Three moons. Marigoldpaw and her brother had been apprentices for three moons. Hawthornpaw was amazing at hunting, even better than Lightpaw and Darkpaw, both of whom were almost warriors. Marigoldpaw could climb better than all three of them put together, or so she boasted.

"Assessment!" Squirrelwhisker had mewed. "We have to see how you're doing. Both of you," they added, and Ivyclaw nodded.

"Hunting, both of you," Ivyclaw mewed. "Separate, if you please. Oh, don't give me that look, you can do battle training together when you're done." And she and Hawthornpaw went their own ways. Marigoldpaw headed out into the hills, toward the White River. She'd look for a goose, or a swan, something impressive. Wouldn't Hawthornpaw be jealous of that?

She smirked to herself, thinking of his face if she actually did bring back a goose. She'd be content with a duck, honestly. Actually, she'd be happy with anything, as long as she passed, now that she thought about it.

Marigoldpaw shook her fur out and kept going, knowing Squirrelwhisker was tailing her. She scaled a cliff, and then another, climbing to get a good view of the territory before she started to the River. There was plenty of time, after all. All day, nearly.

She didn't waste any opportunities, of course. If there was a bird to be caught, she caught it, though that only happened twice. She carried both catches down the cliffs with her. There was an easier route back and she didn't want to have to climb for ages to retrieve fresh-kill.

Marigoldpaw liked the river. It was cooler near it. The one bad thing about the Cliffclan camp was how hot it got sometimes, with the sun baking down directly onto the stone.

But here the temperature wasn't so extreme. Marigoldpaw took a drink, slaking the minor thirst she'd built up climbing. She buried her birds near a rock so she'd remember where she put them and continued down river.

There was plenty of prey near the river, even when it was frog-river and low. Even prey needed to drink. But she had two birds already, and if she caught too much prey, there'd be no way she could carry it all back, even with Squirrelwhisker's help.

She wondered if her mentor was mad at her for passing up the mice she could see. Their name was Squirrelwhisker for a reason, after all, and they didn't get that by turning their nose up at voles. But surely they'd understand, especially when Marigoldpaw brought back a duck.

She kept walking downriver, careful to go slow and listen, keeping her nose downwind. She'd only smelled water-bird once, and hoped she'd recognize it when she scented it.

She didn't smell duck, or goose, or anything, hard as she tried. She got far enough down river that she had to turn back. Was this the right season for duck? Did ducks have a season? She wavered on that question even as she walked back to where she'd buried her birds, taking the time to pick up a couple smaller pieces of prey along the way.

Oh well. Better than nothing. She'd pass anyway; that much was a given, even if she couldn't show Hawthornpaw up. Even if she did, he'd probably have caught a hawk all by himself. He might have anyway.

Suddenly she wanted to see. She quickly dug her birds back up and waited until Squirrelwhisker appeared to help her carry them back.

"Good job, though I don't know what you think you were doing for the last bit," her mentor mewed.

"I couldn't find a duck," Marigoldpaw explained. Squirrelwhisker snorted and picked up her mouse and shrew.

They headed back together, scaling a couple cliffs along the way. They were close to the camp when it happened, they only had one rise in the way, and for the rest of her life Marigoldpaw would regret that she'd tried to find a duck. She might have been able to do something if she'd hurried.

A shriek tore the air, audible even from their distance. The sound was familiar, echoing through the cliffs, a sound of horror and heartbreak that Marigoldpaw couldn't comprehend then. But she did later.

It was her mother's scream. Marigoldpaw dropped the birds she'd caught as soon as the meaning of the sound registered in her mind. She ran, leaping, scrambling up the rise faster than she ever had climbed something before, not caring that she might slip and fall, and later she wished she had. It would have saved her from what she saw.

Poppyface screamed again. Her voice was hoarse, but the emotion in it was just as palpable as the first noise had been. It faded into a deep, heartbreaking moaning, falling with Poppyface as she slid into a laying position.

Below the moan Marigoldpaw heard a soft gasp, an intake of breath only barely managed. Her eyes followed the noise to its source and she fell without moving.

Blood and dust stained Hawthornpaw's white coat, turning it a mockery of his mother and sister's orange color. A jagged piece of rock pinned his back half to the ground. As she watched, stumbling forward, Ivyclaw shoved herself against it, trying to push it out of the way. She gasped, desperate, and shoved again. Sheepfur joined her, and then Kestrelheart. Marigoldpaw hadn't even seen them show up.

