Thank you, Meg Ducky! Glad you're enjoying it so far.

Written by Stormrush

The scene shifted, and Mudwhisker and Jazzstar found themselves sitting inside Beechstar's empty den. Mudwhisker's gaze swept over the ThunderClan camp. Familiar to him though it was, he had never seen it this way, shrunk by the height of the little cave. He watched a big ginger tom poke his head out of the elders' den, a dappled brown she-cat sniff at the fresh-kill pile, Nightpaw push into the apprentices' den—but that wasn't right. Hadn't she just left it?

"We can travel in time as we please," Jazzstar explained, anticipating his question. "I've taken us back a few moments. You should hear this conversation."

She quieted as Ivystar and Beechstar appeared in the cave's entrance, blocking Mudwhisker's view. Suddenly Mudwhisker realized how small the den was; he pressed against the cave wall to let the leaders pass. It wasn't enough; Ivystar walked straight into—and through—him. Mudwhisker flinched, but he felt nothing. Somehow that was stranger than any sensation he could have imagined.

"Preparing your apprentices for an invasion, are you?" mewed Ivystar with an amused twitch of her whiskers.

"Nightpaw is eager," replied Beechstar. "Still, that's no excuse for her behavior. Again, I apologize—"

"Oh, shut up, Beechstar," Ivystar broke in, swatting him affectionately with her tail. "You've apologized twice already. If I have to hear you apologize a third time, we're going to use up poor Sunstripe's supply of herbs." She glanced at her foreleg, which was swathed in cobwebs. "He's got to be low on marigold as it is, seeing how he insists on treating every little scrape as though it were life-threatening."

Mudwhisker stared at the two leaders in shock. He had never seen such a display of camaraderie between cats of different Clans. If Smokestar tried talking to Elmstar that way, he'd lose an ear. Or his life.

He turned to Jazzstar. "It was a time of peace, and they were old friends," she explained, a note of longing in her voice.

Mudwhisker shook his head in wonder. In his time, other Clans were rivals at best, and ShadowClan had been an outright enemy. He had been killed by a ShadowClan warrior; he could still feel the burn as her claws raked over his belly. Even casual friendship with a ShadowClan cat would have been borderline treasonous.

In his astonishment he had missed part of the conversation. "You're a special case," Beechstar was mewing. "Now tell me, Ivystar. Why are you really here?"

All traces of humor drained from Ivystar's expression. "I came to warn you about a group of rogues. They had been badgering our border patrols—not hurting them, just mocking them, telling them Clan life was stupid. We always chased them off, but we thought they were harmless.

"Until yesterday," she continued, eyes dark. "A patrol stumbled across a group of them at the greenleaf Twolegplace. My warriors fought bravely, but there were too many. They killed Breezepaw, and Frostwhisker isn't sure Falcontail will make it." She seemed to have shrunk while talking, huddled in on herself and miserable. "I thought I should tell you, since they were last seen so close to your border."

Beechstar's eyes were wide with horror. "I'm so sorry," he murmured. "Do you know how many of them there are, or where their camp is?"

"Their camp is somewhere north of our territory. More than that, I couldn't tell you. As for their numbers…" Ivystar trailed off. "We aren't sure, but we think there must be at least a dozen."

"A dozen?" mewed Beechstar.

Ivystar nodded. "It's hard to be sure, since the reports are coming from so many different cats, but if all of them are right, ten have been seen on or near our territory. Those ones talked as if there were more we hadn't seen. They could be lying, of course, but I'd rather err on the side of caution."

Beechstar's expression darkened. "Most rogues don't like to live with so many other cats. It's what makes them rogues. There must be something in it for them, or the group would have already dissolved."

"My thoughts exactly," mewed Ivystar. "And now you see why I'm worried."

Beechstar paused for a moment, tilting his head in thought. "Do you have enough warriors to lead an attack on their camp?"

Ivystar sighed. "And now you see the real problem. I'd want at least a dozen fully trained warriors to match them. I have that—as long as I don't mind having to carry Falcontail to the battle, and leaving no warriors to guard the camp. For now, all I can do is send out larger patrols and hope to deter them that way."

"Let us help, then," urged Beechstar.

Ivystar looked as if she was about to argue. "Beechstar—"

"It only makes sense. You believe they're a threat to ThunderClan as well, or you wouldn't have come here. This isn't charity, Ivystar. We both want them gone. I'm offering for my Clan's sake as much as yours."

"Fine," Ivystar mewed grudgingly. "What did you have in mind?"

