Moon of First Heat, 2nd Sun

Lilacbreeze was kitting.
The camp was as silent as Twilightpaw had ever heard it, with most cats taking shelter from the sullen heat. Greenleaf had arrived at last and it came in full force, the sun blazing relentlessly onto the moors, and the prickly bush that made up most of their camp was ill-suited for shade. The vast majority of the hunting was done only in the morning and evening—even Rapidstar could see that it was too much of a risk to expect warriors to chase after rabbits in such weather. Sunhigh and afternoon was spent quietly napping the hot hours away.

Lilacbreeze could have hardly chosen a worse time to birth. Although cats are extremely well-adapted to heat, the sudden change had thrown their systems off-balance. Heat rash and sunstroke became regular complaints and Moonpelt had little opportunity to refresh her herb supply. The pool in the camp became their only regular water supply during the day, and cats suffered as a result.
Twilightpaw had at last been able to rejoin her brother in the apprentices' den, although technically her solitary confinement still had two moons to run. It seemed to be some variant of parole. At times, however, she wished she was on her own again. The den was drenched in Cloudpaw's smell—an aroma that haunted her nightmares and stirred to life the voices in her head once more.
Whether it was the heat or Cloudpaw's loss she could not say, but in the past week the Clan had somehow diminished. There seemed less laughter, and cats she had always thought of as timeless suddenly looked very old. Just this morning she had observed Rapidstar struggle slightly to climb the Lightningridge, his sides heaving against ribs that were more pronounced than before.
And Missingclaw was dying. He might not end today, or tomorrow, or for another week, but the great darkness was closing in on him as does a wolf on a tired deer.

Twilightpaw heard a gasp from the depths of the nursery, and remembered with a flash the births of Skypaw and Cloudpaw. How she had floated above, watching their shadows form. Not again, please, she whispered to anyone who might listen or care.
Nice try, hypocrite.
She shook her head slowly and crept into the elders' den where Missingclaw lay.
Ambershade stood over him. The old she-cat had remained touchingly devoted to her denmate even as he sickened and fell within. It occurred to Twilightpaw that she must have been very beautiful in her youth, as the afternoon light touched her ginger fur with fire.
Missingclaw stirred slightly as Twilightpaw stepped nearer to him. His cavernous mouth hung open and her nose twitched at the odour of death that rose from within. His gums and tongue glistened the colour of old carrion and his half-opened eyes were chips of clouded topaz. Pools of some violet substance bloomed beneath them.

Moonpelt and Skypaw had both examined him as thoroughly as possible. His breathing and heart rate were normal; he showed no sign of fever or disease—by all accounts he should be as strong and lively as he was two weeks ago. Yet he was dying all the same and Twilightpaw felt herself grow a little more empty at the prospect of his loss. Ambershade's lip curled slightly at the sight of Twilightpaw but she did not object.
"Goodbye, Missingclaw," Twilightpaw wasn't sure how much mind he had left, but it felt important to say all the same. Surprisingly, his eyes flickered and grew a little brighter at the sound of her voice and he turned to her.
"Stranger's child," he whispered hoarsely. "Be good. I'll say hello to the little one for you."
"Does it hurt?" she asked, feeling her throat burn.
"It's not pleasant, sweetie, I won't lie. But me and that old reaper—we go way back. I don't fear him anymore. I'm ready to go. To let go. It gets very tiring, life, after a while. It'll be good to get some rest at last."
"And what do I do?" she mewed, trying to ignore Ambershade's silence.
"What you must. You've got a brain, broken and unused though it might be. And you can see them…they'll help. Be strong for Lilacbreeze's kits. There'll be a mutation among one of them or I'll eat my tail." He coughed suddenly and Twilightpaw stepped away, unable to help herself.
"Be good," he said again, and his eyes darkened once more. Ambershade let out a quiet sigh and padded to his side. The elder queen knelt by her friend and spoke softly, so softly that it was drowned out by Missingclaw's rasping breath, and as she left the den, Twilightpaw never heard her voice.

"I want to go home," Twilightpaw whispered to herself as she stood in the bright sunlight, not really knowing what she meant. She turned to the hare and tried to press her nose into his fur, but he bounded several steps away from her and swivelled his ears back to the nursery. Silvertail rested outside the entrance, a queen on her throne of thorns, and Twilightpaw went to her for lack of anything else to do. Halfway there, she stopped.
"There was a horse," she said, uncertain, and her eyes searched the camp for the watchers she knew must be there, teeth inches from her throat. "Her name was…"
"Keep moving." The hare showed neither interest nor sympathy.
I don't remember anymore, she thought with a deep sense of shame.
"If you forget me," the hare said at last, "don't look for me…"
For I shall have already forgotten you. I'm sorry. She sat by her foster mother, who turned to look at her with her clear blue eyes. Twilightpaw realized for the first time how utterly empty they were.

