The training was coming along more smoothly than Declan could have ever imagined. Every dawn that passed, the cats of the Sliders and Flare's group grew more and more prepared, quicker on their feet, swifter to dodge, their blows harder and more precise. It was almost impossible to think that these were the same younglings that had hidden in a cave for protection not half a moon cycle ago.

Declan perched on top of the rock in the center of the new training cave. It gave him a good vantage of all three groups of cats. Twist's group worked on stalking and dodging. Streak and Marco, who had taken over momentarily for Declan, taught bracing methods, how to catch strikes and turn the momentum against the striker. Lightfoot's group was straight-out strength training. Declan saw her go up against Jade and slam her forepaws against the smaller she-cat's over and over again, shoving her back until the wall was at her back.

"Adapt!" Lightfoot cried, ramming Jade back once more. Jade's legs were quivering but she held strong. Her paws dug out tracks in the dirt as Lightfoot drove her back. "Do something! Push me off! Push me back! Adapt!"

Jade's teeth gritted. With a snarl, she shoved upwards, breaking Lightfoot's guard. For the first time in Declan's life, he saw Lightfoot's stance weaken. Jade kept going, alternating paws, jabbing and clawing and slashing, until she whirled around and kicked Lightfoot with her hind legs.

Lightfoot skidded back a tail-length, but kept her paws. Her eyes were wild, her fur riled up along her spine. "Excellent," she practically purred. She strode closer and ruffled Jade's brown fur with her paw. "I didn't think you had it in you, scrap. I'm impressed against my will."

Jade looked inordinately pleased: Lightfoot's praise didn't come cheap. "Thank you."

"All right, who's next?" Lightfoot eyed a big gray tom. "Cinder, step up. Let's see your footwork."

Declan liked the look of seriousness in the tom's face. He prowled forward to take his place, and Declan looked away.

Every day brought them closer to a fighting force. But Declan understood that each one of those days was a lucky blessing. Any moment, Blackjack and the Watchers could find them. Any moment, he could come barreling in through the entrance to this cave and lay waste to its occupants. Nobody left the cave except to get food, and Flare had even started sending patrols deeper into the caverns to look for rock rats and bats to eat, to try and keep as many cats hidden as possible.

She didn't seem to notice the problem until Declan brought it up. "It's meat, like any other. What's the difference between a rat out here and a rat out there?"

"Rats on the mountain feed on fresh foods," Declan explained patiently. It hadn't escaped him that Flare was very young, hardly older than Streak. She hadn't lost her spots yet being a leader. "Rats in the mountain feed on dead things. It gives them sicknesses. Bats are too dangerous to even try eating, unless you want us all to get rabies."

"Rabies," Flare scoffed. "From being bitten. The hunters are better than that."

"If a wolf can get rabies, so can a cat." Declan hadn't forgotten Lightfoot's description of the brute. It haunted him that the wolf could have bitten her or Hazel.

Flare shrugged. "If you have a better idea, let's here it."

He'd been waiting for that. "Hunting patrols in the afternoon only. The Watchers are housecats. They sleep during most of the afternoon."

Flare's eyes narrowed. "Housecats don't all sleep during the afternoon, you know. They're trying to put us under siege. They're looking for us, tirelessly. Take my word. We will continue to go out at dawn and dusk. I have cats to feed."

Declan bent his head. "Respectfully, Flare, that's an assumption. You think that the Watchers are like you, that they're on irregular schedules. They're not. Hunts during the afternoon would be our safest bet, especially if we keep to the riverside of the mountain."

"Then we'll run into Clan cats."

"You said they don't venture this close to the mountain unless it's a half moon." Something about seeking answers from a tunnel that had an odd smell and an odd glow. Flare had sent cats into it to discover what the Clan cats were doing in there and found nothing but a rock that looked made of cloudy glass.

She flicked her tail dismissively. "I've seen them other times. We should post a sentry to make sure they don't encroach our territory."

"That would be like a beacon for the Watchers."

"What would you have me do, Declan?" Flare snapped. Her eyes were narrowed with dislike. "We have to eat. I can't bring the prey in with my charming personality. It has to be hunted. It has to be killed. In your world, perhaps we could sustain ourselves on light and air, but in the real world, we need fresh meat and blood."

You'll have your fair share of blood if you keep being so careless, Declan thought, but he just bent his head and excused himself. Flare was the leader here. Not him.

That night, as they all settled down for sleep, Declan sought Stripes' opinion.