Together, their combined bulk shifted the boulder. Hawthornpaw shrieked, almost as loud as Poppyface had been. Their mother screamed, "Stop! You're hurting him!" but they didn't, not until the rock was off of him completely. Poppyface moaned again, pulling herself to his side with her front paws.

And then Larkheart was there, sniffing over Hawthornpaw, moving quickly, and then slowly. He backed away. "Help him!" Poppyface shrieked, but Larkheart only shook his head.

Marigoldpaw felt herself stumble forward, down the rest of the slope she'd stopped on. Ivyclaw met her eyes, and spoke. "He- he was climbing- The rock.. It was loose, he.. He missed his step. He hit the rock."

And then it hit him, Marigoldpaw thought blankly, half-comprehending.

But Hawthornpaw was still alive. He was breathing, his eyes were moving. "Help him," she begged Larkheart. Her voice lacked the venom her mother's had. Larkheart's head bent. Marigoldpaw felt her legs start to give out. She pushed herself forward, letting herself fall at Hawthornpaw's side.

His mouth moved to say her name, but only a wet noise came out. She saw blood on his teeth. "Don't speak," she begged. "Save your words. Please, Hawthornpaw. Please. You're going to be okay."

She heard her own words, distant, so long ago. "You suck at climbing," she'd said. Why hadn't she helped him get better? She'd only teased him. If she'd taught him, if she'd helped..

Hawthornpaw touched her with a paw. It seemed to cost him much to move it. He left a streak of blood where he touched her, but she didn't care. "Don't," she pleaded. His breathing was getting shallower.

She heard her mother. "Give him his warrior name," she said. Marigoldpaw looked up to see Brightstar. Her face was sad. "Please," Poppyface said, her voice coated with desperation. "Don't let him go to Starclan without it. Please, Brightstar."

Yes, Marigoldpaw wanted to say. He deserves it. Please. Her gaze fell back to her brother, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was staring at Brightstar. Their leader looked back, and nodded.

"A warrior goes to you," she mewed, head to the sky. The stars were there, Marigoldpaw knew, even if she couldn't see them. "A brave warrior, promising, strong. Know him for the warrior he is. Accept him not as Hawthornpaw, but as Hawthornpelt. Speed him along his journey, keep him from suffering, walk with him so he's not alone. Care for him as we cannot. Love him as we do."

"Hawthornpelt," Marigoldpaw burst out, the roughness of her voice grating. He looked at her, head barely moving. "Hawthornpelt!" she repeated, like a chant. Like a ceremony. Like the ceremony they would have had. They should have had. Together.

"Hawthornpelt!" Ivyclaw joined in, and then Brightstar, and then everyone, even their mother. "Hawthornpelt! Hawthornpelt!"

Marigoldpaw saw him die. She saw when his breathing stopped, when his head lolled to the side, and when his eyes dimmed. She shrieked his name even after he was dead. He couldn't leave while she was saying it. He couldn't leave her while she called for him.

But he did.

Squirrelwhisker silenced her. Her mentor laid their head over Marigoldpaw's back, stopping her voice, turning off the ragged sound of her cries.

"Poppyface," she whispered, her throat raw. Her mother turned towards the sound of her name, but her eyes were glassy. Marigoldpaw stepped towards her. "Poppyface," she repeated. Slowly, her mother's head lowered. Marigoldpaw reached out, seeking comfort, seeking anything.

Poppyface only looked at her, and then she stopped even that. Her head fell, eyes training back on the broken form of Hawthornpelt.

Mother, Marigoldpaw mouthed. No sound came out. She stepped forward, bumping against her mother's leg. Poppyface didn't react.

"Come with me," Squirrelwhisker whispered. They pressed against her side, nudging her along. Marigoldpaw stared at her mother, turning her head to watch her even as she was lead away.

Mother, she mouthed again, hoping she'd hear, hoping she'd know, somehow, that Marigoldpaw needed her. That she needed Marigoldpaw.

Poppyface never looked back at her.

Far away, Oriolepaw looked up from where she was following Fawntail, staring northward. It took a moment for Fawntail to notice she had stopped.

"What is it?" Fawntail asked, ears pricked. She glanced where Oriolepaw was staring.

Oriolepaw didn't answer for several moments. "Sorry," she mewed finally. "I thought.. Sorry. Let's keep going."