KALEIDOSCOPIC images paraded Sedgepaw's vision, creating a pattern of reds, oranges, and yellows. It was like the sunset had been shattered into dozens of pieces, which rained down before Sedgepaw's eyes with the vividity of an inferno. A caterwaul ripped through the air, and suddenly her vision, which was a tourbillion of colors, cleared to reveal a campestral plain of dry grasses that swayed against a stiff, hot breeze. A large oak tree grew centerfold in the sandhills, and it cast a monstrous shadow over the grasses, for behind it was the simmering, scarlet form of the setting sun.

Peeling away from the tree's shadow were dozens of cats. They gazed at Sedgepaw with eyes that shone like tiny moons. However, unlike the grandiose oak, the cats did not produce shadows of their own. Among them, Sedgepaw recognized the slender frame and spiralling tabby markings of Vinestripe. He broke away from the line of cats gazing at her to approach her, and Sedgepaw felt her fur stand on end when she gazed up into the luminescent depths of his eyes. She felt like all the knowledge of the stars and beyond was cradled inside his alabaster gaze.

"The sun will set on us unless we rise."

His words started as a whisper, but then they were followed by a chorus from the cats behind him. They all told Sedgepaw the same thing. Again and again, the spectral cats chanted, while Sedgepaw could only gawk in her struggle to understand what was happening.

"What does this mean!?" she yowled. "Wait!"

When she spoke, the figures started to fade away. From either end, the cats faded out of sight like fog forced to dissipate. Only Vinestripe remained, and Sedgepaw lunged for him, hoping she could stop him from leaving her in confusion like the others. Instead, her paws pierced through him as if he were nothing but a cloud; he vanished with the sun, which set behind the horizon, leaving Sedgepaw in the dark.

Only his whisper remained, "Rise."

Sedgepaw gazed around the quiet territory in peril, left to ponder the gravity of this message. Her panicked gasps were drowned out by the distant sound of arguing. It rattled at her feet, coming from the ground up, splitting the earth in a fissure of blackness. Sedgepaw helplessly fell into it, and she woke in her mossy nest.

"Hm?" She gazed around in confusion as her eyes struggled to focus. Sedgepaw felt trapped in a translucent, gelatinous bubble, which prevented her from interacting with the world around her by distorting her sight, making everything a coagulated blur.

Heronpaw's stony voice resounded first. "It was just a velleity to her." She heard the rustle of him fumbling through herbs, and a grunt of frustration as the piles hit the ground. "Why do you continue to treat her as if she has a say in our work?" The iciness of his tone bordered on breaking into boiling resentment.

"She vied for apprenticeship on more than just a whim, Heronpaw," Redleaf explained calmly. "But StarClan had other plans… Her decision does not make her knowledge useless to me."

"It was not a decision. It was a mistake," Heronpaw hissed bitingly. "I am willing to bet my tail that if she did not have them, she would still be here." It was quiet, and Sedgepaw felt a pit of despair blossom inside her belly, curling its roots into her intestines, making her feel sick. They were talking about Fernstream. Memories of the day before assaulted her, and Sedgepaw felt existential dread return to take its place in her wary heart.

And yet, Sedgepaw could not figure out why Redleaf seemed to be defending her mother. Before, it seemed Redleaf was hellbent on dooming her mother to eternal damnation. Now, it seemed that he vouched for her character.

"You would probably prefer that… huh? You'd rather have her here."

"Hush, Heronpaw." Redleaf's voice rose an octave, and Sedgepaw realized Heronpaw must have struck a nerve. "You know nothing about that which you speak. Why must you let her disquiet you?"

"Because I know if she were your apprentice, she would be a medicine cat by now!" Heronpaw snapped. "Instead, you have me, and you assign me to grunt work like a damned six-moon-old greenhorn. I have been by your side since she surrendered her position, but I am still seen as nothing but an apprentice."

"Heronpaw, you'll wake Sedgepaw if you keep this up," Redleaf warned in a strained whisper. "Enough."

Sedgepaw's sight finally focused, and she wished it hadn't. The heartbreaking disappointment on Heronpaw's face was something she would not want to remember. His blue eyes were downcast, and his voice was barely above a whisper. "You don't even deny it."

