DAYLIGHT waned mercilessly. Sedgestrike watched the sun pass through the sky with haunting determination. There was no stopping it. Tonight, she would leave MarshClan for good. Her life would start over. She could be a new cat, a normal cat, that could live in ignorance of the cosmos. And yet, there was a pull. Her roots were still woven deeply into her birthplace. Laced with memories and relationships, if she dug those roots up, nothing would remain but dirt. Where would she plant herself next? Was she truly going to belong among the Fallen?

She ruminated in these thoughts as she walked back to camp with Fernstream by her side. Shutting her eyes as she passed through the palmettos, she delved deeper into her head. She had to go to the Fallen. Maybe, with their help, they could rise and stop Whitestar? But Risen said that the Fallen were giving up on resisting their vindictive leader… Maybe they just needed a little push? Some hope? Could she bring that hope to them? What would her purpose be if the prophecy was left unfilled?

"What do you think the Fallen are like?" Sedgestrike wondered.

Golden sunlight gleamed proudly, causing the whole earth to shine. A breeze ruffled through the jagged palm fronds, coaxing a shuffling noise from them. Flitting from pine to pine, a scarlet cardinal twittered above.

Fernstream watched the bird pass overhead, her eyes half shut. "I like to think they're like us," she replied thoughtfully. "They were once like us, only… they've been convicted of crimes."

"But you can't possibly think they're all bad?" Sedgestrike reasoned. "I mean, Whitestar would get rid of anyone that doesn't agree with her."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Fernstream relented half-heartedly. "But… we need to acknowledge that some cats are there because they committed great atrocities in MarshClan."

"Do you know one cat in particular?" Sedgestrike asked skeptically.

"Well." Fernstream hesitated. "No, no one really comes to mind." She sucked her teeth in frustration. "This just won't do… how could Whitestar really banish so many innocent cats?"

Sedgestrike shrugged. "Because she's evil?"

Fernstream frowned, staring at Sedgestrike with a glint of disappointment in her eyes. "I would've hoped you were raised to see the good in all cats."

Feeling her pelt prickled irritably, Sedgestrike picked up the pace. "It doesn't matter," she grunted dismissively. "There are cats that are just born bad. I know what she's capable of, and I know what the cats that follow her are willing to do."

At her grave remark, Fernstream went quiet.

They left the palmettos, stepping into the familiar murk of the marsh. The dingy shallow water held the sun's incandescent shimmer, gleaming with slick sheen like slug skin. Sedgestrike's paws gushed into the cool mud lavishly. She enjoyed the feeling of it soaking into her toes, knowing she would not feel it for long.

"I was only trying to suggest that we are careful once we leave MarshClan. We don't know those cats," Fernstream reasoned. She spoke carefully as if she considered her words heavily before she spoke them. "We don't truly know why they're there."

"I know, I know," Sedgestrike muttered, not keen on stirring up the subject again.

Before long, they were pushing through the sawgrass that flanked camp. When Sedgestrike emerged, she was greeted by several cats stirring excitedly through camp. Sedgestrike's ears perked curiously, wanting to catch the tail-end of the hurried murmurs reverberating around them. A muffled wail sounded from the gnarled roots of the nursery. At the sound, the Clan cats froze, ears on a swivel, only to resume their pacings and chatterings with greater fervency.

"That sounds like Juniperheart." Fernstream's worried mew was nearly drowned out by the dull roar erupting from the chaos around them. Her mother broke from her side to push through the crowd of gathered cats, making her way toward the nursery purposefully.

Sedgestrike lingered near the entrance to camp, uncertain of entering the depths of the swarming cats. She ended up being jostled into the crowd anyways as the sunhigh patrol returned. Spiderfang led the charge, shoving roughly passed Sedgestrike and through the Clan cats towards the nursery. Trapped in-between Otternose and Snakefang, she was forced to watch as Heronpaw exited the nursery wildly, nearly knocking over Fernstream as she attempted to enter. His icy blue eyes were wide with shock, and he regarded the gathered MarshClan cats as if they were a pack of dogs, breathing heavily and erratically.

"What's going on?" Spiderfang demanded as he approached the medicine cat apprentice. Despite his smaller build, the deputy looked double his size as his black fur stood on end. "I heard Juniperheart. Is she in pain?"

