Yay! Another chapter! I really do like how this one turned out, and because no one really reads this story anyway, I'm going to post it without any regrets. XD

"Very good," Nightpelt called from his perch in the tree above. From his perspective, he could look right down into the bramble training area, where Cranepaw and Racingpaw were practicing their sneaking. "Now again. This time, try to find the tansy bush. Whoever gets there first wins."

Racingpaw, who was muddied up to his chin and tired, said, "He thinks we're invincible, I guess. We've been doing this all day long!"

It was leaf-fall now, but that had only increased the aggravation of the marsh. It sank up to Cranepaw's elbows, soaking his belly fur, staining the white to a deep brown the color of Racingpaw's fur.

Cranepaw knew he was coming along fantastically with his training. He could get within two kitten-steps of a vole without it even sensing him. He could blend his pelt into the dappled shade of a bramble without being detected. He could cover his scent so well that not even Racingpaw could identify him.

Though he hadn't had to prove that training in battle yet. The Clans were calm—well, the ones that mattered, namely ShadowClan. ThunderClan and RiverClan were always fighting over Sunningrocks, but that wasn't any concern of Cranepaw's.

Raggedstar's interest was focused solely on WindClan. He still ordered his cats onto their territory to steal prey, though Cranepaw wasn't sure why. WindClan were already weak. What was the point of weakening them even further? It would kill them. That would anger StarClan.

Clawpaw, who was stalking by, equally as muddy and twice as disgruntled, heard Racingpaw's comment and snapped, "Don't be a moron. This is for Raggedstar, remember. Don't you want to be a warrior?"

Cranepaw felt a bristle of irritation. "We're still two moons away from our ceremony. Shouldn't yours have been last moon, Clawpaw?"

Clawpaw's amber eyes lit with fury. He made an aggressive move towards Cranepaw but Racingpaw leapt to his side, his back arched, his fangs bared.

Clawpaw, either unwilling or unable to fight against two Clanmates, raised a lip in disgust and turned away.

"Stupid halfClan mongrel," he spat as he went, his fur up along his entire spine and neck. He glared at Cranepaw before turning away again, lifting his chin. "You think you're better than us? We're going to be real warriors and you'll just be a sorry excuse for ShadowClan! Just like your traitor mother."

That did it. Cranepaw, frustrated by the repetitiveness of this lesson and by the cramps in his shoulders from hunching, lost his temper. He leapt forward, ignoring any pretense of stealth, and sank his fangs into the loose tabby fur of Clawpaw's neck.

Clawpaw let out a high-pitched yowl of shock before spinning, flinging Cranepaw off. Cranepaw hit the ground with a puff of dust, the air crushed from his lungs. Without waiting for him to recover, Clawpaw was in the air and pouncing.

Clawpaw's claws sank into Cranepaw's belly. These weren't any practice moves: Clawpaw was out for blood. His claws curled into Cranepaw's fur like blackthorns, sinking right up to the skin, tearing a gash in the fur deep enough to bleed. Cranepaw yowled as Clawpaw savaged the skin there.

Past Clawpaw's tabby shoulder, Cranepaw could see Racingpaw leap onto the older apprentice's back, aiming for his ears. Green eyes blazing, he sank his teeth again and again into Clawpaw's ears, grabbing and pulling hard enough for the ear to split.

Clawpaw, enraged at being double-teamed, turned his attention to Racingpaw, leaving his neck and face open for attack.

It was a chance worth waiting for.

Cranepaw's claws sliced deeply into Clawpaw's muzzle, ripping through the skin and fur easily. Blood spattered everywhere, freckling Cranepaw's nose and cheek, hanging in heavy scarlet drops on his whiskers. He could taste it on his tongue, hot and coppery.

Nightpelt was yowling in the background but Cranepaw couldn't hear him. He was in the midst of a battle, his first one, and he would not lose.

Clawpaw retreated, shaking his head, the blood in his eyes blinding him, and Racingpaw and Cranepaw moved forward fluidly as one. Cranepaw waited for Racingpaw to stalk around behind Clawpaw before lunging again. He sank his claws and fangs into Clawpaw's thick fur, twisting him to the ground with his body weight.

Clawpaw managed to stay standing. He staggered backwards, trying to throw Cranepaw off. His hindquarters hit Racingpaw and he lost his balance. Flailing for footing, he fell to his side, allowing Racingpaw to swoop in, his mouth open, fangs bared—

And then Crowtail was there. She plucked her apprentice and threw him away as easily as if he was a bird's weight. "Stop it right now!" she shrieked, her blazing eyes turning on Cranepaw, her pupils sharp slits.

But Cranepaw wouldn't let go. This was good, this feeling, this adrenaline singing through his veins. He closed his eyes against Clawpaw's barrage of strikes, concentrating solely on retaining his grip.

Nightpelt's scent flooded over him, dark and earthy, and suddenly he was half off the ground, his hind paws churning the air as Nightpelt seized his tail.

"Let go, Cranepaw." He sounded remarkably calm. "Let go now."

