Falconheart caught Frozenheart after his patrol had finished, looked him in the eye, and said solemnly,

"They're coming soon, you know."

"Yeah," Frozenheart muttered, "Yeah, I know."

"What do you think? Are you gonna fight?"

"It's the only choice, isn't it?" He looked up, pain reflecting in his icy eyes. "I don't want to fight her either," he went on bitterly, "Because much as I hate her, we share blood. And blood'll be spilled. Lots, or she won't be pleased. One of us has to die. She won't go unless she's killed or we are."

Falconheart grunted in reply. "I'm not going down without a fight. She possesses no more skill than I do."

"True," he commented slowly.

"Let's just protect the Clan. That's all we can do for now, anyway."

(***************)

Frozenheart took Snowpaw to the small wooded area of RiverClan, to a spongy moss patch under a willowed knoll.

Snowpaw's usually hot-and-cold charisma was different today. She seemed distant, distracted, blundering when he spoke, and unfocused in training.

After the fifth time she had jumped when he spoke, he snapped at her. "What is wrong with you?"

She flicked an ear. "Huh?"

"You're on end. Why?"

"I'm nervous, I suppose," she muttered reluctantly, her whiskers twitching with nerves. "I'm no fighter."

Frozenheart felt slightly inclined to agree with her, but feeling this wouldn't be appropriate, he encouraged her. "You're not bad. Try me."

She backed away slightly, her eyes indecisive. Then, quick as a snake striking, she fell on top of him. He, surprised, was knocked down, but he scrambled back up easily.

"This is no good," he decided. "I'll test you against Lynxpaw. He's more suited to your size."

After they had gotten the mottled tom out of his nest—"But I'm tired!"—he crouched, albeit nonchalantly, in front of her.

They tussled in a white, black, and brown ball of spitting fur. Then they slowed, Snowpaw on top, her paws planted on Lynxpaw's shoulders.

"Owowowow! Lemme go!" he wailed.

Snowpaw grinned slightly and stepped off. Lynxpaw got up, shaking his dusty pelt. "That hurt," he whined.

"Oh, please!" she meowed, rolling her eyes. "You're a fluffball. That couldn't hurt." Her eyes grew serious. "And you need to be ready. There'll be more than that when they come."

He slid out his claws. "Go on, I'll beat you this time."

They launched themselves at each other again, and they were fiercer now, and it lasted until Lynxpaw came out on top by sheer strength. He overpowered her frailer frame easily.

"Ha—I told you!"

"Yeah, yeah, hurrah," she grumbled. "C'mon, get off."

"Well done, you both."

A voice sounded at the top of the hill. Falconheart bounded down, landing lightly on the soft moss. "We should have sparring sessions," he suggested thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

"It's a good idea."

"I'll go ask Lightstar."

(***************)

So, a few hours later, Falconheart found himself overseeing five cats: Thrushfeather, Treetail, Emberwhisker, Frozenheart, and Creamfrost.

He'd been reluctant to allow the heavily pregnant she cat to spar, but her argument was good: 'I'll still be fighting, for real, with the kits when she comes, so I need practice."

Falconheart faced off with Emberwhisker. The grey tom was looking much older, with visible lines around his eyes and shadows in their depths.

"Go on, then."

Falconheart circled, looking for a place that was weak, but the tom was guarding all the places: his belly, ears, and tail—they were all guarded by teeth and claws.

Emberwhisker went for the offense, diving at Falconheart with flying paws. He skidded backward quickly, just narrowly avoiding the snapping teeth.

Falconheart rolled under Emberwhisker's belly and pummeled it with sheathed paws. The tom reeled back.

They sparred like this for a few moments until Falconheart came out on top, holding down a wriggling Emberwhisker.

"Fine, you win!" the grey tom yowled.

Falconheart stepped off, allowing his former mentor to scrabble up.

Suddenly, a threatening yowl rose from the edge of the clearing. All the cats were circled around something, their hackles raised and ears flat.

