Chapter 2

Rusty's ears flattened against his head as he crouched down, his heart skipping a beat. The ginger tom could see Littlepaw cowering fearfully in the corner of his vision as the two dark brown cats loomed above him, snarling and spitting. They were huge, nearly twice as big as Rusty, and their pelts were covered in battle scars.

"Well, Littlepaw," growled one of the huge toms. He looked as if he had more scars covering his body than fur. "Would you care to answer your leader's question? What are you doing here with this mangy kittypet?"

Rusty looked over to his new friend. The small tom swallowed, looked toward the larger of the two wild cats, and mewed, "I was just… patrolling the border, Brokenstar." Littlepaw bowed his head submissively.

The cat to whom Littlepaw had referred as "Brokenstar" tilted his large head; his glaring amber eyes glinted like unsheathed claws in the moonlight, primed to slice and scrape and tear. "Patrolling the border?" His voice reminded Rusty of the calm rumbling of thunderclouds before a lightning storm erupted violently in the sky. "By yourself? When you've barely been an apprentice for one moon?" At this, Brokenstar's voice almost seemed to purr, as if amused. But Rusty could hear the venom that coated the tabby's words.

"I'm so sorry, Brokenstar, it's just that—I, uh—I…" Littlepaw flicked his tail nervously. "I found an intruder in our territory!" Littlepaw nodded toward Rusty, glancing at the two older cats for approval.

"Obviously," Brokenstar responded, his voice still dripping with venom. "Now, Clawface," Brokenstar turned toward his companion, "this would be a good training opportunity for your apprentice." The battle-scarred brown tom, Clawface, smirked. "I can teach young Littlepaw what ShadowClan cats do to trespassing kittypets." Brokenstar spat out the last word as he unsheathed his enormous claws.

Fur fluffing up, Rusty shook his head and began stumbling backwards. "Please, no, please, I didn't know…" Rusty's frantic mewing slowly grew louder into a screech as Brokenstar led Littlepaw to Rusty. The large tabby's eyes burned, while Littlepaw's were full of barely-concealed fear.

"Go ahead," Brokenstar said in that terrifying purr-growl. "Go ahead and run, little kittypet. I'm no WindClan cat, but I can't deny that I sometimes love to chase my prey."

Fur on end, Rusty turned tail and ran, his paws squelching in the muddy ground. Almost immediately, he found himself tangled in a bramble. The ginger tom yowled and tugged his way out. The thorns scraped along his pelt, leaving him with stinging wounds. Feeling weak, Rusty remembered that he had already escaped death once that day. His leg muscles burned and his tail whipped side to side in the biting, chilly wind. Rusty realized that he had never felt more alive.

"Is that really the best you can do?" jeered Brokenstar. With a start, Rusty realized that the giant tabby was easily keeping pace with him, his thickly-furred legs pumping back and forth effortlessly. Rusty felt as if the icy wind had entered his blood stream. Trying to force his weary legs to rush faster, the ginger tom turned his head back in front of him, only to find that a fallen log blocked his vision. Almost instinctively, Rusty leapt up and scrambled to get a grip on the mossy bark. Easily jumping to the top of the log, Brokenstar sat patiently as Rusty finally scrambled up beside him, only to slip and fall to the swampy mud on the opposite side.

The mud-splattered ginger tom found that he was so exhausted that he could not get to his paws. He closed his eyes as the pain of a full day's worth of running and digging and leaping returned. Rusty's lungs felt as if they were on fire, and he breathed heavily. His ears flicked at the sound of Brokenstar leaping down from the log to the earth next to him. The tabby was later joined by Littlepaw and the brown tom, Clawface. Rusty felt two massive paws slam down on his back, claws unsheathed, which was followed by the feeling of hot breath on Rusty's neck.

"Now, watch closely, Littlepaw, as I…" Brokenstar paused, breathing in deeply. Rusty, his eyes still closed, wondered what had caused the tabby to stop right before killing him. Brokenstar breathed in again and then pushed his cold, wet nose into Rusty's neck, taking a couple small sniffs. The giant cat began to chuckle, pulling back from Rusty's neck. "Well, well. I must admit, I'm surprised." Rusty carefully opened his eyes and barely managed to turn his head wonderingly at the three wild cats.

