Disclaimer is in the first chapter (prologue). Can't be bothered to put it on every single chapter, mainly because it slips my mind so easily. ...Alright, fine. I don't own Warriors, the story's just a figment of my silly imagination, and if a name in this fanfic is also used in another work-be it fiction or fanfiction-it really is a coincidence.

A/N: This may be a poorer chapter. I realized that the story, really, is a very short one. Like, it could seriously be finished in under ten chapters. Yay for less reading (and writing-but you didn't hear that from me)! Thanks, again, to all readers and reviewers; you make my day.

Chapter 3 - Secret

Rarely did even GloryClan venture out of the comforting shade of the vast forests that stretched for many days' journeys. The last few trees, lonely vestiges on the outskirts of the sea of green, gave way to hardy shrubs and sandy gravel underpaw. In the distance, Wolfshadow could pick up sounds of a rhythmic sound of repeated crashes—was she near the sea? She had never been deployed to SeaClan before—in fact, she had been preparing to visit SeaClan personally with a small band of warriors, to demand the moon's tribute, that night when Sableclaw confronted her.

She had never allowed that night to bother her conscience—the night she led the devastating raid on BirchClan. They refused to pay for their lives with the life of one kit, and Galestar's orders were final: erase them.

BirchClan never saw her warriors coming, slipping in like ghosts, blending easily into the shadows. These warriors were not GloryClan by blood—the kits that they kidnapped as part tributes were raised and trained to live and die for GloryClan. Most other commanding officers of Galestar's army were less inclined to trust those who were not born of GloryClan parents—after all, weren't cats only as good as their blood? What could be born from weak warriors, besides weak kits?

She remembered standing atop the huge birch tree, overlooking their camp, her presence not yet detected by those miserable excuses for warriors. They had, of course, expected a raid—no one defied GloryClan for long, and none lived to tell the tale at all. They were hunched in the wet darkness, and Wolfshadow could pick out the leader: a large black tom, standing stalwart in front of his warriors as they peered apprehensively at the camp entrance, expecting the cats to come crashing through. Fools. She paced among those thick branches, feeding upon the fear that permeated the entire atmosphere of the camp, relishing the knowledge that she could break that precarious silence of the camp with a simple act of leaping down, or calling out.

And so she did. Waiting for someone, Ebonystar?

Back in reality, Wolfshadow shook her head, clearing those images. The past did not frighten her, but they need not burden her now—not yet. Not when she was trespassing into enemy territory, knowing somehow that this Clan was the Clan that those StarClan cats had wanted her to find. Was Foxwind here? He must be. As to why he would be hiding here, she did not know. Hiding from Galestar? She did not want to consider it, yet inevitably the question came: Hiding from me?

A loud yowl, an unceremonious stumble and dislodging of sand and gravel. Wolfshadow whirled to the noise, narrowing her eyes as she tried to locate its source. It was a cat, that was for sure—and she ought not be surprised; this was a Clan's hunting grounds. Her instincts screamed at her to hide, to scramble underneath the nearest bush and wait for an opportunity to strike at the strangers whilst their backs were turned—but she stood her ground, letting the world know that she was a trespasser. Silence greeted her defense. "I know you're there," she meowed, trying to tone down the natural hostility in her mew. "I'm not here to steal prey or trespass—I want to speak to you."

"S-she wants to—"

A mild squeak, then a furious snarl of rebuke. "Silence, fool!"

She was slightly amused—was this how pathetic other Clans were? Too clumsy to even sneak up on an intruder properly? Even so, this sort of inadequacy was unheard of in the forest Clans. No wonder Galestar never took much interest in SeaClan kits—these seaside "warriors" could not possibly compare to the naturally superior forest cats. Her beliefs were further reinforced when the SeaClan cats stepped out of a nearby bush. They did have the standard muscular physique of Clan cats—perhaps due to their practice of swimming and hunting in the ocean—but they seemed as awkward as fish on land; their clumsy pawsteps could be heard for distances all around, and Wolfshadow could not remember encountering any of their scent markers as she ventured further into their territory.

The leader of their patrol, a light gray tabby tom, began: "We don't need to worry about that. We, we know who you are. You're Wolfshadow. Deputy of Galestar."

She had not expected such a response. "How?" she demanded, her claws sliding out involuntarily.

"The ginger-furred warrior told us. He came from the western lands, a GloryClan warrior—or rather, he used to be." He lowered his voice, then continued: "Foxwind."

Wolfshadow felt herself swaying—but she forced herself to look at the patrol leader's eyes, not betraying the feelings that were starting to rise up—those old memories. "He's alive?"

The tom hesitated, and Wolfshadow wanted to rip into his fur to choke the answer out of him—but no, there were too many questions. "Y-yes, of course. He told us—he told our leader, and medicine cat, that you would come, to save us."

She had heard enough. "Save you? Didn't Foxwind tell your dear Clan already? I'm a killer." She bared her teeth, and the SeaClan cats took hasty steps backwards. "What has he told you, that old fox? Why did he come here?"

"Only our medicine cat knows, Wolfshadow." The patrol leader's legs were now slightly trembling—but he mustered the courage to turn his back to her, waving with his tail to signal to her to follow. "Please, we'll guide you to our camp. You'll find your friend there." With that he bounded away, with his other two warriors trailing after. Only an apprentice remained at Wolfshadow's side—was he too stupid to recognize fear, or too young to know what fear was?

The young cat, probably newly apprenticed, leaned up on the tips of his paws to whisper into her ear: "I know a secret about you. Foxwind told us stories all about GloryClan."

"Then you know what I've done," Wolfshadow hissed, shoving the small cat aside. He stumbled backwards with a squeak, but still there was no fear in those round blue eyes. Is that the way of it, Foxwind? she raged bitterly. Telling these cats tales to create me into more of a monster than I already am? Very well, then. The apprentice scrabbled at the gravel, following the others to the camp, and Wolfshadow bounded after him, ignoring the anticipation of finding him. Even so, however, she could not bring herself to desecrate Foxwind's memory by accusing him of running away, or even worse, running away without telling her. Despair was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, and yet it consumed her as she followed the SeaClan patrol to their camp, where Foxwind would be. She had been waiting a season, in Galestar's prison, for him to return to her. It did not mean he would be waiting for her.