"Heronpaw…"

"No!" Heronpaw snapped again, his eyes gleaming with pain. "I don't want to hear your sympathy. If anything, you should be bestowing it on that apprentice." Sedgepaw stiffened when Heronpaw's tail flicked in her direction.

Sedgepaw squeezed her eyes shut when Heronpaw turned to leave, not wanting them to know she was eavesdropping again. She felt her chest tighten with the overload of information she was cursed with in this forsaken den of marigold. What was worse, she had no power to escape it. These walls were her prison until she recovered. Sedgepaw feared she would go mad before then. When she opened her eyes again, she realized her expression must have mirrored Redleaf's: hopelessness.

Redleaf was silent for a long time, staring out the mouth of his den. Sedgepaw could not help but wonder what he was thinking. The life of a medicine cat was no easy one. Not only did they have to abandon all earthly ties, they had the pressure of speaking for StarClan, and choosing the next leader for MarshClan as well as their own successor. Without them, MarshClan was lost. Sedgepaw did not envy him. However, she failed to respect him; after all, the manner in which he condemned her own mother was inexcusable. Even if the medicine cat saved her life, he simultaneously doomed her mother's.

Rising to her paws, Sedgepaw decided it was time to make her consciousness clear. She cleared her throat hesitantly, prompting Redleaf to look her way. She refrained from shivering under his golden gaze. No longer could she look to him as a holy healer; he was something more. The prophecy he murmured in the den the day before rattled her to the bone. She only managed a tiny smile his way.

"Good morning," he rumbled, returning her smile warmly. Still, Sedgepaw could only recall his glower from before. She struggled to swallow as he approached. "Did you sleep well?"

"Y-yeah." She chuckled nervously. "Like the dead." Ew, bad pun… She shivered at the thought.

"Are you okay?" Redleaf asked, tilting his head with concern.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Sedgepaw tried to remain calm as the stocky ginger tomcat came closer. His gaze was locked on hers and he mumbled to himself before backing away.

"Your pupils appear normal," he observed. "How are your ribs feeling?"

"Only a little sore. Nowhere near as bad as before."

For the most part, that was true. Sedgepaw only ached when making abrupt movements, but she refused to tell Redleaf that. The sooner she got out of his den, the better. As an extension of StarClan, Redleaf could very well want her dead just as much as They did. They want me dead… The realization made Sedgepaw's heart shatter into a million pieces, leaving a gaping hole in her chest. What was worse, she didn't even do anything to incite Their condemnation. She merely inherited her pending demise.

Redleaf's mutter brought her back to reality, "Very well. Since your concussion seems to have waned, I will not restrict you to bedrest." Sedgepaw smiled, ears perked. "However," he continued. "I cannot let you return to training just yet. Light duty is best, for now, and you are not to leave camp without an escort. You're not strong enough to fight off any potential danger."

It was good enough for Sedgepaw. So long as she was free from Redleaf's den, she was happy. Getting to her paws, Sedgepaw practically ran for the exit to camp, but Redleaf stood before her with an imposing expression.

"Easy," he grumbled. "I did not formally dismiss you yet."

Sedgepaw stared into his eyes, her heart beginning to pound. What other secrets were harbored in the golden depths of his glare? Had he already forseen her death? Time seemed to pass at a snail's pace as they were deadlocked in an unbreaking stare. Redleaf's smile turned the tense atmosphere rosy as he chuckled.

"You need to have your medicine first!" he chirped.

Sedgepaw sighed with relief. "Oh, right, of course."

As he turned to his herb store, she felt relief overcome her. She wanted to see her family, particularly her mother. If they were all doomed to die, they had to cherish what time was left. The sharp scent of mint and lavender returned, and Sedgepaw's nose wrinkled as Redleaf delivered her potion on a broad mangrove leaf. Smiling sheepishly, she lapped up the mixture and swallowed it whole, coughing. Just get me out of here.

Redleaf nodded, satisfied. "I'll be seeing you this evening then."

Sedgepaw nodded and hurried out to camp. She felt like she could breathe easy now that she was free from the overpowering stench of marigold. As she gazed around at the faces of her Clanmates, she was greeted by warm smiles and encouraging head-nods. It seemed they all had anticipated her return to Clan life. And yet, she could not relish their silent welcomes, for within she knew if they knew about the prophecy surrounding her birth, they would want her dead.

