Oh. I see.” Squirrelpaw got to her paws, while Ashpaw looked at her sister in surprise. The light brown tabby apprentice, who looked so like her mother, took a few paces away before coming to a dead stop.

Crowfeather watched his daughter expressionlessly.

Squirrelpaw whipped around, her fur standing on end, her green eyes as hot as a verdant fire. “I suppose you just brought us out here to watch you snivel, is that it?!” she snarled, her voice as scalding as her eyes. “You don’t think we see enough of that around camp?! Just how long are you going to mope around like a sad little rat that’s lost his cheese, huh?!”

Crowfeather bowed his head and allowed her tirade to continue.

“Maybe you’d like to think about us for a change!” Squirrelpaw spat. “If you’re gonna be such a disgrace, why don’t you just throw yourself off that cliff and spare the rest of us the humiliation?!”

“Squirrelpaw!” gasped Ashpaw, but Squirrelpaw ignored her.

“I’m so sick of you dragging yourself around like you’re a one-legged badger! Just get over it and get on with it already!” Squirrelpaw stopped, presumably to catch her breath.

“Are you done?” asked Crowfeather a moment later when Squirrelpaw still hadn’t spoken.

If Squirrelpaw was surprised by how calmly Crowfeather was taking her outburst, she didn’t show it. “Are you angry?” she asked, icy cool.

“Yes. I am.”

Squirrelpaw tensed slightly.

“But only at myself.” Crowfeather looked up into the sisters’ surprised eyes. “I’ve been a failure. A failure to myself, a failure to the Clan, a failure to Leafpool... and I’ve been a failure to the two of you as well. And for that, I apologize.” He dipped his head so low that his whiskers grazed the sand.

Squirrelpaw was visibly shaken. “W-Well-” she blustered, not expecting this kind of response, but Ashpaw understood. She pressed herself against her father’s side, her blue eyes shimmering like the waves that crested the shore. “You don’t have to be forgiven,” she mewed, “because you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t join in, but she did mumble something that might have been a word of agreement.

Crowfeather felt himself become warmer as something glowed beneath his pelt, a feeling that he had been missing out on for an entire season. “I love you,” he murmured, nuzzling both his daughters.

They spent the rest of the day there at the beach, the apprentices looking out at the clouds (“That one looks like a badger,” mewed Squirrelpaw) and Crowfeather wondering whether or not to inform his daughters of their upcoming quest. They’ll be meeting their grandparents, he realized. Their kin. He wondered what the Clans would make of them. Would they look down on them for being half-Clan kits? No, they’re StormClan through and through, he corrected himself. He was originally going to keep the news to himself; apprentices were terrible gossips. But he was so excited about it that he couldn’t hold himself in. “Did I tell you what Rainstar has planned for you?” he asked.

Squirrelpaw got to her paws quickly, her eyes blazing with excitement. The words “warrior ceremony” were doubtlessly running through her mind, but she still asked, “What?”

“We’re going to the Clans,” meowed Crowfeather, a slight shiver of some emotion he didn’t understand running down his spine.

Ashpaw tilted her head to one side. “ThunderClan and WindClan? What for?” she asked, puzzled.

Crowfeather cleared his throat. “It’s, um... It’s to pass on the news. About Leafpool.”

Squirrelpaw sat down, momentarily subdued, but before long, the lively sparkle was back in her eyes. “So when are we leaving? How long are we staying? Who else is going?” she gushed.

“Great StarClan, Squirrelpaw,” mewed Crowfeather, starting to miss her old, silent self. How could I long for this? he thought glumly. Aloud he said, “Rainstar said we’d leave in about half a moon.”

“Why the wait?” Squirrelpaw meowed, sounding disappointed, as though she had thought they were leaving tomorrow.

Ashpaw poked Squirrelpaw. “Isn’t it obvious? Rainstar wants us to be there for Lionblaze’s kits,” she mewed softly. “Moonclaw will be kitting soon.”

Was that it? Crowfeather wondered, feeling slightly ashamed for not thinking of it in the first place. It was his grandchildren they were talking about!

“Yeah, not to mention Falconkit and Batkit and Starkit would have a fit if Rainstar ran off without making them apprentices first,” added Crowfeather, trying to sound somewhat dignified; he wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand Rainstar’s need for delay.

“Rainstar’s coming?” squeaked Ashpaw, deflating as though suddenly frightened.

“She’s a cat, too, you know,” teased Crowfeather.

“I know,” murmured Ashpaw. “But I get so nervous if I know she’s watching me when I'm hunting or something. I’m afraid I’ll mess up or something.”

“I always mess up when she watches me,” mewed Squirrelpaw helpfully.

