Never Trust the Scribe (Starkit's Prophecy fanfiction)

Chapter One: The Rise of a Heroine (written by Stormrush)

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Mudwhisker watched as Nightkit strode confidently toward the Highledge, her sisters bounding after her. A tortoiseshell she-cat poked her head out of the nursery. She muttered under her breath before padding over to the kits and planting herself in front of them

“I know you’re eager, but you have to wait until Beechstar calls the meeting,” she chided.

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” meowed Lakekit, giving her chest fur an embarrassed lick. Flamekit’s tail drooped.

Nightkit, however, glared at her mother. “I know the others don’t always accept cats like us! You don’t have to remind me all the time.” Her fur began to puff out. “I’m not any different because you used to be a ShadowClan cat, Dawnsparkle. I’ll show them!”

Flamekit and Lakekit both flinched. The tortoiseshell recoiled, staring at Nightkit with hurt in her eyes. She visibly gathered herself before speaking.

“Nightkit,” mewed the tortoiseshell, very gently, “you know my name is Dawnclaw. You know I was born in ThunderClan. We’ve talked about this.”

Nightkit sighed. “I know,” she meowed, deflating. Hope sparked in Dawnclaw’s gaze, but her next words snuffed it out: “I just don’t like it when they talk about you like that, like being ShadowClan makes you a bad cat, or something.”

“She was always like this, for as long as I can remember.”

Mudwhisker nearly jumped when Jazzstar spoke. He’d forgotten she was there. He glanced over to her and saw that she was sitting now, her black tail wrapped tightly around her, tip twitching.

“Sometimes she would seem fine, like a normal cat, but then something would set her off and she would stop making sense. Like she was hearing a different conversation than the one you thought you were having. Like she saw things no one else saw.” Jazzstar’s tail thudded against the ground. “Like she had her own world.”

“Why?” Mudwhisker asked. “What could make a cat act this way?”

Jazzstar’s expression was grim. “You’ll find out.”

Mudwhisker didn’t like the sound of that.

When he turned back to Nightkit and her family, Flamekit was nudging Nightkit’s shoulder. It looked playful, but the edge of desperation in her voice gave it the lie.

“C'mon, Nightkit, you remember, don’t you?” she mewed. “I’m Flamekit, and you’re Nightkit, and this is Lakekit. That’s Dawnclaw. I don’t see Smokefang, but he can’t be far.”

If Nightkit meant to reply, she was cut off by a yowl from the Highledge. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”

All three kits brightened, but if Dawnclaw had looked anxious before, now she looked downright terrified. “Time to go, little ones,” she meowed, unnecessarily; the kits were already racing for the Highledge. Dawnclaw let out a mrrow of laughter, just this side of hysterical, and trotted after them.

Cats spilled out of their dens and crowded beneath the Highledge, murmuring. A gray tom padded over to Dawnclaw and sat beside her. He gave her head a comforting lick, though he looked almost as anxious as she did. Mudwhisker recognized Jazzstar among the crowd, scarcely older than the kits.

As the Clan assembled, a light brown tabby tom made his way down from the Highledge. His gaze swept over the throng of cats, and they quieted.

“Today, we gather to name three new apprentices,” he rumbled. Only two cats stood beside him, Mudwhisker noted, a black and white tom and a yellow tabby. “Lakekit, Flamekit, Nightkit, come forward.”

The kits darted toward him, Lakekit nearly crashing into him in her eagerness. Beechstar’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “Lakekit,” he began, “from this day forward, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Lakepaw.”

His gaze flicked to the yellow tabby. “Bumbleflight, you are ready for your first apprentice. You have proven yourself wise and courageous. I hope you will pass on all you know to Lakepaw.”

Mentor and apprentice touched noses, Lakepaw quivering with excitement.

Beechstar turned to Flamekit. “From this day forward, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Flamepaw.” Mudwhisker saw her mouth her new name as Beechstar focused on the black and white tom. “Vineclaw, you will train Flamepaw. I hope you will pass on your loyalty and skill to her.”

As Flamepaw and Vineclaw touched noses, Beechstar turned at last to Nightkit. “From this day forward, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Nightpaw. I will be your mentor.” He bent down and touched his nose to hers.

Nightpaw gasped. Startled hisses rose from the crowd. “I know it too,” Nightpaw whispered, nonsensically. Beechstar’s amber eyes narrowed in concern.

“Flamepaw! Lakepaw! Nightpaw!” the cats cried.

Nightpaw’s chant was ragged and uncertain. The whole Clan must know about her, Mudwhisker thought. His eyes went to Dawnclaw. Her shoulders sagged with relief. Perhaps she had been worried Nightpaw wouldn’t be apprenticed.

As the chanting died down, Flamepaw and Lakepaw chatted to their mentors, asking when they could start training and what they would learn first. Nightpaw, however, walked away from Beechstar and toward her parents. Beechstar tilted his head and watched.

The gray tom—Smokefang, Mudwhisker guessed—swallowed. “Congratulations, Nightpaw,” he mewed hoarsely.

But Nightpaw strode past him, to a ginger tabby who stiffened at her approach. Nightpaw glanced between him and Dawnclaw, eyes gleaming. “Jayfeather! Dawnsparkle! Aren’t you proud of me?”

Smokefang’s claws dug into the ground. Dawnclaw slumped even further. The ginger tom’s tail tip twitched nervously.

