A kestrel wheeled overhead as the truth-teller and his apprentice set off from the DarkClan camp. Behind them, silent as owls, trailed two others - a grey she-cat and a ginger tom.
Nightpaw followed his mentor as best as he could, taking two rather large bounds for every one of Hailwatcher's massive steps. The small tom soon found himself short of breath, but he dared not complain.
The scorched earth of the moors burned the apprentice's unblemished pads and the grasses that rose up around him tickled and scratched his soft fur. If not for the truth-teller's aggressive pace, Nightpaw might have stopped to observe the scenery around him, innate curiosity driving him to explore the furthest reaches of DarkClan territory. The apprentice felt disappointment join his weariness as the patrol continued deeper into the moors, but he did not complain of this either.
Finally, the truth-teller came to a stop in a clearing where a large stone stood amongst the tallest grasses. Bunching his legs beneath him, he sprang onto it. The sun gave the giant tom's white and black fur a strange glow as he turned to Nightpaw.
"Do you know where we are?" Hailwatcher asked.
Nightpaw, who stood at the foot of the tall rock, turned his head slowly, observing the clearing. All around the rock were holes, big enough for the apprentice to move through.
"Is this where MoorClan's camp used to be?" the black tom asked.
"Very good," his mentor replied. "How do you know that?"
Eager to show off his knowledge, Nightpaw said, "The holes in the ground. MoorClan had their camp underground in a maze of burrows and tunnels."
"And how do you know that?" Hailwatcher's question took Nightpaw aback. The truth-teller's eyes narrowed into blue slits as he waited for Nightpaw's answer.
"Your stories," the apprentice replied. "When my littermates and I were three moons old you started off by telling us about the rebels and their homes." Nightpaw felt the tension in his shoulders build as he gazed up at his mentor, wondering what he might have said to warrant Hailwatcher's reaction.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the massive tom gave him a nod, whiskers twitching happily.
"I don't mean to frighten you, Nightpaw," Hailwatcher began, landing on the ground beside his apprentice. "That was more of a test, to see how attentive you were as a kit to the history of DarkClan. I see you know the basics of our history well."
The tom padded past Nightpaw, heading further in to the moors. Confused, the apprentice got up to follow.
Their trek through the grasses brought them to a dusty clearing. Hailwatcher sat himself in the centre, gesturing for Nightpaw to sit before him. With another wave of his spotted tail, he dismissed the silent she-cat and tom.
When they were alone, Hailwatcher continued. "The job of a truth-teller requires attentiveness. While our main task is to keep the history of DarkClan, we are also the enforcers of DarkClan's code. Treason is unacceptable and we, as the most watchful of the Clan, are expected to see this in our Clanmates."
Nightpaw's eyes shone with admiration as he remembered the words he'd spoken to Hailwatcher earlier: "Let my mouth be an outlet for the truths of DarkClan, my eyes a careful witness to treason, and my claws a testament to the consequences of betrayal." He felt honoured to hold such an important role in his Clan.
"Do you know who they are?" Hailwatcher asked next, waving his tail in the general direction of the cats who had accompanied them there.
"I think the she-cat's name is Pebblefur," Nightpaw replied. "The tom... I've seen him before, but I can't remember his name."
The truth-teller purred. "Yes, they are Pebblefur and Newtfang. But do you know why they are here?"
Nightpaw hesitated, thinking back to Hailwatcher's nursery visits. Back when he was three moons old, he would always wonder why the truth-teller was followed around by two different cats every day. They never spoke, only watched the truth-teller's every move, as if waiting for him to strike.
"No," the apprentice replied honestly. Something like disappointment flashed across Hailwatcher's face.
Not wanting to disappoint his new mentor, Nightpaw scrambled for a different answer. "I mean, they're always with you. But they can't be your apprentices... Maybe they're protecting you?"
This time, Nightpaw was rewarded with a purr, the beginnings of pride glinting in Hailwatcher's blue eyes.
"Correct. They are my guardians, the guardians of truth. There are eight in the Clan, always kept in pairs and relieved of their shift every two sunhighs. When not guarding me, they are like regular warriors."
"But why would you need protection?" Nightpaw asked before he could stop himself. "I mean, you're the most important member of the Clan."
Hailwatcher regarded him for a moment with troubled eyes. "Do you remember what happened to Thornwillow?"
Nightpaw struggled to remember, but his knowledge of DarkClan's second truth-teller did not yield any answers. Sadly, he shook his head.
"Thornwillow was attacked in the middle of the night by supporters of the Old Life," the truth-teller explained. "They believed him to be the source of DarkClan's evil after Heatherstar died and Bearstar replaced her. The supporters would have killed Thornwillow had it not been for - "
"Ravenfrost!" Nightpaw cried, suddenly remembering the stories of the first guardian. "He killed all of the traitors in four swipes of his giant claws and showed no hint of regret."