“She's your mentor, mousebrain." Crowfeather clouted Squirrelpaw's ear lightly with his tail. “If you mess up every time she watched you, you'd be cleaning out the elders' den every day."

“She'd probably be in the elders' den," teased Ashpaw.

Squirrelpaw couldn't take this. With a yowl and a leap, she took her sister down, and the two of them scuffled playfully in the sand. Crowfeather felt his paws tingle as if they longed to join in, but he felt too tired to lift a single one of them. Does this mean I'm getting old? he thought dryly.

“Two she-kits and a tom!” called Jayfeather, his voice carrying easily over the silence that had gripped the camp.

At once, several purrs and mews of congratulations filled the air. Crowfeather tried to swoop into the nursery, and he bumped into Jayfeather as the medicine cat was exiting.

“How are they?” Crowfeather demanded when Jayfeather regained his balance.

“I’d love to tell you if I could breathe,” Jayfeather said shortly, trying to slip past his father. Crowfeather let him by, and his son mewed, “They’re all fine. You can visit them if you’d like. Just stay out of my way.”

Crowfeather ignored his son’s waspishness for once and ducked into the nursery.

Hollyleaf was already there, gazing proudly down at her nieces and nephew. Moonclaw was tonguing a little cream-colored kitten as it tried to squirm towards her belly. The other two – one black and the other a golden tabby – suckled noiselessly, their tiny paws kneading their mother’s long, black fur. Only the fogginess of Moonclaw’s eyes betrayed the strain that she had just gone through.

Lionblaze, however, was trembling so much that Crowfeather wondered if it had been he who had given birth to the kits.

“Keep it together,” Crowfeather mewed, shouldering Lionblaze.

“It was scary,” murmured Lionblaze, his eyes as wide and innocent as a kit’s. “There was blood everywhere…”

“Yes, well, that tends to happen,” growled Moonclaw irritably. “I’m sorry that it’s news to you.”

Crowfeather winced. “And I thought I’d had it bad,” he meowed, giving Lionblaze a sympathetic flick of the tail. Hollyleaf’s head jerked up in surprise, as though shocked that her father had made such a blasé comment about Leafpool.

“So is Rainstar going through with it?” Lionblaze asked, looking up from his kits with narrowed amber eyes. Hollyleaf stiffened, and Moonclaw’s eyes flickered up.

Crowfeather paused. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he mewed mildly.

Lionblaze stared at his father a few moments longer, and then he turned back to his kits, his eyes immediately softening. Moonclaw relaxed as soon as her mate did, but Hollyleaf picked her way past them and over to Crowfeather’s side.

“So you’ve decided to get your head of the sand, is that right?” she murmured coldly so that only he could hear.

“You may want to speak louder,” he mewed seriously. “I still have sand in my ears.” He brushed his tail lightly down her spine the way he had when she was still a kit.

Hollyleaf let out somewhat of a grunt and wriggled out from under her father’s tail, holly-colored eyes bright with annoyance.

“Not going to let me forget that I made a mistake, will you?” Crowfeather asked, barely able to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“No, I’m not!” she hissed loudly, making Lionblaze and Moonclaw’s heads turn. Hollyleaf brushed past Crowfeather brusquely, her black tail swishing out of the nursery.

Crowfeather could hardly keep from purring. His daughter’s actions would have bothered him had that not been the way she had always acted.

---

“May all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

Rainstar didn’t even really need to call the Clan together; they were all lingering about the clearing with various levels of patience. Every cat had noticed that something was going on that they hadn’t been let in on, and it was an almost sixth sense that told them that Rainstar was about to elucidate.

She didn’t let them down. “I’ve decided that it’s high time that I pay a visit to the Clans at the lake,” she meowed, getting straight to the point.

The reaction at her words was very diverse. Some of the cats looked indifferent, others mildly surprised, a few sympathetic, as though they had realized what sad tidings Rainstar would have to pass on to the Clan cats oblivious to Leafpool’s demise. But the rest of the Clan were relatively irritated.

“Surely we can’t spare cats to go trotting over to the lake, can we?” demanded Sparrowheart from where he sat beside Purdy in front of the elders’ den.

“They’ll have figured out that Leafpool is dead by now,” agreed Blazingrose, flicking her tail irritably. “It’s not like they’re stupid. Half of them wouldn’t even care. She wasn’t exactly loyal to them, was she?”

Crowfeather was glad that Stormtail whipped around and gave Blazingrose a good clout to the ear; he would have done so himself had he been close enough.

“It’s almost greenleaf,” mewed Rainstar evenly, unshaken by her Clan’s doubts. “We can spare a few warriors. And it’s best for the Clans to hear about Leafpool from her own Clan.”

