1

The moor was eerily quiet. The moon, nearly full, hung high in the sky, bathing the land in a silver glow. Huffs and pants and snores sounded from all around the clearing, and the shapes of cats turned over and shuffled restlessly, curling in on themselves to try to ease their hunger pangs. A black tom slid around the sleeping bodies, stepping carefully so as not to place his paw on their tails. A soft hiss sounded from a gray tabby tom, who opened his blue eyes to slits, staring at the other cat for a moment before he closed his eyes again. The black cat carefully moved his paw from where it had nudged the other warrior, then continued weaving among the different pelts. The black tom's breath billowed before his face, his fur prickling and his ears drawn back to preserve their warmth.

He paused beside a rock, looking up at the pinpoints of white in the dark sky. Wisps of clouds trailed over the inky blackness, a few happening to touch the moon before passing on by. The tom lowered his muzzle and slipped into a crevice in the rock, ducking his head instinctively. He called, voice soft, "Redbird…? Are you awake?"

A white tom raised his head, peering back at him and whisking his red tabby tail back and forth. "What is it, Blacktuft?" he asked, sounding a bit grouchy.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Blacktuft murmured, dipping his head respectfully, "but how is Grousepaw?" He looked at the gray and white scrap of fur pressed against Redbird's side. Grousepaw seemed to be sleeping. Good, Blacktuft thought to himself. He needs some rest.

Redbird let out a soft snort, seeming amused. "He only scraped his paw on some rocks, Blacktuft. It'll heal up before long." He rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes, curling his tail against his side. "Go back to sleep. Grousepaw will be fine in the morning." Blacktuft hesitated, then turned his muzzle to the side. He shuffled on his paws, debating on how to respond to the tom's words. "I know you're still there," Redbird added when a period of awkward silence had gone by with no result.

Finally, Blacktuft dared to speak up, murmuring, "I'm worried, is all. What if Grousepaw catches the sickness from this…? All the other young cats have died from it, Redbird. Any cut or scrape could mean death… couldn't it?"

Redbird's whiskers quivered and he stood up -careful to avoid disturbing Grousepaw- and walked over to Blacktuft. The smell of herbs from the medicine cat's pelt filled Blacktuft's nose as he approached, and he stopped beside Blacktuft and stroked his tail along his flank. "Blacktuft," he murmured, "you spend a lot of time around this sickness, and you've, no doubt, pricked your paws once or twice on thorns in ThunderClan territory, right?"

Blacktuft turned his head to gaze at Redbird fully, his yellow eyes round. "Yes," he responded uneasily, not sure where Redbird was going with this. His tail drooped, his ears twitching, and he shivered at Redbird's touch. Exhaustion pricked at the backs of his eyes. What if he was sick, too? Maybe he had caught it from all this time he'd spent with the sick cats, and he hadn't known! Was that what Redbird was trying to tell him?

Redbird took a step back and, instead of telling Blacktuft that he was sick, simply reassured him, "Then you have nothing to worry about. You're not sick. What reason do we have to believe that Grousepaw will get sick from a little cut, then?" He pattered back over to Grousepaw, standing beside the apprentice's shoulder and looking back at Blacktuft. His green eyes shone with thoughtfulness, and Blacktuft searched them, in case Redbird was only trying to assuage his fears, not tell him the truth.

When Blacktuft was convinced that there was no lie, he murmured, "You're right, Redbird. He'll be fine." He walked to Grousepaw, leaning down and swiping his tongue between the young cat's ears. "Still, Blackpaw and Grousepaw are just out of the nursery. I worry…"

"Tallear gave birth to strong young kits," Redbird told Blacktuft, lying down. He fluffed up his fur to fend off the cold. "Have faith in them. They'll be okay. Go back to sleep, Blacktuft. StarClan knows you need it."

Blacktuft dipped his head again, then turned and headed out from the medicine cat's den. He cast one more look over his shoulder before he crossed the camp clearing, feeling the open air press against his skin. He waded through the small sea of cats until he arrived at the side of a gray she-cat and a black-furred apprentice. He settled down so that the young black cat was curled between them, and the gray cat whispered, "How's Grousepaw?"

"He's okay, Tallear," Blacktuft whispered back to his mate. He touched noses with her. "Redbird told me he's going to be fine. He said that there's no way Grousepaw could get sick with a little scrape like that. He'll be back to training by tomorrow." Blacktuft could sense Tallear relax, resting her head down. Blacktuft pressed tighter against Blackpaw and placed his chin on the ground, too, closing his eyes.

