Trickpaw leapt to his paws before Starchild even touched him. He glanced wildly around, having hear her every word to Sunpaw. "Hounds...she was right." Shivers clutched him as he recalled the dream.

.-''-.-''-.-''-.

No sooner had sleep closed Trickpaw's mind to the world than a white fox had appeared to him. She was taller than Sunpaw and thickly-furred like Queenie. Trickpaw had approached her, tail low. Some inner instinct told him to be as respectful as possible around this creature. The white fox had said nothing, only gazed at Trickpaw with her intense golden eyes.

It had been then that Trickpaw had noticed something was different about his surroundings. All traces of leafless trees, prickly bushes, and silver branches were gone, replaced with a swirling, wailing white. Trickpaw had shivered, feeling unnaturally cold. If this was a dream, why did it feel so foreign and icy? The lack of voices unnerved him. He spoke. "Who are you?"

"I am the Child of Moon," the fox replied, her voice even and cool, filled with that same snowy tone as Starchild's. Trickpaw shivered again.

"You're...Moonchild?"

"That I am. And you are the one with whom I must speak." Moonchild stood, swishing her tail for Trickpaw to do the same. The ginger tom had obeyed. "You have left your own world and entered my own. There is danger, danger unlike that which you have ever seen." A huge shape appeared in the swirling snow. "This is a hound, one I knew well in my life. Her name is Moonless Night, and she mothered your main foe."

Moonless Night was a massive, shaggy creature with black fur and wide, staring eyes. She barked something in a thick accent, her voice like the sound of snow falling from a branch. Trickpaw had stared curiously at her from behind Moonchild's white body. "What?" he mewed. "What did you say?"

"Said 'Fear pup. Fear grandpup.'"

Trickpaw blinked snow from his eyes. "Fear what?"

Moonless Night nodded to Moonchild and turned back into the blizzard, vanishing as quickly as she had appeared. The white fox turned to Trickpaw, her eyes calm. "Fear pup," she repeated. "Fear grandpup. Remember her scent, for it will help you find him."

"Wait...tell me more!" Trickpaw begged. "I can't do anything with what you've shown me. You've shown me a dead hound who can't speak straight. What's that going to help me with?"

But Moonchild's body was merging slowly with the falling snow. Soon only her eyes were visible. Her icy voice echoed in Trickpaw's ears: "There is something your ancestors forgot. Hope, Shadows, Fire, and Water will come together and save the Promised Clan. You know of this. But now I shall reveal that which was forgotten. Listen closely, for I shall not repeat..."

Her last words jarred Trickpaw's heart. Listen so closely, for she won't repeat. This is what was meant by meeting Moonchild!

"What? What did they forget?"

"Divided loyalties will be made one, and Hope will fail."

.-''-.-''-.-''-.

Trickpaw blinked in the glare of the den. Starchild was pacing back and forth anxiously. "My mother, Moonchild, contacted me in my dreams," she said. "She said that the only way to stop the hound Pack was to travel with you. But first, we must claim something of hers. Something that should be mine."

The ginger tom shrugged and padded after her, followed by his Clanmates. Starchild led them down the tunnel that led outside, but rather than leave through that door, she turned to the left and padded down a small passage. "Where are we going?" Promisepaw asked. Trickpaw flinched at the sound of her sweet voice. He knew she would never be his, and now her love tortured him.

"We must enter the lair of the Men. I promise we will not be long."

Trickpaw padded after the blue furball, wondering what was going on. Divided loyalties will be made one...and Hope will fail. Hope is Promisepaw. What could she possibly fail at? The chastity of the medicine cat? Will something kill her? His heart pounded nervously, and he failed to notice that Starchild had led him and his friends into a room heavy with the scent of Twolegs.

The milky gray fox padded up to a display case. She stretched up and placed a paw on the sturdy plastic. "Mother," she whispered in a choked voice. "What have they done to you?" She turned back to the cats. "Sunpaw. Is there any way you can get her pelt from this case?"