The queen's pained wail confirmed Spiderfang's question. He made a move to enter the nursery, but Fernstream stopped him. She gazed down on him levelly as the rest of MarshClan held their breath.

"Out of the way," Spiderfang snarled.

Sedgestrike was not used to seeing the usually eerily cheery deputy look so fierce. She was reminded of his higher ranking among the Clan, the Order, and the Eternal Night, and it all made sense to her. He had every right to claw Fernstream's face off if she refused his order; Sedgestrike's stomach clenched.

"I'm sorry," Fernstream murmured calmly, "but it's probably not best for you to crowd the nursery. Your mate." She smiled reassuringly. "She's giving birth."

Spiderfang craned his head to Heronpaw. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is this true?"

Heronpaw looked aghast to be asked such a question. He bobbed his head in what Sedgestrike assumed was supposed to be a nod. "Y-yes, it's true," he blubbered.

"Well, what are you doing about it?" Spiderfang snapped. "She sounds like she's dying!"

Heronpaw hesitated, glancing down at his paws, at Fernstream, and then to Spiderfang. "I… I was going to get Redleaf."

"Redleaf isn't here," Fernstream told Heronpaw gently. "He's still out gathering herbs."

Heronpaw blinked rapidly, as if the more he blinked, the faster Redleaf would return, the less Juniperheart would cry, and the sooner the prying eyes of all of MarshClan would shut. Sedgestrike felt confusion rise in her, and it was echoed by the curious mutters of her Clanmates. Did Heronpaw not know what to do?

"I—uh—I—" Heronpaw struggled to find words.

"Useless," Spiderfang spat. "Someone go fetch Redleaf!"

"N-no!" Fernstream cried out.

Sedgestrike felt her entire body freeze as Spiderfang turned on her. If anyone went to find Redleaf… their whole plan would fail. Fernstream met the deputy's enraged glare unflinchingly.

"She has no time. The kits are coming now," Fernstream mewed urgently. "I can help."

Spiderfang sneered, "You? A mere warrior? You'll deliver my kits?"

"You forget, I was once under the tutelage of Redleaf. I know what to do," Fernstream assured him.

"Very well," Spiderfang grumbled. Sedgestrike could see his ferocity disapparate like it was never there. She shuddered. A smile flickered on the smaller cat's lips, his amber eyes glinting with warning. "I entreat you to do what you must. My family's fate is in your paws," he yielded, though a warning hung on his tongue menacingly.

Sedgestrike realized if her mother failed, she would be the one to blame. She could… go to trial. It became hard for her to swallow as she watched Fernstream bow to their deputy. Her mother briskly went to Heronpaw, whom remained frozen during the exchange and only stirred to life by her nudge against his shoulder.

"I need you to gather an abundance of feverfew, for her pain, and gather the leaves and fruit of the raspberry bush which will help speed her kitting and stop her hemorrhaging, and then meet me in the nursery."

Heronpaw, having returned to reality, fixed Fernstream with an icy glare. For a heartbeat, Sedgestrike thought he would refuse, but Spiderfang's ominous presence must've convinced him otherwise, for he stole a baleful glance at the deputy before he nodded to Fernstream. Once Heronpaw followed her command, Fernstream promptly returned to the nursery. From its shadowy depths, Sedgestrike thought she could smell blood.

Spiderfang's glare raked over the gathered Clan cats, whom all stood in shocked silence. "Carry on about your day," he encouraged testily. "If you have nothing better to do than dawdle, I'll be sure to find some work for you."

The deputy's promise did well to break up the crowd. As the cluster of cats thinned, one cat remained standing. Sedgestrike met Blueflower's eyes in a heartbeat, and her paws felt knocked out from beneath her. She could see in her blue eyes that they were thinking the same thing: they were out of time. Uncaring of the curious glances she might get, she approached Blueflower determinedly.

"You know what's happening," Sedgestrike whispered, gazing at her intently.

"Yes."

"You know it's tonight," Sedgestrike continued.

"Yes." Blueflower's voice broke as she spoke.

"Then… then won't you walk with me?" Sedgestrike asked.

Blueflower glanced around them nervously, but most of the cats seemed to be going about their business, eager to look busy for Spiderfang. She gazed up at Sedgestrike, nodding slowly. "I will."