"Missingclaw's dying," she said.
The silver queen nodded. "Yes. And Lilacbreeze is kitting. Ill omens indeed."
She hadn't thought of it in that way. "Bad luck?"
"A child born in the shadow of death is likely to stay in it. Perhaps not such bad luck for the kits, but it doesn't bode well for the Clan."
"I find it strange," Twilightpaw said hesitantly, "that a cat like you, who prides herself on rationality, still believes in superstition."
Silvertail's mouth tightened. "It is not the omens that I believe—more the reactions of those who do still hold faith in them." She shifted and flicked her ears back to the nursery; on cue, there was a groan of pain.
"How badly does it hurt?" Twilightpaw whispered.
"Birthing? Somewhat. It varies from queen to queen, but normally not so much as the tomcats, in their relief and envy, would have you believe. Mostly it's the waiting that's the hard part. I was in labour for fourteen hours with—your brother. After the first night, I had lost all patience, but there's naught you can do but wait. "
"Was Moonpelt worried?"
"She wasn't there."
"Why not?"
"Because I told her to stay out. She returned only once my kits were all born."

Twilightpaw wanted to ask more about this, but Silvertail's lip curled slightly when she took in breath to speak. Suddenly she became frustrated with her foster-mother's constant attempts to intimidate her, so she mewed instead, "And your other kits died."
"Yes." Silvertail turned away, the fur on her neck bristling.
"That must have been hard."
"Not really. I did not know them. My firstborn was Valiantpaw. He was as strong and healthy as any queen could expect. My second was dead. My lastborn only lived for an hour or so. She came into this world too deformed."
"You didn't mark their graves."
"What good would it have done? They had not experienced life long enough to earn a permanent place in it. I left their bodies for the crows and worms, with my blessing and StarClan's."
Twilightpaw felt slightly sick, and the hare growled softly. "You didn't feel anything at all?"
For a while the silver she-cat was silent before speaking. "I was angry. I had done everything right. Most LightningClan queens chase rabbits until their first contractions, and everyone accepted their losses as part of life. I did not. From the moment I knew I was pregnant I stayed in the nursery, performed no more strenuous activity than walking in the sunlight. And still my kits' survival rate was no better than those of my kith. I felt cheated. Then along came Rapidstar with a broken-tailed runt between his jaws claiming that StarClan had killed my children so that I could raise some other queen's unwanted get. That made me bitterer still."

Twilightpaw said nothing. Did Silvertail expect her to apologize for the terrible crime of existing? Of needing milk and a home? For a moment she was tempted to talk about the poisoned river, but only for a moment.
Silvertail rolled her shoulders and looked back at Twilightpaw. "I did blame you. Some days, I still do. But I suppose in the end you are not that much different from a child that I birthed myself."
She bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood. "I am nothing like you," she hissed at the implication, before climbing to her paws and pushing towards the warriors' den.

Crimsonflame blinked sleepily at her. "Twilightpaw? Is that you?"
"Yes," she replied. "I want to go hunting."
"In this weather? The rabbits will be underground in any case."
"I don't mind the heat," she answered, somewhat truthfully. "And I can still catch birds. There are plenty eating the grass seeds. I want some air."
"I don't know," her mentor said, sliding out of the den, squinting in the sunlight. "I don't think any apprentices should go wandering around on their own out there. Not after Cloudpaw. Can you take Longshadow or Valiantpaw with you?"
"If I take Valiantpaw, will you let me go?"
Crimsonflame narrowed her eyes at her apprentice's tone. "Is something wrong?" she asked in a mew that implied there had better not be.
"I feel cooped up in here and I'm bored. There's nothing to do."
"Oh, let her go out," Stormheart said from the depths of the den. "The patrols have seen nothing and the heat will keep the big predators in their den. And StarClan knows we could use fresh meat. Any prey we catch is usually desiccated with a few hours, and Lilacbreeze needs more than that."
"Okay," Crimsonflame relented. "If you take Valiantpaw with you and promise to be back well before dark. I mean that, Twilightpaw, don't go wandering off."
"I won't. You have my word." For once, she had every intention of keeping it, too. Bidding them both farewell she found Valiantpaw stretched out in the apprentices' den.