“So what if Duke comes back?” Grayclaw meowed. “Or the wolverines?”

Crowfeather got to his paws. “Duke is dead!” he spat. “As are the wolverines. I killed Gulo at my own claws; it’s not like he’s going to climb up the cliff wall and start haunting us again.”

“Did you see Duke’s body?” challenged Grayclaw, a stubborn look appearing in the young warrior’s yellow eyes.

“No,” admitted Crowfeather, “but his blood was everywhere just a short way from the cliff. His fur was in chunks all over the place. I’m guessing that a wolverine couldn’t differentiate him from the rest of us and destroyed him.”

“I think we’ve established that Duke and Gulo are dead,” Stormtail meowed loudly, “but they weren’t acting alone. What about the cat who was controlling them?”

The Clan fell quiet, stupefied. Of course they don’t know, thought Crowfeather. Only a pawful of cats knew about Tigerstar’s interference in StormClan affairs. Standing, Crowfeather meowed, “Whether or not you like Rainstar’s decision is up to you!” he meowed loudly, speaking to every cat in the Clan. “But I’ll be going to the lake, and any of the cats that she chose to go with us is welcome to join me.”

Most of the Clan seemed surprised that Crowfeather was actually speaking, let alone to the entire Clan. For some reason, this irritated him, but he kept his annoyance in check as he continued, “When Leafpool and I left the Clans, we severed all ties with them. But that doesn’t mean that we should be hiding from them!”

“We’re not hiding!” protested Grayclaw. “There’s just no point in going there. They’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“I think you should go,” Sunfire said unexpectedly; both his littermates had objected. When all eyes turned on him, he lowered his gaze and mewed, “Well, I don’t share blood with any of them, so I can’t say that I want to go, but I still think Crowfeather and the others should.” He lifted his gaze and fixated it on Crowfeather’s. “No cat would stop me from seeing my kin, no matter how far away they are.”

Crowfeather’s heart warmed with gratitude toward his former apprentice.

Rainstar took the silence that followed as an opportunity to speak. “I’m sure that every cat agrees with Sunfire.” Her words were quietly controlled, as though she were taking it for granted that every cat’s opinions were the same as her warrior’s. “Of the cats that I chose to accompany me to the lake, you have every right to tell me that you wish to remain behind. And of the cats that I did not choose to go to the lake, if your desire to come with us is fervent enough, I will allow you to come with us. Other than that, I have nothing else to say. If you’re going to the lake, you need to save up your energy and get ready to do a lot of walking. That is all.” With that, Rainstar ducked into her den, and the Clan fell into a mild but widespread silence.

---

For the first time since the Clan had arrived at the sun-drown-place on that harsh winter, Crowfeather stepped beyond the StormClan border. With him were Rainstar, Hollyleaf, Jayfeather, Lionblaze, Breezepelt, Ravenwing, Barleyface, Squirrelpaw, and Ashpaw. The two apprentices were literally squirming with excitement; never before had they left StormClan territory. (At least, not in Crowfeather’s knowledge.)

“Do you remember how to get to the lake?” Rainstar asked from where she stood beside Crowfeather in the lead.

“Figures that she’s asking now,” grumbled Barleyface.

“Of course,” Crowfeather told her. But he wasn’t so sure. He had never gone to the lake from this direction before. “We’ll just need to keep near the sun-drown-place. Sooner or later we’ll hit a stream, the same stream that runs into the lake. We’ll just follow it, and the lake won’t be far.” He spoke as though he was explaining it to the others when in reality he was walking himself through it.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Squirrelpaw tore at the tough, springy grass beneath her claws, bouncing with excitement. “Let’s get going!”

“For once, I agree with the fuzzball,” purred Lionblaze. “Let’s not lose any daylight.”

“Do you think we can reach the lake before moonhigh?” Ravenwing asked.

“If we pick up the pace,” meowed Crowfeather. “But I’m thinking that we should take the journey a little slower.”

“Why?” asked Squirrelpaw, sounding disappointed.

“In three days, the moon will be full,” answered Crowfeather.

“You want to find them at the Gathering?” Ravenwing sounded skeptical. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

Rainstar frowned slightly. “If we find them at the Gathering, we won’t have to worry about crossing over borders and whatnot. From what I’ve heard, the Clans are a little more peaceable at the full moon.”

“True,” meowed Ravenwing.

“So we’ll be taking three days on the journey?” asked Hollyleaf.

Crowfeather nodded. “Let’s get going.

