CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Rowanstar lay in front of him, her slender body shuddering with each breath. The effort it took to speak was visible in the trembling of her body, the way her shoulders heaved, their points bony and angular under her shrivelled skin. The she-cat was old, but Toadstripe had never seen her like this before, so weak that each glance up at him was fight to keep her lids from close, and each swallow was a fight to keep her head off her paws, lest she never be able to raise it again.

"Toadstripe," she rasped, voice hoarse.

He was suddenly aware that he was standing in the den with her. The tom had a dim sense that it was night, but the only world he cared about was the one inside of her den. Beyond the moss lay a vast expanse of nothingness that threatened to drown him. The ground underneath his paws was molding to him and suddenly he and Rowanstar were the only two cats left that mattered, trapped inside of this rounded dome of sickness and regret.

"Rowanstar." His voice came out nervous and shocked. The tom fought to deepen it. He couldn't appear weak now, not when she needed him the most. Her eyes glanced over him, her glance appraising, and he straightened his shoulders, trying to look proper. "I have just received word from our evening patrol. There has been more ShadowClan scent on our territory – it's the same warrior as last time."

She shook her head, the gesture slow and painful. "You've already told me this, Toadstripe."

"No, I..." he protested, confused. Toadstripe's eyes narrowed, perplexed. "But I just received word right now..."

Rowanstar glanced up at him, her eyes twinkling with all the amusement she could muster. "You've already told me this. Think. Where are we now?"

He looked down at his paws and they were stained with blood. Toadstripe jerked backwards, but the skin between his fine black fur remained tinged with crimson. As he stepped away, he realized that they were sticky, the blood fresh. "I don't understand," he mewed. But images began to flash through his mind – leading the patrol into ShadowClan camp, battling with the dark grey apprentice, seeing Hailstripe's body lying on the ground, the tom's throat slit and the blood running towards him, dark rivulets on the loam.

"No," he gasped, trying and failing to deny it. His memory was rushing back but he had no idea where they were in time. The only thing he knew was that Rowanstar was in front of him, weak and tortured. "But the kit – the apprentice – that Silverpool warned me about... he has something to do with Hailstripe's death?"

"You already knew that," said Rowanstar. "But how can you protect him? He came here for protection, Toadstripe. But what if you fail?"

"Why would I fail?" he asked her anxiously.

"Is RiverClan truly safe?" Rowanstar asked cryptically. "Think about it. The ShadowClan patrol. Whatever instigated the battle... But you already know this. You've been thinking this for the past moon. You just refuse to see..."

"Tell me what you mean!" he pressed her anxiously. She looked up at him sadly and he realized that the blood was now beginning to crawl up his legs and stain his underbelly, drenching in a sticky wetness, the metallic scent unbearable. "Rowanstar! Help me!"

She shook her head. "You have to help me."

Toadstripe frowned. "What... What do you mean?"

But he saw her coughing, saw the way her eyes were beginning to gloss over, and he saw the way her body was shrinking inwards. Her skin was flaking away, turning into ash, and he could only watch as it became to disintegrate over her, her eyes and ears turning into a flurry of black dust that engulfed him, clogging his eyes and his ears, and when he opened his mouth in a silent scream, it swirled in and choked him.

.

He woke up feeling colder than he had ever been. His pads were damp with sweat and he shivered as he pulled himself to his paws, frozen despite the sun outside.

It was halfway to sunhigh, and the RiverClan camp was already bustling with activity. Cats were sharing tongues, chatting amiably and milling around with prey in their jaws. The whole place scented overwhelmingly of fish, but it was a scent that he had grown used to. Usually it reminded him that this place was his home. Today, it offered no comfort.

Toadstripe looked around, his eyes drawn to Rowanstar's den. The tom felt a shudder run through him. It had only been a dream, but it had felt so real. He was certain that it hadn't been sent by StarClan and that it was just his mind trying to tell him something, but that made it no less disconcerting. Apart from planting the thought of a traitor in RiverClan, it had also reminded him of something else: Rowanstar was old.

He knew she only had one life left. She had been leader for moons upon moons before he had even been born. Out of all the cats in the forest, she was the one that he respected the most. But her time with RiverClan was coming to an end, and the tom didn't know if he was ready to be leader. Toadstar. He shook his head rapidly, trying to dislodge the thought.