"You got it." Sunpaw stretched up and leapt onto another display, this one on the floor. He reached over and scored a long scratch down the seal of the box. "If some other cat wants to come up and help. One with strong claws."

"That's me!" mewed Wavepaw as he scrambled up to Sunpaw's side. Together, the two tomcats shoved the front of the case off. Sunpaw made the jump and snatched Moonchild's pelt from the box. He dropped it in front of Starchild. The young fox nodded her thanks and slipped the pelt over her head. Trickpaw blinked curiously. Moonchild?

Clothed in her late mother's pelt, Starchild did a passable imitation of the old fox. Starchild lifted her tail, at the same time lifting the pelt's tail. "Come. We must leave now."

And now, I must ask you to use your wonderful imaginations and ignore the laws of physics and stuff like that. Now, we all know that given their late start, there is no way in science that the "Prophecy Fulfillers" could have possibly caught up with the Pack and beat them to the camp. However, this is not science. This is not fact. This is fiction. And in fiction, you can do anything—even defy the laws of physics. Which is what I'm about to do. Bear with me. ;)

Oh, and for those who didn't catch it, Moonchild's paws are sort of...tied together. So the pelt will stay on Starchild now. And not fall off. Like it would do if the paws weren't tied together. These short, incomplete sentences are driving me nuts. To the fanfiction!

We're catching up, Trickpaw thought over and over again. We'll catch the Pack soon enough. And when we do, they'll pay for even thinking of destroying my Clan! He glanced briefly at Promisepaw running beside him. Her amber eyes held a warm glow. The ginger tom dropped his head again. He couldn't bear her anymore. He loved her...and she loved him...but their love was forbidden, and against the warrior code. And yet...there was another reason for his shame. He and the white queen held a dark secret.

Promisepaw was now holding Trickpaw's kits within her body.

The two young cats had mated a few days after they left Starchild's den, secretly and alone. No one else knew about the kits. Trickpaw relived the thrill of pride after the act had been completed, as well as the horrible guilt that had fallen immediately over both cats, in his mind. He swiped at a small plant in his fury. Why? Why had he done that?

The group of five cats and one fox had been traveling for nearly a moon, heading ever closer to PromiseClan territory. Trickpaw was grateful that Promisepaw's belly would not begin to swell for another few moons. The tom ran faster, pulling ahead to run beside Sunpaw. The gold-striped he-cat gave Trickpaw a friendly nudge.

"Something bothering you?" he asked in a low voice.

Trickpaw felt his heart twist painfully as he thought of his terrible secret. He shook his head firmly, paws trembling as they pounded across the mushy ground. Rain or snow had fallen on this stretch of moorland not too long ago, he decided. Behind him, Wavepaw stumbled and bounced high into the air. "Houndprint!" the silver cat yowled gleefully. Sunpaw looked back, nodding. Houndprint meant they had discovered the hounds' trail.

"We must be catching up with them," Shadowpaw meowed. "I think running through the night gave us an edge. One more night of that, and we should be right on their tails!" Wavepaw groaned, causing the others to purr happily. But not Trickpaw.

The former kittypet ran on leaden paws. Lately, he had been having second thoughts about Clan life. Was it really worth it? Yes, the Clan was held firm by its rules and beliefs, but they made everything so hard to do. He couldn't mate with the most beautiful she-cat. He had to hunt on an empty belly every day. He had to fight and risk his own life for a group of cats he was mostly unfamiliar with. Every day carried the threat of injury.

Kittypet life: Ah, how simple it was. You wake up and lounge around for a few hours. Then your housefolk feed you. You eat. More lounging. The occasional game of 'chase this' or 'explore that.' More food. More lounging. Sleep, possibly curled up in your housefolk's nest. The cycle repeated itself predictably and safely. Plus, the nest was always either warm and cozy, or cool and pleasant.

