A/N: So, this is so not the direction I had originally intended for this chapter, but I kinda like how it turned out.

By the time the next gathering came along, leaf-bare had fallen on ThunderClan completely. The weather was chilled, and the apprentices had shifted their nests together in the den for warmth in the nights. Fortunately, no other cats had caught ill, and the greencough that had claimed Fuzzypelt and Poppydawn was washed from camp. The losses of the two elders had taken its toll on the morale of the clan, however, and many still hung their heads when passing the elder's den. Though Dustpaw missed his father dearly, especially right after losing his mother, he felt a new surge of energy with Fuzzypelt gone. It was not from joy, but from determination. He had to live up to both of his parents as a warrior, and that wasn't going to be easy.

The rising sun gave no warmth to Dustpaw as he traveled along with his mentor, Sandpaw, and Whitestorm on dawn patrol. They were trekking across the RiverClan border, and the dead forest floor was frozen against his pads, causing shivers to run through him constantly. Sandpaw looked equally as uncomfortable, but she didn't complain, and neither did he. The two warriors leading the patrol seemed to be perfectly fine, though sometimes Dustpaw caught them shaking their paws impatiently a the freezing ground. He'd already been informed he would attend the gathering, along with Sandpaw and Ravenpaw. Bluestar had told the clan who would go the night before, so the warriors would be ready to leave early.

"Can we hurry up?" Sandpaw complained loudly from beside Dustpaw. "My paws are going to freeze off!"

"Quiet," Whitestorm scolded gently. "We'll be done soon."

"They'll both be in for a shock when the snow comes," Redtail purred lightly in amusement, glancing back at the two shivering apprentices, who returned his bright gaze with annoyed ones, only making him laugh more.

"Oh yes." Whitestorm agreed with the same tone.

They both went silent as they approached Sunningrocks. The sun - which was climbing into the sky steadily now - was reflecting off of the pale stone, though clearly lending no warmth. Dustpaw knew why they had stopped speaking. RiverClan had made it clear in the recent moons that they would take Sunningrocks, and there had been numerous border disputes between the two clans. So far, Dustpaw had been apart of none, but Ravenpaw had, and he was still shaken from it. Border patrols rarely did much damage when battling, but the two clans had been vicious in the battles that had happened already - one of them even leading to the death of his own mother. They would be keeping an eye out for the rival clan.

Dustpaw kneaded his claws in and out of the dirt as he walked, and glancing over at Sandpaw, he saw her anticipation shining through her eyes. Both apprentices were eager for their first battle, but for Dustpaw, it would be more. He wanted to teach Riverclan they couldn't get away with murder, especially not over a silly border. As they sprang up onto Sunningrocks, Dustpaw glared out towards the rival clan's territory, scenting the air and hoping to smell enemy cats on their side of the border. Whitestorm and Redtail left the apprentices at the top of the rock and padded up to the border and refreshed the markers, pausing briefly and staring across. Dustpaw was about to sag in disappointment, cursing Riverclan for deciding to stay quiet now, until he heard Redtail hiss suddenly. Together, Dustpaw and Sandpaw scrambled from the rock and towards their mentors, fresh with the prospect of battle. Their mentors were facing off with a Riverclan patrol, each cat on their own side of the border, but their fur bristled.

"We weren't coming over the border. Move on, Redtail!" a dark, brown-reddish tom snarled, and Dustpaw recognized him as the deputy Oakheart.

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't believe you," Redtail retorted, his claws digging into the dirt. "Riverclan has never been very mindful of the border."

"What are you talking about, fox-dung?" a golden tabby she-cat hissed from Oakheart's side.

"How about when you killed my mother!" Dustpaw snapped, unable to stop himself from speaking. "Trying to take Sunningrocks, which is ours!"

"Letting kits speak for your clan now, are we?" a brown and white tom taunted. Redtail slashed his claws forward, narrowly missing the toms nose, but still keeping to his side of the border, not launching into an attack yet.

"My apprentice is right," the deputy snarled. "Riverclan's version of the warrior code means killing loyal warriors over a border dispute!"

"Robinwing's death was not our fault," Oakheart snapped, but Dustpaw saw his strong gaze falter at the accusation. "She shouldn't have kept fighting when she was hurt so badly-"

"Are you saying it's her fault she died?" Whitestorm spoke up for the first time, his fur bristling so much he looked twice his size. Dustpaw remembered what Whitestorm had told him about his mother, how Robinwing had basically raised the white warrior as well, and he was glad that another cat understood what he felt right now. Oakheart took a small step back and bowed his head, and the battle in his eyes faded at his apologetic gesture. The two warriors on the patrol with him spat but took a few steps back as well, glaring at the Thunderclan cats.