Wordlessly, the two she-cats made their way toward Mother Lake, slipping through the reeds and bulrush with haste. By the time they reached the sandy shore, the sun burned from gold to orange, sinking into the vast lake water to scorch its surface with light. Sedgestrike sat before Mother Lake, breathing in a soft breeze as Blueflower sat beside her. Their fur touched, and Sedgestrike shivered with a loud exhale.

"I'm going to miss you," Blueflower mewed solemnly. Her blue eyes held the sun's fire, and it looked like she held the entire lake's surface them. She leaned into Sedgestrike, eyes half-shut.

"Won't we still see each other?" Sedgestrike asked hopefully, voice cracking. "With Risen, you'll be contacting us often anyways, right?"

"It's not that simple! Our meetings with the Fallen are brief and infrequent. With Whitestar hunting for us, we can't be too careful," Blueflower mewed flusteredly. "It'll be different..."

Sedgestrike moved to stare down at Blueflower. She could feel her hopes dashed like dust in the wind when she saw her face, which was perturbed with brooding melancholy. "Then don't do it with Risen. Just come for me. Come to see me."

"I told you," Blueflower affirmed sternly. "We are being hunted now. And you? You… they would kill you on the spot for your betrayal." Her firmness was drained by fear and her face fell. "Your safety is all I care about."

"And what about yours?" Sedgestrike countered, anger flaring. "You think your safety doesn't matter? Risen needs you! I—I need you." Her rage faltered, ending on a hopeless note. "I'm supposed to just… runaway. And what? Pretend like everything's fine? Like you couldn't be dragged away at any moment if your identity was found?"

Blueflower shook her head. "This. Whatever this is. It's bigger than you and I," she argued. "You have a prophecy, Sedgestrike. Don't you realize how important that is? I haven't known of a prophecy coming to MarshClan in moons."

"Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up… it's not from StarClan," Sedgestrike retorted. "I have no intentions of fulfilling it."

"But don't you see?" Blueflower snapped, exasperated. "You are everything to Whitestar, you and your siblings, she would do anything to keep you three and ensure you do the Eternal Night's bidding." She lowered her voice, but her glower remained severe. Though they were far from earshot in camp, Sedgestrike knew they couldn't be too careful. Blueflower continued, reeling, "If we were to get caught, all the sacrifices you, your family, all of us made would be for nothing. We would jeopardize everything!"

Sedgestrike lowered her gaze, turning to watch the lake ripple with sunshine. Sluggish waves lapped sloppily at her white toes as they rolled to and fro from the shore. Blueflower was right. They couldn't see one another, not while Whitestar was in power at least.

"Sedgestrike," Blueflower's voice was soft, pleading. "I love you, more than anything. And that's why—"

"I know!" she snapped. She sighed, shaking her head, repeating more gently, "I know."

Blueflower pressed close to her again and she drank in her sweet scent. "It won't be like this forever," she whispered, pushing her face into Sedgestrike's shoulder.

"It won't," she agreed rigidly. Her voice held the storm of a fierce promise. "I'll make sure of that."

"Like the waves always come back to the shore, I will always come back to you," Blueflower promised, and the continuous sound of the flow and ebb of the waves echoed her words.

There was a rustling from the reeds behind them. Sedgestrike stiffened, unsheathing her claws as she heard Blueflower inhale sharply. They both turned around to see Pebblepaw pushing through to meet them; Sedgestrike relaxed at once when she saw the friendly glow of his blue eyes. His fumbling greeting was accentuated by the clumsy placement of his paws; he nearly fell in his haste to speak to them.

"Th-the kits!" he stammered excitedly. "They're born!"

Sedgestrike and Blueflower exchanged glances. In the heat of their discussion, Sedgestrike had forgotten about the new life coming to MarshClan, and that her mother was helping it be so. Blueflower also seemed to have forgotten, for she blinked in confusion before nodding briskly.

"Oh! Splendid," she gushed.

"How many?" Sedgestrike asked, rising as Pebblepaw turned back for the reeds.

"Uh, two, I think?" he guessed nervously. Waving his dappled tail, he led the she-cats back to camp. "We should hurry. Spiderfang wants everyone present for their reveal."

"Of course," Blueflower purred.