“My name is Sunstripe, not Jayfeather,” he began, in a tone that suggested he had memorized this speech from long use. “I am not your father. Your mother’s name is Dawnclaw, not Dawnsparkle. Smokefang is your father. He’s right there.” He pointed with his tail.

“Don’t bother,” Smokefang spat. “If it didn’t work the first hundred times, it’s not going to work now.” He stalked off, tail lashing.

“Smokefang, wait!” Dawnclaw started after him, then paused and glanced back at Sunstripe. “I’m sorry. He gets like this sometimes. I’m sure you understand.”

“No, it’s all right,” Sunstripe mewed to her retreating back, though his whiskers drooped. He turned to Nightpaw. “I’m trying not to give up on you, but you’re making it very difficult.”

Nightpaw gasped. Sunstripe drew back from her, blinking.

“Out of the darkness, stars will come and get rid of the evil tiger and holly,” she murmured, looking dazed. “What does it mean?”

“I couldn’t tell you, seeing as you just made it up,” meowed Sunstripe, dryly.

“Starkit’s Prophecy! It must be!” she mewed.

“Of course, you aren’t talking to me,” he meowed, as Nightpaw dashed off. “I wish I could figure out who you are talking to.”

Beechstar, who had watched the whole exchange, padded over to him. The throng of cats had dispersed; they were the only two under the Highledge.

“It isn’t your fault she is the way she is,” Beechstar murmured.

“I know,” sighed Sunstripe. “But maybe if Russetleaf were here—”

“Russetleaf was brilliant, but not even she could fix this,” Beechstar mewed firmly. His eyes followed Nightpaw, who was chattering excitedly at Flamepaw and Lakepaw near the apprentices’ den. By her sisters’ expressions, she wasn’t making much sense. “Some ailments are beyond a medicine cat’s abilities.”

“You can’t fix her either, you know,” Sunstripe pointed out with a sidelong glance at his leader.

Beechstar said nothing, gaze fixed on his apprentice.

Suddenly the scene shifted. Dawnclaw and Smokefang huddled together under a bush overlooking the ThunderClan camp.

Dawnclaw leaned up to rub her cheek against her mate’s. “You shouldn’t snap at Sunstripe like that, you know,” she meowed. “It’s not his fault.”

“I know,” Smokefang sighed. He licked Dawnclaw’s ear. “It’s just—What does he have that I don’t?”

“Nothing,” mewed Dawnclaw. “That’s not how Nightpaw’s… episodes work. There’s no reason behind any of it. She calls Rosepelt ‘Thornclaw,’ for StarClan’s sake. She thinks Rosepelt is a tom. It’s got nothing to do with you or him.”

“But she knows who you are,” Smokefang retorted. “She knows who Flamepaw and Lakepaw are. Why am I different?” Dawnclaw opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I know, I know, she calls you Dawnsparkle. But it’s not the same. She understands you’re her mother. I don’t think she even knows I exist.”

“That’s not true,” Dawnclaw objected.

“Really? Name one time she’s spoken directly to me.”

Dawnclaw lowered her gaze and remained silent.

Smokefang rested his head on hers. For a long moment neither said anything. “Maybe she calls Sunstripe ‘Jayfeather’ because he’s a medicine cat,” Smokefang mewed at last. “Maybe we shouldn’t have told her all those stories about Firestar and his kin. Maybe we shouldn’t have told her she’s descended from them.”

“If she hadn’t heard those stories from us, she would have heard them from someone else. Those cats are legends for a reason,” Dawnclaw replied. “And every cat in the Clan is descended from them, after so long. Well, except for Jazzpaw,” she amended.

Mudwhisker glanced at Jazzstar curiously.

“I was born a kittypet. ThunderClan took me in when my housefolk abandoned me,” she explained.

“I see.” Mudwhisker paused. “Jazzstar…”

“Yes?”

“You said I would find out what made Nightblaze the way she is,” he meowed. He looked at Smokefang and Dawnclaw, who had lapsed back into silence. “But even her parents don’t know how it happened.”

Jazzstar’s whiskers twitched. “Eager, are we? Very well. It seems to me that Nightblaze was driven mad by her Twoleg dreams.”

“Twoleg dreams?” mewed Mudwhisker, puzzled.

Jazzstar's eyes flashed, and the world Mudwhisker knew disappeared.

(Can I post? If not I'll delete this)
This is really good so far! Tbh Starkit normally makes me want to run in the opposite direction but I'm so glad I clicked on this c;

Wow, glad to see someone is finally trying to make a teeny bit of sense out of the whole Starkit's prophecy thing!

wow! this is actually really good, and i can't wait to read more. i never read starkit's prophecy, and i'm glad i never did, but this is VERY good

Thank you, everyone! Glad to see you're all liking it so far.

Seconded. Starkit's Prophecy is a masterpiece of bad.


Chapter Three: The Training under the Stars (Written by Stormrush)

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The scene shifted, and Mudwhisker and Jazzstar found themselves sitting inside Beechstar’s empty den. Mudwhisker’s gaze swept over the ThunderClan camp. Familiar to him though it was, he had never seen it this way, shrunk by the height of the little cave. He watched a big ginger tom poke his head out of the elders’ den, a dappled brown she-cat sniff at the fresh-kill pile, Nightpaw push into the apprentices’ den—but that wasn’t right. Hadn’t she just left it?

“We can travel in time as we please,” Jazzstar explained, anticipating his question. “I’ve taken us back a few moments. You should hear this conversation.”