Give rise to revolution. What could it mean? Sedgepaw sat, soaking in the sunlight, seeking solace in its warmth. It was mid-morning; most of the Clan was out in the territory, hunting, patrolling, training, those that stayed behind would be saddled with duty during the evening or night shifts. She gazed at her Clanmates as they went about their lives. Egretsong was laughing with her littermates, Gingerstep, Zinniablossom, and Sandthroat. Meanwhile, Toadpaw was tending to the elders' bedding as they lay in the sunlight, swapping stories of their youth while Pebblepaw and Lilypaw groomed their pelts for ticks. Claytooth was entering the nursery with a mouse, likely feeding his mate, Hollyfoot, while his son, Foxkit, danced around his legs.

Could Sedgepaw really be destined to ruin this? The meaning of revolution hung heavy in her heart. She did not feel the spark of passion for change, but when she saw Minnowtail resting alone in the shade of the Fallen Cypress, she felt her chest tighten. Before, he would be sharing tongues with Vinestripe at this time. Vinestripe… Sedgepaw remembered the vision she had of him in the forest, bloodied and beaten, and her resolve began to tremble like a leaf. She felt like she was being pulled in several different directions, and no matter how she stood, she would never not feel the pain of being yanked the other way. She wanted to just give up and break. Seeing her mother leave the medicine den with such sorrow the night before… with her being the cause of it. Maybe Redleaf was right? Maybe she should never have been born?

"Sedgepaw!" From across the clearing, near the lake that flanked camp, Mudpaw burst from the reeds. "You're free!" His bright green eyes glowed as he ran to her.

Seeing his sheer joy, Sedgepaw smiled. How could she think of oblivion when it meant her own siblings would be doomed too? "Of course I'm free," she asserted. "You think a little fall is going to keep me down?"

Mudpaw laughed. "Little?" Mudpaw shook his head. "The whole Clan has been talking about you! No one's been able to climb to the top of the Great Cypress and live since… like… ever!"

"Really?" Sedgepaw's ears perked with interest.

"Yeah" Mudpaw beamed. "That and how mousebrained it was of you to do it."

Sedgepaw's face soured as Mudpaw laughed. She shrugged him off as he tried to affectionately rub his head against her shoulder. "Well, I lived, so I couldn't be that mousebrained."

"Yeah, but you may not be so lucky next time." Mudpaw's tone grew more serious.

Sedgepaw gazed at him quizzically. He never sounded this way. The darkness in her brother's eyes betrayed his worry, and Sedgepaw felt her heart break once more as she realized how cruel their damnation was. How could StarClan want someone like Mudpaw, so full of spirit and compassion, dead?

"You had us worried," Mudpaw went on, growing fidgety under Sedgepaw's curious stare. "For a moment there, I thought you might be… Well…"

Sedgepaw didn't let him finish. She nuzzled her brother's neck as a purr erupted loudly from her throat. "I get it, I get it." She leaned back away from him and smiled fondly. "I'm sorry."

Their tender moment was short-lived, for the rotten stench of fear spilled from the marsh, rolling into camp like a dense fog that threatened to strangle the Clan cats of their peaceful morning routines. Sedgepaw narrowed her eyes as the wall of sawgrass began to rustle and a patrol of cats broke from the shadows, fur bristling and eyes wide.

Leading the flustered clutch of cats was Grayjaw; his permanent scowl appeared fiercer than ever and his yellow eyes glowed with an unsettling thirst for blood. Not far behind, Kiteclaw materialized. The scent of blood tainted the air, and Sedgepaw noticed the gray tabby was speckled with blood across the white fur on her face and shoulders. It did not belong to her. Loud crashing noises sounded from the brush and a bloodcurdling caterwaul broke the stunned silence within the Clan. Grunts and growls thundered from the shadows where Otternose and Fogspots emerged, struggling to drag an elderly tortoiseshell she-cat from the sawgrass. Her pelt was matted with clumps of peat bog and she reeked of blood and starvation.

Sedgepaw's fur stood on end as she she-cat wildly flailed her limbs, claws unsheathed, at her Clanmates as they mercilessly yanked her to the center of the clearing by her hackles. She could see the gleam of terror in the captured cat's eyes, and her voice was becoming hoarse from wailing. Soon, all of MarshClan surrounded the irate cat; the apprentices that were attending to the elders now stood beside them as they huddled close around the intruder. Claytooth remained by the nursery, fur standing on end, and he acted as a big, ruddy shield as the eyes of kits and queens gleamed with fear and curiosity behind him in the shadows of the cypress roots. Sedgepaw ended up being wedged between Gingerstep and Zinniablossom; they reeked of fear and rage.

