"This way," Skygaze meowed, and slipped through a narrow gap into a twoleg nest.

Patches followed, hopping down into a massive abandoned twoleg den below the ground. Cats padded out of hiding places to watch, and only moments after Nightpaw's paws hit the floor, several cats streamed into the den behind them.

"Welcome Patches and Nightpaw," rumbled a tom's voice, and a handsome dark gray cat with even darker markings on his hind legs padded into the diffuse light. "You're just in time for the Star Pool. My name is Farseer, leader of this clan. Please, join us tonight."

Friendly and curious murmurs rolled through the ranks of the cats as Skygaze indicated to the newcomers to sit near the innermost edge of the ring of cats.

Between one heartbeat and the next, a shaft of moonlight filled a window, reflected off some bright twoleg thing, and filled the room with diffuse silvery light, pooling especially brightly on the ground within the ring of cats.

Skygaze stepped into the light and her fur immediately blazed around her as though she were lit from within by silver light.

"Cats of Starclan," she mewed clearly, "and visitors. Welcome to the time of Star Pool, when the spirits of our ancestors creep down from the stars to whisper wisdom of the past into our ears and allow us to share tongues with them again. Remember what was lost. Mew greetings to what is to come."

All cats responded with soft mews or rumbles of welcome.

Skygaze circled the pool of light, occasionally stopping and dipping her head to a cat here or there. To Nightpaw's surprise, she stopped before Patches and Nightpaw and dipped her head in welcome as well.

"Tonight, I received a sign."

An expectant, and hopeful murmur rolled throughout the cats.

"Moons ago, we received a prophesy. Patterns of light and shadow breaks away from the stars and hunts alone until it claims the night as its own. Moons ago, Patches left Starclan with its blessings and learned how to live alone. Tonight, you return, with the Night following at your heels." Skygaze never stopped moving: circling endlessly, her eyes glittering with reflected points of light, as though her head were filled with the spirits of the ancestors.

"Wha? Me?" Nightpaw squeaked.

Whiskers twitched around the circle.

"Yes you, Nightpaw. Patches trained amongst Starclan. He knows the ways of our clan life. Upon becoming a loner, he shed the name Patchpelt and became Patches."

"Am I to be Patchpelt once more?" Patches asked quietly.

"No."

The big tom's shoulders slumped.

"The ancestors sent me a new sign, regarding your fates."

Fates? As in, both of us? Patches lifted his head again.

"The loner and night travels far, pawprints stretching away to lands far beyond the gaze of Starclan. Russet red spills blood, and an ancient hate is washed away."

Nightpaw felt a shudder course through Patches, and she glanced up at him in askance. It sounded like a mixture of good and bad, but something seemed to horrify the powerful tom.

"It is time."

Skygaze padded out of the circle and pawed several objects out of a crack in the wall. She scooped them up in her mouth, an expression of disgust on her face. Cats of Starclan gasped in shock or hissed in horror, making way before the Watcher as though she carried Deathberries amongst them.

She spat them out at the edge of the pool of starlight, right at Patches' feet and he jerked back from them with a deep growl of loathing.

Nightpaw peered closer and gasped, backing up until her flanks bumped the paws of the cats gathered behind her.

Gleaming white and deadly sharp in the light were several dogs teeth.

"It seems their hate is not unknown to you, young Nightpaw." Skygaze had missed nothing.

"Stories…" Nightpaw swallowed and whispered, "Stories in my clan speak of the ruthless, merciless Bloodclan, who slew their enemies by reinforcing their claws with the teeth of dogs."

Skygaze's eyes seemed to pierce Nightpaw, who stared back, transfixed.

"We have all been told of the terror these teeth have brought upon other cats. The stories have passed down from queen to kit, as a lesson about the consequences of blood and power." Skygaze sighed deeply, "I have searched the ancestors for a sign so that we may rid ourselves of them safely. Tonight is the night. Patches, you must take these teeth to the lands where Nightpaw was birthed. There, you will cleanse them."

"If I must… then so be it…"

Nightpaw looked away as Patches carefully reinforced his sharp claws with the deadly teeth. They were too long to retract, and so they stuck out of his large, rounded paws... A constant reminder of their bloody, violent heritage.

"You do not need to wear them now…" Skygaze murmured, and Patches quickly reversed his movements, stripping them off and laying them aside. "When russet red spills blood, you may cast the teeth away." Skygaze promised.

Patches crinkled his nose as though catching a bad smell but did not say anything.

Farseer replaced Skygaze in the light and seemed to burn with a darker silvery light, but his eyes became like golden moons that seemed to eclipse his fur.

"Star Pool is not only about prophecy and signs." His voice, as smooth as river tumbled stones, seemed hypnotic to Nightpaw and she unconsciously leaned forward. "Tonight, we welcome the arrival of Lilysong's kits."

The darkness seemed to vibrate with proud purring as cats gently parted for a queen and a tom to pad into the light. Tiny kits squeaked softly as they were separated from their mother's warmth and laid out alone in the pool of light.

"Cats of Starclan and visitors, purr a welcome to Cedarkit and Robinkit." The queen, Lilysong, mewed.

The purring, if possible, deepened. Nightpaw didn't bother holding back a purr of her own, knowing how important kits were to the survival of a clan.