"Of course not," Oakheart meowed. "Leopardfur, Owlfur, this is over. Let's go back to camp."

"Farewell, murderers," Sandpaw hissed under her breath as the Riverclan patrol turned and started towards the river on stiff legs. Whitestorm flattened his fur, but his eyes still blazed with fury as he watched the patrol disappear into the brush on the other side of the river.

Redtail didn't speak, but flicked his tail to signal his patrol to return to camp as well. Dustpaw glared one more time into Riverclan then hurried after his mentor and the other two. On the way back to camp, Whitestorm told Sandpaw and Dustpaw to catch something for the elders, and to meet them back home. Dustpaw managed to catch a mouse and a vole, while Sandpaw had caught an impressive looking rabbit. He was impressed she was able to find one, nonetheless catch one. When they got back to camp, Whitestorm expressed his own admiration, praising her and sending her to the fresh-kill pile for something nice. Dustpaw headed towards the elder's den to hand over his catch, and when he stepped up to the den, his stomach clenched painfully.

"Morning, Dustpaw. I heard there was some trouble on the border this morning," Smallear greeted, nodding his thanks at the vole laid in front of him. "Redtail said you had quite the tongue."

Dustpaw didn't respond, just twitched his ear to show he'd heard, and then turned and headed back out into the clearing. He was just about to go and grab something to eat from the fresh-kill pile when his mentor called to him, and he stopped, looking up curiously. The look in Redtail's gaze told him he was in trouble.

"I know, Redtail-"

"No, you don't know." Redtail snapped, batting Dustpaw over the ears with claws sheathed. "You need to learn to hold your tongue, especially when things are so tense with Riverclan right now."

"Redtail, they killed my mother-"

"You aren't the only cat in this clan who cared about Robinwing!" Redtail hissed, and he had to take a moment to relax. "Robinwing was a good friend to me, and I know what you're feeling right now. But you can't be reckless. Oakheart - or any one of those warriors - could have turned you to crow-food with one swipe of their claws."

"I'm sorry, Redtail," Dustpaw grumbled, pawing at the dirt in the clearing. "I won't do it again."

"I know you won't. I'm not punishing you, but if it happens again, expect consequences."

"Yes, Redtail,"

"Good. Now get something to eat. We're going out later for some battle training with Sandpaw."

"Will I ever get to train with Ravenpaw? I barely see him anymore!" Dustpaw suddenly meowed, his voice bitter. "It's like Tigerclaw's made it his mission to keep us apart!'

"I'll talk to Tigerclaw when he's back from his hunting patrol and ask if they want to join us. Now, off you go," now that the scolding was over, Redtail's gaze was more friendly, and as Dustpaw passed him on the way to the fresh-kill pile, he flicked his tail over the young tom's ear.

Dustpaw took a small shrew from the fresh-kill pile, carrying it back over to the apprentices den, where Sandpaw had already finished her meal and was busy grooming her ginger fur. Dustpaw paused for a moment to watch her, wondering what she thought of him, then shook his head and settled down. There was no point worrying about that now. He needed to focus on training, so he could become the best warrior in the clan, and live up to his parents reputations. He shouldn't be worrying about silly things like who he would spend his time with as a warrior. Besides, hadn't he told his mother he would never fall in love, and never have kits? And so far with what had happened, he wasn't sure his mind was changed. He knew the terrible feeling of losing a parent, and he wouldn't ever want his own kits to feel like that. Not ever.

"Dustpaw!" he snapped out of his reverie at the feeling of sharp claws digging in his side, yelping.

"Hey, what was that for!" Dustpaw hissed, batting her paw away and settling back down in the dirt.

"I asked you a question, mouse-brain! Don't you ever listen anymore?"

"I was just thinking."

"Well, about what? Seemed interesting enough to ignore your best friend, what was it?" she insisted. Dustpaw glanced at his paws and shuffled them embarrassedly on the ground. He couldn't tell her he was thinking about whether or not he'd take her as a mate. That was too humiliating. No. That would be spread around camp, and he'd be teased for moons!

"About Fuzzypelt and Robinwing," he lied instead. "I don't think I'll ever be as good a warrior as they were."