Brokenstar flicked his tail at Littlepaw, gesturing for the much younger cat to come forward. Reluctantly, he obeyed, his blue eyes turned toward the ground. Brokenstar then turned toward the other large tom. "Now, Clawface, if you wouldn't mind me conducting another training exercise for your apprentice."

Clawface crouched down to the ground, calmly deferring to his leader. His eyes sparkled with both curiosity and maliciousness.

"So, Littlepaw," Brokenstar rumbled. "This will be a short assessment to see how well you've developed your sense of smell," he continued smoothly. "Go ahead and sniff around." Brokenstar nodded towards Rusty, who still felt as if he were paralyzed with exhaustion. Littlepaw padded forward and met Rusty's gaze apologetically. He took a couple hesitant sniffs over Rusty's dirty, matted fur.

"I smell…" Littlepaw paused, thinking. "I smell dirt… and, er… leaves on his fur."

Brokenstar rolled his eyes. "You could've found that out just by looking at him, frog-brain," he growled. "Smell further, deeper. Press your nose right into his fur." Littlepaw obeyed, and Rusty's neck felt cool where the small tom inhaled little breaths of air into his nose.

"Did you smell it?" Brokenstar urged, gazing into Littlepaw's eyes excitedly.

Littlepaw kneaded his tiny brown paws into the ground uncomfortably. "I'm not sure." Clawface leaned forward, wondering what could possibly have Brokenstar so excited.

"Deeper than the scent of mud, of grime, of blood," began the tabby, "there is a little bit of… something else." The tom purred the last two words. "Beneath all of that, I expect you caught a hint of it. Something that seems just on the brink of smelling rotten. Littlepaw," he nodded at the young cat, his steady amber gaze never leaving the nervous blue, "I expect it conjured up images of a piece of crowfood, with just a hint of something sweet, like a rose. Perhaps it conjured up the image of three kits playing a dangerous game in a clearing—but perhaps you were too young to remember that. Either way, I'm sure it's a smell that will become familiar to you as our Clan expands its borders." Rusty's heart skipped a beat once again as he realized where the tabby was going with this. Drawing himself up menacingly for the big reveal, Brokenstar purred, "That, Littlepaw, is the smell of a dead cat."

Littlepaw gasped and drew back from Rusty immediately. "You... killed someone?" he mewed. It was as much a question as it was a statement. Echoing Smudge's actions from earlier that day, Littlepaw shivered.

"Don't be such a mouse-heart!" Brokenstar snapped. While the large tabby continued to harass the young cat, Rusty felt small droplets of strength trickle back into his muscles after his short rest. The ginger tom was able to get to his paws before Brokenstar turned back with an air of excitement surrounding him.

Clawface padded over to his leader's shoulder and hesitantly asked, "What do you think, Brokenstar?"

The tabby sat back on his haunches and gazed greedily at Rusty. "I think that ShadowClan could always use more warriors in its quest for more territory. I know that we are two apprentices down, in light of Mosspaw's death about a moon ago, as well as Volepaw's death shortly afterwards."

Rusty swallowed, afraid of what Brokenstar was suggesting, but, at the very least, thankful for his life. "You… want me to join your Clan?"

Clawface spat. "Do we really want a kittypet to live with our warriors, Brokenstar?"

Brokenstar looked sharply at the brown tom. "My warriors, Clawface."

Brokenstar opened his mouth to continue before Rusty interrupted him, saying, "I'm not a kittypet." Littlepaw shook his head warningly at Rusty from behind the two older cats. Rusty flicked his tail, nonplussed, as if to say, "at least I'm not getting killed."

"Well, that settles it, then," Brokenstar mewed triumphantly. "This young cat, er—what's your name?"

"Rusty."

"This young cat, Rusty, will begin training as a ShadowClan apprentice immediately." Brokenstar beckoned Rusty forward with a flick of his tail. Rusty noticed with wonder that the tabby's dark brown tail was bent in the middle.

"W-wait. Don't I get time to go back home and think it over?" Rusty mewed, thinking about Princess and Smudge.

Brokenstar's amber eyes darkened. "Why do you think you would get that?" he growled.