She quieted as Ivystar and Beechstar appeared in the cave’s entrance, blocking Mudwhisker’s view. Suddenly Mudwhisker realized how small the den was; he pressed against the cave wall to let the leaders pass. It wasn’t enough; Ivystar walked straight into—and through—him. Mudwhisker flinched, but he felt nothing. Somehow that was stranger than any sensation he could have imagined.

“Preparing your apprentices for an invasion, are you?” mewed Ivystar with an amused twitch of her whiskers.

“Nightpaw is eager,” replied Beechstar. “Still, that’s no excuse for her behavior. Again, I apologize—“

“Oh, shut up, Beechstar,” Ivystar broke in, swatting him affectionately with her tail. “You’ve apologized twice already. If I have to hear you apologize a third time, we’re going to use up poor Sunstripe’s supply of herbs.” She glanced at her foreleg, which was swathed in cobwebs. “He’s got to be low on marigold as it is, seeing how he insists on treating every little scrape as though it were life-threatening.”

Mudwhisker stared at the two leaders in shock. He had never seen such a display of camaraderie between cats of different Clans. If Smokestar tried talking to Elmstar that way, he’d lose an ear. Or his life.

He turned to Jazzstar. “It was a time of peace, and they were old friends,” she explained, a note of longing in her voice.

Mudwhisker shook his head in wonder. In his time, other Clans were rivals at best, and ShadowClan had been an outright enemy. He had been killed by a ShadowClan warrior; he could still feel the burn as her claws raked over his belly. Even casual friendship with a ShadowClan cat would have been borderline treasonous.

In his astonishment he had missed part of the conversation. “You’re a special case,” Beechstar was mewing. “Now tell me, Ivystar. Why are you really here?”

All traces of humor drained from Ivystar’s expression. “I came to warn you about a group of rogues. They had been badgering our border patrols—not hurting them, just mocking them, telling them Clan life was stupid. We always chased them off, but we thought they were harmless.

“Until yesterday,” she continued, eyes dark. “A patrol stumbled across a group of them at the greenleaf Twolegplace. My warriors fought bravely, but there were too many. They killed Breezepaw, and Frostwhisker isn’t sure Falcontail will make it.” She seemed to have shrunk while talking, huddled in on herself and miserable. “I thought I should tell you, since they were last seen so close to your border.”

Beechstar’s eyes were wide with horror. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “Do you know how many of them there are, or where their camp is?”

“Their camp is somewhere north of our territory. More than that, I couldn’t tell you. As for their numbers…” Ivystar trailed off. “We aren’t sure, but we think there must be at least a dozen.”

“A dozen?” mewed Beechstar.

Ivystar nodded. “It’s hard to be sure, since the reports are coming from so many different cats, but if all of them are right, ten have been seen on or near our territory. Those ones talked as if there were more we hadn’t seen. They could be lying, of course, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

Beechstar’s expression darkened. “Most rogues don’t like to live with so many other cats. It’s what makes them rogues. There must be something in it for them, or the group would have already dissolved.”

“My thoughts exactly,” mewed Ivystar. “And now you see why I’m worried.”

Beechstar paused for a moment, tilting his head in thought. “Do you have enough warriors to lead an attack on their camp?”

Ivystar sighed. “And now you see the real problem. I’d want at least a dozen fully trained warriors to match them. I have that—as long as I don’t mind having to carry Falcontail to the battle, and leaving no warriors to guard the camp. For now, all I can do is send out larger patrols and hope to deter them that way.”

“Let us help, then,” urged Beechstar.

Ivystar looked as if she was about to argue. “Beechstar—”

“It only makes sense. You believe they’re a threat to ThunderClan as well, or you wouldn’t have come here. This isn’t charity, Ivystar. We both want them gone. I’m offering for my Clan’s sake as much as yours.”

“Fine,” Ivystar mewed grudgingly. “What did you have in mind?”

“We can take seven warriors each,” Beechstar meowed. “For untrained rogues, that should be enough, even if they outnumber us. I’d prefer to send scouts ahead of us to find their camp, but we can’t risk them being caught. We’ll have to find them and drive them out all at once.”

Ivystar mulled it over. “Fair enough. Let’s meet at sunhigh where your Twolegpath and mine join, the day after tomorrow.”

Beechstar nodded. “It’s been good to speak to you,” he mewed. “For all that I wish the circumstances were better.”

Ivystar grimaced. “I came to warn you, and somehow I would up groveling at your paws for help.”

“You did no such thing.” Beechstar brushed his tailtip against her shoulder affectionately. “I’ve never known you to beg, Ivystar. Even when it would been prudent.”

Ivystar huffed a laugh. “I didn’t ask your opinion.”

“I’ve never known you to do that, either.”

Ivystar shook her head. “The things I put up with. See you at the Twolegpath. Don’t kill any rogues without me.” She got to her paws and padded out of the den.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

At the entrance, Ivystar paused and glanced back. “Beechstar?”

“Yes?”

“You said Nightpaw was just made an apprentice today.”

“She was.”

“How did she know ShadowClan’s scent, then?”

Beechstar opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“Might want to look into that,” Ivystar mewed, and disappeared around the corner.

“How did she know?” Mudwhisker asked Jazzstar.

“Nightblaze… knew things, sometimes,” Jazzstar replied slowly. “I couldn’t tell you how. She always got the details wrong—mistaking Ivystar for Blackstar, for example—but she had knowledge she couldn’t reasonably have had. You’ll see.”