Two kits ran past his paws. Toadstripe twisted around to look at them as they scrambled to their paws. The first, a black tom with bright amber eyes, approached him eagerly. "Sorry, Toadstripe!" he mewed, not sorry at all. Toadstripe felt a purr rumble through him. The kit's eyes were full of confidence, and a sense of entitlement. Yet there was no arrogance there, just the simple belief that he could do anything to which he put his mind.

The second kit followed him more slowly. She was fluffy and grey, with bright green eyes that were filled with anxiety. Fogkit said nothing, just sat with her tail curled around her paws. Her ears twisted and Toadstripe followed their angle in time to see Morningstep padding towards them.

"Are they bothering you?" asked the ginger queen with a cheerful purr. She tried to pull the kits towards her with a deft movement of her forepaw. Fogkit allowed herself to be gathered, but Rainkit dodged his mother's movement.

"Of course not," mewed Toadstripe genuinely. He looked from the kits to the queen. "They're coming along well, Morningstep. Are they almost ready to be apprenticed?"

She nodded. "They're five moons, but they're starting to get a little too big for the nursery." At this, Rainkit let out a mock growl and leapt at his sister, bowling her over. The two kits scuffled for a moment before Fogkit let out a squeak and gave in.

"He reminds me of his father," said Toadstripe as he gazed at Rainkit. It was true; the black kit had Reedthroat's muscular build, as well as his father's penchant for trouble. Reedthroat had matured into a fine warrior, despite his sometimes aggressive nature, and he had no doubt that Rainkit would as well.

"Thank you." Morningstep's eyes shone with pride at the thought of her mate. Then she frowned. "But we shouldn't be keeping you, Toadstripe. Russetpaw is waiting."

"What?" he asked, rather stupidly.

Morningstep blinked. "Russetpaw told me that you two were going to do some fishing this morning. He left awhile ago; I assumed you were going to meet him."

Right. Toadstripe had completely forgotten. The dream had thrown him off and now his apprentice was suffering for it. The tom sighed and dipped his head to the queen. "That's right. Thank you, Morningstep."

How had he forgotten?

And more importantly, what had his dream meant?

.

He met Russetpaw by the stream, ignoring the fact that this was the stream where he had met Silverpool on their nights out of camp, and where she had visited him in his dream nearly a moon ago. The ginger tom was waiting for him with his shoulders straight and his head held high in the air, his whole body radiating a conscious confidence in his abilities.

Toadstripe padded up beside his apprentice. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

Shaking his head, Russetpaw met his mentor's eye. "I'm sure you had important things to take care of," he mewed roughly.

The brown-and-black tom felt a rush of guilt. He hadn't been busy. He had merely overslept. "Right," he mewed, his eyes falling on two silver fish lying by his apprentice's side. "Have you already started?"

Russetpaw nodded. "I figured I would catch a couple while I waited."

"Good," mewed Toadstripe, memories of the dream returning to him. "That's very good, because there was something I wanted to talk to you about..."

Something flashed in the tom's dark eyes. "What is it, Toadstripe?"

The bi-coloured deputy took a deep breath and sat down, curling his tail over his paws. Despite Russetpaw's impressive size, Toadstripe had an air of authority about him that intimidated the ginger tom, and he knew his apprentice would respect him. "It's about the battle with ShadowClan."

Russetpaw didn't move. "What about it?" he asked slowly.

"You know Hailstripe died," said Toadstripe softly. "I was wondering if you knew who killed him."

"No, I don't," mewed Russetpaw, drawing his words out carefully. "Hailstripe's death was a tragedy for all the Clans, Toadstripe. If I knew who the cat was who killed him, I would have told you by now. I would never something that unjust go unreported."

Toadstripe blinked, a feeling of relief settling in his stomach. "I know, Russetpaw. I just thought..."

The dream had warned him about a traitor in RiverClan. The thought had been whirling around his mind since the battle, but he had never put words to it until now. Some cat in RiverClan must have been working to cause the battle. But why? Who would want to instigate a fight between the two Clans, especially if it resulted in the death of a deputy?

"Should I go back to fishing now?" asked Russetpaw hesitantly.