---

The tom fell upon the squirrel like a rabid dog, tearing at the tender meat and staining his muzzle with blood. He hadn’t had any decent meat in so long…

The cat that had caught the squirrel watched him with one wide, curious eye. “So what’s your name?” he asked.

The tom ignored him and continued to eat.

“Well, I’m Percy!” the cat introduced himself.

The tom still said nothing.

“Where did you come from?” Percy asked again. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I don’t come from here” was all the tom said. He swiped the blood from his muzzle, the strength from his meal surging down his body. He looked over his companion, a little dark gray tabby with a single amber eye. He smelled like a rogue, but he was as flabby as a kittypet.

“So where are you going now?” Percy asked.

Awful talkative. The tom curled his lip. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“Dark gray tom. His name is Crowfeather. Know where he is?”

Percy’s eye grew round. “I’ve never heard of a cat called that. Is he a rogue too?”

“No. He lives in something called a Clan.”

“I don’t know what you mean by Clan, but I did scent a group of cats going by yesterday. They smelled strange.” Percy wrinkled his nose.

The tom pricked his ears. “How many?” he meowed.

“A lot of them. Ten, maybe?”

That few? The tom frowned. “Where did you scent them?”

Percy flicked his tail towards the forest on the outskirts of town. “I was out hunting near the cliffs. They’d already gone by, but their scents were really fresh. I must’ve just missed them.”

The tom immediately got to his paws. Percy stood, too, and tried to get Duke to sit back down. “Are you sure you should be moving?” he gasped. “You were starving just-”

“Get out of my way!” the tom snarled. Percy flattened his ears against his head and back away, single eye wide. The tom left him there and ran off for the woods, a single name in his head.

Crowfeather!

---

“We’ve been walking forever!” groaned Squirrelpaw. “When are we going to stop?”

“What happened to all that gusto?” teased Hollyleaf.

“We’re almost there,” Ravenwing promised. “Right?” he added uncertainly to Crowfeather.

He nodded; they had found the stream only a few minutes prior. “We’ll be there by sundown at this rate, so we can rest at the end of the stream.”

Squirrelpaw started to walk even faster.

They had been going for another few moments when Ravenwing froze, his green eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” asked Rainstar. Every cat came to a stop.

Ravenwing’s ears were pricked, his nostrils flared, his mouth cracked as though drinking in some familiar scent. “Do you smell that?” he meowed. His voice was filled not with fear, but with something else, something like astonishment…

“Who do you smell?” Ashpaw asked, pressing against Squirrelpaw’s side, her blue eyes wide with anxiety.

“It can’t be.” Ravenwing shook his head before glancing over at Barleyface, who looked just as puzzled as everyone else. “Can it?”

“What are you talking about?” rumbled Barleyface.

Ravenwing looked out at the nearby forest, calling out the name that shocked Crowfeather to the tips of his toes.

“Graystripe?”

Graystripe?

It’s impossible. Crowfeather’s legs felt weak as the lithe gray tomcat emerged from the dense foliage, eyes narrowed to flaxen slits and ears cocked back. There’s no way. Graystripe, here? There was another cat in the undergrowth, but Crowfeather didn’t recognize the scent.

“Who are you?” Graystripe meowed guardedly, his eyes flickering towards each of the StormClan cats. “And how do you know my name?”

Ravenwing broke ranks and padded quickly forward, causing Graystripe to recoil in alarm, his ears flat against his head. “Graystripe, it’s me, don’t you remember?” Ravenwing’s wide green eyes stared into Graystripe’s narrowed yellow ones.

Graystripe’s nostrils flared as he breathed in deeply. “I don’t know that scent…” he murmured, sounding somewhat confused. Then his eyes grew wide. “Ravenpaw?”

“His name’s Ravenwing,” Squirrelpaw put in, but Rainstar silenced her with a single sharp glance.

“Oh, thank StarClan, you’re alive!” Ravenwing buried his nose in his old friend’s shoulder, while Graystripe stood there as if in a daze.

“What are you doing so far out here?” Graystripe asked, his eyes round. He glanced up at the others, and his gaze grew even wider when he saw Barleyface standing beside Crowfeather. “Barley too? What happened to the barn? And who are all these other cats?”

Ravenwing stepped back. “The barn burned down a few moons ago. Barleyface and I went with Leafpool and the others-”

“Leafpool?” The fur on Graystripe’s spine stood on end. “Firestar’s Leafpool?”

Crowfeather quickly looked away. Lionblaze pressed himself against his father’s side but said nothing.

“Yes,” Ravenwing said uneasily. “She made her own Clan, and I-”

“Hold on.” Graystripe narrowed his eyes. “Leafpool left ThunderClan?”