As they entered the clearing, it seemed all of MarshClan had gathered in the center. Instead of assembling before the Fallen Cypress, they were before the nursery roots in rushed clusters. The audience was full of eager mutterings and joyful laughs. Egretsong in particular was beaming, mewing to Gingerstep while staring blindly ahead. Her once golden eyes were reduced to clouded orbs framed by gashes.

"Tell me what they look like." Sedgestrike heard Egretsong murmur. Her heart sank. Had she not been caught up in the silent war between the Risen and the Order, she would still have her sight.

"I will. We've got a good view," Gingerstep assured her sister. Her smile held no joy.

Sedgestrike sat behind them, Blueflower and Pebblepaw on either side of her. She felt guilt rise up in her when she found herself wishing Pebblepaw had not found them by Mother Lake. Though reveals were a time of celebration and of great importance, she'd already sat through Lilypaw's and Pebblepaw's, Foxpaw's, as well as Hawthornkit's and Magnoliakit's. She glanced at the sun nervously, watching it sink toward the crown of the pine trees, setting the needles ablaze with a fiery glow.

She found herself searching for her siblings. It did not take long to find Yewbranch, for she sat closely beside Blackhawk towards the front of the crowd. She could see the distress in her sister's green eyes while Blackhawk remained frustratingly unreadable. His lips were drawn in a tight frown that only made the scar on his jaw look fiercer.

But then… where was Mudpaw? Sedgestrike desperately looked for her brother in the crowd, but failed to see him. Her heart sunk to her, turning to mush as acid bubbled inside her. No… no… he must be here. He has to leave! When she spotted him sitting beside Foxpaw, she relished a drink of relief, fears quenched, but it froze like ice in her throat when she saw the mud on his pelt and the fresh wounds engraved on his shoulders. It seemed Whitestar took him to spar. The gouges gleamed an angry red against his mottled brown fur.

Despite his injuries, Mudpaw was laughing. Beside him, Foxpaw, his training partner, was gesturing goofily towards Lilypaw and making animated moony eyes. Seeing Mudpaw laugh as he did pricked a vein in her heart; she felt it bleed as she recalled the days when she would be the one making him laugh and smile so. Perhaps those days would come again once they were far from MarshClan, she hoped. They needed to escape first, and her eyes found the one cat that would stop her: Whitestar.

Whitestar was sitting quietly upon the Fallen Cypress, watching her Clan like a raven would a fresh grave. Summoned by her stare, Whitestar met Sedgestrike's gaze and turned her blood to ice. Whitestar held no joy nor rage nor any emotion in her eyes, but somehow, Sedgestrike could see a storm play in their amber depths. The small smile cracked the ice in her features, and Sedgestrike returned it, feeling like her fur was crawling off her skin.

"It's not everyday MarshClan has new kits," Larkwing rasped from behind Sedgestrike. His words came as a gracious distraction and she turned to indulge it. She saw adoration adorning his graying face.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be beautiful." Owleyes was gushing beside him, her tail curled with excitement.

"It's a good thing Fernstream was here to attend to the kitting," Cypressfang pointed out coldly. His bitter, deep voice urged Sedgestrike to turn back around and look away. "That Heronpaw must have a bird brain. How long has he been under Redleaf's tutelage?" Sedgestrike's grandfather made a scoffing noise.

"Now, now, don't be so harsh," Owleyes chided. Sedgestrike glanced back to see the elder's wide amber eyes glinting. "He's always had Redleaf around for kittings, and Juniperheart is young; she was bound not to handle the pain well."

"Well, Redleaf's not getting any younger." Sedgestrike could hear the usual disapproving scowl Cypressfang wore in his voice. "He better straighten up if he's going to take over."

"Hush now!" Owleyes hissed. "It's starting."

Sedgestrike could see that the elder was right. Emerging from the nursery was a very tired-looking Fernstream. Her mother met her gaze, and Sedgestrike thought she saw the smallest nod. Heronpaw shuffled out behind her. His icy blue eyes were still as wide as an owl's, and they evaded staring at any cat in particular. The apprentice hesitated when he saw that Fernstream did not remain in the half-circle clearing that the gathered crowd created before the nursery. Her mother gave Heronpaw an encouraging smile before getting lost in the mass of cats.