"Wonderful, Blackpaw! Great work!" Torntail called, lifting his stub of a tail and grinning as he watched the black-furred apprentice stand up with a scrawny rabbit held in his jaws. Blacktuft felt a purr rumble in his throat as Blackpaw bounded back to them, slowing down beside the two warriors.

Blacktuft nudged Blackpaw's shoulder with his nose, telling him affectionately, "You're becoming a fine hunter already, Blackpaw."

Blackpaw dropped the rabbit down on the ground, licking his chest fur a few times in embarrassment at his father's praise. "It's a pretty scrawny rabbit," he remarked with a modest shrug. "It'd hardly feed Gorsenose!"

Blacktuft chuckled and flicked Blackpaw's ear with his tail. "Let's go for one more, and then we'll head back to camp, alright?" He opened his mouth, tasting the air, and then said, "Let's move closer towards Horseplace." The WindClan deputy strode through the swathes of heather, glancing at the sky. It was nearly sunhigh, and clouds loomed on the horizon.

Torntail followed his gaze, his ears drawing back, and then he murmured, "Do you think it'll clear up by the time night comes? We won't have the Gathering if the moon won't come out."

Blacktuft replied softly, "It had better. We need to see RiverClan about the next tribute terms for the moon. The rabbits have been getting scrawnier, but it will be better in newleaf." He lifted his chin and tail, wanting to give off an aura of confidence for the warrior at his shoulder. "We've been managing."

"I'd hardly call this managing," mumbled Torntail, and Blacktuft sensed his eyes flicker to the deputy's thin stomach. Both warriors' ribs showed, outlined by their fur, which had long since lost its glow. "Maybe the other cats are right. Would it be better if we stopped giving our tribute?"

Blacktuft shook his head sharply, replying with firmness, "No. StarClan dictated that there must be four Clans at the lake. We will keep it that way. It may be hard on our Clan, but it's necessary." Torntail fell silent, frowning and letting out a soft sigh.

"Why do only RiverClan and WindClan come to Gatherings?" Blackpaw suddenly piped up, surprising Blacktuft. The tom had been so preoccupied with his own worries for the future that he'd almost forgotten his son was even there. "Lostear told me that there was a time when all four Clans would come to the Gatherings. Like that time with the Battle Against the Dark Forest! He said that the Clans all came together to figure out what to do…"

Frowning, Blacktuft exchanged a glance with Torntail, then answered, "ThunderClan and ShadowClan simply can't make it to Gatherings anymore, Blackpaw. They don't have the strength, and they can't afford to bring their cats so far away from their camps. It's already strain enough for them to hunt."

When Blackpaw still looked bewildered, Torntail reassured the young cat, "You'll understand in time, Blackpaw. There's a good reason for why we take fresh-kill to ThunderClan. There's also a good reason for why we only negotiate with RiverClan at Gatherings. Focus more on your excitement, Blackpaw. I know you were talking to Grousepaw all about it! Your first Gathering! You'll meet so many new cats!"

Blackpaw brightened at these words, his tail lifting again. He continued speaking with the tabby, but Blacktuft let their conversation fade from his attention. He tasted the air again, perking ears and listening to the wind. "Hey, Blacktuft!" a tortoiseshell tom called, bounding over to him. His tail-tip curled at the end and he let out a purr, walking alongside the cat. The faint smell of Twolegs wafted off his pelt.

"Patchtail," Blacktuft gasped, his eyes shining as he gazed at the other cat. Patchtail had been a kittypet, Blacktuft recalled, who had lost his way and ended up a long way from home. Blacktuft had met him when he was an apprentice, taking it upon himself to go meet with RiverClan when the Gathering was cancelled by storms that made the lake turn into a torrent of waves and foam. The two had been turned away by RiverClan, whose warriors had been irritated by the trespassing, but Blacktuft had been able to return to WindClan with a lifelong friend. WindClan, having been in the midst of its decline with warriors dying almost as much as ThunderClan's, had eagerly taken an extra set of paws. When Blacktuft and Patchtail were warriors, however, Trenchstar had sent Patchtail on a mission to go back toward Twolegplace to see if he could find cats who could help them. Now, Patchtail was back, after so many moons! "I have so much to tell you, Patchtail." He drank in the familiar scent of Patchtail's fur, relieved to have it back. "Tallear and I are mates! We had two beautiful kittens named Blackkit and Grousekit, and now they're apprentices!" A strange look was in Patchtail's green eyes, now, and it sent a ripple of unease down Blacktuft's spine. He had to force his fur to remain flat and kept his voice cheerful. "Look! This is Blackpaw, see?" He looked over at the apprentice, then back for Patchtail.