Toadstripe shook his head. "There's something else... You were the one who reported the ShadowClan patrol on the night we attacked. You came back to camp, wide-eyed, claiming that you had seen a group of invaders. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember!" Russetpaw bristled. "I still stand by it. There were ShadowClan cats on our territory, Toadstripe. I wouldn't make up something like that."

"I trust you," said Toadstripe softly, blinking in apology. "But can you tell me everything that happened that night?"

"Sure..." said Russetpaw, trailing off. "But why are you asking?"

"I just had a thought," mewed the deputy. "But it doesn't matter. Keep going."

The ruddy apprentice sighed. "I was out hunting, like I told you, and I saw them through the reeds. There were a few of them, maybe four or five, all strong warriors. I heard them talking about invading, so I rushed back to camp as quickly as possible. I knew I had to warn you, and I knew we had to retaliate." Here, his eyes gleamed.

"Can you describe them?" asked Toadstripe. Perhaps a RiverClan cat had been among them, scent disguised, and Russetpaw simply hadn't made the connection.

Russetpaw narrowed his eyes. "I guess. There was a mottled brown tom, a skinny grey one, and a tan she-cat. They were followed by a red-and-white she-cat as well as a dark grey tom. Young. He was just an apprentice."

Toadstripe's mind was spinning, but he managed to catch on to something. "Are you talking about Sootpaw?" he asked with a frown. His voice was grave, but there was a doubt hanging in the back of his mind.

"Why do you think I don't trust him?" asked Russetpaw with the hint of a snarl. "I think he's a ShadowClan spy, sent here so that they can finish what they started."

Toadstripe shook his head. "Both Rowanstar and I trust him, Russetpaw. You should do the same."

"I'm sorry," said the ginger tom bitterly. "But I don't."

He swallowed, not wanting to believe what his mind was screaming at him. "Are you sure of what you saw? Was Sootpaw really on the invading force?"

"I'm completely sure, Toadstripe," said Russetpaw bitterly. "You should drive him out now."

"I'll talk to Rowanstar," said Toadstripe numbly. He was staring at his apprentice, his mouth dry and his mind ringing with shock. There was no way that this was true, but it had to be. There was no other explanation.

He knew that Sootpaw hadn't been on that patrol. He had seen it in the tom's eyes during the battle, seen it in the confusion blatantly painted across his face. Sootpaw had been just as confused as the others. There had been no ShadowClan patrol. No instigation whatsoever.

Toadstripe knew who the traitor was. He just didn't want to believe it.

x x x

The light spattering of rain had just ended as Dawnpaw pulled herself out from underneath a shrub, her ginger fur damp and her slender form shivering. The drizzle had struck without warning, and the sun was still shining high up in the blue sky, as if mocking them for falling for such a trick. She glowered at it darkly.

Thickfur was waiting for her as she scrambled back to her paws. "Where's the vole?" he asked harshly.

The ginger she-cat shifted from paw to paw, uncomfortable. "It got away."

"Of course it did," he sneered. "It heard you coming fox-lengths away."

She said nothing, just fixed her gaze on his chin and kept her body as relaxed as she could, fighting every instinct to turn and run, or else to spit and yowl. Thickfur eventually let out a heavy sigh.

"Let's go try somewhere else," he said softly, his amber eyes neutral as they swept over the forest around them.

Thickfur turned and left, and Dawnpaw immediately fell into step behind him, keeping a good distance from the broad-shouldered tom. They hadn't spoken about her mind-link with Sootpaw since she had tried to convince him of Hailstripe's murder, and though she was angry at him for not believing her, Dawnpaw was sure that there was a reason. She just didn't know what it was.

Thickfur wasn't mouse-brained. He must believe her about the mind-link – it was the only thing that could have explained how she knew about the ShadowClan attack. He had to believe that she could talk to Sootpaw in her head. So why was he so desperate to believe that Hailstripe's death had been nothing more than a tragic accident?

You're only seven moons, Dawnpaw reminded herself. You're too young for him to believe about something as serious as this. Yet he believed you about the ShadowClan attack...

Whatever the case, she needed to make Thickfur listen to her at some point. If he knew the truth about Falconswoop, he would be a valuable ally against the tom. But if he told Slatestar or anyone else, not knowing that Falconswoop was the source of evil in the forest, she didn't know what would happen. What if Falconswoop found out somehow? Sootpaw wouldn't be safe.