Kittypet. Clan cat. Kittypet. Clan cat. Trickpaw weighed the options. Kittypet. Clan cat. On one paw, you spend every day wondering how you're going to survive. On the other paw, you get food and water without moving a single muscle. Kittypet. Clan cat. Kittypet. Clan cat. Kittypet seemed more favorable. After all, his housefolk let him out every day. He could pretend he was still a Clan cat, right? Right. Anyways, there was no rule that said Promisepaw and the others couldn't visit him, was there? Not that Trickpaw knew of. He nodded to himself, a portion of the weight lifted from his furry chest.

Kittypet it was.

.-''-.-''-.-''-.

Trickpaw lay back, licking his paws after a small meal. He looked from cat to cat. "I have an announcement to make," he meowed. Promisepaw jolted, fear filling her eyes. Trickpaw blinked affectionately to comfort her. "I've decided on something." He took a slow, deep breath to calm his rapidly pulsing heart. "I'm going back to being a kittypet after we've saved our Clan."

Promisepaw let out a choked mew. Shadowpaw leapt up, fur bristling angrily. Wavepaw's eyes were wide with a look of pleading. Sunpaw coughed on a piece of fresh-kill. Starchild merely observed calmly. Finally, Shadowpaw spoke. "I knew it!" she spat furiously. "Once a kittypet, always a kittypet! StarClan stop me before I rip your—"

Wavepaw shouldered her aside. "But why, Trickpaw? Is it us? Why would you even think of doing something so—"

Sunpaw butted in, "Are we not good enough for you? Is PromiseClan not good enough for you?" Rage flashed in the tomcat's ice-blue eyes, an emotion that Trickpaw had yet to see in him. "Why would you give up your place in our Clan for something as pathetic as being a—"

"Trickpaw...how...how could you?" Promisepaw mewed sadly. She gave her belly a sorrowful look, and Trickpaw wondered if she would eat some herb to kill their kits as soon as possible. Starchild stood in the middle of the squalling cats, a calm figure.

"Cease this fighting," she barked evenly. "It is getting us nowhere. I do not know the ways of the Clan, but I can see quite plainly that Trickpaw's decision is not welcome amongst his fellow cats. Therefore, I shall remedy the situation. Trickpaw," and she turned to him, "from this moment on, you will no longer be a part of our group. I can see that your loyalty does not lie with these cats, but with some other allegiance. You will go now to become this 'kittypet.'"

Trickpaw opened his mouth to argue, to plead his case and beg mercy from the young fox. But Shadowpaw swiped out at him, her claws slicing the corner of his muzzle. "Run, kittypet," she growled. Trickpaw spun around and fled. He scrambled out of the small cove where the group had sheltered for the night and stood, his eyes searching. Promisepaw. "I love you," he whispered softly. "I love you now and will forever. Goodbye, Promisepaw." Shadowpaw's claws snaked out of the opening. Trickpaw swiped them away and ran.

.-''-.-''-.-''-.

Tired ginger paws plodded along the ground as a tail of the same hue dragged behind them. Trickpaw's frenzied sprint had been reduced to a crawl. He hadn't slept or eaten in days, only ran. His head hung low in defeat. Giving a low wail of pain and loss, the young tom collapsed in a dizzy heap. He lifted his head painfully to the star-strewn sky. "StarClan," he breathed. "I give up. You win. I've broken all your codes and laws. Now I'm lost and alone. Take me now...I give you my spirit." He dropped his head back onto the ground, shivering feverishly.

A moon had he been fleeing his friends. In the last week, his world had fallen apart. He was haunted by visions of his night romp with Promisepaw, the she-cat's face hovering through his thoughts. He became tortured and ill. And now he felt himself starting to fade away. I'll be with StarClan soon, he thought fuzzily.

He let his eyes close one last time and slowed his breathing. Yes, yes, yes...let it end. Let it all end. Sweet StarClan, yes. It's almost over now. Any minute now, I'll be dead. I'll see my mother. I'll be with her now. Wonderful...

A familiar-sounding rumble filled his ears, scattering thoughts of StarClan and death. Trickpaw opened one eye curiously and breathed a sigh of relief at the shape standing over him. He had no idea how he had made it, but he was home now.

.-''-.-''-.-''-.

"Trickster? Where have you been all this time? I'd given up on ever finding you alive!"