Lightning cracked across the sky. It struck right in front of Dustfeather, on a tall length of grass in front of the fresh-kill pile. She stepped back as fire overtook the blade, too large for her to stomp out. She yowled and rushed around, tucking her tail under herself and running to the base of the Lakerock. It was spreading fast, already burning the little prey inside the hole.

"Fire!" she screamed, "Fire!"

The cats looked around lazily, though quickly woke and started to get out. Mistblaze, Acornstripe and Featherpaw were helping the elders up and out. Smokewing was helping his very pregnant sister.

The flame nipped at Driftskip's white tail and Dustfeather rushed over to her father, cuddling into his downy chest fur just as she had as a kit.

"Where's your mother?" he mewed, a note of worry in his voice. "And Newtspots? And Redstrike, and Hawktail and Rosewind?"

Dustfeather shook her head as the fire spilled out onto more grass.

"Come on, let's go check the dens."

Newtspots popped out of the medicine den, dazed Larkpaw in his jaws. Lionstripe rushed forward and grabbed his son, rushing out.

Cats were pouring out of the clearing, some even using the apprentice log to get out. Dustfeather didn't catch Spidersting. After the three finished their rounds, half the camp was engulfed in flames and it was spreading fast. The thistles of the camp entrance were caught, and for a second, the log was the safest thing. Flames quickly climbed up the walls and caught the above bushes alight too.

Driftskip swallowed hard and, legs shaking, started to climb up the log. Newtspots and Dustfeather close behind. Newtspots' expression was unreadable, but Dustfeather was hoping no cat was left behind. Before they could escape, a cat jumped in front of them, a few tail lengths away. The log cracked and threatened to fall. Dustfeather locked in her claws and fell onto her elbows in terror. She looked through Driftskip's fuzzy legs and could barely make out a short, fluffy yellow spotted tabby.

"Thistlespot!" Newtspots mewed, voice loud over the crackling flames.

"Thistlespot," Driftskip breathed, a growl rising in his throat.

Thistlespot flattened her ears to her head and bared her teeth. "That's how you greet me after all these moons, Driftskip?" he hissed, not acknowledging Dustfeather or Newtspots.

"You expected anything else?" he spat back. Dustfeather had never heard him so angry.

Thistlespot didn't answer. "I believe we have some unfinished business, Driftskip!"

Driftskip pressed his ears to his head. "Thistlespot, please! Let my kits go, we can talk when their lives aren't-"

"No," she snarled. Dustfeather felt her heart leap at her aunt's sudden hostility. "You say that like you care for them."

"More than you do, clearly."

Thistlespot looked like she wanted to rip his throat out at that very moment, but she restrained.

"You aren't leaving here until you tell your kits what you've done."

Dustfeather felt her heart catch in her throat. Driftskip was the sweetest cat she knew, he could never do anything bad. Driftskip bristled. Newtspots already looked ready to kill, right beside his mentor.

"Kids," he mewed, "Before… you both were born, Spidersting asked me to be your father. You don't… share my blood. And I understand if you never see me as a father again, but you'll always be my kits."

"No!" yowled Thistlespot, "You hurt her!"

"I did not!" Driftskip yowled back.

"You did!" Thistlespot was seething in rage, "You forced her to have your kits! How else is Dustfeather the same color as you! She's my sister, she'd never lie to me!"

"You'd be surprised!"

Suddenly, behind her, Dustfeather heard the faint sound of stone against stone. She wobbily stood back up and strained to look over Driftskip. Spidersting! She was knocking down a thistle bush with a rock, flames slowly coming to the edge of the bushes on either side. Thistlespot looked behind her.

"Spidersting!" she cried, but before she could continue, Spidersting stood, half on the log and half on the bush.

"Let. My kits. Go," he snarled.

"But-!" mewed Thistlespot, shocked, "He harmed you!"

"He did not," Spidersting retorted.

"...what?"

"He isn't their father," she confirmed, "Not through blood. They're a loners. She's long gone from the territory."

"She? Loner?" Thistlespot spluttered, uncertain which she was more upset about. "You… you've betrayed our blood!" she screeched, gaining her barings.

"You mated with a kittypet," Spidersting mewed, "At least loners aren't pampered pets!"

That was the final straw. She turned around fully and stalked toward Spidersting. She looked calm as ever, and looked quietly up at Driftskip.

"Run," she mouthed, "I love you."

Thistlespot pounced on Spidersting, and Spidersting easily rolled her over and off the log. Thistlespot screeched as the two mollies fell. Dustfeather felt her mouth dry up as the two were lost in the flames. She didn't have time to grieve yet, as Driftskip yowled.

"Run!"

The bush Spidersting had stomped down was gathering flames close to either edge. Dustfeather didn't need to be told twice to bolt through it after Driftskip. She felt Newtspots' angry breath on her tailtip. She heard Driftskip mumbling to himself as thunder rolled and rain fell down too late.

"Oh, Starclan, oh Starclan…. Ohhh, would they go to Flameclan? Or the clearing? Or the island?" he hissed to himself and turned, Dustfeather and Newtspots in tow. He stopped at a holly bush tunnel and panted for a moment before letting out a loud yowl and heading down it.

Dustfeather followed, uncomfortable and anxious and praying Spidersting and Thistlespot be alright. She didn't expect either turn, but eventually made it out and into Flameclan's camp.

Flowerpool, looking more old and tired than Dustfeather had ever seen, came close and started to run her paws and muzzle over each of their pelts in turn. Dustfeather was too shocked to explain. As Dustfeather concentrated on the crowd, she caught Redstrike and Hawktail, being groomed by Rosewind. Willowstar, Dapplefoot, Chivefoot and Cypress-star emerged from the Highledge and jumped down in turn. As they all reached the ground, the rain let up.

"Are any of you hurt?" called Willowstar. Driftskip shook his head, his eyes still wide. "Oh, Starclan, I'm sorry. It was such a rush I'd though you were in the crowd- we've never- the camp…" he sputtered. Frogflash sat up from in front of the elder's den.

"Where are Thistlespot and Spidersting….." Frogflash asked softly, as if he already knew the answer but couldn't bare to hear it. Driftskip shook his head. Frogflash let out a high-pitched wail, trying to streak past Driftskip to find the two golden she-cats alive and well, but Driftskip caught him before he could.

"Th…" he gulped, "They're gone, Frogflash."

For a moment Frogflash was frozen, staring at the gazes of Spidersting's kits. Dustfeather looked just as distraught as her father, but Newtspots looked like his mind was already on the warpath. Shaking and sobbing, Frogflash fell onto the tom's shoulder.

"They're dead…." Frogflash sobbed into his shoulder, his muffled cries the only sound in the clearing, "She's dead…."

Driftskip looked at his kits sympathetically. "I'll explain to you in the morning," he mewed, "Get settled in."

Cypress-star, not paying attention to their drama, stepped closer and led Dustfeather and Newtspots with a flick of his tail next to Redstrike.

"We weren't expecting guests," he mewed, "We don't have the room to keep you in all the dens. I know you like Redstrike's company, Dustfeather," he headed off with a nod and Dustfeather settled down while Newtspots stormed off past Driftskip.

Redstrike didn't say anything, just laid down and opened her paws for her to muzzle into her chest and neck. Dustfeather not-so-happily obliged.