"Correct again," Hailwatcher said, purring deeply. He got to his paws, shaking the dust out of his long fur. Nightpaw moved to follow but was stopped with a flick of his mentor's ear.
"Do you know why you were chosen to be my apprentice?" the giant tom asked.
"Because of my marks," Nightpaw replied in a heartbeat, blinking his white-rimmed eyes.
The apprentice felt a shiver run through him as the truth-teller's powerful tail wrapped around his small body, bringing the little tom closer. Hailwatcher leaned close to Nightpaw's ear, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Let me tell you a secret only Dawnstar and I know," he said. "The tradition of marked truth-tellers goes back to the ways of the Old Life, which only we know. Back then, marked kits were considered weak, rejected by StarClan's ranks. They were considered less worthy than their pure counterparts because the ancestors had marred their appearance."
Nightpaw felt his heart sink as Hailwatcher spoke. He thought about his littermates - Cinderpaw, with her pristine grey coat, and Flamepaw, with his broad shoulders and fiery pelt.
"But we are not ruled by StarClan's rulings," the truth-teller continued. "They have no power over us when we deny their ways. And that, Nightpaw, is why you were chosen. In the Old Life, your marks would have meant you are lesser; in this life, you are great."
I am great, Nightpaw thought, golden eyes shining in the light of the quickly setting sun.
"That's all for today, I believe," Hailwatcher said, pulling back from Nightpaw. "I'm sure this has been quite an eventful day for both of us and we should both rest before your apprenticeship truly begins."
Disappointment flickered through the black tom but he nodded all the same, knowing he shouldn't defy his superior. He has seen enough of that as a kit to know the consequences. Mutely, he followed Hailwatcher as the tom set off in the direction of the DarkClan camp. Seemingly out of nowhere, they were again joined by the guardians of truth.
It was only when they were nearing camp and the sky had turned dark that Hailwatcher turned to Nightpaw once more. "You did well today. I can see you will be a very good listener and an avid pursuer of knowledge."
Even through the sleepy haze in his brain, Nightpaw knew this praise was not easily won.
"But I must warn you that this role is very solitary. It would be best if you did not mention the details of your training to anyone."
"Not even my littermates?" Nightpaw asked.
"No, not even them. You are a truth-teller now and you must put all personal attachments aside. You serve the Clan. Watch, listen, remember."
"Watch, listen, remember," the apprentice repeated, swallowing back the hurt that suddenly rose within him.
/
The sound of soft breathing filled the apprentice den when Nightpaw entered it. Carefully, he stepped over the sleeping forms of the older apprentices and slid into a corner of the bramble structure, making himself comfortable beside the ginger fur of his littermate.
"Nightpaw!" The black tom pricked a curious ear at the sound of Cinderpaw's voice. She lay curled up on the other side of Flamepaw. In a hushed voice, she said, "How was your first day of training?"
The truth-teller's apprentice hesitated, remembering Hailwatcher's warning. Yet, his mentor had not forbidden him from speaking more generally about his day.
"Hailwatcher showed me the moors," Nightpaw replied. "We talked about the history of DarkClan." Cinderpaw opened her mouth, as if to ask further questions, but was cut off by Flamepaw.
"Rowanstorm took me to the Tall Oak in the forest and showed me a couple of battle moves," he mewed sleepily. "Look, I even have a scratch to prove it!" Uncurling himself, the ginger tom showed off a small nick in his shoulder.
"It almost looks like the scar all the warriors have on their shoulder," Cinderpaw whispered, impressed. "I didn't do anything nearly as exciting as that. Marshclaw took me hunting in the forest."
Flamepaw snorted. "More exciting than sitting around and talking about DarkClan." He flicked his tail at Nightpaw.
The black tom flinched slightly, hurt by Flamepaw's comment. "Just because you don't have the attention span to sit and listen doesn't mean I don't," he hissed. "There's a reason I was picked to be the truth-teller's apprentice."
The larger apprentice cocked his head to the side. "I'm not marked. You are. Doesn't make you that special."
Nightpaw began to protest, but Flamepaw wasn't listening. The tom rose from his nest, stretching, before flopping back down and curling himself into a ball. "I'm going to sleep now. Long day of training tomorrow." Within seconds, Flamepaw was asleep.
"Don't be mad," Cinderpaw mewed, a soft look in her hazel eyes. "You know what he's like."
The black tom didn't reply, only nodding his head before slipping out into the night air. His paws ached from his trip to the moors and his eyelids were heavy with sleep, but he knew the dull throb in his heart would prevent him from sleeping just yet.
Instead, he tilted his head back, white-rimmed eyes staring up at the sky above where a single golden star had broken through the otherwise dark blanket of night. All alone, it shone down on the DarkClan camp.
I wonder if stars get lonely, Nightpaw thought.