"Who is that?" Gingerstep fretted. "Why would she be brought here?"

"She was brought here to die, of course!" Zinniablossom snapped over Sedgepaw's head at her sister. "She's a filthy Fallen, no doubt."

To die? Sedgepaw gazed at the pitiful pile of fur before her. The she-cat was reduced to a wheezing, trembling mess by the time Otternose and Fogspots released her. Grayjaw placed a possessive paw on top of the captive's skinny shoulder like a hunter, proud of his kill. Sedgepaw felt a familiar, sickly chill in her blood. She remembered Vinestripe looking similarly helpless under the glares of her Clanmates only a few days ago.

It did not take long for Whitestar to take notice of the chaos. She pushed her way out of the curtain of moss that hid the hollowed belly of the Fallen Cypress. Amber eyes burning like the sun above, she regarded the patrol with unbridled fury.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"We found this traitor sniffing about along our side of the river's border," Kiteclaw reported dutifully, voice clipped. "Grayjaw challenged her, but she tried to flee."

"I ordered my patrol to pursue her," Grayjaw continued, his deep voice a gravelly rasp. "We wanted answers. I thought all Fallen found on our territory should be questioned."

Whitestar slowly drew her eyes away from her warriors to the intruder stuck beneath Grayjaw's massive paw. The she-cat refused to return Whitestar's stare, instead, Sedgepaw's heart began to race when she realized the mysterious she-cat was staring directly at her, or through her, more like it. The she-cat's amber eyes appeared as terror slowly faded from their depths. She's Fallen? Sedgepaw could not restraint her sympathy for the skinny, elderly she-cat; even beneath the clods of mud, she could see the bones protruding from her dull black and ginger fur.

"Look at me, Fallen," Whitestar snapped.

The Fallen she-cat silently refused. Sedgepaw's ears perked with surprise. This old cat was either very brave or very dumb.

A bellowing growl erupted from the back of Grayjaw's throat, and he brought his paw to the top of the she-cat's head, forcing her to look at Whitestar by pulling her forehead back by his claws. The she-cat hissed in protest, her skin pulled so taut by Grayjaw's grip that the white of her eyes were exposed.

A small, smug smile appeared on Whitestar's pink lips as the she-cat was rendered helpless before her. Sedgepaw could smell her own fear now, but it was for her own leader, not the mysterious cat before them. The old, underfed intruder was hardly a threat. She looked ready to croak within the next few moons. As she looked around, most of her Clanmates looked disgusted by and terrified of the mysterious she-cat. Not one seemed to share her sentiment.

"Now," Whitestar continued, sounding calmer now that Grayjaw had a better hold on the she-cat. "Tell me your name."

"Scorchface," she rasped.

As soon as her name was spoken, disturb mutterings erupted from the surrounding cats. Sedgepaw's ears perked with interest. Scorchface? The Scorchface? It was hard to imagine such a bloodthirsty killer would be reduced to the bag of bones before her. Sedgepaw frowned in disgust as the tortoiseshell began to cough out a bout of chuckles.

Scorchface curled her lip at Whitestar, revealing blackened fangs. "So you're Pikestar's successor?" Spittle rained from the elderly she-cat lips as she managed a cackle. "I always wondered who would be diabolical enough to succeed him."

"Keep your mouth shut, filth!" Grayjaw snapped, stepping on her head harder. "Only give the answers Whitestar wants, nothing more."

The only stories Sedgepaw knew of Pikestar were ones of glory. He was one of the best fishers in MarshClan, and he was big enough to fight off a fox with his bare claws. Why would Scorchface call him diabolical? Or, more importantly, what made Whitestar more diabolical than him?

Whitestar's eyes narrowed before flickering to the elders that were gathered around Scorchface. "Certaintly you know of this Fallen, Vervainclaw?" Whitestar asked the elders.

Of the elders, Vervainclaw stepped forward; his pale gray fur seemed to grow paler with each passing day as he aged, and his pale blue eyes were clouded like a murky dewdrop as cataracts fought to consume his vision. "I do," Vervainclaw confirmed solemnly. "We grew up together."