Beechstar was climbing down the tumble of rock that led to the Highledge when Nightpaw darted out of the apprentices’ den, shouting, “Firestar! Firestar!”

But she just called him Beechstar, Mudwhisker thought. Are her episodes really so random?

Beechstar leapt the last tail-length to ground and called, “Nightpaw? Who are you talking to?”

Nightpaw bounded up to him. “It’s time we train! I want you to show me how to fight.”

Beechstar blinked, taken aback. “It’s your first day as an apprentice. I’m going to teach you about hunting.”

“Okay,” Nightpaw meowed, “but you just saw I could fight, right?”

“Nightpaw, you took one swipe at a cat who wasn’t fighting back. Furthermore, you took one swipe at an ally. I’d hardly call that fighting.”

“Okay,” mewed Nightpaw.

Beechstar stared at her for a long moment as if waiting for her to argue.

Nightpaw looked expectantly back at him.

Beechstar shook his head in bewilderment. “Let me talk to Whiteflower first. Then we’ll be on our way.”

He trotted over to a gray-and-white she-cat who was standing near the camp entrance, Nightpaw trailing obediently behind him. Whiteflower’s eyes widened as he briefly explained the rogue situation and asked her to find seven warriors for the expedition. Nightpaw didn’t seem to be paying any attention; her eyes were glazed in the same way they had been when she attacked Ivystar. It made Mudwhisker uneasy.

Finally they left the camp, and Nightpaw perked back up. She thrummed with excitement like any normal apprentice on her first outing. Her eyes were bright and clear as she and Beechstar reached a grassy glade.

“We’ll start with the hunter’s crouch,” Beechstar mewed, dropping into position.

“Come on! That’s too easy!” Nightpaw yelled.

Beechstar’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. He started to reply, but broke off in a pained hiss when a dark blur raked down his flank.

Mudwhisker’s mouth dropped open. No apprentice should be able to move that quickly, least of all on their first day of training.

“I told you she knew things,” Jazzpaw meowed.

“Keep your claws sheathed, Nightpaw,” snapped Beechstar, sitting up. He craned his neck to inspect his flank; a thin trickle of blood ran through his fur. “That’s the second time today you’ve wounded a friendly cat.”

“Really?” mewed Nightpaw, her eyes wide.

“What in StarClan’s—yes, really,” Beechstar growled. His fur was beginning to stand up; he took a deep breath and it flattened again.

“Oh my gosh, really?” Nightpaw cried, looking horrified. “I’m like Scourge?”

“’Gosh’?” meowed Mudwhisker.

“A Twoleg word,” Jazzstar responded.

A puzzled frown crept over Beechstar’s face. He said nothing, watching Nightpaw carefully.

Nightpaw stood with her ears pricked and her eyes on him, just as though he were talking. “Oh, okay. Thanks,” she mewed after a moment. She relaxed.

All the anger had left Beechstar. His gaze was full of concern. “It’s worse than I thought,” he murmured.

Then Nightpaw leapt at him. Beechstar let out a startled yelp and slid to the side, narrowly avoiding being tackled. Nightpaw spun around and came at him again. Beechstar swatted her aside with ease and she tumbled to the ground, but he had to pounce on her to keep her there. Nightpaw wriggled underneath him.

Earlier Beechstar’s anger had blinded him to her skill, but now Mudwhisker watched realization dawn on his face. He cocked his head and mewed, “Where did you learn that?”

Nightpaw didn’t reply.

Beechstar shook his head in confusion for the second time that day. “You did say you could fight.” He let her up and slipped into a defensive stance. “Let’s fight, then.”

Mudwhisker looked on in amazement as the sun crept higher in the sky. Nightpaw’s moves weren’t particularly clever, and were obviously unpracticed, but she would have made short work of him on his first day as an apprentice. By the time the sun touched the horizon, she and Beechstar were both panting with exertion.

Without warning, Nightpaw sat down heavily. “Hey, Firestar, can we hunt now?” she mewed. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“Not surprising, after all that hard work you did.” Beechstar gave her a calculating look. “Show me what you’ve got.” He padded into the trees, beckoning Nightpaw with his tail.

Nightpaw began to look dejected after scaring off two sparrows in the row. “Don’t worry,” Beechstar mewed around a squirrel. “It’s only your first time hunting. Your crouch is certainly better than mine was at your age.”

“Second,” Nightpaw corrected absently. A feather had drifted down as the second sparrow flew away; she speared it with a claw and stared at it glumly.

Beechstar dropped the squirrel. “You’ve been hunting before? Was that when you picked up ShadowClan’s scent?”

Nightpaw gave him a curious look. “I had my first time when I was a little kit. You and I snuck out together. It’s why you chose me as your apprentice. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh. Yes—yes, I, yes, that’s it,” Beechstar stammered. “Of course. How could I have forgotten?”

“He’s playing into her delusions,” Mudwhisker mewed. “Is that a good idea?”

Jazzstar shrugged. “Correcting her wasn’t helping. I suppose he saw no reason not to try it.”

In the end, Nightpaw managed to take an old vole by surprise. She looked ready to burst with pride as she carried it into the camp. She dropped it on the fresh-kill pile and turned to Beechstar. “What now?”

Beechstar deposited his squirrel and a robin onto the pile. “Now you need to eat,” he purred in amusement. “There’s a whole day of training tomorrow.”

“Alright. See you in the morning, Firestar!” Nightpaw snatched her vole back from the pile and trotted toward the apprentices’ den.