The tortoiseshell was gone. Blacktuft blinked, finding he had frozen in his tracks, and he scanned the moor desperately for a glimpse of Patchtail's fur. He jerked in surprise when a sharp prod landed in his ribcage, and he turned, fur fluffing, only to see Torntail staring back at him with round eyes. "Blacktuft?" the tabby mewed, searching his expression with great concern. "Are you alright?"

Blacktuft stared at him, then looked at Blackpaw, who stared back. He flattened his ears, then gave his head a rough shake and started padding on again. "Yes… Yes, I'm okay," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

"You were mewing someone's name," Blackpaw commented, striding forward a little faster until he was walking at Blacktuft's side. "It sounded like… like 'Patchtail.'" He searched the warriors' faces, tipping his head to the side. "Who's Patchtail?"

Blacktuft swallowed, feeling the heat of Torntail's stare. He gazed down at where he was placing his paws, stiffness in his shoulders. Blackpaw's question was met with stony silence, and he eventually caught the hint and fell into the back of the hunting patrol. Blacktuft raised his head, opening his jaws for another taste of the air, and caught a whiff of lapwing. He surveyed until he caught sight of the bird gobbling a worm from off the ground, then crept to a clump of heather. He ducked inside, stepping through the fronds and lowering his tail. He locked his eyes on the lapwing, coming to the edge of the plant, then braced himself before he leaped out. Blacktuft heard the roar of air in his ears, the wind tickling his whiskers and lapping at his cheeks coldly. Plunging forward with his tail streaming, he leaped as the lapwing began to take flight, hooking it from the air before it could escape and dragging it down to the ground. He pinned it, then leaned down and bit into its throat.

Pawsteps sounded behind him and Blackpaw exclaimed, "That was awesome!" He skidded to a stop by Blacktuft and looked over at Torntail. "You should show me how to do that!"

Torntail laughed, coming over at a slower pace, and he gave Blackpaw a playful headbutt. "Maybe later, Blackpaw. More training on rabbits, first," he purred. "Let's get back to camp."

Blacktuft looked at the other two and smiled around his catch, then started plodding toward the dip that was the WindClan camp. As he walked, however, he couldn't help but think back to Patchtail. He could've sworn his scent had been in his nose. He had heard his voice, just as light and cheerful as it had always been… but the other two hadn't seen him, and there was no sign of him, now. Blacktuft's heart ached, longing for the former kittypet to return to him. Torntail wouldn't believe him if he told him that he had seen Patchtail. The tabby would probably think Blacktuft was crazy! The WindClan deputy chose not to talk about it, and the three of them fell into what seemed to be a comfortable silence. Blacktuft, however, still felt as if ants were crawling beneath his pelt. He longed to returned to Tallear's side, to tell her of this occurrence. Maybe she would understand what had happened.

Arriving at the camp entrance, Blacktuft peered inside of the camp over the crest, beginning to descend down into the dip. Most of the other patrols were returning, cats lying around and pressing close together to rest. Sunhigh was as good of a time for sleep as nighttime, most days. Blacktuft wasn't looking forward to their restlessness after the controversy was stirred at the Gathering again. Every moon, it was the same. He had to fight not to sag, keeping his shoulders up, and weaved around the cats toward the fresh-kill pile. He set down the lapwing he had caught, watching Blackpaw proudly stride to the pile to bestow his rabbit upon it.

"Can I go see Grousepaw?" Blackpaw asked his father hopefully. "I'll be good, I promise! Redbird will hardly even know I'm in there!"

Blacktuft purred and nosed his ear, replying, "Of course, Blackpaw. Say hi to him for me." The apprentice lifted his tail and bounded across the clearing, squeaking as he crashed and tumbled over one of the sleeping cats. Blacktuft heard him shout an apology over his shoulder before he kept running, his tail disappearing inside of the rock. Blacktuft chuckled and turned to look at Torntail. "You'll take them out for a border patrol, won't you? You and Gorsenose?"

"At dusk? Yeah," Torntail answered him, nodding toward the gray tabby form of Gorsenose, who was curled up in a ball against Hollowpelt. "Gorsenose wants to make sure Grousepaw has time to heal up that paw before he does anything excessive. A hunting patrol would be too much."

"You mean Gorsenose doesn't want to hear Grousepaw whining every time he finishes chasing a rabbit," snorted Blacktuft, giving his head a shake. "Young cats these days!"

