A/N: Late. Whups.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Darkpaw was informed that she could attend the Gathering that moon, she was more worried than excited. Her first concern was that CuestaClan wouldn't show—that they'd wait for half the mesa's warriors to head off, and then use that as their chance ambush the camp while they were away. The concern was still a pressing thought on her mind when the night of the Gathering arrived, but it was only then that she realized that this would also be the first gathering since Mottlestar's death, the first gathering with their new leader, and the first time for the other Clans to learn about what Icestar had done.

Hopefully, he wouldn't spill too much information in his announcements. The Gathering may have been time of truce, but the war would still be on just as soon as this night was over. There was no sense in giving updates to your enemies. That was, if they were even there to hear. She continued to worry that CuestaClan might use this night as an opportunity for an ambush, as dishonorable as that might've been. These were desperate times.

The journey to Threestones was quiet, and Darkpaw's pelt was prickled with anxiety the whole way. To her surprise, however, the cats of CuestaClan were already there. Their leader, Willowstar, was perched on the outcropping of rocks, washing a paw; she put it down and watched the cats of the mesa as they padded down into the valley to join the Gathering. Redstar, who belonged to the cats of the arroyo, was also there, conversing with his deputy.

There were whispers as Icestar headed forward and leapt up to join the other leaders, and as Darkpaw looked to the cats crowded below, she realized they must be looking for Mottlestar. Once the cats of MesaClan had integrated into the crowd, though, the whispers decreased, and a low hum of civil discussion rose once more. This wasn't Darkpaw's first Gathering, so she didn't hang back with the warriors she knew, instead boldly walking among the strangers, having a look at all the unfamiliar pelts and scanning their numbers in the dark. Along the way, she spotted Goldpaw, a handsome arroyo cat she'd met before, conversing with some other apprentices. Darkpaw thought he was nice and good-looking, big sunny tabby that he was, but he couldn't compare with Foxpaw. That wily apprentice back home beat out every tom she'd ever seen (and she'd seen some good-looking toms), though not for strength or the breadth of his whiskers. Foxpaw was a rather odd-looking cat, yet that made him all the more a mouse for the eyes, with his narrow face, ringed tail, and black paws blended with a variegated coat of smoky gray, white, and black furs, speckled as fine as grains of sand, just like the gray fox of the south.

Darkpaw's train of thought was interrupted as Copperpaw passed by in front of her, and her ears felt warm with embarrassment. She quickly diverted her attention elsewhere, watching Copperpaw to see where he was going. He didn't join any conversations, though, just came to a hesitant stop and sat down, seeming to be staring at another apprentice from CuestaClan that she happened to know was called Dustpaw, looking as though he was thinking about approaching him. That was strange. Dustpaw was training to be a warrior, like her, and he was also an enemy of MesaClan while their clans were at war, so there was no reason for Copperpaw to interact with him at a gathering, except to be awkward. She saw Copperpaw look away a few times, but in the end his gaze always seemed to be drawn back to the same dust-brown tabby.

"You ain't thinking of starting a fight, are you?"

Copperpaw nearly jumped out of his fur at the sound of her voice.

"Sorry for startling you."

"No, I— Why would you ask that?"

"You were staring at one of the CuestaClan apprentices."

"No I wasn't!"

Darkpaw blinked at him, unimpressed with the transparent lie. "Deadeye's madness is starting to rub off on you," she remarked. Then she turned and flicked her tail, saying, "C'mon, let's go talk to some ArroyoClan cats before you do something weird."

Copperpaw followed her without further comment, and she came upon a pair of young apprentices from ArroyoClan, a ginger tom and a calico.

"What are you all talking about?" Darkpaw asked in a friendly voice.

"Warrior names!" replied the calico. "What do you think your warrior name will be?"

"I hope mine's Goldheart," Goldpaw interjected. "'Heart' shows a noble mind and a good disposition."

Darkpaw thought his opinion of 'heart' was kind of off, but she didn't say anything.

Copperpaw sat down across from him and suggested, "You look like a lean cat. What about something for speed? Like 'rush'?"

Goldpaw looked at him and made a face. "Rush?" he echoed.

The calico next to him sighed dreamily and said, "I hope I get 'Specklestream.' Only very honorable, graceful warriors get 'stream'—like the great Ravenstream."