"Can you do cover duty for me?" she asked him.
"Hello to you as well," he grunted from his nest, pulling himself upright. "What's going on?"
"I want to go for a walk on my own, but Crimsonflame won't let me unless I take you. So just go have a nap in a bush somewhere for a few hours and say I was with you the whole time."
"You don't want company, then?"
Twilightpaw shook her head. Valiantpaw hesitated for a moment before leading the way out of the camp entrance, nodding to the sentry.

Once the camp had disappeared behind them he said, "You're not worried about being caught?"
"A LightningClan cat killed Cloudpaw," Twilightpaw said, cold as the north wind. "I want him to find me."
"What makes you so sure it's a he?" Valiantpaw seemed quite serious.
"He or she. You won't be able to tell once I'm finished with them."
Her brother shook his head and exhaled slowly. "I don't like seeing you this way, Twilightpaw. Or Longshadow, for that matter. You're not your usual selves. Why can't you just…well, I won't say let it go, but maybe take it easy."
Twilightpaw looked at him incredulously. Take it easy?
"I want justice for Cloudpaw, too," he added, "but I don't see the good of deliberately putting myself in danger to get it. Cloudpaw wouldn't want that."
"How do you know?" she demanded scathingly. "Did you ask him?"
"I didn't have to," he replied, the calm to her storm. "He was my friend too, little sister."
Twilightpaw sighed and felt the weight on her shoulders grow a little heavier. "Yes. I forget that sometimes."
You promised Longshadow you'd stop thinking that way, didn't you? Nice going. Way to keep your word.
Valiantpaw licked her ear gently. "It'll be all right," he whispered. "I know it will be. Until then, we just have to keep going."
"I just feel like…like I owe him more than that. He was my friend. I knew him since he was old enough to talk." She laughed bitterly. "I keep thinking that maybe if I do find his killer, he'll come back. Somehow."
Her brother had nothing to say to that, instead glancing up at the sky. "Maybe you do need some time on your own. I'll wait near the stream."
"Thank you."
"Don't be forever. It's hot out here."

She did not reply, merely padding away without a backwards glance. The hot breeze scoured her fur and stung her nostrils and throat. Although her greenleaf coat had come in, she still felt uncomfortably heavy, and her instincts told her to seek shade and water. Some part of her agreed and guided her footsteps towards the heavy forests of DarkClan, where the earth was cooler underfoot. She felt a stir of unease as the trees restricted her view.
For a while she just sat, thinking of little. She considered trying to make her way through DarkClan territory and finding Shadowstrike or Felicity. One of them might know who the mysterious Nighthawk was. The name was Clan, but Twilightpaw could not remember hearing it before, and she doubted that she would have been kept in the dark for so long about her parentage if she was simply from another Clan. But she feared the forest and its infestation of Twolegs—not to mention that she had promised not to wander far, and Twolegplace would be about as far as you could go. So she merely waited in the shade of an elm and mused. She might have sat like that for hours by the boundary line, but she was interrupted before too much time passed.

"Oh, it's you," Twilightpaw said, somewhat ungraciously, ignoring the sudden quickening of her pulse.
Cloakedpaw had grown larger still since she'd last seen him, and there was now almost as much silver in his fur as black; such was the profusion of scars on his body. But they weren't battle scars, as she had always assumed—a lesion marred his forehead and was making the transition.
"Nice to know I'm still welcome," he replied in kind, settling down on his side of the boundary. "What's bitten your tail?"
She wanted to snap at him, but suddenly she was tired of being rude to cats who didn't deserve it. "I lost a friend a week ago," she sighed. "Don't tell anyone. It's supposed to be a secret until the next Gathering."
"I'm sorry to hear that." He said it gently, but the words were still empty.
Twilightpaw's eyes found the sore on his head again. "Where'd you get that from?"
"Disgusting, aren't they? I wish the medicine cat would replenish his supplies." Cloakedpaw wrinkled his brow as though trying to hide it. "I've had them ever since I first became an apprentice. They last a day or so and then become scars. By the time I'm a full warrior, I'll probably be grey instead of black."
"What causes them?"
"Who knows? My mutation, probably. Nobody has ever heard of anything like it before, although according to the Children of the Dark a few of my ancestors carried something similar."
Twilightpaw thought for a few moments, then shrugged to herself. "Can I make you a deal?"
"Depends."
"You tell me what your mutation is and I'll tell you what caused it."
His red eyes widened; it was the first time she'd truly seen him taken off-guard. "You know?" he whispered.
"Damn straight I do. You won't like it a bit. But tell me your condition first."