Torntail shoved him with his shoulder, making Blacktuft stumble, and exclaimed, "Don't say that! You're going to make me feel old!"

Blacktuft let out a mrrow of laughter, "I've got news for you, Torntail: We are old!" He shoved him back, then trotted away from the tabby warrior. "I have to go. I need to talk to Tallear." Torntail dipped his head, and Blacktuft padded toward his mate.

Tallear was settled with a pale brown tabby she-cat named Springfeather. They were sharing tongues lazily, some of the few cats not trying to sleep. Both cats looked up when Blacktuft approached, ears perking, and Springfeather greeted him, "Hey, Blacktuft. How was the hunting patrol?"

Blacktuft halted beside Tallear, smiling at Springfeather and mewing, "It went well enough, Springfeather. We didn't catch much till the end, there, but it was good." He looked at Tallear, sending her a look, and then murmured, "Do you mind if I take Tallear for a moment?"

"It's fine," Springfeather reassured him, though she looked bewildered by what it could be. She gave a small shrug and smiled back, though, and Blacktuft led Tallear out from the camp.

The gray she-cat followed him in silence, not asking what was going on until they had reached another dip some ways from the camp. "What's going on, Blacktuft?" she asked, standing close to him so their noses nearly touched.

Blacktuft flattened his ears, his low tail sweeping as he considered how to begin. "I… saw something," he answered, his eyes shifting to his paws. He scuffed them again, not minding to stop himself in front of Tallear. It was okay if she knew he was nervous about talking about it. He saw her head tilt out of the corner of his eye, but, like always, she didn't rush him to talk about what was bothering him. Blacktuft opened his jaws a few times before closing them in defeat, and then, finally, he simply stated, "I saw Patchtail."

"Patchtail?" gasped Tallear, eyes lighting up with recognition. She had known the tom well, too, since the three of them went on many of their adventures together. She'd never been as close to him as Blacktuft, but she had shared Blacktuft's pain when their partner in crime was separated from them. "You saw Patchtail? He's been gone for moons! Where was he? Did you talk to him?"

Blacktuft's face felt hot with embarrassment that he had misled her. He sat down, and her excitement died. She seated herself beside him, pressing against his side and stroking her tail slowly along his spine. Blacktuft choked out, "He wasn't really there, Tallear… He was… He was just a vision."

He closed his eyes and felt her nose press against the side of his neck. She held it there, then moved her head back and nudged his chin. He looked at her, his yellow eyes meeting her brilliant blue ones. He had always thought her eyes were so beautiful… Tallear whispered to him, her breath warming his cold muzzle, "You really miss him… don't you?"

"Don't you?" Blacktuft croaked, the heat in his face moving to press against the backs of his eyes. He screwed them shut as if he was in pain, bowing his head so low that he felt he could touch his paws with his chin. "We lost so many cats, Tallear… The sickness t-took so many… We didn't need to lose a friend, too." He pushed his muzzle into her fur after a pause.

Tallear rested her head on top of his, shushing him softly as he shook, giving him the occasional lick between the ears. He cherished the feeling of her fur, somehow so soft despite the hunger. Her voice murmured, "Blacktuft… are you sure…? Are you sure it wasn't a vision from StarClan…?"

Blacktuft stiffened, jerking his head back and staring at her in shock. He stood up, taking a few steps back and letting his tail curl between his legs. "Wh-What?" he breathed, his voice shaking miserably. "How could you say that?" His matted fur began to rise, and his eyes hardened with indignation. "That's impossible! Patchtail isn't dead!"

Tallear looked away from him after he said this, wrapping her tail around her paws and hunching over slightly. She whispered, "Blacktuft… it's been several moons, now. Maybe it's time to admit it. Patchtail's gone…"

The WindClan deputy felt a rush of emotion. Part of him wanted to rant and rave at Tallear, but the other part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and never emerge again. He clenched his jaw, his tail giving a few lashes that made Tallear tense as if bracing herself for him to yell. Instead, Blacktuft shouldered his way past her. "I need to talk to Trenchstar about the Gathering," he mumbled as he passed her, then lengthened his stride, his wiry body springing out from the dip and to the edge of the WindClan camp. He faltered when he came to the edge, then took a few steps back and began pacing. He stared at the ground, ears tucked back and claws unsheathing. He let them tear into the grass with every step, his tail still lashing.