Rusty almost mentioned Princess and Smudge back in the Twolegplace before realizing that he didn't want this dangerous, crazed cat to have any knowledge of the two cats he was closest to. "I… need to settle some things," Rusty mewed vaguely. If these cats allowed him to return now, he may be able to hide from them forever among the dark shadows of the maze of alleys within the Twolegplace.

Unfortunately, Brokenstar seemed to have the same idea, as he growled, "No. You come with us. Now." Rusty glanced down at Brokenstar's claws as they slowly unsheathed, and the ginger tom nervously realized what the alternative to his apprenticeship was.

The four cats started their journey towards the ShadowClan camp with Brokenstar in the lead, followed by Rusty with Littlepaw at his side. Clawface took the rear, occasionally nudging Rusty forcefully with his head to get him to move faster. The ginger tom was sick and tired of the dampness of the muddy earth beneath his feet, having become accustomed to the dry, flat, and hard ground of the Twolegplace. To Rusty's disgust, Brokenstar led the group through many a muddy puddle, making him wonder how he would ever get himself clean. Rusty shook himself and inwardly sighed. At least I'm alive, he thought to himself. At least he had that one hopeful thought to hold onto. The moon appeared in the sky above the four journeying cats, later joined by a multitude of winking stars. Rusty surveyed the black cover of night and, with a sickening jolt, was reminded of Princess and Smudge once again. His two friends seemed as far away from Rusty as the moon. I'm entering a new world tonight, he thought, unsure of how exactly to feel. Perhaps his mind was holding back his emotions, because having emotions right now would surely cause Rusty to collapse, or to try to escape and subsequently get murdered at the claws of an angry Brokenstar.

Rusty's introspective thoughts were interrupted by Littlepaw. The small tabby was muttering something that Rusty could hardly hear as his wide blue eyes gazed up at the twinkling stars above them. Straining his ears, Rusty caught a few of the words that Littlepaw seemed to be pleading to the silent and oblivious stars: "StarClan, I know you've been absent lately, but if…" Rusty didn't catch the rest of what the small tom said. Soon after the near-silent murmuring stopped and was replaced by a hollow silence.

Rusty edged closer to the small tom, their pelts nearly brushing. He inclined his head and mewed quietly, "Who's StarClan?"

Littlepaw glanced up at Rusty and then quickly looked away. "They're the spirits of our warrior ancestors," he mewed tightly. "They live up in Silverpelt." He flicked his tail to point at the swath of stars above them. He didn't meet Rusty's gaze.

A thorn of sadness pricked Rusty's heart as he realized that the small cat, who seemed like the only decent cat among the wild cats so far, thought him to be a murderer, not unlike his clanmates, Brokenstar and Clawface. Silence grew between the two young toms, and Rusty, in an effort to return to the friendly interactions they had shared before the arrival of the two older cats, tried to think of something to say. He began, "The stars look so…" What was the word Rusty was looking for? "Beautiful"? "Sparkly"?

"Far away," Littlepaw finished for him. Rusty realized with a start that the small tabby had voiced what Rusty, himself, had been thinking only a few moments ago.

Before they were able to continue with their conversation, Rusty's attention focused on a giant, ancient-looking tree that had appeared in front of the group of cats. Its wood was jagged and blackened from burns. It was covered in small scratch marks that looked like they came from apprentice-sized claws over countless moons.

"Meet the Burnt Sycamore, Crusty," announced Clawface from the back of the group.

"It's, er, 'Rusty'," the ginger tom responded awkwardly.

"This is where you and the other apprentices'll learn how to stalk and hunt things in the night," Clawface continued, pretending that he hadn't heard the younger cat speak. "Watch and learn," the tabby growled, crouching low to the ground. With a yowl that sounded almost playful, he tackled his apprentice, Littlepaw, and, claws sheathed, batted him to the ground. "I gotcha! You're crowfood, now!"

"Stop!" Littlepaw cried, rolling onto his side to get away from his mentor. He panted nervously and got back to his paws.

Clawface growled at the young cat before Brokenstar interrupted, rumbling, "Hurry up, you three. I want to return to camp as soon as possible."