Cloakedpaw hesitated and licked his lips. "It might be better if I showed you." With a powerful leap he sprang into one of the lower branches of the elm and began to scale it.
"You're in LightningClan territory. And I'm not going up there with you," Twilightpaw said bluntly.
"I don't expect you to," he called back down. "Only watch." Higher and higher he climbed, until the branches were so narrow they bent under his weight. Twilightpaw swallowed, nausea building within her just at the sight.
"Come down. You're going to fall," she mewed anxiously. He either didn't hear or ignored her, because there was no response.
Suddenly Cloakedpaw landed on a branch that simply refused to take him and flexed parallel to the trunk. It was too thin for Cloakedpaw to keep hold and he dropped like a stone, tumbling through the branches. He landed on his feet, naturally, but Twilightpaw had to look away to avoid being sick.

"What the hell was that meant to prove?" she demanded tightly.
"That's my mutation," Cloakedpaw said, grooming his fur nonchalantly.
"Stupidity?"
His eyes gleamed. "Truthfully now. If you had gone that high, how would you have felt?"
"Terrified," she said, still unsure what he was getting at. "As anyone with sense would be."
"That's it. Anyone with sense. Not me." He stepped back over his side of the boundary. "I don't feel fear, Twilightpaw. Not even a little bit. I knew I was going to fall when I jumped for that branch, but it didn't matter to me. When that little monster Scourgepaw was tearing what's-her-name apart, I didn't hesitate to fight him, because I wasn't worried about what he would do to me. I've never been afraid, my entire life."
"No fear," the hare said with mild interest. "So does that mean he has no courage, as well?"
Hush. "So when you were a kit, and you followed Deathstar out of the camp…"
"That's right. I didn't feel anything. It was just something I wanted to do, so I did it." He sighed softly. "I didn't even realize anything was wrong with me until I became an apprentice. It's a game among us, you see, to tease the Twolegs with the guns. Most of the cats would just run in front of them and disappear before they could shoot, but I would go right up and pull the guns from their hands or bite their fingers. I didn't understand why the others weren't doing that until I asked my mentor."
"Was that before or after the lesions started appearing?"
"After." He tilted his head. "All right, I kept my side of the bargain. What caused it, then? Why can't I feel fear?"
"Your mother was a Twolegpet, wasn't she? Your father was Clan?"
"Just so," he nodded.
"Maybe not your mother, then," she said, "but your father's mother, and her mother before that—they performed a ritual while pregnant. It's this ritual that causes the mutations. They went towards the same river the medicine cats use to share tongues with StarClan and drank the water in it. Only the water is poisoned, Cloakedpaw. It's contaminated by something that a Twoleg building puts in it. It smells horrible—like something rotting and dead. It mutates the kits, and they pass down their defects through the bloodline."

Cloakedpaw was silent for a long time, his red eyes distant. "A ritual," he said at last. "What for?"
"StarClan's blessings, supposedly."
"And in all that time, nobody made the connection?"
"I'm sure plenty have," Twilightpaw responded, "but what could they do? My Clan leader won't hear a word against StarClan. Any cat who dares suggest that the ritual be stopped would just be begging for exile. And who knows what the medicine cats would do? The river is a sacred place for them. They'd never agree to stop going."
Cloakedpaw dipped his head at this. "I'm going to have to think about this for a while," he mewed. "It's not that I think you're wrong, Twilightpaw, but…"
"…you think I'm mistaken, confused, or otherwise misinterpreted what I saw," she finished for him. "That's okay. Do you have any pregnant queens in your Clan?"
"Two," he nodded. "You want me to follow them?"
"If it's the same as in my Clan, they'll slip out one night and head for the Zone, near the Gathering place. You can see for yourself and decide."

Cloakedpaw seemed to grow more self-assured at this. "Yes. Maybe I will do that." He looked back at her. "Twilightpaw, how many cats have you told about this?"
"Four, counting you and me," she said. "Longshadow and Valiantpaw also know."
"Longshadow, huh? So he's a warrior now." The black tom dragged his paw through the leaf litter. "What do you plan to do with this information? Shout it from the treetops?"
"Great StarClan, no. We're going to tell the apprentices, and maybe a few of the younger warriors, and hopefully phase it out over time. Can you help with that?"
"I'm…I'm not exactly well-liked among my Clan, Twilightpaw. The other apprentices…well, if they aren't mocking me, they're afraid of me. I don't know how that feels but I know it when I smell it." He looked back at her and his gaze became resolute. "But I will do my best. That's a promise."
"That's all I ask," she replied with a smile.