"I'm not going to be a warrior, so technically I won't get a warrior name, but I think it'd be nice to get 'whisker'," mewed Copperpaw. "It shows attention to details. That's a good trait for a medicine cat."

"I hope I get named Darkclaw."

Everyone turned to look at her.

"It's a good name!" she insisted.

Goldpaw responded with a patronizing smile. "Yeah, but… don't you think that's a little…?"

"A little what?"

Specklepaw answered for him. "There's not a single warrior who's gone bad who hasn't had 'claw' in their name."

"Besides," Goldpaw agreed, "for a she-cat, it sounds too aggressive."

Darkpaw stood up and arched her back, all her fur rising on end. "I'll show you aggressive!"

"Darkpaw! The full moon! Remember, there's a truce!" Copperpaw warned her.

The dark apprentice hissed at them all, but she saw no choice but to heed his words. Still furious, she slowly turned to walk away.

She hated having to be the one to back down.

Angling her ears toward Threestones, she overheard someone finally note the obvious.

"I see that Mottlestar has not joined us tonight," observed Willowstar in a measured tone.

"You are correct. Shall I speak first?" Icestar looked to the others for an answer.

"On the contrary, I would prefer to do that myself," replied Redstar, the leader of ArroyoClan, and Icestar nodded his assent.

And so Redstar began to make his announcements, but Darkpaw was hardly listening, too anxious about what Icestar was going to say—and the next thing she knew, the time had come for the leader of MesaClan to speak.

Icestar did not hesitate to say it. "Mottlestar, our great leader, has passed away for the ninth and final time. With StarClan's blessing, I have taken on the mighty name of Icestar and now provide leadership for the cats of the mesa."

The cats beneath him were silent. Darkpaw had tensed even more at his words, though she could not place what it was about them that bothered her.

"May StarClan grant me the wisdom to fulfill the duties of my new rank with benevolence and grace. I am honored to have received this responsibility."

Darkpaw wished he would just get on with it.

"Many blessings have already come our way this past moon," he continued, which Darkpaw presumed was a tacit allusion to the last battle they'd won. "We are pleased to announce that the mesa has a new apprentice—"

"How can this be?" challenged Willowstar, interrupting his sentence. "MesaClan has not announced any new litters since many seasons ago." Although she didn't say it, it was clear from her tone that she meant to accuse Icestar of lying.

Despite the yowls of contention from below, Icestar chuckled as though at ease. Watching him, Darkpaw felt her pelt prickle with anger.

Icestar flicked his tail to call for silence and began his answer. "It is true, O Willowstar, that our newest apprentice was not born within our Clan." That revelation was met with gasps of surprise, but that was nothing compared to what came next when he explained, "She joined MesaClan just a few sunsets ago, after leaving her home with the Twolegs."

The crowd became its noisiest yet.

"A kittypet!" several cats exclaimed.

Willowstar nodded her understanding. To Darkpaw, it almost looked as though she were smiling. The leader of CuestaClan made no further objections, satisfied with what she had just learned of the enemy's new tactics.

The black-furred apprentice felt nothing but shame. All around Threestones, there where loud whispers and muffled peals of laughter. It was one thing to adopt a kit from Twolegplace. It was another thing to bring in a half-grown cat and expect them to be disciplined and loyal. Darkpaw couldn't think to imagine what their reaction would be if they knew that Fluffypaw was older than most of the other apprentices—old enough to be a warrior already, if she'd been born in the clans. As she looked to the warriors of her clan, she saw their eyes cast downward, their faces trying to be discrete about their embarrassment, but she could tell their pride in themselves and their leader was gone from their eyes.

"No matter her previous background, Fluffypaw—"

Snorts and whispers surged among the crowd as soon as he'd said the name. Darkpaw was cringing.

"Fluffypaw is certain to become an accomplished warrior as any of us."

"No doubt," Willowstar agreed.

Icestar's bright smile was oblivious.

Darkpaw didn't pay much attention to the announcements after that. Her Clan was a laughingstock, and now CuestaClan would know that they were truly desperate for warriors. The thought made her belly churn with dread. Willowstar would take this as a sign of weakness and use it to strategize a new attack, she was sure, and all because lousy Icestar was too proud to keep his mouth shut. In fact, this whole problem wouldn't be happening if it weren't for him. He was the one who'd started doling out invitations to mediocre kittypets in the first place. She wished he had never become leader of MesaClan, but unfortunately, there was no way to get rid of him now.