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Chapter Text

The newly named leader of WindClan stared at his father as he fought to catch his breath. He had never imagined that the ceremony to receive his nine lives from StarClan could be so charged. Tallstar had felt love, courage, patience, and forgiveness in its purest, most concentrated forms. Mixed in with all of this was gratitude that he had at last found out the truth of the circumstances of Sandgorse’s death.

Tallstar felt as though he could truly begin anew. He had gained so much in his travels with Jake. He could bring those things forward with him in his new life as the leader of WindClan, and leave behind the bitterness of his youth. All that was left was love. Love for the way of the warrior, love for his Clanmates, and love for his kit. Excitement tingled in his paws at the thought of being welcomed back to his Clan as leader.  

“Thank you.” Tallstar looked across all of the assembled StarClan cats and dipped his head. “I promise to lead WindClan to the best of my ability, carrying with me all I have learned from every cat I have ever known and loved.” Melancholy tugged at his stomach as he thought of Jake. Would the kittypet ever risk the visit, or would Tallstar never see his dearest friend again?

His father stepped forward and gave Tallstar a tender lick on his cheek. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, Tallstar.”

Palebird broke away from the other starry WindClan cats that had given Tallstar his nine lives, and came to stand beside Sandgorse. The pale ginger tom gave her a respectful nod and took a few steps back to allow the queen to have a moment alone with her son. It was clear to Tallstar that they no longer thought of each other as mates in StarClan, but they looked as though they had remained friends. It was better this way: Palebird’s eyes were shining and she held her head high. She licked the top of Tallstar’s head. “I know that I didn’t fully show you the love of a mother while I was alive. Forgive me.”

Tallstar’s throat felt tight. “Of course.”

“I am so proud of you, Tallstar,” she whispered. “Lead strongly. WindClan will need you to protect them from the storms that lie ahead. And they will come. As much as I want to shield you from them, StarClan does not have the power to prevent them.”

“I will,” Tallstar vowed.

Palebird’s gaze filled with love and pride. “There will be a kit, kin of your dearest friend, who will need your help more than he knows.” Tallstar’s ears pricked at her words. “Watch over him. Guide his paws, for he is important to all of the Clans.”

“Blackpaw?” Tallstar gasped. Could the young apprentice really be tied to the fate of all the Clans? Protectiveness burned within Tallstar’s stomach. He didn’t need to be told to watch over and guide Blackpaw; from the moment Tallstar had laid eyes on the tiny black kitten Jake had brought over to WindClan territory, he had treated Blackpaw like his own child. Tallstar even indulged himself in thinking that he and Blackpaw looked a bit alike—they both had black pelts splashed with white. Suddenly he could hardly stand being here with StarClan at all, so eager he was to get back to the WindClan camp and reunite with the young apprentice.

Palebird’s eyes clouded before shaking her head. “I cannot say more. Just remember: there is no need to be afraid of every flame. Fire brings life, warmth, and new growth. As well as death.”

Tallstar blinked at his mother. The sight of Palebird and Sandgorse began to blur into twin visions of streaks of glimmering light. Behind them, the starry warriors slowly faded like flames dying out. Tallstar closed his eyes as though to clear them and opened them to see the Moonstone in front of him, no longer gleaming with its otherworldly light. Above him, the moon had shifted out of view. He stared at the dark night sky sparkling with stars for a moment and stood.

Beside him, Barkface stretched awake and blinked at him with gleaming amber eyes. His whiskers twitched. “Well? Don’t you want to go back home and sit vigil for Heatherstar?”

“Oh!” Tallstar said. “Oh, right. It seems like a strange thing to do now. I just saw her—”

Barkface raised his tail to quiet him. It was clear that he was curious about what had happened in the ceremony, but Barkface had also told him that whatever transpired during the ritual was for Tallstar’s eyes and ears alone.

He didn’t know yet what to make of Palebird’s message about fire. Again, he thought of Blackpaw and his fierce passion to prove himself to the Clan. Many WindClan cats welcomed him, but others still were wary about a kittypet kitten joining their ranks to train as a warrior. Already Tallstar could see the change in some of his Clanmates; Blackpaw’s presence was bringing with it fresh perspective to WindClan. But Tallstar could see a similar potential in any of the other apprentices training with him.

He could not help but wonder if his mother had also been giving him a warning: not all flames should be feared, but fire would always bring death with it. If Blackpaw was the fire that Palebird spoke of, would he bring death to the Clans?

Chapter Text

“I think we should teach the kittypet a lesson.”

Ears flattening against his head, Tiny took a step back from the three battle-hardened forest cats, the snow crunching beneath him. The dark brown tabby tom who had spoken seemed younger than the other two, a large gray-and-white tabby tom and a blue-gray molly. The dark brown tabby was clearly itching for a chance to prove himself. He flexed his thorn-sharp claws and Tiny shrunk down, hoping to avoid a fight. There was no way that he would win against three fierce wild cats.

“P-please,” Tiny dared to speak. “I only got lost.”

“You shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” the brown tabby sneered, bunching up the muscles of his hindquarters.

“Hold on, Tigerpaw,” the blue-gray molly attempted to break in as she looked on with horrified blue eyes. “There’s no need for this—”

But she was too late. Tiny felt as though time had slowed down as he watched, frozen, as Tigerpaw pounced at him, claws extended. The dark brown tabby’s forepaws reached Tiny’s shoulders, and the small black kitten was bowled over onto his back. The snow cushioned his fall, but the cold and wet seeped into his fur.

Tigerpaw’s talons caught against the thin skin of Tiny’s ear. Blood trickled down his ear and Tiny shivered at the sensation. A growl rumbled deep in Tigerpaw’s throat as he pinned Tiny down with one forepaw. Tiny wailed, thrashing beneath the much larger young cat, kicking out his hind legs helplessly. His back claws skimmed through the tabby’s thick fur, barely scraping skin.

With his free forepaw, Tigerpaw raked his claws across Tiny’s muzzle. The black kit let out another cry, the metallic taste of his own blood spilling into his mouth. Tiny again tried to twist out of Tigerpaw’s grip, but the forest cat took Tiny’s collar into his teeth and pulled. Choking for breath, Tiny closed his eyes and strained, hoping that the collar would snap and he could make his escape. He wasn’t that lucky: the only thing to snap off was the bell of his collar.

Tigerpaw’s amber eyes gleamed. He flashed his sharp teeth and got ready to deliver a killing bite to Tiny’s throat. Fear surged through Tiny’s exhausted body, but he was powerless to stop what would doubtlessly happen next. Was this really how his life would end? Punished for running away from home? He’d left home to get away from his siblings’ relentless bullying and now his life was over. Killed by a forest cat for his curiosity. All Tiny had wanted was to find a place where he belonged.

“Say goodbye, kittypet,” Tigerpaw snarled.

“Enough!” Tiny heard faintly over the blood rushing in his ears. The weight on top of him lifted—or more accurately, was pushed aside by a different force, leaving Tiny to get slowly to his paws and catch his breath. The blue-gray molly seemed to have watched enough of this torment and had taken it upon herself to end it. She stood over Tiny protectively, her plume of a tail lashing, and snarled at the young brown tabby. “That’s enough, Tigerpaw! A ThunderClan warrior does not need to kill to win his battles.”

Tigerpaw stared at the blue-gray warrior with defiant amber eyes. “I was just defending our territory, Bluefur.”

“And you’ve done that. This kittypet has learned his lesson,” Bluefur told him.

Tigerpaw looked past Bluefur to Tiny and sneered, “Yeah. You’ll never forget me!”

“Come on, Tigerpaw,” the gray-and-white tabby tom growled. “We’re finished here. And Bluefur—” he said, fixing a hard amber stare at the blue-gray warrior. “Don’t ever tell my apprentice what to do again.” He turned around and began to walk deeper into the forest with Tigerpaw.

Bluefur opened her mouth as though to argue, but she closed it. She turned to Tiny, her stern blue eyes softening. “You had better head on home to your mother, young kit.”

Tiny nodded. He turned to leave, but paused and looked over his shoulder. “Thank you for helping me.”

Bluefur dipped her head in acknowledgement. He began to scurry away despite the pain in his shoulder. When Tiny looked back, Bluefur had disappeared into the leafless trees. He shook his head, feeling droplets of his blood scatter onto the snowy forest floor. Tiny reached the edge of the woods where a line of Twoleg fences stretched out. He knew that he would have to go home, but he couldn’t face his mother like this.

Tiny raised his white forepaw, licking it and dragging it over his hurt ear. It stung like fire, and he could feel that Tigerpaw had taken a piece of his ear. When Tiny lowered his paw, it came away smeared with dark red, as though his blood had started to clot. Tiny licked his paw clean. There was nothing he could do about his ear, but he hoped that his other wounds were concealed by his black fur.

He stood and began to follow the line of Twoleg fences down where he lived with his mama and his siblings. Tiny was almost home before he remembered that if he returned, the housefolk would drown him in the river. A ball of dread grew in his stomach. He hadn’t even said goodbye to his mama. Would she wonder about him? Did she even care now that Socks and Ruby would go to new homes? Maybe she would just assume he had found new housefolk on his own. But that would not be further from the truth.

He turned away from his mama and his old life as a kittypet. He would go in search of town. It was the only other place left for him. Tiny knew that cats lived there, and if he couldn’t live in the forest with the wild cats, he would have to settle there. He would begin a new life. He would learn to take care of himself.

His muzzle still stung with the scratches that Tigerpaw had given him, and his shoulder ached with every step he took. Tiny looked around the seemingly endless rows of houses. How would he ever find his way out of here? He passed another house, and he heard a vaguely familiar mew.

“Tiny?”

His ears pricked and he turned to see a ginger tom jump down from a fence. Tiny blinked. He had only met his father once, but he remembered his scent well enough. Jake rushed over him and pressed his nose against Tiny’s shoulder. Tiny twitched away and Jake looked at him with concern blossoming in his pale green eyes as he inspected his kit closely.

“Your ear!” Jake gasped. His tongue rasped against Tiny’s injured ear. He moved from cleaning Tiny’s ear to licking at his kit’s scratched muzzle, soothing the stinging flesh. As Jake fussed over his kit, he let out a barrage of questions. “Tiny, what happened? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Quince and your littermates?"

“I ran away,” he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Tiny squirmed out of Jake’s reach and met his gaze. “Socks and Ruby hate me! And Mama does, too!”

Jake frowned and shook his head. “That can’t be true. Come with me, I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t want to go back!” Tiny said, stiffening. If Jake was going to take him back to his mama, he would have to drag Tiny by the scruff of his neck. “The housefolk will drown me in the river. That’s what they do with unwanted kittens.”

“That’s not true! Who told you such a thing?” Jake’s eyes widened with shock.

“Ruby,” Tiny sniffed. “I tried to act all cute but none of the little housefolk liked me. So I went to the forest. But one of the wild cats attacked me and chased me away.” Ruby had been right. He wasn’t wanted anywhere, not even among the forest cats. Tiny would have to carve out a place where he belonged.

As Tiny relayed his story, Jake’s face relaxed from worry to understanding. His father nodded and asked gently, “So what were you going to do now?”

“I was trying to find town,” Tiny said. “That’s the only place left for me.”

“It isn’t.” Jake frowned. “You could find other housefolk. You could live with me and mine.”

Tiny shook his head so hard that he became dizzy. He didn’t want to go on some Twoleg’s doorstep and meow pitifully for a few days until he was taken in. Perhaps that was the easiest path to take, but what guarantee did he have that his housefolk wouldn’t tire of him? His own littermates had barely tolerated him! Being pitied by Twolegs would only take Tiny so far, and he was so tired of getting conciliations for the simple reason that others felt bad for his size or weakness. That wasn’t love, and it certainly wasn’t respect.

“Okay, okay.” Jake leaned forward and nuzzled at Tiny’s cheek. “You don’t have to do that. But town is no place for you, Tiny. Do you think I want to imagine my kit starving and scrounging about Twolegplace for the smallest scraps of food?”

“Where else is there for me to go?” Tiny cried.

Jake spoke hesitantly. “Well, you ran away into the forest first. Didn’t you want to find out how the Clans lived? You could join them.”

The twitch of Tiny’s whiskers betrayed how enticing he found the offer, but still he took a step back. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “The Clan cats would never let me live there!”

“I know much about the four warrior Clans of the forest,” Jake said, looking past Tiny into the trees. “I have a dear friend who lives on the moors. I could take you to him. He wouldn’t hurt you. He would teach you—life in WindClan is rough. But he would say that it is worth it.”

“Worth it?” Tiny echoed. What was worth living out on the moors with a bunch of other coldhearted, ferocious cats? His brief encounter with the ThunderClan cats had left him feeling as though they cared only for themselves. Well. Mostly. There had been Bluefur. She had stopped the skirmish and saved his life.

“They support and care for their Clanmates,” Jake explained. “The strong hunt for the weak. It is the code that they live by. If you really don’t wish to go back home to your mother or find other housefolk, I’ll take you to Talltail.” His voice grew soft around the name. Tiny had never heard a word uttered with such deep affection.

“Mama never said anything about the strong cats protecting the weak cats when I asked her about them,” Tiny said, skeptical. “She just said they were cold and mean and that only the strong survived.”

“Your mama doesn’t understand the Clan cats,” said Jake with a shake of his head. “Not many house cats do.”

“But you do?” Tiny asked. “Mama says you know a lot about them. That you explored their territories.”

“I know enough,” Jake replied. “I don’t wish to join them. But I admire them. I enjoy meeting all kinds of cats. And many of the Clan cats are very noble. What do you think?”

Tiny hesitated. Apart from Bluefur, the cats he’d met earlier hadn’t seemed noble, but he at least trusted his father to tell the truth about his friends in the forest. “Is—is Talltail very noble?”

“The noblest,” Jake promised. “He’s my dearest friend. He’ll make sure that WindClan accepts you.”

Slowly, Tiny nodded. If his father was such good friends with this Talltail, then surely the Clans weren’t all made up of bloodthirsty cats looking for the barest excuse for a battle. “I would like to meet him. Maybe… maybe I could be a part of WindClan.”

Jake hopped to his paws, his tail lifted high. “I’ll take you there, then. Do you really want to go now? You could come home with me and have my Twoleg take you to the vet.”

“I’m fine,” Tiny said, standing. His shoulder ached and his cuts still stung, but he wasn’t bleeding anymore. Going to the vet would delay everything for at least a few days. “Is it far?”

“It’s a bit of a trek. You should eat before we go. The Clans don’t take kindly to other cats eating prey off of their territory, especially in winter.”

“I’m not hungry,” Tiny lied. He hadn’t eaten since this morning before he ran away from home. So much had happened that it felt like ages ago now, and hunger was beginning to gnaw at his belly. But he didn’t want to stay here in Twolegplace any longer than he needed to.

“You will be hungry as soon as we head out,” Jake purred. “Come inside. There’s still food in my bowl.”

He had no choice but to follow Jake through a small hole at the bottom of the fence and into the garden. Together they walked up to the door of the house. Jake nodded at him, and Tiny pushed through the cat flap. Instantly warm air enveloped him and Tiny felt a prickle of doubt. Could he really go join the wild Clan cats in the forest? They certainly wouldn’t have heated air circling about their dens during winter. The layout of this house was so similar to the one he’d lived in with his mama and littermates. Tiny could get used to it. Perhaps he wouldn’t even need to linger about outside for a few days, and Jake’s Twoleg would welcome him in without hassle.

Then he thought of his littermates. Socks and Ruby were probably settling in with their new housefolk by now. Tiny couldn’t help curling his lip at the thought. They’d always made sure to remind him that he was nothing like them. And that was fine now. He didn’t even want his life to look like theirs anymore. Tiny would prove that he was nothing like Socks and Ruby—he would be stronger and faster and smarter than them. Let his littermates curl up in a warm bed and eat tuna fish!  

He was going to be a warrior.

Jake came inside through the cat flap and nudged Tiny gently from behind.

Tiny found the bowl of food and sniffed at it warily. It was different from the food that his former housefolk had given him, but he did need the energy. His fight with Tigerpaw and his lost wandering through Twolegplace had exhausted him. He took a single bite and swallowed, then, driven by his hunger, started scarfing down food as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. It was only until the bowl was completely empty that Tiny looked up at his father, licking his lips sheepishly.

“I’m ready to go now,” Tiny said.

“Let’s go then,” Jake agreed. He led the way back out of the house and through the fence.

As Tiny and Jake walked along the fences that separated Twolegplace from the woods, it fully dawned on him that it was unlikely that he would ever be back. He would never again live in a house with Twolegs, never chase around those feather toys, and never curl up next to a heating vent. Tiny would find where he was meant to be.

Chapter Text

Tiny felt his father’s gentle teeth lift him from the scruff of his neck. He was getting a bit too old to be carried by the scruff of his neck, but nevertheless he felt grateful for the chance to rest his paws. They’d been walking for so long that his paws were throbbing and he was beginning to wish that he’d taken Jake’s offer to go to the vet before making the journey. Tiny hurt much worse than he’d first thought. But it was too late to turn back now.  

He and Jake had reached the moors and the cold wind was blasting through their fur. Tiny shivered. He had never been out for so long in such horrible weather as this. Jake turned his head and set Tiny back down again. “We’re on the border of WindClan territory.”

“How do you know he’ll come?” Tiny asked.

“I just know,” Jake said, keeping his eyes out on the horizon. His ears were pricked and he stretched up onto his hind legs in an attempt to be able to see if a cat was bounding towards them through the dry heather fronds.

They waited there in the weak winter sun, exposed, without the cover of trees or undergrowth. Tiny’s fur pricked. He felt so uncovered here. Was he still small enough for a hawk to swoop him away? Tiny shuffled closer to his father, who now seemed to tire of standing up on his hind legs. Jake let out a disappointed puff of breath as he sat back.

“How long will we have to wait?” Tiny asked.

Jake opened his mouth to taste the scent of the heather. “There have been cats here, but the scent is old. No WindClan cats have been here all day. I assume a patrol will be by to refresh the scent markings soon.”

“A patrol?” The concept of such a thing was foreign to Tiny, and he listened intently through Jake’s explanation of how the Clan cats enforced the boundaries of their hunting grounds. The ThunderClan cats that attacked Tiny must have been on border patrol, then. Tiny scowled. Protecting the borders was no excuse to attack a young kit like him!

The sun had begun its descent when Jake rose to all four paws, his pale green eyes gleaming. Tiny jumped, wanting to get a look at what had caught Jake’s attention, but all he could see over the heather was a long black tail sticking straight up into the air. It was approaching at a break-neck speed, and finally the owner of the tail appeared through the fronds, blinking bright amber eyes at the two trespassers. He was a slim long-limbed tom who towered over Tiny. His black-and-white pelt was sleek and short.

“Talltail!” Jake mewed.

“Jake!” the tom purred, rushing over to his friend and joyfully touching noses with the ginger kittypet. Their excited breaths made puffs of air in the cold. “What brings you here?”

Tiny could feel Jake’s purring against his flank as his father nudged him forward with his muzzle. “Talltail, this is my kit. Tiny.”

For the first time, Tiny flinched at the use of his name. He didn’t want to be known as the small, defenseless kit in front of this warrior. But what could he do? Tiny was the name his whole family knew him by.

“Well, hello!” Talltail took no note of Tiny’s discomfort. The WindClan warrior’s amber eyes blazed with interest as he bent down to give the top of Tiny’s head a gentle sniff. He glanced up at Jake, adoration clear in his bright eyes and twitching whiskers. “He’s beautiful! But you couldn’t have brought him all the way here just to meet me. That notch on his ear looks fresh.”

“It is.” Jake shook his head sadly. “He ran into a ThunderClan patrol and well—this is what came of it. I found him and decided to show him that the Clan cats are not the ruthless monsters that kittypets often make them out to be.”

“Before taking him to your Twoleg so that he could take Tiny to the vet?” Talltail cut Jake off, sounding almost outraged.

“Well, see, that’s what I was getting to,” said Jake, sitting down and curling his tail around his forepaws. “I brought him here because I hoped you might convince WindClan to train him as a warrior. He does not wish to be a kittypet, and I don’t want him to be a stray, running around the Twolegplace alone.” Jake glanced down at Tiny.  “He deserves to be loved, and I know he would be loved by you.”

Warmth flooded Talltail’s amber gaze. He nodded simply and turned to Tiny. “Do you know much about the Clans?”

“Only a little,” Tiny said.

“I told him about the warrior code,” Jake offered.

“Are you sure this what you want, little one?” Talltail asked Tiny gently. “WindClan cannot guarantee warmth, food, or safety. But you will learn to hunt and fight, and you will never be alone.”

“I just want to find a home,” Tiny mewed.

Talltail nodded. “And do you think your home could be with me?”

Tiny looked at his paws. So far, Talltail had been kind. He’d noticed that Tiny was injured and displayed concern over him. He wasn’t ignoring Tiny and was speaking plainly about what he could expect out of Clan life. Jake had said that Talltail was his dearest friend, and Tiny wanted to trust him. But he couldn’t forget the brutality with which the other Clan cats had treated him. He shrugged. “I don’t know. The ThunderClan cats were cruel to me.”

Talltail nodded, the white tip of his tail brushing against Tiny’s flank comfortingly. “Cats can be cruel to those outside their Clan. I won’t lie to you, little one. WindClan cats may be cruel to you as well. The Clans don’t take well to kittypets—even those trying to join their ranks.” The look in his eyes hardened. Tiny couldn’t tell what emotion was behind them. “But I promise to protect you from it as much as possible. I was an outsider too, once.”

Tiny pricked his ears and he looked up at the warrior, eyes widening. “You were a kittypet— or a stray?”

Talltail shook his head. “I was born in WindClan, but I lived outside the Clans for a time.”

“And you went back?”

“There is no other life for me,” Talltail said. He gave Jake a look that Tiny could not quite decipher—a mixture of longing and stony determination. Jake met Talltail’s gaze with a yearning of his own. The air felt suddenly charged, as though lightning was about to strike. Then Jake ducked his head, and the moment ended.

Talltail sighed and shook his head, putting his focus back on Tiny. “I was lucky that WindClan accepted me back. They respect me more than they did before I left. I’m the Clan deputy now.”

Jake gasped. “Truly? Talltail, that’s wonderful news!”

“Thank you,” said Talltail with a bashful dip of his head. He blinked at Tiny. “If you decide to come with me, you will be received as my kit. The child of the future leader of WindClan.”

“Oh.” This seemed too large for Tiny to touch. He wasn’t sure that he wanted all that, but he could recognize that it might be easier for the Clan to accept him if they believed that Talltail was his father.

“Will you come with me?” Talltail asked.

Tiny trusted Talltail’s kind eyes and humility. And it was plain to Tiny how much Talltail loved Jake. Tiny had come here with his father in search of a place he could belong, and it seemed as though he wouldn’t just have a nest to sleep in. Talltail was committed to caring for him and supporting him. Quince had always been nice to him—made sure his littermates wouldn’t leave him out and scolded them for their bullying. But the way Talltail and Jake were treating him felt different, somehow. It was as though they wanted to watch him succeed.

He nodded. “I will.”

Talltail’s amber eyes brightened and he rubbed his muzzle against Tiny’s forehead, purring. “About how old are you? You’re much too small for six moons.”

“Not nearly old enough to be apprenticed,” Jake agreed. “He’s about three moons old.”

“Ah, so it’s to the nursery with you,” Talltail said. “We don’t have any queens at the moment, but Plumclaw should be moving into the nursery soon. Perhaps she’ll watch over you until her kits are born in a moon or so.”

Tiny’s fur prickled and he took a step back at the unfamiliar name. What was he getting into? Could he really trust all these strangers to look after him? In winter, no less? Tiny had already gotten the impression that prey was scarce right now, and he feared being seen as just another mouth to feed. Would he gain their respect if he had to be kept in the nursery for a few moons before he could prove himself?

Talltail noticed Tiny’s apprehension and purred. “Or I could move in the nursery!”

Jake’s whiskers twitched. “Would they let you?”

Talltail shrugged, a teasing twinkle to his eye. “Why wouldn’t they? He’s my kit now, isn’t he? I know I could look after Tinykit and handle my duties as Clan deputy just fine.”

“Tinykit?” he echoed, his heart dropping. Now that he had agreed to joining WindClan, he began to feel the stirrings of regret—no, not regret, not yet anyway—but he was having second thoughts. Everything was changing all at once. At the same time, not enough things were changing. He didn’t know if he was ready for it, and he certainly wasn’t sure of how to express these feelings in words. Frustration fluttered in his chest.

“You’ll need a Clan name,” Talltail said patiently. “Tiny works fine as a name, and it’ll be easier to get used to—”

“But I don’t want to be called Tiny anymore!” It burst out of him. If he were going to join WindClan, he wanted no tie to his life as a kittypet. Tiny had been the runt of the litter, weak and misunderstood. He didn’t want that name to follow him for the rest of his life. He wanted a strong name, a name that would make others respect him. “Not Tiny, not Tinykit, not Tinypaw—nothing! Give me a new name!”

Jake’s green eyes were owlishly big. He looked a bit hurt. “You don’t want to be called Tiny anymore?”

“It isn’t who I am,” he replied with a swish of his tail. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Talltail said to Tiny, with a quelling glance at Jake. “This is why apprentices and warriors get a change in name. Why a leader takes the name -star. To show the growth of a cat’s character. If ‘Tiny’ no longer defines you, then you don’t have to keep it. I’ll ask Heatherstar to change it.”

He dipped his head gratefully to Talltail. He would wait for Heatherstar to accept him into WindClan with his new name.

“I think it’s time for T—” Talltail caught himself and amended, “I think we should head towards camp. It’s getting late.”

Jake nodded sadly. He bent down to sniff at his kit’s fur and gave him a lick at the top of his head. “Goodbye, my sweet kit.”

“Will you visit?” he asked Jake hopefully. He’d liked spending this brief time with his father and didn’t want this to be the last time he would ever see Jake. The longing look that passed from Talltail to Jake told him that the WindClan deputy was hoping for the same thing.

Jake smiled down at his kit. “Who knows what the future holds?”

Talltail’s voice rumbled in his throat as he touched noses with Jake. “Goodbye, my dear friend.”

“Goodbye, Talltail,” Jake rasped.

Talltail’s eyes clouded with sorrow. “I wish you would come with me.”

“You know that I can’t,” said Jake.

Talltail nodded. He whispered, “I know. I wish—” The WindClan deputy cut himself off and shook his head as though to clear it. Talltail nosed the little kit forward and said, “Come on, child. It’s time for us to go. We’ll take the fastest route home. You must be exhausted.”

He nodded fiercely in agreement.

“I can give you a badger ride to camp if you like,” Talltail offered. 

“A badger ride?”

“You don’t know what badger rides are?” Talltail asked, glancing up at Jake.

The ginger tabby and kit shook their heads.

“Badger rides are one of a Clan kit’s favorite activities,” Talltail meowed with excitement. “The kit gets on a warrior or apprentice’s back and the warrior carries the kit around.”

“That sounds like fun!” said the little black kit.

Jake’s whiskers twitched. “Wish I’d thought of that on the way here. He’s getting too old to be carried by his scruff.”

“Too old perhaps, but certainly not too big,” Talltail teased gently, and the kit’s enthusiasm for the badger ride began to evaporate. Talltail purred and licked the kit’s cheek. “Sweet kit, you should be grateful you aren’t bigger! You would’ve had a harder journey otherwise. Now get on my back. It’s time for us to go home.”

The nameless kit jumped and latched onto Talltail’s shoulders, and the black-and-white tom grunted with pain.

“Careful with those claws!” Talltail hissed, looking back over his shoulder as the kit got into a position where he wouldn’t be likely to slip off.

“Sorry!” The kit slid his claws back. “I think I’m ready now.”

Talltail stood up and they said one final sad farewell to Jake, nuzzling muzzles and giving caring licks onto each other’s faces. Finally, Talltail turned away from the darkening sky of the east to face the setting sun, blazing golden and red. He began with a slow pace, as though testing to be sure that the kit on his back wouldn’t fall. Gradually Talltail’s strides quickened until he was racing across the moorland and the kit had to dig his claws in lightly. The WindClan deputy didn’t protest this time.

The kit tried to take note of any landmarks, but the expanse of moorland territory all looked the same to him. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of Talltail’s neck. He would be getting a real tour of WindClan’s territory soon enough, he was sure. The kit was just about to drift into sleep when he felt Talltail stop abruptly. He forced his eyes open to see the entrance of a tunnel of gorse.

“I think it’s time for you to get off, little one,” came Talltail’s quiet mew.

The kit slid off of Talltail’s back and shook out his fur. This was the entrance to the WindClan camp. His new home. He didn’t wait for Talltail to nudge him forward, didn’t even look back. He stepped into the gorse tunnel.  

Chapter Text

When the tunnel opened up around Talltail and the kit, a busy scene met them: cats taking prey from a pile near the middle of the hollow or grooming each other in the twilight. Nests of moss and sheep wool were lying under the scarce cover of the walls of the camp. The kit took in the sight with wide eyes and fur bristling out with uncertainty. Did these cats really sleep out in the open? Even though the snow had melted a bit in the sun, it was far too cold for that. And what did they do while it was raining or snowing? The kit suppressed a shiver.

A few cats looked up from their meals as he and Talltail passed them, and he forced himself not to shrink back at the WindClan cats’ curious gazes and low whispers. These would be his Clanmates soon. It was best not to appear cowed by them.  

A black-furred warrior with a twisted forepaw stood up from where he had been eating, leaving the bones and feathers of some bird on the floor of the hollow. He approached them. “Talltail. What are you doing with a kittypet kit?”

“He’s hurt,” said Talltail, brushing past the black tom. “I’m taking him to Barkface so that he can be seen to.”

Barkface? All these names of cats that he didn’t know. The kit could barely muster a sense of frustration, he was so tired. What about meeting with Heatherstar to join the Clan? But he followed behind Talltail without a word.

“Where did you find him?” The black tom was undeterred and kept pace with them as they came near a dip in the earth near a patch of brambles. Upon closer inspection, the kit realized that the brambles hid the entrance to an underground burrow. The kit widened his eyes with awe, turning to the two WindClan warriors. Talltail gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement as the other warrior kept speaking. “Kittypets don’t often come around WindClan territory.”

“Let’s just say that he’s my kit,” Talltail replied, and ignored the way the warrior’s green eyes blazed with questions. “Can you do me a favor, Deadfoot?”

Deadfoot’s ears pricked. “Of course.”

“Have Heatherstar meet me in the cleric den,” Talltail said.

Deadfoot dipped his head and shot off in the direction of a small cave below a large boulder. Atop the boulder stood a tree, its twisted roots keeping hold of the stone like a vice. Deadfoot slipped inside of the cave, and the kit marveled at the warrior’s speed. Even with three legs, that was some of the fastest running he’d ever seen. If he stayed in WindClan, would he ever move like that?

“Come on.” Talltail’s voice made him break away from his thoughts. “Let’s get your injuries seen to.”

“You use burrows for dens!” he said finally, unable to keep his enthusiasm at bay any longer as he slipped inside the tunnel. Talltail purred but said nothing in reply.

“What’s that?” called an unfamiliar voice, and the kit stopped dead as a brown tabby looked up from a pile of herbs. “Oh. Well, what do we have here?”

Talltail came to stand behind the kit and nodded at the brown tabby tom. “This is Barkface, the Clan’s cleric. He tends to the cats who are injured or sick. Barkface, I told you about—Jake.”

“You did,” Barkface agreed. “Is this kit his?”

Talltail nodded. “I’m going to raise him as my own now. We just have to wait for Heatherstar. I brought him here first because he’s injured.”

Barkface hummed noncommittally and stepped closer to the kit, sniffing at his injured ear and scratched muzzle. The kit stiffened, but let the cleric inspect him closely. Barkface raised his forepaw and parted some of the fur around his neck gently, as though examining him for any injuries he may have missed. The kit suppressed a gasp, trying not to think of sharp fangs brushing against the skin of his neck.

“We’ve already licked them clean,” said the kit nervously, not knowing if he should say anything at all. “A-and they’ve stopped bleeding.”

“But you’re in pain,” Barkface said. It wasn’t a question. “And we still need to make sure that they don’t get infected.”

“How do you do that?”

“Usually with a poultice of marigold or goldenrod,” said the cleric, turning away from the kit and Talltail to take a look at the different piles of dried herbs in one corner of the den. “There are other herbs for it too. I’ll mix in some dock as well.”

It was at that moment that a lilac gray-and-white molly poked her head into the tunnel of the cleric den. “Talltail? What’s going on here?” The burrow could not fit all four cats comfortably, but the molly squeezed inside. Like most of the WindClan cats, she had a slim, wiry build and a short, thick pelt. She looked at Talltail and then down at the kit, her gaze settling on his purple kittypet collar.

“Heatherstar,” Talltail said, shifting uncomfortably under the WindClan leader’s unrelenting gaze. “This is… my friend—the one who convinced me to return home—this is his kit.”

“I see.” Heatherstar’s mew was quiet and thoughtful. “And you would have us train him to be a warrior? Look at how small he is. Look at his collar, Talltail. The Clan would never accept him like that.”

The kit’s pelt bristled. Would the WindClan leader really be so callous as to send him away? He’d come so far already!

“They accepted me back,” Talltail pointed out. “They accepted me as their deputy when you chose me. Surely they would accept this kit. My kit.”

Barkface was watching the discussion between deputy and leader without input. He had gathered some herbs and was chewing them into a paste. The kit found himself wishing that Barkface would say something, but he got the sense that the cleric was gathering his own thoughts as he worked.

“Are you ready for the Clan to question your loyalty for this?” Heatherstar asked.

“I will fight for this kit,” Talltail insisted, the fur on the back of his neck rising.

Finally, Barkface spat out the poultice onto one of his forepaws. Barkface caught the kit’s eye and blinked at him; the cleric’s amber gaze was warm and comforting. He began pressing the poultice against the kit’s injuries, and he sighed with relief. One of those herbs that Barkface used in the poultice clearly soothed pain.

Barkface glanced up from his work and meowed, “He’s only a kit. There will be more time to assess how he adjusts to Clan life once he’s apprenticed. For now, our only duty is to care for him, as all Clans do for its kits.”

Heatherstar blinked and reluctantly nodded. “Barkface is right. Very well, Talltail. What is his name?”

“I don’t have one,” the kit said. “I did have a name, but I got rid of it.”

The WindClan leader started, as though she had been expecting him to accept his fate without comment. She shook her head and addressed him directly, “Then your name shall be Blackkit for now.”

Blackkit couldn’t help but feel a twinge of dissatisfaction. He had hoped for a name that would be more outstanding. Blackkit as a name seemed rather unremarkable, but at least Heatherstar hadn’t named him after his size. He could grow to like his name in its plainness. Besides, he had a true Clan name now. It was proof that he’d been accepted in the Clan.

Excitement fluttered in his chest, and Barkface muttered at him to keep still as he kept applying the poultice. Blackkit licked his lips apologetically, but couldn’t tamper it down completely. He was a member of WindClan now! He would prove himself able to adjust to Clan life. He would make an apprentice as formidable as Tigerpaw and a warrior as clever as Talltail.

Blackkit looked past Heatherstar and Talltail, out of the burrow, and wondered what Tigerpaw had done after stalking away from the attack. Had he even spared a second thought to the kittypet he’d tormented?

No, Blackkit decided. He wouldn’t be as formidable as Tigerpaw. He would be more formidable than him.

“There,” said Barkface, pushing a leaf forward with a couple of tiny black seeds. “I’m finished with dressing his injuries. Have him take these poppy seeds.”

“Does he need to stay here?” Talltail asked.

The cleric shook his head. “He should be fine sleeping in his own nest, but I’d like to see him in the morning and in the evening for the next few days. I want to reapply the poultice and check over him so be sure he doesn’t get any infections.”

“On that subject,” said Heatherstar, “we don’t have a queen to look after him until Plumclaw moves into the nursery.”

“I’ll stay in the nursery,” Talltail volunteered. “He’s fully weaned. I can look after him in between my duties as deputy.”

“He’s still a kit, Talltail,” Heatherstar said. “He needs to be under the care of a queen. It is not usual for a Clan deputy be in the nursery.” She sighed. “But I suppose the entire situation is unusual enough. All right. Get him settled in the nursery. I will be holding a Clan meeting about this shortly.”

Talltail carefully folded the leaf with the poppy seeds and took it in his mouth. He twitched his tail for Blackkit to follow him out of the medicine den. Blackkit padded beside Talltail. Unlike the medicine den which was a burrow underground hidden by brambles, the nursery was in a thicket of gorse near the edge of the camp. The WindClan deputy nodded at him to go inside and Blackkit nosed his way in. The interior of the nursery carried the faint scent of milk. There were no nests, but as Talltail set down the poppy seeds, he promised that he would be back with moss and sheep wool.

Blackkit curled up on the soft worn grassy floor of the nursery and waited until Talltail came back with clumps of wool hanging from his mouth. He dropped the soft things down onto the ground and began shaping them into a nest that would be large enough for the both of them.

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey come gather beneath the Tallrock for a Clan meeting.” Heatherstar’s voice rang out across the clearing, and Blackkit blinked up at Talltail. He had had a long day, and sleep was tugging at his eyes.

He yawned. “Do I go, too?”

Talltail reluctantly nodded. “It does concern you, and you may as well be there so that you can be formally introduced to the Clan.”

“I’m tired,” he said.

“I know, Blackkit.” Talltail’s voice was gentle. “You can sleep soon.”

Blackkit stumbled to his paws and followed Talltail out of the nursery. All the WindClan cats were gathering beneath the tall boulder above where Heatherstar made her den. Some of the warriors were shooting quick glances in Blackkit’s direction, and he pressed closer to Talltail.

“As some of you are probably aware,” Heatherstar began, “Talltail has brought a young kit to join WindClan. He—”

“That’s a kittypet!” said a young dark brown tabby. “Look at his collar! Talltail brought a kittypet kit here?”

“Mudpaw,” Talltail responded calmly, “this kit is mine. Or do you think that is not enough for him to claim WindClan as his rightful home?”

Mudpaw shut his mouth, amber eyes flashing with frustration. He turned to a gray tabby beside him and muttered something under his breath. Many of the older cats—warriors—were glancing at each other uneasily as well. Blackkit shuffled his paws. Would Talltail’s standing with his Clanmates really be enough?

“I mean no disrespect, Talltail,” said a pale ginger molly. “But how are we supposed to accept this kit? How are we supposed to accept you?”

“I am as loyal to WindClan as I have ever been,” Talltail said. “Do you truly believe I would be bringing a kit to train as a warrior if I didn’t want to be a part of the Clan anymore? I want WindClan to be strong, and I want us to care for him until he is ready to train.”

Heatherstar had been watching the Clan discuss the issue in silence, but now she broke in. “I have already accepted the kit and given him the name Blackkit.”