Falconheart pushed through them, and saw a bright ginger and white she cat standing in the center of them. Her eyes were cold and contemptuous, and her tail was slowly flicking side to side. He was struck with an immediate feeling of distrust.

"Who are you?" He growled, sliding out his claws, signaling to his Clan to hold their fight.

"Nobody in particular," she purred. "May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"Cut the niceties out and answer me, she cat."

Her eyes widened a fraction at his bluntness, and her voice became slightly more edged and frigid. "I'm Cin," she said, "That's my name—or as you Clanners would call me, a 'rogue', though I despise labels."

"What are you doing in Clan territory?"

"I wish to speak to your leader," she responded coolly. "I have information, valuable at that, on someone I believe is striking you cats soon. She calls herself Night…"

Falconheart gaped at her for a few moments, and then recomposed himself quickly. "Oh, really? What does this cat look like?"

Cin smirked. "She's transparent, for one. Smoky. Black, sleek pelt, I'm sure you're aware. Brown paws and belly. Does that ring a bell?" She thought for a bit and added, "Amber eyes, too. Bright ones."

That fits the bill, he thought, shocked, but how does she know…?

"Er—yes, it does. Hmm… come with me. Don't try anything funny, rogue."

She chuckled. "Of course not."

(**********)

Cin hummed happily to herself, aware of hostile eyes resting on her. It didn't matter, really; her plan was going smoothly.

And if it was working, she could reap all the rewards she'd sown.

Their leader was a sickly looking, marbled cream and brown she cat. Even if she wasn't very strong looking, her eyes were shrewd and wise, and they rested on Cin, their depths unreadable.

Cin waited patiently as she and the brown tom exchanged a few words, glancing over at her every few seconds. Finally, the brown tom nodded curtly and stepped behind the marbled she cat, his golden eyes resting on her calmly.

"So," she meowed, "My deputy tells me you have news on Nightfire, some news that could be an asset. How did you come by this 'news'?"

Cin's eyes widened a fraction in alarm. She had not been expecting that question. How could she dodge the bullet and not say she'd been a spy?

"I prefer to keep it to my own terms," she said coolly, hoping her voice didn't betray her. "I—"

"Need to know how you know about it, or else you can go." The leader replied firmly.

Cin swore under her breath. The leader was still watching, her sky blue eyes clever. She was measuring her.

"I was spying for her," she said very reluctantly, after her mind had, for the first time, failed to produce a believable lie.

She could feel the eyes grow more hostile, and the scratch of claws sliding out was heard.

The leader's eyes had flashed dangerously at those words, but she kept her voice toneless. "And?"

"I think she may be attacking in ten day's time, to gather forces," she said truthfully. "She has ten cats; I overheard her."

"Hmmm…" The leader muttered thoughtfully. "That is very helpful; thank you. Is that all?"

"Yes," she meowed icily.

"Falconheart," the leader said, turning back to her deputy, "Take Emberwhisker and escort her out of the territory."

She turned back to Cin, her eyes scrutinizing the she cat with concern. "If we find you again, we'll treat you as we would any enemy. Go now."

And she was marched away from their camp, a grin curling her muzzle as it all fell into place.

Frozenheart padded into camp, dropped two fish onto the fresh kill pile, and picked up a chaffinch for himself. He'd never really adjusted to the taste of fish, no matter how much he tried.

He sat down, swiped off most of the feathers with his claws, and ate it quickly.

He finished, licking his whiskers, and then stretched, his back arching. Bored, he looked around, his eyes snagging on Snowpaw.

She was all by herself, her grey eyes glimmering and her expression looking thoroughly miserable. She sighed quietly, blinked sadly, and turned to vanish into her den.

He padded after her quietly, placing his paws as so they would not disturb her. He poked his head into the apprentices' den, where she had her back to the entrance.

He heard a quiet sob escape her, and he watched for a few moments, pondering what to say.

What could he say to this she-cat who he didn't deserve, and could never deserve in a thousand lifetimes?