Sootpaw. She winced.

The smoky grey apprentice was in RiverClan now, and after their argument the other day, she hadn't had any more contact with the tom. She missed his voice reverberating in the back of her mind, even if it was insulting her, calling her kittypet or soft.

She wanted him to know just how important he was to her. Maybe she wassoft-hearted for believing in love, especially now when it was all tumbling down around her, but that was so much better than the alternative of not believing at all. She loved Branchpaw, she loved Elmheart, she loved Sootpaw – and she was so much stronger for it. But Sootpaw felt that he had to go through these trials alone, and it broke Dawnpaw's heart.

But I have to let him do it. I have to let him realize this for himself.

Her love for Branchpaw kept her working to fix their connection. They weren't speaking, just dipping their heads to each other and mumbling greetings whenever their paths crossed, but she knew she would never let her brother wither away like he was doing now. She would save him, Dawnpaw was sure of it. She had to save him. Her body burned with anger at whatever was pulling him from her, but more than that, it burned with anger at her own inability to protect him.

Thickfur stopped suddenly and Dawnpaw nearly ran into him. She caught herself at the last moment, preparing to ask why they had stopped, and then realized that they were standing in the middle of the training hollow.

Her mentor stepped away from her, his amber eyes once again tinged with scorn. "I'm going to show you how to do a proper crouch for hunting birds," he mewed.

She perked up. "But we haven't done any hunting of birds before, at least, not if they're above the ground," said Dawnpaw hesitantly. Thickfur was actually going to show her something new, even after she had just failed to catch that vole?

"Oh yes, I had completely forgotten that. After all, it's not like I'm your mentor and have to deal with you every day." Sarcasm was heavy in his voice. The tom glared at her and she cringed away.

Thickfur turned away, a wave of cold rolling off of his pelt and engulfing her. Dawnpaw shivered, hurt by his sudden rejection, but she padded closer to listen regardless.

"If birds are on the ground, you can follow the same protocol as you do for hunting mice," Thickfur instructed. "But if they're on a branch, everything depends on your jumping skills. You have to be able to sneak up and then subtly shift into a good position from which to launch yourself upwards. It's all about timing and skill."

Dawnpaw nodded, her eyes following her mentor's every gesture as he demonstrated, crouching low to the ground and then leaping up higher than Dawnpaw would have thought possible. Thickfur landed nimbly on his paws and turned back towards her, his grey tabby fur fluffed up from the jump.

"Let me see you get into a good crouch," he demanded, and she quickly complied. At his instructions, Dawnpaw stalked towards one of large beech trees on the side of the hollow. Then, at a quick nod from Thickfur, she leapt.

After she had landed, she turned back to him, wondering if she had achieved a good height compared to the tree. Thickfur wandered over to her. "Good," he said abruptly. "But it could be much better. Make sure you really spring up from your hind legs. That's where all your height comes from. And stretch out your forepaws as well; you want your body to be as fluid as possible."

Dawnpaw nodded and they repeated the drill. This time as she leapt up against the tree, she saw her forepaws pass just over top of the lowest branch. Thickfur nodded approvingly as she landed. "Better. Try again."

They fell into a comfortable pattern. He would issue the directions and she would comply, trying to achieve a little more height each time. It was hard work, but after a few dozen tries, she was consistently getting her paws at least a mouse-length over the lowest branch.

She liked this. Things felt natural between her and Thickfur. There was no disdain in his voice, just an electric sense of being alive. She realized that this was what he wanted as well; a time when he could train her and watch as she came into fruition, following his orders until her leap was perfect and she had visibly improved by the end of the session. Falling into this rhythm, she could almost forget all the harsh words that he had said to her. His amber eyes were bright as he corrected her, eventually coming closer to nudge her with his muzzle or tail, fixing an angle in her stance or pushing her lower against the ground.

It was – Dawnpaw realized as she landed deftly on her feet, her amber eyes alive with exhilaration – rather fun.

They were so caught up in their training that they didn't notice a third cat slipping into the hollow.

Thickfur was the first to turn around. His amber eyes, so soft and open, hardened instinctively as they met another cat. Dawnpaw realized that she didn't like the change. Swallowing, she followed his gaze to see Cherrytail padding towards them.