“Without consulting us first?” cried an elderly white tom.

“Talltail is your deputy and a fine warrior,” Heatherstar said sternly, blue eyes as bright as lightning. “I’m sure Blackkit will be an asset to this Clan once he’s of age. I called this meeting simply to introduce all of you to a future warrior of WindClan. As for the care of Blackkit, we currently have no queens in the nursery. Talltail has told me that he is willing to sleep in the nursery and spend time with Blackkit, but he is still the deputy. We need someone else to help look after Blackkit until he is ready to be apprenticed.”

“I can move into the nursery as well,” a dark gray molly offered. This must be Plumclaw, the expectant queen that both Talltail and Heatherstar had mentioned before. “My kits won’t be born for a moon. I’m sure it’ll be good practice for when my own kits get bigger.”

Talltail dipped his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Plumclaw. I know that you didn’t want to leave your warrior duties quite so soon.”

“Well, I was going to have to move in eventually,” Plumclaw purred, “and this way the apprentices will wait on me for a little longer.”

Heatherstar nodded. “The matter is settled now. This meeting is over.”

With that, the leader jumped down from the Tallrock and the crowd began to disperse, muttering amongst themselves. Blackkit didn’t care to listen in on their conversations much, but he noticed a lot of cats were glaring at his collar.

“Come on,” said Talltail, angling his head toward the nursery. They began to walk in the direction of the thicket of gorse. “You can meet everyone individually tomorrow morning. You need to rest now.”

Blackkit blinked up at Talltail and nodded. He entered the nursery and licked up the poppy seeds. As his eyes grew heavier, Blackkit sank gratefully into his nest of moss and wool. It was softer and warmer than he’d expected it to be. Talltail curled up next to him, laying his tail atop Blackkit’s flank like it was a Twoleg blanket. Blackkit found himself kneading against Talltail like he used to do while he was still nursing from Quince.

“Goodnight, sweet Blackkit,” he heard Talltail purr as closed his eyes and began to drift into sleep. “Welcome to WindClan.”

Chapter Text

Blackkit clenched his teeth and strained against the twigs of a budding shrub just outside the WindClan camp. He had purposefully caught the twigs on his collar. It had to work this time. He was tired of seeing warriors like Shrewclaw and Cloudrunner glare disdainfully at the forsaken mark of Twolegs around his neck. His six moons were fast approaching, and Heatherstar would never make him an apprentice like this.

The WindClan leader’s words about how the Clan would never accept him while he wore a collar echoed in his head every time Blackkit was alone. He’d finally had enough of it. Blackkit had decided to take matters into his own paws and had snuck out through the gorse wall of camp to see if he could break off his collar. He didn’t think that he would be able to suffer the indignity of asking even Talltail or Plumclaw for help. This was something that he had to do on his own. His final break from his past as a kittypet.

Blackkit heard a snap. The triumphant feeling rushing to his chest was quickly overtaken with mortification as he realized that it was the twigs that had broken off, not his collar. Blackkit lashed his tail with frustration and shook his head fiercely to dislodge the twigs caught between his collar and his skin, pricking at his neck. They fell onto the floor and Blackkit kicked dirt over them.

Suddenly he went tumbling sideways with the weight of two smaller kits leaping onto him. “Oof!” Thinking quickly, Blackkit rolled onto his back. He knew it wouldn’t hurt them, but he definitely wasn’t in the mood for games. “Get off me!”

The delighted squeals coming from Ashkit and Morningkit told him that this was exactly the outcome they’d been hoping for, but Blackkit got up and shook out his fur. He frowned at the two other kits. Morningkit was a tortoiseshell-and-white molly, while Ashkit looked a copy of her mother with her dark gray pelt. They both had amber eyes glittering with laughter.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“We were practicing our stalking,” Ashkit replied, sitting up and curling her white-tipped tail—the only feature of hers that distinguished her from Plumclaw—over her forepaws.

“What were you doing?” Morningkit wondered, a curious gleam in her eyes.

“None of your business,” Blackkit said, brushing past his two nursery mates to find where he had squeezed through the gorse wall of camp.

At first, he had been quite happy when Morningkit and Ashkit had grown enough to play with him properly. Talltail had spoiled him to a point where even in leaf-bare Blackkit had wanted for nothing, but he had missed having playmates around his age. Not that Socks and Ruby had ever been good playmates. They’d ignored him more than they’d played with him.

He remembered how constantly worried he had been about hurting Morningkit and Ashkit those first few weeks after Plumclaw had given birth. He had hovered over them like a mother hen. They’d been so small, mewling and blindly squirming around trying to get at Plumclaw’s milk. At two moons old, they were completely weaned now and had been able to handle rough play for weeks. They had even grown bigger than Blackkit remembered being at their age.

But their robustness meant that Blackkit rarely had a moment alone anymore. Now he found himself longing for the time he had been the only kit in the nursery and being fussed over by the Clan.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be in camp?” Blackkit called behind himself as he found a hole large enough for him to slip through back into camp.  

He heard the two of them scamper after him and Morningkit’s voice chirp in reply, “Aren’t you?”

He looked back over his shoulder to see that the two younger kits had caught up to him. Blackkit ignored Morningkit’s pointed question and began to squeeze through the thicket of gorse. Thorns pricked at his pelt, but he was used to it after moons of living among the gorse.

“You’re still a kit too you know,” Ashkit said hotly as she followed him. He could feel her breath against the tip of his tail. “Being older than us doesn’t mean you get to break the rules!”

“I think I can bend them a bit,” Blackkit said. He pushed his way into camp, coming out near the nursery. He narrowed his eyes as he looked across the camp. The weather had grown warmer with newleaf, and the camp was busier than he’d ever seen it with cats coming and going from hunting patrols. It was before sunhigh and the prey-heap was already swelling with the morning’s catch.

He wondered if any cat had noticed his disappearance and dared them to chastise him if they had. What a sight that would be, reprimanding a cat almost ready to be an apprentice over sneaking out of camp for a few heartbeats!

“I am going to be an apprentice soon.”

“Soon isn’t now,” Morningkit huffed. “Why are you in such a rush to join the apprentices anyway? I thought you hated Mudpaw.”

Blackkit rolled his eyes. It was for his benefit alone, considering the other two kits couldn’t see him do it. He faced the two of them again and sighed. “I don’t hate Mudpaw. He hates me. He doesn’t think a kittypet can make a good warrior.”

“What does Mudpaw know?” Ashkit scrunched up her nose.

“Exactly!” Blackkit agreed. He puffed out his chest. “I want to prove him wrong! I can’t do that while I’m stuck in the nursery.”

 “Is that why you were trying to take off your collar?” Ashkit asked.

Blackkit flattened his ears, feeling lightly ashamed. So they had realized what he was up to outside of the camp walls. “Maybe.”

“I think it looks cool,” Morningkit offered. “Imagine what you’d look like in battle with that!”

Blackkit silently thought that he would look ridiculous with it in battle, not to mention what a liability it was when any cat could grab his collar in their teeth and choke him with it. Like Tigerpaw had done. The reminder of his encounter with the ThunderClan patrol those few moons ago turned his mood dark again, and he turned his head away from his nursery mates to hide the way his eyes flashed in anger. He would not let a Clan cat defeat him like that again. “What’s so cool about a piece of Twoleg rubbish around my neck?”

“It’s like a trophy,” Ashkit said, bouncing around to face him again. “Proof that you’ve turned away from Twolegs.”

“It could look like the opposite, Ashkit,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Like I’m keeping a paw in each world.”

Morningkit flicked her tail with annoyance. “That’s mouse-brained. Anyone who pays even a little attention to you knows you’re a Clan cat at heart. And you’re the Clan deputy’s kit anyway!”

Blackkit wanted to tell the two of them that being the Clan deputy’s kit—at least for him—wasn’t all that great. The majority of WindClan cats seemed to be aware that Talltail wasn’t truly his father, but what surprised him about this was that those same cats were the ones who welcomed Blackkit the most warmly. Cats like Deadfoot, Barkface, Wrenflight, and Plumclaw.

Other cats inwardly seethed at Talltail for breaking the warrior code and falling in love with a kittypet, even knowing that he hadn’t sired Blackkit. They never admitted it, of course, so Blackkit was left to wonder whether their objections to his place in WindClan were based in the warrior code or in their sense of superiority about Clan blood. From what Blackkit could gather through gossip from the elders, the previous deputy Reedfeather had also broken the warrior code by falling in love outside of WindClan. Reedfeather’s kits were in RiverClan, a perpetual embarrassment for the cats living on the moors.

Blackkit couldn’t understand why it was treated as such a scandal if these types of relationships happened all the time anyway. He had adjusted to many aspects of Clan life—learned about StarClan, territory disputes, all the different ceremonies, and still this one thing bemused him.

No, being the Clan deputy’s kit didn’t feel so prestigious when half the Clan whispered about Blackkit’s kittypet roots whenever Talltail turned his back. But being Talltail’s kit… A rush of affection surged over Blackkit. He couldn’t wait for Talltail to come home from his border patrol. Who cared about prestige? Blackkit was loved!

“I’m glad Talltail’s my father,” he said to Morningkit and Ashkit, raising his chin proudly. “But it has nothing to do with his status as deputy!”

“There you three are,” said a new voice, and the kits all turned to see Deadfoot and Plumclaw approaching them with quick strides. The look on Deadfoot’s face was uncharacteristically stern as he demanded, “Where did you go off to?”

“Blackkit snuck out of camp!” Ashkit said.

“Shut up,” Blackkit hissed at the younger kit, but Ashkit looked unrepentant. To Plumclaw and Deadfoot he said, “I—er, I was only just outside the walls. I came right back when I realized these two had followed me, I swear.”

Plumclaw shook her head and sighed. “I suppose it makes sense that you’d get restless, being the age you are. But you need a warrior with you if you’re going to leave camp until you’re an apprentice. Understood?”

“Yes, Plumclaw,” Blackkit muttered. He didn’t know why he was the only one being lectured on this. Ashkit and Morningkit had followed him, after all. Were they not capable of making their own decisions?

“Thank you for bringing them straight home,” Plumclaw said, rubbing her muzzle against Blackkit’s head. His frustration lightened into relief. At least she hadn’t been too harsh with him. “You’re a smart, sweet kit. They look up to you.”

“‘Course we do,” Morningkit said, gently batting at Blackkit’s tail. “He’s bigger than us!”

“Not for long,” Ashkit mewed, stretching herself up to her full height. “One day I’ll be bigger than you, Blackkit.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Blackkit purred. Now that he’d left his old name behind, his size didn’t bother him so much anymore. No cat in WindClan other than Talltail knew the name he’d gone by as a kittypet. The quips about his smallness felt less like taunts and more like gentle teasing. He looked back at Plumclaw and Deadfoot, his ears flattening slightly. “Are you going to tell Talltail about me leaving camp?”

Deadfoot looked at Plumclaw, as though he was letting her decide. Blackkit figured that was only fair; Blackkit was her responsibility when Talltail wasn’t around, after all. Plumclaw’s amber gaze studied Blackkit for a moment before she shook her head. “I’ll keep this to myself. No one got hurt, and you came straight back. But I think I might have to give Talltail and Heatherstar a talking to about making you an apprentice already!”

“Really?” Blackkit asked, jumping to his paws in excitement. Then remembered why he had snuck out of camp in the first place and deflated. “But…”

Plumclaw frowned. “What’s the matter, sweet?”

“I’m a kittypet,” Blackkit said bitterly.

“Not anymore you aren’t,” Plumclaw meowed, looking offended on his behalf. “You haven’t been for moons! You’ve got teeth and claws and a bright mind. You can be a warrior like any other cat here.”

“Even with his kittypet collar?” Morningkit asked.

“Especially with his collar,” Deadfoot put in.

Morningkit and Ashkit shot Blackkit victorious looks, but he bristled under their gazes. He sniffed. “Not every cat looks at it like that.”

“That’s true,” said Deadfoot, nodding along attentively. “In fact, many cats might use it against you. But you could see it that way.” He held out his twisted forepaw. “If you take pride in it, then it ceases to be something that others can hold over you. Do you understand?”

Blackkit blinked. He hadn’t thought of it like that before. He felt embarrassed that he was letting something like a kittypet collar get in the way of him becoming a warrior when Deadfoot was so proud of his twisted forepaw. Blackkit wasn’t sure if he fully agreed with Deadfoot’s words, but he did feel better about his collar. He might not be proud of it, but he didn’t need to let it hold him back. Slowly Blackkit nodded. “Thanks, Deadfoot.”

“You’re all right, kit,” Deadfoot purred.

.

True to her word, Plumclaw had spoken with Talltail and Heatherstar about the timing of Blackkit’s apprentice ceremony. Blackkit could tell, because when Talltail returned to the nursery at sunset, his father’s eyes were glittering with pride. Plumclaw and the other two kits were still out eating, so they were alone in the den. Talltail licked Blackkit’s ear, and then moved on to the top of his head, and onto the rest of his face, as though he would never get the chance to groom Blackkit again. Talltail pulled back and simply stared at his kit. Along with the pride, Blackkit realized there was a shadow of wistfulness in his eyes.

“Talltail?” Blackkit prompted softly.

“I suppose you are getting too big for the nursery,” Talltail said. He nuzzled at Blackkit’s neck fur. “But you’re still my little kit. I feel like I didn’t get enough time of this. Raising you. Sleeping curled up together. Giving you badger rides.”

“I want to be an apprentice,” Blackkit told him, feeling a painful stab in his heart. He pressed against Talltail’s warm flank. “But I’ll miss this.”

“If only Jake had given you to me sooner. Three moons weren’t enough,” Talltail lamented.

Blackkit wondered what his life would have been like if he’d been raised in WindClan from the beginning. It was impossible. Quince never would have let that happen if she had known about it, and despite Blackkit’s curiosity about the wild forest cats, he’d never thought about living with them until Socks and Ruby had pushed him out of the Twoleg nest like a couple of cuckoo chicks. He still didn’t think there was anything wrong with being a kittypet, and might have stayed one if his littermates hadn’t been so cruel to him.

But it was done now. Blackkit didn’t feel grateful to them exactly, but he was glad that he had found his way to Talltail. He was a WindClan cat. And when he became an apprentice, he would be able to offer so much more.

“I’ll still be around,” Blackkit said, brightening at the possibilities that were ahead of them as he grew. “And we can do more things together! We can hunt together and go on patrols.”

Talltail purred. “But you won’t need me as much.”

“I’ll always need you,” Blackkit promised. “When I’m old and have silver about my muzzle, I’ll still think of you and want you near me.”

“Wanting to be near me isn’t the same as needing me,” Talltail said.

“Isn’t it better though? Wanting you near me even when I don’t need you?”

Talltail hummed with agreement and continued to groom Blackkit with slow, meticulous strokes. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied that Blackkit’s pelt was shiny and silky.

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey come gather beneath the Tallrock for a Clan meeting,” called Heatherstar, and Blackkit scrambled to his paws. It was happening! He was going to be an apprentice! He was going to be an apprentice right now! Talltail had made sure he looked presentable. Nothing could be done about his collar, of course, but he kept what Deadfoot had told him earlier in mind. He raised his chin and dared any cat to speak up about it during the ceremony!

“Not so fast,” Talltail purred as stood up to follow him. “You don’t want to ruin all my hard work and go in front of the Clan looking a mess, do you?”

Blackkit’s ears twitched. Even though excitement was rushing through him, he slowed down and kept pace with Talltail as they walked purposefully to the crowd of Clanmates gathering below the Tallrock. “Do you know who my mentor will be?”

“Yes,” Talltail said. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

As they approached the crowd of WindClan cats, Talltail directed Blackkit to sit near the front of the crowd by Plumclaw. Talltail gave Blackkit a proud lick to his cheek, and went to take the Clan deputy’s customary position beside the Tallrock. Heatherstar looked on below her.

“Cats of WindClan, this is a special evening. As you may recall, a few moons ago we welcomed a newcomer into the Clan,” Heatherstar began. He heard a couple of cats murmuring, but his gaze was fixed on the WindClan leader as she acknowledged, “Many of you did not agree with me, but he was a young kit then, and as Barkface kindly pointed out to me, it is our duty to take care of kits, regardless of where they come from. Now it is time for him to take his place among us as an apprentice.”

Blackkit prepared to surge forward, but Plumclaw flicked him lightly with her tail. He glanced back at her to see her shaking her head. Not yet. He felt a flash of frustration—he had never seen an apprentice ceremony before. How was he supposed to know all of the cues?

“Blackkit,” Heatherstar said, and Plumclaw finally gave him a nod.

He stepped forward, breaking away from the crowd on shaking legs. Blackkit looked out at the WindClan cats in front of him. Plumclaw and her kits were looking on with pride, but others only watched with begrudging tolerance. He tried to ignore them. He wouldn’t let them ruin his apprentice ceremony! Blackkit met Barkface’s amber gaze, and the cleric blinked at him. Calm flowed over Blackkit, and he took a deep breath.

“Blackkit, it is time for you to become an apprentice,” Heatherstar meowed. “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Blackpaw. Your mentor will be Deadfoot.”

The young warrior stepped forward to meet Blackpaw, his green eyes glittering in the twilight. Blackpaw was delighted. He admired Deadfoot greatly and had always gotten along with him.

“Deadfoot, you are ready for your first apprentice. You received excellent training from Talltail and you have shown yourself to be a warrior of great courage and resourcefulness,” said Heatherstar warmly.  “I’m sure you will pass on all you know to this young apprentice.”

Deadfoot lowered his head to touch noses with Blackpaw. His green eyes blazed, and Blackpaw realized that Deadfoot was just as excited to mentor his first apprentice as Blackpaw was to learn from his mentor.

“Blackpaw!” Ashkit and Morningkit squealed, leading the chant. But Talltail’s voice was the loudest, reaching past the hollow into the first glimmering stars appearing in the sky. “Blackpaw! Blackpaw!”

Chapter Text

“Wake up.” Mudpaw’s gruff voice cut through Blackpaw’s dreams. A paw prodded at his flank, and Blackpaw blearily blinked the sleep out of his eyes to see the brown tabby apprentice scowling down at him. “It’s dawn. You’re not a kit anymore. You don’t get to sleep in.”

Blackpaw bristled. He knew that! He got to his paws and stretched. Blackpaw had slept well underneath the stars, but already he missed the warmth of the nursery. The apprentices didn’t sleep as close together—or, well, maybe Mudpaw and Tornpaw just didn’t want to sleep near him, thought Blackpaw as he glanced in the direction of the two nests pushed close together.

Tornpaw was already sitting up in his nest washing his ears. Mudpaw looked at his brother, the tip of his tail twitching impatiently.

“Why are you in such a rush?” Blackpaw asked, pausing to lick his chest fur. Even if Mudpaw disliked him, he was determined to at least be civil with his fellow apprentices. Mudpaw was right. Blackpaw wasn’t a kit anymore, and he couldn’t run to the nursery whenever a Clanmate was giving him a hard time. Better face the problem head-on. “Does Redclaw have any big plans with you today?”

Mudpaw glanced at Blackpaw, amber eyes glinting. “Hardly. I wouldn’t be surprised if Redclaw and Cloudrunner make us come along with you while Deadfoot shows you around the territory.”

“It’s not fair,” Tornpaw said, lowering his paw. He didn’t sound irritated so much as resigned. “We’re going to be warriors soon.”

“And instead of hunting or going on patrol, we have to kit-sit you,” Mudpaw added.

Blackpaw scowled. “I don’t have to be kit-sat! I’m going to be learning the same things as you two.”

“Well said, Blackpaw,” came a new voice, and the three apprentices whirled around to see Dawnstripe, a respected senior warrior, padding toward them. The cream-colored molly shot them a cool glance, her pale green eyes narrowed. Mudpaw and Tornpaw had the decency to look contrite. “You two would do well to remember how overwhelmed you were in your first few days as apprentices. Learning each corner of our territory is not an easy task.”

“Yes, Dawnstripe,” Mudpaw muttered.

Dawnstripe dipped her head, satisfied. “Now I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that neither of you will be ‘kit-sitting’ Blackpaw this morning. Deadfoot has other plans. Blackpaw, I suggest you go on ahead at meet him. I’m taking these two hunting.”

Blackpaw nodded fiercely. He left Dawnstripe to get the other two apprentices ready for their hunting patrol and scampered over to the opening of the gorse tunnel where Deadfoot was waiting. Morningkit and Ashkit peeked their heads out of the nursery and Blackpaw yowled out a greeting as he passed them. He skidded to a halt in front of Deadfoot, whose whiskers twitched in amusement.

“I’m here,” said Blackpaw. 

“Getting along with your fellow apprentices?” Deadfoot asked.

Blackpaw shrugged. “I’m trying to. Why aren’t Mudpaw and Tornpaw joining us?”

Deadfoot flicked his tail and went through the gorse tunnel. Blackpaw recalled coming into camp through this very tunnel a few moons ago with Talltail as a kittypet kit. Now he was leaving it as an apprentice of WindClan. Outside the camp, the heather was beginning to revive in the early newleaf. Blackpaw wondered how lovely the moor would look when the flowers began to fully bloom. 

“I want to get to see where you stand as an untrained apprentice without comparison to the older, more experienced apprentices,” Deadfoot said as the two of them continued their fast-paced trek through the long grass. “There’ll be other opportunities to train with them.”

“Okay,” Blackpaw said uncertainly. Did his mentor expect him to hunt or fight without receiving a little bit of training? Was that really a beneficial method of assessing him?

Deadfoot paused and pointed with his muzzle to a flat rock on top of a hill several tree-lengths away. “Do you see that rock?”

Blackpaw nodded.

“That’s called Outlook Rock,” Deadfoot said. “We can see across almost our entire territory there. One of the ways that WindClan warriors are able to defend our territory is by keeping watch for anything out of the ordinary and by sending messages for backup as quickly as possible. Now, I want you to run to Outlook Rock as fast as your legs can carry you. Ready? Go!”

Blackpaw darted off towards Outlook Rock. The wind brushed against his pelt, pushing him onward. Exhilaration blossomed in his chest. After being cooped up within the camp for the past few moons, he was finally racing free through the moorland. He could run across the whole world. Did every WindClan cat feel like this?

He reached the hill where Outlook Rock stood and was forced to slow down to climb it. Blackpaw scrabbled onto Outlook Rock, his heart pounding in his chest, and turned around to see Deadfoot bounding toward him. His mentor jumped onto the rock and nodded approvingly. “Well done.”

“Really?” Blackpaw asked, ears pricking. Keeping up with the full-blooded WindClan cats wasn’t easy—with their long legs, their strides were nearly twice as long as Blackpaw’s.

Deadfoot’s green eyes glimmered with mischief. “If you were a ThunderClan cat.”

“Hey!” Blackpaw tried not to feel too hurt, but he couldn’t deny that some of his enthusiasm evaporated.

“Oh, don’t look so put out, Blackpaw,” purred Deadfoot with a playful cuff to his ear. He turned thoughtful and serious. “The other Clans say that we are build for speed, and they’re right to a degree. But blood can only do so much. Do you understand?”

Blackpaw frowned and shook his head. The way that Clan cats viewed blood was complicated. They tried to pretend that blood wasn’t everything.

“Running and speed are not talents you are born with,” Deadfoot went on. “They are skills, and they can be improved upon. Do you think that I began my apprenticeship running fast as I do now with my paw the way it is?”

Blackpaw widened his eyes and his throat dried up. He hadn’t wanted to bring attention to it, but how could the topic be avoided? Deadfoot was named after his twisted paw. And he acted completely unbothered by it! More than that, Deadfoot even treated it like a source of pride for him. Deadfoot was not about to let any cat, least of all his own apprentice, forget the hard work it took for him to become a warrior. Tentatively, Blackpaw replied, “No.”

Deadfoot nodded. “Exactly. This is why Heatherstar made me your mentor. The circumstances of our births are irrelevant to us becoming great warriors.”

Blackpaw frowned. “My circumstances aren’t the same as yours.”

“No,” Deadfoot agreed, amused. “I wasn’t trying to say that our struggles are the same. But I do know what it’s like to have to prove yourself to your Clanmates. Earning my warrior name meant everything to me. But I did it by learning to work with my twisted paw, not against it or in spite of it. That’s what I hope to teach you, Blackpaw. Adaptability.”

Blackpaw pricked his ears. “So we really can improve my running?”

“You’ll be the fastest cat in WindClan by the time I’m done with you,” Deadfoot promised.

“I’m ready!” Blackpaw said, straightening up.

“In time,” his mentor said. “What I want you to do now is look across the territory. What can you see?”

Blackpaw frowned. All he could see were the rolling hills of the moorland and the wind running through the grass and heather. Across the sea of grass, he could see grass twitching against the direction of the wind. Blackpaw tensed before realizing that it was probably only his Clanmates out hunting. Sure enough, he could scent Mudpaw and Tornpaw in the breeze. Dawnstripe, Redclaw, and Cloudrunner’s scents were much fainter. 

“What poor hunters they must be!” Blackpaw blurted. “They’re upwind of any prey from here to camp!”

“Mudpaw and Tornpaw are more experienced than you,” said Deadfoot, but there was no heat in his rebuke. “I expect that they’ll correct course soon.”

“I want to learn to hunt,” Blackpaw mused. “I bet I could catch rabbits in their own burrows!”

“You’ve been listening to too many of Plumclaw’s tunnelling stories,” Deadfoot teased. “We don’t do much of that anymore.”

Blackpaw didn’t understand why, but he didn’t press. Instead, he continued with overlooking WindClan’s territory. Off into the east, Blackpaw could see the line of the forest that he knew led into RiverClan and ThunderClan territory. A group of huge trees stood apart from the more distant forest, their branches reaching towards the sky in the morning light.

“That’s Fourtrees,” Deadfoot supplied.

“I’ve been there before,” Blackpaw said thoughtfully. “When I was a kit.”

Deadfoot nodded as though this information didn’t surprise him, and Blackpaw supposed that it wouldn’t.

There hadn’t been enough time for Jake to show him all he knew of Fourtrees, so focused he had been to find Talltail. But Blackpaw remembered it being a huge clearing surrounded by four giant oak trees. He knew now that it was where Gatherings were held each full moon, where each Clan leader sat on the Great Rock and gave updates. Blackpaw wasn’t sure if he understood the point of that aspect of the Gathering, but meeting cats from different Clans under a truce intrigued him.

“Are we going there today?” Blackpaw asked.

“I want to show you the Thunderpath first,” said Deadfoot, leaping down from Outlook Rock.

Blackpaw scrambled down after him into the heather fronds. When they reached the stretch of flat black rock, Deadfoot motioned for Blackpaw to stop. Twoleg monsters rushed by, stirring up foul-smelling wind. Blackpaw had lived near Thunderpaths before he’d joined WindClan, but none of them had been so large. Nor had the monsters ever gone so fast on them. Blackpaw fluffed up his fur and followed Deadfoot as his mentor began to walk parallel to the Thunderpath.

“Smell that,” Deadfoot instructed.

Blackpaw curled his lip. “I only smell Twoleg monsters.”

“Try harder,” Deadfoot urged.

The scent of cats reached Blackpaw from across the Thunderpath. It smelled of marsh and pine. Blackpaw frowned. “Is that ShadowClan scent?”

“Yes!” Deadfoot said approvingly.

Blackpaw looked out across the Thunderpath, pensive. He had grown up hearing his Clanmates disparage ShadowClan for their stench, but if anything, the scent was a welcome change from the fumes of the Thunderpath.

“The Thunderpath serves as our border with ShadowClan,” Deadfoot continued. “Always alert another cat if you smell fresh ShadowClan scent on this side of the Thunderpath. ThunderClan and RiverClan scents on our territory are not automatically a threat; they will need to come into our territory in order to reach Highstones. But fresh ShadowClan scent on this side of the Thunderpath always means trouble.”

“ShadowClan doesn’t come into our territory to go to Highstones?” Blackpaw asked.

“Highstones is on their side of the Thunderpath,” Deadfoot explained. They turned away from the Thunderpath, deeper into WindClan territory. The four great oak trees came into view. “There’s Fourtrees now.”

“When’s the next Gathering?” Blackpaw asked.

“It’s in a little under a half moon,” Deadfoot said, leading him through the trees and into the clearing. There stood the Great Rock, jutting out from the ground as though StarClan itself had pulled it from the earth. “Young apprentices don’t usually come to the Gathering, but if Heatherstar sees good progress with you, she might let you join.”

Blackpaw looked up at Deadfoot with wide eyes. “But a half moon is no time at all! What progress can I impress Heatherstar with from now until the next Gathering?”

“You can learn quite a lot in a half moon,” Deadfoot said, stopping at the foot of one of the Great Oaks. “Look at what you’ve already learned today alone. Besides, Gatherings themselves are chances to learn. Meeting cats from other Clans helps you learn how to fight with them, or work with them.”

With that, Deadfoot sniffed at the bark of the Great Oak and directed Blackpaw to smell it. Blackpaw frowned. The scent was quite old, but it felt familiar. It smelled of the forest, of rich soil and ferns. He remembered a snowy forest and instantly he knew which Clan that scent belonged to. Blackpaw took a step back. “That’s ThunderClan.”

“That’s right!” Deadfoot praised. “We are at peace with them at the moment. I think ThunderClan is more concerned with RiverClan.”

But Blackpaw wasn’t paying attention to his mentor. He looked out past Fourtrees and into the forest. He didn’t need praise for remembering the scent of ThunderClan. Blackpaw’s exchange with that ThunderClan patrol as a kit had nearly cost him his life, and he wasn’t ever about to forget it. He was an apprentice now, and soon Tigerpaw would see that the tiny black kit he’d encountered in the forest was not to be reckoned with.

“Blackpaw? Blackpaw!”

Blackpaw started and turned to meet Deadfoot’s gaze. “Sorry. I was just…” He shifted his paws, not knowing how to tell Deadfoot about his experience with the ThunderClan patrol those few moons ago.

His mentor merely nodded, his green eyes sympathetic. Blackpaw wondered if Deadfoot already knew. “It’s all right. Come along, we still have much to see.”

Still? Blackpaw’s excitement for the day was waning. His stomach was beginning to roil with hunger, and his paws were aching.

Deadfoot and Blackpaw retraced their steps back to WindClan territory. From there, Deadfoot picked up the pace. Blackpaw followed on numbing paws through the heather. Soon, Blackpaw could hear the sound of rushing water and he glanced at Deadfoot. “What is that?”

“That’s the sound of the gorge,” Deadfoot said. “We’re approaching our border with RiverClan. Keep close to me as we get nearer.”

“Lilywhisker said she jumped across the gorge when she was an apprentice,” Blackpaw said. Tiredness forgotten, Blackpaw bounded ahead of his mentor with his tail lifted high in the air.

“I told you to stay close!” Deadfoot barked out. Blackpaw skidded to a halt and glanced back at Deadfoot, the tips of his ears burning. All traces of his mentor’s good humor had evaporated; Deadfoot’s eyes were dark with seriousness and his shoulders were tense. “The edge of the gorge is dangerous. Cats have fallen and drowned before—WindClan and even RiverClan cats. I don’t care that Lilywhisker jumped across the gorge as an apprentice. I care about keeping you safe. Understood?”

“Yes, Deadfoot,” Blackpaw said, feeling chastised.

Some of Deadfoot’s graveness melted away. “We’re very close to RiverClan now. Can you scent the border?”

Blackpaw opened his mouth to draw the scent in. He could smell the water from here, but stronger than that was the scent of cats overlaid with a strong odor. “Fishy.”

Deadfoot nodded and flicked his tail. Blackpaw made sure to stay at his mentor’s side as the roaring of the water grew louder. Deadfoot took slow cautious steps until he stopped at the edge of the gorge. “Do you want to look?”

Blackpaw peered over the edge. The river churned down below. His stomach twisted as he understood just how easily a cat could die in the gorge. The roiling waters below were too strong even for a RiverClan cat to swim in, he was sure. Blackpaw swallowed and took a step back, turning his pleading gaze back to his mentor. “Where next?” He didn’t want to spend more time than was necessary here.

All that was left to see was the Twoleg farm at the other side of their territory. Deadfoot and Blackpaw fell into silence as they trekked through the high moor. The wind ruffled Blackpaw’s pelt and he looked up. There wasn’t a cloud in the endless blue sky. A hawk was flying high above them. He felt small but not in a bad way—it was the smallness of recognizing one’s place in the world, the smallness of being connected to the wind and heather.

“You shouldn’t worry about hawks,” Deadfoot said, breaking the quiet between them. His whiskers twitched. “They wouldn’t dare try to get you with me around!”

“I’m not worried about hawks!” Blackpaw replied, though now he began to wonder if he was still small enough for a hawk to carry him away.

“Did you know your father killed a hawk when I was a kit?” Deadfoot asked.

Blackpaw had heard the story. Pride sparked within him. “He saved his younger siblings when they snuck out of camp!”

“Pure luck,” Deadfoot said. “Talltail had been gone for moons. It was like StarClan had led him home in the right moment.”

They reached the very edge of Clan territory. In the distance, Blackpaw could see the jagged points of Highstones, but closer to them was the Twoleg farm that Deadfoot had mentioned, surrounded by a wooden fence.

“So this is where you get the wool!” Blackpaw said to Deadfoot as they watched the sheep graze on the grass stalks from the other side of the Twoleg fence.

His mentor nodded and raised his chin proudly. “Much warmer than anything any other Clan uses to line their nests, I’ll bet!”

“How can you get close enough to them to get the wool?” Blackpaw asked. The sheep were large and he didn’t like the look of their hooves.

“They don’t pay us any mind,” Deadfoot said. “We usually collect any wool that’s stuck on the grass. Just look out for the Twoleg’s dogs.”

“Dogs!” Blackpaw’s eyes widened.

“We’re safe right now,” Deadfoot assured him. “So do you want to try?”

“Collecting some wool?” Blackpaw looked at the sheep on the other side of the fence. Clumps of wool were on the grass. He tasted the air to check for dog-scent, but the scent he detected was several hours old at least. “Sure.”

“Be quick as you can,” said Deadfoot. “I’ll be right here if anything goes wrong.”

“I’ll be quicker than a flash of lightning!” Blackpaw promised.

Cautiously he approached the fence and ducked past it into Twoleg territory. He wasn’t sure if he felt brave enough to go closer to the sheep. Blackpaw stuck near to the fence and picked up whatever he could that was caught in the splinters of the wood or on the grass. His mouth was full of wool when he heard a dog barking in the distance.

Before he could even think, Blackpaw’s feet had pushed him forward. He darted past the fence and headed toward Deadfoot. His mentor’s black pelt was fluffed with alarm. As Blackpaw reached him, Deadfoot tipped his head, gesturing that they should head back into WindClan territory.

“That was close!” Deadfoot said as they raced deeper into the moorland together.

“I’ll say!” Blackpaw tried to speak around the wool in his mouth, but his words came out muffled.

“You did very well, Blackpaw,” Deadfoot praised. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

The sun hovered low on the horizon by the time Blackpaw and Deadfoot returned to camp. His paws had become heavy as stone, but Blackpaw raised his tail high as he marched behind his mentor through the entrance of camp, carrying the wool in his mouth as proudly as he would his first catch of prey.

Inside the camp, cats were sharing tongues or gathering together to eat fresh-kill. Mudpaw and Tornpaw were at the prey-heap, selecting pieces of fresh-kill to take to the elders. Plumclaw was just outside the nursery, grooming a relaxed Mistmouse as Morningkit and Ashkit tussled with one another nearby. As Ashkit pinned Morningkit down, the tortoiseshell kit caught sight of Blackpaw and wriggled out of her sister’s grasp. “He’s back!”

Blackpaw pricked his ears. He couldn’t stop himself from quickening his pace to meet Morningkit and Ashkit as his two friends shook the dust off their fur and hurried towards him.

“Take that to the elders! They need fresh bedding!” Deadfoot called out behind him. Blackpaw glanced back over his shoulder at his mentor and dipped his head in assent.

“You brought back wool!” said Morningkit, her eyes wide.

Ashkit raised a paw, as though she wanted to bat the bundle of wool out of Blackpaw’s mouth. He flinched away and let out a wordless rebuke to the kit, but Ashkit took no note. She blinked up at him. “Where did you get it?”

Plumclaw gave Mistmouse one last lick and stood, purring at her kits’ enthusiastic welcome of their former denmate. She turned to Blackpaw and greeted him warmly, “And how was your first day out as an apprentice, Blackpaw?”

Blackpaw carefully set down the wool and meowed, “It was fantastic! I never knew WindClan territory would be so huge! And I outran a dog to get this wool!”

“A dog?” Morningkit gasped.

“It didn’t get anywhere close to me,” Blackpaw assured her. “It started barking and I tore out of there, quick as anything! Look at my claws!” He held up his forepaw and stretched out his claws caked with soil.

“Sounds like you had quite an adventure,” Plumclaw purred.  

“I’ll tell you all about it!” Blackpaw said. “But I’ve got to take this to the elders first.”

“Go on then,” Plumclaw said, giving him an affectionate nudge. “You don’t want to keep them waiting for fresh bedding.”

Blackpaw nodded and picked the wool back up. He pranced to the elders’ den with his head and tail held high. Perhaps changing the elders’ bedding was only an apprentice chore, but after having spent so long in the nursery, contributing to the Clan in this way made Blackpaw feel more a part of WindClan than he ever had before. When Blackpaw entered the elders’ den, Mudpaw and Tornpaw were already there, cleaning out the elders’ dirty bedding.

Whiteberry and Flailfoot were sharing a rabbit and Lilywhisker was plucking the feathers off of a pigeon.

“Look who finally decided to help out,” Mudpaw said, pawing at a dirty ball of moss.

Tornpaw muttered, “Shut up, Mudpaw.”

Lilywhisker spat out a feather and looked up from her meal. She paid no mind to the two older apprentices. “Welcome, Blackpaw! Is that wool for us?”

Blackpaw nodded and set it down. “I had to outrun a dog for it!”

“Big deal,” Mudpaw snorted. He took some of Blackpaw’s fresh wool and began to shape it into a nest for one of the elders. “Everyone knows that old dog at the Twoleg farm is slower than a snail.”

“Maybe you should let it catch up with you, then,” Blackpaw snapped. He was getting tired of Mudpaw’s quips. “That would make it a fair race, wouldn’t it?”

Whiteberry choked on his bite and coughed to hide his laugh. He attempted to sound stern. “Be nice, you two.”

“It’s just a bit of healthy competition,” Flailfoot said, licking his lips. “StarClan knows I goaded on my fellow apprentices at their age. Remember when I bet you I could catch more rabbits above ground than you could in the tunnels?”

Whiteberry purred. “And the only thing either of us caught that day was a lousy field mouse!”

“Which I caught,” Flailfoot added, his whiskers twitching.