Heronpaw froze as he was forced to turn to the whole of MarshClan. Above, Whitestar watched him like a hawk, her lashing tail betraying her impatience. Probably feeling his leader's disapproving stare, Heronpaw shuddered before he cleared his throat loudly. "I, Heronpaw, medicine cat apprentice of MarshClan, present the reveal of two new additions to our Clan." He licked his lips, shuffling his paws constantly as if he was standing on hot ash. "May StarClan light their path."

Amber eyes were suspended in the shadows of the nursery, only taking form when Spiderfang stepped out into the open. In his jaws, he held a small, squirming, wailing lump of tortoiseshell fur. He was followed by Shellshine, the all-mother, and in her jaws she held a squeaky black kit with a white belly, chest, and paws. As she walked, her low-hanging belly swung loosely. Her calico fur was drained of the sheen that garnered her namesake, and yet, Shellshine was glowing as she presented the kit to the Clan. Sedgestrike did not recall the last time she saw her so happy. Perhaps it was when Hawthornkit and Magnoliakit were born?

As the all-mother, Shellshine cared for every kit born into MarshClan. Her life and passion was caring for young. Sedgestrike silently admired the she-cat for adhering to her calling. She could never imagine herself being restricted to the nursery with a bunch of wailing kits for the rest of her life. Why could her destiny not be so easy? Her admiration slowly burned down into envy.

Juniperheart was last to leave the nursery. Her diluted tortoiseshell fur was ragged and still smelled of her kitting. However, she had a renewed glint to her yellow eyes and a dream in her smile. "MarshClan," she greeted, sighing. Her voice was reduced to a rasp after her yowling.

Sedgestrike leaned forward, finding it hard to hear the soft spoken queen, but she found Mothfur in her way. The warrior pushed against her, passing, but as he did so he whispered in her ear, "The sun is melting. Fernstream just left. Now it's your turn."

He was gone before she could ask him to elaborate. She whirled around on her heels to find him, but he was lost in the crowd. Bodies pressed forward against her as her Clanmates hurried closer to hear the names and see the kits.

The tortoiseshell kit was screaming louder now as the Clan eagerly pushed forward. Juniperheart's soft voice called his name, "My firstborn daughter, small but strong, will be named Flickerkit!"

Cheers followed her announcement. They rung in Sedgestrike's ears as she pushed her way through the crowd, spitting and cursing as she did so. Fernstream already left for the border. She must've gone after helping with Juniperheart's kitting, she realized. Gazing at the sky, Sedgestrike's heart sunk when she realized Mothfur was right. The sun was melting. It bled across the sky, smearing it a hue scarlet as deep as lifeblood. The horizon beckoned the sun closer, eager to taste its sultry heat. By the time the sun was devoured, she needed to be gone.

Turning to Blueflower, she watched her blue eyes glisten as she pretended to continue watching the reveal. Sedgestrike smiled sadly, knowing Blueflower had an idea as to why Mothfur came to her so suddenly. She leaned into her, her lips caressing her ear as she murmured softly, "I love you. This isn't goodbye."

Blueflower tilted her head towards Sedgestrike, refusing to look at her. In her eyes, she could see pain swimming luxuriously. "See you later," she whispered back, voice raw with sadness. "I love you more than life itself."

Tearing herself away from Blueflower, she felt her heart rip, intent on staying behind with her mate. Despite the fresh wound in her chest, Sedgestrike pushed through the crowd. If she stayed too much longer, she knew she could not bring herself to leave. Her unbecoming exit garnered frustrated hisses and surprised grunts from the MarshClan cats she crashed into them.

"Watch it!" Fogspots scorned.

Sedgestrike kept pushing.

"Look out!" snapped Claytooth.

Ignoring the muttered curses and protests, Sedgestrike was freed from the crowd just as Juniperheart named the squeaky black and white kit. "My second born son, so small and lively, will be named Flykit!"

Sedgestrike ran into the sawgrass as a chorus of cheers erupted from the clearing. The holler of celebration startled a flock of cranes in the reeds, and they called their farewell in mournful coos as the soared over Sedgestrike. Mud lapped at her legs as she splashed through the marsh, it's slick tongues wrapping around her paws as sucking her deeper as her haste betrayed her and made her sloppy.