Whitestar nodded, smiling. "Then surely you can disclose to the Clan of Scorchface's crimes."

Nodding, Vervainclaw stared blankly at Scorchface, his ghostly voice droning out each syllable in a pained whisper. "Many of you may have heard of Scorchface," he began. "But hearing of her is not that same as knowing or seeing what she had done… It was a humid, dark night during the rainy season. The water was almost up to our shoulders as I led my night patrol through the swamp back to camp. It was an oddly quiet night… not a single cricket could be heard." His eyes widened, as if he was elsewhere, seeing something frightful, terrible. "Our wading slowed as we began to notice an odor most foul. I knew something was amiss when I heard buzzing, lots of buzzing."

Vervainclaw licked his lips as he spoke, his voice hindering as he tried to speak again. Sedgepaw noticed a slight tremble in his whiskers. The fear was raw in his eyes. "The buzzing was strange because it was deep and loud… not like a mosquito, but like a fly. Then I saw them. Flies, flies everywhere, in the dead of night! It was unheard of. I was the first to see what they were flying towards… I-I saw Scorchface…" A sob broke from his throat, making his voice crack. "She was dragging a smaller cat away from camp, but the water and mud was so thick… so thick… she could not drag the body fast enough. That's when I realized what the smell was coming from. The body being drug, it was cut from the jugular down, down, down to the belly, gutted. Her intestines were rising up from the water, buoyant, floating, weighing the body down as Scorchface tried to escape." His voice cracked again as he struggled to continue. "I was too stunned to speak, but I stepped closer, and the moon just so happened to break from the clouds to reveal Emberstorm's face, fr-frozen in shock."

Gingerstep left Sedgepaw's side, fleeing to the warriors den, and she could see the warrior looked ill. Many of the faces of the gathered cats looked grim or disgusted. Sedgepaw herself could hardly stand to listen any longer. Thankfully, Vervainclaw was too shaken to continue. He began sobbing softly as he relived the hellish night. She frowned with sympathy as Owleyes began to console him, pressing her tawny tabby fur against his and rasping her tongue across his head.

Larkwing raised his chin and stepped forward, his brown and white fur bristling and his green eyes looking spooked. "With all due respect, Whitestar, Vervainclaw will no longer be speaking of this."

Whitestar's eyes narrowed, but she relented with a nod. "You all know what happened after Vervainclaw found Scorchface with Emberstorm's body." The Clan was silent, waiting with baited breath before she continued, "Pikestar discovered she killed her daughter out of jealousy; Scorchface wanted to become leader of MarshClan, but when StarClan refused to pick her, she took her rage out on her own daughter."

"That's quite the colorful story, Whitestar," Scorchface rasped. "Do you always tell such tall tales?"

Whitestar snorted. "I only speak the truth, Fallen, and see to it my Clan bears witness."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" Scorchface sneered, lip curled. "Does that help you sleep any better? Whose truth do you speak? You know nothing of the truth, that's why you wish to demonize all those that dare to scrutinize."

"Enough!" Whitestar snapped.

"Where's Vinestripe?" Scorchface demanded. "Did he step on your tail one too many times?"

"Another word, and I'll slit your throat myself," Grayjaw warned.

"What about Leechpelt? Nettlefrost? Jayflight?" Scorchface continued. Then, she started to laugh, almost maniacally, even as Grayjaw dug his claws deeper into her head with a warning hiss. "Those that don't believe in your truth, Whitestar, where do they go? Huh?"

Whitestar was silent, but her tail was lashing. The glare in her eyes burned like fire. "I'll not have you question my integrity in my camp," she snarled. "You are Fallen, Scorchface. You have no say here. Your words mean nothing." Turning to the rest of MarshClan, Whitestar's eyes grazed across the masses, and Sedgepaw froze under them. "MarshClan, we all know the punishment for a Fallen found trespassing on our land."

Sedgepaw's thoughts were drowned out by the resonate mews from her Clanmates; they all exchanged nods and murmurs of agreement, while she felt left out from the decision-making. Though she knew the undebated consequence of trespassing on MarshClan land, Sedgepaw felt uneasy when she finally was able to see the law in action. In her teachings, the Fourth Code of the Warrior was simple: to show no mercy to any and all intruders. It was so short and sweet, Sedgepaw never contemplated what it meant until now.