Blackpaw listened to the elders reminisce about their days as apprentices as he followed Mudpaw’s lead and shaped the wool he had brought home into a nest for Lilywhisker. He liked being around the elders. They treated him like they did any other young apprentice—with gentle exasperation. Blackpaw supposed that was fair. They’d seen many things in their long lives.  

“Is that good for you, Lilywhisker?” Blackpaw asked as the light brown molly stood up from her pigeon and settled down into her nest.

“It’s just fine, Blackpaw,” Lilywhisker said. “Do you want to finish off my pigeon?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Blackpaw, “shouldn’t I take something to Barkface before I eat something?”

“He can wait. I invited you. It would be rude to turn me down, wouldn’t it?” Lilywhisker nodded to the remains of her pigeon. “Go ahead.”

Blackpaw dipped his head to the elder in gratitude. Lilywhisker had only left him a few bites, and he was nowhere near full when he polished off the pigeon. “Thank you, Lilywhisker. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I did promise Plumclaw and the kits that I’d tell them all about my first day as an apprentice.”

“Of course,” Lilywhisker said. “Those kits are such sweethearts, aren’t they?”

Blackpaw nodded. Privately he thought that the kits were minor annoyances as well, but they were probably the only true friends around his age that he had. He glanced at the other two apprentices in the den. Mudpaw had finished one nest, and Tornpaw had made another and was now clearing away the dirty used bedding. Blackpaw wondered if he and Mudpaw would ever be like Whiteberry and Flailfoot: with the fires of their youthful rivalry cooled, enjoying a peaceful retirement in the elders’ den as friends.

He bid a quiet goodbye to the elders and nodded to his fellow apprentices, and left the den. Ashkit and Morningkit were nowhere to be found. Blackpaw shrugged and went to the prey-heap to select something to bring to Barkface. He couldn’t let Tornpaw and Mudpaw do every apprentice chore for the night while he waited around for the kits. He took a thrush.

As Blackpaw approached the cleric’s den, the warrior Shrewclaw slipped out and glanced down at him with a scowl.

“Those kits were boasting about your catch of the day,” said Shrewclaw. “Won’t feed anyone with a bit of wool, will you?”

Blackpaw let the thrush fall at his feet. He glared up at the dark brown warrior. No wonder Mudpaw and Tornpaw were so unpleasant, with this cat for a father! “Every apprentice chore is important. It’s my honor to keep the elders in comfort.”

“Your mentor told you that, did he?” Shrewclaw asked. “Do you want to know what I think?” He stared disdainfully at Blackpaw’s purple collar. “Kittypets are only good for lining nests. At least Deadfoot has that right.”

Blackpaw opened his mouth, but couldn’t find any words for a retort.

Shrewclaw turned and began to pad away. He looked back over his shoulder and called out, “Don’t bother taking that in.”

“Blackpaw? Is that you?” Barkface came out of his den, his amber eyes brightening at seeing the younger cat. “Well! How was your first day as an apprentice?”

“Fine,” Blackpaw said. Not even his interactions with Mudpaw and Tornpaw earlier had caused him to feel as worthless as his brief encounter with Shrewclaw had just done. He pushed the thrush forward with his paw. “I brought you this.”

“No, no,” Barkface said. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”

Blackpaw shuffled his paws. He didn’t know how to approach Barkface about Shrewclaw. They were littermates, and Blackpaw feared that the cleric would side with his brother.  “Just something Shrewclaw said to me.”

Barkface sighed. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“What?” Blackpaw looked at Barkface, feeling betrayed. This was almost worse than Barkface siding with Shrewclaw. He didn’t want a half-hearted reassurance.

“I wish I could do more for you, Blackpaw,” Barkface continued. “But you simply will not be able to convince some cats. Unfortunately, my brother is one of them. Stop trying so hard to win their approval.”

“I don’t care about having Shrewclaw’s approval,” he said, curling his lip. “I just don’t want to be seen as a burden. Shrewclaw takes one look at my collar and thinks I don’t have anything to offer to the Clan. Nothing that I’m good for.”

Barkface growled. “No such thing as being a burden, Blackpaw. We take care of one another.”

Blackpaw remembered the day Talltail had first brought him to the WindClan camp. Barkface had said something very similar to Heatherstar back then too, about how kits were supposed to be looked after. But Blackpaw was no longer a kit. “You’re the cleric,” he said. “You’re supposed to say things like that.”

“It doesn’t make it less true,” Barkface purred, giving him a friendly lick on his ear. “You’re a smart cat, Blackpaw. Now you take that thrush and go to your friends in the nursery. I’ve already eaten.”

He was sure that Barkface didn’t mean to dismiss him carelessly, but Blackpaw couldn’t help feeling hurt as he picked up the thrush again. Barkface had told him that he wasn’t a burden, but what else could he be if he couldn’t even take food from the prey-heap to the cleric and the elders? Blackpaw dipped his head in farewell to Barkface, and went in search of Morningkit and Ashkit.

.

It was dark when Talltail returned from his hunting patrol. His father dropped his catch onto the prey-heap and took a couple of field mice. He turned and headed for the nursery, where outside Blackpaw was describing his experience at the gorge to Plumclaw and her kits. His earlier doubts had melted in the face of Ashkit and Morningkit’s enthusiasm, and his eyes were bright as Talltail reached the little group outside the nursery.

“Blackpaw!” Talltail purred. “There’s my favorite apprentice!”

“Talltail!” Blackpaw meowed, jumping up to his paws and touching noses with his father. “I was just telling Plumclaw and the kits about my first day of training.”

“Oh? Was it good?” Talltail asked. He sat down and curled his tail over his forepaws.

“It was amazing! I learned so much!” Blackpaw said, launching into another retelling of his day. Morningkit and Ashkit, who had already heard nearly all of it, groaned.

“Come on, you two,” Plumclaw said, getting to her paws. “If you don’t want to hear it all again, then we should get you to sleep.”

“But I’m not tired!” Ashkit protested.

Morningkit mewed, “I’ll be quiet, promise!”

Plumclaw nudged both of her young daughters, herding them into the nursery. Morningkit and Ashkit said their disappointed goodbyes, and Talltail dipped his head to Plumclaw as she went inside of the den after the kits.

“I don’t know how I’ll keep them entertained just talking about my training every day,” Blackpaw noted. “It’s bound to get boring eventually.”

“You’re their friend,” Talltail said. “Being entertained has nothing to do with it. They simply want to spend time with you.”

Blackpaw felt a stab of regret. He knew he wasn’t always the nicest to the kits, and his new duties as an apprentice would take him away from them more. He hoped they would understand. “I’ll be spending more time with Mudpaw and Tornpaw now.”

“How are they treating you?” Talltail asked, frowning.

Blackpaw shrugged. He didn’t want to bother Talltail with the other apprentices’ spite. “Fine.”

“Because if they’ve said or done anything, I’ll speak to them,” Talltail said. “I won’t tolerate the other apprentices harassing you. For your size, for being born a kittypet—none of it.”

“Talltail,” Blackpaw pleaded, embarrassment making his ears hot. He didn’t need his father to fight this battle for him. If only the most of his worries were a couple of petty apprentices, instead of warriors that would gladly feed him to a hawk! “I can handle it. I didn’t even go train with them today.”

His father nodded. “I know. I worry about you, is all.”

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Blackpaw said. “I’m fine. I even outran a dog today!”

Talltail looked a bit alarmed at the story of the dog, but Blackpaw assured him that it had gotten nowhere near either of them. The WindClan deputy—for Talltail’s expression had transformed from that of a concerned father’s to that of a deputy thinking of how to deal with outside threats—shook his head. There wasn’t much to be done about the Twoleg dog, and Blackpaw felt as though he and Deadfoot had been as cautious as possible.

“How do you like Deadfoot as your mentor?” Talltail wondered.

“Deadfoot is great!” Blackpaw replied. “He’s really clever. When he tells me what to do, he tells me why he wants me to do it. I’m learning a lot from him already.”

His father stood a little straighter and Blackpaw recalled that Deadfoot had once been Talltail’s own apprentice. Had Talltail been the one to suggest to Heatherstar the idea of his former apprentice mentoring Blackpaw? For whatever reason Heatherstar had chosen Deadfoot, Blackpaw was proud to have him as his mentor. He didn’t think that any other cat in the Clan understood him so much.

He looked forward to tomorrow’s training session.

Chapter Text

Blackpaw trudged through the grass, bringing up the rear of the hunting patrol. Today Deadfoot was taking him out with his fellow apprentices for the first time. Redclaw and Cloudrunner were at the front of the group with Deadfoot, whispering to one another about training methods. Blackpaw knew that this was for the best; as much as he liked them, he couldn’t keep having one-on-one training sessions with his mentor and expect to learn everything he needed to become a warrior. But couldn’t it have waited until Morningkit and Ashkit joined him as apprentices? Instead, he would be dealing with Mudpaw’s kittypet jibes.

Deadfoot glanced behind him to see Blackpaw trailing. His mentor called out lightly, “Keep up, Blackpaw! We have a bit more ground to cover.”

“I think this is the fastest he can go,” Mudpaw snickered.

Tornpaw nudged his brother as though to rebuke him, but even Blackpaw could see the gray tabby apprentice’s whiskers twitch with amusement. Blackpaw did pick up his pace, his black pelt burning with irritation.

The mentors quieted down as they turned toward the abandoned badger set, a popular spot for hunting south of camp. Blackpaw already could smell rabbit, but no cat in the patrol made a move to follow the scent of prey. Cloudrunner flicked his tail to signal to the rest to halt, and the three apprentices stopped. The three warriors turned to face their apprentices.

Mudpaw was the first to speak. “I know that Blackpaw has a lot to learn, but why do we have to be here?”

“Blackpaw can learn just as much, or more, by being with his fellow apprentices,” Deadfoot pointed out. He was careful to keep a neutral tone, but Blackpaw could see the reproach in his mentor’s green eyes.

“And it doesn’t hurt to remind you of your hunting basics,” Redclaw added. The dark ginger tom narrowed his eyes at his apprentice. “You are few moons away from being a warrior, Mudpaw. Act like it.”

 Mudpaw flattened his ears. “Well, we should get on with the lesson, then.”

“Rabbits are hard to catch,” Cloudrunner began. The wind ruffled his pale gray fur as he spoke. “They’re fast and large. Hares are even more so. Before, when we had tunnellers, they would often help us moor-runners hunt by chasing rabbits out of their burrows. We no longer have that option, so—”

“But why did Heatherstar get rid of tunnelling, if it limits how we catch our prey?” Blackpaw interrupted.

Cloudrunner growled low in his throat at the disruption, but it was Redclaw who answered: “Tunnelling was too dangerous. We lost many tunnellers through collapse. The disadvantages merely overwhelmed the benefits.”

“Good riddance, I say,” Cloudrunner said, lashing his tail. “WindClan cats are meant to feel the wind in their whiskers, not mud and dirt.”

Blackpaw wasn’t fully convinced. He knew that Plumclaw had loved tunnelling. She had once told him that the tunnels had saved WindClan from many harsh leaf-bares. Blackpaw didn’t see how tunnelling could be any more hazardous than a patrol aboveground. Cats aboveground could come across a fox or badger at any time.  

Deadfoot shifted and cleared his throat. He was younger than the other two mentors and had been born after the outlawing of tunnelling, and seeing the old rivalry between the two groups of warriors clearly embarrassed him. “All this to say,” Deadfoot meowed, “is that now we must solely rely on our nimbleness to catch our prey. Tornpaw, Mudpaw, can the two of you show Blackpaw the proper position to maximize our speed when catching rabbits?”

Tornpaw slipped into a crouch, keeping his long legs close to his body. His short gray pelt was smoothed down, and his tail was low. Mudpaw copied his littermate, the muscles under his fur trembling as he kept his position.

“Do you see how everything, even their tails, are kept close to their centers?” Cloudrunner circled around his apprentice, gently nudging Tornpaw to adjust his stance slightly. “You don’t have to keep your ears low, Tornpaw.”

Tornpaw protested, “I don’t want a rabbit to take another chunk out of my ear! And it’s faster, I swear!”

Cloudrunner shook his head with amusement and turned back to Blackpaw. “Taking this running position allows you to run with as little resistance from the wind as possible. Now’s your turn, Blackpaw.”

Rivalry with the other two apprentices momentarily forgotten, Blackpaw lowered himself and placed his paws close to his core. His eyes absorbed every minor detail of Tornpaw and Mudpaw’s stances, and he translated it as best he could in his own. Even his whiskers were flat against his cheeks. Blackpaw glanced at Deadfoot for approval.

“It needs some work,” Deadfoot admitted, “but you clearly understand the idea. With practice, you’ll master it quickly.”

Blackpaw and the other two apprentices sat back up, ears pricked for more direction from their mentors.

“But that’s only part of it,” Redclaw said. “You need to master the initial leap, and keep that position even as you sprint forward. Mudpaw?”

The young brown tabby dropped back into position. Mudpaw swallowed and focused his eyes on a stone jutting out from the ground a tree-length away. Blackpaw couldn’t even see Mudpaw’s muscles bunch before the explosive leap. Mudpaw’s claws were out, no doubt gripping the ground to push him forward faster as his tail curved in order to steer himself. He turned around and dashed back to them.

Blackpaw nodded and copied Mudpaw, subtly gathering the muscles on his haunches to propel him forward with a huge leap. He rushed to the stone and back, flanks heaving with effort. His collar suddenly felt too tight, too constricting. That had never been a problem before. He shook his head, trying not to panic for breath.

Mudpaw let out a bark of laughter. Deadfoot narrowed his eyes at the brown tabby tom.  Mudpaw didn’t betray his thoughts any more, and merely twitched his whiskers. Tornpaw rolled his eyes, looking disinterested.

They practiced more until the sun was about to reach its zenith. Blackpaw had managed to mostly put his discomfort out of his mind. The collar wasn’t that tight. It was his nerves affecting his performance, and he was getting better with the repetition.

Redclaw and Mudpaw were meant to be on the sunhigh patrol, so they got ready to leave.

“Do you think that pace will catch rabbits?” Mudpaw whispered scornfully into Blackpaw’s ear after his latest sprint. Blackpaw flinched away from the older, bigger apprentice and glared at him with icy blue eyes. Mudpaw’s lip curled. “Kittypets shouldn’t be allowed to join the Clans.”

Blackpaw’s fur bristled as he watched Mudpaw and Redclaw pad away in the direction of camp. He would show Mudpaw! He turned back to Deadfoot and Cloudrunner, determination burning in the pit of his stomach.

Deadfoot took a step forward. “I think that’s enough for now. Why don’t we put those techniques to use? The elders don’t eat practice.”

Blackpaw stiffened. He couldn’t help but remember Shrewclaw’s words when he had come home on his first day of training. Won’t feed anyone with a bit of wool, will you? He was sure that Deadfoot hadn’t meant it in that way. His mentor believed in him. But Blackpaw still feared letting him down.

“Tornpaw, you take a trail from here to Outlook Rock,” Cloudrunner ordered, pointing with his muzzle in that direction. Tornpaw sighed and got to his paws. “Blackpaw, you hunt from here down south to the gorge.”

Deadfoot’s voice rumbled low in his throat. “Is it wise to send such a young apprentice out near the gorge alone?”

Cloudrunner flicked his ears with annoyance. “There’s more prey in that direction. They head towards the river for water. Blackpaw will have an easier time catching prey there.” He turned to the small apprentice. “But be careful. Deadfoot will be trailing after you, but he may not be able to help you in time if you get into trouble.”

Blackpaw nodded and got to his paws.

“Good luck,” Tornpaw said.

The other apprentice sounded genuine, and Blackpaw blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected civility from Tornpaw, but he was glad that Mudpaw’s absence had cooled his hostility. Blackpaw wondered how long this would last. He dipped his head. “Thank you. You too.”

“I don’t need it,” Tornpaw said, blue eyes glimmering.

At Deadfoot’s signal, the two apprentices dashed off into opposite directions. Blackpaw kept his mouth open to find the freshest scents. Before long, he could smell rabbit. And there it was, a few fox-lengths away, nibbling on the grass.

Blackpaw crouched and watched the rabbit for a few moments. He was downwind of it, and it hadn’t yet noticed him. He would only need to be fast enough for a few strides… Blackpaw took off with a leap and burst through the heather. The rabbit’s whiskers twitched and it turned tail. He couldn’t let it get away from him! He poured on the speed and landed a whisker away from his prey. Frantically, Blackpaw swiped at the rabbit’s hindlegs, hoping to trip it.

The rabbit slipped out of his claws and disappeared into a rabbit hole.

“Fox-dung!” he hissed as he turned away from the burrow, his black pelt bristling with frustration. “I almost had it!”

Lashing his tail once, Blackpaw rose his head and opened his mouth to taste the air. There had to be something else nearby, if his cursing hadn’t scared it away. He kept padding quietly towards the gorge.

He saw the flicker on the corner of his eye and held his breath. It wasn’t another rabbit. It was a little field mouse. They hadn’t gone over how to hunt mice during the training session, but Blackpaw was going to try anyway. He needed to bring something back home. He owed it to the elders, and he owed it to himself.

Blackpaw kept his pawsteps light as he stalked the mouse. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake he had with the rabbit. This time, he would get as close as he could to the mouse before the pounce. He would practically already be on top of it. The mouse seemed to notice his presence and squeaked. It began to scuttle away, but before it could disappear, Blackpaw launched himself at it.

.

That night, Blackpaw couldn’t sleep. He had gotten home feeling triumphant. He had caught something for the prey-heap! And even after he had proved that he could be a capable hunter and asset to WindClan, Mudpaw had sneered at the mouse he had brought back to camp.

“It’s newleaf,” Mudpaw had said. “We shouldn’t have to survive on scraps.”

Talltail had been proud, though. In fact, he’d selected it for his dinner. For once, Talltail’s praise didn’t warm Blackpaw. It angered him. It felt false.

“You don’t have to patronize me!” he spat at his father, hackles raised. “It’s a tiny field mouse! Who could it feed?”

Blackpaw had skulked off before he could get a response, leaving Talltail looking utterly stunned.

Now Blackpaw curled tighter around himself, feeling guilty over his earlier outburst. He wished he could go back to the comfort of the nursery, but those days were behind him now. He and Talltail both slept underneath the stars with the other warriors and apprentices. Blackpaw opened his eyes a slit. A few tail-lengths away, Mudpaw and Tornpaw were curled up around one another, their breaths heavy with sleep.  

Blackpaw didn’t have that type of companionship anymore, and his chest squeezed. Part of it was his own fault, he knew. Instead of accepting kindness offered to him, he was lashing out. But it didn’t change that he felt so alone.

Quietly, he crept out of his nest. Blackpaw could just hear the jeers that Mudpaw and Tornpaw would throw at him tomorrow morning, but he would be able to bear it if he could allow himself to take this moment of solace.

He padded softly to Talltail’s nest and carefully settled in beside his father. Talltail’s rhythmic breath broke and his amber eyes blearily opened. “Blackpaw?” he rasped. “What are you doing here, my sweet?”

Shame blazing under his pelt, Blackpaw pushed his muzzle into Talltail’s flank. “I just missed you. Would you let me sleep here tonight?”

“Always,” came Talltail’s sleepy purr.

“You’re a good father to me,” Blackpaw whispered. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. But you can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can try,” Talltail said, more wakefully. “I love you, do you know that? Adore you.”

Blackpaw nodded and pressed himself closer against his father. Talltail licked his ear and rested his muzzle on the top of Blackpaw’s head.

There the both of them slept peacefully until just before dawn.

.

The next morning, Blackpaw padded towards the nursery. Deadfoot had joined the dawn patrol, but had decided against taking Blackpaw along with him. They would be training near Outlook Rock later, and apparently Deadfoot wanted him fresh. Blackpaw decided to see his two little friends while he waited for his mentor to return to camp. Appledawn had recently moved into the nursery too, and he wondered how she was settling in. He was sure that with the weather warming, soon other queens would join her.

He picked his way past Mudpaw’s nest, but the brown tabby tom was already awake. He heard Mudpaw hiss behind him. “Look, the overgrown kit is waddling his way back to the nursery.”

Blackpaw stopped, his fur prickling. He knew that Mudpaw was purposefully baiting him now that neither of their mentors were around and many other warriors were busy getting ready for the day. The more mature thing to do, Blackpaw knew, was to ignore Mudpaw’s jibes entirely. But something inside him drove him to respond. “I’m not an overgrown kit.”

“True enough,” Mudpaw said, climbing out of his nest. “You’re not very grown at all.”

“Many WindClan cats are small,” Blackpaw replied, flattening his ears. One way or another, this had to end now. He was tired of Mudpaw’s voice in his ear telling him he wasn’t good enough to be a part of the Clan.

Mudpaw approached him, his voice lowering as he came closer. His gaze flickered down to Blackpaw’s kittypet collar and back up to his eyes. He sneered. “But you’re not really a WindClan cat, are you?”

Blood rushed in Blackpaw’s ears and his vision turned red. He launched himself at Mudpaw. The brown tabby let out a grunt of surprise as Blackpaw collided into him, claws gripping into Mudpaw’s shoulders. Mudpaw tried to twist away, but Blackpaw held on tight and rolled with him into the middle of the hollow.

Mudpaw’s greater size and strength allowed him to flip them over so that he was on top of Blackpaw, snarling. “Talltail isn’t even your true father. You’re a kittypet through and through!” He raised his forepaw, claws glinting in the morning sun, and struck a blow to Blackpaw’s face.

Blackpaw was writhing and hissing underneath the larger apprentice. He pummeled at Mudpaw’s belly with his hindlegs, his claws ripping into his flank. Mudpaw growled and latched onto Blackpaw’s collar. He tugged.

Suddenly, Blackpaw was not fighting with Mudpaw in the WindClan camp. He was a tiny kit in a snowy forest being pinned down by a monstrous apprentice. Tigerpaw’s teeth flashed in his mind’s eye and Blackpaw screeched with fury. He would not lose this fight. He could not lose this fight.

Instead of attempting to twist away, this time Blackpaw only turned just enough to sink his fangs into Mudpaw’s shoulder. Mudpaw flinched, and Blackpaw kicked out with one of his hindlegs. The collar tightened around his neck. Panic flashed in Blackpaw’s mind. He needed Mudpaw to let go of the collar before he could use it to choke him.

“Enough!”

The voice came through as though from a great distance. Blackpaw snarled and sliced a cut over Mudpaw’s eye. Mudpaw pulled at his collar harder. Snap! The pressure around his neck was gone.

Blackpaw didn’t stop to think. He slipped out of Mudpaw’s grasp and raised his hackles, hissing. He was about to leap at Mudpaw again, but gentle teeth tugged at the scruff of his neck.

“Enough, Blackpaw!” came Talltail’s voice.

The WindClan deputy let go of Blackpaw’s scruff, and slowly the red haze of fury lifted. Other WindClan cats had abandoned the middle of the clearing, watching their fight from the sidelines.

Heatherstar came between the two apprentices, her blue eyes fiery. “What is the meaning of this?”

Blackpaw met her gaze with icy blue eyes of his own. “I’m a WindClan cat.”

He looked past her to Mudpaw, daring him to disagree. The brown tabby apprentice’s tail was lashing and his amber eyes flashed. In his jaws, he held the remains of a purple kittypet collar.

Chapter Text

“I want both of you to come with me to my den.” Heatherstar flicked her tail. Blackpaw shot Mudpaw one last glare and stood to follow. Mudpaw met his gaze steadily. The WindClan leader noticed their pause and barked out, “Now!”

Mudpaw scrambled to his paws and dropped Blackpaw’s collar onto the ground. The two apprentices lagged behind Heatherstar, hearing their Clanmates whisper to one another about their possible punishments as they passed. Blackpaw risked a glance at Talltail. He feared seeing disappointment in his father’s face, but Talltail’s glowing amber eyes and downturned lips spoke only of sympathy and guilt.

Blackpaw flattened his ears with shame. He desperately wanted Talltail to come along with them. It was one of his privileges as Heatherstar’s deputy to have a say in her decisions of her Clan, including the methods in which apprentices were trained or disciplined. Never mind that one of the apprentices in this situation also happened to be Talltail’s kit. But Blackpaw also knew that Talltail’s presence might create even more resentment between him and Mudpaw.

Heatherstar made the decision for the both of them. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head to Talltail as he took a step to follow them, and he dipped his head and stayed behind. Blackpaw would have to advocate for himself. He steeled himself as they slipped into small cave just below the Tallrock where Heatherstar made her den.

The WindClan leader did not often sleep here, preferring the company of her Clanmates out under the stars. Her den bore witness to this. The nest looked untouched since the last bedding change, and Heatherstar’s scent was stale. She had not been inside her den in a few days at least.

Heatherstar settled on her nest and surveyed the two apprentices with blue eyes as piercing as a cloudless sky. “Would either of you like to explain to me why you were tearing each other’s fur off in the middle of camp?”

“Blackpaw started it!” Mudpaw burst out, his amber eyes flashing. He flicked his tail. “He lunged at me!”

“He provoked me!” Blackpaw was not going to let Mudpaw put the whole of the blame on him. Mudpaw had tormented him too many times. “He said I wasn’t really a WindClan cat.”

Heatherstar pricked her ears and turned to Mudpaw. “Is this true?”

The young brown tabby shrugged. “Sure. But what does it matter? He’s the one who attacked me!”

“Indeed.” Heatherstar’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, I did attack Mudpaw!” Blackpaw spat, defiant. “I’m sick of being called kittypet and being told I’m worthless. But no one else was going to put him in his place, so I thought I’d shut his mouth once and for all.” He snarled at Mudpaw, unsheathing the claws of his white forepaw. “I’m a WindClan cat, now and forever. And you just made sure of that, didn’t you?”

Mudpaw glanced at Blackpaw’s neck, no longer decorated by his purple collar, and pulled his whiskers and ears back.

“Enough of this,” Heatherstar snapped. “I will not have infighting in my Clan. For the next moon, neither of you will be allowed to leave camp without a warrior as a chaperone. Nor will you be allowed to go to the Gathering tomorrow.”

Blackpaw was unfazed. He was still a newer apprentice and nearly always went out of camp under the supervision of his mentor, but Mudpaw looked outraged. The brown tabby tom was probably used to a lot more freedom than Blackpaw.

“That’s not fair!” Mudpaw said. “I’m nearly a warrior!”

“And who decides that?” Heatherstar asked coldly, and Mudpaw fell into a stony silence. “I’m sure that Tornpaw will tell you all about tomorrow night’s Gathering when we return. In the meantime, I want you two to learn how to work together. Hunt for the elders, train with one another, and attend counseling sessions together with Barkface for the next quarter moon.”

“No way!” It was Blackpaw who protested this time. Getting taunted by Mudpaw in the morning and before sleeping for the night was bad enough. Now the WindClan leader wanted them to spend every waking moment together? One of them would kill the other before the second day was over. “You really expect me to start getting along with this bully?”

“I don’t care about whether or not you become friends,” Heatherstar said, her stern stare turning to the young black-furred apprentice. “I only want you to be civil with one another.”

“I’d be more than willing to be civil with him!” Blackpaw said. He jerked his head towards Mudpaw. “Why don’t you get him to stop mocking me for being a kittypet? I wouldn’t be attacking him then!”

“Believe it or not, violence is not going to solve your problems,” said Heatherstar. “Being a warrior is about working together with your Clanmates, whether you like them or not.” Her gaze shifted from Blackpaw to Mudpaw, and back again. “You both need to learn this. You know what I’m requiring of you. I’ll be speaking to your mentors when they return to camp. Now leave me.”

She flicked her tail in dismissal, and Mudpaw and Blackpaw slunk out of the leader’s den. Once they were out of Heatherstar’s earshot, Mudpaw grumbled, “This is all your fault.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Blackpaw asked.

“Well, I can’t now, can I?” Mudpaw said. “We’re stuck with each other for a quarter moon.”

They emerged from the shadow of the Tallrock, and immediately Talltail was bounding toward the two apprentices. Blackpaw shrunk behind Mudpaw. Talltail stared at them wordlessly for a moment. Blackpaw’s pelt prickled under his father’s intense amber gaze, until finally Talltail cleared his throat. “Mudpaw, could you leave me to speak to my kit alone?”

“Can’t.” Mudpaw sounded almost gleeful. “Heatherstar’s orders.”

Talltail narrowed his eyes at the brown tabby tom.  

Mudpaw held Talltail’s gaze for a heartbeat, then scoffed. “Fine. But then Blackpaw and I have to go hunting for the elders together.”

“Is that wise?” Talltail asked Blackpaw as Mudpaw withdrew, shooting the father and kit a final glare, and headed for Barkface’s den.

Blackpaw remembered the taste of Mudpaw’s blood and couldn’t help but feel proud that he’d given the older apprentice a good fight. The cut on his cheek that Mudpaw had given him stung, but it could wait to be treated.

“Doesn’t matter,” Blackpaw said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Heatherstar’s ordered us to spend the entire week together. Now what do you want?”

Talltail blinked at Blackpaw’s harsh tone, but did not rebuke him. “What happened this morning, Blackpaw? I told you to come to me if any cat was giving you a hard time.”

“And I told you that you can’t protect me from everything,” Blackpaw shot back. “What would I look like to Mudpaw or Shrewclaw if I ran to the Clan deputy over every kittypet taunt?”  

“Shrewclaw too?” Talltail’s voice got quiet. He shook his head as though to clear it. “Blackpaw, please. I hate to see you this way. I don’t want you to go through what I did.”

Moons ago, on the border of WindClan territory, Talltail had told a little kit that he had been an outsider in his own Clan, too. Blackpaw had never asked more about it, and Talltail’s allusions to his kithood and apprenticeship were vague and brief. He swallowed. “I don’t know what to do.”

Talltail bowed his head. He confessed softly, “Neither do I.”

“But you’re enough,” Blackpaw said. “Talltail. Your love is enough.”

.

Barkface and Mudpaw were waiting for him at the entrance of the cleric’s den. Mudpaw’s shoulder gleamed with the herb paste that Barkface had applied during Blackpaw’s absence—the cleric seemed to favor dock over marigold at the moment, and Blackpaw wondered if it was that dock was more effective, or simply if his marigold supplies were running low.

“Are you hurt?” Barkface asked as Blackpaw brushed past the other two cats.

“Mudpaw cut my cheek,” Blackpaw replied levelly.

Barkface let out a noncommittal hum and made his way to his supply of herbs. “Mudpaw here tells me Heatherstar requested that you two have joint counseling sessions with me. What do you think about that?”

“It’s complete fox-dung,” Mudpaw meowed, settling down next to Barkface’s herb store.

“Utter crow-food,” Blackpaw agreed heartily.

Barkface nodded sympathetically as he chewed some herbs into a poultice. He spat it out and licked his lips. “It could help the two of you settle your differences healthily.”

“What differences are there to settle?” Blackpaw asked as Barkface scooped a bit of the poultice off of the ground and began to apply it onto the young black apprentice’s cheek. “He hates me for being a kittypet. I can’t change that part about myself. Done.”

“I don’t hate you,” Mudpaw said.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Blackpaw scowled. “Don’t tell me it was gentle teasing. There was nothing gentle about it.”

Barkface paused to glance at his nephew. “Mudpaw?”

“This is stupid.” Mudpaw looked down at his dark brown forepaws. “Blackpaw’s right. The differences between the two of us can’t be settled.”

“Heatherstar wants you to try,” Barkface urged.

“I’ve had enough of talking about it for today,” Mudpaw said, irritated.

Blackpaw was inclined to agree. He still had to face Deadfoot, and that was the one conversation that he dreaded most. He feared that he had let his mentor down. Mudpaw must have been similarly worried—that this little bit of trouble had delayed his training and his full warrior status.

“Very well.” Barkface sighed. “We can continue this tomorrow.”

Mudpaw nodded and got up to his paws. He started to exit the den before glancing back at Blackpaw. “Are you coming?”

Blackpaw turned to Barkface to confirm that the cleric had finished up applying the poultice. At Barkface’s nod, he stood and followed Mudpaw out of the cleric’s den.

“What now?” Blackpaw asked.

Mudpaw shrugged. “We go hunting for the elders, I guess.”

Blackpaw glanced up at the sky. It was past sunhigh and Deadfoot must have returned to camp by now. Was he in Heatherstar’s den? Blackpaw rather thought that Deadfoot’s plans for an afternoon training session were ruined, but would his mentor be expecting him to be waiting for him to come out from his meeting with Heatherstar?

Mudpaw clearly didn’t have Blackpaw’s uncertainties. He was already making his way toward the gorse tunnel of the camp entrance.

“Wait!” Blackpaw said. “We need a warrior escort, remember?” He caught sight of Wrenflight, who was washing her ears in the warm newleaf sun, and called the brown-and-white molly over to them.

“Wrenflight?” Mudpaw muttered doubtfully. “She’s barely a warrior.”

“She’s got her name, hasn’t she?” Blackpaw hissed.

“Hey you two!” Wrenflight greeted as she approached, her tail lifted high in the air. “That was some fight! Most excitement we’ve seen in moons.”

Blackpaw flicked his ears self-consciously. “Yeah, well, Heatherstar says we can’t leave camp without a warrior for a moon.”

“Like a couple of kits,” Mudpaw spat.

Wrenflight’s blue eyes glimmered with sympathy. “I can be your chaperone. What are we doing?”

“Hunting for the elders,” Blackpaw said.

Mudpaw didn’t wait for Wrenflight to give her opinion on where they should go as he stood up to lead them through the gorse tunnel. “I want to go to the abandoned badger set.”

Blackpaw and Wrenflight shared a glance. The young molly shrugged and they both fell into step behind Mudpaw. He was grateful for Wrenflight’s easy companionship—she didn’t ask any prying questions about the fight and she didn’t try to mentor Mudpaw. No doubt that having to take orders from a warrior only few moons older than him would have set Mudpaw off again. Blackpaw however didn’t mind some extra direction from Wrenflight.

Before long, Blackpaw had managed to catch a thrush, catching it just as it launched itself into the air. Wrenflight purred with delight and even Mudpaw looked impressed. Wrenflight caught a rabbit almost effortlessly, and Mudpaw killed a crow. The three young cats returned to camp with pawsteps made lighter by the pride in their catch.

Deadfoot and Redclaw were waiting for them at the gorse tunnel. Blackpaw flattened his ears. He knew he should have waited for an okay from his mentor before leaving, but his anxiety over facing Deadfoot had won out. 

“Where were you?” Redclaw demanded.

“We wanted to talk to the two of you as soon as Heatherstar told us what happened,” Deadfoot added. He looked more worried than angry, and guilt clawed at Blackpaw all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Wrenflight stepped in, bowing her head to the older warriors. She dropped her rabbit and looked back up. “I took them out hunting for the elders. They seemed eager to get out of camp. If I had known that you were waiting for them, I wouldn’t have let them leave.”

“Let us?” Mudpaw spat the crow out onto the ground. “Let us? Who do you think you are?”

Redclaw shot his apprentice a hard look. “You’re in enough trouble as it is, Mudpaw. I suggest you hold your tongue.”

Mudpaw quieted down and picked his crow back up. Blackpaw waited for Deadfoot’s lecture like a mouse waiting for a hawk.

“I suppose they’ve already heard everything to be said about the fight,” Deadfoot ventured, and Blackpaw’s heart stuttered and relaxed. “But the next time our plans for training go awry, I would like it if you didn’t disappear on me.”

Blackpaw nodded.

“And because of your little fight, we’ll both be training you for the next few days,” Redclaw said. He flicked his tail. “Now go to the elders. They’ll appreciate the feast you’ve caught.”

Blackpaw looked to Deadfoot, who nodded, and followed Mudpaw and Wrenflight to the elders’ den. Whiteberry and Flailfoot didn’t even notice the size of the crow Mudpaw had caught. They were too busy gossiping over the fight. Blackpaw’s ears burned and he excused himself as quickly as he could.

Wrenflight nudged him and pointed to the prey-heap with her nose. “Do you want to share a rabbit?”

Blackpaw hesitated.

“Just because you’re in trouble doesn’t mean you go hungry!” Wrenflight purred. “I’ll be right back.”

It was nice sharing a meal with Wrenflight. Usually Blackpaw ate dinner with Plumclaw and her kits, or Talltail if he wasn’t on a dusk patrol, but Wrenflight was Talltail’s half-sister. In a way, Blackpaw regarded her as his kin as well.

“Thanks,” Blackpaw said.

Wrenflight licked her lips. “For what?”

Blackpaw shrugged. “Not prying, I guess.”

“Oh, it’s taking everything in me not to,” she assured him with eyes glittering like stars. “But, well— it’s still fresh right now. I figure you’ll share whenever you’re ready.”

After sharing tongues with Wrenflight, Blackpaw was ready for an early night. Mudpaw and Tornpaw were already curled up in their nests. As Blackpaw brushed past them to crawl into his nest, Mudpaw opened one eye and yawned.

“Those were pretty decent fighting moves,” Mudpaw said, laying his head back down and curling his tail over his nose. Blackpaw waited for the usual kittypet jibe, but it didn’t come. Instead, Mudpaw closed his eye and murmured, “For a cat with barely any training.”

Chapter Text

Barkface looked up from his herb store as Mudpaw and Blackpaw slogged into the cleric’s den. Blackpaw wasn’t particularly looking forward to spending even more time with the older apprentice after today’s training session, but these were Heatherstar’s orders. Mudpaw seemed even less thrilled at the prospect of the mandated counseling session with Barkface. Gone was the exhilaration of this morning’s hunting practice; the brown tabby apprentice’s face was tight with irritation.

Barkface took no note of their low spirits. His warm amber eyes brightened at the sight of the two apprentices, and for a moment Blackpaw allowed himself to be swept away in the affection of his gaze. How could he keep his sour mood around the second cat to welcome him to WindClan? Barkface had always been special to Blackpaw for that.

“Good afternoon,” Barkface greeted. “Back from training early?”

Blackpaw nodded. “Deadfoot and Redclaw sent us back so we could have our session with you before you left for the Gathering.”

“I see,” Barkface purred. “Shall we begin?”

Mudpaw shrugged. “Let’s get it over with.”

The cleric curled his tail neatly over his forepaws. “Would you like to start, then, Mudpaw?”

“I don’t even know what the point of this is,” Mudpaw bit out. “Why does Heatherstar want this from us? Does she think we can’t work things out on our own?”

“Considering you tore each other’s fur off in the middle of camp, I’d say she’s correct in that observation,” Barkface replied, amused. “Heatherstar is no fool, Mudpaw. Settling the tensions between the two of you with a mediator is possibly the best way to keep you both in line.”

Mudpaw growled and looked away.

The cleric sighed. “Do either of you have anything to say?”

Neither of the apprentices spoke. Barkface let the silence hang between the three of them for a moment. When it became clear that Blackpaw and Mudpaw were not going to discuss anything, let alone have any form of healthy conflict resolution, Barkface stood and brushed past the two.