Yewbranch would come next… and then Mudpaw. They would be safe.

The smoldering sunlight bled through the pine trees, staining their trunks and needles with blood as the sun was viciously devoured. Mud was caked on Sedgestrike's thick fur, only to be dusted by the sands cushioning the palmettos she sprinted through as she left the marsh. Faster, faster, faster. She thought she could hear MarshClan still cheering. She thought she heard the cheering descend into screams. The screaming grew louder and louder until Sedgestrike feared her ears would burst from her skull. It wasn't until she slowed to a stop in the darkening pine forest that she realized the screams were not coming from MarshClan, but the pounding blood within the veins of her ears. Panting, she shuddered when the roar of her hammering heart faded, replaced with the rumble of distant thunder.

Looking to the sky, she saw a thin line of storm clouds coming from behind. Lightning flashed with their gray bellies, promising heavy rains. She was urged onward by another faroff boom of thunder. The storm told her to keep going, or else face its wrath. A cool breeze rustled through the pines, carry the leaves of hardwoods with them, broad and green. Dancing a deadly waltz, the leaves descended to her paws, licking at her toes as she walked by. The river was close. The oak and maple leaves were being carried into MarshClan from the Land of the Fallen, for no true hardwoods grew in the swamp in abundance.

Slipping through cypress knees, she could hear the steady hiss of rushing water. Mist clouded the air, turned orange by the burning sunset. Shadows stretched, waking to soon consume the territory with their darkness, and on either side they were framed by blood red sunlight. She could taste the river water now. She could taste freedom.

She could taste blood.

Sedgestrike stiffened, keeping to the ferns That skirted the pine trees as the reek of blood grew stronger. Her veins flooded with fire, swelling her muscles in preparation to fight. Something was wrong. Her mind was too focused on the blood to contemplate where it was coming from or why. She only knew it was there. Her golden eyes flashed as she gingerly pushed through the ferns and tangled ivy, coming upon a hulking gray figure breathing raggedly over a body.

The gray figure was maimed by a long, ugly scar across his flank, a permanent fleshy stripe to contrast the other stripes on his fur. His breathing was labored and excited, disturbing the motes of mist around them so they swirled against his heaving shoulders.

"Longscar." Sedgestrike called his name, nearly unable to speak for the stench of blood strangled her tongue with its metallic taste. Her voice was as strong as stone and as deep as thunder. The fear she felt was surpassed by her suspicion. He should not be here.

The warrior turned on her, his amber eyes twinkling in the dimming sunlight. "Sedgestrike," he rasped, eyes widening eagerly. His lips were slicked with blood, and it trickled onto his red-stained chest as if he indulged in a generous batch of juicy cherries. "You came."

Sedgestrike stopped approaching then. Her eyes darted to the body he stood over, but did not linger long enough to identify it. She feared allowing her eyes to leave him for too long. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice staying strong.

"I could ask you the same thing. I heard two new kits were born in MarshClan." Longscar's cordial voice was nearly drowned by the sound of the rushing river. "Let's hope their hearts remain pure. We can't afford more traitors in MarshClan."

Despite the humidity expanding around them, Sedgestrike felt a chill. "What have you done?"

"Does it matter?" His tail lashed. "I did it for the good of MarshClan. In honor of our leader. As an honor graduate," he mewed challengingly, his amber eyes fixed on her pointedly, "you should understand."

"Dammit, Longscar." Sedgestrike stepped closer to him, fur bristling. "Who is that you're standing over?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher the limp silhouette amongst the thickening river mist. The scent of blood was too strong, she failed to recognize the scent of the cat. She did see, however, that it lay unmoving.

"You should know. You were going to betray the Clan together, weren't you?" Longscar hissed. His fangs glinted red like sharpened rubies. "I always knew you couldn't be trusted. Now, I have proof… Now, I can redeem myself for failing as a mentor, for failing as a warrior. No cat will ever doubt me again."

"Dammit all!" Sedgestrike snapped, lunging for Longscar. He quickly jumped aside, growling, and Sedgestrike found herself staring over a beautiful she-cat with tawny fur. Blossoms of blood bloomed at her white throat like a necklace of flowers, and her once bright green eyes were clouded and unseeing.

"Mother…"