They sat together for a little while, taking comfort from each other. Cloakedpaw tilted his head back to her. "So did you only come out here for some peace and quiet, or was there something else?"
"Maybe." Twilightpaw debated telling him, then decided that there was little risk, especially in light of what she'd already revealed to him. "Do you know of a cat named Nighthawk?"
Cloakedpaw became very still. "Where did you hear that name?"
"She brought me to the Clan…supposedly."
"Nighthawk is your mother?" His red eyes widened.
Twilightpaw thought. Had Moonpelt said something of that accord? She couldn't remember, it was too long ago. "Only one way to find out. Who is she, and do you know where I might find her?"
Her friend still seemed in shock. "Nighthawk was a DarkClan warrior," he mewed. "One of our best. Then she was exiled after killing a Clanmate. My grandfather, in fact."
"Why?" A prickle ran down her spine.
Cloakedpaw shrugged. "Who knows? Word was that they hated each other bitterly and most cats think she was provoked somehow. Spiderwhisker was a right bastard. They would have killed her, but because she confessed and seemed remorseful, Violentstar let her live and only kicked her out of the Clan."
"When was this?" Twilightpaw pressed.
"Oh, about…four years ago, maybe."
Twilightpaw licked her lips nervously. "Do you know where likes to go? Where I might find her?"
"I can do better than that," he said, almost proudly. "I can take you to her nest. I found it by accident ages ago. It's just outside DarkClan territory, on the barren lands between Clan territory and the mountains. No trespassing required."
"But Nighthawk must go into Clan territory to hunt," Twilightpaw puzzled. "There's no prey out in the barren lands, otherwise we would have taken it for ourselves."
Cloakedpaw shrugged. "She hunts in DarkClan territory, but we don't care particularly. We have more prey than we could ever need, even in the cold moons. It's easier to just lose a mouse now and again than risk a warrior being injured driving out the competition."
"If only we could afford that kind of cavalier attitude," Twilightpaw said wryly.
"Come to DarkClan, then, and you can."
"Nighthawk first," she reminded him, trying not to smile at his earnestness.
"Okay. You stay on your side of the border, then, and I'll stay on mine, and we'll both pray to StarClan that we're not found."

Twilightpaw was about to make a joke about that not being a worry on her part, but she hurriedly choked the words back. Telling Cloakedpaw that her territory was basically unguarded and ripe for invasion would be tantamount to treason, and even though she liked him more than most in her Clan, she didn't want to end up proving Longshadow right. Instead, she just nodded and they walked parallel down the border together. They passed the musk line of a young buck, and a darker thought occurred to her.
"Why didn't you warn me about the Twolegs?" she asked him shortly. "When me and Longpaw travelled through your territory. We were nearly killed."
"Were you? I'm sorry. It honestly didn't occur to me. The Twolegs are never a problem for us. We stay in the trees and they stay on the ground, and we only leave the canopy to hunt and patrol. They're used to us. Nobody's been hurt or killed by them in my lifetime."
"You're not worried about them finding your camp?"
Cloakedpaw's eyes gleamed at some hidden joke. "Not especially. Besides, it's a pretty good deal. The predators fear the Twolegs' guns, so they stay away, which means more prey for us, and they…" He stopped suddenly, and Twilightpaw knew that he was having the same thoughts she'd had earlier about loyalty. She did not press him.
"Unfortunately," she said instead, "your trees mean that I can't join you."
"Why not? I mean, sure, LightningClan doesn't have many trees, but all cats know how to climb. You'd be just as good as any of us after a few moons."
Twilightpaw shook her head. "I don't like heights. Any heights. Jumping from tree to tree…I have nightmares about falling. Joining DarkClan seems to be the best way to make them come true."
For a moment she looked at him, wondering if perhaps he understood, but there was only incomprehension in his eyes. Of course. He didn't know fear, didn't understand the terror she went through every time she dreamed of falling from a cliff.