He caught dark gray fur out of the corner of his eye and halted immediately, not wanting his Clanmates to see his distress. He faced Lostear, the only elder remaining in all the Clans. The tom's aged green eyes stared back at Blacktuft. Blacktuft was the first to turn his head. "Forgive me, Lostear," he apologized in a soft voice, then clambered over the rise and leaped into the dip before Lostear could speak. He didn't want to hear anyone's advice. Blacktuft's paws itched to take him far away, but he forced himself to follow what he had told Tallear, making a beeline for their leader, a dark brown tabby tom who had lost some of his own lives to the sickness and famine.

Blacktuft padded to Trenchstar's side, halting there and looking at the sleeping tom. He glanced at the sky, then reached forward with a paw and gently nudged the leader. He lowered his muzzle, calling softly, "Trenchstar. Trenchstar?" Trenchstar woke groggily, looking at Blacktuft and blinking sleepily. "We should talk about the Gathering."

Trenchstar mumbled something incomprehensible before rising, stretching each paw. He opened his jaws wide in a yawn, showing off a mouth full of sharp teeth, and then he led Blacktuft toward the other side of camp. He padded around Tallrock, lying down behind it and gazing at Blacktuft, meowing, "What are you thinking, Blacktuft? Same terms?"

"No, we need to get more help from RiverClan," admitted Blacktuft, settling down and tucking his paws under his chest. He pressed his tail against his side, gazing at Trenchstar and hoping his gaze was level. He chased Patchtail and Tallear out of his mind, trying to focus on the Gathering that loomed ahead. "Don't you think? The moor's practically empty."

Trenchstar shook his head, replying, "We can't do that, Blacktuft." He sighed softly, glancing at Tallrock. "RiverClan is straining to give ShadowClan enough, too. They're already tense about it. We are the strongest advocates for lending ThunderClan and ShadowClan help, and some of the RiverClan warriors resent us for that. We can't make RiverClan give prey; we'll risk our fragile peace terms."

"ThunderClan's almost extinct, Trenchstar," Blacktuft argued. "The only way to encourage them to have more kittens after Flowerpaw and Juniperpaw is to give them something of a surplus. They have seven cats left, Trenchstar. Seven! And you and I both know how miserable Tumblesnap is feeling. I… I fear he doesn't have much longer left, Trenchstar."

Trenchstar shook his head, meowing, "ShadowClan is faring just as poorly, Blacktuft. Both Clans are lucky to have scraped together medicine cats. We should agree to the same terms."

"And if RiverClan argues that they should have help from us…?" Blacktuft questioned warily. "What should we do, then? We don't have the amount of fresh-kill to support that, either."

Trenchstar hummed softly, adjusting his position, and then he replied, "We may be forced to agree." When he saw Blacktuft stiffen, he went on, "We can't afford any more tension between ourselves and RiverClan. If we fight… it would mean the end for ThunderClan and ShadowClan." He turned his muzzle away, closing his eyes and sighing softly, "Maybe the end for all Clans."

Blacktuft unsheathed his claws and dug them into the ground, muttering angrily, "RiverClan should do its best to keep things placid, just like us. They have to realize this."

"Cats are young, Blacktuft," Trenchstar reminded him. "The elders and the kittens died, except for the sparse few who could survive, like your kits and two of the kits of Willowbranch. We're all desperate to keep enough prey together, and if the young cats of RiverClan become reckless without the guidance of an elder or of StarClan, we could have a war on our paws."

"I understand, Trenchstar," Blacktuft murmured grimly, flattening his ears. "Is this all we can do? Negotiate for the same terms?" Trenchstar nodded slowly and Blacktuft added, "How do you think they'll take Blackpaw and Grousepaw?"

Trenchstar smiled softly and responded, "Don't worry about your kits, Blacktuft. I'll have their mentors come with us, to keep them close. RiverClan won't be able to take them away from you."

Blacktuft dipped his head graciously. "What about their mother? Will she come?"

Trenchstar hesitated, then asked him, "Do you think it would make you more comfortable?" Blacktuft mewed a yes. "Then I will bring her, also. I need you in the best shape for talking with RiverClan. Sleep, Blacktuft. I know you were awake last night, and you still need to deliver prey to ThunderClan."

Blacktuft rose to his paws, dipping his head before padding back into the clearing. He spotted Tallear settling back down beside Springfeather and made his way over to her. She eyed him uncertainly, but relaxed when he leaned forward and pressed his muzzle to her cheek, murmuring to her, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Tallear replied, giving him a nuzzle on the cheek in return. "Lie down. You're exhausted." Blacktuft gave her a grateful smile, then curled up beside her, pressing his back against hers. It pricked at him, though, hearing her say that. Everyone seemed to tell him he was exhausted, these days. What about them?