Time plodded on. There were more battles now, as ThunderClan struggled to keep its expanded territory while facing threats from all sides. Early new-leaf came and went- or at least what should have been newleaf; the cold of leaf-bare persisted for much too long.

Bluefur found herself checking her appearance in puddles sometimes, just to see how much more silver her muzzle had grown. She wondered if it was more due to stress or age.

There were no more evening patrols with Whitestorm. No more talks about the Clan's future with her sister's son. She tried to put Whitestorm's death in the back of her mind, burying it so deep that she couldn't think about it. About how she had let Snowfur down. About how Whitestorm's death had been a huge loss for ThunderClan. About how it was all her fault. She should have known the RiverClan cats were out for blood. She should have seen that the RiverClan warrior had been ready to kill. She should have known. If she had just fought the warrior instead of letting him go-

But she couldn't think about that.

There was a dearth of young cats now, with so few litters being born. Brindleface's kit had recently been named an apprentice, and to Bluefur's surprise, Stoneclaw had been chosen to be her mentor. Sandpaw and Stoneclaw got along well together, and whenever Bluefur saw her son instructing his young apprentice, she couldn't stop herself from feeling a warm glow of pride.

But every day Bluefur fought a pang of resentment. Too many had died. If only Robinwing and Willowpelt had survived to their kitting, ThunderClan would have at least had a few more apprentices. The Clan was in a precarious situation; Bluefur could feel it in her bones.

At least Goldenflower had given birth recently, but even that had been tainted with heartbreak; only one kit survived.

None of the younger cats said anything, but they had been disappointed. They were grief stricken by the loss of the kits just as much as their Clanmates, but on top of that they knew their chances for an apprentice of their own were slipping away.

They patrolled the ShadowClan border constantly. As well as regular dawn and dusk patrols, Thistlestar often stationed a group of cats to keep watch over the more fought over segments of the border during the night.

Tonight, Bluefur and Stoneclaw had been chosen, and as they made their way there, they were drawn into conversation.

"Sandpaw's training is going well," Stoneclaw meowed as he trotted along the path, tail held high.

"She seems keen to learn," Bluefur remarked.

"She is." Stoneclaw slowed to a stop, and then sat down, wrapping his tail around his paws. Sniffing the air, Bluefur joined him. There was no sign of ShadowClan tonight, and all was peaceful.

"You're doing a good job with her," Bluefur continued. "Giving you Sandpaw to mentor was one of Thistlestar's best decisions."

"And probably the only one you've agreed with," Stoneclaw replied, his eyes narrowed teasingly. Bluefur let out a purr of amusement.

They sat there for a long time, unmoving. No sign of any other cats came, and as Bluefur breathed in the air, she wished that things could go back to how they were when she was young. Raggedstar had died recently, and ShadowClan's leadership had been taken over by his son, Brokenstar. The younger cat had proven himself unpredictable- half a moon earlier he had launched an attack on Snakerocks of all places.

Bluefur could feel it in her pelt- the forest was shifting. She thought back to her younger moons, recalling how she and Snowfur had played together as kits, how Sunstar had watched out for her when Moonflower died, how she had trained as an apprentice with Lionheart and Goldenflower and Rosetail and Sweetpaw. Back then there had always been a certainty that whatever challenges ThunderClan faced, it would survive. Cats died but new kits were born. Old leaders would fall and new ones would rise. But no matter what happened, ThunderClan, and the rest of the Clans, would go on. That certainty was gone now.

After a long time, Stoneclaw broke the silence. "Was it always like this?"

Bluefur regarded her son for a heartbeat, and then turned back to the ShadowClan border. "No. It wasn't."

The Twolegplace border was considered less important than the others; after all, only kittypets and individual rogues ever crossed into ThunderClan territory from there. Bluefur often walked here alone, past the fences and shrubbery common around Twoleg nests. It was nice to get away from the Clan every once in a while, and Twolegplace was the last place she had patrolled with Whitestorm. She guessed it would always remind her of him.

Sometimes she passed the nest of Pinestar's old kittypet friend, Jake. Now she was in the same general area, a few fox-lengths off from the boundary. A flash of ginger caught her eye, and when she looked up she thought she saw Jake again, sitting on the fence.

Shocked, Bluefur crouched low, hiding herself behind a clump of ferns. It can't be, she thought. Jake was much too old to still be alive.

She chanced a second look, and breathed out through her nose. This cat was not Jake, but a younger tom whose fur was the same color. She had seen him a few times before now; the tom was always staring out at the forest with a look of intense concentration.

Bluefur watched as the ginger tom leaned forward. His green eyes narrowing, he bunched his muscles and leaped down the side of the fence. The tom glanced at his surroundings and took a deep breath, and Bluefur wondered if he'd ever walked among real plants that grew free from the influence of Twolegs. He then padded forward and began to make his way into the woods.

Bluefur trailed him silently. She would have to chase him off, but for some reason she was curious. As long as he did not get too far into ThunderClan territory she wouldn't claw him.