At least he's not demanding that I "get over it", she thought with an internal sigh.
Coward. Coward coward coward coward coward.
They walked in silence for the rest of the way. The trees abruptly gave up their hold on the earth, yielding to the barrens.
The landscape was utterly desolate, without so much as a tree or a hill to break the monotony, although here and there the earth dipped and swelled. The soil was half-sand, half-stone, and the only vegetation was a kind of thick, prickly groundcover that clung to the barrens in clumps. Out here the heat was relentless, scorching the fur on the back of her neck. She could only imagine how black-furred Cloakedpaw was coping. Beyond, there was only the mountains; a treacherous and unbroken wilderness, no place for cats, or so the old stories had said (for no-one in Twilightpaw's lifetime had ever been there and returned). Something about them, however, made her heart beat a little faster. Perhaps it was simply the thought of the unknown, of walking somewhere beyond StarClan's gaze.

"Nighthawk lives here?" Twilightpaw asked, gesturing to the barrens with her tail. "It looks worse than HollowClan territory."
"It's more appealing in newleaf and leaf-fall. There's more plants, and the birds flock to catch insects. Still, I don't really know what keeps her here." Cloakedpaw took the lead, heading towards one of the small rises in the surface. It wasn't until they were very close that Twilightpaw recognized it as a burrow of some kind, barely large enough for two cats to fit side-by-side. All this was cast aside, however, in favour of the she-cat that crouched outside the entrance, quiet and still as a dying shadow.
Nighthawk. Twilightpaw's breath caught. The she-cat was old, and held herself in a way that made her seem older. Her fur was a shade or two away from being truly black, and her eyes were the fierce yellow-green of an eagle's. She was large without being spectacularly so, fit and muscular. Twilightpaw searched her, looking desperately for some kind of feature they shared, digging through her memory for a thread of familiarity. Wouldn't she know? Until then she had always thought that she would.

The old she-cat looked from one to the other, focussing on Cloakedpaw. "I've smelt you. You came poking around my den here a few moons ago."
He nodded. "I'm Cloakedpaw of DarkClan, son of Duskfell."
She snorted. "Duskfell. A fool. How is he?"
"He's dead."
That made her pause. "Another one. I suppose I should be glad, but…" She turned on Twilightpaw. "And you. I know you, too. Somewhere…" Her tongue crossed over cracked and yellow teeth. "Yes. Yes. The mutated kit."
"I'm Twilightpaw," she said, finding her voice.
"Don't I know it. A pretentious name if you ask me, but nobody ever does. I'm guessing you already know my name and sorry history, so if you don't mind we'll skip all that. What is it you seek? Not my wisdom, surely?" Yet Twilightpaw could tell that this old warrior was no fool, and already knew.
Cloakedpaw touched Twilightpaw's shoulder gently with his tail. "I'll leave you two alone to talk for a bit. That okay?"
"Yes, thank you," she said, and he padded away.
"Nothing but trouble in that direction, you take it from me." Nighthawk tilted her head after the DarkClan apprentice. "Do yourself and the world a favour and take a mate from within your Clan."
"He's not my—why does everyone assume that?" Twilightpaw said, frustrated. "We're just friends. And he's not important right now anyway."

Nighthawk sat up slowly and turned to face her. "Very well," she mewed, her voice so soft that Twilightpaw had to lean in slightly to hear her. "I can't pretend that I didn't think you'd find me. I expected it to take a little longer, though…"
"Yes. Well…" She didn't really know where to begin.
Ask what you need to be answered most, the hare said. The rest will follow.
Feeling more confident, Twilightpaw looked up into the elder's eyes. "You brought me to LightningClan."
"Yes. I did."
"Are you my mother?"
Nighthawk shook her head. "Sorry to crush your hopes after coming so far in this heat, but no. I've never had kits and I never will. Sterile as fox bait."
"Then…do you know?"
Nighthawk sighed. "May I be frank with you, little one?"
"Of course."
"Let it go. Let it all go. Just forget this whole parentage business."
Twilightpaw simply stared for a few moments. "Let it go? Why should I? I need to know where I come from and who I am."
"No," the outrunner corrected, "You want to know where you come from. You don't need it, any more than you need to know who your great-great-great grandfather was or your fourth cousin removed twice. Blood? What does blood mean? If a warrior of StarClan were to jump from the sky and say you were the daughter of Lightningstar himself, would it change who you are? Would you not still be the same cat you were a few minutes ago?"
"I guess."
"Don't worry about where you come from. Worry about who you are. Let your parentage, or lack thereof, be something for others to decide. Someone wiser than me once said that to be yourself in a world that wants to make you into someone else is the greatest achievement of all."
"Yes," Twilightpaw said dryly, "thanks for the lecture. But, since as you have pointed out yourself, I've come a long way and looked hard for this information, so please, tell me who my mother is."
Nighthawk huffed. "Young cats! Have it your way, then. I don't know for certain, but I do know that she was a LightningClan queen, and I do know that for however short a period of time you were accepted into that Clan."