Cranepaw growled and held tighter. He could feel the rasp of bone against his teeth. Clawpaw screeched as Cranepaw bit deeper.

"Cranepaw! Let go!"

At the sound of Nightpelt's anger, dark like a thunderhead, Cranepaw finally released Clawpaw.

Clawpaw skittered back a fox-length, his side scratched and bloody, his face a mess of torn fur and bright pink skin.

Cranepaw, hanging in Nightpelt's jaws, laughed at the sight. "That's what you get when you pick a fight with the wrong cat!" He licked his lips, tasting Clawpaw's blood, and called wildly, "Tastes like coward's blood to me! How's that better than halfClan?"

Crowtail, who had given Racingpaw a sound thrashing, turned on Nightpelt. "This is completely unacceptable, Nightpelt!" she hissed. "Clawpaw is injured! Look at his face! What will Pansypelt say when she sees her son's condition? And Raggedstar? Did you forget that Clawpaw is the leader's apprentice?"

Cranepaw, his paws still, his chest pounding, had forgotten all of that. His breath caught. Would they banish him for this? For attacking a Clanmate?

Racingpaw, lying flat on his belly a few paces away, looked like he was thinking similarly. His green eyes were round as moons as he looked at his mentor. "Crowtail—"

"I will deal more thoroughly with you later, Racingpaw." Her voice left no room for argument. "Nightpelt. An answer?"

Nightpelt sighed heavily, but his tail was lashing in quick, uneven movements. He was furious, even if he didn't look it. "Clawpaw, how did this happen?"

Clawpaw, who was coiled miserably, nursing his wounds, froze in mid-lick. "They both attacked me, Nightpelt. I didn't do anything wrong—"

"That's a lie!" Cranepaw yowled. "He insulted me, Nightpelt! He called me halfClan, that I wasn't a real ShadowClan warrior!"

Crowtail, her eyes gleaming nastily, said, "Both are true."

Cranepaw stared at her incredulously. Anger ripped through him like a wildfire. He was half-shocked that Crowtail didn't catch fire with the strength of it.

Nightpelt, thankfully, spoke up. Laying his tail on the dark gray she-cat's shoulder, he said lightly, "Not helpful, Crowtail. Cranepaw, what did Clawpaw tell you?"

Cranepaw gritted his teeth. Glaring straight at Clawpaw, he said, "Clawpaw told me I would never be a real ShadowClan warrior, that I was a sorry excuse for a ShadowClan cat…"

"With your behavior currently, he is correct." Crowtail made a move to go on but Nightpelt cut her off. She shot him a dirty look but remained silent, holding true to his position as senior warrior.

"I will deal with disciplining my own apprentice, Crowtail. For now, this training session is over." He turned sharp green eyes on Clawpaw, his black fur riled up along his shoulders. "Go straight to Yellowfang. Say nothing to anyone about what happened. I will talk to Raggedstar myself. Cranepaw, you have dishonored ShadowClan and myself by your behavior today. You and Racingpaw will be confined to camp for the next half-moon, taking care of the elders and the queens. If Yellowfang has need of you for herb-gathering or tick-picking, she will have you without complaint. That is your punishment."

Racingpaw, looking disgusted at the thought of plucking ticks off the elders, said, "What about Clawpaw? Doesn't he deserve punishment?"

Nightpelt said grimly, "He'll have it. Those wounds will leave scars."

Clawpaw, who had heard that, looked pained even more, his eyes filling with disappointment so strong that Cranepaw almost felt bad for him.

Cranepaw felt a burst of dark satisfaction at that. Clawpaw may become a so-called true warrior of ShadowClan but everyone will see his scarred face and know he lost a terrible battle.

They were led back to camp and Nightpelt deposited them outside the medicine den for Yellowfang to tend to. Crowtail, furious at her apprentice, left immediately without saying another word, her dark gray fur spiking.

Nightpelt stayed a moment longer, his green eyes on his apprentice. "Cranepaw, I am very disappointed in you. I trained you better than that. ShadowClan warriors are not vicious thugs like ThunderClan. We do not attack in full sight."

"Should I have waited until I was in the shadows to attack?" Cranepaw said, miserably defiant.

Nightpelt sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "You shouldn't attack a Clanmate at all, no matter what they say. You should be used to such petty taunts, Cranepaw. And you will get very used to them, since you will be cleaning out Littlebird's and Hollyflower's bedding for a long time." He turned and walked away, his lithe legs sweeping him across the clearing and into Raggedstar's den before Cranepaw could articulate a response.

Racingpaw watched him go darkly. "Nothing is fair," he spat. "We didn't do anything wrong. If he was any other cat, he'd be congratulating us on defending our honor." He licked a patch of torn fur on his shoulder, the blood staining his dark brown pelt even darker.

"Well, Crowtail's another cat and she certainly wasn't pleased." They walked into the medicine den, their heads close together as they whispered. "I guess she's going to strangle you more later."

Racingpaw rolled his eyes. "Let her try, that sour old—" He cut off with a weird keyed-up sound of glee when Clawpaw excited the medicine den, favoring one paw heavily.

