A silver she-cat was sitting by the willows, biting a small minnow, what presumably she had caught.

She pretended to not notice a small silver tom staring at her, his eyes narrowed. The tom looked just like her. His silver pelt reflected hers, but she'd never properly seen him in the eye since the fire.

Mistshade knew Fernshine liked Reedpaw. Her mother would one day confront her. But not today.

The gray she-cat was approaching Reedpaw kindly. Mistshade didn't care. Fernshine could be trusted, anyway.

"Come," she heard Fernshine mew softly.

Then she came. The gray she-cat padded towards them.

No!

Slatefoot was a danger to them all. Her fur bristled at the thought of her.

"Fernshine, you know she's watching."

"But I don't care," the elder replied stubbornly, her green eyes shining with the look of stubbornness.

"I do," Mistshade wanted to say. But she didn't.

And she let Reedpaw be polluted, looking away, and never looking back.

Reedpaw glanced at Fernshine and Slatefoot. They looked rather similar, but Reedpaw couldn't place a paw on why. Were they family, maybe? Slatefoot's mother or father could be Fernshine's littermate.

"Fernshine," Slatefoot mewed. "Do you think it's wise for Silverstar to declare an open challenge to the Clans?"

"We would've looked weak if she didn't," Fernshine replied sternly. "I believe Silverstar had made the wisest decision."

Slatefoot sighed. "But I saw Maplestar," she meowed, looking frustrated. "She was standing in the shadows, her amber eyes glittering with venom. I know she'll use this to her advantage."

"That ShadowClan leader is old and weak. She can't do anything."

"But most likely her successor will continue," snapped Slatefoot, her eyes rounding. "Ivyheart probably will."

Fernshine sighed. "I hope she will not. She's a smart, young she-cat, and I wouldn't put it pass her to poison us."

"Surely she won't!"

"Maybe she will," Fernshine replied tartly. "She once outsmarted a fox, you know. If one can outsmart a fox, you can believe she's more sly than a fox."

"Er, of course."

Fernshine rolled her eyes. "Do you remember when Mistshade and you were kits? You used to debate whether Tawnyclaw would be a good warrior or not."

Slatefoot winced, her gaze landing on Reedpaw for a split second. "Yes," she meowed. "I remember that. And, maybe now, you should go back?"

Fernshine narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I shall," she snapped.

"What did she mean?" Reedpaw asked.

Slatefoot stared at him. "What does what mean?" she asked slowly.

Reedpaw had a feeling that Slatefoot knew what Reedpaw meant; she just didn't want to talk about it.

Should he push her, and find out things that were hidden deep within her heart? Something she never wished to revive again?

But Reedpaw wanted to desperately to know.

"What are you hiding?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Slatefoot shook her head pointedly. "Nothing."

"Yes, you are!"

Sighing the gray she-cat faced Reedpaw. "If I tell you," she breathed, "you must promise never, never ever to tell your mother."

"I... Why not?"

"She'd be angry. This is a memory."

"Well, can I tell Fernshine?"

"Just not Tawnyclaw or Mistshade."

"All right," mewed Reedpaw doubtfully. "What is it?"

Slatefoot took a deep breath, trembling. "You know Sparrowpaw and Sunpaw. Right?"

"Yes, I do. They're brilliant apprentices."

"But... But there were two more kits in the litter."

Reedpaw's ears perked up. "Really?"

"Squirrelkit and Sagekit," whispered Slatefoot. Her breathing was getting fast. "They were wonderful little creatures."

"And?" Somehow, Reedpaw didn't want to hear more. This story was going to be a dreadful ending, he knew.

"Squirrelkit was lovely. She would always prance and yowl. Sagekit liked mysteries and adventures. Sunkit liked lying in the sun and resting. Sparrowkit liked to be brave, and to act brave, to... flaunt." Slatefoot shivered. "One day, when they were so little, Sagekit decided to sneak out and swim in the stream. She'd heard of stories of the amazing stream.

"Squirrelkit was afraid of the consequences, though she was tempted by the adventure itself. Sunkit didn't like it. They didn't wake up Sparrowkit.