“Kits,” Beechstar muttered with a twitch of his whiskers. “Where do they get their energy?”

“They steal it from their elders,” mewed Whiteflower, padding up behind him. “Were you going to eat that robin?”

“I’m more in the mood for mouse.” In unspoken agreement, they grabbed their meals and sat down beneath the Highledge to eat together.

When Beechstar had swallowed the last bite of his mouse, he asked, “Did you get enough volunteers to fight the rogues?”

Whiteflower spat out a feather. “The trouble was getting down to seven. Ten warriors volunteered, and Foxpaw and Daisypaw insisted they were old enough to go too. I had to tell them their job was protecting the camp before they’d leave off.”

“That is their job,” Beechstar pointed out.

Whiteflower snorted. “They’ve been apprentices for two moons. They’d be worse than useless if anyone attacked and you know it. Protecting the camp is my job.” She suddenly changed the subject. “And how was your little experiment’s first day out?”

Beechstar’s tailtip twitched; Mudwhisker got the feeling he didn’t like hearing Nightpaw called an experiment. “Nightpaw did well,” he replied coolly. “Better than I did on my first day. It seems she learned a thing or two on her own.” He hesitated. “She mentioned sneaking out of the camp as a kit. Do you know anything about that?”

“No.” Whiteflower took a final bite of her robin and pushed it aside. “That kit isn’t subtle, even for a kit, and someone is always at the entrance to the camp. She would never have gotten past my guards. Must be another of her delusions.”

“Must be.” Beechstar got to his feet. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning, Whiteflower.” Whiteflower dipped her head as he padded away.

The scene changed. Nightpaw was curled up in the apprentices’ den, staring at the rocky ceiling of the cave. She glanced over to Jazzpaw, whose eyes were tightly shut, though her breathing suggested she was awake. “Do you think we’ll ever be up there?”

“Nightpaw,” Jazzpaw groaned, “shut up.”

“Yeah,” Nightpaw breathed. She looked back at the ceiling. Her eyes, full of warmth, began to slide shut.

Then she jumped up and yowled, “NOT IN THAT WAY, YOU SICKOS!” and woke half the camp.

Sorry for the delay. Cloudysky is in graduate school and that does not leave a lot of free time for writing fanfiction lol

Chapter Four: Starpaw Nightpaw Decides (Written by Cloudysky)

The following morning, Mudwhisker and Jazzstar watched as the warriors chosen by Whiteflower assembled in the middle of the camp, their pelts gray in the pre-dawn light. Whiteflower herself was among them, and as Mudwhisker waited, Beechstar emerged from his den on the Highledge and bounded down the rocks that led up to the ledge to join them.

"Are we all ready to go?" he asked Whiteflower in a low voice, his face somber.

"We are," responded Whiteflower. "Our warriors are Stormwing, Stonepelt, Redfur, Fawnskip, Bumbleflight, Shadeleaf, and Icepool, and you."

Beechstar nodded in understanding. "All right," he said. Raising his voice slightly to address the gathered cats, he added, "We are going to meet with Ivystar and some of her warriors at the place where our Twolegpaths meet in order to fight the rogues that have been bothering ShadowClan and may well come to bother us. We're not aiming to kill them - we just want to scare them off and make them understand that this area is ours, and that if they want to attack our Clans, they are going to pay the price!"

Though it was early and most of the cats were trying to stay quiet and avoid waking their Clanmates, a slow murmuring of approval broke out among the gathered warriors - the equivalent of yowls of agreement. Mudwhisker couldn't help letting out a snort at the quiet murmuring.

"Let's go, then, to meet Ivystar," Beechstar said, turning and heading toward the entrance to the camp. When he reached it, though, a quiet mew from behind him caught his attention. He turned to look, and saw the light-colored pelt of Sunstripe, standing at the entrance to his den. Whiteflower had walked over to his side and was standing next to him.

"Good luck, Beechstar," Sunstripe meowed. "May StarClan be with you."

Beechstar nodded once, and then turned again to face the entrance to the camp. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his way through the tunnel, and the assembled cats filed through after him.

"How does the battle go?" Mudwhisker asked, hesitantly. This wasn't what he was here to see - Jazzstar had brought him here to watch Nightblaze's life - but he couldn't help but be curious.

"Let's find out," said Jazzstar, and before Mudwhisker could say anything else the scene shifted, and Mudwhisker found himself staring at a clearing in the woods - one he recognized well: the part of the border where both Clans' Twolegpaths met.. Seeing it made his blood boil - this was one place where he had battled ShadowClan before, as an apprentice. Here, though, there were no yowling cats fighting among the grass, no blood stains turning the forest floor red, no unmoving bodies scattered around the clearing. Instead, there were simply two groups of cats, acting cool around each other but clearly not enemies, and two leaders, talking as friends at one side of the clearing.

"You said the camp was north of your territory," said Beechstar, looking thoughtful.

"I'm not sure exactly where," responded Ivystar, and Mudwhisker thought he caught a hint of embarrassment in the ShadowClan leader's voice. "I asked Redcloud, one of our best trackers, to see if he could tell where the rogues' camp was located based on the scents around the border. But they are everywhere. It looks as though the rogues really do wander the entire area north of our territory."

"That's a problem," Beechstar said, his voice a low rumble. "Without any better idea of where they are, this means that we have to go searching for the camp, which gives the rogues the chance to get the jump on us - not to mention, even if we do find them before they find us, we will be fatigued from searching."