Stripes' eyes darkened as Declan spoke. When the story was done, he said, "This stripling will get us all killed with her misguidance. What do her counselors say?"

Declan shook his head. "Jack has never seen combat. Whirlaway was a stray cat they took in from the ridge. He knows nothing of secrecy." He folded his head into his paws and sighed. "I thought we'd find allies here but all we have are extra worries."

Stripes made a low noise in the back of his throat. "She is wrong on most parts. There are no Clan cats in these territories anymore. They long made the trip to north of the valley. Below us is empty territory full of those pink up-walkers and their shiny creatures. They created paths for their things to crawl upon and abandoned the rest to weeds."

"Really?" Declan blinked. "Flare didn't say anything about that. How do you know?"

"I used to be the master of this land. I know everything about it." He twisted his mouth wryly. "And now here I am on the opposite side. If I had known that these cats were hiding beneath the stones, I would have led my gang here to chase them out."

"That might not be the wisest action now," Declan noted, joking.

Stripes laughed. He had a laugh like Twist, low and singular. He sobered for a moment, a clinical look coming into his yellow eyes. "You're a good leader, Declan. I didn't want you to be, but you are."

Declan put his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Stripes looked him straight in the eye. Matter-of-factly, he said, "I wanted Twist to be miserable when she left the gang. But she found you instead. You're reliable. You've got a good head on your shoulders."

Declan was so surprised that he had to laugh. All mountain cats were the same: no deception, no lying. Just straightforward, brutal honesty. "Don't let the outside fool you," he said, tapping his temple with a paw. "Inside it's all mush."

"I'm serious." Stripes certainly looked it. His eyes weren't narrowed like they generally were. He seemed thoughtful. "You're a leader. A good one. Better than I was. Your cats respect you." He looked to the side, his ears falling back a bit. "I always was taught that a leader should be feared. That it made you strong to be at the top of the chain. But you're different. They don't fear you. It's not a motivation for them. Strange."

"Did Braiser teach you that?"

At the mention of the name, Stripes tensed. His hair went up along his back. "Yes," he growled. "I respected him. At least, I thought I did. He led us to greatness. We were never hungry beneath him." He frowned. "But we weren't happy either. We weren't real. We were all just shadows. I didn't feel real until they were all dead. Braiser, Hazard, all of them."

"Do you feel real now? Does this make you feel real?" Declan waved a paw towards the sleeping cats, young and old, strong and weak, working towards a goal together, striving and struggling and living.

Stripes followed the gesture. He lingered on Twist. "Yes," he said simply.

Declan excused himself. He'd learned everything he could.

Twist woke up a little when he dropped next to her. She reached out with her forepaws for him, wrapping him close. Her breath hit his cheek, her whiskers poked his chest. "You're late," she said.

"I'm sorry."

"Where were you?"

"Talking this out with Stripes. He's familiar with the territory. He tells me the Clans have moved on."

The word sparked something in Twist. She stiffened.

He drew back. "What is it?"

She was uneasy. The sleepy pliability of her was gone, replaced by sharp, straight lines. "The Clans frighten me."

Declan rubbed her back. "They're far from here. They can't hurt you."

He remembered her stories of them, of her kithood. When a golden tom the size of Viktor had jumped her, bloodied her, with nothing in his eyes but killing-lust.

"I know that," she said testily. "I have other fears now."

"Hazel."

She nodded. "She's progressing," she whispered. "It scares me."

Declan's ears flicked in surprise. "She's learning how to defend herself."

"It's different, Declan. The others, they endure it. Hazel… She enjoys it. Too much. She drew blood today on Kaltag and you should have seen her face. She loves this. War." The word was barely a breath. "It's like she was born for it. It reminds me of my father."

Declan sucked in a breath. "Hazel is nothing like Braiser," he said in a rush, a shiver in his chest. As if sweet, innocent Hazel could be anything like that monster.

She twisted in his forepaws, uncomfortable now. "I lived with him. I know the look. Bloodlust." She closed her eyes. "I didn't think I'd ever see it on her face."

Declan didn't know what to say. He ran his paw up her back, her fur soft against his pads. "We'll watch her," he said cautiously. "We'll break her of it."

"It's not like that. Look at Lightfoot. She's in control of hers. Hazel can't wait to get back in the ring for another spar. She puts out her claws during the fight."

That was against the rules. Any cat who drew blood was given to Marco for running exercises until they dropped. It was punishment and training.