"Eventually, Squirrelkit and Sagekit set off together, leaving Sunkit to wander in camp, anxiously staring at where they stood moments ago.

"Sunkit was afraid for her sisters, and decided to find them. And she, she went missing as well."

"Sunpaw got lost?" Reedpaw asked.

"Yes. One of our elders, Applestream, had seen Sunkit. She realized Sunkit was wandering outside camp. She was very old; her sense weren't that clear. But anyway, she informed Mistshade and Tawnyclaw.

"There was a search party, and I was in it. My party found Squirrelkit shivering in a mud pool. We found Sunkit, wandering around ferns. Thankfully, they weren't dead.

"But Sagekit! Oh, the poor kit had drowned. She'd gone to the furthest stream, and we didn't think she would've gone there. We wasted all our time looking at the nearby streams."

Slatefoot's voice thickened with grief.

"Squirrelkit died shortly after."

Slatefoot's voice broke, and Reedpaw stared at his paws. Poor Squirrelkit and Sagekit! They were just adventurous; they didn't deserve to die.

His heart tugged with grief and sympathy.

"Sunkit," continued Slatefoot, her voice quivering, "took full blame. She thought she should've told Mistshade. Sunkit wanted to name Squirrelkit and Sagekit. She called them Squirrelpaw and Sagepaw on her apprentice ceremony day, I heard it. Although I was never again allowed close to them again, I knew it, and I heard it. I'm sure she'll name Squirrelkit and Sagekit when she gets her name."

Reedpaw hesitated. "But," he began slowly, "what does this have to do with you?"

Slatefoot raised her head. Her eyes met Reedpaw's, and she whispered softly, "Reedpaw, Mistshade is my sister."

Sparrowpaw twitched his tail impatiently. "So, Sunpaw," he snapped. "Today is my ceremony?"

Sunpaw's dark amber eyes darkened. "Congratulations," she hissed. "Is this what you want?"

Reedpaw could imagine Sunpaw thinking about Squirrelkit and Sagekit.

"Yes!" Sparrowpaw boasted. "I'm so good, I'm apprenticed moons before!"

"No," corrected Sunpaw, her eyes darkening even more, "you're just being apprenticed at the right time. You're just not waiting for me."

Sparrowpaw shrugged. "Sorry," he meowed.

"Sparrowpaw," called Cloudstream. "It's time for you to come."

Sparrowpaw didn't glance at his sister again as he proudly trotted next to his mentor.

Sunpaw crouched on the grass, her fur bristling.

"I'm sorry," murmured Reedpaw.

Ever since Slatefoot's story, Reedpaw had found it easier to sympathize with Sunpaw. Even though Sunpaw would always hiss at him, Reedpaw wanted to get to know her better.

"For what?" snapped Sunpaw.

"Sparrowpaw getting his name first."

"I suppose so," Sunpaw replied haughtily.

Reedpaw nodded. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nothing."

Sunpaw glanced at Reedpaw's left. "I see your friend is getting her name, too," she mewed.

"Rosepaw?" Reedpaw turned to see Rosepaw staring at Sparrowpaw.

"We're getting our names! Together!" she whispered.

"Amazing."

Shatteredclaw glanced at them. "Get a move on, Rosepaw."

Rosepaw nodded. "Sure!"

Reedpaw glanced around. Creampaw and Honeypaw were huddled up together, gazing at Sparrowpaw and Rosepaw. Stormsky and Acornsquirrel were watching them good-humoredly.

He spotted a white cat sitting in a dark corner, with Slatefoot next to her.

"Concentrate!" hissed Sunpaw. Her eyes were fixed on her brother.

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I name you Sparrowheart." Silverstar gazed at the newly named warrior.

"Rosepaw, do you..."

"Sparrowheart!" Sunpaw was muttering furiously beside Reedpaw. She was whispering so loudly and furiously that Reedpaw could hardly concentrate. "Dumb, dumb name! I doubt Silverstar would've named me Sunheart!" A low growl rose deep within her throat. "Sparrowheart! It's preposterous!"