The scent of mouse hit her nose, and a moment later the tom's whiskers twitched; he had smelled it too.

The kittypet crouched down and began to creep up on it. There was a tiny jangling sound- Bluefur realized it was coming from the shiny thing hanging from his collar- and the tom froze. When he stepped forward again he was silent.

Peering around the side of a tree, Bluefur dug her claws into the ground, unsure as to why she was so intent on watching the kittypet hunt. True, she had seen him out of the corner of her eye a few times when walking near the Twolegplace, but that was no reason to allow this cat to catch a mouse on ThunderClan territory. Bluefur narrowed her eyes as the tom kept going. His crouch could use some work, but it was much better than she would have expected out of a cat that lived with Twolegs. In the end though, he hesitated a heartbeat too long when he got close and the mouse skittered away.

Bluefur shook her head to herself. What was she thinking? She had let this go on long enough. If this kittypet thought he was going to be able to hunt on ThunderClan territory without repercussions he was mistaken.

Tail bristling, Bluefur slipped into the clearing, and stalked, stiff-legged, into the kittypet's line of sight. "You shouldn't be here."

The tom stared at her in shock; he had obviously been completely unaware of her presence. She could only imagine the fear that must be flowing through his veins. For a Twoleg pet, it must be shocking to see an old, battle scarred warrior. But for some reason, the kittypet made no move to run. He stayed, his gaze half-guarded, half-curious.

"What are you doing here, kittypet?"

As she drew closer, his eyes flicked back and forth. Although he was standing his ground now, he looked like he was considering running, and Bluefur tensed, ready to give chase. As harmless as this cat probably was, she could not make him think he could wander about the forest whenever he pleased.

"Are you going to answer me?" she hissed. "What are you doing on ThunderClan territory?" He reminded her of a Clan cat in spite of his obvious kittypet upbringing. There were not many kittypets who wouldn't flee when faced with fighting with a warrior.

Finally, he answered. "I'm sorry." The kittypet cautiously lowered his gaze. "I didn't mean to intrude. I've only come here to hunt for a mouse or two."

Bluefur felt anger spread through her pelt. How could she have been so stupid? This was a Twoleg pet, not a warrior. He had no idea of the ways of the forest. "A mouse or two?" she spat. "Do you not realize that by hunting here you take food from the mouths of my Clanmates?" The tom stared at his paws while she glared at him, tail bristling.

Slowly, the kittypet raised his head to meet Bluefur's eyes. "I am sorry," he meowed finally. "I did not realize this was your territory. I will not hunt here again." He did not shake, nor show any sign that he feared being attacked, even though the thought must have been at the front of his mind. Bluefur was impressed.

After a long moment, Bluefur sighed. "You are lucky you met me, and not some other cat," she meowed. "There are ThunderClan warriors who would give you serious injuries for your foolishness."

"ThunderClan?" The kittypet's green eyes were filled with unguarded curiosity. "Is that what you call yourselves?"

Bluefur gave a stiff nod.

The tom's ears were pricked. "How many cats are in ThunderClan?"

Bluefur pondered how to answer. "Few, but enough," she replied. Why was she talking to him?

"So you all live and hunt on the same territory?"

"What makes us ThunderClan is not our shared territory," Bluefur explained. "Every cat provides for the Clan in some way. It is my duty as a warrior to hunt and keep intruders off ThunderClan land."

The kittypet's eyes had flared with interest at Bluefur's mention of the word 'warrior.' "Are you all warriors then?"

There was a sudden rustling noise, the sound of distant crunching leaves, and Bluefur twisted her ears toward the bushes. There was a patrol on the way, and by the scent wafting in the breeze she could tell that Tigerclaw was in the lead. The fierce warrior wouldn't take kindly to a kittypet, and since he was deputy she would not be able to stop him from attacking this tom, just as he had attacked another kittypet all those seasons ago.

The ginger tom was still watching her curiously, oblivious of the danger he was in.

She leaned forward. "Listen closely, young kittypet," she hissed in his ear. "Leave, and never return. You have no place in this forest."

The ginger kittypet stared at her, his eyes wide. The rustling noise was getting closer.

"Go!" Bluefur spat. His ears twitched; he'd finally heard the other cats. With a final look, the tom shot off. His flame colored pelt flashed in the sunlight, flickering one last time before he ducked behind the trees and vanished into the shadows.

Less than a heartbeat after the tom was out of sight, the patrol appeared.

"I smell intruders," Tigerclaw growled, stepping out into the clearing. Darkstripe, Longtail, and Mousefur emerged from behind a tree a moment later.

Bluefur shook her head. "It was just one: only a kittypet straying across our borders." A snarl rumbling in his throat, Tigerclaw made to follow the ginger tom's scent trail. "That won't be necessary." Bluefur barred Tigerclaw's path with her tail. "I sent him on his way. He will never come back here."