"At moonhigh, we will execute Scorchface for her crimes, under the eyes of our ancestors, so they may witness and relish in our devotion to Them and the code." Whitestar nodded to Grayjaw. "You and your patrol will be rewarded for your efforts with double servings of fresh-kill."

Sedgepaw stiffened when Whitestar's gaze returned to the rest of the Clan. When Whitestar nodded to Zinniablossom, Sedgepaw slowly shifted away from the warrior, not wanting to attract too much attention from their vindictive leader. Thankfully, she felt Mudpaw shuffle up close from behind her, and his scent comforted her in the wake of an impending execution.

"Zinniablossom," Whitestar mewed. "You will stand guard over Scorchface with Claytooth for now. Just before sunset, you will turn over your position with Egretsong and Minnowtail."

"Understood," Zinniablossom mewed, nodding obediently. She left Sedgepaw's side to join Kiteclaw and Grayjaw as they dragged the elder across the clearing towards the reeds that bordered the lake. As they marched over, Zinniablossom flicked her tail for Claytooth to follow, and the warrior obliged, joining the cats as they dropped the prisoner under the shadows of the cattails.

Slowly, the gathered MarshClan cats returned to their mid-morning routine, albeit more tensely. Sedgepaw still felt too stunned to move, and it was not until Whitestar's shadow was cast over her that she realized her leader was standing before her. Sedgepaw felt her tongue swell in her throat as Whitestar fixed her with a small smile. Up close, Sedgepaw could see the smallest ripples in her leader's stark white pelt, where tiny scars prevented the fur from growing back; they were littered across her fur, and Sedgepaw could not help but wonder about the severity of the scars she inflicted on others.

"How are you healing?" Whitestar asked calmly.

"Uh-uhm, well, I'm healing well, Whitestar," Sedgepaw affirmed. Her paws itched with unease. She glanced behind her to see Mudpaw skipping over to the nursery, away from her. You mouseheart… She hesitantly returned her gaze to Whitestar, smiling nervously.

"Good to hear." The leader sat before her, grooming her paw nonchalantly. "I trust Redleaf is taking good care of you?"

Sedgepaw wondered how much Whitestar knew. Does she know about the prophecy? Her tail began to tremble. As MarshClan's leader, Whitestar was responsible for ensuring good order and discipline. If Whitestar knew she and her siblings were prophesied to incite revolution, she would surely want them dead too.

"Sedgepaw?" Whitestar prompted, quirking a brow.

"Ah, uhm, Redleaf is being very good to me!" she responded, flustered. "He said I should be fully healed very soon."

Whitestar smiled again. It almost seemed disingenuous to Sedgepaw; it was like a ghost of a smile, something that threatened to fade with time. "That's good to hear. Batface speaks highly of you, and MarshClan is astounded by your feat of climbing the Great Cypress." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I will be watching your training with great interest. Your test is coming soon, correct?"

Sedgepaw nodded slowly, rendered helpless by the closeness of her leader.

"Fantastic. I am anticipating it as much as you." Her smile grew wider. A cheshire grin. "I am expecting good things from you, Sedgepaw."

As Whitestar stalked away passed Sedgepaw, she felt every muscle in her body relax. With a loud sigh, she gazed around camp. Egretsong and Sandthroat were consoling a frazzled Gingerstep. The elders, Larkwing and Owleyes, were likely still soothing Vervainclaw in their den of dense bulrush and soft rush, which was tied together naturally by dense vines of ivy and jasmine. Standing outside was Cypressfang and Russetnose, exchanging heated murmurs, likely regarding the death penalty looming over Scorchface, while Pebblepaw, Toadpaw, and Lilypaw watched with wide eyes. By the nursery, Mudpaw was the only one still smiling, for he was entertaining Foxkit with a ball of moss.

In a heartbeat, the peaceful sight was greeted by upon exiting the den was changed. Sedgepaw could only sit in the heart of camp and wonder. Was their way of life really so fragile? She felt the pit of dread in her once more. She had to come to terms with three certainties: one, Scorchface would die tonight, two, her final test as an apprentice was on the horizon, and three, she and her siblings were most likely destined to destroy MarshClan.