"I think it rather suits him," mewed Reedpaw frankly.

Sunpaw snorted.

"Sparrowheart! Roseleap! Sparrowheart! Roseleap!"

Reedpaw quickly caught on. "Sparrowheart! Roseleap!"

Roseleap leaped down to greet Reedpaw. "Oh, Reedpaw!" she exclaimed. "This is brilliant, right?"

Whitepetal padded towards her, her eyes warm. "Minnownose would be proud of you."

A thought flashed in Reedpaw's mind. "Wait! You said Minnownose died after you were born, Whitepetal. But Roseleap's younger than you, and she's your sister. What's that?"

"She died two moons after," Whitepetal mewed. "Did I mess that up? I don't remember. Anyway, Roseleap's birth was the critical part of her death. She was already dying, but... We were relieved Roseleap survived."

Roseleap was quiet. "I'm always sad after that," she mewed finally.

"Oh, sorry."

"No, it's okay.

"Sunpaw!" exclaimed Sparrowheart, bounding towards them. His golden pelt was smooth and sleek, and his amber eyes were glowing.

Sunpaw and Sparrowheart looked alike, but Sunpaw looked dark, while Sparrowheart was shining.

"You look the opposite of your name!" he exclaimed.

"Well, you do, too. Sparrows are brown and white, not golden," Sunpaw spat.

Sparrowheart shrugged. "I don't mind," he meowed.

"He is like, so cool," swooned Roseleap.

"Ah, yes," mumbled Reedpaw, hardly daring to disagree with the dark ginger she-cat.

Roseleap leaped towards the golden warrior, her eyes shining. "I could make your nest for you in our new den!"

"No thank you. I can make my own." Sparrowheart nodded politely and padded away.

"He wasn't stiff and cold, though," offered Reedpaw hesitantly.

"No, he wasn't," agreed Sunpaw dryly. "Surprise."

Roseleap sighed. "I don't know. I think I'm going to sleep."

"Nuh-huh, sister," interrupted Whitepetal sternly. "You've got a patrol this afternoon."

"Eh. Wake me up."

"No, I won't."

"Aw, Whitepetal!" Roseleap whined.

"Sorry, Roseleap. But you're a warrior now."

"Hmph."

"I hate Sparrowpaw. I mean Sparrowheart," meowed Sunpaw decisively after Roseleap left.

"Why?"

"Because I hate him. He's so full of himself, Reedpaw. And I can't get why Silverstar made him a warrior before me." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm just as good as him!"

Reedpaw stayed silent as Sunpaw ranted on.

"I mean, really! He's my littermate, and there's no reason he'd be better!" fumed Sunpaw angrily. "I can't believe I'm stuck being an apprentice with you while he gets to be a great warrior! It'll be ages until I'll get out of this den!"

"That's mean."

"I don't care, Reedpaw."

"You should," Reedpaw mewed forcefully.

He didn't know where that came from. Normally, he'd just pass. But now? He was just lecturing Sunpaw on what was right.

Sunpaw turned her head. Her dark amber eyes were sparking interest. Slowly, she meowed, "You're not so boring after all. You've got some fire, Reedpaw." She dipped her head, her eyes never leaving Reedpaw's, but still. She dipped her head in a sign of respect.

Then she left.

"You've earned her respect," a voice mewed softly.

"Thanks, er... Slatefoot!"

Slatefoot nodded.

"You've been avoiding me. Why not now?"

"Because I can't keep on ignoring you forever. I chose to tell you it, and I must deal with the consequences. I can only hope you won't judge me for it."

"Why should I?" Defensiveness rose and bubbled in Reedpaw, and he blurted out, "It was not your fault Squirrelkit and Sagekit were dumb! It's their fault they died!"

"Don't say that. The reason I'm saying this is because... I didn't tell you at first. Because I was afraid. But please, promise me you won't."

Reedpaw blinked at her. "I will if you confess you murdered them," he mewed, trying to lift the heavy atmosphere.

"Seriously."

"I am, though."

"I didn't murder them. But I might as well did. Mistshade had left me in charge of her kits while she slept."