Stoneclaw followed his Clanmates home on throbbing, clumsy paws. The rain had eased into a light drizzle, and he could see the rest of the battle party, their fur soaked and slicked back; their eyes gleaming with triumph despite the wounds and scratches that dappled their pelts.

RainClan had won the battle.

I should feel relieved, Stoneclaw thought, his paws stubbing on lose rocks and sticks as the party left the hillside territory of SunClan and headed toward their forest camp.

I should feel triumphant.

But there was a hollow, empty feeling settling in the pit of Stoneclaw's stomach - guilt.

Why do I feel guilty?

Warriors die in battle all the time. That's life.

But warriors don't need to kill to win their battles.

I didn't need to kill Yarrowtail.

Stoneclaw was still fighting with himself when the party of RainClan cats emerged in their camp. The cats who weren't at fight raced to greet them, chattering like a flock of starlings.

"What happened?"

"Did you win?"

"Did you beat SunClan?"

Thornstar, the RainClan leader, lifted his chin, eyes glittering like twin stars. "We won," he announced.

"Those mangy SunClan furballs won't be bothering us for a while."

Cheers filled the air.

Stoneclaw swallowed hard, feeling unsteady on his paws. He didn't notice that his mate, Honeytail, had slipped up beside him. She pressed her flank against his, resting her tail on his shoulders.

"What's the matter?" she inquired softly, concern lighting her amber eyes. "Aren't you going to celebrate?"

Stoneclaw glanced up. Thornstar was standing beside the fresh-kill pile in the center of the camp, tossing prey to his excited Clanmates.

"If this doesn't call for a feast, I don't know what does!" the striped leader purred.

"I... I'm not feeling too well," Stoneclaw stammered, his voice catching in his throat.

Honeytail stared at him. "Why? Are you hurt? Do you want me to get Pebbleskip?"

"No, it's not like that," the gray deputy rasped, barring her way to the medicine den with his tail.

"I just need to rest."

Stoneclaw brushed away from his mate and stumbled to the warriors' den, curling into a moss-lined nest. He tossed and turned until sleep claimed him, bringing with it dreams darker than the cloudy night sky above his head.