"My thoughts exactly, Beechstar," Ivystar agreed, lowering her head. "In that case, maybe -"

It seemed that Beechstar knew what she was going to say, for his fur fluffed up in defiance. "No," he interrupted. "We came here to find the rogues and drive them away. That's what we're going to do."

Ivystar looked at Beechstar. Her pale green gaze was thoughtful. "All right, Beechstar," she finally said. "No, you're right. We have to do this. For the sake of my Clan if nothing else." Her eyes were now burning with an anger that Mudwhisker hadn't seen her with before, even after she had explained the death of one of her Clan's apprentices. She got to her paws and nodded to Beechstar before the two leaders, in an unspoken agreement, headed back to where the rest of their Clan warriors were gathered.

"We're going," Ivystar announced abruptly. "Everyone, be on the lookout for any scent trails that you think might lead to their camp. Redcloud, you especially need to be paying attention. Hailcloud, be wary of any cat taking us by surprise. Give the battle call if you scent any rogue approaching us."

Ivystar's gaze was locked on a big white tom, who nodded as she spoke. "You can count on me, Ivystar," he replied in a low grumble. Ivystar nodded back.

"All right," she said, "let's go." It was an order, but Mudwhisker couldn't help but feel that she was addressing herself just as much as she was addressing the assembled warriors.

The two Clans' warriors trekked through the forest at the northern edge of ShadowClan territory. Mudwhisker let out a shiver, despite himself: the last time he had been anywhere close to ShadowClan territory was during the battle that had cost him his life, and he was not too pleased to be back in the enemy's territory - even if it was as a StarClan cat, and even if it was in a time before he had even been born. Jazzstar, however, did not seem to have any such reservations. She pushed on, following the party without so much as a glance back at Mudwhisker, so Mudwhisker had to swallow his pride and follow her.

Beyond ShadowClan's northern border, the forest seemed to continue indefinitely, though it was hillier than the territory immediately surrounding the lake, and the trees were fewer. Mudwhisker wondered to himself how many Clan cats had ever come this far out of the borders before. They trekked for longer than he would have expected, as well; the sun was beginning to poke through the trees when suddenly -

"I smell something," Ivystar said suddenly, stopping in her tracks.

"It's the scent of the rogues!" commented another ShadowClan warrior, his hackles rising. "Their scent is coming toward us on the wind."

"That's a terribly strong scent," Beechstar murmured, his voice low. "Ivystar, how many rogues did -"

Beechstar never finished his sentence. Instead, a screech rang out over the forest, and a voice called, "Go! BloodClan! Attack!" Mudwhisker looked toward the source of the voice, though he couldn't see anything... until, suddenly, he saw several cats pouring over the edge of the hill, down toward the Clans' party. Five... ten... fifteen... they have at least twenty cats, Mudwhisker realized with a sudden, horrible sense of dread. Though they were taken by surprise, the Clan cats quickly reacted to their presence, dropping into battle stances and preparing to fight as a throng of cats moved down the hillside and attacked the Clans' party.

It took all Mudwhisker had not to attempt to leap into battle himself as the cats began to fight. The Clans were horribly outnumbered, and Mudwhisker wasn't sure if either Beechstar or Ivystar had realized it yet. He wanted desperately to call out, to tell them that they were fighting a losing battle, but there was no point to it, and Mudwhisker despaired as the battle raged around him.

He jumped back with a hiss - reacting instinctively; of course he did not need to move - as Beechstar and one of the rogues rolled by right near him. Beechstar was fighting valiantly, using some of the very same moves Mudwhisker had seen him use in his fight with Nightpaw the day before, but the rogue was ruthless - and Mudwhisker realized with an even more profound sense of horror that these rogues weren't just fighting, they were fighting to kill.

"Beechstar -!" he shouted, before remembering that he couldn't be heard. Instead, he looked over to where Jazzstar was standing a few tail-lengths away; the ginger she-cat's face was expressionless as she watched the fight.

A yowl close to Mudwhisker made him jump, and he looked back at the battle. It was a ShadowClan cat, yowling in pain as a rogue bit down on her foreleg. She tried to shake him off, but even as she did, another rogue leaped at her and landed on her back; the she-cat fell underneath the other cat's weight.

They're too badly outnumbered, thought Mudwhisker. Oh, StarClan, no...

He was spared, however, from having to witness the outright destruction of two Clans' most battle-ready warriors, for suddenly, a much louder yowl was sounding above the sounds of battle.

"We're outnumbered!" yowled the voice, which Mudwhisker recognized as Beechstar. "Ivystar! We have to retreat! Everyone! ThunderClan! ShadowClan! Retreat!"

It seemed that most of the Clan cats wanted to do that; within mere moments the Clan cats were disengaging themselves from the rogues and running off - though Mudwhisker noticed some of them were limping and, even worse, that some Clan cats were laying on the ground, injured, unmoving, and unable to get to their paws and retreat with the rest of the Clan warriors. Mudwhisker's heart sank as he realized what this meant for those who were left behind.

The scene shifted, and Mudwhisker found that he was in the middle of the ThunderClan camp. Around him, the warriors whose valiant fight he had witnessed that same morning sat or stood. Almost all of them were bleeding or injured in some way. Sunstripe was rushing around, tending to the cats who needed help, while Beechstar was sitting a short distance away from the group, looking at the ground blankly.