"We can take seven warriors each," Beechstar meowed. "For untrained rogues, that should be enough, even if they outnumber us. I'd prefer to send scouts ahead of us to find their camp, but we can't risk them being caught. We'll have to find them and drive them out all at once."

Ivystar mulled it over. "Fair enough. Let's meet at sunhigh where your Twolegpath and mine join, the day after tomorrow."

Beechstar nodded. "It's been good to speak to you," he mewed. "For all that I wish the circumstances were better."

Ivystar grimaced. "I came to warn you, and somehow I would up groveling at your paws for help."

"You did no such thing." Beechstar brushed his tailtip against her shoulder affectionately. "I've never known you to beg, Ivystar. Even when it would been prudent."

Ivystar huffed a laugh. "I didn't ask your opinion."

"I've never known you to do that, either."

Ivystar shook her head. "The things I put up with. See you at the Twolegpath. Don't kill any rogues without me." She got to her paws and padded out of the den.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

At the entrance, Ivystar paused and glanced back. "Beechstar?"

"Yes?"

"You said Nightpaw was just made an apprentice today."

"She was."

"How did she know ShadowClan's scent, then?"

Beechstar opened his mouth. Closed it again.

"Might want to look into that," Ivystar mewed, and disappeared around the corner.

"How did she know?" Mudwhisker asked Jazzstar.

"Nightblaze… knew things, sometimes," Jazzstar replied slowly. "I couldn't tell you how. She always got the details wrong—mistaking Ivystar for Blackstar, for example—but she had knowledge she couldn't reasonably have had. You'll see."

Beechstar was climbing down the tumble of rock that led to the Highledge when Nightpaw darted out of the apprentices' den, shouting, "Firestar! Firestar!"

But she just called him Beechstar, Mudwhisker thought. Are her episodes really so random?

Beechstar leapt the last tail-length to ground and called, "Nightpaw? Who are you talking to?"

Nightpaw bounded up to him. "It's time we train! I want you to show me how to fight."

Beechstar blinked, taken aback. "It's your first day as an apprentice. I'm going to teach you about hunting."

"Okay," Nightpaw meowed, "but you just saw I could fight, right?"

"Nightpaw, you took one swipe at a cat who wasn't fighting back. Furthermore, you took one swipe at an ally. I'd hardly call that fighting."

"Okay," mewed Nightpaw.

Beechstar stared at her for a long moment as if waiting for her to argue.

Nightpaw looked expectantly back at him.

Beechstar shook his head in bewilderment. "Let me talk to Whiteflower first. Then we'll be on our way."

He trotted over to a gray-and-white she-cat who was standing near the camp entrance, Nightpaw trailing obediently behind him. Whiteflower's eyes widened as he briefly explained the rogue situation and asked her to find seven warriors for the expedition. Nightpaw didn't seem to be paying any attention; her eyes were glazed in the same way they had been when she attacked Ivystar. It made Mudwhisker uneasy.

Finally they left the camp, and Nightpaw perked back up. She thrummed with excitement like any normal apprentice on her first outing. Her eyes were bright and clear as she and Beechstar reached a grassy glade.

"We'll start with the hunter's crouch," Beechstar mewed, dropping into position.

"Come on! That's too easy!" Nightpaw yelled.

Beechstar's eyes narrowed in annoyance. He started to reply, but broke off in a pained hiss when a black dark blur raked down his flank.

Mudwhisker's mouth dropped open. No apprentice should be able to move that quickly, least of all on their first day of training.

"I told you she knew things," Jazzpaw meowed.

"Keep your claws sheathed, Nightpaw," snapped Beechstar, sitting up. He craned his neck to inspect his flank; a thin trickle of blood ran through his fur. "That's the second time today you've wounded a friendly cat."

"Really?" mewed Nightpaw, her eyes wide.

"What in StarClan's—yes, really," Beechstar growled. His fur was beginning to stand up; he took a deep breath and it flattened again.

"Oh my gosh, really?" Nightpaw cried, looking horrified. "I'm like Scourge?"

"'Gosh'?" meowed Mudwhisker.

"A Twoleg word," Jazzstar responded.

A puzzled frown crept over Beechstar's face. He said nothing, watching Nightpaw carefully.

Nightpaw stood with her ears pricked and her eyes on him, just as though he were talking. "Oh, okay. Thanks," she mewed after a moment. She relaxed.

All the anger had left Beechstar. His gaze was full of concern. "It's worse than I thought," he murmured.