"Of course you will. Redtail's your mentor, you know you will," Sandpaw waved her tail absently. "Not even a question."

"Well, I'm not as confident as you. You just know you're going to be the best hunter in the clan. But what am I going to do? Sit around and hunt sometimes, fight sometimes? I'll just be an average warrior, and I'll never do anything great for the clan."

"Don't be stupid," Sandpaw growled. "Hunting sometimes and fighting sometimes is great for the clan. And, eventually, you'll have kits with some cat and bring new warriors to the clan. That's great."

"I've already said, I'm never having kits," Dustpaw said stubbornly.

"That's a lot of fox-dung you're talking," she snorted. "you will at some point. Most everybody does."

"But-"

Dustpaw was interrupted when he saw Whitestorm and Lionheart headed their way. He noticed then that Bluestar was crossing the clearing and heading for the entrance of camp, where she paused and sat, waiting patiently. He glanced up at the sky. It was only sunhigh, where was Bluestar going? His question was answered as the warriors came closer, and they motioned for Dustpaw and Sandpaw to get up.

"Bluestar wants to patrol RiverClan again after the incident this morning. She would like you two to come along." Lionheart said in his deep, thoughtful voice. The two apprentices exchanged looks of excitement. Maybe this would be their chance at a fight! Finally! They'd been training for nearly three moons, and hadn't been into any sort of trouble. Dustpaw knew he shouldn't be so thrilled to get into a battle, especially since his mother had died that way, but to fight for his clan was to show his loyalty! And more than that, he wanted to sink his claws deep into the pelt of any slimy, RiverClan cat.

As they walked out of camp and headed towards the RiverClan border again, Bluestar and Whitestorm trailed slightly ahead, speaking in low tones, leaving Lionheart to stay close to the apprentices should danger present itself. Sandpaw was bouncing through the undergrowth, but Dustpaw's excitement was suddenly gone. His stomach twisted uneasily. There was going to be a fight, he just knew it, and something bad was definitely going to happen. But what, he couldn't quite say. The last time his stomach and been so bothered, his mother had come home dead. Now, he didn't take bellyaches too lightly. Once, he had naively wondered if StarClan had given him the power to know when something bad was about to happen, but he realized later that a lot of others had the same feelings deep within their bellies when something bad happened too. It was almost like instinct. And right now, Dustpaw had a serious instinct he was going to be ripping the fur out of a RiverClan warrior soon. They were growing nearer to the border now, and with each step, his stomach twisted painfully, so much so at one point he had to stop moving. Sandpaw went right on, not noticing through her own head, but Lionheart stopped, looking at him quizzically.

"I have a bad feeling about this patrol," Dustpaw explained sheepishly, looking at his paws. "It's silly, but I think something bad is going to happen." To his surprise, Lionheart gave him a glum look, nodding his big head in understanding.

"I have the same feeling, young one," the golden tabby flicked his gaze to Bluestar, who had noticed their delay and paused, flicking her tail impatiently waiting for them to catch up. "between you and me, I think the both of us should keep an eye on her."

"Shouldn't you tell Whitestorm instead of me? I'm just an apprentice, what good am I going to do to protect her?" Dustpaw meowed, frowning. Lionheart purred lightly at his objection.

"I don't need to tell Whitestorm. He always keeps one eye on her."

Dustpaw looked up at the white warrior, and realized Lionheart was right. While Bluestar and Sandpaw were watching him and the golden tabby with impatient eyes, Whitestorm was looking straight at his lead. A look of intense concentration on his face, like he knew something no one else did. Dustpaw turned to respond to Lionheart, but the tom had already began moving again, and the brown apprentice had to run to catch up to the patrol again. It didn't take them but a few tail-lengths to reach the edge of the wood, to where it opened up to Sunningrocks. And Dustpaw's ears flattened against his head as soon as his eyes were able to see in the blinding sun. Around him, his clanmates had the same reaction. Standing on Sunningrocks, with a vole sitting dead at her feet, was Leopardfur. Dustpaw recognized her from that morning. She was glaring right into the trees, like she knew ThunderClan cats were there. Though Dustpaw didn't see them, he could smell the rest of her hunting patrol, hiding behind the rocks, ready for the battle to begin. A few seconds later, Bluestar lifted her head into a battle cry, and the ThunderClan patrol hurled themselves from the bushes and met the RiverClan patrol with fierce yowls.