As Mudwhisker watched, Whiteflower padded up to him. "It's not your fault," she said reassuringly, though Beechstar turned his head away from his deputy in a manner that suggested to Mudwhisker that her words rung hollow. "Ivystar underestimated the danger. Not you. You have nothing to feel guilty for."

At this, Beechstar turned to face his deputy, his eyes filled with sadness. "Stonepelt died," he said, his voice cracking with grief on the second word. "My son, Whiteflower!"

Mudwhisker winced at the force of Beechstar's words; he noticed, though, that Whiteflower did not so much as move a whisker, and wondered to himself how she could be so stoic in the face of Beechstar's words. "He gave his life defending his Clan," she meowed evenly. "He knew the risks, and he chose to participate in the battle anyway. Beechstar - he chose to fight, even knowing how badly the rogues had hurt ShadowClan cats before. It's not your fault."

"You don't understand," said Beechstar, his voice cracking again. "You haven't had kits."

Whiteflower's tail twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Maybe not," she replied calmly, her voice steady and betraying no evidence that she had reacted to Beechstar's words. "Maybe I can't understand what it's like to have to lose a kit. But - you're not the only one who has, Beechstar."

Beechstar sighed. "I know," he said, turning to face Whiteflower. "That doesn't lessen the pain."

"No," Whiteflower agreed. "Only time can heal that wound."

Beechstar looked at Whiteflower curiously. "You sound like a medicine cat," he said. "Are you sure you didn't miss your calling as Russetleaf's apprentice?"

"I walked my own path," Whiteflower said stiffly, looking away from Beechstar. "It has led me to be deputy of ThunderClan, and I couldn't be more pleased that I am."

Beechstar stared at Whiteflower for a long moment. "You're the best deputy ThunderClan could ask for," he said finally.

"Come," said a voice, and Mudwhisker jumped as Jazzstar spoke. "This is the all we need to see of the day of the battle."

"W-what?" Mudwhisker stammered. "But - what happened with the rogues? And ShadowClan? Did -" He stopped as Jazzstar turned away impatiently.

"The Clan trains ever harder in response," she explained, "but ultimately, the next confrontation with the rogues would not come for several moons. They were injured too, and they lost some of their warriors. While recovering, they lessened their attacks on ShadowClan, and made no attempt to interfere with ThunderClan. Stonepelt's death wasn't in vain." Her eyes were fiery as she said the last statement, and Mudwhisker got the feeling she was trying to convince herself as much as him. When she turned back to face Mudwhisker, though, all evidence of her anger had faded, to be replaced with the weariness of a thousand moons.

"Let's see what Nightpaw gets up to," she said, and before Mudwhisker could respond, he found himself in the ThunderClan camp - again - only this time, it appeared to be late greenleaf instead of newleaf, as it had been when he and Jazzstar had first traveled to the ThunderClan camp.

"Three moons have passed," Jazzstar explained. "No other cat lost a life as a result of the battle."

That's good to hear, thought Mudwhisker. Without saying anything else, Jazzstar led the way to the apprentices' den. "Nightpaw has an... interesting... episode this morning," she explained, "one that kind of sets the tone for a fair few events in her future." Mudwhisker found that he wasn't sure whether to feel excited about seeing this or dread it. What did I get myself into?! he wondered.

In the apprentices' den, Nightpaw was sleeping on the moss. As Mudwhisker watched, Stormwing padded up to the den, poked his head inside, and said softly, "Nightpaw, wake up. It's time for the dawn patrol."

Nightpaw jumped up, fur standing on end, and looked around in what appeared to Mudwhisker to be abject terror. "Oh my gosh, who was that?!" she spat, glazed eyes seemingly missing Stormwing's presence as they scanned the den. Beside her, Lakepaw rolled over and muttered something about needing to get away from Nightpaw's loudness.

"Oh m- huh? I-it's me, Stormwing," replied Stormwing, clearly confused at Nightpaw's overreaction. Nightpaw got to her paws and stared at Stormwing.

"Oh my gosh, Graystripe, what do you want?" she asked, her ears flat back against her head. Her eyes were glazed over, and Mudwhisker could tell she was having another ... episode.

"Graystr - No, Nightpaw, I'm Stormwing, remember? You're set to go on the dawn patrol with me and Beechstar..."

"Oh my gosh, Graystripe, that's so nice of you!" Nightpaw responded. Stormwing looked confused, his expression accurately reflecting how Mudwhisker was feeling. Just what is she thinking Stormwing said to her? he wondered. "But Firestar already asked me."

"... Yes, I know, Firest- uh, Beechstar - is the one who told you that we'd be going on the dawn patrol yesterday," Stormwing said. "I'm well aware of the fact that he already spoke to you about it. Now, are you coming? Beechstar is going to claw your ears if we're late."

Nightpaw blinked.

"Oh my gosh, who was that?!" she said, her fur suddenly bristling again. Stormwing looked extremely taken aback.

"Nightpaw -"

"Oh my gosh, Graystripe, what do you want?" she asked. Stormwing blinked and then stopped responding to Nightpaw altogether. Despite his abject silence, Nightpaw continued, "Oh my gosh, Graystripe, that's so nice of you! But Firestar already asked me."

Mudwhisker turned to Jazzstar. "... She just repeated the same thing twice," he meowed, feeling even more confused than ever. "Is this -"

"That's the only time that ever happened," Jazzstar said. "No cat has any idea what resulted in that episode."

Weird. Mudwhisker shook his head and looked back to where Nightpaw was staring, still glossy-eyed, at a very, very confused and disturbed Stormwing.

