Hello, hello. It's been about. . .7 seven and half years since I've last updated this story. If any of the original readers/fans of this story are still around, I would just like to apologize for going MIA for so long and completely giving up on all of my stories. But, I'm back—more or less—and I'd really like to complete this story. I hope my writing is better this time around. Feel free to review at the end :)

Chapter Eleven

"Today we're going to do a border patrol," Buzzardstrike announced a few mornings later, after all the Initiates had stumbled out of their den. Silverpaw blinked the sleep from her eyes as Ivypaw shook out her rumpled pelt. Dawn had, unsurprisingly, not yet broken, and Silverpaw was exhausted.

It had been four days since her dream with Hailfeather, and she was still trying to figure out if she'd actually gone to StarClan, or if her mind was playing tricks on her. For as long as she could remember, Silverpaw had been taught that dead warrior ancestors roaming the skies was a myth to make cats feel better. She'd liked hearing the stories, initially. But eventually, she grew to find the idea of cats in the stars watching and judging her every move to be unsettling and a bit creepy. Yet here she was, fresh from a conversation with a dead cat in the sky. And that wasn't even to mention the supposed "destiny" she had to fulfill.

Hailfeather had told her that there used to be four Clans around the lake, which Silverpaw found difficult to believe. How could four Clans fall that easily? How could they have united into two, and have the past erased almost completely? Hailfeather said it was countless moons ago when they fell, Silverpaw thought, giving her body a quick stretch. I doubt there's any cat alive that remembers how it was. And who are the Lost Ones? She shook her head, unable to mentally handle the confusion the dream had caused. Maybe she'd ask Ivypaw about it later.

". . .already seen one part of the territory when you arrived at camp," Buzzardstrike was saying as she tuned back into the present. The BrokenClan deputy stood before them with Lizardclaw and Scorchfoot, his tabby pelt groomed to perfection. Silverpaw's claws unsheathed on their own accord. She couldn't look at the tom without visions of him beating Swiftpetal into submission flashing through her mind.

"Since you've already become acquainted with the northern border of our territory, today we will patrol the opposite side." Buzzardstrike paused for a moment, and then grudgingly added, "It's a long trek, so you may eat a piece of last night's prey before we leave. But make it quick." He turned to the two toms flanking him and beckoned them away with a flick of his long tail.

Silverpaw glanced at the meager fresh-kill pile and back at her denmates. Runningpaw had begun grooming himself, while Ivypaw and Nettlepaw started towards the pile. "C'mon Silverpaw," Ivypaw meowed quietly. "We don't want to upset that mean fur-ball before we even leave."

Silverpaw nodded and followed her friends. She found herself falling into step with Foxpaw, and her fur prickled from the uncomfortable silence that took up the space between them. They hadn't really spoken to each other since their fight a few days ago, and Silverpaw didn't know how to bridge the gap it had caused. But, she figured, now was as good a time as any to try.

"Foxpaw, I'm—"

"Silverpaw, I wanted to—"

The two Initates paused and looked at each other. Silverpaw's whiskers twitched, and faint amusement sparkled in Foxpaw's amber eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Foxpaw shook his head and flicked her fondly with his ginger tail. "I'm the one who owes you an apology," he meowed, lowering his gaze. "I shouldn't have assumed I was the only one grieved by the loss of my brother. It's just. . ." He met her eyes again, and the stark sorrow on his features sent an ache through Silverpaw's heart. "It's just incredibly hard not knowing where he is, or. . .or if he's even still alive."

Silverpaw was quiet as they approached the fresh-kill pile. Ivypaw and Nettlepaw were already sharing a vole, and she heard Runningpaw finally make his way over. The silver tabby Initate brushed her pelt comfortingly against Foxpaw's, blinking slowly at him. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like I did," she murmured. Like I always seem to do. "We all feel Smokepaw's loss, but I know that he's okay, wherever he is." She prayed he was, anyway. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if Smokepaw would be able to survive on his own at barely seven moons and hardly any hunting practice. She didn't think she'd be able to, if she was the one who'd been exiled.

Foxpaw touched her ear with his nose gratefully. "Thank you for that."