“Where are you going?” Mudpaw asked, surly.

“I’m going to restock my supplies,” Barkface said. “I need coltsfoot. It’s a better use of my time than just hanging about waiting for you to speak up. The two of you are welcome to join me, of course. I might as well put you to work.”

Blackpaw scrambled up to his paws. During his early days in WindClan, Blackpaw had spent a significant amount of time in the cleric’s den. His fur prickled with embarrassment at recalling just how much he got in the way whenever Barkface was trying to attend sick or injured cats, but he could repay Barkface for indulging his curiosity now by helping him collect the herbs he needed.

Mudpaw hesitated before slowly getting to his paws. The brown tabby apprentice followed Blackpaw and Barkface out of the cleric den. It was just after sunhigh; most of the warriors that weren’t on patrol were eating fresh-kill or sharing tongues with their friends.

Appledawn was outside the nursery playing a game of moss-ball with Morningkit and Ashkit, her belly heavy with her unborn kits. Plumclaw had left the other queen with her kits to fetch something from the prey-heap for them all. As Blackpaw passed them, he felt wistfulness tear at his belly like a sharp thorn. Soon Morningkit and Ashkit would have new friends to play with, and he would be forgotten.

Blackpaw nodded to the kits in greeting. “I’ll see you two later, okay?”

“Are you going to the Gathering tonight?” Morningkit asked.

“You know I’m being punished,” Blackpaw replied, his ears hot. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ashkit and Morningkit about his fight with Mudpaw yesterday, but the news had spread quickly through camp.  

“You can ask Tornpaw about it tomorrow,” Mudpaw added, his voice not betraying any envy he might have been feeling for his brother. Blackpaw glanced back at the older apprentice, and Mudpaw met his gaze steadily, without challenge in his amber eyes.

Fur prickling, Blackpaw faced forward again.

Deadfoot and Talltail were sharing tongues by the discarded bones of their eaten prey. Blackpaw waved his tail at his father. When Talltail looked up, Blackpaw nodded to Barkface as though to let the Clan deputy know that he and Mudpaw were leaving the camp under the cleric’s supervision.

“You listen to Barkface, understand?” Deadfoot called out to his apprentice. “Do as he says.”

Blackpaw’s dark pelt burned, and it didn’t have anything to do with his fur absorbing the sun’s heat. Did his mentor really have such little faith in him after yesterday? He was trying to be a good apprentice to Deadfoot. “Yes, Deadfoot.”

“You too, Mudpaw,” Talltail said. He was gazing steadily at the brown tabby apprentice, and Blackpaw prayed that he wouldn’t insert himself in their little herb-gathering patrol.

Mudpaw dipped his head to the deputy, but said nothing in reply. Talltail settled back down, seemingly satisfied, and Blackpaw gave a light sigh of relief.

“I’ll keep them in line,” Barkface promised to Deadfoot and Talltail. “Come on, you two.”

The two apprentices followed Barkface into the gorse tunnel and out of the camp. Blackpaw looked around, squinting in the sun. “Where’s the best place to get coltsfoot, then?”

“And what does it look like?” Mudpaw asked.

Barkface pointed out westward with his muzzle. “Coltsfoot can be found all over WindClan territory, but I grow some near the Twoleg farm. The flowers look similar to dandelions, but what I really want are the leaves.”

“You grow the herbs?” Blackpaw’s blue eyes were wide with wonder.

“I want them to be here again next newleaf, don’t I?” Barkface began to lead the two apprentices through the hilly terrain. The grass and sweet-smelling heather swayed in the warm breeze. “Just as we thank StarClan for fresh-kill, we must thank StarClan for healing herbs, and give back when we can.”

As they grew closer to the Twoleg farm, he veered to the south. Blackpaw still wasn’t very familiar with this part of the territory. Deadfoot mostly kept their training sessions near Outlook Rock or the abandoned badger set. Not too far away, Blackpaw heard the steady flow of the river. They were upstream of the falls, far from their border with RiverClan, but Blackpaw noticed the vegetation change slowly from the patches of rosemary and lavender to plants that grew better with more water around.

“Why don’t we hunt here more?” Blackpaw blurted excitedly. He could see rabbits darting through the grass, and hear the contented birdsong from doves and thrushes.

“It’s prey-rich here,” Barkface agreed, making his way to a clump of blooming yellow flowers. That must be the coltsfoot. “But it’s a little too close to Twolegs for comfort.”

Blackpaw flicked his tail dismissively. With a wayward glance at Mudpaw, he boasted, “I’m not scared of Twolegs!”

Mudpaw rolled his eyes. “Should be scared of their dogs, though.”

Blackpaw stared at the brown tabby tom. Had Mudpaw really let the opportunity to taunt him about his kittypet roots pass him by so easily? Fur prickling, the younger apprentice went to stand by Barkface and began digging at the roots of the flowers.

“No!” Barkface swatted his paws away. “Just collect the leaves and stems! If we dig up the roots, it won’t grow back.”

“Right.” Blackpaw flattened his ears.

But the transgression had already been forgotten. As Blackpaw tore out the stems of the coltsfoot, Barkface purred, “One can tell that you were raised by tunnellers. You always want to get your paws dirty!”

Blackpaw spat out the coltsfoot onto the ground. “Talltail wasn’t a tunneller.”

“Both his parents were,” Barkface put in. “He didn’t want to be a tunneller, but he had respect for the position.”

Mudpaw ripped some coltsfoot out and gave an irritated lash of his tail. “Why are you always asking about tunnelling? It’s been banned for seasons now.”

“Plumclaw liked being a tunneller,” Blackpaw replied simply. “And I suppose I just don’t see why it was outlawed. What an advantage it must have been!”

“The two of you have no idea how high the tensions were within the Clan in those days. Tunnellers and moor-runners were constantly getting into arguments.” Barkface shook his head disapprovingly, as though he were recalling some such fight. “The tunnellers felt constantly disrespected and trivialized. The moor-runners felt superior. The tunnel collapse that led to Sandgorse’s death was what finally made Heatherstar come to the decision to ban tunnelling. It was dangerous, and caused much conflict within the Clan besides.”

“No wonder the tunnellers felt trivialized!” Blackpaw meowed. “Heatherstar banned it at the first opportunity she saw!”

“Well, it’s done now.” Mudpaw shrugged. “Is it really worth keeping something around if it causes so much trouble?”

“It doesn’t have to cause trouble if cats won’t let it,” Blackpaw said. He looked at Mudpaw, unsure of whether or not they were still talking about tunnelling. The small black cat swallowed and took a tentative step towards the other apprentice. “Would you let it?”

Mudpaw sighed. “Not anymore.”

Barkface’s whiskers twitched. His clever amber eyes had not missed a thing. “I think this is enough coltsfoot. Let’s head home.”

.

“Say goodbye, kittypet!”

Blackpaw jerked awake with a whimper. All that was left of his dream were the memory of dripping white fangs and the echo of Tigerpaw’s menacing words brushing against his ear fur. He lashed his tail and clawed at his bedding as he slowly regained awareness of his surroundings.

His gaze moved, taking in the slumbering WindClan camp. The full moon was low in the sky, being chased away by the pale gray of the pre-dawn light. The Gathering party had returned to camp hours ago; Tornpaw was curled up beside Mudpaw in his nest, and he could see the steady rise and fall of Talltail’s flank. Heatherstar, Stagleap, Ryestalk, Rabbitstep, and Aspenfall were deep in dreams as well.

The sight of Blackpaw’s sleeping Clanmates helped to calm him. If Heatherstar hadn’t called for a Clan meeting after last night’s Gathering, then things were still peaceful between the other three Clans. His nightmare was just that: a nightmare. Was it really so far-fetched that he would dream of his fight with Tigerpaw so soon after his scrap with Mudpaw?

Woollytail ducked back inside the camp from the dirt-place. The senior warrior was the only other cat awake, and he quickly noticed Blackpaw’s bristling fur. Consciously the apprentice flattened the hairs on his back and stepped out of his nest. His clawing had torn it nearly to shreds.

“Are you all right, Blackpaw?” Woollytail asked, his voice soft as though not to disturb any other cat.

Blackpaw nodded and whispered in reply, “Just a bad dream.”

Woollytail blinked. His blue eyes were warm with understanding. “Do you want to come hunting with me? We can get some moss to fix your nest, too.”

Blackpaw glanced over at Deadfoot’s nest. His mentor was still sleeping, and he had not mentioned his plans for training today, either. He would be glad to be away from Mudpaw for a while too. They hadn’t openly antagonized each other during their training session yesterday, but Blackpaw was sure that their truce was volatile. Hesitantly he nodded. Woollytail was a respected senior warrior. Even Heatherstar would not rebuke him for taking out an apprentice serving a punishment.

“Come on then, kit.” Woollytail nodded toward the gorse tunnel.

Once they were out of camp, Blackpaw felt free to speak more loudly. “How was the Gathering?”

Woollytail shrugged. “Fairly peaceful. Heatherstar mentioned your apprenticeship.”

“She did?” A spark of pride lit up within him, and he felt his step grow lighter. Then his expression soured. “Do they know I was a kittypet?”

“I suppose Tornpaw might have mentioned it to some apprentices in the other Clans,” said Woollytail thoughtfully, “but all Heatherstar said was that Talltail’s kit had become an apprentice at last.” His whiskers twitched and he gave Blackpaw a playful nudge with his shoulder. Blackpaw stumbled under the strength of the warrior’s prod, but he quickly regained his footing. “But that he was a bit of a troublemaker, so he had to sit this Gathering out!”

Blackpaw purred and curled his tail with delight. “There’ll be other Gatherings.”

“Indeed,” Woollytail agreed. He was quiet for a moment. It was still early enough in newleaf that the morning air pierced through Blackpaw’s lungs, cold and fresh. Woollytail shivered visibly; despite his name, he shared the same short fur that most WindClan cats possessed. “It was never so cold in the tunnels.”

“Plumclaw misses it,” Blackpaw said.

“All the former tunnellers do,” Woollytail replied. His voice was flat. “But it was for the best.”

“You really think so?” Blackpaw wondered. He didn’t talk with the other former tunnellers much. Perhaps the dark gray queen was stubbornly clinging to an outdated tradition. “Plumclaw said WindClan never went hungry in leaf-bare with the tunnels. The way she talks about it sometimes makes me wish I could have been a tunneller.”

Woollytail didn’t answer. He seemed to have decided something. “I’m going to show you something.”

He did not stop to wait for Blackpaw to gather his wits before he streaked past Outlook Rock. Blackpaw sped after him, pushing himself to his limits in order to keep up. Deadfoot had already begun to work with Blackpaw on his running, but this kind of distance at such a speed required more endurance than he had worked up in the past half-moon since he started his training.

“Wait!” Blackpaw puffed out from several fox-lengths behind Woollytail. The gray-and-white tom had started to slow down by now, sniffing at a break in the growing grass. Blackpaw finally reached him, blood hot in his veins. His chest heaved in an effort to catch his breath. “I thought we were going hunting.”

“We are.” Woollytail dug into the soil to reveal a hole that looked like the entrance to a rabbit’s burrow. His knowing blue gaze held Blackpaw’s inquisitive stare for a heartbeat. Then the former tunneller disappeared into the rabbit hole.

Chapter Text

Blackpaw scrambled to follow Woollytail into the dark burrow. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that it wasn’t a burrow at all, but a tunnel that stretched and curved far ahead of them. His whiskers brushed against the cold earth. What could Woollytail possibly have meant by it not being cold in the tunnels? It was certainly sheltered from the wind, but the earth around him seemed to slowly sap all of the heat away from his body.

“W-Woollytail,” he began, stifling a shiver. “I thought the tunnels had been closed.”

“We didn’t have the heart to do it,” Woollytail replied, his voice low. Blackpaw could feel the senior warrior’s tail tip brush against his nose. He was grateful for that small amount of guidance, because the sunlight slowly faded to blackness as the two cats padded deeper into the tunnel. “We closed off the entrances, but the tunnels are still here.”

“I can’t see a thing,” Blackpaw breathed, caught between fear and exhilaration. He had never known darkness like this.

“StarClan gave us whiskers and a nose for a reason,” Woollytail mewed wryly. “Keep close to me, and be quiet. The warm weather may have loosened some of the soil, and we don’t need to be caught in a cave-in.”

Alarmed, Blackpaw whipped his head from side to side before realizing that he would have no idea how to feel for loosening soil. “Is it safe here?”

Woollytail sniffed and pushed at the ceiling of the tunnel lightly with his muzzle. “It should hold. Now what have the other warriors told you about hunting in the tunnels?”

“All Redclaw and Cloudrunner said was that tunnellers would flush out rabbits from their warrens,” Blackpaw replied, “which allowed the moor-runners to finish the kill aboveground.”

“Moor-runners would also chase the rabbits into their burrows, where the tunnellers would be waiting.” Woollytail sounded amused. “But we’re perfectly capable of hunting down here as well. It’s merely a different skill set. I know Deadfoot is training you to keep watch on Outlook Rock. But we cannot rely on our vision in this dark. So what should we rely on?”

“Our sense of smell,” Blackpaw said. “And our hearing.”

“Yes,” Woollytail said, his voice intense. “These are no strangers to a hunter aboveground, but in the tunnels, they become infinitely more important. So tell me what you can scent.”

Blackpaw opened his mouth to let the scents flood his senses. Without the wind to carry any scents from farther out, the still air of the tunnels smelled mostly of soil and sand. Faintly he could detect rabbit, but there was another, fresher scent that he was unfamiliar with, which was overlaid with the musty smell of worms. “What’s that scent?”

Woollytail paused. “Mole. Well scented, Blackpaw. Let’s follow the scent trail. Go ahead of me.”

“But I don’t know where I’m going!” Blackpaw whispered. “What if I get lost? What if there’s a collapse?”

“I will be right behind you,” Woollytail promised. “If something happens, I’ll tell you how to get to the closest exit.”

Paws tingling with fear and excitement, Blackpaw squeezed past Woollytail to track the mole.

“Your sense of touch is important too,” Woollytail reminded him. “Your whiskers and paws will help you feel how the tunnels slope up or down, or when they curve ahead.”

Blackpaw let out a grunt of acknowledgement and padded softly forward, keeping his ears pricked for the sound of a small animal scuttling about. The scent of the mole grew stronger, and Blackpaw found himself holding his breath so that it wouldn’t give him away. He knew that moles were blind. Their hearing would be much better than his own.

He was relieved that he could feel Woollytail’s presence behind him. The warrior was a few paces back so that their combined pawsteps would not alert their prey, but he was not so far away that Blackpaw felt abandoned and alone in the tunnels.

A faint squeak of alarm rose from underneath Blackpaw, and a small furry body brushed against his foreleg. Blackpaw’s fur fluffed out, his tail curving and lashing. He had walked right up and over the mole without noticing! Frantically Blackpaw swiped out, batting the mole back closer to him. The mole’s furious shriek cut off abruptly; the hit had dazed it.

Blackpaw lunged forward and brought his entire body weight onto the mole. He heard a crunch of bone and knew he had killed it.

“Did you catch it?” came Woollytail’s soft voice.

“I caught it,” Blackpaw affirmed, pulling his ears back with disappointment. He would have liked a much cleaner kill. “But if it hadn’t squealed like that, I’d have completely missed it.”

“You aren’t used to hunting this way,” Woollytail soothed. “You did well for your first try. Now let’s go before your mentor starts to miss you.”

Blackpaw picked up the plump body of the mole and let Woollytail pass him so that he could lead the way out of the tunnels. Part of him felt regretful that they were leaving the tunnel so soon, but Blackpaw knew that they could not risk being down here for very long. The Clan would soon be awake, and he was still meant to be training with Mudpaw.

“There’s a fork in the tunnel up ahead,” said Woollytail. “Keep to the right of it."

Blackpaw felt the tunnel break off into two directions. "Where does the other one let out?"

"ThunderClan territory." Woollytail's reply was nonchalant, but Blackpaw held his breath. WindClan had tunneled under enemy territory? "Can you smell the fresh air?”

He could. The tunnel brightened ahead of them as well, outlining Woollytail’s ears. Sunlight! Blackpaw could see the tunnel walls and felt surprise at how well they looked. He had half-expected the tunnels to be in a dilapidated state, crumbling and on the verge of collapse. The clean, structured walls appeared to be in good condition. He asked around the mole in his mouth, “Do you go down the tunnels often?”

“A few times a moon for maintenance,” Woollytail said in reply. “Plumclaw used to help me until she moved to the nursery. So did Palebird, before—” His voice wavered, and he did not finish.

Blackpaw knew that Palebird had been Talltail’s mother, and Woollytail had become her mate shortly after the death of Talltail’s father Sandgorse. He had never been able to meet her. Palebird had joined StarClan last leaf-fall, before Blackpaw had even been born. Woollytail must have loved her very much, for he was still grieved about her death moons later.

But Woollytail and Plumclaw were not the only former tunnellers left in WindClan; it was strange that only two of them had secretly kept this up despite Heatherstar’s orders. “What about Mistmouse and Hickorynose?”

Tension crackled through the musty air of the underground. The senior warrior’s tail tip flicked Blackpaw on his nose, and the apprentice forced himself to hold back a sneeze. Woollytail seemed angered by the question, but Blackpaw somehow felt that it wasn’t directed towards him. Finally, Woollytail hissed, “No. They didn’t want any part of it.”

“I could help you,” Blackpaw ventured. “If you taught me.”

Woollytail stopped in front of him. There was only just enough space for the tom to turn around. Blackpaw still couldn’t see much aside from the vague outline of the other cat in front of him, but he could feel Woollytail’s breath flutter against his whiskers. Blackpaw dropped the mole, startled.

 “It’s one thing to show you how to use the tunnels to hunt,” Woollytail growled. “It’s a very different thing to show you how to keep the tunnels structurally sound. You aren’t my apprentice, and tunnelling is forbidden now under Heatherstar’s law.”

“Heatherstar won’t be leader forever.” Blackpaw raised his head, as though to meet Woollytail’s gaze with glittering eyes. “Perhaps once Talltail becomes leader, he’ll reinstate tunnelling.”

 “I doubt it.” Woollytail sighed. “It’s easier to get rid of something than it is to bring it back.”

They fell back into silence as Blackpaw picked up the mole again and followed Woollytail to the exit of the tunnel. Blackpaw blinked, unused to the sunlight after having been in the dark for so long. After a few moments, he recognized the landscape around him; the tunnel had let out past the abandoned badger set.

Blackpaw turned back to Woollytail and barely managed to keep a shocked yelp as he caught the state of the senior warrior’s pelt—it was covered in dirt and dust. Blackpaw’s own pelt was more brown than black, and his single white paw was smeared with mud. Dismay rose in him. He couldn’t go back to camp looking like this! Heatherstar and Talltail would definitely know what he and Woollytail had been up to.

“Don’t worry,” Woollytail said. “We’ll wash in the river. The sun will dry our fur before we even reach camp. And we still need to get moss for your nest.”

.

Woollytail had been right. By the time the two of them returned to camp carrying the mole and the moss they’d collected from the riverbank, Blackpaw’s pelt had dried completely. It was just past midmorning now, and most of the camp was awake. Meadowslip, Bristlefeather, Pigeonflight, and Doespring were ready to leave on a hunting patrol. Meadowslip nodded as Blackpaw passed, as though to approve that he had been out hunting for the Clan.

That wasn’t all that he had been doing, but Blackpaw could never confess it to any cat. Except maybe… Blackpaw’s gaze slid toward the nursery. He remembered what Woollytail had said in the tunnels. Plumclaw was a part of this too. Blackpaw began to turn away from the nursery to deposit his catch onto the prey-heap, but Woollytail shook his head.

“Take that to Plumclaw,” the gray-and-white warrior said. “And after that go find Deadfoot. I’ll take care of your nest. There should be enough moss here for some of the elders, too.”

Blackpaw blinked with gratitude to the senior warrior. He would not soon forget the privilege of being the first cat shown into the tunnels in seasons, and Blackpaw was determined to show that he could be trusted to keep Woollytail’s secret. That he could be shown even more in the future.

Woollytail left him to walk to the edge of the camp where the apprentices made their nests. Feeling another flash of gratitude that the senior warrior was humble enough to do an apprentice task, Blackpaw started padding towards the nursery.

“Blackpaw!” He heard his father’s voice call out, and Blackpaw turned to see Talltail trotting up to him. Talltail’s amber eyes were bright with excitement, his long tail raised so high that it could touch the clouds. He didn’t question where Blackpaw had been. Clearly he had seen the young apprentice enter the camp with Woollytail. “How would you like to join me later on the evening patrol?”

“Really?” Blackpaw let the mole fall out of his mouth. He had been on few border patrols, and hadn’t gone out as an apprentice with his father yet. Suddenly he was anxious. Talltail was not only his father, but the Clan deputy. Had Blackpaw progressed well enough in his training? What if he messed up?

Talltail purred and licked Blackpaw’s ear comfortingly, as though he knew the thoughts running through his kit’s mind. “You’ll do well. I can see you’re a capable hunter already.” He nodded to the mole at Blackpaw’s feet, his eyes gleaming. “A mole, huh?”

Blackpaw forced himself not to tense up. Talltail didn’t know where he’d been. He muttered something about seeing the mole push out of the ground, then shook his head and said louder, “It was a lucky catch.”

“You have good instincts,” Talltail assured him. “I saw your fight with Mudpaw, don’t forget. You fought well, even if it was foolish to attack a Clanmate.”

Blackpaw flicked an ear. Was the fight with Mudpaw going to follow him for the rest of his days? He knew he was still being punished for it, but surely the Clan had found better things to talk about by now. The Gathering had been last night, for StarClan’s sake! Besides, Blackpaw could scarcely remember the fight itself; it had all happened so quickly. Whenever he tried to recall it, Blackpaw could only picture Tigerpaw’s jaws hovering over him. Not Mudpaw at all. “He pinned me.”

“But you knew how to get away,” Talltail pointed out. “Are you getting on with Mudpaw better now? He’s coming with us on the patrol.”

“I think so,” Blackpaw said with a frown. “He isn’t mocking me anymore. But it’s only been a couple days.”

Talltail let out a noncommittal hum. “Barkface told me that he thinks you and Mudpaw are progressing well.”

“I thought our sessions with Barkface were supposed to be confidential!” Blackpaw said, a spark of betrayal flickering inside his chest.

“He didn’t tell me what the three of you talked about,” Talltail said calmly. “But he seems encouraged by last night’s session. It’s part of the reason I want the two of you to join this evening’s patrol with me.”

Blackpaw’s ears pricked and he gave Talltail an inquiring glance. “Oh?”

“I need Heatherstar to let you and Mudpaw train separately again,” Talltail confessed, as though Blackpaw were a cat of similar status in the Clan, and not a mere apprentice. “It’s only been a couple of days but it is so difficult to keep the two of you together for hunting patrols and training sessions all the time. There are so few apprentices in the Clan right now.”

“When I was still living in the nursery, only Mudpaw and Tornpaw were apprentices,” Blackpaw observed. “You managed then.”

“When Mudpaw and Tornpaw were new apprentices, they didn’t get into nearly as much trouble as you,” Talltail teased lightly.

Behind him, the gorse of the nursery rustled, but he ignored it. Blackpaw narrowed his eyes and dropped into a playful crouch. “Are you saying I’m a bad influence?”

“Oh, Talltail would never say such a thing about you, Blackpaw,” came Plumclaw’s familiar, affectionate mew.

Blackpaw glanced back to see the dark gray queen sweeping Morningkit and Ashkit out of the nursery, obviously having scented the fresh-kill nearby the entrance and wondering what the delay was. Talltail took advantage of Blackpaw’s momentary distraction and leapt at him, bowling the much smaller cat over.

“Hey!” Blackpaw squawked, flailing his hindlegs in an attempt to squeeze out from under his father. “I wasn’t ready!”

He could hear Plumclaw purring and the kits squealing with delight. Morningkit and Ashkit joyfully threw themselves at Talltail, pretending that they were protecting the nursery from a rogue attack. Ashkit landed on Talltail’s back, while Morningkit darted toward the deputy’s long legs in an attempt to unbalance him.

“Leave Blackpaw alone!” Ashkit laughed, pummeling at Talltail’s back with her hindlegs.

Talltail reared back to shake Ashkit off of his back. Blackpaw rolled out from under him, kicking at Talltail’s hindleg. His father toppled over, and the two kits jumped on top of the black-and-white tom. Blackpaw leapt to join the wrestling cats, landing squarely on Talltail’s shoulders. He gave his father a light nip to his neck.

“You’ve killed me!” Talltail stayed still, pinned underneath the three youngsters. He was purring loudly. “Three against one isn’t a very fair fight.”

“You took me by surprise,” Blackpaw said, getting off of his father. He felt flushed with glee. He’d missed playing like this with his friends.

“You must always be ready,” Talltail meowed, whiskers twitching with amusement.

“What in StarClan’s name is going on out here?” Appledawn’s face appeared from behind the nursery entrance, her eyes narrowed in the sunlight. “Don’t you know that some cats are trying to sleep?”

“But it’s been morning for ages!” Morningkit mewed, her eyes flashing. “We want to play!”

Plumclaw murmured something in her daughter’s ear. Morningkit’s glare softened and she muttered a half-hearted apology to the cream-colored molly.

“I’m sorry, Appledawn,” Blackpaw said. He dipped his head to the mole he’d brought with him, now covered with dust that had been kicked up by their play-fight. “I was bringing the fresh-kill I caught to the nursery, but I got a bit sidetracked.”

Appledawn’s gaze flickered down to the dusty mole and her lip curled. “I already ate my breakfast, thank you.”

“Appledawn,” Talltail bit out, standing up and taking a pace forward as though to block Blackpaw from the cream-furred queen’s harsh tone. Blackpaw lashed his tail with frustration. He wasn’t a kit anymore!

Appledawn schooled her expression into something approaching neutrality. She did not apologize when she addressed Blackpaw. “Apprentices should have more respect for the fresh-kill they bring to the queens and elders.”

She turned and disappeared back into nursery. Blackpaw huffed, trying not to feel offended. That mole hadn’t been for Appledawn anyway!

“That was my fault.” Talltail turned his worried eyes back to the small apprentice. “Are you all right?”

Blackpaw rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.” He brushed away the worst of the dust from the mole and pushed it towards Plumclaw. “Have you eaten?”

“You caught it?” Plumclaw asked, her amber eyes boring into him.

“I went out hunting with Woollytail before dawn,” he replied, his black fur prickling. “I—I didn’t sleep well last night.”

The two kits tumbled over each other to take a look at the unfamiliar prey. Ashkit sniffed at the mole’s fur. “What is it?”

Plumclaw's scrutinizing gaze turned away from Blackpaw. She explained to her kits that it was a mole and that they were rarely caught aboveground, but Talltail looked more concerned with Blackpaw. He pressed his pelt against his child’s comfortingly and asked, “The Gathering party kept you up?”

Blackpaw shrugged. He didn’t want to discuss his nightmare. He didn’t know why it should impact him so much, over three moons later. He had other, more immediate pressures in WindClan to deal with. But he couldn’t forget the way that Tigerpaw had gone in for the kill.

Chapter Text

Blackpaw narrowed his eyes against the blasting wind as he tried to keep pace with the evening patrol. He didn’t make up the back of the patrol; this time, he stuck beside Talltail and Deadfoot at the front, their pelts brushing as they headed towards the gorge. He looked over his shoulder to see Mudpaw at the rear of the patrol with his mother Ryestalk, their eyes slitted but their ears and posture alert.

Deadfoot glanced at Talltail with glimmering green eyes and gave an exaggerated shiver. “I hope this is the last cold wind of the season!”

Blackpaw twitched his whiskers. Deadfoot was always so serious around Redclaw and Cloudrunner, as though to prove himself to the more experienced mentors, and it was nice to see his easygoing nature return in Talltail’s presence.

The deputy gave a murmur of agreement, his ears turned towards the border with RiverClan. “Leaf-bare certainly doesn’t want to lose its grip.”

Blackpaw chirped, “This wind could blow me away!”

Mudpaw snorted behind him and asked wryly, “Do you think that it could carry you over to the other side of the gorge if you jumped?”

Blackpaw turned around and opened his mouth to retort, but paused as he found the other apprentice’s amber eyes gleam with amusement. Mudpaw was inviting him to go along with the joke. Blackpaw puffed up his chest proudly and took a small step towards the gorge. “I bet it could!”

The grass here was slippery with the mist rising from the tumbling water, but he kept a grip on the ground and didn’t peer over the edge. If he looked right across the gorge, the two sides weren’t such a vast distance from each other. Blackpaw probably could make the jump across if he could put the long drop into the river out of his mind.  

Ryestalk pounced in front of Blackpaw, blocking him from the edge, her gray tabby fur on end. “We’re not going to let you find out!” She looked from Blackpaw to Mudpaw, her blue eyes furious. “Haven’t your mentors told you how dangerous the gorge is?”

“Of course he did!” Blackpaw took offense to Ryestalk questioning his mentor. He straightened up, almost touching his nose with hers, and flattened his ears. “I wasn’t actually going to jump the gorge!”

“It was just a joke,” Mudpaw added from behind him, his voice clear and honest.

“You were goading him on,” Ryestalk accused her son, lashing her tail. “Haven’t you gotten into enough trouble with the kittypet as it is?”

“Kittypet?” Blackpaw echoed, his voice choked with sudden fury. Just how many cats secretly despised him?

He heard Talltail growl from behind him, but before either of them could think of a reply to Ryestalk, Deadfoot stepped up and pushed Blackpaw away from the gray tabby warrior with his muzzle. His black fur was flat as he turned to meet Ryestalk’s gaze with calm green eyes. “Ryestalk, we’re on this patrol to see how Mudpaw and Blackpaw are getting along. I’m glad that they’re able to joke around with one another. They don’t need you stirring up conflict between them!”

Ryestalk flicked her ears with annoyance. She clearly didn’t like being chastised by the younger warrior. “The gorge is no laughing matter.”

“I trust my apprentice,” Deadfoot said with a proud look at Blackpaw. “He has more sense than to jump across the gorge with three warriors watching.”

“When did I say that I don’t trust my son?” Ryestalk spat.

Blackpaw heard Mudpaw mutter something from beside him, but Deadfoot merely looked taken aback. “I never—”

“Enough,” Talltail snapped. “We shouldn’t be arguing amongst ourselves so close to our border with RiverClan. Deadfoot, take the apprentices and mark the border. I would like to have a word with Ryestalk privately.”

Ryestalk lashed her tail but said nothing. Deadfoot looked uncertainly at Talltail and then dipped his head to the deputy. He stood and glanced at the two apprentices, jerking his head towards the border. Mudpaw and Blackpaw reluctantly followed Deadfoot through the heather fronds, leaving Ryestalk and Talltail behind.

Blackpaw felt a strange mixture of anger and guilt, but he kept quiet about it. Deadfoot was right; it wouldn’t do to stir up even more trouble with Mudpaw. Ryestalk was clearly bitter about her son’s punishment, and Blackpaw was already uncomfortable with Talltail leaping in to defend him all the time.  

Deadfoot was making a concentrated effort to put the disagreement out of their minds by testing them. He asked what landmarks they used for the scent markings, and Mudpaw and Blackpaw answered absently. Deadfoot sighed and sent them to mark their scents on the border, staying behind with watchful green eyes and pricked ears.

Mudpaw’s pace matched Blackpaw’s as they stepped purposefully towards the border. The older apprentice was quiet for a moment as he marked a large boulder. Then he meowed softly, “Talltail really loves you, you know.”

“Yeah,” Blackpaw said, his ears getting hot. Was Mudpaw going to call Talltail out on his favoritism like Ryestalk had? He tore out a clump of grass with his claws anxiously. “I know.”

“He thinks you can do no wrong.” Mudpaw looked at Blackpaw with glowing amber eyes. With an abrupt blaze of anger, he snapped, “And he’s not even your father.”

“Oh, but he is,” murmured Blackpaw, understanding flooding over him. Mudpaw had said something similar during their fight. The brown tabby’s grudge against Blackpaw had never truly been about his kittypet roots. “In all the ways that matter.”

Mudpaw gave him a tight nod. “I guess so.”

“Ryestalk loves you,” Blackpaw said, his pelt prickling with discomfort. “She just doesn’t want you getting into trouble.”

“Yeah, but you’re the trouble,” Mudpaw said. “She’d rather I stay away from you altogether than get along with you.”

“Oh. I see.”

Blackpaw fell quiet as he padded to one of the scattered trees near their border with RiverClan and marked his scent on it. RiverClan kept their own scent markers fresh, but as far as Blackpaw could tell, they hadn’t trespassed. There was also the scent of ThunderClan on the wind, but RiverClan held only a thin strip of land between WindClan and ThunderClan; it was entirely possible that the strong winds of newleaf had carried the scent over the borders.

As he turned back to Mudpaw, he saw Deadfoot stalking quickly towards them, his ears low. Talltail and Ryestalk had caught up, and were trailing behind the younger warrior. Their eyes were serious and focused, without any hint of the argument between them.

Blackpaw was startled at the sight of the three warriors’ grave mood. Could there be a ThunderClan patrol on their territory after all? Blackpaw flexed his claws at the thought of meeting Tigerpaw in battle again. He wouldn’t run off like a scared kit this time. The young apprentice raised his head to taste the air.

Instead of the musty scents of ThunderClan, the heavy stench of fox hit Blackpaw’s nose, nearly choking him. How could he and Mudpaw have missed it? The scent was about a day old, but the trail led directly into WindClan territory, not outside of their borders.

“Stay close to us now,” Deadfoot said as he reached the two apprentices. Blackpaw and Mudpaw followed the black-furred warrior as he doubled back toward Talltail and Ryestalk. “The scent isn’t fresh, but the fox could be nearby.”

“Could we take the fox if we found it?” Ryestalk asked. She glanced at Mudpaw, who looked angrily away from his mother.

“Blackpaw doesn’t have much battle training,” Deadfoot meowed, worry creeping into his voice. “I thought it best not to encourage him and Mudpaw after their fight…”

Blackpaw scowled at his mentor, betrayal blooming in his chest. “So much for trusting me!”

“This is different,” Deadfoot tried to assure him. “I just didn’t want the two of you to get carried away.”

“Let’s not get our tails in a twist,” Talltail said, looking between mentor and apprentice. “We won’t be tracking the fox tonight. It’s not safe now that it’s getting dark, and Deadfoot is right. Even if Blackpaw had been doing battle training for these past few days, he wouldn’t have had enough experience.”

Mudpaw sucked in a breath, as though getting ready to speak, but Talltail shot him a quelling look. “I know you could help drive away the fox, Mudpaw. But this isn’t the way. I would send you or Tornpaw, but I don’t want an untrained apprentice on a fox-hunting patrol. We’ll report the fox scent to Heatherstar.” His expression hardened as he met Deadfoot’s gaze. “Take Blackpaw out for battle practice tomorrow. All of our apprentices need to be able to defend themselves from any threats we might come across.”

Deadfoot nodded. “I will, Talltail.”

“I can hold my own in a fight!” Blackpaw protested. Hadn’t Talltail said that very thing earlier today outside of the nursery?

“Yes, you can,” Talltail agreed, softening. “In a fight with another cat. A fox would kill you as soon as look at you.”  

“I know you want to prove yourself to the Clan,” Deadfoot added, swiping his tail along Blackpaw’s back, smoothing down the fur bristling with frustration. “But this has to wait.” He turned to Talltail. “Should we go back to camp now?”

“Are there any other signs of trouble around here?” Talltail asked.

Mudpaw shrugged. “RiverClan hasn’t crossed our boundaries.”

“I scented ThunderClan,” Blackpaw admitted.

“I’ll tell the dawn patrol to investigate it further,” Talltail said. “But the scent might just have been carried over by the wind. I’m not worried about ThunderClan. Let’s head on home.”  

.

Heatherstar called a Clan meeting as soon as they returned from patrol with the news of the fox scent. She stood on the Tallrock as the Clan gathered below, her lilac gray fur shining in the light of the waning gibbous moon. Talltail took his usual place beside the Tallrock, his long tail curled neatly over his forepaws as he looked out to the rest of the Clan.

Blackpaw ducked away from Talltail’s gaze and sat down between Barkface and Dawnstripe, keeping his distance from Deadfoot. He understood their reasoning, but Blackpaw couldn’t deny that he was still frustrated by his mentor and his father’s refusal to take him to help drive the fox away. He wanted to prove himself to the Clan. What better way than to fight a fox?

Wrenflight and Sorrelshine came to sit with them, and Blackpaw took solace in the fact that some of his Clanmates would never think lesser of him for having been born a kittypet.

“Clanmates,” Heatherstar announced, “Talltail’s patrol caught the scent of a fox near our border with RiverClan. Until the fox is driven away from our territory, I do not want any cat to hunt alone in that area.”

“Will you be sending a patrol to drive it away?” Plumclaw called out, curling her tail protectively around Morningkit and Ashkit at her side. The kits didn’t look nearly as concerned as their mother, chattering with excitement at the prospect of fighting a fox.

Appledawn tried to hush the kits. “Our leader is telling us important news.”

Heatherstar shook her head in answer to Plumclaw’s question. “Not at the moment. The patrol was not able to track it.”

At this, Shrewclaw got to his paws from where he was sitting beside Aspenfall and Ryestalk. His amber eyes flashed dangerously as he snarled his disapproval at Talltail. “Unable to track it? Or did Talltail not even want to take the risk, with the kittypet on the patrol?”

“Blackpaw is inexperienced,” the deputy shot back, the fur on the back of his neck rising.

“Weak, you mean,” Shrewclaw insisted with a hiss.

Talltail narrowed his eyes, clearly struggling to keep calm. “Blackpaw is my kit.”

“And I presume that sending out my kits into danger is all well and good, then?” the brown tabby warrior sneered.

“Stop.” Heatherstar’s voice sliced through the air like a claw, her blue eyes narrowed into slits. Talltail continued to glare at Shrewclaw, but the two warriors stood down. The leader looked repulsed by the display of contempt before her. “Shrewclaw, I expect better from my warriors. Do you think it is easy to make these decisions? Talltail chose to let the trail go cold to protect the cats in his patrol. One of those cats happened to be your son.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful? Mudpaw can take care of himself,” Shrewclaw snarled. “He’s not a sniveling kittypet!”

Mudpaw, for his part, stuck close to his brother Tornpaw at the edge of the meeting and was carefully studying his forepaws. Blackpaw felt a sudden kinship with him; Mudpaw looked just as embarrassed by his father as Blackpaw was about Talltail.

“Yes, he can take care of himself,” Heatherstar agreed. “But he still is only an apprentice. And now because of Talltail’s decision not to send his patrol after the fox, the entire Clan is aware of the threat. We can all make the necessary preparations.”  