Although she had suspected this for some time now, it still hurt a little inside to hear it confirmed. "You're certain of this? It couldn't have been…I don't know…anything else?"
The outrunner shook her head slowly. "No. My senses have never lied to me yet, and I was younger then. You carried the scent of milk and herbs. A queen nursed you and a medicine cat had checked your health. Only a true LightningClan kit would have gained such treatment."
Twilightpaw swallowed and sighed quietly. Who could it have been? Not Silvertail, obviously…and not Lilacbreeze either, for the queen seemed happy to raise mutant children of uncertain parentage. Not Dreamcloud, who had been pregnant while Twilightpaw had been born, although it would have made a queer kind of sense…
"It would have to be a powerful she-cat," Twilightpaw mused. "Someone who could force Moonpelt into silence…"
"Or merely a good liar," Nighthawk shrugged. "It is no hardship to let a medicine cat check your children, then throw one away and say it died. It was common once, when the stigma on mutations was worse than it is now."
Twilightpaw looked up. "You know why they happen, right?"
"Yes," Nighthawk said simply. "But in the end, it is always the queen's choice. No-one is ever forced to go."

Something cold touched Twilightpaw spine and she stood slowly. "I suppose I should thank you," she said with a trace of bitterness.
"Spare me, apprentice. If I needed praise I'd become a Twolegpet. But you remember what I said. Find some other way to waste your time and grow into a strong warrior."
"What if I don't want to grow up into a LightningClan warrior?" They were old words, but they no longer had heat in them. She knew where she belonged now, and it wasn't on her own.
Nighthawk seemed to sense it. "I have known many cats, Clan and wildborn alike. Some love their loneliness, and feel constricted by the presence of even their mates and children. They travel far and beyond, forgetting their names, becoming the closest thing to a living spirit this plane can have. I have known many, and I have learned their look. You know how you can tell? When they speak, their voices are rusty from ill-use, and they never move their ears or tail. They exist solely for themselves. You are not one of them. As it should be, for you were raised to be one part of a greater whole."
"But you…"
"It is possible to learn to live in solitude. After a while, you might even find it peaceful. But you will never be as truly happy as you would have been had you stayed with your friends and family. If you take nothing else away from our meeting, take this: no cat should have to lead the life I've had. Or the life Deathstar has had. Or Clawstar's, StarClan forgive him. But though we started from the same places, we ended differently, and do you know why?"
"No," Twilightpaw and her hare said together.
"Just so," Nighthawk nodded. "So run along now, and remember. We are the choices that we make. That is why Deathstar stands tall and Clawstar and I have fallen and been forgotten." She turned away, then whipped back.

"Oh, and one more thing. Tell that…friend…of yours that if he comes sniffing around my den again I'll bite his ears off. This is about the only place I can rest without the Clan cats getting edgy, and I'd rather they didn't find it. Understand?"
"I'll tell him," was all Twilightpaw said, and she padded towards the black tom, more confused than she had ever been before in her short life so far.
"How did it go?" Cloakedpaw asked. Twilightpaw shrugged.
"Nothing but confirmation of stuff I already knew and a whole lot of other weird advice. Come on, I want to go home." A thought occurred to her, and she tilted her head towards the hare. She talks like you do.
"Does she, now?" the hare asked mildly. "What could that possibly mean?"

They hesitated at the edge of Clan territory, and Twilightpaw turned to Cloakedpaw. "Nighthawk tells you that she'll rip your ears off if you come near her den again."
"Trust me, I have no plans to," he replied. "I've never been a huge fan of smelly holes in the ground."
"Me neither," Twilightpaw said with a shudder, thinking of Cloudpaw. It hurt.
He chewed his lip for a moment or two. "Will I see you at the next Gathering?"
"I doubt it. I can't remember the last time any warrior went to a Gathering three times in a row, let alone an apprentice."
"Oh, okay." He seemed to be searching for other words, but couldn't find them. "I'll…see you around, then."
"Yeah. That would be nice." She favoured him with one last smile before turning back towards the moors. It was nice to feel proper grass underfoot, although the day was as hot as ever.