Clawface shot a sultry glare at his apprentice. "Just trying to have a little fun," he spat. Perhaps Rusty was being a little too hopeful, but he imagined that Clawface was being sincere about "just trying to have fun". Maybe these cats aren't really as bloodthirsty as I thought, Rusty wondered. Maybe they're just… misunderstood. Glancing at the broad shoulders of Brokenstar, Rusty decided that he wasn't too sure about him just yet.

Rusty felt as if they had been walking for moons before a prickly barrier of brambles appeared in front of the group and Brokenstar announced that they had arrived at the ShadowClan camp. The ginger tom couldn't help his paws prickling with excitement as he followed Brokenstar and Littlepaw through a tiny path that led through the brambles. The babbling of a large number of cats reached Rusty's ears before a large clearing opened up before him. His emerald eyes grew wide as he took in the scene. He hadn't thought that the wild cats lived in such an organized environment; the atmosphere seemed surprisingly friendly. That is, until the innumerable number of cats caught his scent and almost immediately stopped what they were doing. Countless pairs of glistening eyes burned into his pelt.

"Who's this disgusting mangepelt?" growled a pale brown tabby she-cat from beneath a large, prickly-looking bramble bush. Rusty's chest filled with embarrassment. He wished Brokenstar would've allowed him to wash himself before entering the camp full of judging eyes.

"This is ShadowClan's newest apprentice, Lizardstripe!" Brokenstar announced almost cheerfully. Hushed murmuring erupted throughout the clearing as more cats appeared in the clearing from beneath bushes and behind brambles to get a closer look at the newcomer. Rusty shuffled closer to Littlepaw, seeking comfort. He expected the apprentice to uncomfortably shift away, but Littlepaw instead allowed Rusty to get closer to him, albeit slightly awkwardly. Nevertheless, Rusty felt relieved.

Brokenstar continued, "As you all know, ShadowClan needs more warriors to aid us in our war for new territory, especially since the loss of two of our apprentices, Mosspaw and Volepaw." At this he nodded toward a mottled white tom, who stared back at Brokenstar unblinkingly. Rusty saw sorrow in the cat's deep amber eyes, but also a hint of something else—something darker. Perhaps he was their father, Rusty guessed.

"But, of course," Brokenstar persisted smugly, "I don't need to justify myself."

"Brokenstar, wait," a small ginger tabby she-cat spoke up from beneath a thorn bush. A milky scent wafted up from the hollow behind her, and Rusty noticed a tiny black-and-white kit peeking out from behind his mother. "Do we really think this cat can replace Mosspaw and Volepaw?" Rusty perceived that the young queen's voice trembled on the word "replace". He guessed that she must have been close to the two apprentices before their deaths. "Look at him," she continued. "He looks skinny and weak, and I can smell his fear scent from all the way over here." Rusty heard more murmurings come from the cats around him. Some sounded hostile, while others seemed unsure.

"Dawncloud is right," Brokenstar rumbled, his eyes glinting. "Perhaps we should give young Rusty a short test before we allow him to join my Clan." I don't want to join your Clan! Rusty screeched in his mind. I just want to get out of here alive and get back to my sister and my friend! "Let's see," Brokenstar continued, gazing around the clearing at all of his cats. His eyes stopped on a dark orange she-cat. She looked as if she had been quite the formidable warrior in her younger days, but those days were obviously close to ending. The fur on her muzzle was streaked with gray and there was a sense of tiredness in her shoulders that came with the onset of old age. "Amberleaf," Brokenstar mewed, half-purring, half-growling. "I think it's quite clear to everyone in our camp that you're getting old." Amberleaf's eyes widened and her hackles began to rise. "Now, we could send you out of the camp like all the other elders and let you die with them somewhere in the forest. But," Brokenstar's purr rumbled like a monster on the Thunderpath, "I have a better idea of what we could do with you." Brokenstar turned to Rusty. "Now is the time to show us what you're made of. I know this won't be too hard for you, as it will just be a repeat of what I know you did earlier today." Brokenstar paused, turning back towards the elderly ginger she-cat. "Rusty, I want you to kill her. Then you may join the Clan." The biting wind whistled through the camp, but the chill from the air was nothing compared to the chill in Rusty's heart.