Blood roared in Leopardfur's ears. Lightning was flashing all around, and rain pounded onto her pelt, thick and heavy. The wails of her Clanmates echoed around her as black water churned at her paws.

"Help me!" a faceless cat shrieked. Leopardfur tried to swim towards them, but her movements were sluggish, painfully so. She could not get any further in the water, no matter how desperately she clawed and fought against the current.

"Leopardfur, help!" another wailed. Leopardfur turned to see Duckpaw's dead body floating towards her.

She shrieked in horror. Leopardfur struck out towards a tree for safety. This time she could manage to swim, and she sank her claws into the bark of the willow. Thank StarClan! She hauled herself up onto a branch, gasping for breath.

"Leopardfur!" a deep voice called. She looked down. Crookedstar was treading water at the base of the willow, his eyes frantic and wide. The big tom swam closer, gripping the trunk with his forepaws.

But he was weak.

Crookedstar strained over and over, trying to pull himself up. Leopardfur's eyes widened. "Hold on!" She crouched, trying to reach him with a paw. He was too far below her.

Crookedstar became very still. He looked up at her, his eyes glassy. "Why did you do this to me?" He asked, his mouth beginning to foam. "Why did you? Why?"

What?! Leopardfur strained. "I didn't do anything! Take my paw!"

"Why did you do this?" Crookedstar demanded, unblinking. "Why, Leopardfur? Why? Why? Why?"

"Stop it!" Leopardfur snapped. "I'm trying to help you!" Panic gripped at her as the distance between them grew. She couldn't tell if the willow was growing or if the water was receding. But Crookedstar did not break the stare that he held.

It grew very dark, and Leopardfur looked up.

A tidal wave was rushing towards her. It carried bodies of her Clanmates in its wake. Everyone was gone. Dawnwhisker, Blackclaw, Crookedstar—everyone was dead.

WHY DID YOU DO THIS? They demanded.

I don't know! I don't know! Leopardfur crouched low on the branch, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to grip the branch with her claws, holding on for dear life. The wave crashed into her.

Leopardfur woke with a screech. She panted heavily, her eyes wide with horror. As she caught her breath, she became aware of the splattering of rain on leaves. She frowned as raindrops began to seep down the branches of the bush she was sheltering beneath. I have to find a better den than this, she thought. After she left RiverClan, all she had the energy to do was make it to the edge of the territory and slink into the bush, desperate for more sleep. The war with BloodClan had been unlike any battle she had been in before.

Leopardfur sighed to herself as water began to drip onto her pelt. I might as well get up now, she thought.

The golden molly slipped out from under the bush, wincing at the soreness in her muscles. Her body still ached to its core, and she could feel keenly where her foes had clawed her. Leopardfur's belly clenched, reminding her of other needs. I should grab a piece of— She sighed. I have to go catch something. Her instinct was to go to the fresh-kill pile… but there was no pile in exile.

Very well, Leopardfur thought. She lifted her head to sniff the air. The rain made it difficult to catch any particular scents, but she heard some birdsong not far off. They'll be looking for worms today. Her tongue swiped across her lips, and she set out to find her prey.

It didn't take long to find a dove tugging at a worm, and Leopardfur made quick work of it. Even in her state, she was an experienced and patient hunter. As soon as the bird was dispatched, she began to tear into it fervently. She ripped out what feathers she could before taking big bites of the warm fresh-kill. Leopardfur hadn't been eating properly long before the battle—and out here, she wouldn't waste time with manners.

She devoured the dove as quickly as she could. Once Leopardfur's belly could take no more, she sat back. She felt a brief wave of embarrassment as she looked at the ravaged carcass, still half-feathered.

At least no one was here to see that, she thought, lifting a paw to her muzzle. She licked it once before brushing it over her muzzle. The comforting thought quickly turned sour. I'm alone.

Completely alone.

Her belly churned as her mind turned to Dawnwhisker. Even she wanted to throw me out. Leopardfur slowly crouched down, letting out a sigh. She had spent what felt like seasons trying to avoid thinking about how much it hurt to have lost Dawnwhisker.

Leopardfur sank her claws into the grass. I was such a minnow-brain. She stood up and dragged the ravaged fresh-kill towards the trunk of a tree to scrape debris over it. She sat down when she was finished and sighed heavily.

Leopardfur had not spent much time lingering around the outskirts of the territory. Why would she? Camp was where patrols were delegated, and the major borders were the most important to check and defend. She was close to the town here, and until very recently, there had never been any reason to suspect anything threatening would come from there. Most hunting was done on or near the river. Leopardfur closed her eyes and breathed in the scents around her.

Might as well get familiar, she told herself. This is where I'll be for the next moon. Maybe forever.

A warm breeze carried the many scents of the wooded area. Beech, willow, and aspen, all in flower. The mossy scent of the river, mingling with warm vole and mice. A RiverClan patrol upwind—it sent a pang of longing to her heart—likely heading out to check the ThunderClan border.

The wind shifted, carrying the less pleasant scents of the town. Leopardfur curled her lip. The smells were harsh in her sinuses, strong and alien. The roads and strong scent of humans burned in her nostrils. She shook her head, opening her eyes. Ugh. But she remained still. There was another scent she had caught—cats, unfamiliar.