Blackpaw sighed. Heatherstar was obviously trying to defend her deputy, but no one would disagree that if some other cat had been on the patrol, they would have tracked the fox down immediately. And the real kits wouldn’t be in danger.

“Why doesn’t every cat just admit that they think that I’d be useless in a fox attack?” Blackpaw muttered bitterly. “At least Shrewclaw is honest about what he thinks of me.”

“Useless?” Wrenflight looked offended on his behalf.

Dawnstripe blinked sympathetically down at him. The cream-colored tabby gave him an encouraging nudge on the shoulder with her muzzle. “You’ll get your chance.”

“When?” Blackpaw lashed his tail.

“You’re young,” Sorrelshine purred. “Chances will jump at you like fleas.”

More empty platitudes! Didn’t Dawnstripe or Sorrelshine understand just how much he itched to prove himself? Deadfoot at least had been apologetic. Blackpaw huffed and turned back to Heatherstar, who was closing the meeting.

“With any luck, the fox has made its den far away from our camp. That said, I want all cats to be on high alert. If anyone gets even a whiff of fox, I want it reported to me or to Talltail immediately.” Heatherstar’s gaze swept across the Clan. Then she shook herself and jumped gracefully down from the Tallrock.

The Clan began to disperse. Blackpaw dipped his head to his companions and made his way toward his nest. Mudpaw hurried to fall into step with him, Tornpaw at his brother’s heels.

“What do you two want?” Blackpaw growled.  

Surprise flickered across Mudpaw’s face. He recovered quickly and met Blackpaw’s gaze. It seemed as though he wanted to tell Blackpaw something important, but when he spoke it was only to say, “I don’t think Heatherstar will lift our punishments early.”

Blackpaw snorted. Having to spend more time with Mudpaw was the last thing on his mind. He settled down on his nest, clean and sweet-smelling from the fresh moss that Woollytail had put down for him this morning. “Probably not. Talltail didn’t even mention it to her.”

“But it was the whole point of the patrol!” Mudpaw looked frustrated as he reached his own nest.

“Tonight was a disaster,” Tornpaw agreed, settling down beside his brother. He pressed his flank against Mudpaw’s brown tabby fur. “But it’ll be over soon.”

“I just want to go back to training with you,” Mudpaw told Tornpaw.

 “Maybe I could ask Cloudrunner if we could join tomorrow’s training session,” Tornpaw said thoughtfully. “What are you doing?”

“Talltail said that Deadfoot needs to give me more battle training,” Blackpaw said.

“Which means I’ll be showing Blackpaw more basic moves,” Mudpaw groaned.

Blackpaw hissed. “Don’t forget that I beat you the other day.”

Mudpaw rolled his eyes. “No, never.”

Perhaps Deadfoot had been right to refrain from teaching Mudpaw and Blackpaw fighting moves together. The tensions between them had cooled somewhat, but resentment could always overflow like the river on a rainy day. Especially after the events of tonight. Things were starting to feel less like Blackpaw and Mudpaw were at each other’s throats, and more like Shrewclaw was at Talltail’s.

Chapter Text

Blackpaw approached the elders’ den with two plump field mice from the prey-heap hanging from his teeth. It had been a couple of days since the discovery of the fox scent near the RiverClan border. So far, no patrol had managed to track it down. Deadfoot had been keeping his promise to Talltail and was running Blackpaw ragged by drilling fighting techniques. Blackpaw found that he didn’t mind training with Mudpaw and Tornpaw so much when they were all too focused on trying to pummel each other into the dust.

He and the other two apprentices had left from today’s battle training with orders to return to camp with fresh-kill for the elders. Morningkit and Ashkit were there in the elders’ den, rolling around Whiteberry’s nest when Blackpaw pushed his way inside. Whiteberry was crouched next to Flailfoot, looking on with amusement as the two kits wrestled around.  

“Don’t make such a mess, you two,” Blackpaw said, setting down the prey.

Morningkit and Ashkit jumped to their paws and rushed to Blackpaw, pressing their pelts against his flank warmly in greeting. With a purr, Blackpaw licked Ashkit’s ear and nuzzled Morningkit’s cheek.

“They’re not much trouble,” Lilywhisker purred from her nest. She stood to inspect the pieces of prey and took one mouse into her jaws.

“Not nearly as much as that fox,” Flailfoot meowed as Lilywhisker left the mouse at his paws. The elderly black tom turned his amber eyes back to Blackpaw. “Has there been any sign of it?”

Blackpaw shook his head. “Not that I’ve seen. But Deadfoot and the other mentors have been keeping all us apprentices close to our border with the Twoleg farm.”

“If we still tunneled, we would be safer,” Whiteberry sighed, taking the other mouse.

“Don’t be harebrained,” Flailfoot scoffed. “Foxes dig holes much better than cats do.”

“Sometimes I wish we were lions,” Lilywhisker meowed, settling back down onto her nest. “They never had to worry about foxes, I’m sure!”

“Why not?” Morningkit turned her curious eyes to the brown tabby molly.  

Just as Lilywhisker opened her mouth to reply, Tornpaw and Mudpaw came in the den with more prey. Tornpaw was holding a large rabbit in his jaws, and Mudpaw had caught a lark and a pigeon. Lilywhisker welcomed the brothers with a friendly mew. “A feast! Come in, you two, I was just about to start telling the kits about the great Clans.”

Tornpaw brightened as he dropped his rabbit at Lilywhisker’s paws. The old molly gathered Morningkit and Ashkit beside her and asked them to share the rabbit with her. Blackpaw felt a thrum of discomfort; he had been hoping that Lilywhisker would share her prey with him again. Whiteberry and Flailfoot had already torn into their mice, and Tornpaw had taken Mudpaw’s lark.

Mudpaw dropped down at Blackpaw’s side, nudging the pigeon toward him. “You can have some of my pigeon.”

Blackpaw stared at Mudpaw. “Really?”

“I don’t want to hear your belly growling in the middle of the story,” Mudpaw said, and then began to pluck out the feathers from the pigeon. Reluctantly, Blackpaw helped clean the pigeon and tore into its flesh.

“Go on, Lilywhisker!” Ashkit urged, her mouth full. “Why didn’t the great Clan cats worry about foxes?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, kit,” Flailfoot meowed. “Mind your manners.”

Ashkit nodded absently to Flailfoot’s light reprimand. Her dark gray fur was fluffed up with excitement as she nudged Lilywhisker’s flank with her muzzle. Morningkit looked up at Lilywhisker with huge glowing eyes as she cracked a rabbit bone between her teeth.

Lilywhisker twitched her ears and smiled down at the kits. “Foxes would have been no match for the cats of the great Clans. LionClan, TigerClan, and LeopardClan were made up of huge, golden-pelted cats. They were fierce and noble, feared by all in the forest. All cats, from the softest kittypet to the toughest rogue, are descended from them.” She paused her story to take a bite of rabbit.

 Morningkit gasped with awe. “We come from lions?”

“And tigers and leopards,” Flailfoot said dryly. “I find it hard to believe, myself.”

Whiteberry prodded his friend with his paw. “Don’t tease. These stories are important parts of our tradition.”

“You and your traditions again.” Flailfoot’s whiskers twitched with amusement.

“But did anything scare the great Clans?” Ashkit asked.

“Well, they had to deal with boars.” Lilywhisker licked her lips clean of fresh-kill.

“Boars?” Blackpaw wondered. He had heard very little about the great Clans, and was just as interested in the stories as the young kits.

“Like Twoleg swine, but much larger and meaner,” Tornpaw supplied.

Blackpaw had caught glimpses of swine by the farm and shuddered to imagine a huger, fiercer version of the intelligent-eyed creatures.

“One LeopardClan warrior called Fleetfoot was not afraid of the boars,” Lilywhisker said, and properly began telling the story of how the LeopardClan warrior bravely fought off two boars, winning the rest of her Clan hunting rights to the river. “In those days, borders were not as set as they are now. LionClan, LeopardClan, and TigerClan all hunted across the same land. But now LeopardClan, the swiftest Clan, had proven their bravery and earned the rights to the river forever.”

“The swiftest! Like WindClan!” Morningkit said in wonder. She reared up and lunged at her sister. “I’m Morningfang, warrior of LeopardClan! Get back, Rage!”

Ashkit let out a playful growl and kicked up dust as Morningkit tumbled into her. Blackpaw, Tornpaw, and Mudpaw sprang out of the way to allow space for the grappling kittens.

“Watch it,” Mudpaw hissed, tail lashing with annoyance.

“Kits!” Whiteberry said in exasperation. “What I would give to have that tireless energy again.”

“I think that’s enough for tonight, dears,” Lilywhisker said to Ashkit and Morningkit, in a gentle but firm tone. “It’s getting late. Your mother will want you back in the nursery.”

Ashkit and Morningkit stopped their playfight, their ears flattening against their head with disappointment. Finally, Ashkit stepped forward to touch her nose to Lilywhisker’s. “Goodnight, Lilywhisker.”

Morningkit echoed her sister and the two kits exchanged their goodbyes with each elder and apprentice. As Ashkit and Morningkit scampered off back to the nursery, Blackpaw heard Ashkit say, “I’m Ashstar, leader of LeopardClan! No fox is a match for me!”

Blackpaw shook his head fondly and stood to clear away the bones of fresh-kill.

.

Wrenflight was guarding the camp that night. Heatherstar had decided that it was best to keep a guard posted in case the fox dared to approach the camp. The brown tabby’s ears were pricked as she paced the walls of the camp. Blackpaw dipped his head to her as he slipped into the dirtplace tunnel.

He buried his dirt and paused when he smelled the faint, familiar scents of Morningkit and Ashkit leading outside of the camp. Fear pulsed through him. He sniffed again, recoiling at the stench of other cats’ dirt, but the kits’ scent trail was there, a couple hours old at most. What were the kits doing going outside of camp in the middle of the night? How had Wrenflight not noticed them?

Blackpaw bolted out of the dirtplace, the gorse rustling behind him. Mudpaw raised his head, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He skidded to a halt, hesitant now that he faced waking up the entire Clan. What if it was a mistake, and Morningkit and Ashkit were safe and sound in the nursery?

Wrenflight had noticed Blackpaw’s panic and approached him, her pelt prickling with alarm.

“The kits,” he whispered as she came into earshot. Mudpaw scrambled up to his paws at the mention of the kits, and Wrenflight whipped her head around to the nursery, where all was still. Blackpaw took a few uncertain steps toward the dirtplace tunnel. “I think they’ve gone. I have to go find them.”

“Not alone you aren’t,” Mudpaw hissed, unsheathing his claws. “Wrenflight, wake the Clan. I’ll help Blackpaw.”

“I’m not letting two apprentices go off alone,” said Wrenflight, her blue eyes flashing with worry and determination. “There’s a fox out there.”

“Just go,” Tornpaw snapped, and the other three young cats turned around to see the gray tabby apprentice stretching in his nest. Blackpaw hadn’t even realized they’d woken him. Tornpaw yawned and licked his lips, and then met Blackpaw’s gaze. “I’ll check the nursery and alert the Clan. Just leave now! You mouse-brains are wasting time.”

Mudpaw dipped his head to his brother. Blackpaw, Wrenflight, and Mudpaw dashed off into the dirtplace tunnel, sniffing around to find the scent trail again. Blackpaw picked it up and led the way out of the tunnel, dismay washing over him. As the three young cats left the dirtplace and the camp properly, he distantly heard Tornpaw’s alarm call cut through the air. There would be another patrol out looking for the kits soon.

“How did you not notice them leave?” Mudpaw growled at Wrenflight, his anger masking his worry. “The fox could have gotten to them already!”

The young warrior shook her head, looking deeply guilty. “If those two kits are dead, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“They’re not dead,” Blackpaw said stubbornly, and picked up the pace. The scent trail was leading to Fourtrees. He prayed they would find Morningkit and Ashkit there, safe in the shelter of the four Great Oaks. Those two kits were his closest friends. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if they were gone. He refused to even entertain the possibility. “We have to find them.”

“StarClan protect them,” Wrenflight whispered. She ran on ahead of Mudpaw and Blackpaw, disappearing through the long stalks of grass. Blackpaw leaped on after her with Mudpaw at his heels.

In the dead of the night, the moor looked so different. The land that seemed so welcoming and lively during the day suddenly felt eerie and isolated in the silver wash of the moonlight. Anything could be hiding behind the heather and gorse. The stars of Silverpelt swirled above them, impossibly far away and at the same time so close that Blackpaw wondered if he could touch them.

A fox cried in the distance, and Mudpaw tensed beside him. “Did you hear that?”

“It was the fox,” Wrenflight said, poking her head through the rye. “We need to hurry! What if it finds the kits before we do?”

“What if it finds us before we find the kits?” Blackpaw’s pelt bristled. He had been so eager to prove himself on Talltail’s patrol the other day, but now he was afraid that three young cats would not be able to fend off a fox by themselves.

“Not just the fox.” Mudpaw shook his head. “I think I can hear the kits.”

Blackpaw strained to listen above the rustling of the grass and heather in the wind. Sure enough, he could hear the muffled mews of the kits. They didn’t sound hurt, just afraid of the fox’s screech. Relief washed over him so strongly that his legs almost buckled. “They’re several tree-lengths away. But I know it’s them.”

Wrenflight, Blackpaw, and Mudpaw followed the sound of the kits’ mewls. Blackpaw paused periodically to check that they were still on top of Morningkit and Ashkit’s scent trails. Tracking down the kits in the dark reminded Blackpaw of the excursion he’d taken with Woollytail in the tunnels, and he felt heartened that those skills he’d begun to learn were serving him well in the night.

“Morningkit!” Blackpaw called out once he felt they’d gotten close enough to the sound of the kits’ fearful whimpering. “Ashkit! It’s me, Blackpaw. We’ve come to take you back home.”

“Blackpaw?” It was Ashkit’s voice.

Blackpaw rushed towards it, opening his mouth to taste the air. He could smell the faint scent of Woollytail and he frowned. Two small gray shapes rose out from a dark hole in the ground, and realization shot through Blackpaw. The kits had found an entrance to the tunnels! Had they recognized Woollytail’s scent?

Morningkit and Ashkit bounded to their rescuers, tails sticking straight up into the air. “Blackpaw! Mudpaw! Wrenflight!”

“What did you two think you were doing?” Wrenflight asked. “You’ve worried us to pieces!”

“We wanted to help find the fox,” said Ashkit.

The fox screamed again. This time it sounded closer. Terror crashed into Blackpaw like a wave. He didn’t want to fight a fox with the kits with them!

Mudpaw whipped around to glower at the kits. “More like it found us!”

“We need to get the kits out of here.” Wrenflight’s voice hardened. “Now.”

She scooped Ashkit up by the scruff of her neck. At around three moons old, Ashkit was getting a little too big to be carried by her scruff, and her feet brushed against the floor as Wrenflight dragged her away from the tunnel entrance. Ashkit wailed in protest, but the young warrior only shushed her. Blackpaw was still too small to lift a kit so large, so Mudpaw carried Morningkit, who was equally upset at having to be lifted by her scruff.

Blackpaw took the lead, turning back to camp in a slightly different way than they had come in the hopes that they would meet up with the other patrol. As he made another turn, he stopped dead at the sight of glinting eyes watching through the grass. A furious snarl came out from behind the grass and the fox leapt of its cover. Blackpaw bristled with fear and took a step back.

The fox stalked forward and Blackpaw heard Morningkit and Ashkit shriek with terror.  Feeling his blood turn to ice, Blackpaw lunged forward at the fox. He was the only cat in their little patrol who wasn’t holding a kit. He would just have to hope that he could keep the fox distracted for long enough that Wrenflight and Mudpaw could take the kits back to safety.

He landed a blow to the fox’s muzzle, and the fox jerked back with an enraged growl coming from deep within its chest. The fox reared back to bring its weight down onto Blackpaw, but he rolled out of its way. Blackpaw raked his claws against the fox’s flank. Its long muzzle swung sideways and its teeth closed around one of his hind legs, tugging him closer.

Blackpaw whimpered with pain, but the fire of battle was still in him. He snarled and curled his body around the fox’s muzzle. He clawed at the creature’s face with his forelegs and kicked out with his other hind leg. The fox’s fangs sank deeper into his leg and Blackpaw’s vision turned white.

“Mouse-brain!” Blackpaw heard Mudpaw yowl before the other apprentice’s body knocked the fox away from him. “I’m not letting you turn to crow-food!”

Dazed, Blackpaw scrambled out of the fox’s way and turned to see Mudpaw gripping onto the fox’s back with his claws. The fox was snarling and snapping, but couldn’t reach Mudpaw.

The fox dropped onto its back as though to crush Mudpaw, but the brown tabby tom merely held fast, raking his claws down the fox’s flank. His teeth were buried into the fox’s shoulder. The fox thrashed around, and Mudpaw lost his grip.

Blackpaw took a step forward as though to help the other apprentice fight the fox, but his injured hind leg trembled when he put weight on it. His paw pads felt sticky with blood. He felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned to see Wrenflight standing beside him, her whiskers brushing against him. She gave him a minute shake of her head and Blackpaw gratefully sank back.

Wrenflight darted into the fray, her light brown-and-white pelt raised so that she looked twice as large. She landed a heavy blow to the fox’s head and hissed, her tail lashing madly. The fox whipped around and lunged at Wrenflight, snapping its jaws closed around her shoulder. Fury blazed in her blue eyes as she ripped herself free and bolted underneath the fox, tearing into its belly.

Wrenflight was a phenomenal fighter, well-worthy of her warrior name, but what had she and Mudpaw done with the kits? Blackpaw glanced around to see two shapes huddled on top of a hill, underneath a ticket of gorse. He limped his way up to the gorse and planted himself outside as though to guard the kits.

“Are you hurt?” Morningkit whispered.

“A little,” Blackpaw grunted, turning to look at the little tortoiseshell molly and her sister.

Morningkit’s eyes flashed with guilt. “I’m sorry! We never meant to hurt any cat.”

Blackpaw heard Mudpaw cry out with pain and he turned his attention back to the fight. Mudpaw’s flank was stained with blood. Blackpaw clawed at the grass anxiously. He wanted to rejoin the fight, but Wrenflight had stopped him. She’d obviously wanted him to keep watch over the kits.

The fox seemed intent on not giving up. It slammed its head against Wrenflight’s side, bowling her over. The young warrior gasped with pain and fear, and Blackpaw knew he could not leave his friends to fight this enemy alone. Ignoring the pain shooting up his hind leg, Blackpaw bunched his muscles to leap back down.

But before he could reach the fox, Talltail burst through the heather, followed by Meadowslip, Stagleap, Woollytail, and Plumclaw. The other patrol had arrived.

Chapter Text

Plumclaw was the first to launch herself at the fox, landing a forceful strike to its muzzle. The fox reared back with a snarl, and Wrenflight and Mudpaw were able to escape from out of the fox’s reach. Plumclaw faced the fox, her tail whipping back and forth, her ears flat against her head.

Blackpaw could hear her low growl from where he was up the hill. The kits squirmed against him, afraid for their mother. They had no need to be worried, though. The rescue patrol had more than enough cats to take on the fox.

 Talltail and Stagleap leaped out after Plumclaw and now approached the fox from both sides. Together Stagleap and Talltail rammed into each side of the fox. It let out a cry and jerked away from the two warriors, but Talltail raked his claws over the fox’s haunches. The fox kicked out at Talltail, escape its only priority now. Even a fox knew when it had been beaten.

Blackpaw had never seen Talltail fight before. Admiration for his father rose up in him as Talltail dodged the fox’s kick and landed a tail-length away from the fox. At the flick of Talltail’s ear, Woollytail and Meadowslip lunged out after the fox as it disappeared into the heather.

Talltail hesitated, looking frantically up to the thicket of gorse where Blackpaw crouched over the two kits. Relief flooded into Talltail’s amber eyes as his gaze met his child’s. He stared up at Blackpaw for a heartbeat, conflicted, before he plunged after Woollytail and Meadowslip to help them chase after the fox.

“Come on,” Wrenflight rasped, nudging Plumclaw’s flank lightly. Wrenflight pointed up the hill with her muzzle to where Blackpaw hovered protectively over Morningkit and Ashkit. Plumclaw shook herself as though waking from a dream and began to climb to the top of the hill.  

Mudpaw scampered up the hill while Wrenflight rose to her paws and climbed more slowly, favoring one side. Her face was clenched with pain, but her blue eyes glimmered with triumph and exhilaration. Stagleap kept pace with her and murmured something in the brown-and-white molly’s ear, and she shook her head.

“Are you okay?” Plumclaw demanded as she reached the kits. She sniffed at Morningkit and Ashkit and began to lick at them fussily. “How could the two of you sneak out like that with a fox on the loose?”

“I’m fine!” Morningkit protested, struggling away from her mother. She shook out her mottled coat with an annoyed flick of her tail tip. “Blackpaw’s hurt, not us!”

“He fought the fox,” Ashkit added with wide amber eyes. “It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

Morningkit nodded. “He was so brave!”

Blackpaw gave his chest fur a few self-conscious licks at hearing the kits’ praise. He had only been protecting them the way the warrior code required. Still, Blackpaw couldn’t help the glow of pride warming inside his chest.

“It was completely mouse-brained,” Mudpaw cut in, settling down next to Blackpaw. He glared down at the smaller apprentice, but there was no resentment in his eyes. Suddenly Blackpaw understood that Mudpaw had been worried about him, and his fur prickled.

Wrenflight and Stagleap reached the top of the hill. The young molly grunted with agreement to Mudpaw. She frowned at Blackpaw and shook her head. “You could’ve been killed, do you know that?”

Plumclaw turned her concerned gaze to Blackpaw and sniffed at him, recoiling when she scented his blood. She nosed at his injured hind leg, and Blackpaw gasped, flinching away from her touch. Plumclaw glanced up at him, her voice a troubled rumble in her throat. “You poor thing!”

“I’ll be okay,” Blackpaw promised, putting on a brave face for the queen that had helped raise him. The truth was that the bite stung like ice, creeping up his leg and spreading to his flank. His stomach roiled.

But Plumclaw clearly could tell it was a lie; she knew him too well for that. She licked at the wound as gently as she could, but her rough tongue still shot up little notes of pain up through his leg. Finally, Plumclaw drew back. “What in StarClan’s name were you thinking, confronting a fox with so little battle training?”

Her meow was fierce with protectiveness. Even though she wasn’t a mother to him, Blackpaw realized, Plumclaw loved him deeply.

“I wanted to give Mudpaw and Wrenflight the best chance of saving the kits,” Blackpaw mewed.

Warmth filled Plumclaw’s amber gaze. “May StarClan keep you, Blackpaw.” She rubbed her muzzle against his briefly, then looked around at Mudpaw, Wrenflight, and the quiet Stagleap. She was the most senior warrior here, and her posture straightened with authority. “Are there any other injuries?”

“That StarClan-forsaken fox wrenched my shoulder,” Wrenflight growled. She was still favoring her injured shoulder. “But I can make it to camp if we go slowly.”

Plumclaw nodded. “We’ll let you and Blackpaw set the pace, then. What about you, Mudpaw?”

“The fox got me in a few places,” Mudpaw said, licking a long scratch on his flank. His bleeding had already slowed to a trickle. “But I’m not that hurt.”

“Good,” said Plumclaw. “Grab some cobwebs for Blackpaw’s leg and we’ll go.” Mudpaw dashed off in search of cobwebs without a word, and the dark gray molly turned to Stagleap. “Stagleap, will you help me with the kits?”

Stagleap glanced at Wrenflight, as though trying to decide whether the younger warrior needed help too. “Certainly.” He rose to his paws and scooped Morningkit up by her scruff. He turned to Wrenflight and offered his shoulder for her to lean on, but the tabby molly refused with a polite shake of her head.

“Not again!” Ashkit complained as Plumclaw grasped the kit’s scruff in her jaws and lifted her off the ground.

Mudpaw returned with a thick clump of cobwebs and hastily wrapped them around Blackpaw’s injury. It didn’t look at all professional once Mudpaw was finished, but it would hold until Barkface got a look at it.

Plumclaw dipped her head at Wrenflight and Blackpaw to lead the way back to camp. Blackpaw stood and had to pause for a moment, breathing deeply to control the pain singing up his leg. Wordlessly Mudpaw stepped up beside him and allowed Blackpaw to lean against him for support.

.

Upon the patrol’s return, they found Heatherstar waiting for them just by the entrance to camp. The WindClan leader’s gray pelt had an unearthly glow in the predawn sunlight. As Blackpaw and Wrenflight limped out of the gorse tunnel, Heatherstar jumped to her paws, her blue eyes scanning over the injured cats with dismay. “What happened to the others?”

“The fox found us,” Wrenflight said, limping towards the center of camp. The journey back had obviously tired her, but her voice rang out clear and strong as she settled down. “It attacked us, but it fled when Talltail’s patrol appeared. Talltail, Woollytail, and Meadowslip chased after it.”

Other Clan members had begun to assemble around the returning cats, murmuring relief over having found the kits. Plumclaw and Stagleap came up behind Blackpaw and set down the kits. Appledawn hurried over and nudged Morningkit and Ashkit towards the nursery. Plumclaw watched her kits go with the other queen for a moment before turning back to Heatherstar.

Before Plumclaw could begin to make her own report, Barkface pushed his way through the crowd, his amber eyes glowing with concern. He took one look at Wrenflight’s wrenched shoulder and Blackpaw leaning heavily against Mudpaw and began herding the injured cats to the burrow where he made his den.

“It’s not that bad,” Blackpaw said, trying to hide the way that pain tightened his mew. His leg was the worst of it, but every muscle in his body ached too. Beside him, Mudpaw snorted his disagreement.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Barkface, a bit of fondness slipping out from under the heat of his irritability.  

Wrenflight hesitated, glancing back at their leader. “I want to help report to Heatherstar. I helped find the kits.”

But the cleric was resolute. “You can tell her once I’ve treated you.”

Once the four of them were inside the cleric den, Barkface got to work bringing out his medicinal herbs. He gave Wrenflight’s shoulder a cursory sniff and seemed to decide that she would be the quickest to set to rights. Barkface pushed a couple of poppy seeds towards Wrenflight and turned around to make a poultice of goldenrod and burdock root.

“Isn’t burdock for rat bites?” Mudpaw asked, skeptical.

Barkface spat out the poultice onto a leaf. “The bite on Blackpaw’s hind leg seems deep. Burdock root will bring down swelling and prevent infection much better than other herbs in my store,” he replied with an impatient flick of his tail. “You can grab some dock and start chewing it into a pulp too, if you want to help.”

Mudpaw started, as though he hadn’t expected his uncle to start using him as an extra set of paws. But it made sense. Barkface didn’t have an apprentice, and Mudpaw was the least of Barkface’s concern, having had only superficial injuries. The brown tabby apprentice left Blackpaw’s side to sniff at the cleric’s herb store and brought out some dock.

“Are you starting to feel sleepy, Wrenflight?” Barkface asked without looking up from his work.

Glancing back at his friend, Blackpaw could see that Wrenflight’s eyelids were beginning to droop. She let out an affirmative hum and Barkface padded quickly over to her side. “This is going to be painful only for a moment.”

Wrenflight nodded, and Barkface pressed his forepaws against her shoulder forcefully. The brown tabby warrior yowled with agony, but her shoulder locked back into place with a click. Blackpaw’s stomach churned and he had to look away to collect himself. He was fine around blood, but Wrenflight’s pain had made Blackpaw feel hot and queasy.

When Blackpaw looked back, Barkface had finished applying some of the poultice to Wrenflight’s shoulder and was sending her to her nest. He was glad that Wrenflight hadn’t been injured enough to need watching. Blackpaw had gotten the worst of it after all.   

“Light duties only for the next few days!” Barkface called after her, and Wrenflight sleepily waved her tail to acknowledge that she’d heard the cleric.  

Now that the warrior had been sorted, Barkface took a closer look at the bite on Blackpaw’s hind leg. The cleric peeled the sodden cobwebs off of the injury and Blackpaw hissed with pain. “It is deep,” Barkface confirmed grimly. “But the bleeding seems to have mostly slowed.”

“It still hurts a lot.” It taxed Blackpaw even to speak now, and he knew that it was best to be honest with Barkface.

Barkface nodded. “The dock will help. I need you to lay down on your good side now. Rest your leg.”

Blackpaw sank down into a cool mossy nest with relief. Mudpaw presented him with a couple of poppy seeds, which Blackpaw licked up gratefully. As the poppy seeds began to deaden the worst of Blackpaw's pain and lull him to sleep, he could feel Barkface gently adjusting his injured leg and applying the poultice to his injuries. Unable to fight off the heaviness in his eyelids any longer, Blackpaw shut his eyes.

“Will he be all right?” asked a new voice, as though from a great distance.

Blackpaw hazily recognized Talltail’s anxious mew. He must have come home from chasing off the fox. Blackpaw was too exhausted to hear Barkface’s response to Talltail, but he had a million questions to ask about the fox and he wanted to reassure Talltail that he was fine.

His eyelids were locked shut, but he managed to open his mouth to speak. Nothing other than a wordless murmur came out as he fought through the medicine-induced drowse. Within the next moment, a weight had dropped beside Blackpaw’s nest. Talltail’s scent washed over Blackpaw and he felt his father’s tongue rasp against the top of his head.

“You were very brave,” came Talltail’s whisper, brushing against his ear fur. “Heatherstar says that you and Mudpaw are no longer being punished. You two did well, Blackpaw. Rest now.”

Blackpaw let himself drift away as Talltail fell quiet and continued to groom his fur, gentle and tender as a bird preening its feathers.

Chapter Text

Blackpaw landed on his side with a grunt and watched as Deadfoot leaned over him, his whiskers brushing against the scars on Blackpaw’s hindleg. Blackpaw shivered, wishing his mentor wouldn’t be so careful. This was far from their first training session since Barkface had allowed Blackpaw to go back to full apprentice duties. He could handle a rougher training!

Nearly two moons had passed since his fight with the fox. Heatherstar had instantly lifted his and Mudpaw’s punishments and had honored Wrenflight and the two apprentices in a Clan meeting the next day, but Blackpaw never got the chance to enjoy his freedom.

His recovery had taken longer than he’d hoped it would.  Despite Barkface’s best efforts, the bite had gotten infected. Blackpaw had spent a sickly moon resting in the cleric’s den, watching the newleaf grow warmer and the moor begin to teem with prey slowly growing fatter in the bounty of approaching greenleaf.

He hadn’t been able to learn how to catch lapwings with Plumclaw, or even play with Appledawn’s new kits. Blackpaw had hated feeling ill and isolated from the rest of the Clan. Of course, Talltail had spent every free moment with him. And Blackpaw’s other friends had tried to visit every day too. Still, he’d had to sit by while Mudpaw and Tornpaw resumed their roles as WindClan’s only apprentices for a time. They were due to get their warrior names any day now.

Once Barkface had given him the clear, Blackpaw had thrown himself back into training with fervor. He took advantage of every opportunity that arose to train with Tornpaw and Mudpaw. Very soon he would be alone in training sessions, at least until Morningkit and Ashkit became ‘paws.

“Now show me what you did to the fox when it trapped you like this,” Deadfoot said, pressing his forepaw firmly down on the apprentice’s flank in order to prevent Blackpaw from slipping away.  

The hold that Deadfoot had Blackpaw in wasn’t the exact same, but it was similar enough that the small apprentice could twist himself around, remembering how he had turned on the fox like a cornered rabbit. Blackpaw used all four of his paws to pummel at Deadfoot’s muzzle. He kept his claws sheathed, but he put a good amount of weight behind his kicks. His mentor flinched away from the strikes, the instinct to protect his eyes taking over. Deadfoot shook his head and took a pace or two back, allowing Blackpaw to roll away.

“Good, very good,” Deadfoot nodded with approval. He narrowed his green eyes. “But what if it had done this?”

Deadfoot shot forward. Blackpaw got ready to dodge him, but rather than tackling him, his mentor sailed past him and turned in the air, grabbing Blackpaw’s scruff in his teeth. He gasped and tried to jerk away, but Deadfoot held onto his scruff tightly and shook him as though to disorient him. Blackpaw let out a grrow of frustration and twisted around in Deadfoot’s grasp. He landed a desperate blow to his mentor’s shoulder. Deadfoot was unfazed and pulled on his scruff as though to drag him over the ground like an overgrown kit.

Blackpaw planted himself into a crouch and thrashed, trying to slip out of Deadfoot’s hold. He growled again. Escaping Deadfoot’s grip by twisting away was a fruitless endeavor, Blackpaw decided as he narrowed his eyes to a slit. This time Blackpaw aimed for his mentor’s good foreleg when he lashed out.

Deadfoot reared back to avoid being unbalanced by his apprentice, his teeth still closed around Blackpaw’s scruff. But now Blackpaw had another in: his mentor’s chest and soft belly was exposed. He lunged forward and crashed into Deadfoot’s belly. Finally Deadfoot let go of Blackpaw’s scruff as he stumbled back a few paces, but didn’t fall. Deadfoot was good at balancing on his hind legs, Blackpaw reflected. It was hard to get him to topple over. 

Deadfoot dropped back down onto his forepaw, his green eyes alight. “Clever strategy,” he praised. WindClan cats valued battle tactics far more than sheer brute strength to win. “When you couldn’t unbalance me by going after my foreleg, you found a way to turn that to your favor.”

Blackpaw raised his head, warmed by his mentor’s approval. “You’re a tough cat to beat!”

“That’s good,” Deadfoot purred. “It means I’m teaching you to be a better fighter than I am.”

“You think so?” Blackpaw asked brightly. He dropped onto his back and gave a playful tap to Deadfoot’s muzzle with one of his forepaws.

Deadfoot lightly batted Blackpaw’s paw away from his face. “You’ve been working very hard. Sometimes too hard.” Deadfoot’s whiskers twitched. Blackpaw rolled over onto his belly, ears flattening. But his mentor’s tone was gentle. “Your dedication is commendable, but you’re my responsibility. I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“I’m just trying to make up for time lost…” Blackpaw mewed.

Deadfoot shook his head. “There’s no need for that either, Blackpaw. Every cat learns at their own pace.” He paused for a heartbeat. “That said, I think it’s time for the first proper assessment of the skills that you’ve learned so far.”

Blackpaw’s ears pricked and he scrambled up to his paws, his black fur puffing up with excitement.  “Really?”

“I’ve already spoken to Heatherstar and Talltail, and they’ve agreed,” Deadfoot continued. “Tomorrow you will be evaluated on your hunting skills. If all goes well, you’ll get to go to the Gathering.”

The Gathering! This would be Blackpaw’s first time going to one. He imagined what Fourtrees would look like under the light of the full moon, the clearing crowded with cats of all Clans. Twitching fur and eyes glinting under the stars.

“I’m ready!” Blackpaw promised. He gave a little bounce.

“I know you are,” Deadfoot said fondly. “Now go and rest. You’ve a big day tomorrow!”

.

Blackpaw was the last to arrive at the agreed meeting place the next morning. It was lightly drizzling and droplets of water settled on Blackpaw’s thick pelt. Around him, he heard the chitter of content birdsong. Thrushes were out looking for worms, no doubt. It was perfect hunting weather.

Mudpaw and Tornpaw were waiting at the base of Outlook Rock. None of their mentors were there. Instead, Blackpaw felt a spark of surprise to see Heatherstar sitting atop the rock. Flanking the leader were Woollytail and Dawnstripe.

“Good morning,” Heatherstar greeted. Blackpaw’s confusion must have shown on his face, for she blinked down at him and continued, “I want to see personally how our three apprentices are faring. I chose Woollytail and Dawnstripe to help me evaluate.”

Anxiety shot through Blackpaw like a bolt of lightning. Heatherstar herself would be conducting the assessment. He found it difficult to read his leader. Outwardly she always seemed to defend his place in the Clan, but Blackpaw felt that she was uncertain of him. He still remembered that she had objected to letting him join WindClan at first. Had his skills come far enough to impress her? He wished Deadfoot or Talltail were here to encourage him.

“We will be assessing your hunting skills today.” It was Dawnstripe who spoke now. The cream-colored tabby stood and dipped her head. “Mudpaw, we wish for you to hunt from here to Fourtrees. Tornpaw, you head towards the gorge. Blackpaw, we want you to head out near our border with the Twoleg farms.”

Woollytail’s gaze rested on Blackpaw for a moment before turning to the two older apprentices. “I know that Mudpaw and Tornpaw are hoping that this will be their last assessment before they become warriors. Hunt well, and may StarClan be with you.”

Mudpaw and Tornpaw both raised their chins with pride. Blackpaw knew that they had been working hard in the past two moons, and he couldn’t help but feel a prickle of excitement for the other two apprentices. He almost didn’t mind that he would be the only WindClan apprentice soon.

“You have your assignments,” Heatherstar meowed. She flicked an ear. “You may begin. Good luck to all of you.”

With that, Heatherstar and her two senior warriors jumped down from Outlook Rock and disappeared behind the tall grass.

Just as Blackpaw began to turn away, Mudpaw called out to him, “Wait!”

“Yeah?” Blackpaw looked over his shoulder to see Mudpaw and Tornpaw padding up to him.

Mudpaw touched his nose to the small apprentice’s; the gesture took Blackpaw by surprise, and he flinched back slightly. The brown tabby tom didn’t seem offended. His amber eyes glowed with sincerity. “Good luck.”

“Er, good luck,” Blackpaw repeated back. He glanced at Tornpaw, standing slightly behind his brother. “You too, Tornpaw.”

Tornpaw dipped his head in acknowledgement, and the three apprentices went their separate ways. Blackpaw opened his mouth to see if he could scent Heatherstar, Dawnstripe, or Woollytail in the wind, but he couldn’t detect them. His fur prickled and he started towards the Twoleg farms at a swift but steady pace. If any of them were around, he wanted to show that Deadfoot had improved his endurance.

He kept his eyes and ears alert for rabbits in particular. The light rain would drive all kinds of prey out from their nests and burrows. Blackpaw was used to catching birds and mice, but he had never caught a rabbit without the help of another cat chasing it to his paws. There was nothing wrong with hunting in pairs, of course—WindClan excelled at this and it was a point of pride for them.

But Blackpaw wanted to show the Clan that he could catch a rabbit on his own.

Not that he would ignore the chance to catch other types of prey. He’d heard rumors from other WindClan cats that the other Clans believed that WindClan solely hunted rabbits, but Blackpaw had never known that to be true. Mice, pigeons, thrushes, rabbits, hares, even the rare but highly celebrated hawk could be found on the prey-heap. Even squirrels could be found on their border with RiverClan. “All prey is good prey,” Deadfoot had told him time and time again.