Silverpaw's fur heated up slightly, and she ducked her head in embarrassment. She hurried forward and snatched up a mouse from the pile so she wouldn't have to respond. Such warm displays of gratitude always made her flustered, but she was thankful that her friendship with Foxpaw had been restored.

"Better eat that quick," meowed Nettlepaw. He licked the remains of the vole from his muzzle, ear starting to twitch again. "Buzzardstrike keeps glaring over here."

Silverpaw turned to the left and saw the deputy speaking to Scorchfoot, occasionally shooting the five Initates an irritated look. She rolled her eyes and took a bite of the cold mouse. She wrinkled her nose at the stringy taste. She sighed wistfully as she remembered the fresh taste of trout.

"Too bad there's no fish."

"If there was any left, I'm sure Lizardclaw ate it as soon as he woke up," Runningpaw commented, sharing a shrew with Foxpaw. "I've never met a cat so picky about prey."

I don't blame him, Silverpaw thought as she finished off the mouse. I'd eat fish every day if I could. She gave her long gray fur a few swift licks as her friends readied themselves to leave. Ivypaw led the way to where the three Followers stood waiting.

"About time," Scorchfoot meowed, yellow eyes narrowed. "I was about to fall asleep on my paws."

Silverpaw caught sight of Ivypaw rolling her eyes and had to stifle a slight purr. She'd hardly spoken to Scorchfoot during their moon with BrokenClan, but he always seemed irritated whenever she spotted him throughout the camp.

"Let's go," growled Buzzardstrike, lashing his tail and heading to the log entrance. The patrol fell into step behind him. Despite the confusing thoughts and remnants of dreams swirling through her mind, Silverpaw felt a small flash of excitement at the prospect of seeing the rest of the territory. Anything is better than another day of battle training.

The sky began to lighten as they trekked through the marshy forest. Buzzardstrike led the group past the small stream and veered right, the opposite direction of the training clearing. Scorchfoot walked next to the gray deputy, with Silverpaw and her friends a couple tail-lengths behind. Lizardclaw brought up the rear as the small group made their way out of the soft, muddy land.

"I wonder how far the territory stretches," Ivypaw murmured quietly from besides Silverpaw. Her yellow eyes gleamed with eagerness.

"Probably not that far," Runningpaw meowed, leaping lithely over a bed of dead reeds. "Why would BrokenClan need that much territory?"

Silverpaw shook her head. "I'm not sure why we'd need a border patrol if it's far away. It's not like StormClan can access this part of the territory without crossing the northern border."

"Yeah, but—"

"It would probably be best," Scorchfoot commented coolly, glancing behind, "if you all held your irritatingly persistent questions until we got to the border."

Abrupt silence descended over the group. Even Silverpaw had the common sense to quit speaking. The pale ginger tom wasn't as intimidating as Buzzardstrike, but she knew Scorchfoot could be just as brutal if provoked. Just like almost all the other BrokenClan cats, she thought gloomily. She exchanged a glance with Ivypaw, and she saw her own frustration reflected in her friend's eyes.

Silverpaw turned her focus outwards. Dawn was beginning to break, and the faint rays lit up the rapidly changing territory. The mud under her paws transformed into hard, compact ground, and what few trees dotted the BrokenClan area near the camp almost completely disappeared the further they trekked. Buzzardstrike kept a brisk pace, and the Initates struggled to keep up. Silverpaw pricked her ears, but the loud rush of the river didn't reach her anymore. The abundant spindly reeds vanished, and she sighed, wondering when in StarClan they'd ever stop walking.

"Almost there," a soft murmur came from behind.

Silverpaw glanced back, startled, and met the guarded eyes of Lizardclaw. The wiry black tom flicked his brown ear. "We'll arrive by mid-morning."

She inclined her head slightly and turned back around. Mid-morning seemed so far away, and the small mouse from before hadn't stayed with her very long.

On and on they travelled until the ground began to slope gently under her paws. Finally, as they came to the edge of the trees, Buzzardstrike lifted his tail for them to halt. Silverpaw's paws ached from the distance, and she could see the same weariness amongst her friends. Nettlepaw leaned on Runningpaw, the long-legged Initate offering his shoulder for his brother. Foxpaw's jaws opened in a wide yawn, and Ivypaw flopped down hard on her haunches. Silverpaw shook the heaviness out of her limbs as Lizardclaw made his way to stand next to the other two Followers. Buzzardstrike and Scorchfoot turned to face the Initates, neither showing any signs of the fatigue the younger cats felt.