Then Nightpaw leapt at him. Beechstar let out a startled yelp and slid to the side, narrowly avoiding being tackled. Nightpaw spun around and came at him again. Beechstar swatted her aside with ease and she tumbled to the ground, but he had to pounce on her to keep her there. Nightpaw wriggled underneath him.

Earlier Beechstar's anger had blinded him to her skill, but now Mudwhisker watched realization dawn on his face. He cocked his head and mewed, "Where did you learn that?"

Nightpaw didn't reply.

Beechstar shook his head in confusion for the second time that day. "You did say you could fight." He let her up and slipped into a defensive stance. "Let's fight, then."

Mudwhisker looked on in amazement as the sun crept higher in the sky. Nightpaw's moves weren't particularly clever, and were obviously unpracticed, but she would have made short work of him on his first day as an apprentice. By the time the sun touched the horizon, she and Beechstar were both panting with exertion.

Without warning, Nightpaw sat down heavily. "Hey, Firestar, can we hunt now?" she mewed. "I'm kind of hungry."

"Not surprising, after all that hard work you did." Beechstar gave her a calculating look. "Show me what you've got." He padded into the trees, beckoning Nightpaw with his tail.

Nightpaw began to look dejected after scaring off two sparrows in the row. "Don't worry," Beechstar mewed around a squirrel. "It's only your first time hunting. Your crouch is certainly better than mine was at your age."

"Second," Nightpaw corrected absently. A feather had drifted down as the second sparrow flew away; she speared it with a claw and stared at it glumly.

Beechstar dropped the squirrel. "You've been hunting before? Was that when you picked up ShadowClan's scent?"

Nightpaw gave him a curious look. "I had my first time when I was a little kit. You and I snuck out together. It's why you chose me as your apprentice. Don't you remember?"

"Oh. Yes—yes, I, yes, that's it," Beechstar stammered. "Of course. How could I have forgotten?"

"He's playing into her delusions," Mudwhisker mewed. "Is that a good idea?"

Jazzstar shrugged. "Correcting her wasn't helping. I suppose he saw no reason not to try it."

In the end, Nightpaw managed to take an old vole by surprise. She looked ready to burst with pride as she carried it into the camp. She dropped it on the fresh-kill pile and turned to Beechstar. "What now?"

Beechstar deposited his squirrel and a robin onto the pile. "Now you need to eat," he purred in amusement. "There's a whole day of training tomorrow."

"Alright. See you in the morning, Firestar!" Nightpaw snatched her vole back from the pile and trotted toward the apprentices' den.

"Kits," Beechstar muttered with a twitch of his whiskers. "Where do they get their energy?"

"They steal it from their elders," mewed Whiteflower, padding up behind him. "Were you going to eat that robin?"

"I'm more in the mood for mouse." In unspoken agreement, they grabbed their meals and sat down beneath the Highledge to eat together.

When Beechstar had swallowed the last bite of his mouse, he asked, "Did you get enough volunteers to fight the rogues?"

Whiteflower spat out a feather. "The trouble was getting down to seven. Ten warriors volunteered, and Foxpaw and Daisypaw insisted they were old enough to go too. I had to tell them their job was protecting the camp before they'd leave off."

"That is their job," Beechstar pointed out.

Whiteflower snorted. "They've been apprentices for two moons. They'd be worse than useless if anyone attacked and you know it. Protecting the camp is my job." She suddenly changed the subject. "And how was your little experiment's first day out?"

Beechstar's tailtip twitched; Mudwhisker got the feeling he didn't like hearing Nightpaw called an experiment. "Nightpaw did well," he replied coolly. "Better than I did on my first day. It seems she learned a thing or two on her own." He hesitated. "She mentioned sneaking out of the camp as a kit. Do you know anything about that?"

"No." Whiteflower took a final bite of her robin and pushed it aside. "That kit isn't subtle, even for a kit, and someone is always at the entrance to the camp. She would never have gotten past my guards. Must be another of her delusions."

"Must be." Beechstar got to his feet. "Thank you. I'll see you in the morning, Whiteflower." Whiteflower dipped her head as he padded away.

The scene changed. Nightpaw was curled up in the apprentices' den, staring at the rocky ceiling of the cave. She glanced over to Jazzpaw, whose eyes were tightly shut, though her breathing suggested she was awake. "Do you think we'll ever be up there?"

"Nightpaw," Jazzpaw groaned, "shut up."

"Yeah," Nightpaw breathed. She looked back at the ceiling. Her eyes, full of warmth, began to slide shut.

Then she jumped up and yowled, "NOT IN THAT WAY, YOU SICKOS!" and woke half the camp.