Blackpaw didn’t even try to hunt near the camp—all the prey would be in the further reaches of their territory. He was heading to the place where Barkface grew his coltsfoot. He spotted a dove busily tugging at a worm and let himself fall into a hunting crouch, making sure to stay light on his paws. If the dove took flight, he would have to leap up to catch it in midair. Blackpaw had done it many times before, but he wasn’t sure if his evaluators would think of that as a messy or impressive catch. It was better to play it safe and try not to alert the dove while it was eating.

He paused to hastily make sure that he was downwind of it, and then bolted forward. Blackpaw landed solidly on the dove, delivering a swift bite to its neck. He dug a hole and deposited the dove inside so that he could come back to it later, and moved on.

As the morning slipped by, the light drizzle became a steady shower. He’d caught a mouse, but he was still on the lookout for rabbit. Drops of water ran down Blackpaw’s whiskers and he shook out his pelt in an attempt to keep dry. He wrinkled his nose. If any other prey had been out, they would soon be chased away by heavy rain.

Blackpaw was about to give up and head back to Outlook Rock when he saw a patch of chamomile twitch out of the corner of his eye. He froze and slowly turned his head to see a rabbit nibbling on the sweet flowers. His whiskers twitched. Finally, here was his chance.

Keeping a good distance from the rabbit, Blackpaw circled around to where he would be downwind. His tail brushed against a clump of rye and the rabbit’s head shot up, its chest rising and falling rapidly. Blackpaw held his breath and silently cursed his own carelessness. The rabbit bounded a few paces and stopped again. He had another chance, but the rabbit would be far more alert now.

Blackpaw crept as close to the rabbit as he dared. He took a breath and launched himself at the rabbit. It bounced just out of his reach, and Blackpaw snarled. He gave chase, remembering his training. Pursuing rabbits was less about running and more about continuously leaping. The rabbit slipped down into a hole, which must have been the entrance to a burrow.

“Oh no you don’t!” Blackpaw growled and slid in after it. As he blinked to get used to the low light, he realized this was no rabbit burrow, but another tunnel. Blackpaw felt awed. WindClan’s tunnel network had been so extensive! This tunnel was not as well maintained as the one that he had gone in with Woollytail, but he was sure it would be fine.

It had been a couple of moons since his excursion to the tunnels with Woollytail, but he still recalled the senior warrior’s advice. He let his senses of hearing and touch take over. He could hear the rabbit’s footfalls. It wasn’t so fast underground. Neither was he, but he just needed to hold out long enough to catch it. He gave a final lunge and brought his forelegs down onto its spine. The rabbit buckled underneath him, but it was restless with panic. Blackpaw delivered a killing bite to its throat and dragged it out of the tunnels.  

Blackpaw dropped the rabbit and took a moment to linger in the pride of his accomplishment. He smiled to himself. He could go back to Outlook Rock now. He’d caught plenty of fresh-kill.  

“You’re lucky I was the one who saw you catch that rabbit.”

Blackpaw froze. He had forgotten that he was being watched. Slowly he looked up to meet Woollytail’s blazing blue gaze, ears flattening. “I just wanted to see if I could do it.”

“During an assessment?” Woollytail scolded. “An assessment that Heatherstar is overlooking, at that? You know her law about tunnelling. What if she had been the one to see you go inside the tunnel?”

“But I wasn’t—” Blackpaw began, but shut his mouth at Woollytail’s hard stare. “Are you going to tell Heatherstar about how I caught the rabbit?”

Woollytail’s pelt flattened. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

Blackpaw nodded. He looked down at his paws and licked his lips. Hesitantly he glanced back up. “I really liked when you took me hunting in the tunnels last time.”

“I know you did.” Woollytail’s voice was laced with regret. He pointed with his muzzle to the rabbit resting at the black-furred apprentice’s paws. “It was a good catch. Come on, I’ll help you carry your prey back to Outlook Rock.”

The gray-and-white warrior bent down and grabbed the rabbit. He flicked his tail for Blackpaw to follow as they went back to where the young apprentice had stowed his fresh-kill.

“I could learn more about the tunnels,” Blackpaw murmured.

Woollytail was quiet for a moment. Then: “No.”

“I wouldn’t tell a soul,” he vowed. “Please. I know how much it means to you.”  

The senior warrior shook his head, looking clearly conflicted. Blackpaw backed down from the argument. They didn’t speak for the rest of the way back to Outlook Rock. Blackpaw tried not to feel too disappointed about Woollytail’s second refusal to teach him how to tunnel—he had caught a lot of prey.

Heatherstar was the only one at Outlook Rock when Woollytail and Blackpaw returned. She welcomed them and praised Blackpaw’s performance.

“I saw you catch the dove,” she said, approaching Blackpaw to inspect his fresh-kill. “It was a flawless kill. Woollytail, did you see him catch the rabbit?”

Woollytail answered easily, as though he had been thinking about what his response would be on the way over to Outlook Rock. “It was a good catch. I saw him circle around the rabbit slowly. He almost spooked it away, but he gave chase and caught it before it reached its burrow. His running and speed are coming along nicely as well.”

Heatherstar looked impressed. Blackpaw couldn’t help but feel that the true story of his catch was more impressive, but still he straightened up at the praise. “This is your first rabbit, isn’t it, Blackpaw?”

He nodded. “Yes, Heatherstar.”

Heatherstar smiled. “Then I think it's time for you to go to your first Gathering."

Blackpaw didn’t have time to feel excitement at the prospect of going to the Gathering tomorrow. At that moment, Mudpaw and Tornpaw joined them. Both apprentices were carrying two pieces of fresh-kill in their jaws. Mudpaw held a rabbit and a mouse, while Tornpaw had a pigeon and a thrush. Dawnstripe padded a few paces behind them, carrying a young hare. Blackpaw’s eyes widened. Tornpaw set down his fresh-kill and puffed out his chest proudly. “The hare was my catch.”

“Well done!” said Heatherstar, meeting the two older apprentices. She nodded to the hare. “Tornpaw, I saw you catch the hare. It was expertly done. And Mudpaw, you killed the rabbit swiftly and efficiently. You have both become excellent hunters. I’d say the two of you are ready to become warriors.”

Tornpaw and Mudpaw looked at each other with eyes blazing, barely containing their glee. Their excitement was contagious to Blackpaw—he would get to witness a warrior ceremony tonight! Then Mudpaw glanced at Blackpaw and blinked slowly. The brown tabby cleared his throat. “Heatherstar?”

“Yes?” Heatherstar prompted.

Mudpaw stepped forward and dipped his head to their leader. “Becoming a warrior is a great honor. I can't begin to describe how proud I am of myself and my brother. I'm excited that you believe that we’re ready, but Tornpaw and I have been talking, and we would like to wait.”

“Wait?” Blackpaw blurted. “Why would you want to wait?”

Tornpaw rolled his eyes. “We don’t want you to be the only apprentice in the Clan, mouse-brain.” Then he realized what he’d said in front of the leader, and flattened his ears. “Er, I only meant—yeah. We’d only want to wait until Morningkit and Ashkit become apprentices.”

“It’ll just be a moon or so,” Mudpaw added.

Blackpaw was annoyed. Did Mudpaw and Tornpaw believe he wouldn’t be able to do the apprentice chores on his own? Why would they possibly want to delay their warrior ceremony? “It would only be a moon that I’d be the only apprentice. I can handle it.”

“Stop, Blackpaw.” Heatherstar shook her head. She addressed the two older apprentices. “Are you certain about this?”

Mudpaw and Tornpaw both nodded.

“This is a very generous thing to do for Blackpaw,” Dawnstripe said.

“I’m glad that you apprentices are getting along,” Heatherstar purred. Clearly she was remembering Blackpaw’s fight with Mudpaw when he had first started training. She dipped her head to the two older apprentices. “Very well. Mudpaw, Tornpaw, if this is your wish, we will delay your ceremony. WindClan honors you both.”

Chapter Text

The full moon glowed low in the sky, washing Blackpaw’s pelt with silver as he waited for Heatherstar’s signal with the other cats in the Gathering party. A warm gentle breeze caressed his fur. He pressed against Talltail’s flank as he peered down into the hollow through the space between Mudpaw and Tornpaw in front of him. Already Blackpaw could see the crowd of cats underneath the four Great Oaks.

“Remember,” Deadfoot murmured from Blackpaw’s other side, “you must not reveal too much to the other Clans. The truce lasts only for one night.”

Blackpaw nodded, privately thinking that Deadfoot needn’t worry. He had no idea what he would say to cats of other Clans beyond a polite greeting in the first place. He was grateful that the Gathering party was so large tonight. There would be plenty of familiar faces at Fourtrees.

All three WindClan apprentices were in attendance. Barkface and Deadfoot stood at one of Blackpaw’s sides with Talltail and Woollytail at the other. Blackpaw had been stealing glances at Woollytail all evening, still wishing that he had been able to convince the former tunneller to teach him more of the old ways. For his part, the senior warrior had been deliberately averting Blackpaw’s gaze.

Behind Blackpaw, Doespring was whispering something to Wrenflight. Mistmouse, Shrewclaw, and Sorrelshine were bringing up the rear of the Gathering party. Mudpaw and Tornpaw had gone to the front of the patrol, purposefully leaving behind their father. Shrewclaw had been furious about the delay in his sons’ warrior ceremonies, and angrier still that they had chosen it for themselves. He’d given Blackpaw a vicious stare and asked Mudpaw, “Why are you making allowances for the kittypet?” The two brothers had glared at their father and brushed past him without another word, and had gone to share tongues with Rabbitstep and Pigeonflight before leaving for the Gathering.  

At last, Heatherstar let out a caterwaul and flicked her tail for the WindClan cats to follow her into Fourtrees. Blackpaw shook off his thoughts and sprang forward. Once they had reached the hollow, the Gathering party splintered apart to catch up with their friends and acquaintances from other Clans. Mudpaw and Tornpaw began to make their way toward a mixed group of ThunderClan and ShadowClan cats. Blackpaw hesitated. The two older apprentices had each gone to several Gatherings before, and he had thought that they would introduce him to apprentices of other Clans.

Talltail glanced down at him. “Do you want to stay with me?”

“No, thanks!” Blackpaw’s fur puffed up. He could think of few things more embarrassing than following his father around like a lost kit in front of the other Clans. “I’m going to join Mudpaw and Tornpaw.”

“All right.” Talltail’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Don’t get into trouble.”

“Who, me?” he asked with innocent blue eyes. “Never!”

Talltail purred and gave him a playful cuff to his ear. “Go on, then.”

His father stood and padded over to a sandy-gray ThunderClan cat and a large light brown tabby with a twisted jaw. Blackpaw’s ears pricked; that must be the famed RiverClan deputy Crookedjaw! He wondered if cats of other Clans were as awed by Talltail as he was about even getting a glimpse of Crookedjaw. It felt strange that the other Clans would look to Talltail as the reliable WindClan deputy and not the loving father that Blackpaw knew.

“That’s my mentor.”

Blackpaw nearly jumped out of his fur. He whipped around to see a small tortoiseshell ThunderClan apprentice, smelling strongly of herbs. Blackpaw forced his fur to lie flat; not all ThunderClan cats were as bloodthirsty as Tigerpaw had been. Besides, he didn’t think he was dealing with a fellow warrior apprentice. Blackpaw glanced back over to where Talltail was talking with the ThunderClan cat and Crookedjaw. “I didn’t know clerics could have more than one apprentice. He seems too young to be Goosefeather, though. Featherwhisker can take an apprentice?”

WindClan had only one cleric in Barkface, but he was a fairly young cat and seemed unhurried to take on an apprentice. It was odd to Blackpaw that ThunderClan would need three cats trained to be clerics. Perhaps their rivalry with RiverClan had been growing increasingly bitter.

“I’m not a cleric apprentice,” the other apprentice said, raising the end of the sentence so that it sounded more like a question. “That’s Thrushpelt, not Featherwhisker!”

“Then why—”

“I rub against herbs to disguise my scent sometimes. I’m Redpaw, by the way!” the tortoiseshell said in a rush.

Blackpaw blinked with sudden understanding. Doespring smelled strongly of rosemary or lavender at times, too, but he had never put any deeper meaning to it. “I’ve never thought about doing that before. But then, I don’t have much of an issue. I don’t really care what cats think of me.”

Redpaw dipped his head and licked his chest fur flat. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Blackpaw,” he meowed. He pointed with his muzzle to Talltail, who was still chatting with Thrushpelt and Crookedjaw. “That’s my father.”

“Talltail?” Redpaw’s amber eyes glimmered. “Ah, so you’re the kittypet.”

His heart dropped. Blackpaw had hoped those rumors hadn’t made it to the other Clans. He lashed his tail and turned away from Redpaw. Trust a ThunderClan cat to have an issue with kittypets! “I’m not a kittypet,” he bit out.  

“No, wait!” Redpaw said, scrambling to his paws as Blackpaw began to make his way towards where Mudpaw and Tornpaw were talking to a group of apprentices from other Clans. He caught up with Blackpaw easily, and the small WindClan apprentice huffed with annoyance. If the hollow hadn’t been so crowded, he probably could’ve left Redpaw in the dust. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Blackpaw looked back at Redpaw, who met his gaze with honesty in his amber eyes. Perhaps he had judged the other apprentice too quickly and too harshly. “Then why bring it up at all?”

As Redpaw opened his mouth to reply, Mudpaw and Tornpaw caught sight of them and waved their tails for Blackpaw to come over. They were sitting with a ShadowClan apprentice with white fur and black patches on his four paws, a gray tabby RiverClan molly, and a solid pale gray ThunderClan apprentice among others. With a glance at Redpaw, Blackpaw wove through a group of reminiscing elders and collided with brown tabby on the other side.

“Watch it, runt!”

The blood in Blackpaw’s veins turned to ice. He knew that voice. It had haunted his nights for moons. Paired with the insult that his littermates had thrown at him in the early days of his kithood, Blackpaw felt suddenly that nothing had changed at all. Like he was still a tiny tormented kit. Maybe it would have been better if he’d stayed at Talltail’s side for tonight.

But things had changed, Blackpaw thought with a sudden burst of anger. He was a WindClan apprentice now. He had attacked a fox! Blackpaw tried to find the courage he’d shown when protecting the kits.

Slowly he turned to meet Tigerpaw’s gaze. The ThunderClan tabby had grown even more massive since Blackpaw had last seen him. Those amber eyes flashed, looking exactly as they had before Tigerpaw had gone in for the kill a season ago. Blackpaw hid his distinctive white forepaw behind his other, and tried desperately to remember how to speak in the face of the cat that had nearly killed him.

“Well?” Tigerpaw demanded. “Talk! You’re an apprentice, aren’t you? Unless WindClan is bringing kits to Gatherings now.”

“Lay off him, Tigerclaw.” Redpaw had come to stand beside Blackpaw and lashed his mottled red tail. “It’s his first Gathering.”

One of the other ThunderClan apprentices sitting with Mudpaw and Tornpaw jumped to her paws, her pale silver pelt lying flat. She smiled at Tigerpaw—Tigerclaw, of course he was a warrior already—with saccharine sweetness and asked him, “Aren’t you supposed to be flirting with Leopardpaw?”

Tigerclaw turned his ire to the pretty ThunderClan apprentice. “I have more respect for the warrior code than that, Willowpaw.”  

“Then go respect the warrior code elsewhere,” Mudpaw spat, getting up slowly to his paws. Blackpaw hadn’t realized just how much Mudpaw had grown since he had joined WindClan. He had the typical build of a WindClan cat, long-limbed and slender, but he was more muscular than all the other apprentices. Any cat who didn’t know better would mistake him for a warrior. In battle, Mudpaw could easily be a formidable opponent against Tigerclaw. “The rest of us have a truce to uphold.”

“It’s a shame Heatherstar didn’t make you a warrior, Mudpaw,” Tigerclaw crooned.

Mudpaw’s fur bristled and he glanced at Blackpaw. The younger apprentice averted his gaze. Did Mudpaw already regret delaying his warrior ceremony? He had stuck to his claws in front of Shrewclaw’s criticism, but would that hold in front of the other Clans’ apprentices?

Seemingly satisfied at leaving Mudpaw with his final jibe, Tigerclaw turned and stalked in the direction of a group of young warriors.

“Don’t mind him,” Redpaw meowed, breaking the silence. “Tigerclaw’s only been a warrior for half a moon and he’s already acting like he’s deputy.”  

“He was made a warrior on the night of the new moon?” Mudpaw asked, scowling. “Doesn’t Sunstar know that a warrior ceremony taking place under a new moon could never be blessed by StarClan?”

“That’s just a harebrained WindClan superstition,” Willowpaw said with an impatient flick of her tail. “Tigerclaw’s just grumpy, but he wouldn’t harm any cat who wasn’t asking for it.”

Blackpaw looked at the content Willowpaw and felt like he was about to crack open like ice on the top of a thawing river. She had no idea how untrue her words were. I was a tiny kit who didn’t know any better, he wanted to say, and he almost killed me.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be deputy anyway,” the white ShadowClan apprentice with black paws muttered.

Tornpaw rolled his eyes and then turned to Blackpaw with a grin. He jerked his head to the white-furred ShadowClan tom. “Hey, Blackpaw, guess what this tail-licker’s name is?”  

A loud call from the Great Rock rang out through the hollow. The Clan cats’ chatter faded as all attention shifted from friendly conversation to the Clan leaders sitting at the Great Rock. Each of the four deputies sat below the rock underneath their respective leader.

Blackpaw couldn’t help noticing that the ThunderClan deputy, a light gray tabby tom by the name of Tawnyspots, looked old and frail under their vigorous leader Sunstar. Hailstar of RiverClan looked elderly too, but he hid it well with a sharp, intelligent stare. The ShadowClan leader Raggedstar, a huge dark brown tabby, seemed young and strong. He kept his narrowed amber gaze on Heatherstar.  Under the light of the full moon, Blackpaw realized for the first time that he could see the silver hairs of age on Heatherstar’s muzzle.

“Let us join together in peace under the stars of Silverpelt,” Hailstar declared, sweeping his tail over his forepaws. “The meeting of the Clans begins. I would like to start by announcing that RiverClan is enjoying a bountiful greenleaf.”

“Even without Sunningrocks?” jeered a ThunderClan warrior with a mottled brown pelt.

Sunstar glared down at his warrior, but Hailstar merely ignored the ThunderClan cat and continued, “StarClan blesses us with the river—”

“It’s the same old speech every time,” Tornpaw muttered under his breath.

“RiverClan thinks they’re so superior for not knowing hunger,” Redpaw agreed, whispering in Blackpaw’s ear. “They don’t know the power of want. That’s why they practically gave Sunningrocks to ThunderClan.”

“We have also made two new warriors in Blackclaw and Skyheart,” Hailstar ended, and cats from all four Clans welcomed the two newest RiverClan warriors by chanting their names. Even Redpaw, who had just been mocking RiverClan, was shouting the names joyfully beside Blackpaw. It was like they were one big Clan. Caught up in it all, Blackpaw found himself cheering for the two RiverClan warriors as well.

As Hailstar drew back, Sunstar stepped forward to make his report of the past moon. “It is at tonight’s Gathering that I announce the retirement of our cleric Goosefeather. He has served his Clan for many seasons and will now be moving to the elders’ den. ThunderClan hopes that he will be granted several seasons of rest before he joins our ancestors in StarClan. Featherwhisker is now our senior cleric, and has taken on Spottedpaw as an apprentice.”

“Spottedpaw is my other littermate,” Redpaw mewed, pointing with his muzzle to a pretty tortoiseshell a couple of fox-lengths away. The Clans had begun chanting her name, and she ducked her head humbly at the attention. “She’d been hoping for moons that Goosefeather would retire so that she could train under Featherwhisker as a cleric!”

“We also welcome a new warrior,” Sunstar said pointedly at Hailstar. “Tigerclaw.”

As they had with Blackclaw and Skyheart, the cats of all four Clans chanted Tigerclaw’s name. Blackpaw couldn’t bear to join along, feeling a sick twinge in his stomach. Redpaw noticed this and stopped his cheering. He gave Blackpaw a playful nudge, but the black-furred WindClan apprentice only turned his head away.

“Prey is abundant in the forest. ThunderClan is strong,” Sunstar finished.

Now it was Heatherstar’s turn to address the assembled cats. Her statement was brief: “Greenleaf has been kind to WindClan as well. Prey is plentiful on the moor, and Meadowslip informed me just this afternoon that she is expecting another litter of kits. Our nursery is full, and we are expecting new warriors and apprentices within the next moon.”

Meadowslip hadn’t joined the Gathering party, but a few cats from other Clans cheered her name anyway. Blackpaw looked around the gathered cats for Deadfoot and Sorrelshine, who were both from Meadowslip’s previous litter. Had they known that they would soon be welcoming younger siblings?

Heatherstar withdrew and Raggedstar took the place at the front of the Great Rock. Blackpaw knew little about Raggedstar—he had become the leader of ShadowClan when the previous leader Cedarstar died, shortly after Blackpaw had joined WindClan. While the two Clans had settled into a tentative peace, several WindClan warriors, Deadfoot among them, were convinced that it was only a matter of time before Raggedstar followed in his predecessor’s aggressive pawsteps.  

“Cats of all Clans,” began Raggedstar, “it is with great joy that I announce the birth of my own son, Brokenkit, to you. He was born a quarter moon ago, and already has the makings of a fine warrior.”

Murmurs of congratulations rose up from various cats of different Clans. It seemed that Raggedstar was not a very popular cat, but no one would dare insult a Clan leader by refusing to acknowledge the birth of his kit.

“ShadowClan has been enjoying the bounty of greenleaf as well,” Raggedstar continued. “My Clan grows ever stronger since the death of Cedarstar. Our stomachs are full and our claws are sharp.” He looked meaningfully at Heatherstar.

A low growl came up from some WindClan and ThunderClan warriors. They knew a veiled threat from ShadowClan when they heard it, but Heatherstar could not afford to call him on it. Raggedstar had not said anything direct. She narrowed her eyes and turned to the crowd of cats below the Great Rock. “If that is everything, then let us leave in peace.”

Heatherstar jumped down from the Great Rock, and the cats began to find their own Clanmates for the journey home. Spottedpaw, the cleric apprentice of ThunderClan, rushed over to her littermates Redpaw and Willowpaw with a gleam in her amber eyes. “Are you two ready to go?”

Redpaw and Willowpaw got to their paws and began to say their farewells to the other apprentices in the group. He felt a little sad to be saying goodbye to Redpaw. He liked the other cat, but there would be other Gatherings.

Redpaw grinned at Blackpaw. “It was good meeting you, Blackpaw! Safe travels.”

Willowpaw echoed her brother’s goodbye, and Spottedpaw set her heavy amber gaze on Blackpaw. He shifted his paws uncomfortably under the tortoiseshell molly’s knowing stare. He wanted to believe that it was just that all clerics were strange, but Barkface was incredibly down-to-earth. Spottedpaw dipped her head respectfully to him, and left without a word.

Blackpaw watched the ThunderClan apprentices leave. He felt another cat nudge his shoulder and startled. Blackpaw turned to his side to see Mudpaw and Tornpaw waiting for him. All the other apprentices had already gone back to their own Clans.  

“Come on,” Mudpaw said, and Blackpaw nodded.

Together the three apprentices rejoined the group of WindClan cats waiting for them at the top of the hill. The Gathering was over.  

Chapter Text

Days passed. There were no reports of unusual activity on their border with ShadowClan. The ShadowClan scent markers were clear and fresh, but nothing that would suggest aggressive movement to take part of WindClan’s side of the Thunderpath. Talk of Raggedstar’s vague threat at the Gathering soon faded away. Even so, Talltail was practicing caution by sending out an extra patrol to the Thunderpath each dawn and dusk.

Blackpaw returned to camp from one such border patrol with Deadfoot, Stagleap, Rabbitstep, and Sorrelshine. Again, their morning patrol had found nothing suspicious on the ShadowClan border. The warriors had decided on hunting through the return journey, and they brought home an impressive haul for the diminished prey-heap.

Cats were milling about in the midmorning sun, enjoying a lazy greenleaf day. Wrenflight had taken to the shade of a gorse bush that served as a wall for the camp, where she was grooming herself. Mudpaw and Ryestalk were sharing tongues on one side of the Hunting Stones; on the other, Pigeonflight was eating a rabbit with Bristlefeather. By the cleric’s den, Talltail was sharing tongues with Barkface.

Talltail noticed the patrol enter the camp and got to his paws. He said something to Barkface, who nodded, and then the Clan deputy turned to approach the patrol. Talltail gave Blackpaw a warm blink before looking to Sorrelshine. “Any news?”

Sorrelshine, the leader of their patrol, shook her head and continued walking towards the prey-heap. Talltail kept step with her until she set down her catch, a plump pigeon. Deadfoot, Blackpaw, Stagleap, and Rabbitstep followed suit. “The ShadowClan border remains silent. We marked the border and decided hunt on the way back.”

“Do you think that marking the border so often would aggravate ShadowClan?” Rabbitstep asked. “We only refreshed the markers just last night. Maybe Raggedstar is waiting for us to make a wrong move so he has an excuse to attack.”

Talltail nodded along thoughtfully. “I’ll discuss returning the patrols back to normal with Heatherstar. But we couldn’t trust Cedarstar more than a cornered badger. If Raggedstar is anything like his predecessor…”

Stagleap nodded with grave agreement to the Clan deputy’s words. “ShadowClan attacked us constantly under Cedarstar. We will enjoy Raggedstar’s peace for now, but we should not disregard him as a threat.”

Blackpaw shuffled his paws. He didn’t know if he should stay. His commentary as an apprentice was unnecessary, but he felt awkward about leaving without being dismissed. Luckily, Deadfoot broke into the conversation with his good humor.  

“Raggedstar is probably preoccupied with his son,” Deadfoot said with a teasing, knowing look at Talltail.

“That I won’t bring up with Heatherstar,” Talltail purred, giving his former apprentice a playful cuff on his ear. He dipped his head in a grateful dismissal to the patrol, and they wasted no time in taking fresh-kill from the prey-heap.

Blackpaw took the rabbit he had caught in case the queens and kits hadn’t had their breakfast yet. Stagleap chose the pigeon that Rabbitstep had caught and made his way over to Wrenflight, who startled as the dark brown tom dropped down beside her with the prey. She relaxed after a moment, giving Stagleap a lick on his ear.

Blackpaw turned to the nursery where Morningkit and Ashkit were playing moss-ball with each other outside. He glanced at Talltail and pointed over to them with his tail.

“Go and join your friends then,” said his father, giving Blackpaw an affectionate nudge with his muzzle. “I’ve already eaten my share this morning.”

As Blackpaw lugged his heavy rabbit over to the nursery, he realized that Appledawn’s three kits were nowhere to be seen. That was unusual. Normally Adderkit, Oatkit, and Peachkit clung to the two older kits like a burr to one’s pelt—much like Morningkit and Ashkit had done with him!

Blackpaw knew how desperate Morningkit and Ashkit were to leave the crowded den now that Meadowslip had moved into the nursery. Morningkit and Ashkit had grown a lot, and Appledawn’s three kits were no scraps either. When Meadowslip’s litter came, the nursery would be suffocating.

 Now that they were nearing apprentice age, Morningkit and Ashkit had nearly caught up with him in height. Blackpaw reminded himself that he still looked older; he had shed away much of his kit-fluff and he was slowly growing into his limbs. He’d always known that Morningkit and Ashkit would grow larger than him, but seeing it start to actually happen before they’d even become apprentices stung.

He dropped the rabbit at their feet and greeted, “Hey you two! Has Meadowslip eaten?”

“Yes, but we haven’t,” said Morningkit with a gleam in her eye. She dragged the rabbit closer to herself and tore into its flesh. “Want to share?”

Blackpaw had already eaten while out on patrol, but he didn’t want to leave them quite yet. He nodded and settled down in between the two sisters to pick at a couple of bites to eat. He realized that he was looking forward to sharing meals with them after a day of training. Heatherstar would be making them apprentices soon.   

“Pretty big rabbit,” Ashkit said, swallowing a mouthful. “Did you catch it?”

“Mm-hmm,” Blackpaw confirmed. “Deadfoot chased it right into my paws.”

Deadfoot didn’t need to be fast enough to catch the prey—just fast enough to be able to herd a rabbit into a Clanmate’s jaws. Blackpaw hadn’t yet been able to replicate his success in killing a rabbit on his own either, but he was still proud of today’s catch.

“I can’t wait to be an apprentice,” Morningkit said. She gave a longsuffering sigh and rolled around to her back, exposing her soft pale belly with a single patch of mottled tortoiseshell fur. “To get a chance to be free from those kits!”

“One would think you’re their mother, with how you’re complaining,” Blackpaw observed, and Morningkit gave him a light kick with her hind leg.

“Now we know how you felt when you were in the nursery,” Ashkit said. “We were such little brats getting you into trouble all the time.”

“Hey now, I get into trouble all on my own,” Blackpaw protested with a twitch of his whiskers. “Where are those three, anyway?”

“Appledawn and Plumclaw took them to the elders’ den,” Morningkit said, sitting back up. “Whiteberry was going to tell the story of him tunnelling under ShadowClan.”

“That’s an exciting one,” Blackpaw purred. He had spent a lot of time in the elders’ den listening to their stories with Ashkit and Morningkit while he’d been recovering from his infection. Blackpaw considered it the one good thing to come of his injury. Whiteberry in particular continued to tell the young apprentices and kits stories of his time as a tunneller. His tales only made Blackpaw’s claws itch to try going into the tunnels again.

A yowl sounded from the gorse tunnel. Every WindClan cat outside of a den looked up in alarm as Tornpaw tore through the entrance of camp, his gray tabby fur sticking up. He had been on a border patrol near the gorge with Cloudrunner, Hareflight, and Mistmouse. Talltail and Heatherstar were instantly on their paws, pushing through their Clanmates to get closer to Tornpaw. Mudpaw and Ryestalk glanced at one another and began to pad over to him as well.

“RiverClan!” Tornpaw yelled. He took a moment to catch his breath, as though he had been racing here from the border without rest. “RiverClan is at the border!”

Morningkit and Ashkit’s pelts raised with fright. WindClan and RiverClan had been at peace for many moons, and no cat in the camp could understand the sudden antagonization. If anything, tensions at the Gathering a few days ago had been between RiverClan and ThunderClan.

Blackpaw forgot the meal and gave each of his friends a comforting lick before he joined the crowd forming around Tornpaw.

“Is it an attack?” Heatherstar demanded to know.

Tornpaw frowned. “I’m not sure, but Hailstar and Crookedjaw were there with many warriors. I didn’t count them. Cloudrunner sent me back for reinforcements immediately.”

“Three warriors against a full battle patrol wouldn’t last a chance if RiverClan decided to attack,” Talltail said, looking like he was a whisker away from dashing out of camp to help the patrol by himself.

Tornpaw shook his head angrily. “I came across Shrewclaw’s hunting patrol near the abandoned badger set. They went to help. I tried to find Sorrelshine’s patrol too but they weren’t around.”

“Because we’ve been back for ages, feather-brain!” Blackpaw said, clawing anxiously at the grass.

“Hush.” Heatherstar flicked her ear and turned to Talltail. “How many cats were on Shrewclaw’s hunting patrol?”

“Four, including him,” Talltail replied. “Hickorynose, Doespring, and Aspenfall.”

Heatherstar nodded gravely and yowled to the Clan, “WindClan! I will lead a battle patrol for reinforcements to the RiverClan border! I will take Redclaw, Woollytail, Pigeonflight, Dawnstripe, Rabbitstep, Mudpaw, and Blackpaw.”

Blackpaw lit up with excitement at his name being called, but Talltail tensed. He glanced at Blackpaw with uncertainty and asked so softly that Blackpaw had to strain to hear, “Heatherstar, are you sure about taking Blackpaw? His injury—”

“Is fully healed,” Heatherstar finished, fixing her deputy with a cold blue stare. “Tornpaw has done enough for us this morning. Do you want him to race across our territory a second time? Blackpaw is strong and has had enough training by now to fare well in battle.”  

Properly chastised, Talltail dipped his head to his leader, though his amber eyes flashed with worry.

Heatherstar raised her voice again to address the entire Clan. “Talltail will stay here with the rest of our warriors in case our camp needs defending. We will send word if we need more reinforcements.” She flicked her tail to signal for all of her chosen cats to get to their paws. Their leader closed her eyes and raised her face up to the cloudless morning sky, and fell into prayer. “Let StarClan grant us swift paws to reach our Clanmates, courage to face this battle, and the skill needed to defeat our enemies.”  

“By the will of StarClan,” the entire Clan beseeched to the sky.

Heatherstar lowered her head and straightened her shoulders. She jerked her head and all of the cats she had chosen for the battle party went into formation. Blackpaw took a couple of steps forward to take his place beside Mudpaw near the back of the party, but he felt a light nip on his tail and whirled around to face Talltail’s blazing eyes.

His father was nearly impossible to read. Talltail’s white-patched black pelt was fluffed up with dread, his long tail lashing. But there was a gleam of pride there in his eyes, too.

“What?” Blackpaw whispered with an irritated scowl. Talltail had only just objected to Heatherstar about Blackpaw joining the party. Was he going to try to convince Blackpaw not to take part in this battle, too?

“You stay near Dawnstripe or Woollytail, do you understand?” Talltail demanded. “This is the second time I’m not with you when you go off to fight. Be safe. Please.”

Blackpaw softened instantly. He touched noses with his father. “I’ll be fine.”

Then he turned back and took his place beside Mudpaw, following their leader through the gorse tunnel and out of the camp.

Heatherstar paused at the top of the rise overlooking the gorge for a moment. Blackpaw’s felt a flash of fury at the sight of the battling cats before him. RiverClan far outnumbered WindClan’s small border patrol, even with the addition of the morning hunting party that Tornpaw had located. Shrewclaw and Cloudrunner were both fighting two cats at once. Hickorynose was wrestling with Crookedjaw. The RiverClan deputy was nearly twice the senior warrior’s size, but Hickorynose whipped around and sank his teeth into Crookedjaw’s shoulder. Hareflight and Mistmouse were fighting side-by-side with the new RiverClan warriors, Blackclaw and Skyheart.

The RiverClan warriors were slowly driving the WindClan cats away from the gorge deeper into moorland, but Heatherstar had brought more than enough cats with her to match with them. The WindClan leader looked at the wrestling mass of warriors with narrowed eyes, as though searching for a specific cat. Blackpaw followed her gaze and saw Hailstar exchanging blows with Aspenfall.

 Heatherstar threw her head back and let out a shrill war cry.

The reinforcements launched themselves down at the RiverClan invaders as one. Blackpaw kept pace with Mudpaw beside him. Dawnstripe was at his other side, glancing at him to make sure he didn’t fall behind. He wouldn’t.

“Try to find an apprentice,” Mudpaw puffed from beside him. “This is your first battle, remember.”

He didn’t have time to respond to Mudpaw. The WindClan cats collided with the RiverClan battle party like two waves clashing together. Blackpaw lunged at a golden spotted tabby that he remembered seeing at the Gathering. Leopardpaw, he remembered her name was.  

She had Doespring pinned and was raking her back claws over the light brown molly’s back. Blackpaw knocked into Leopardpaw and clawed into her sleek pelt with a growl. She lashed out and landed a heavy blow to his head. He scrambled back to clear his head, but he was engaged in battle now, and Leopardpaw would not let him leave so easily.

“Hailstar!” Blackpaw heard Heatherstar’s furious snarl, but he did not dare look and give Leopardpaw an advantage. “How dare you attack my warriors without cause!”

He didn’t get to hear Hailstar’s response because Leopardpaw launched herself at Blackpaw and bowled him over. He twisted around in her grip and ripped his back claws into her soft underbelly. She hissed with pain, but only held on tighter. Blackpaw let out a desperate cry. He had lost Dawnstripe, Mudpaw, and even Doespring in the fray.

Suddenly Leopardpaw’s weight lifted. Shrewclaw batted the RiverClan apprentice away like a mouse and curled his lip at realizing just which WindClan cat had been under Leopardpaw’s grasp.

“Of course Heatherstar brought the kittypet,” Shrewclaw spat at him. “It’s not enough that you’re soft. You have to turn my sons soft too, don’t you?”

Limbs shaking with fury, Blackpaw turned away from the brown tabby warrior. It wasn’t worth it to claw Shrewclaw’s fur off during a battle with an enemy Clan. He looked around the battlefield to see if any cat needed his help. Many of the RiverClan cats had been chased off, but there were still WindClan cats fighting with their enemies. Dawnstripe was wrestling with a dark gray RiverClan cat, and Heatherstar and Hailstar were locked in a tangle of tooth and claw.

He spotted Woollytail exchanging blows with a ginger-and-white RiverClan molly. She lunged at him. Woollytail side-stepped her and rammed his head into her flank. Blackpaw dove in to help drive her away. He sank his teeth into her hind leg and she growled. She kicked him away and turned to swipe at his face.

Blackpaw ducked, and the RiverClan warrior’s claws missed him by a whisker. Woollytail grabbed the molly’s scruff between his teeth and pulled her away from Blackpaw.

“No!” A cry from Mistmouse cut through the din. Blackpaw, Woollytail, and many of the other cats stopped their fighting short and glanced over to where the light brown molly. Mistmouse stared down the gorge, her pelt fluffed with terror. “Hickorynose!”

She looked back up to the nearest RiverClan cat, Blackclaw, a smoky black tom. He had scrambled away from the edge of the gorge, his orange eyes wide with shock. Mistmouse’s mournful howl turned into an infuriated snarl and she crouched down, preparing to attack. “You killed him!”

“Stop, Mistmouse,” Heatherstar ordered. She and Hailstar had broken free of each other. The WindClan leader’s shoulder was bleeding, but she paid it no mind as she glared at Hailstar. “Your attack was unjustified and cruel. It should be one of your cats that fell down the gorge.”

Hailstar narrowed his eyes at this, but said nothing.

“Leave now, before we take a RiverClan life to even the damage,” Heatherstar said icily. She flicked her tail, and the WindClan cats padded up to surround her, snarling and spitting at the remaining RiverClan warriors. Blackpaw found himself with Mudpaw on one side and Woollytail on the other, ready to charge out again if Heatherstar gave the order.

Hailstar hissed and turned away with a lash of his tail. “Come, RiverClan.”

The WindClan cats did not move a single muscle as they watched RiverClan retreat.

As the RiverClan warriors disappeared into the trees, Woollytail’s shoulders slumped with grief. Blackpaw remembered that Hickorynose had been a tunneller. No matter what anger Woollytail had felt for Hickorynose at refusing to help maintain the tunnels, they had to have been close once. Woollytail looked down at Blackpaw and closed his eyes painfully. His voice was so soft that only Blackpaw could hear it. “I will do it. I will teach you.”