"Hello," he greeted his sister. His voice was amiable, but there was a shield over it. Dawnpaw realized that Thickfur was slowly falling back into his old persona.

"Nettleclaw told me I might find you here," mewed Cherrytail, her green eyes glittering with excitement. "I have exciting news."

Dawnpaw's gaze flickered to Thickfur, but he was staring straight ahead, his body tense. "What news, Cherrytail?" the dark grey tabby mewed.

Her tail flicked excitedly through the trees. "I'm moving to the nursery!"

"You're... pregnant?" asked Dawnpaw, her mouth dry. "Bearing kits?"

Cherrytail nodded, beaming. The she-cat positively radiated happiness. Dawnpaw mentally went through all of the toms of the Clan in her head, searching for the father. Slatestar was Cherrytail's father, Nettleclaw was still heart-broken over Larkflight, Beechclaw had a mate, and Thickfur was her brother. That left Owlfeather and Elmheart, both of whom were far younger than the spotted she-cat. Dawnpaw felt a rush of jealousy at the idea that it might be Elmheart who had fallen for Cherrytail.

It was Thickfur who voice the question. "The father?"

"A tom who loves me very much," said Cherrytail without missing a beat. She was glowing, Dawnpaw realized. This was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

She knew that queens didn't have to reveal the father of their kits. It was fine that Cherrytail didn't want to name him. But if this cat loved her very much, then why didn't he want to be known as the father of her kits? If he did love her, Dawnpaw would expect them to publicly be mates. It was when you weren't mates that you didn't announce the father. So why this contradiction?

Breaking the silence was Thickfur's deep voice. "Congratulations, Cherrytail. I'm happy for you."

Dawnpaw nodded hastily, trying not to fumble over the words. "Your kits will be beautiful," she mewed in an oddly high-pitched voice. Thickfur shot her a sharp glare and she immediately looked at the ground. This should have been a joyous occasion for the Clan, but Dawnpaw couldn't help but think that there was something very wrong with this.

"Who else have you told?" asked Thickfur.

"No one yet," said Cherrytail, shaking her head. "I wanted you to be the first. But I'm going to go tell Auburnfur now; she'll want to know that she has a new denmate. Besides, she needs all the help with Breezekit that she can get."

"Has Breezekit had another episode?" asked Dawnpaw with a frown.

"No, not yet..." Cherrytail mewed, trailing off once she realized what she had said. "I'd better leave you two to your training, though. I'll be seeing you!"

With that, she was gone. Thickfur hesitated a moment and then turned to Dawnpaw, amber eyes hard. "Do you know who the father is?" he asked calmly, but she could tell that there was a concealed edge to his voice.

The ginger she-cat shook her head rapidly. "I have no idea... It doesn't make sense. If they're in love, they should be mates. She shouldn't be hiding it."

He chuckled, dry and humourless. "Things always make sense, Dawnpaw. If you find something that doesn't, check one of your assumptions. It'll be wrong."

Dawnpaw stared at him, a heavy cloud of confusion settling over her. Yet she couldn't help but feel a small grain of light growing in the middle of the fog. Thickfur was right. She didn't quite understand what he meant – not yet – but she knew that it didn't bode well. Something about Cherrytail's news was creating an ominous feeling within her.

Something was very wrong.

Something else? Dawnpaw asked herself bitterly, and this time it was she who chuckled.

X X X X X X X

A/N: My apologies for not updating sooner; I was on vacation for the weekend. On the bright side, I have the next chapter finished as well, so that should be up in a couple of days. I know I said I would be throwing Dawnpaw a curveball, and this was sort of like the first half. Not to give too much away, but things have to get resolved with Elmheart as well.

Anyways, I love Thickfur in this chapter, honestly. He does have a good side. As for the questions about whether or not he was the apprentice Falconswoop terrorized... We'll see.

So I proofread this before posting, and hopefully there won't be any typos :S

dragonFELL: All unrequited loves make me think of Snape and Lily, but it definitely crossed my mind when I was writing Birchcloud :)

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed! Do I need to repeat how amazing you all are? I suppose I will anyway. You guys are all great!

Almost at 200 reviews, by the way. Keep it up. Next chapter starts off with a Sootpaw POV, and I absolutely love it.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)