"Clan of the Skies," Farseer intoned, "Look upon these tiny sparks of life and shelter them in their frailest moments of life. Murmur your wisdom into their ears and help their hearts beat as one with the lifeblood of Starclan."

Nightpaw blinked and shook her head, positive for a moment that the kits lay surrounded by many starry-coated cats. They were all strange to her: ancestors of a different clan. But when she opened her eyes again, the warrior ancestors were gone.

Slowly the light faded as the moon moved away from the shiny twoleg thing. The proud parents retrieved their kits and vanished into the shadows to let them nurse at their mother's side.

As the meeting broke up, two forms no bigger than Nightpaw launched themselves at Patches. She sprang to her paws in alarm, then hesitated as Patches gave an exaggerated grunt and collapsed beneath the small flailing paws of what could only be kits, nearly old enough to be apprentices.

"Get him!" one mewed, small paws pummeling at the massive tom's broad shoulders.

Whiskers twitching, Patches lay flat on the ground with a moan of defeat.

"Yeah!" the other bounced around in front of him and patted his nose with a paw, "We sure got-" the rest of the kit's boast was lost in a gasp of shock as massive paws snaked out and dragged the young cat close.

Growling playfully, Patches thrust his nose under the small cat's middle, drawing a squeal of surprised protest from him.

"Eeeek! His nose is cold!" The kit squirmed free and bolted, leaving Patches to round swiftly on the other kit, who had been staring, wide eyed at the swift attack.

In short order, both kits had fled behind the hindquarters of their mother, wriggling and trying to rub the cold spot from their soft tummies.

"You were teaching those kits a lesson," Nightpaw accused softly as they shared a final piece of freshkill for the night.

"To kits, it is a game." Patches licked his whiskers clean, his yellow eyes distant with memory, "It was a game to me when I was a kit and my own father played with my siblings and me. As kits get older and learn to fight, the lesson sticks even if they do not actively remember it. When they are apprentices, they instinctively protect their soft bellies. As warriors, it saves their lives. They protect their bellies, and they are suspicious of cats that may only look defeated."

The light outside of the Starclan's camp was beginning to turn rosy and Patches stretched his jaws in a yawn. As the sun rose, he padded over to a soft nest lined with shredded paper and soft leaves; flicking his ears to Nightpaw in invitation.

"Forgive me," Farseer's voice rumbled softly, "I know you both are tired, but may I speak to Nightpaw alone?"

The Clan leader led the apprentice up a mountain of old twoleg things until they sat on the hard, flat surface of one of them.

"Look there." Farseer instructed Nightpaw. "Tell me what you see."

Nightpaw turned and found herself staring at the flat plane of a twoleg thing. To her surprise, two cats sat only a whisker length away!

A small black she-cat with dark amber eyes stared back at Nightpaw, eyes stretched wide in surprise and fascination. A large gray tom with darker stripes on his hind legs twitched his whiskers in gentle amusement at Nightpaw's surprise. Then she understood.

"It's us." She meowed.

"Very good. This is called a mirror. It is what reflects the Star Pool into our camp and guides the spirits of our ancestors down to meet with us. It also allows you to see things… special things... if you look at it right. All of our kits climb up here to stare into the mirror and tell their clan leader what they see, just before they become apprentices. Then, just before they become warriors, they climb up a second time. Finally, cats who become elders make their final ascent to look upon themselves once more."

After a moment of silence, Farseer touched Nightpaw's shoulder lightly with the tip of his tail. "Tell me young apprentice. What do you see?"

Startled, Nightpaw glanced again. "I see a young she-cat who's lost… a long way from home."

A lump formed in her throat. Grassblade, her mentor, would be hunting high and low throughout the territory. Possibly staring down the long dusty road that Nightpaw had fled along; fleeing before the hot, rancid breath and pounding paws of the fox pup that had chased her so relentlessly. Her mother had died shortly after Nightpaw and her sister Littlepaw were apprenticed. The clan had suspected that one of the foxes had done it. Her father, Sparkfire, spent his time with his daughters only to flatly comment on their training and the mistakes they made. Grassblade had nearly clawed his face off when he criticized her apprentice one too many times in her earshot.

"What else do you see?" Farseer murmured.

"I see…" Nightpaw gasped and blinked as her reflection seemed to waver.

When her vision cleared she saw a proud, beautiful she-cat with a sleek black pelt and golden eyes that seemed at once fierce, gentle, and humorous.

"I see a warrior." Nightpaw breathed, almost afraid to break the spell, "She's so many things I'm not." The reflected warrior gazed back into Nightpaw's eyes, a wealth of knowledge and understanding pouring through her eyes.

Delicately, but with a hunger she couldn't name, Nightpaw touched the mirror with her small paw. The warrior reached forward and touched the glass with her own. For just an instant the two seemed to reach across the divide and brushed against one another with the lightest of paw touches. Then the warrior vanished and Nightpaw gasped at the sudden loss, looking around frantically to see where the warrior cat had gone.

But the spell was broken. The rosy light outside the twoleg nest was starting to turn from rosy to the bright yellow of sunlight, and weariness dragged at the apprentice like mud after a heavy rain.

As she lay down next to Patches, she wondered if she could possibly walk in the pawprints of that beautiful glimpse of her own future. It seemed impossible.