"Then Marco can have her tomorrow," Declan said. "But I want to see her first. Orchestrate it. Put her in with someone better than her—not Streak, but maybe Adder or Violet. I want to see her."

He could hold off judgment until then. He wouldn't make the call unless it was necessary.

He knew he was being foolish but he couldn't help it. Hazel was his daughter. His little star. He couldn't imagine her being brutal.

XXX

Training commenced early in the morning, before the sun was even up to warm the snow. Twist kept training flowing easily. The morning held the standard three-part training until mealtime at midday, then came the sparring.

Declan watched Hazel closely through each ring of training. She was side-by-side with Petey and Cascade for most of the day, laughing through the exercises, working hard in strength with Lightfoot, keeping pace with Streak's bracing, even dodging every one of Ren's swings in Twist's dodging classes.

She showed no sign of aggression, outward or not. Declan kept a close eye on her from his perch on the rock. Even when she misstepped and Lightfoot send her sprawling to the dusty ground, she kept composure.

Twist's eyes met his many times over the day. See? she appeared to say. Watch her.

Declan nodded curtly and kept watch. He didn't want to think the kit he raised had turned sour somehow. He didn't want to think of her enjoying this. The other cats looked like they were having fun playing war, but it hadn't started yet. When it did, he expected to find them fearful.

He just didn't want to find Hazel relishing in it.

Whirlaway joined him just before sparring. "Flare is concerned that you're taking too many hunters for this training," he said. He had an easy, calm voice. It was no wonder he spoke for Flare.

Declan blinked. "Each cat has a shift. The hunters bring in enough prey before training begins and then after, as Flare requested."

Whirlaway gave him a peculiar look. "It's not a request. Flare gives orders."

"I misspoke," Declan said smoothly. I have to watch my step. Every word sets these cats into a frenzy.

Whirlaway didn't comment further. He turned his eyes on the training. "What are you goals for this? You want to turn us into fighters for what cause?"

"To dissolve the Watchers."

"You mean to kill them."

Declan winced. "If it comes to that."

"It will," Whirlaway replied, without an ounce of hesitation. "They've taken out our cats before. They'll do it again. Especially ones like me."

Declan looked between his marked eyes, yellow and green. Like Hazel's. "Did they take your family?"

"Yes," he replied, just as easily as before. Without a shift in tone or expression, he added, "They killed my sisters right in front of me, to try and smoke me out. My mother had hidden me in the forest. She'd told me to stay hidden, so I did. Even after they stopped moving."

Declan felt his stomach tighten. "I'm sorry."

Whirlaway shrugged. "I was younger then. I didn't understand sacrifice."

"And now?"

He gave Declan a wry look. "I live in a cave under a mountain. I eat skinny rats. I command a group of kittens. I know a thing or two about sacrifice."

Sacrificing your family is a sacrifice, Declan thought as the cats grouped together below to begin sparring. Eating rats and being cold is no true sacrifice.

Whirlaway was just so young. All of Flare's cats were. The seasoned fighters like Sparrow were few and entirely too far between.

Twist stopped in the center of the open space. She turned her head. "Lightfoot? Do you want to start this one?"

Lightfoot was lounging on her side. She looked out of breath. Laughing dryly once, she said, "I'll let you take this one. I'll just watch."

It occurred to Declan then that Lightfoot and Twist had never really gotten along. They weren't friends. But now looking at them, joking with each other, perhaps that had begun to change.

"I'll go first," Adder said. He curled his tail up over his back. "Please, Twist."

"All right." There was a glint in Twist's eye now. Declan recognized it. Anticipation. "Cascade, you can spar with him."

Declan knew what she was doing. It couldn't be too obvious, her intentions. It had to be slyer than that. She'd let a few rounds go by and then she would throw Hazel into the mix.

Cascade looked resentful as she padded into the circle. She'd been wary in practice, slow to react. Putting her up against a sharp young thing like Adder wasn't meant for practice—it was to embarrass her.

Declan didn't like it. But he didn't have to like everything Twist thought was a good idea. He just had to support her and hope she had good intentions.

Adder was in a crouch before Cascade even finished walking up. He sank lower as Twist said, "Ready."

"Good luck," he said to Cascade.

The silvery she-cat said nothing. Her eyes narrowed.

"Begin."

Adder struck quick as his namesake. He aimed low, one paw braced hard against the ground.

Cascade leapt back silkily, balancing on her hind legs, forepaws splayed for attack.