Chapter Text

The body of Hickorynose was lost to the gorge. Pigeonflight crept closer to the edge of the gorge in shocked silence and peered down into the turbulent waters. Mistmouse and Doespring padded up to settle by the young warrior. Doespring’s tail ran lightly across Pigeonflight’s flank as though to console him, but Mistmouse sat a few mouse-lengths away from the two other cats, her head bowed.

Little by little, the rest of the patrol joined the three cats at the edge. Rabbitstep pressed against Pigeonflight’s other side and murmured something to him in his ear, too low for Blackpaw to hear. Blackpaw kept a respectful distance away from Pigeonflight, instead focusing on the roiling waters below. Mudpaw and a few of the senior warriors stayed with him.

The sun was beating down on him, but Blackpaw still shivered as he thought of Hickorynose’s fate. Dawnstripe pressed her cheek against Blackpaw’s and asked softly if he was all right. He could only shrug. He hadn’t seen Hickorynose fall over the edge, and he had never interacted much with the former tunneller. But Blackpaw was having a hard time grasping that he would never see Hickorynose in camp again. 

“It’ll probably wash up in RiverClan land,” Aspenfall rasped with a grim shake of his head.  

Finally, the loss seemed to dawn onto Pigeonflight, and he let out a choked wail. “He’s gone! Hickorynose is gone!”

“Should we try to recover his body?” Rabbitstep asked, frowning doubtfully down at the frothing river below. With her eyes she followed the flow of the river until it curved into the distance.

Pigeonflight looked at Rabbitstep with betrayal flaring in his green eyes. “We have to!” He turned his gaze desperately to Heatherstar. “We have to get it, don’t we? He deserves a proper burial.”

“RiverClan might find the body and bury it themselves,” Doespring said. She gave her fawn-colored coat a shake. “They’re just as bound by the warrior code as we are. They wouldn’t leave a warrior to be picked on by scavengers!”

“Even one from an enemy Clan?” Hareflight challenged, and Shrewclaw growled lowly with agreement.

“It is the warrior code,” Dawnstripe meowed. Her soothing voice did nothing to ease the grieving warriors. “Hickorynose died honorably.”

Mistmouse curled her lip into a snarl. “But RiverClan’s actions today were far from honorable. They killed him, Dawnstripe. Why would they bury our dead warrior?”

“We should go to their camp and demand that those fox-hearts give us his body back,” Redclaw growled.

“Heatherstar?” Woollytail turned to their leader.

Heatherstar had come to stand beside the distraught Pigeonflight. She looked down into the churning river with eyes narrowed to a slit. “We will go home without him. We can’t afford to take RiverClan on their own territory—yet,” she added as Pigeonflight let out a cry of protest. Heatherstar brushed her tail against his flank and spoke softly to the young gray-furred warrior, “Barkface and I will conduct the proper mourning rituals tonight. Hickorynose will be welcomed by StarClan whether we have his body or not.”

“What will I tell Meadowslip and my littermates?” Pigeonflight asked, his voice cracking with grief.

Heatherstar shook her head. “I will tell them, Pigeonflight. Meadowslip must be told delicately. The stress could endanger the kits.”

“Let me tell Deadfoot and Sorrelshine, at least,” Pigeonflight said. He took a deep breath and seemed to collect himself. “They should hear it from me.”

Reluctantly Heatherstar nodded in agreement. “Very well.”

“Why did RiverClan even attack?” Mudpaw asked, flexing his claws with frustration. “We’ve done nothing to provoke them.”

“We never do anything to provoke any Clan,” Mistmouse snorted. “That doesn’t stop them from nipping at our heels.”

Blackpaw lashed his tail. He was as angry about the attack as the rest of his Clanmates, but perhaps the invasion wasn’t as unexpected as it seemed. “At the Gathering, Redpaw of ThunderClan said that RiverClan gave Sunningrocks to ThunderClan without a fight. Maybe RiverClan wanted to show their strength in case WindClan got any ideas.”

Heatherstar appraised Blackpaw with narrowed blue eyes. “Well-put, Blackpaw. I suspect that’s exactly what’s behind Hailstar’s mind.”

“Hailstar mentioned that he wanted to take over our part of the gorge,” Cloudrunner meowed. The senior warrior had been the leader of the original border patrol that had first encountered the invading RiverClan cats. “But RiverClan didn’t put any scent markers inland.”

“Regardless, we will have to redirect our attention to this border, not ShadowClan,” Heatherstar sighed. She paused for a moment to survey her warriors, as though searching for the cats with the most minor injuries. “Shrewclaw, Hareflight, Redclaw, and Cloudrunner, go and refresh our border markers. I want a marker on every tail-length of the RiverClan border.”

“That’ll take the rest of the day!” Shrewclaw protested.

“And is it wise?” Redclaw added doubtfully. “RiverClan will think they’ve spooked us.”

Heatherstar bared her teeth. “I don’t see it that way. If RiverClan wants aggression, we will respond in kind.”

While Woollytail and Dawnstripe looked unconvinced, Cloudrunner and Aspenfall nodded with agreement to their leader. Mistmouse looked satisfied with Heatherstar’s decision as well, tearing at clumps of grass with her claws like she was imagining ripping them into RiverClan fur.

“Let’s head home now,” Heatherstar meowed. “There is nothing else left for us to do here.”

 .

The warriors that had stayed in camp crowded around the returning battle party. Barkface had settled down outside his den with Tornpaw at his side, different piles of herbs at their feet. Bristlefeather rushed forward to touch noses with Pigeonflight, but the grieving warrior flinched away from his friend.

Talltail greeted the returning cats, looking relieved to see Blackpaw relatively unscathed. He touched his father’s nose but Blackpaw still felt unbalanced by all that had happened today. Woollytail had finally agreed to teach him how to tunnel, but the price had been Hickorynose’s life. Blackpaw wasn’t sure how to feel about all of it. Worse still was that Blackpaw couldn’t confide in anyone about it. Except perhaps… He remembered Plumclaw’s sharp gaze when he had brought home that mole.

Talltail quickly caught onto the grim air surrounding the patrol and noticed their heavy step. “What happened?”

Heatherstar’s tail brushed the flank of her deputy as she passed, shaking her head. “Mistmouse,” she ordered, “give the report of the battle to Talltail.”

Then the leader made her way to the nursery. Talltail dazedly looked to Mistmouse as the rest of the battle patrol splintered apart. Some cats decided to head to Barkface right away, but others still were hesitant to approach anyone. Blackpaw himself merely stood by Mudpaw. He didn’t think his wounds were serious and he wanted desperately to go to Plumclaw’s side. Was she still in the elders’ den with Appledawn’s kits? Blackpaw looked over to see Pigeonflight dragging his feet over to the elders’ den, where Deadfoot and Sorrelshine were guarding the entrance.

He wouldn’t dare approach now. Pigeonflight needed all the privacy he could get with his littermates.

Blackpaw took a second look at the nursery to see Plumclaw and Wrenflight standing outside, as though they had also been on guard. Morningkit and Ashkit were with their mother and quickly stood at attention as Heatherstar approached the nursery; it was rare that the WindClan leader paid a visit to the nursery, and they must have believed that she was dropping by to check in on when they would be ready to become apprentices. They stared after her with devastating confusion as the WindClan leader passed by them without a cursory glance.

A moment later, Appledawn nosed her three kits out of the nursery. Peachkit scampered at the lead with her tail held high, her rosy-ginger tabby coat a copy of her mother’s. Not to be outdone, her brother Oatkit pounced on Ashkit, who shook him off and snapped at the young brown tabby. The third kit, Adderkit, hung back with their mother. Morningkit pointed over to the Hunting Stones with her muzzle, and Appledawn nodded and began to herd her kits there.  

Ashkit and Morningkit waited until Appledawn had reached the Hunting Stones with her kits before they padded over to Blackpaw and Mudpaw. Wrenflight followed a few paces behind them, leaving Plumclaw to stand alone outside of the nursery. Relief flooded Blackpaw at the sight of his friends approaching, and he rushed to meet Wrenflight with a lick to her cheek.

The young tabby molly rasped her tongue against his ear. “I take it the battle didn’t go too well.”

“We won.” Blackpaw pulled away from Wrenflight, but she seemed unconvinced. So did the kits.  

“What happened?” Ashkit pushed.

“Hickorynose died,” Mudpaw responded quietly. “He fell off the gorge.”

Morningkit’s eyes widened. “Plumclaw will be upset. They were tunnellers together. Is that why Heatherstar is going to the nursery?”

Blackpaw nodded. “She wanted to tell Meadowslip privately. Pigeonflight is telling Deadfoot and Sorrelshine.”

A wail came from the nursery, and the young cats flinched. Already Pigeonflight, Deadfoot, and Sorrelshine were scrambling over to the nursery to comfort their mother. Plumclaw had already slipped inside the nursery, and Blackpaw felt a pang. How could he expect to confide in Plumclaw when she was grieving for her friend?

“Poor Meadowslip,” Ashkit mewed. She turned to Blackpaw. “Do you think Deadfoot will take you out for training tomorrow?”

“I won’t expect him to,” Blackpaw said. What Deadfoot must be feeling? He tried to imagine Talltail dying and the dread nearly overwhelmed him. Instantly he banished the thought away. “I’ll let him mourn.”

Mudpaw got to his paws. “I’m going to—” He waved with his tail over to where Barkface and Tornpaw were treating Doespring and Aspenfall, and Blackpaw nodded with understanding. He’d better get his wounds checked too, though Blackpaw suspected Mudpaw’s desire to go to his uncle and his brother had less to do with any injuries and more to do with a need for family.

“We’ll talk later,” Blackpaw promised his friends, and made to follow Mudpaw.

“Wait,” Wrenflight called, and Blackpaw paused to look over his shoulder. “Are you all right, Blackpaw?”   

“I’m—” Blackpaw hadn’t had a response for Dawnstripe earlier, and he was just as lost on how to respond now. “I didn’t see him fall.”

But a cat died.

No call was needed to summon all the Clan’s cats, but Heatherstar still cried out, “All cats old enough to catch their own prey, join here beneath the Tallrock for a Clan meeting.”

All eyes turned to their leader on the top of the Tallrock. The first warriors of StarClan were peeking out from behind the clouds. It had been many hours since the battle, and news of Hickorynose’s demise had spread throughout the camp like fire. Cloudrunner, Shrewclaw, Redclaw, and Hareflight had returned from their mission with prey, but many cats had seemed to have lost their appetites.

The former tunnellers, Mistmouse, Woollytail, and Plumclaw had all huddled together in grief for their fallen comrade. Deadfoot with sitting with his family, and Mudpaw had not left Tornpaw’s side since he and Blackpaw had gone to get their wounds treated. Talltail, of course, sat at the base of the Tallrock. With no one else to turn to, Blackpaw sat with Wrenflight and Stagleap near the back of the crowd.  

“WindClan, as you know, RiverClan attacked us today in a gross display of their strength,” Heatherstar began. “Hailstar claims to have wanted to claim our side of the gorge for his territory, but I know the truth. They are humiliated by their acquiescence to ThunderClan’s bid for Sunningrocks, and are looking to expand elsewhere.”

“They should take it up with ThunderClan, not us!” Ryestalk meowed from where she sat by her sons.

“Indeed,” Heatherstar agreed. “Hickorynose was lost to us this afternoon. This breach of the warrior code is not something I am prepared to take lightly. I will send out a patrol to the RiverClan camp tomorrow morning to demand justice.” Murmurs of agreement began to rise from the assembled cats, but Heatherstar waved her tail for silence. “But for tonight we must mourn Hickorynose.”

She turned expectantly to Barkface, who stood up. In his jaws he carried the stems of blooming rosemary and lavender. He passed Meadowslip and her family, quietly setting down a single stem at each cat’s feet. Then he moved onto where Plumclaw and the former tunnellers stood together and gave them each a stem.

When Barkface had finished passing out the rosemary and lavender to the two groups of mourners, he cleared his throat. The cleric sat at the base of the Tallrock, a few tail-lengths away from Talltail, and bowed his head. “It is never easy to lose a Clanmate. It is a cleric’s duty to rub the oils of rosemary and lavender onto a cat’s body to mask the death-scent.” Barkface heaved a sigh. “Harder still is when we must mourn without a body. Though we do not have Hickorynose’s body, we still grieve and place his spirit into the care of StarClan.”

At the cleric’s words, Meadowslip shakily got to her paws. Blackpaw had never seen the mourning rituals for a cat, and he watched silently next to Wrenflight.

“I have given the cats closest to Hickorynose the flowers of rosemary and lavender for remembrance and devotion,” Barkface continued, with a sympathetic look to the grieving family. “Hickorynose is no longer with us, but we will remember him with love always.”

Heatherstar picked up the ritual from Barkface now. “He was a brave and loyal warrior, a loving father, and a steadfast mate to Meadowslip.” She nodded to the pregnant gray queen.

Meadowslip took the lavender flower at her feet into her jaws and crossed to the middle of the camp. The crowd parted for her as she set down the flower and took a step back. She looked up at the glittering stars of Silverpelt, her amber eyes brimming with emotion.

“I could not have asked for a more devoted mate and father than Hickorynose. He blessed me with perfect kits. Deadfoot, Pigeonflight, and Sorrelshine are my pride and joys. But more than that, he was my friend. He made me laugh. He was there for my struggles.” Her voice crackled. “I can’t believe I have to raise our next litter without him.” She lowered her head.

Next came Deadfoot. He set his rosemary down beside Meadowslip’s lavender and rasped, “Hickorynose was a great father. He never wavered in his support of me, and he never treated me any differently because of my paw.” He glared around the assembled cats, as if to dare anyone to disagree. Then he deflated. Blackpaw had never seen his easy-going mentor look so devastated. “I’ll miss him.”

After Deadfoot went Sorrelshine, and then Pigeonflight. Then went the former tunnellers. They all huddled around each other, ready for their vigil. Once every cat had placed their flower in the middle of camp, Barkface went to stand by the grieving cats.

He raised his gaze up to StarClan.  “Goodbye, Hickorynose. May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.”

Chapter Text

It was sunhigh of the next day, and the pile of rosemary and lavender from last night’s mourning ritual had been cleared away at dawn. Heatherstar and Talltail stood in the center of the camp. Some of the senior warriors were together in a semi-circle around the leader and deputy, discussing the patrol that would head to RiverClan later in the day.

Blackpaw had just returned from foraging for marigold. Deadfoot had kept his mourning vigil for Hickorynose all night, and Blackpaw had wanted to give his mentor some space. He could see Deadfoot now, curled up with his littermates in the shade of a gorse bush to block out the sun as they slept. They looked peaceful, and Blackpaw wondered if Barkface had given them poppy seeds to ease them into sleep.

 He hadn’t wanted to intrude on Deadfoot, but he felt the need to do something with his morning. Gathering herbs for Barkface had given Blackpaw something worthwhile to do as he missed a day of training.

“I want you with me when we go to RiverClan,” Heatherstar told Talltail as Blackpaw passed her and the crowd of warriors on his way to Barkface’s den. “It is of the utmost importance that Hailstar sees that we are not taking this violation lightly. StarClan will see WindClan’s cry for justice.”

“This won’t be a peaceful patrol then?” asked Hareflight.

“We are to show that WindClan is not so easily cowed,” Heatherstar replied, her voice as hard as rock. “But any fighting that breaks out will be the fault of RiverClan.”

Blackpaw left the group of senior warriors behind and slipped into the burrow where Barkface made his den. The cleric was quietly organizing his herbs. He looked up with a start when Blackpaw cleared his throat.

Barkface’s amber eyes cleared as he recognized the small apprentice, and he purred as he noticed the giant clump of marigold between Blackpaw’s jaws. “You’ve brought back tons!” He directed Blackpaw to lay them in a pile near the back of the den. “Aspenfall got a nasty scratch at yesterday’s battle. If today’s patrol doesn’t go well…”

“Heatherstar is going to RiverClan in peace,” Blackpaw said.

“She’s planning on taking a large patrol,” Barkface pointed out. The cleric pawed at a pile of burdock root. Blackpaw remembered burdock root too well from his fox injury, and he shuddered at the memory of the moon he’d spent here in Barkface’s den. Barkface sighed. “RiverClan could take that as a threat, and our warriors be very disadvantaged on their territory. We’re not cats for swimming.”

Blackpaw lashed his tail, thinking of his conversation with Redpaw at the Gathering. “Neither are ThunderClan cats, but RiverClan didn’t fight back when they sent a threatening patrol to their camp.”

“We aren’t ThunderClan,” said Barkface with a shake of his head.

“We have more warriors than ThunderClan,” Blackpaw said, getting heated. “And we have StarClan on our side.”

“Do we?” Barkface’s long white whiskers twitched.

Blackpaw frowned at Barkface’s apparent amusement. “Well, who’s side would they be on? RiverClan killed Hickorynose.”

“The death of Hickorynose,” Barkface meowed, his voice level, “was an unfortunate accident. Many cats have died in the gorge. I’m not so naïve to think that StarClan chooses sides between the petty squabbles of Clan life.”

“Forget about StarClan, then,” Blackpaw said. He didn’t understand why Barkface was so determined to separate himself from WindClan’s conflicts. Wasn’t Barkface upset about the invasion at all? “Hickorynose wouldn’t have died yesterday if not for RiverClan’s invasion.”

“No,” Barkface agreed, pausing to turn and give his shoulder a few good licks. When he looked back to Blackpaw, he seemed to realize the young apprentice’s concerns. “I grieve for Hickorynose like any WindClan cat. I suppose I’m only concerned for Heatherstar. Confronting RiverClan in their own camp like this is unlike her.”

Blackpaw shrugged. “It’s not like we’re launching an ambush.”

“Launch an ambush for RiverClan? Is that what you would do?”

“Maybe!” Blackpaw raised his chin.

Barkface let out a roaring purr and gave Blackpaw a light nudge with his muzzle. “Remind me not to cross you!”

Heatherstar’s summons rang through the camp. Blackpaw and Barkface shared a glance and both of them slipped out of the cleric’s den. Already the senior warriors had gathered below the Tallrock. Younger warriors, the elders, and Plumclaw and Appledawn joined them. Meadowslip was nowhere to be seen, but she was presumably still in the nursery.

Blackpaw looked around and found Deadfoot, who had gotten up from his nap. He was dragging himself to the meeting, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Pigeonflight and Sorrelshine looked just as exhausted, but they were making their way over to the nursery instead, as though they didn’t want to take part. Blackpaw took an unthinking step forward, towards his mentor, then stopped, flattening his ears. He didn’t know what he could say to Deadfoot.

“Go to him,” Barkface said kindly, nodding to the black-furred warrior.

Blackpaw tore at a clump of grass with his claws. “I don’t know.”

“Deadfoot is your mentor. He cares for you.” The cleric blinked down at Blackpaw and promised, “Your presence will be enough.”

Mind made for him, Blackpaw picked his way toward Deadfoot. He was surprised to hear his mentor let out a low purr as he settled down beside him.

“Blackpaw.” Deadfoot’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Sorry I couldn’t take you out this morning.”

“You’re sorry?” Blackpaw choked out with bewilderment, before realizing that might not be the best response. “Er, don’t worry about me,” he assured his mentor. “Barkface had me gathering marigold.”

Deadfoot looked genuinely relieved that Blackpaw hadn’t been abandoned that morning, and Blackpaw gave his mentor a comforting lick on his shoulder.

“WindClan!” Heatherstar cried from atop the Tallrock. Her tail lashed from behind her, betraying her fury. “Last night I promised you that I would be sending a patrol to RiverClan’s camp to seek justice for Hickorynose’s death. I will be leading that patrol myself.”

“What will we ask RiverClan for?” Ryestalk asked.  

“I would be happy to receive Hickorynose’s body so that we may bury him here in our territory where he belongs,” Heatherstar meowed. “However, in the case that RiverClan has not found his body, or if they have already buried him on their land, I will demand that RiverClan gives us hunting rights up to the Twoleg bridge.”  

“We should ask for both,” Shrewclaw growled. “And give them a clawing for good measure!”

Mistmouse, Aspenfall, and Bristlefeather all murmured their agreement with Shrewclaw. Rabbitstep and Wrenflight glanced at each other uncertainly, as though they weren’t sure that going to war over the death of a single cat was worth it.

“I do not intend for this to be a battle patrol,” Heatherstar said. “But this will be a show of our strength. We will not be intimidated by RiverClan invasions or ShadowClan threats. If there is to be a battle today, the blame will fall on RiverClan for attacking a grieving Clan asking for reparations.”

That seemed to settle some of the more hesitant cats. Blackpaw looked up at Heatherstar with a faint spark of admiration. He had never seen this cunning side of his leader before, and it fascinated him.

“I need a large patrol of strong warriors,” Heatherstar mused. “Stagleap. Dawnstripe. Ryestalk. Bristlefeather. Tornpaw. Wrenflight. Cloudrunner. Mistmouse. And—”

Deadfoot jumped to his paws. “Heatherstar. I wish to go.”

Shock flashed through the leader’s face, but she controlled it quickly. When Heatherstar spoke, her voice was gentle in addressing the grieving warrior, “Are you certain, Deadfoot? You do not need to return to duties so soon. Allow yourself to mourn.”

“I want to be there,” Deadfoot said, raising his chin as though challenging his leader. He lifted his twisted forepaw and scowled. “Unless you don’t think I’m a strong enough warrior?”

“She’d never,” Talltail said fiercely to his former apprentice. The deputy glanced up at Heatherstar from where he sat at the base of the Tallrock. “Let him come. I can tell he needs this.”

“Very well.” She narrowed her eyes. “Bring Blackpaw too.”

Surprise surged through Blackpaw’s body. He was to go on the patrol? Only yesterday he’d been chosen to go into battle, and now Heatherstar wanted him on the patrol into the RiverClan camp. Blackpaw had never imagined that he would be chosen to go on this mission.

“That’s settled then,” Heatherstar continued. “I will be bringing Talltail along with us. I want to show RiverClan just how seriously I am taking this. Redclaw, until we return, I am leaving you in charge of camp.”

“You can rely on me,” Redclaw vowed.

“Good. We are leaving immediately.” Heatherstar gave Redclaw a small nod and jumped down from the Tallrock. The crowd parted for her as she prowled towards the gorse tunnel. The lilac gray molly swished her tail, and her patrol followed her out of the camp.

.

No RiverClan cats were at the border. Heatherstar briefly swept her gaze across the land and flicked her tail for her patrol to fall in behind her. Talltail kept pace with the WindClan leader, and the rest of the cats fanned out behind them as they crossed into RiverClan’s territory. The landscape of the moors was gradually giving way to forest, and Blackpaw’s senses buzzed at the scents and sights of unfamiliar prey. There! By that stream, the nose of a water vole poked out from under a leaf.

Beside him, Deadfoot nudged him along. “Remember, we mustn’t hunt here. This isn’t our territory.”

Not yet, anyway! Blackpaw thought, but he nodded. It would do no good to antagonize RiverClan further by hunting on their grounds before Heatherstar had even made WindClan’s demands known.

On his other side, Tornpaw licked his lips as though he were also thinking of giving chase to the prey, but he rejoined the patrol without a word. They would give no reason for RiverClan to accuse them of breaking the warrior code.

It was not long before they reached the Twoleg bridge that RiverClan used to cross the river for Gatherings. Water here was calmer than right underneath the gorge, but it still rushed below the bridge. Blackpaw could see the faint figures of cats downstream, fishing or playing in the water.

“Do you know where the RiverClan camp is?” he asked Tornpaw quietly, looking away from the edge of the bridge.

Tornpaw shook his head. “All I know is that it’s on an island.”

Blackpaw’s eyes widened. A memory came to him unbidden, of Ruby sneering that the housefolk would drown him in the river if no one took him home. He remembered Socks pushing him onto the ground and keeping his head down, as though giving him a demonstration of just how Blackpaw—then Tiny—could expect his drowning to go. His throat tightened. He hadn’t thought about his littermates in moons. But the pain and fear they’d left him with still followed. Blackpaw swallowed down his hurt. “Will we have to swim?”

“The water that surrounds the camp is very shallow,” Wrenflight assured, keeping her voice quiet as the patrol stepped off of the Twoleg bridge and headed further into RiverClan territory.

Blackpaw followed the cues of the more experienced warriors and kept his ears low in enemy land. The earth here was much softer than the firm, dry ground of the moors. He took a step and his forepaw sunk into the soil. Blackpaw jumped back, fur bristling. Tornpaw shared an amused glance with Stagleap, but Wrenflight only twitched her tail-tip and gave him an apologetic smile.

He shook himself and continued onwards with the rest of the patrol, pulling up to pad behind Talltail. Deadfoot had caught up with Blackpaw and kept quietly at his apprentice’s side.

His father glanced behind his shoulder to see Blackpaw forging through the wet forest floor. A purr rumbled in Talltail’s throat. “Are you taking notice of your surroundings, Blackpaw?”

“A little too much,” he muttered, shaking off the mud from his claws.

“The RiverClan camp is near,” Talltail promised.

Through some of the trees, Blackpaw could see a trickling stream. Before they could reach it, an angry cry stopped the WindClan patrol in their tracks. “Intruders!”

Without thinking, Blackpaw felt his fur bristle with alarm.

“Keep your fur flat,” Deadfoot whispered.  

While Blackpaw forced his pelt to lay flat, the leader of the RiverClan patrol appeared from behind the trees. A reddish-brown tom was at the head of a small patrol of RiverClan cats, all smelling strongly of freshly caught fish. They must have been a hunting patrol returning to their island camp.

The leader of RiverClan’s hunting patrol stopped a few tail-lengths from Heatherstar, his pelt fluffed up and his green eyes wary. “Heatherstar. What are you doing here so deep into RiverClan’s territory?”

“Good afternoon, Oakheart,” Heatherstar said, dipping her head politely to the RiverClan warrior. “I wish for no bloodshed today. I merely want an audience with your leader. Would you take us to your camp?”  

“You don’t want bloodshed,” Oakheart meowed, barely concealing his outrage, “yet you bring along with you an entire battle patrol?”

“I want words with Hailstar,” Heatherstar snapped. “Either take me to your camp or bring him to me. I am not leaving RiverClan land until I’ve spoken with your coward of a leader.”

That seemed to strike a nerve with the RiverClan cats. A white molly hissed at the WindClan patrol. Oakheart narrowed his green eyes. “I am not doing anything until you send part of your patrol home,” he growled. “If this was a peace meeting, you would not have brought so many strong warriors into the heart of RiverClan.”

Heatherstar hesitated. Clearly she didn’t want to lose any of the warriors on her patrol, but her desire to confront Hailstar won out. She flicked an ear. “Cloudrunner, Bristlefeather, Ryestalk. Go back and wait for us at the border.”

If any of the WindClan warriors were disappointed to be sent away, they didn’t show it. Only Bristlefeather looked slightly frustrated. Blackpaw knew that he and Pigeonflight were close, and that he might have wanted to be a part of this patrol in some part for Pigeonflight. But the black tom just dipped his head and followed Ryestalk and Cloudrunner back the way they had come.

Oakheart nodded to the white molly. “Softwing, make sure they get to the WindClan border.”

Softwing dipped her head and took off at a pace that left Blackpaw wondering how RiverClan could catch any forest prey at all. When they’d disappeared into the trees, Oakheart flicked his tail. “Come on, then.”

Now three warriors short, the WindClan patrol followed Oakheart. He waded into the stream like it was nothing. Talltail and Heatherstar plunged in behind the RiverClan warrior, the water lapping gently over their bellies. Stagleap, Wrenflight, and Tornpaw all waded into the stream, while Mistmouse and Dawnstripe were more tentative about getting their paws wet. Mistmouse hesitantly got into the water, wrinkling her face as water washed over her pelt.

Blackpaw found himself rooted at the edge of the stream, trying to get the courage to go in. The water was low—for a long-legged WindClan warrior. It would reach Blackpaw’s chest at the very least, if not his chin.

 Deadfoot dutifully stayed with his apprentice, gently urging him on. Dawnstripe was at his side.

“Dry-paws,” one of the RiverClan cats spat. “Get on with it. You wanted an audience with Hailstar, you have to get your paws wet.”

“If you slip, I’ll pull you up by your scruff,” Deadfoot promised.

“What about you?” Blackpaw eyed Deadfoot’s twisted paw.

“I’ll be fine,” he huffed. “It’s not that deep, Blackpaw.”

Blackpaw nodded and slipped into the stream, gasping as the cool water rushed in around him, flattening his pelt to his skin. For a terrifying moment, he felt his claws slip in the ground below and he began to fall forward. Panicked, he thrashed around in the water.

True to his word, Deadfoot caught Blackpaw by his scruff.

“I’m okay!” Blackpaw said, and Deadfoot reluctantly let go of the apprentice’s scruff. “I’m okay.”

Behind him, a RiverClan cat snorted. “Bunch of threatening warriors you are!”

Blackpaw, Deadfoot, and Dawnstripe made it safely to the other side of the stream. He shook out his pelt, feeling more like a half-drowned rat than a WindClan apprentice. Reeds obscured the proper entrance to RiverClan’s camp, but as he followed the rest of the WindClan cats, he realized that the path was decorated by shells and smooth, shiny stones worn away by the river.

Hailstar was already at the center of RiverClan’s camp when they entered. His deputy Crookedjaw sat beside him. Blackpaw took quick notice of the dens, built upon light-weight interlocking branches. It looked dreadfully uncomfortable and wondered at their purpose. RiverClan cats stuck close to their dens, staring out at the trespassers suspiciously. This was the second time in as many moons that an enemy Clan had visited their camp.

“Heatherstar,” Hailstar welcomed the WindClan leader and her patrol with a tone of voice that wasn’t welcoming at all. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You know why I am here,” Heatherstar growled. “One of my warriors was lost in the battle yesterday. Have any of your warriors found his body?”

“I’m afraid not,” Hailstar said. “Unfortunately, his body is lost to the river.”

Mistmouse began to lash her tail. “Give us Hickorynose’s body, fish-face!”

Hailstar barely spared Mistmouse a glance before turning back to the WindClan leader. “What cause would I have to lie? Do you not think that it harrows me that a warrior has died in the gorge?”

“You didn’t seem so bothered yesterday,” Heatherstar said, narrowing her eyes.

Hailstar bowed his head. “I have sent out searches for Hickorynose’s body. Every cat deserves to be buried on land.”

“But the gorge? You still want to fight WindClan for it?” Heatherstar pressed.

The RiverClan leader shrugged. “What need does WindClan have for it?”

Blackpaw wanted to ask what need RiverClan had for it, but he held his tongue.

“That is not of your concern,” Heatherstar said cuttingly. “What should be your concern is Hickorynose’s death.”

“We don’t have his body,” Crookedjaw insisted, his pelt rising.

“But something must be done,” Heatherstar said. “You invade my territory without warning. You kill one of my warriors. His kin had to mourn him without his body, without sharing tongues with him for the last time!”

At this, a flash of guilt crossed Crookedjaw’s face. But Hailstar was resolute. He stepped forward, his tail swaying lightly. “This is the way of the Clans, Heatherstar. Hickorynose is not the first cat to die in the gorge.”

“If it hadn’t been for your greed, he would still be alive,” Heatherstar snarled. “I seek justice for his life. I have spoken with my warriors, and we have agreed to demand you give WindClan hunting rights up to the Twoleg bridge.”

Yowls of protest from the RiverClan cats cut through the air.

“I’m not scared of a bunch of dry-paws making threats,” a brown tabby tom spat.

Hailstar waited for his Clan’s outrage to die down before he spoke. “What in StarClan’s name makes you think that I would give you a piece of my land after losing Sunningrocks to ThunderClan? Do you want my Clan to starve itself before leaf-bare?”

“You have the river,” Deadfoot said. “What use do you have for our side of the gorge?”

This only made the RiverClan cats more hostile.

Heatherstar flicked an ear with annoyance. “I am not asking for your land. I am demanding to hunt on your land. You will still own that stretch of territory.”

“WindClan trickery!” a black tabby yowled. “Thieves who wish not to be called thieves!”

“It is justice,” Heatherstar corrected. “To grant WindClan all the prey Hickorynose would have gotten to eat, had you not invaded yesterday. I come in peace, but my Clan is prepared to fight for this.”

“Do you truly want to make so much trouble for the sake of one warrior, Heatherstar?” Hailstar asked with eyes narrowed to slits.

Heatherstar held his gaze without flinching. “It is for the sake of WindClan.”

“For the sake of WindClan,” Hailstar snarled, “my patrols had better not catch a whiff of your moorland stench one paw-step over the border. Else Hickorynose won’t be the only WindClan cat lost to the river.” He turned to his deputy. “Crookedjaw, take a patrol and escort these would-be thieves off our territory. I'm done with them.”

Chapter Text

A paw prodded at Blackpaw’s flank. He blinked open his eyes blearily to see Woollytail standing quietly above him. His body still ached with the exhaustion of yesterday’s trek to RiverClan land and back, and he had not been able to sleep well with Hailstar’s words ringing in his ears. War seemed imminent.

The milky gray light of predawn sun stroked the sky, and Blackpaw was about to tell Woollytail to leave him to sleep. Then he remembered Woollytail’s promise to teach him to tunnel. Excitement shot through Blackpaw like a lightning strike. He pushed aside his tiredness and got to his paws, shaking out his fur to wake himself up more.

“I asked Deadfoot if I could take you out today,” Woollytail said in a low voice. “Give him more time to grieve Hickorynose.”

Blackpaw nodded. It was a clever cover-up for what they would be doing. No cat would blink at a senior warrior taking out another cat’s apprentice for the day. Especially if war with RiverClan was unavoidable. The apprentices needed to be in tip-top shape for battle. Blackpaw felt a twinge of guilt—he knew as well as Woollytail that battle practice was the last thing that they would be doing today. But tunnelling took tremendous strength, bravery, and skill. Surely there was something he could learn down there that would be applicable in battle.

Other cats around them were beginning to stir; the dawn patrol would be out soon. Blackpaw knew that Talltail would be sending out a patrol to the RiverClan border twice a day now. He expected he would have to join the evening patrol today, since he would be busy with Woollytail for the morning.

He and Woollytail padded softly towards the camp entrance. They dipped their heads to Aspenfall, who was guarding the camp. Heatherstar had not called a Clan meeting last night after the disastrous patrol to RiverClan’s camp. Instead, she’d chosen to retreat to her den with a few senior warriors and let word spread through camp like a flash flood. Whatever was going to happen, it was obvious that Heatherstar did not want to make a move on RiverClan just yet.

Once out of camp proper, Woollytail began to lead the way toward the Twoleg farms. His pace was much slower than Blackpaw was used to running now, but they would have to save their energy for tunnelling. Blackpaw wondered if they would be going to the tunnel entrance that he had found on his hunting assessment and recalled the poor state it had been in when he’d chased the rabbit inside.

“Are you going to show me how to build?” Blackpaw asked. He was trying to contain his enthusiasm, but he was sure that it showed with every prickle of his fur and gleam of his eyes.

Woollytail’s whiskers twitched. “No.”

“But I can’t only use the tunnels to hunt,” Blackpaw protested. “They won’t always be there unless I help you maintain them.”

“Did Deadfoot start you running by ordering you to run across the entire moor?” Woollytail asked with an amused sparkle to his eye.

“No,” Blackpaw said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “He made me run laps first, to build up my stamina.”

 Woollytail nodded. “That’s what we need to do.”

The tunnel entrance that Blackpaw had found was still a little further away, nearer to the far border of WindClan territory, but Woollytail stopped here and nosed at some grass disguising an opening into the ground. Blackpaw’s ears pricked as Woollytail looked expectantly at him.  

“After you,” Woollytail invited.

Grinning, Blackpaw slipped into the opening. Woollytail followed right behind him, his whiskers brushing against Blackpaw’s tail. The sunlight faded quickly as Blackpaw burrowed deeper into the tunnel.

“Let your hearing and touch take over,” Woollytail instructed.

Blackpaw felt a flash of annoyance. He remembered that! Did Woollytail remember that he had caught a rabbit in the tunnels not so long ago? Still, he did as he was told. His whiskers were stretched out, greedy for sensory information. They lightly stroked the walls of the tunnel. Faintly he could hear a trickle of water.

“I can hear water. Is that bad?” Blackpaw asked. He remembered Woollytail expressing concerns about how wet soil could collapse a tunnel easily.

“Not necessarily,” Woollytail replied hesitantly. “But we should always be cautious. Even in the driest greenleaf, the deeper tunnels are moist. And rivers can run underwater too. Collapse is not the only thing to be wary of when it comes to water down here. You can drown if those rivers overflow.”

Now Blackpaw understood why Heatherstar had cut her losses when it came to tunnelling. It certainly sounded more treacherous than life aboveground. But a fox had almost killed him once. A ThunderClan apprentice had almost killed him once. Every day brought new dangers. And to Blackpaw, it was worth it to keep tunnelling if it meant the Clan could be full-fed.

“Now what can you feel?” Woollytail asked.

“There’s a current of air coming in from the tunnel entrance,” Blackpaw said.

“Yes,” Woollytail agreed. “Remember that the first rule of navigating the tunnels is to find the wind if you get lost. The first WindClan tunnellers built it that way, and every generation after them followed. Follow the wind and it will always lead you home.”

Blackpaw nodded before realizing that the senior warrior would not be able to see it. “What if I’m too deep into the tunnel that the wind disappears?”

“You keep going onward until you feel the wind. Our tunnels have multiple entrances,” Woollytail said. “Now what else do you notice?”

“My whiskers are touching the walls of the tunnel,” Blackpaw replied. “And my paws can feel the tunnel slope downward. How deep does this tunnel go?”

“Quite deep,” Woollytail said. “We used to use this tunnel to hunt moles and other underground prey in the dead of leaf-bare.”   

“It seems sound structurally,” Blackpaw said thoughtfully as he gently pushed at the walls of the tunnel with his muzzle. There was little give in the soil. He hoped that meant that Woollytail had kept it in good condition. Once he’d gone into the tunnels more, he was certain that he would be more confident in his assessments of building quality.

The senior warrior purred from behind him. “I wouldn’t have taken you down here if it wasn’t. This is one of WindClan’s oldest tunnels. It has been here for generations.”

A shiver passed through Blackpaw. He could not begin to describe how honored he felt that Woollytail was sharing this with him. How many cats had walked here? Blackpaw took another step forward, deeper into the tunnel, and let out a gasp.

The rumbling of Woollytail’s purr grew louder. “Now. Let’s see how much you remember from our hunting session those moons ago.”

.

Blackpaw returned from his tunnel-hunting session with Woollytail carrying a rabbit nearly his own size. His eyes were gleaming with the exhilaration of the catch. Woollytail himself held a young hare in his jaws, having caught it on the way back to camp above ground. Blackpaw passed through the gorse tunnel with his tail held high, feeling incredibly pleased. His session had gone well, and he could not thank Woollytail enough for showing him the ways of the tunnellers.