Rogues? She wondered. Then her eyes narrowed to slits. Or BloodClan? The ragtag Clan had fled after the war yesterday—but could they be back for more? Leopardfur tasted the air, seeking the scent out this time. They're to the south, she realized. She slunk away, pursuing the source.

Leopardfur traveled swiftly and quietly. The distraction from her own thoughts was a welcome relief, and the thought of intruders in her territory made her burn with righteous anger. If they think RiverClan is weak, they're wrong!

It didn't take her long to find them—besides their disgusting stench of human rubbish and mange, they were embarrassingly loud. There were three in all. None bore collars, but Leopardfur could recognize their scent as BloodClan indeed. She did not recall meeting any of them… but then again, Tigerstar had not made a point of introducing her to his allies.

A big ginger tom sniffed the air. "Where's all the prey?" he demanded.

One of his companions, a black molly, curled her lip. "After all that talk about the 'prey-rich forest', there's nothing," she spat.

"Come on, guys," the third, a skinny tom, meowed. "Let's just find something."

Prey-thieves! Leoparfur's nostrils flared. At least it seemed like they weren't planning to attack. BloodClan must be falling apart after the war. Scourge seemed to be the only thing holding them together if they were so willing to flee when he lost. She unsheathed her claws.

There would be no need to go to RiverClan. She would deal with their indiscretion herself.

Leopardfur exploded from her hiding place, snarling with the ferocity of a badger. The smallest intruder shrieked in surprise. Leopardfur collided with him in a flurry of claws and blows, shredding fur from his spine. The other two cats let out startled yowls.

The molly reacted first, leaping for Leopardfur. Her attack was sloppy, and Leopardfur easily whipped to the side and slashed open her enemy's shoulder. She kicked out with her hindleg and dealt the small cat a heavy blow to his head, sending him tumbling.

"Stupid Clan cat!" the big tom spat. He swatted at her, and Leopardfur ducked, then surged forward to headbutt him in the chest. He stumbled, and she sank her teeth into a foreleg. In one swift motion, she jerked her head, tearing his leg out from under him and wrenching it powerfully. He wailed furiously and churned his free legs desperately.

"Forget it!" The molly shrieked. "Let's get out of here!" She tore off towards the town without so much as a glance towards her companions. The small cat took off after her.

Leopardfur held the big tom down a heartbeat longer. "This is RiverClan territory!" she snarled. "Tell your fleabag friends to stay away!" She dealt him a final flow to the face, claws sheathed, and released him.

Eyes burning with hatred, the tom fled after his companions.

Leopardfur panted briefly, still on her toes. Adrenaline surged through her. Despite her wounds from yesterday, she had taken on a rogue patrol with ease. Satisfaction warmed her. I may not be with RiverClan now, but this is still my territory, she thought. I'll flay any intruder that puts their paw over the border!


After the scrape with the rogues, Leopardfur had gone on to hunt again. Firestar has instructed her to bring a piece of fresh-kill to the beech copse at sunhigh each day during her exile.

Leopardfur had been successful in her hunt. She carried with her a fresh trout from far downriver, away from RiverClan's usual hunting spots. Her journeys to the beech copse would be the only time she was allowed within the proper territory.

Leopardfur sat in the clearing and dropped the trout at her paws. She curled her tail around her paws. Hunting for the Clan would not be too difficult. She understood the formality—it would show the Clan she was still loyal, still willing to provide. In truth, she was grateful for the regular task. It allowed her to focus on something other than the claws of shame that gripped at her belly and tore at her heart. And it felt good to stretch her neglected muscles.

The undergrowth rustled on the other side of the clearing. A dark tom stepped through, and Leopardfur resisted the urge to frown in confusion. It was Beetleclaw, one of the Clan's elders. It was custom, when a cat had been known to have killed another, for the killer to hunt for their victim's kin. She would have expected Silverstream—or perhaps Beechflower, in her stead—but not Beetleclaw.

Still, she dipped her head to the tom. "I brought this for the Clan," she meowed.

Beetleclaw stared at her for a few moments, his muzzle wrinkled. Leopardfur stiffened. There was undisguised rage twisting the tom's features. He padded closer.

"You're a disgrace," he spat, and Leopardfur flinched in surprise. Beetleclaw stepped closer, his teeth bared. "You ought to have been put to death."

Leopardfur recoiled, her eyes wide. "Excuse me?" she hissed.

"Shut up," Beetleclaw snapped. "You spineless rat." The tom did not raise his voice, but it was laced with hatred and disgust. "I'm sure you made Firestar leader just because you knew he wouldn't have the guts to do to you what you deserved." He spat at her paws. "Worthless coward."

Leopardfur's chest clenched painfully, and she watched, jaws agape, as Beetleclaw snatched the trout ungratefully and whirled around to pad back the way he had come.

Her muscles were stiff with shock. She felt as though he had just raked his claws across her face. Leopardfur trembled, furious—but her belly was churning with shame, too.

In all her seasons, she had not truly taken this custom seriously. Leopardfur saw the value in upholding it—better this than nothing—but, really, what was a piece of prey in comparison to a lost Clanmate?

She stared breathless at the shivering ferns long after Beetleclaw had departed. Now she understood.

It was never about the fresh-kill.