Adder called her bluff. Ducking his head, he barreled into her stomach. Cascade hissed, wrapping her paws around his neck, sinking her teeth into his scruff, but Adder was relentless. He'd grown strong during his time in the mountains. He outweighed her twofold. Where his brother and sister were sleek and lithe, more like Kite, Adder was all Viktor: thick muscles, barrel chest, and strong legs. He shoved her off like she was nothing, sending her tumbling into the dust.

Cascade coughed as it filtered into her lungs. She looked up with puffy eyes as Adder stepped up, his pads soundless on the ground. "I forfeit," she ground out, her voice raspy.

"You have to keep going," Twist urged. "Push yourself. You always stop too soon."

"I forfeit!" Cascade got to her paws and shook the dust off her coat. "Do I have to say it again? I'm not a fighter. I'm a mother."

Twist shook her head. "You have to be both. You don't have the luxury of just standing idly by anymore. You have to fight to stay alive."

"I've managed to stay alive my whole life without fighting," Cascade snapped. "I don't intend to start now."

Uh-oh. Declan slid off the rock to intervene, but Twist had already torn at her again.

"So I suppose you'd like to stay in the cave with the kittens when Blackjack gets here. You want us all to protect you because you're too delicate to get your claws bloody?"

"Don't presume to know me, Twist. I've been through more than you ever—"

"Oh, don't start that rubbish again." Twist bared her teeth. "I'm getting sick of hearing you say how hard it is. 'My poor fur is no good for this cold.' 'My eyes hurt from all this sun.' 'I'm limping from stepping on all these stones.' Guess what? We're all going through the exact same thing. And all of us have managed to step up except you. How much longer are you going to keep up this wounded campaign? Aren't you tired of it yet? I'm certainly tired of you."

"Then leave," Cascade said. "I don't want you here. You're only here because your mate is our de facto leader. Hazel's real mother is here now. What purpose are you serving? Other than trying to boss everybody around. It must be hard to teach us fighting when you're a subpar fighter yourself."

"Talk about throwing stones in a glass home," Lightfoot muttered to Iggy.

"Come on," Declan said, pushing them apart. It took effort. They were circling each other like hawks. "We have others to fight. We don't need to start this war early."

Cascade pushed against him. Streak came out of the circle to hold her back, shoving her away with his shoulder. "Go on and defend her!" she sneered. "Just remember, we all have a reason to be here. What's yours?"

Twist struggled in Declan's grip. "Keeping you alive, you self-centered idiot!" she shouted. "Since I guess you're too stupid to figure that out yourself!"

Cascade snarled and Twist growled back, and it got very out of hand.

Declan caught Lightfoot's eye. "Practice is over," he said.

She took the hint. Getting to her paws with a grunt, she yowled, "Come on, break it up. Get back to work. Or if you'd like to lie around and just be mothers instead of fighters, kindly see yourself out. The cold-season storm will thoughtfully remind you of your mistaken mentality."

Twist didn't stop fighting, even when they were out of view halfway down a tunnel. "Let me go," she hissed. "I'll claw her ears off!"

"That's not exactly what we're looking for." Declan let her go. She shook out her pelt with a look of disgust on her face, still glowering towards Cascade. "Honestly, Twist, what were you thinking? You think it's a good idea to antagonize her?"

"She's antagonizing me."

"You're above that. Think about Cascade. She's never had to fight before. Her sons were stolen from her and turned into Claw guards and then they died."

Twist stopped struggling at once. "I didn't know they died."

Declan sighed through his nose. Headstrong. Impulsive. Twist had more in common with Hazel than she thought. "Because you never talked to her before. I did, right after the last time she challenged me. Two sons, Heron and Slide, after the Sliders. She never forgot, even in the Claws' camps." He dipped his head to meet Twist's eyes. "She's hurt. And she's scared. Of course she's going to lash out at anybody who comes near her. You would, too."

Twist didn't say, "I wouldn't," even though he half-expected her to. Instead she relaxed, blowing out her breath with a long sigh. "I should apologize."

"I'm not going to tell you what to do."

"Yeah right," she said, rolling her eyes. She flicked his chin with her tail tip. "You do all the time."

But she walked away all the same, back towards Cascade. It was only when the group was breaking up that Declan realized he'd forgotten to watch Hazel fight.

XXX

Declan knew immediately that they'd been found as soon as he opened his eyes to the screaming.

It was madness in the Sliders' corner. Adder, always trying, had launched himself to his feet too fast. He was stumbling around with his hair up and his claws out. Streak steadied him with a shoulder, already calling for Hazel. Petey was up and ready, Kaltag a shivering shadow.