"This is the border farthest from camp," the BrokenClan deputy began, gesturing his tail to the large, open moorland behind him. Silverpaw's eyes grew wide as she took in the vast emptiness that was only broken by a rare tree here and there. The ground was rough and sandy, and little patches of grass dotted the land. In the far distance, she could just make out a line of trees. She shivered at the barren landscape before her, unnerved at how quiet it was. There seemed to be no life at all. Is this where one of the other Clans used to live? she wondered, reflecting on Hailfeather's words. But who could survive out here?

"BrokenClan territory stretches from this tree line through to the pine forest where you all were kitted," Buzzardstrike continued, bringing Silverpaw back from her thoughts. "This moor marks the beginning of StormClan territory and continues into the forest over there." He pointed his striped tail at the blur of green Silverpaw had noticed in the distance.

"Does StormClan even use this part of their territory?" Foxpaw ventured to ask, tilting his head. "It looks completely empty."

Scorchfoot snorted. "Of course they hunt on this part of land," he meowed impatiently. "The main prey they catch here is rabbit."

Foxpaw's ears flicked back, and he shuffled his paws. Silverpaw looked between the two toms, noting the similarities between their tabby ginger pelts. Foxpaw had theorized once that Scorchfoot was his father, and she couldn't help but agree. The Initate was almost a miniature version of the Follower, aside from Scorchfoot's snow-white paws. If he really is Foxpaw's father, why is he so mean towards him? she thought. Her mind wandered to who her own father was, and she lashed her tail again at the injustice of not being allowed to know of their kin. Ivypaw glanced over and pressed comfortingly against her.

Buzzardstrike's pale blue eyes caught the movement. "Is there an issue, Silverpaw?"

The gray tabby shook her head. Suddenly, her stomach let out a loud growl and she winced. "Just wondering when we can eat," she meowed.

Buzzardstrike flicked his tail dismissively and padded toward one of the trees on the border. "We will practice hunting when we return to camp," he growled, spraying his scent on the bark.

"But that's so far away!" Silverpaw protested, ignoring Ivypaw's hiss of warning. Someone had to say something at the absurdity of the situation. "We've barely eaten all morning."

Buzzardstrike stalked away from the tree and didn't pause until his muzzle was a whisker-length from hers. "Why," he meowed slowly, "do you always refuse to listen?"

She shrank away slightly, but didn't back down. Fear sparked in her chest, as well as indignation. "What's so terrible about allowing us to hunt?" she retorted, her long fur rising on her shoulders. "Do you want us to pass out before we get back to camp?"

A hard cuff on her head sent her sprawling onto the ground. Pain laced through her ear where Buzzardstrike's claws had nicked it. Silverpaw groaned softly as she stared up in shock at the deputy. He lowered his large forepaw back to the ground, eyes blazing with blue fire.

"You can't do that!" Ivypaw shouted, hurrying forward and standing next to her friend protectively. Her silver and white pelt was fluffed up. "All she did was ask if we could hunt!"

Buzzardstrike swung his head around and glared at the Initate. "She questioned a direct order from her deputy," he spat. "I suggest you back down, Initate, unless you want to end up the same."

"It's ok, Ivypaw," Silverpaw murmured, clambering back to her paws. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she stumbled slightly against her friend.

"You can't just hurt a cat if they disagree with your order!" Nettlepaw growled, coming up to flank the two she-cats.

"That's exactly what I can do," Buzzardstrike hissed, scourging his long claws through the dirt. "I am your deputy, and when Cedarstar is not here, my word is law. Is that understood?"

A beat of silence passed. Silverpaw was surprised to see Nettlepaw boldly hold the BrokenClan deputy's gaze. She touched her tail to his shoulder, not wanting him to get hurt because of her. Nettlepaw hesitated, and then lowered his eyes.

"Is that understood?" Buzzardstrike repeated menacingly.