"Why do you say that?" she asked Stormwing finally. Stormwing looked, for the briefest of seconds, relieved that she hadn't repeated herself yet again - only for his relief to be replaced with another round of confusion as he realized he hadn't even spoken to her this time.

"Nightpaw," he said, shaking his head, "we have to go meet Beechstar for the dawn patrol." He turned and padded away from the den, but Nightpaw didn't follow - instead, Stormwing (and Mudwhisker) flinched as Nightpaw's next words rang out loudly across camp.

"OH MY GOSH, YOU MEAN LIKE SCOURGE?!" she shouted. Stormwing, cringing, turned back to the den with a hiss.

"Nightpaw!" he spat. "Most of the Clan is still sleeping! Keep your voice down and come follow me to the entrance to camp already!"

Nightpaw, to Mudwhisker's astonishment, actually looked taken aback at Stormwing's words. "... Sorry!" she whispered, clearly internalizing Stormwing's statement about her loudness. "I'm coming, wait for me!" She left the den and padded alongside Stormwing to where Beechstar was sitting, looking mildly displeased, at the entrance to camp.

"She thinks I'm Graystripe and is off in her own world about it," Stormwing explained to Beechstar. Beechstar said nothing but nodded and gave Stormwing a glance to indicate he understood.

"She's here now," Beechstar said, his voice a low rumble. "Come on," he said, addressing both of them. "It's time to go on the dawn patrol."

Nightpaw followed obediently as Beechstar and Stormwing left camp. The three cats headed up through the entrance tunnel and into the forest. "We're going to the ShadowClan border first," Beechstar announced. Nightpaw nodded in understanding. Her eyes were clear again and there was a lucidity to them that starkly contrasted her wild-eyed expressions from earlier that morning. "But we are not going to attack any ShadowClan cats we see, all right, Nightpaw?" Beechstar said, looking at Nightpaw gravely. He clearly had not forgotten Nightpaw's aggression toward Ivystar from a few moons before.

"Okay," Nightpaw said in response. "They are our friends!"

For once, Beechstar didn't have an intelligent response, and Mudwhisker couldn't blame him. Nightpaw had made sense for once and been aware of her surroundings. It seemed like a miracle to Mudwhisker.

"It's not to last, though," said Jazzstar from Mudwhisker's side. "Unfortunately." The foreboding in her words unnerved Mudwhisker, who found himself apprehensively wondering what kind of craziness Nightpaw was about to spout.

Nightpaw was silent, though, as the three cats continued their journey to the ShadowClan border. It was fairly uneventful, as most patrols were - at least, until Nightpaw, fascinated by something in the sky that Mudwhisker could not see, fell face-first into a thorn bush.

She let out a screech and instantly began wriggling, attempting to extricate herself from the bush. Beechstar and Stormwing, who were a few steps ahead, turned in alarm when they heard Nightpaw's screech. The dark she-cat was stuck in the bush, though, and her wriggling was doing nothing but driving some of the barbs deeper into her fur.

"Hold still," Stormwing instructed with a growl as he padded back over to Nightpaw's side. Instantly Nightpaw stopped her wriggling, and Stormwing - probably in shock - hesitated for the slightest moment before grabbing Nightpaw's scruff in his jaws and pulling her back out of the thorns. She was bleeding from a few cuts on her head.

"You're bleeding," commented Stormwing matter-of-factly, and he gave her a couple quick licks on the head to clean off the blood. When Nightpaw raised her head again, Mudwhisker noticed that her eyes were glassy again...

"Well, maybe. But what would Firestar say?" she said, looking at Stormwing with skepticism.

"... What would I say to what?" Beechstar said in a low voice, looking at Nightpaw with a serious expression. Nightpaw, however, did not so much as acknowledge her leader and mentor's existence. She was fixated on Stormwing.

"OH MY GOSH, SURE THEN!" she suddenly shouted, and leaned forward to brush against Stormwing's leg. Both Stormwing and Beechstar froze.

"What in the name of StarClan is she -" Beechstar began, but he was interrupted by Nightpaw speaking again, seemingly not having noticed the interjection.

"Nothing, Firestar, go back to sleep!" she said, and this time she was looking at Beechstar, whom Mudwhisker suspected had only just appeared in her fantasy.

"... I wasn't sleeping," said Beechstar softly.

"Oh, okay," said Nightpaw, and this time she seemed to be responding to Beechstar. "You looked like you were. Anyway, yes."

Yes to what?! Mudwhisker thought. Nightpaw was maddening. He could only imagine how much worse it was for Beechstar and Stormwing at this point. He looked to them to see how they were responding - they were exchanging a glance.

For Nightpaw, though, their shared glance seemed to represent something else entirely. Her fur instantly stood on end and she ran between the two of them, casting angry glances at them. "Stop fighting already!" she hissed. "You can both be my mates."

Mudwhisker's blood ran cold. "That's what -"

"Delusions of grandeur," Jazzstar said, interrupting him. "She also had these ridiculously bizarre beliefs that every cat in the Clan was in love with her. ... No matter who they were or whether they had mates or whether they were moons and moons older than her," she added.

Mudwhisker looked back to the scene in front of him with a sort of sadness. There, Beechstar and Stormwing were exchanging a glance over Nightpaw's head.

"Beechstar," meowed Stormwing in a low voice, "you keep saying that Nightpaw is a talented hunter and fighter, and I don't disbelieve you, but even so... I don't know that she can become a warrior. Not like this."