Twist was running towards the sound. Declan pushed himself to his paws and followed.

Flare's sentry Primary was on the ground. Her gray fur was torn. Blood patched her coat. Bran was crouched beside her, coaxing in a low voice, but her breathing was too fast. It rose in pitch, horrible gasping chokes, before stopping abruptly.

Declan felt invisible claws clench around his insides.

Flare appeared from her den with Blue-Eyed Jack. Her yellow eyes were wide. "What's happened?"

"What's happened?" Marco, in his shock, had forgotten his place. "An attack, that's what. And she probably brought them straight back to us. If she didn't, her blood trail did. We have minutes."

He was right. Declan's tongue felt dry with shock. "The plan," he said. He coughed to clear his throat. "We have to enact the plan. Flare, ready your cats. Get everybody up."

It was moot. Everybody was already up. From the darkness—it was still night, barely past midnight—came heads and perked ears, silver whiskers shining with moonlight, eyes glowing in the blackness of the cave.

"They've found us?" Flare looked shocked. Her mouth was hanging open.

Declan paced, short paths that doubled back on themselves. His mind was alive with panic and fear. "The captains will move their groups to the selected locations," he said, his voice a low tumble of words. A calm he did not feel. "Whirlaway, Sparrow, Adder, Jack, Streak. Go ahead and gather your groups. Cascade, you round up yours—queens, kits, elderly. Don't forget Granite and Stripes."

"I will fight, Declan." Stripes prowled forward, but even from here, Declan could see the still-healing gleam of his scar.

Declan shook his head. "You'll go with Cascade. And if it comes to it, I expect you to protect these cats."

Stripes dipped his head. His fangs were overhanging his lips. "Understood."

Declan turned his head. "Flare, your orders."

Flare was still standing there, rigid with shock. Her tail was fluffed out to twice its size.

Declan's heart seized up. "Flare," he said, more sharply this time. "We have to move."

Blue-Eyed Jack looked up at her leader uncertainly. Whirlaway and Jade were waiting, anticipating. Even little North looked crestfallen.

"I…" Flare started, but nothing followed.

Twist was at his side at once. "Declan."

He knew. She didn't even have to say it. This was the moment he'd been dreading for all the stiff, stilted days in this cave.

He stepped forward. Every cat looked to him. Not challenging, not dismissive. Open. Watchful. Rapt.

"The captains will move to their positions. Whirlaway, you're in charge of the fighters. Blue-Eyed Jack, you stay with Flare. Bran, you're going with Cascade. Everybody else, with me."

He stared them down. They stared him down. Neither broke. Hopefully, neither would.

One voice rose out. Horizon. The little golden one. She bent her head, looking small. A child. "I'm afraid."

Declan waited for Lightfoot to speak up. This was always her moment. But she was either not present—for reasons Declan didn't understand—or unusually silent. It was up to him.

"We're all afraid," he said softly. He bent his head to hers, trying to keep his expression calm despite his rising terror. "We're all fighting for our lives here. But it's come to this. Because of the Watchers. Because of Blackjack. Some of us will go out onto this mountain and we won't come back."

A few eyes drifted to Primary, now still beside Bran.

"But we have to go." Declan stepped back and started down the line. They watched him, attentive and rising like birds. Caught in the wake of his words. "We have to fight now. We fight or we die. That's what he's made us. Blackjack has torn down every peace we've ever made in the name of his hatred. Well, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling afraid for the cats I love. I'm sick of feeling powerless. And I'm not going to take it anymore."

He stopped by Twist. She was staring at him with such bright shining pride in her eyes that he felt it chase away every shadow in him.

He took a breath. "I'm going to fight. I'm going to fight so I don't have to fight ever again. I'm going to fight so no cat I love will end up dead in the snow. And it's the most selfish thing I'll ever do in my life, but I'm going to ask you to fight with me. I'm sorry. But we have to. So that we can finally put an end to this."

Declan paused. He was breathing hard, like the words had taken something from him. Maybe they had. He certainly didn't feel any lighter.

He looked at Hazel, sitting so close to Streak their pelts were touching. She was watching him with something new in her beautiful eyes, the eyes that had doomed her to this.

It was for her. It wasn't for himself, Declan knew. It was all to keep her safe. The cat he loved as dearly as if she were his own blood.

"So let's go," he said. "We fight or we die. Let's fight."