“She left because of me. After we got to the lake.”

All eyes went on Crowfeather. Graystripe tilted his head to the side, staring at him through slitted eyes. It was then that Crowfeather noticed the state that the ThunderClan cat was in. His fur, once long and thick, was now ragged and matted with dirt. While all the Clan cats were lean given the harsh winter that they had all just gotten through, but their ribs didn’t show through their pelts. Crowfeather could count each one of Graystripe’s. His eyes were dull and flickering, as though he might topple over at any given second. While he was trying to stand up straight, his legs were swaying like a sapling in a strong breeze.

“You look familiar,” the former ThunderClan deputy mewed. “Aren’t you a WindClan cat?”

“I was a WindClan cat. My name is Crowfeather. I went on the quest to find Midnight with Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight and the others.”

Crowfeather noticed the way that Graystripe flinched slightly when he had said “and the others.” He remembered that both of Graystripe’s children had also been on that quest and flinched also.

“So Leafpool ran away with you, am I right?” Graystripe’s tone was unreadable.

“You’re correct.” Crowfeather’s throat felt dry.

They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Rainstar stepped forward. “Excuse me, Graystripe, but who is that cat behind you in the undergrowth?”

Graystripe glanced at her, then at the cat behind him. “Millie, it’s okay. You can come out.”

The other cat padded out slowly, hesitantly, revealing to the StormClan cats a small, disheveled tabby she-cat who came up to about Graystripe’s shoulder. She was as haggard-looking as her companion, and while she looked softer, rounder around the edges compared to Graystripe and the other Clanborn cats, there was a tough, suspicious look in her eyes that made Crowfeather respect her immediately. She smelled like a kittypet, but she looked as wild as any of the rest of them.

“Do you know them, Graystripe?” she asked, her voice carrying a hard edge that surprised Crowfeather.

“Some of them. I trust them,” he reassured her, rasping his tongue over her ear. “It’s okay, Millie.”

Rainstar dipped her head to both of them. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Rainstar, leader of StormClan. I’m sure there’s much that we have to share, so why don’t we find somewhere more comfortable to talk?

---

“I see. So the Clans made it after all.” Graystripe looked up at the sky for several silent moments, the stars reflected in his eyes. “I was worried,” he admitted without looking down. “When I saw that the forest was gone, and then when the barn was destroyed, I was afraid. Afraid that the Clans had perished. But I guess I was silly for getting so worked up,” he said lightly, taking another bite of rabbit. “I keep forgetting that nothing can keep Firestar down. He’ll achieve what he wants to achieve no matter what he’s up against.”

“You’re not part of Graystripe’s Clans?” Millie asked quietly. She was opening up slowly, but that guarded look still hadn’t left her eyes.

“Leafpool and Crowfeather were, but the rest of us were rogues and strays,” meowed Rainstar. She pushed another squirrel towards Millie. “We formed our own Clan.”

“I wasn’t a stray,” sniffed Squirrelpaw.

Graystripe glanced at her, his whiskers twitching with amusement. “Who is this little one?”

“That’s Squirrelpaw, Leafpool and Crowfeather’s daughter,” Ravenwing answered.

Squirrelpaw’s pelt poofed up. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” she hissed.

Graystripe ignored her. “Firestar’s grandchild…” he mused.

“He has great-grandchildren now,” Lionblaze put in, trying in vain not to look too proud.

Graystripe grunted in surprise. “I must be getting older than I give myself credit for,” he sighed.

“So what’s your story?” Jayfeather asked from where he was applying mouse bile to the ticks littering Graystripe’s back. “You know just about all there is to know about us.”

Crowfeather was about to reprimand his son for his rudeness but thought better of it when Graystripe began to speak.

“There’s not much to say. After the Twolegs captured me, I was kept in a Twoleg nest. Then I met Millie, and we escaped together. We’ve been searching for the Clans ever since.”

Rainstar and Crowfeather exchanged a glance.

“If you’re wanting to find ThunderClan again,” Crowfeather said hesitantly, “then you should come with us. We’re heading there ourselves.”

Graystripe frowned. “Is that so?” He glanced at Millie, who gazed levelly back at him. Then he looked back at Rainstar and dipped his head. “That’s a generous offer. We’d be glad to join you.”

Rainstar flicked her tail. “I’m glad. You two are in quite a state and in need of a rest. I’ll post some guards so that you can get some sleep.”

“Thank you, Rainstar.” Graystripe bowed his head. “We’re very grateful to you.”

Rainstar’s eyes softened. “Don’t thank me. If there’s someone you want to thank, it would be Leafpool.” And though she said it to Graystripe, she was looking at Crowfeather.