He and Woollytail had cleaned themselves up carefully before making their way back to camp, and his black pelt shone in the midday sun. Perhaps the only thing that would betray his exploits was the soil caked in his claws, but that easily could be explained away as running through some mud.

As the tunnel opened into the WindClan camp, Blackpaw realized that he must have just missed Heatherstar calling for a Clan meeting. The WindClan leader was standing on the Tallrock with the entire Clan gathering below her. Had she finally decided what to do about RiverClan? He shared a glance with Woollytail before the deposited their kills onto the prey-heap and went their separate ways.

He joined Mudpaw and Tornpaw at the edge of the crowd and nudged them both. He settled down between them and whispered, “What has she said?”

Mudpaw shrugged. “Not much.”

“Just retelling what Hailstar said to our patrol yesterday,” Tornpaw added.  

“What are we going to do now?” called up Rabbitstep from where she was sitting with Stagleap and Wrenflight.

“When will we attack?” Shrewclaw asked, flexing his claws.

Heatherstar took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. “For now? I have decided to do not to launch an attack.”

Plumclaw and Appledawn were sitting just outside the nursery with their kits. At Heatherstar’s words, both of the queens’ shoulders slackened with relief. But other cats were not satisfied by Heatherstar’s decision. Shrewclaw lashed his tail but remained silent.

“Hold on a moment,” Mistmouse protested, her brown fur fluffing up. “You were the one who wanted to fight RiverClan for hunting rights to the Twoleg bridge! And now that Hailstar has refused you want us to back down like cowards?”

“Certainly not,” Heatherstar said. “But we will not take the battle to them yet. Remember that RiverClan still wants the gorge.”

“You think they’ll try to take it again?” Redclaw asked.

“Hailstar all but gave us confirmation yesterday,” their leader replied grimly. “As always, we will wait for RiverClan to make the first move before we retaliate.”

“But what about justice for Hickorynose?” Deadfoot cut in. He sat with his littermates across the crowd from Blackpaw. His green eyes held a spark of anger. “Isn’t that why we threatened RiverClan in the first place?”

Heatherstar dipped her head to the warrior. “I did expect RiverClan to refuse us hunting rights. We shall just have to take what we deserve.”

“Without a battle?” Ryestalk asked with a scoff. “You mean you want us to steal prey? After Hailstar’s threat?”

“We can shred their pelts just as well as they can ours,” Heatherstar retorted. “They already think of us as thieves. And this way we know they’ll invade sooner or later. We are just goading them onto our territory, where we hold the advantage.”

WindClan cats began to murmur amongst one another, unsure if this was a cowardly or a strategic move. Blackpaw himself wasn’t sure of how he felt.

“If we still had the tunnels,” Whiteberry said from outside of the elders’ den, “we wouldn’t need to resort to such trickery. We could attack RiverClan and then have an easy escape.”

“And then we would die in collapse,” Blackpaw heard Cloudrunner mutter under his breath.

“This ‘trickery,’ as you call it, will give us time to prepare for RiverClan’s next attack. Which means the training of new apprentices. Luckily,” Heatherstar said, looking pointedly at Plumclaw, “there are two kits reaching their sixth moon.”

Blackpaw’s eyes widened. Outside the nursery, Plumclaw jolted as Morningkit and Ashkit next to her jumped up to their paws, squealing with excitement. The dark gray queen looked up at Heatherstar with shocked amber eyes. “Already?”

Heatherstar shrugged. “They’re around Blackpaw’s size by now.”

Shrewclaw snorted. “What does the runt have to do with anything? We might as well make Appledawn’s kits apprentices if he’s what you’re going by.”

Blackpaw felt Mudpaw and Tornpaw beside him both bristle at their father’s comment. At his place under the Tallrock, Talltail scowled and dug his claws into the ground. Blackpaw lashed his tail. Why did Shrewclaw have to ruin every good moment with his spite?

Wisely, Heatherstar ignored the brown tabby warrior and blinked down at Plumclaw. “With your permission,” she prompted the gray queen patiently.

Plumclaw nodded, still looking dazed. Then she seemed to understand what she had just agreed to and began frantically grooming Morningkit and Ashkit to get them presentable. But there was little time before Heatherstar called them forward.

“Morningkit, Ashkit,” Heatherstar meowed.

The two kits wriggled free of their mother and bounded towards the Tallrock with their tails sticking straight up. Their eyes were as wide and glowing as tiny full moons.

“Morningkit,” Heatherstar addressed the tortoiseshell-and-white molly with a soft smile, “from this day until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Morningpaw.” She looked down at her deputy. “Talltail.”

At the base of the Tallrock, Talltail started, as though he hadn’t expected to be given one of these apprentices. Blackpaw frowned. Every cat seemed taken aback. Hadn’t Heatherstar discussed the apprenticeship with him before the ceremony?

Even still, Talltail met Morningpaw with a warmth in his amber eyes. The deputy had spent much time by the nursery even after Blackpaw had become an apprentice, and Blackpaw knew that Talltail held as much affection for Morningpaw and her sister as he did.

“Talltail, you are ready for your next apprentice. You have proven yourself to be a loyal and intelligent warrior and deputy. I expect you to pass on these qualities to Morningpaw.” She waited for Morningpaw and Talltail to touch noses and then turned to Ashkit. “Ashkit, from this day until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Ashpaw. Wrenflight—”

Wrenflight broke away from where she was sitting with Rabbitstep and Stagleap. She stepped forward with an astonished look in her eyes. She blinked kindly down at Ashpaw and smiled at the apprentice.

“Wrenflight, you are ready for your first apprentice,” Heatherstar said. “You received excellent training from Hareflight and have proven yourself to be a warrior of levelheadedness and agility. I hope you pass on these qualities to your apprentice.”

The light brown tabby dipped her head to Heatherstar and turned to Ashpaw. Mentor and apprentice touched noses. Wrenflight looked more than pleased to have been chosen to teach the plucky young gray molly.

“Morningpaw! Ashpaw!” Blackpaw was the first cat to break into a cheer. His two friends had been the first to welcome him by his apprentice name, after all, and he felt he needed to return the favor. The rest of the Clan joined in the chant. "Morningpaw! Ashpaw!”

When the cheering had died out, Heatherstar jumped down from the Tallrock. The Clan dispersed, still feeling uneased by their leader’s easy welcome of thievery. It was greenleaf, Blackpaw thought, they didn’t need to resort to prey-stealing. He felt sorry for Deadfoot’s loss, but he couldn’t help but feel that one cat’s death was not worth all this trouble. He would much rather have just launched a simple attack and used the tunnels like Whiteberry said.

“Blackpaw!” Morningpaw and Ashpaw bowled him over while he was lost in thought, just like they used to do when they were kits.

“Hey!” Blackpaw squirmed out from under them and shook out his fur. He glared at Tornpaw and Mudpaw, who had not left the meeting area. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss out on the sight of you suffocating to death by kit?” Tornpaw’s whiskers twitched. “Not hardly!”

“We’re apprentices now,” Ashpaw reminded him, puffing her chest out proudly.

“His mistake,” Mudpaw said, flicking his tail against his brother’s flank.

“Blackpaw,” Morningpaw mewed, bouncing on her paws. “Talltail and Wrenflight are taking us out to tour the territory!” She hesitated. “Well, Talltail said we’d only patrol up to Fourtrees and back today.”

“Come with us!” Ashpaw added.

“What, are we not invited?” Mudpaw snorted. He sat down and began to wash his ears.

Ashpaw looked at Mudpaw and frowned. “Do you want to?”

“Nah,” Mudpaw said. “Just teasing. Tornpaw and I have battle practice soon.”

“Well?” Morningpaw turned back to Blackpaw. “Deadfoot has the day off, doesn’t he?”

Blackpaw nodded reluctantly. “Woollytail already took me out hunting this morning.” His stomach growled and he flattened his ears with embarrassment. “And I haven’t eaten yet. I wouldn’t want to make you wait for me and waste more of your day.”

“You can catch something and eat on the way,” Talltail purred as he approached the group of apprentices with Wrenflight in tow. “I just want to have you around. Maybe you can show Ashpaw and Morningpaw something.”

Blackpaw met Talltail’s excited gaze and couldn’t help himself from grinning back at his father. “If you insist.”

Chapter Text

Blackpaw leapt onto Outlook Rock and glanced back to his companions. Morningpaw and Ashpaw bounded ahead of their mentors, their eyes bright with excitement and their tails sticking straight into the air. Blackpaw twitched his whiskers. Even though they wouldn’t be touring the entire territory today, Morningpaw and Ashpaw would need to pace themselves. They weren’t used to such sustained exercise.

“This is Outlook Rock,” Blackpaw said as Morningpaw and Ashpaw skidded to a halt below the rock. He waved his tail in a gesture to the territory around them. The moorland stretched out around them, brushing against the cloudless, clear blue sky. To the southeast was a dark line of trees. Blackpaw blinked, reveling in the feeling of the warm sunlight on his fur. “We keep watch through almost our whole territory here. To pass your warrior’s assessment, you’ll need to list everything you see, scent, and hear from up here.”

“That’s not for a while yet,” Talltail purred. He and Wrenflight hung back behind their apprentices, letting Blackpaw begin their tour. “Even Blackpaw has a while to go before his warrior ceremony.”

“Can I see?” Morningpaw didn’t wait for an answer before she jumped up next to Blackpaw and took in the sea of wild grass before them. Her ears pricked and she gave a little bounce. “That must be Fourtrees! And I can see Doespring’s hunting party!” She pointed with her muzzle over to their border with RiverClan, where Blackpaw could see distant dark figures like a line of ants.

“Are they going to hunt on RiverClan territory already?” Wrenflight asked, her pale brown tabby pelt bristling. She jumped up onto Outlook Rock, bumping into Blackpaw, who let out a vaguely irritated growl. Wrenflight ignored him and gazed out to the direction Morningpaw was pointing to. Then she whipped her head around to shoot a disapproving look down at her older half-brother. “Shouldn’t we let RiverClan cool down before sending a patrol to steal prey on their territory?”

Talltail’s fur prickled. “Heatherstar must have sent them in that direction. I certainly didn’t want to escalate so soon.”

“Or at all,” Wrenflight muttered with an annoyed flick of her tail.

“So we aren’t going to RiverClan?” Ashpaw asked.

“No way,” Blackpaw shot out before either of the mentors could speak. “Two untrained apprentices? RiverClan would have our pelts.”

“That didn’t seem to matter when you saved me and Ashpaw from that fox,” Morningpaw teased, nudging his shoulder.

Blackpaw’s ears suddenly felt hot. “Well, that was different. It was an emergency.” His tail tip twitched. He dropped down from Outlook Rock and gave his pelt a shake. “And after all that I was stuck in Barkface’s den for a moon recovering.”

“You were brave to attack that fox,” Wrenflight said warmly to Blackpaw, but then she turned serious and looked between Morningpaw and Ashpaw with a frown. “But it never should have happened. Blackpaw didn’t have nearly enough training, and he could have been killed that night looking for you. We don’t want young apprentices getting hurt.”

Morningpaw and Ashpaw lowered their gazes. No doubt they were remembering the severity of Blackpaw’s injuries that night.

“I would do the same thing all over again,” Blackpaw said, trying to make his friends feel a little better. “Injuries and delayed training and all.”

“The two of you were only kits,” Talltail added gently to the younger apprentices. He glanced at Wrenflight with a mirthful glimmer in his amber eyes. “I recall some other kits getting into trouble with a hawk once.”

Wrenflight twitched her ears and turned her head away from Talltail, looking as though she were trying to smother a smile. “We ate well that night, didn’t we?”

“You sneaked out of camp?” Ashpaw asked. The gray-furred molly crouched down and took a playful swipe up at her mentor.

Wrenflight’s blue gaze sparkled. “Just shows I know more than most cats about the dangers of sneaking out of camp as a kitten! A hawk nearly took me and my littermates.”

“How did you escape?” asked Morningpaw.

“I saved them,” Talltail said.

Ashpaw and Morningpaw’s eager eyes turned towards the Clan deputy. Blackpaw felt a faint flicker of surprise that his friends hadn’t heard the story yet, but he supposed that Talltail didn’t tell it often; he seemed awkward about reminding his Clanmates of the time he had spent away from WindClan.

Blackpaw shifted uncomfortably. Now that he had noticed Talltail’s hesitance, Blackpaw couldn’t help but wonder if Talltail was somehow ashamed of his past with Jake. With Blackpaw in WindClan, there was no way for Talltail to bury it away. Guilt clawed at him. He wished he could banish away this seedling of doubt in his mind. Talltail loved him.

Talltail shook out his coat and flicked his tail for the others to follow him. “Come on, then. I’ll tell the story on the way to Fourtrees.”

Morningpaw scrambled down Outlook Rock in her haste to hear the story while Ashpaw chirped to Wrenflight, “Why did you leave camp anyway?”

The young tabby warrior shrugged. “Why does any kit leave camp? We wanted to explore. And I guess I had it in my head to try finding Talltail. I missed him.”

“Was he lost?” Morningpaw asked.

“In a way,” Talltail replied hesitantly. He’d tensed up at the apprentices’ probing questions. “I was gone from the Clan for a while.”

“Why?” Ashpaw’s eyes were two enormous yellow moons. “Were you on a mission from StarClan?”

“No.” Talltail licked his lips. Blackpaw waited for him to say something else, but he merely brushed the matter aside. “I came home from my travels and heard screams. I saw a hawk hovering in the sky, and then I saw my young siblings. I leapt into action, launching myself at the hawk just as it swooped down to take Wrenflight away.”

“And you killed it?” Morningpaw asked.

Talltail nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Brought it to camp, right to the prey-heap.”

“That’s amazing!” Ashpaw said.

“Wanna know what else is amazing?” Wrenflight asked, nodding to the four Great Oak trees below the rise.

“Fourtrees!” Morningpaw gasped. She bounded ahead, Wrenflight and Ashpaw at her heels.

Blackpaw paused and looked at Talltail, who had stayed behind with him. He could feel his stomach grumbling again. He’d been able to take his mind off his hunger for a while, but it gnawed at him now. “Can I catch myself something while you teach them the other Clans’ scents?”

“Of course,” Talltail said, but still he didn’t follow Wrenflight and their apprentices down to Fourtrees. His curious gaze was fixed on Blackpaw. “Is there something wrong, sweet?”

Blackpaw didn’t think now was the time to talk to Talltail about his past with Jake, but he didn’t want to dismiss his father’s concern, either. He looked down at the four Great Oaks, remembering a trek across ThunderClan territory through a cold, snowy forest. “The story just made me think about Jake, is all.”

“I was thinking of him too,” Talltail said, a note of wistfulness creeping into his voice. He didn’t seem to have the same barriers with Blackpaw that he did around Morningpaw and Ashpaw—and why should he? Jake was someone they both shared. Perhaps it was possible to love something—or someone—and be ashamed of it at the same time.

“Do you think he’ll ever visit?” Blackpaw wondered.

“I don’t know.” Talltail’s amber eyes clouded. “To be honest, Blackpaw, when Jake brought you to me, I hadn’t seen him since the day he convinced me to return to WindClan.”

Blackpaw felt a twinge in his stomach that was unrelated to his hunger. “Oh. I see.”

Talltail gave him a loving lick on his ear. “You go hunt for something. Meet with us near the Thunderpath.”

“Maybe I should stick close,” Blackpaw ventured, thinking of how he could impress his young friends if they watched him catch some prey. “I could show off my hunting skill.”

“Plenty of time for that in the future,” Talltail purred. “You won’t find anything around here. Morningpaw and Ashpaw have probably frightened off all the prey from here to the abandoned badger set with their chattering.”

And that was true enough, Blackpaw thought as he set out in search of a meal.

.

As soon as Blackpaw crawled into his nest and closed his eyes to sleep, something shook him to wakefulness. He couldn’t stop the little whine from escaping out of his throat as he forced his eyes open. He had been up since before dawn and was exhausted.

The sight of Woollytail standing expectantly over him was becoming familiar. Blackpaw sighed. Beside him, Morningpaw’s ears twitched. She and Ashpaw had made up their nests against Blackpaw’s so that they could be as close as they had been in the nursery together.

Of course, this meant that sneaking out after the Clan had gone to sleep to tunnel with Woollytail was a more difficult endeavor. Nonetheless Blackpaw was touched.

Slowly Blackpaw pulled away from his friends. Ashpaw murmured in her sleep and pressed against her sister. Blackpaw let out a relieved breath and dipped his head to Woollytail. Quickly and silent as a vulture’s wings they left the camp through the dirtplace.

Silverpelt glittered above them like the eyes of a stalking cat. The moon was growing wide with each passing day, and rising later and later. The night of the next Gathering was fast approaching.

Woollytail seemed to want to take Blackpaw to a different tunnel entrance each time they had a training session. They were halfway to Fourtrees before Blackpaw realized that Woollytail was taking him to the tunnel that Ashpaw and Morningpaw had hidden in as kits. A vague spark of interest came to life in his chest—it was hard for Blackpaw to muster up more energy than that. He hadn’t gotten a good amount of rest in days between training, hunting, and his nightly lessons with Woollytail.

“I want to show you something new today,” Woollytail said, breaking the silence between them. He stopped and cleared away some bark and stones obscuring the entrance to the tunnel.

Blackpaw tried to stifle a yawn. “Are you showing me how to dig a tunnel tonight?”

“No, I—” Woollytail cut himself off as a head poked through the tunnel. His gray-and-white pelt stood on end and he raised a forepaw as though to bat it away.

But the head didn’t belong to a fox or a badger. Instead the lean, tall figure of Plumclaw slipped out of the tunnel. The warrior shook out her dark gray coat free of dirt and debris. Her amber eyes sharpened as she realized that Woollytail was not alone. She didn’t take her eyes off of Blackpaw as she said to Woollytail, “So it’s true. You’ve been training him in the tunnels.”

“Plumclaw,” Woollytail said, letting his fur flatten and lowering his paw. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m back to warrior duties now,” she said, finally looking away from Blackpaw to meet Woollytail’s wary blue gaze. “Or had you forgotten?”

“Of course not,” Woollytail replied. “I just hadn’t expected that you would…”

“What?” Plumclaw pressed. “You didn’t think I would keep tunneling? Is my word worth so little?”

“Kits can change a cat a lot,” Woollytail meowed, keeping his voice level. “I would not have held it against you had you not wanted to tunnel, even after your daughters joined the apprentices.”

Plumclaw lashed her tail. “Well, I’m back. But I see you’re not alone. I had my suspicions, when Blackpaw gave me and my kits that mole.” She lowered her voice to a hiss. “What are you thinking, Woollytail? He’s Talltail’s kit .”

“Talltail’s kit can speak for himself,” Blackpaw said, wounded by Plumclaw’s intensity. He didn’t understand her frustration. He had thought that tunneling like this could be something that they could share. Plumclaw talked about tunneling with such relish. Why was she so against him learning how to do it from Woollytail? “I thought you’d be pleased that I was doing this!”

“Pleased?” Plumclaw echoed. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Blackpaw, sweet, you don’t understand.”

Before Blackpaw could respond, Woollytail stepped forward and brushed the tip of his tail against the apprentice’s mouth, an unspoken request for quiet. “Plumclaw, he begged me to show him. Hickorynose is gone and Mistmouse wants nothing to do with this. The two of us won’t live forever, and we don’t want the ancient practice of tunneling to be gone with us. He is our answer.”

Plumclaw seemed at odds with herself. “Talltail’s kit, Woollytail. StarClan forbid anything happen while the two of you are down there.”

“Nothing will happen,” Woollytail assured. “I know what I’m doing.”

Plumclaw sighed. “Sandgorse was a good tunneller, too. Accidents happen.”

At the mention of Sandgorse, Blackpaw’s ears pricked. He knew that Talltail’s father had died in the tunnels after a collapse. Perhaps she only feared losing Blackpaw in the same way that Sandgorse had died—but he had no intention of playing around in the tunnels. Blackpaw would show Plumclaw how seriously he was taking this. He came around Woollytail and sat at the senior warrior’s side. Blackpaw blinked up at Plumclaw and promised, “We’re careful. I want to learn so badly, Plumclaw. Please don’t tell anyone.”

She looked down at Blackpaw and he could see her frustration begin to fade away. “Of course I won’t tell.” Plumclaw leaned in and nuzzled at his forehead. “It’s impossible to stay angry when you have a face like that. Why don’t you go on back to camp? I want to talk to Woollytail alone.”

“But—” Blackpaw tried to protest.

“If you’re being as careful as you say, Woollytail wouldn’t have dragged you out to tunnel when you look dead on your paws,” Plumclaw cut in dryly with a sideways glance at Woollytail. “Go home and sleep.”

Woollytail sighed and nodded down at Blackpaw. “Go on, kit. Plumclaw’s right. I shouldn’t have taken you out tonight. Deadfoot needs you fresh for training tomorrow. ”

Dismissed, Blackpaw turned around and left the two tunnellers to talk. Part of him was rather glad that he would be able to get some sleep before Deadfoot needed him, but he couldn’t help but think that trekking all the way out here in the middle of the night had been a waste of time. He didn’t even know what Woollytail had wanted to show him.

He hurried his way back home.

Chapter Text

All of the apprentices were summoned to Outlook Rock the next day. The morning dew had already been burned away, and now it seemed that the harsh greenleaf sun was turning its direct attention to the tips of Blackpaw’s ears as all five WindClan apprentices bounded through their territory.

They didn’t need to be in any hurry to meet with their mentors—Talltail still needed to finish assigning patrols for the day. Blackpaw was grateful for that at the very least, as it had given him a sliver more time to sleep. His eyelids didn’t feel nearly as heavy as they had these past couple of days.

Wrenflight had been incredibly secretive about the curriculum for today when they’d asked, so Ashpaw and Morningpaw were bouncing around the elder apprentices with their speculations on why the mentors wanted all of them together.

“It can’t be for hunting,” Morningpaw reasoned. “What did Talltail say about us the first day of our training again?”

“That your chattering scared off every piece of prey from the abandoned badger set to Fourtrees?” Blackpaw prompted, and the tortoiseshell-and-white molly had the audacity to turn and give him a smug grin. He twitched his whiskers. “Not something to be proud of, Morningpaw.”

“We weren’t hunting anyway,” Morningpaw said with a toss of her head.

“I was,” Blackpaw bickered, just for the sake of it.

“Maybe our mentors are going to set up a mock battle for us!” Ashpaw suggested. She nudged Mudpaw’s flank. “Have you ever done anything like that? It probably would’ve been hard to do while you and Tornpaw were the only apprentices in the Clan.”

“I’ve been in real battles, Ashpaw.” Mudpaw sniffed. He took a small step away from the younger apprentice, letting the cool long grass brush against his dark tabby pelt.

Morningpaw stopped short, her fur prickling. She turned a heated gaze to Mudpaw. “We’ll see real battles too! We’re expecting an attack from RiverClan any day now.”

“And you’d better pray to StarClan you don’t take part in those battles,” Tornpaw said, shouldering Morningpaw out of his way. “You two are little more than kits.”

“Someone’s talking like an elder.” Ashpaw flicked her ear dismissively. “You’re forgetting that Heatherstar made me and Morningpaw apprentices so that WindClan could have more fighters if it came to war.”

“No, she made you apprentices so Tornpaw and I could become warriors,” Mudpaw grouched. “And so that Blackpaw wouldn’t be training alone.”

“So then why is your name still Mudpaw?” Morningpaw chirped up. “Why didn’t she perform your warrior ceremony after we were made apprentices? You’re way overdue.”

Mudpaw flattened his ears and glared at the tortoiseshell molly.

“Maybe she thinks we’ll be more helpful as apprentices in the meantime,” Tornpaw said calmly. He didn’t seem as frustrated as Mudpaw that Heatherstar was taking her time in giving them their full warrior names. “Blackpaw doesn’t fight like Mudpaw and Mudpaw doesn’t fight like me. It’s good to expose you to different fighting and hunting techniques.”

“I don’t fight like you because I’m smaller than you,” Blackpaw deadpanned, and Morningpaw and Ashpaw stifled their giggles.

“You don’t fight like us because your mentor is Deadfoot,” Tornpaw corrected.

Blackpaw puffed out his chest. Perhaps Tornpaw had merely made the comment as an observation and not as a compliment, but he couldn’t help but be proud that the other apprentices had noticed. He had learned both how to fight like Deadfoot and how to counter his mentor’s unconventional battle tactics. Blackpaw pranced ahead of the other apprentices.

“And also because you’re small,” Mudpaw called out after him, because of course he wouldn’t want Blackpaw to get too big of a head.

Blackpaw glanced back at his friends to see that Mudpaw had finally cracked a smile, and his amber eyes were glowing with mischief.

The apprentices all arrived to Outlook Rock to find it abandoned. For the past few days, a sentry had been posted on Outlook Rock at all times, but today it had been left alone. Talltail had wanted the space to be completely dedicated to today’s training session. The guard would return at the end of the day.

Ashpaw shook her coat out and began to wash her ears while Morningpaw found a butterfly to amuse herself with while they waited for their mentors to make an appearance.

Blackpaw opened his mouth to scent the air, but he couldn’t taste the scents of any of their mentors in the wind. “Maybe we should hunt while we wait.”

“Or we could set up a mock battle ourselves!” Ashpaw said, jumping to her paws.

Morningpaw gave up her butterfly chase and went back to stand beside her sister. She frowned, looking across the group, and shook her head. “We’re an odd number. One of us would have to sit out.”

“I can take two cats at once,” Tornpaw boasted. He reared up onto his hind legs and swiped at his brother’s ear. Mudpaw dodged with practiced swiftness and swung out at Tornpaw’s left hind leg to unbalance him, but Tornpaw rolled away and dropped back onto all fours. He looked at the younger apprentices and puffed out his chest. “Every cat has to learn how to take on multiple enemies.”

“Teach us then, O Great Powerful Warrior,” Ashpaw said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tornpaw and Mudpaw glanced at each other and shrugged.

“Ashpaw, Morningpaw, and Blackpaw on one team?” Mudpaw suggested.

“Is that fair?” Blackpaw wondered. “You and Tornpaw are warriors in all but name!”

“You’ll have the advantage of numbers,” Tornpaw said. “And you’re not an inexperienced apprentice anymore. How would you divide the teams up?”

Blackpaw hesitated. “Mudpaw with Morningpaw and Ashpaw. Tornpaw with me.”

“You’re giving them Mudpaw?” Tornpaw asked.

But Mudpaw’s eyes were sparkling. He nudged his brother’s shoulder. “Weren’t you just bragging about being able to take two cats in a fight?” Now he looked at Blackpaw, lingering his gaze on the younger apprentice’s neck. Blackpaw could guess that Mudpaw was remembering the day that he had ripped off Blackpaw’s collar. Finally Mudpaw met Blackpaw’s eyes. “I’d say it’s a fair match.”

“What’s a fair match?” Deadfoot’s voice cut in, and Blackpaw jolted. He hadn’t noticed the warriors’ scents in the wind, but Deadfoot, Talltail, and Wrenflight came through the grass as he turned his head over to follow his mentor’s voice. Cloudrunner and Redclaw were absent today, but that wasn’t altogether strange; they had been showing up to training practices less and less now that Mudpaw and Tornpaw were just about fully trained. Instead, Dawnstripe picked her way out of the long grass behind the mentors.

Morningpaw stood straight as the warriors appeared. “We were going to set up a mock battle!”

“I didn’t realize your mentors were already among you,” Deadfoot said dryly. He glanced at Mudpaw and Tornpaw with a scowl.

Blackpaw shuffled his paws—he hadn’t expected Deadfoot to be in such a bad mood. Even in his grief, his mentor usually made a concentrated effort in practicing patience towards the apprentices.

Ashpaw looked desperately to her mentor Wrenflight. “We just wanted to have some fun.”

“We will,” Talltail said, his tail brushing comfortingly against Deadfoot’s flank. “Deadfoot, the apprentices didn’t do anything wrong. They just got ahead of themselves.”

Deadfoot closed his eyes painfully for a moment. “Yes. Right. Sorry. We do have something fun planned.”

“Is it a mock battle?” Blackpaw ventured.

Deadfoot sighed. “No.” He paused and seemed to muster up all his positive energy. When he spoke next, his tone was forcibly lighter: “We’re going to have a race.”

“A race!” Morningpaw jumped to her paws. “I’m the fastest, I know it! I’ll win!”

“Running is a skill,” Blackpaw reminded her. It was something Deadfoot had drilled into him time and time again. When he glanced over at his mentor, it was to find Deadfoot nodding with approval. “It requires stamina too, not just speed.”

“That’s just something slow cats say,” Tornpaw said.

Dawnstripe purred and lightly cuffed Tornpaw’s ear. “Cheek!”

“It’s not just going to be any race,” Talltail began to explain. “We are here at Outlook Rock to see how you would fare in the case of an enemy attack. How fast would you get to camp to warn us of intruders? We are here to test your speed and stamina.”

Tornpaw scowled. “I’ve already done that! For real.”

“Which is why we wanted to include you in this training session,” Deadfoot said.

“You want us to run all the way back to camp?” Blackpaw asked, slumping his shoulders. He wasn’t really looking forward to that, and he couldn’t figure out how the mentors would be able to track them besides.

“Not quite.” It was Wrenflight who responded. She jumped up onto Outlook Rock. “We thought we would make it a little more fun.”

“A relay race,” Dawnstripe put in. “We will split up into teams of three, spaced between here—” Dawnstripe pointed with her muzzle to a large lavender bush and then to a small pile of rocks directly across from them. “—That bush of lavender, and that pile of rocks. When you reach your teammate, touch their nose and they will take over the next stretch of the race.” The apprentices exploded into excited chatter, beginning to bicker over how the teams would be divided, but Dawnstripe waved her tail. “I’ve already split up the teams.”

“Will we be on the same team as our mentors?” Ashpaw asked.

Dawnstripe shook her head. “There will be three teams: Team Feather, Team Leaf, and Team Daisy. Team Feather will be Wrenflight, Morningpaw, and Blackpaw. Team Leaf will be Talltail, Deadfoot, and Tornpaw.” She dipped her head to the remaining two apprentices. “And Ashpaw and Mudpaw will be with me on Team Daisy.”

“Team Feather! Team Feather! Team Feather!” Morningpaw started to chant.

Ashpaw tried to drown her sister out. “Team Daisy! Team Daisy! Team Daisy!”

Dawnstipe waved her tail again for the two youngest apprentices to quiet down before she explained the terms: while she’d chosen the teams ahead of time, it was up to the teams themselves to delegate in what order the cats would run. The apprentices on the winning team would automatically get to go to the Gathering.

At this, Wrenflight immediately turned to Morningpaw and Blackpaw with a clever glint to her eye. “Morningpaw, I think you should go first. Blackpaw goes second, and I’ll run last.”

Blackpaw bristled. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being overlooked by Wrenflight. The last runner was the most important in a race like this. Wrenflight would be the one to finish in an event thought up for the apprentices. “Why’s that?”

“A fast runner should go first to give a good head start,” Wrenflight explained levelly, “but the fastest runner should go last to recover any time lost in the previous stages of the relay race.”

Morningpaw nodded along with Wrenflight as though she found sense in the warrior’s words. She nudged Blackpaw’s shoulder. “Being second runner won’t make you try any less, would it?”

“Of course not,” Blackpaw said. “It’s only that I think an apprentice should finish off a race meant for the apprentices. I agree with the strategy, but won’t it be easier to see where Morningpaw or I fall if one of us finishes the race?”

“You don’t want to win?” Wrenflight teased. “But I see your point. I’ll go first, and Morningpaw can finish the race.”

“Is everyone ready?” Talltail called. At the affirmative responses, everyone began to head to their places.

.

“Go!” Blackpaw could just hear Dawnstripe’s voice over the wind. He watched Wrenflight, Dawnstripe, and Deadfoot launch themselves from Outlook Rock and charge towards the lavender bush where he, Mudpaw, and Talltail were waiting. His whiskers twitched. Blackpaw was glad to have a little extra sleep for today’s training session. He had never taken part in a relay race before, and his main experience with his running had been to do laps around the moor to build his speed and stamina.

This was something more like he would be expected to do when taking messages to and from the sentries at Outlook Rock: tearing through a certain distance, making sure not to tire himself out before reaching his Clanmates. His paws tingled. Blackpaw itched for Wrenflight to reach him so he could blast off.

Wrenflight’s youth and long legs allowed her to take a lead over the other two warriors. She looked completely at home under the sunny clear sky, the wind caressing her brown tabby fur. Dawnstripe and Deadfoot were not far behind the younger warrior. Blackpaw could see that his mentor’s eyes were narrowed with concentration. He glanced at Talltail next to him, who was on Deadfoot’s team, and set his jaw. He could scarcely hope to beat his father in an even race, so he just hoped that Wrenflight could give him an ample head start.

Mudpaw was tense underneath his dark pelt as he watched the warriors approach. Blackpaw crouched beside him and purred, “Nervous?”

The older apprentice snorted. “You’re no challenge for me. But for a race against Talltail, definitely.”

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” Talltail said with a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

“Not asking you to!” Blackpaw said, digging his claws into the earth. He knew that he’d improved with his training, but Blackpaw was curious to see just how far he’d come. A simple race could show his skill much better than a hunting assessment, where luck played a far larger factor in catching a rabbit.

Dawnstripe slowly gained on Wrenflight, but with a final push the younger molly shot forward and reached the lavender bush. Wrenflight touched Blackpaw’s nose with her own and Blackpaw was off before she had even fully stopped.

In a heartbeat, he could feel Mudpaw’s breaths at his heels and he knew that the advantage that Wrenflight had given him was slim. Blackpaw trained his eyes on Morningpaw in the distance, who would be running the last stretch of the race back to Outlook Rock. She, Ashpaw, and Tornpaw were waiting for their team members at the rock pile.

He just needed to get to Morningpaw and she might bring their team the win. But Blackpaw figured that he would need to go even faster if he wanted to give Morningpaw an edge against the other teams. He dared to take a look at his competitors and wished immediately that he hadn’t.

Already Talltail was beginning to overtake him despite being the last cat to leave the lavender bush. Mudpaw was still on his heels. He sucked in a breath and narrowed his eyes, trying to judge the distance from where he was pelting past the cool waves of grass to where Morningpaw waited for him.

“Remember your endurance, Blackpaw!” Deadfoot called out from behind him. Blackpaw felt a little glow of delight in his chest. Even though they were on competing teams, Deadfoot was still his mentor. He wanted to see Blackpaw succeed. “You’re going too fast!”

Easy for him to say! Deadfoot wasn’t running against the fastest cat in the Clan. Still, he knew that his mentor was right: this speed was unsustainable for the entire duration of his stretch. If Blackpaw tried to keep up this pace, he would crash long before he reached Morningpaw. Begrudgingly, he let his pace drop enough for Talltail to fully take the lead. He was paw-to-paw with Mudpaw now.

“Giving up so soon?” Mudpaw puffed out.

“I should be asking you that!” Blackpaw shot back.

At the rock pile, Morningpaw had jumped to her paws. She and Ashpaw were wriggling around excitedly as they watched their teammates race ever closer, while Tornpaw only looked focused. Now a few fox-lengths away from them, Blackpaw put on a final burst of speed to break away from his near-tie with Mudpaw. He came to Talltail’s shoulder, but Mudpaw reacted quickly. He was on top of Blackpaw. This race would be closer than he thought.

“I’m back!” he chirped up to his father.

Talltail started and glanced over to him, delight twitching his whiskers. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

“Only ever right behind you!” Blackpaw panted out.

Talltail reached the rock pile and touched noses with Tornpaw first, but his lead was minor: Blackpaw and Mudpaw skidded to a halt right behind him, and Morningpaw and Ashpaw took off heartbeats later. Blackpaw fell back onto the sun-warmed stones and stretched out, fighting to catch his breath.

Mudpaw shoved one of Blackpaw’s hind legs out of the way and collapsed beside him. Between his panting breaths, Mudpaw managed to get out, “You’re no slug anymore, are you?”

The older apprentice’s praise warmed Blackpaw far more than the greenleaf sun overhead, and he purred.

“Of course not,” Talltail said fondly, dropping down on Blackpaw’s other side. He rested his chin on his kit’s heaving flank and Blackpaw flicked his ears. “Soon he’ll be faster than Windstar herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Blackpaw mewed. He gently turned over, leaving Talltail to catch himself as Blackpaw slipped from under him. Blackpaw wanted to see how Morningpaw was faring against Ashpaw and Tornpaw in the final stretch of the relay. He squinted, but couldn’t quite tell who was in the lead. Tornpaw and Ashpaw were both blurs of gray, and Morningpaw’s tortoiseshell tail poked up over the heather.

He heard a yowl come from Outlook Rock, but it didn’t belong to any of the previous runners. Dawnstripe, Wrenflight, and Deadfoot were still on their way back to the starting place. At the call, they picked up their pace and Blackpaw looked to Outlook Rock to see Doespring standing there, her tail bushed. Instantly Talltail and Mudpaw had scrambled up to their paws and began sprinting back to Outlook Rock, relay race forgotten. Blackpaw lagged behind them. He had given the race his all and didn’t have it in him to put on his top speed anymore.

When they arrived to Outlook Rock, Dawnstripe filled Talltail in: a RiverClan patrol had caught Doespring’s hunting party within their borders.

“We retreated and left the prey,” Doespring meowed. “I know it seems like I came here for reinforcements, but I didn’t see reason in staying to fight on RiverClan land. I sent the rest of my patrol to hunt within our own borders. As we left, Oakheart said he couldn’t wait for the Gathering tonight.”

Talltail shook his head. “A border skirmish on the day of the Gathering, no less. Tonight will be interesting.”

“StarClan won’t be pleased,” Deadfoot agreed. “But I’m curious about what Hailstar will say to explain himself.”

“I doubt there’ll be a Gathering tonight,” Dawnstripe said with a look to the sky. Clouds had started forming, muting the golden sun rays. If the clouds lingered and blocked the moon completely, the Gathering would be canceled altogether.

Morningpaw and Ashpaw looked disappointed at this turn of events. Not only had the relay race been interrupted, but now it seemed as though neither of them would be getting to meet the other Clans tonight.

Deadfoot too looked frustrated, but Blackpaw knew it was for different reasons. Neither his words nor his tone had betrayed whether he believed Heatherstar was in the right to decide to hunt on RiverClan land. But at the very least he had wanted Hailstar to answer to the other Clans for Hickorynose's death. 

“We don’t know for sure,” Talltail said. “Barkface will make the call after sundown. We should go home to let Heatherstar know. She will want to be prepared for hostility tonight in any case.”

“As though we weren’t expecting any hostility already,” Wrenflight muttered as they all got ready to head back to camp.

Once evening fell, the sky had become totally overcast. There would be no Gathering this moon.