"Yes, Buzzardstrike," the five Initates responded quietly.

"You would do well to remember the ways of the code," he snarled before swinging around and stalking back through the trees. "Lizardclaw! Scorchfoot! Finish marking the border. The rest of you, follow me."

The Initiates padded after him, a heavy, dark silence hovering over them. Silverpaw hesitated at the edge of the trees, glancing longingly back at the moor. Were the old Clans that Hailfeather spoke about also this violent and horrible? I wish we could run away from here, she thought sorrowfully. But she knew she couldn't, at least not while Skywhisper was still in BrokenClan. She couldn't bear to leave her mother behind.

A brush against her pelt startled her attention away from the empty land. She turned her head to see Lizardclaw next to her, his amber eyes somewhat softer than before. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Silverpaw glanced back at where Scorchfoot was still marking his scent, then towards where the patrol had disappeared between the trees. "I'm fine," she responded, confused at the unguardedness the black tom was suddenly showing. She flicked her ear where a small bit of blood had dried. "It shouldn't scar."

Lizardclaw gazed at her for a moment, hesitating. She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

The dark furred Follower simply shook his head. "I hope that you learn to be more careful," he murmured. "There is a time and place for standing up for yourself. Not everything has to end in teeth and claws."

Silverpaw stared at him, anger raising its head in her chest. "You act as if I'm the one who raised my paw."

Lizardclaw exhaled heavily, as if releasing all of his burdens in a single sigh. "Pick your battles wisely, young one. There is enough to deal with in this Clan as it is. You don't need to add a new wound to yourself every day."

"I'm not the one who slashes at seven moon old Initates just because they ask to hunt!" she hissed, starting forward to put space between her and the feather-brained tom.

"Not everyone is out to get you, you know," Lizardclaw snapped, stalking ahead of her to catch up to the patrol. He shot her a glance over his shoulder. "There are allies if you look in the right places, Silverpaw. Now come along before we get left behind."

Silverpaw stared after him, turning the tom's words over in her mind. It wasn't until Scorchfoot padded up to her that she started to move. She quickened her pace until she had sprinted past Lizardclaw and caught up to her friends. Thankfully, Buzzardstrike had not noticed her absence.

"You okay?" Foxpaw whispered as she slid up between him and Nettlepaw. His eyes traveled to her nicked ear.

Silverpaw nodded, flicking him with her tail. "Definitely not the worst wound either of us has had," she meowed lightly, thinking back to their first day of training where they had both suffered at the brutal claws of Mallowshade.

Foxpaw shook his head ruefully. "Never thought we'd be making jokes about almost dying at the claws of our Clanmates."

"None of us ever thought it would be like this," Nettlepaw pointed out quietly, hopping over a large ant pile. "All I wanted was to be the best Follower I could be, and now look at me."

Silverpaw examined the dark brown tom, noticing that, though he was growing leaner and more muscular, his tabby pelt was already coated in scars. She winced as she remembered the long scars hidden under her own belly fur. She butted his shoulder with her head. "You still can be the best Follower," she meowed gently.

Nettlepaw's eyes darkened. "There is no honor in the way these cats live," he muttered, shooting a poisonous look at Buzzardstrike's back. "There is no loyalty to anyone but themselves."

Foxpaw nodded. Silverpaw was about to agree, but she paused as Lizardclaw's words washed over her. There are allies if you look in the right places. She glanced back at the black-furred tom and met his eyes that were once again guarded. She flicked her tail tip questioningly, and he inclined his head in the slightest movement. She abruptly faced forward, feeling a glimmer of hope rise in her chest. If Lizardclaw could help protect them, maybe all five of them had a chance at passing Initiation. A plan slowly started to unfurl in her mind, and she had to stop herself from bouncing in excitement.

"What's going through your mind?" Foxpaw asked as he felt the shift in her energy.

Silverpaw shook her head. "I'll tell you all later," she promised. And she would. Because in order for her plan to work, she'd need the help of all four of her friends. Skywhisper told me to make allies, she thought. But my allies have been here the entire time.

Foxpaw nodded again and, together, they followed Nettlepaw over a stream and back into the depths of BrokenClan territory.