She found Valiantpaw by the stream near the training meadow, but he hadn't been sleeping. A small pile of fresh-kill lay at his feet as he groomed himself. When he saw her coming, he split it into two.
"Thank you," she said. "That was thoughtful."
Valiantpaw sniffed her fur and a frown settled on his handsome face. "You smell of DarkClan—and outrunner. Where have you been?"
"I found the she-cat who brought me to LightningClan," Twilightpaw shrugged. "I didn't really plan to do it when I set off, but things just worked out that way. I'm sorry if that annoys you."
"It doesn't really. I know you can look after yourself. But you take too many risks. One day, someone is going to catch you, and there'll be hell to pay." He stood up. "Find out anything useful from her?"
"Not as much as I would have hoped," Twilightpaw said, allowing the disappointment to show on her face. "Nighthawk—that's her name—didn't know anything. Except she's very certain that I am a LightningClan cat."
"And you're sure she's not lying?"
Twilightpaw shook her head. "We look nothing alike, and she doesn't seem the sort to abandon a child. Even a mutated one. As for the rest…what reason would she have to lie?"
"Sometimes cats lie for no reason at all other than they like it." He pushed her half of the prey towards her. "Clean your fur quickly and let's go. I wonder if Lilacbreeze has kitted yet?"
"Since when were you so fascinated by kits?" she teased him.
"Since never," Valiantpaw admitted with a smile, "but those kits might one day grow up to be our apprentices, and I want to find the pick of the litter."
"Apprentices?" It had never occurred to her.
"Why not? They're the right age. By the time they're six moons, we'll have been warriors for a while. Of course, Wolfclaw and Longshadow will probably get first choice, so I'll just have to hope for three kits." He glanced sideways at Twilightpaw. "Four kits, I mean."
She snorted. "Yeah, right. When was the last time a LightningClan queen had more than two in a litter?"
"Oh well, I'll suppose we'll have to fight to the death over them then," Valiantpaw teased, picking up a rabbit and leading the way back to camp. They were both in and out of luck.

Lilacbreeze had kitted while they were gone, and she permitted them entrance in a soft, weary mew. Twilightpaw stepped in.
She did not remember the nursery being so small. Only a few moons ago she had been able to stand on her hind legs and barely brush the ceiling. Now the top of her head occasionally touched the thorns that were woven above and below. Is it possible that I've grown so much without realising it? she wondered. A she-cat now, not a child after all. Her eyes picked out her old nest, the site of so many kittish nightmares, and she quickly turned back to Lilacbreeze.
"Only one?" Valiantpaw said in a curiously strained tone.
"Look closer," came the reply.
There were two bundles of fur, so tightly wrapped around one another that Twilightpaw still wasn't certain where one ended and the other began. Lilacbreeze nosed them gently and they tumbled apart. One was a soft, cloudy grey tabby she-kit. The larger kit was a male, pale brown in colour.
"I thought about naming the girl Cloudkit," Lilacbreeze said, pushing them back to her teats again. "They're of a colour, and it may be a sign. But the Clan will look on her sharply enough, being born while poor Missingclaw is dying, after all. I named her Dovekit instead, after my own mother."
"And her brother?" Twilightpaw asked.
"Falconkit. Just to keep to the theme." She nuzzled them, the aura of fierce love almost palpable.
"Dovekit and Falconkit," Twilightpaw whispered, savouring the names on her tongue. Lilacbreeze smiled.
"You'll be wanting to mentor them one day, I suppose."
"I wouldn't say no if they asked me," Valiantpaw said, still watching the kits. "Are they mutated?"
The queen flinched from such a blunt question. "Not that I can tell. That in and of itself means nothing, of course. We didn't know of Wolfclaw's teeth until he was an apprentice. He had a full set of milk teeth, but some of his adult ones just never came through. But Moonpelt has checked them and she says they're as healthy as could possibly be."
Twilightpaw smiled and murmured something, but her thoughts were far away. Had Lilacbreeze birthed only the two kits, or was there another already buried in the moors somewhere? Had it been born dead, or had it struggled briefly for life before surrendering to StarClan? She dared not ask. Lilacbreeze had always been kind to her.

"Thank you for letting us see them," Valiantpaw told her, before guiding Twilightpaw out of the den with her tail. As soon as they were a distance, he said, "I hope I get Falconkit. He seems to be the strongest."
Twilightpaw shot him a dirty look. "They aren't even a day old yet. How can you possibly made such a judgment?"
"I just can," he said, with a twinkle in his eye that reassured her he was teasing.
"It couldn't possibly be you're just saying that because he's a tom…"
"Great StarClan, never!"
"Good. Because I don't want to have to grind you into dust in this heat." Smiling, she went to find Longshadow, as the afternoon wore on.