Clawpaw's muzzle was wrapped in cobwebs. The portion that wasn't white was sticky with a strong-smelled poultice of something yellow and green. His eyes were swollen and watery from the strength of the herbs, which made him sniffle.

"What a look!" Racingpaw crowed. "I've never seen you looking better, Clawpaw. You're the spitting image of Runningpaw. Well," he went on sleekly, "if he had been stung by a bee. Or two. Or an entire hive."

Clawpaw opened his mouth angrily, then, seeming to think better of it, closed it and went on his way. Though he couldn't settle the raised spikes of fur on his back and shoulders or the angry, tense set of his ears. He disappeared into the apprentices' den, getting a shocked look from Rosepaw as he passed her.

Racingpaw laughed again, triumphant. "Can you believe it?" he said, turning to Cranepaw. "We actually did that. I never thought I'd feel so happy about getting punished. In fact, I think this is the pinnacle of our lives, Cranepaw."

"I would certainly hope not. I wanted the pinnacle of my life to be a little less painful."

The inside of the den was cool and green. It smelled spicy and strange, but somehow pleasant. Cranepaw didn't come into the medicine den often because of the smell and the company, which was rapidly approaching in the form of two disgruntled cats.

Runningpaw came over first, sniffling as usual. He didn't look anything like Racingpaw, even though they were littermates: Runningpaw's pelt was white splashed with gray, in wide cloud-like patches, and his eyes were weakly blue. He had whitecough, or something like it: he was always sneezing and bumping into things, like his eyes were too full of wateriness for him to see very well.

"Hello, Racingpaw," Runningpaw said, a measure of contempt for his brother in his tone. "Got yourself into trouble again?"

"Oh please." Racingpaw sighed as he lay on the ground of the den, stretching out his dark legs. "Like you ever get into trouble. What could you do, mix juniper with foxglove and give a poor cat a headache?"

"That's my apprentice, remember." Yellowfang made her appearance. Massive and scary with bright orange eyes and a flat face, she was a cat Cranepaw stayed away from. She towered over him, almost as tall as Nightpelt. "If you like your whiskers where they are, you'll keep your mouth shut. And while it's cute you're trying to pretend you're smart, do better next time: mixing up juniper and foxglove would kill a cat, not just give them a headache."

"But how can he be a medicine cat?" Racingpaw protested, ignoring the barb despite the visible, aggravated jerk of his tail at it. "He can't even cure his own cold!"

Runningpaw shot his brother a dirty look as he pressed a pawful of herbs against Racingpaw's dark shoulder, pushing a little harder than necessary. Racingpaw hissed in a breath, shooting his brother a dirty look.

Cranepaw felt a pang of fear as Yellowfang approached, a bundle of herbs hanging from her jaws. "Calm down," she said, her voice raspy. "I won't hurt you."

Cranepaw held perfectly still as she treated his ear, which had been ripped at the tip. "Will it grow back?"

"Probably not." She licked the crust of blood off of it, peering closely. She smelled funny, like herbs and the salty tang of blood. "You'll have a scar."

Cranepaw sighed heavily.

Yellowfang purred. "Worse things have happened. Remember your friend, Clawpaw."

"Clawpaw's not my friend," Cranepaw said sharply.

Yellowfang made a noise of compliance. "Nor anyone else's, I fear. No one but Brokentail and Blackfoot." Her voice was even but Cranepaw wondered if he was just imagining the undercurrent in it. Medicine cats were supposed to be above the Clan life but perhaps Yellowfang was not.

So others have noticed Clawpaw's new best friends besides Rosepaw. Cranepaw looked away uncomfortably.

Yellowfang stepped back, satisfaction in her orange eyes. "Good. You're done." She turned to Racingpaw, who was still stretched out and being treated. "Your friend needs more time. You go on and start your punishment. I'll tend to Racingpaw."

Cranepaw didn't think twice about that. Shooting Racingpaw a sympathetic glance, he fled out of the medicine den and into the clearing.

Brokentail and Blackfoot were nowhere in view, which was a relief. Yarrowstripe was padding to the fresh-kill pile, Whitewind at his side. Her tiny kits were stumbling along beside her, their paws stumpy. Both were dark-pelted and still blue-eyed. He'd met them before but she hadn't named them yet.

Whitewind looked up as he approached, her eyes lighting. "Cranepaw," she purred, licking where the poultice had dripped down his ear. "I heard the news. How could you and Racingpaw get into so much trouble?" She sounded chiding but not disappointed, which was relieving. Her kits looked up at Cranepaw with huge blue eyes.

Behind her, Yarrowstripe said, "Clawpaw's been howling it around the clearing to anyone who'll listen. It looks like you don't have many fans, Cranepaw."

Cranepaw felt a sour taste come across his tongue. "Oh well," he said, more sharply than he'd meant. "I didn't have many of those in the first place."

"Oh, Cranepaw." Whitewind's eyes, green like Racingpaw's, were sympathetic. "Don't be like that. You have friends in the Clan; don't think otherwise." Her eyes drifted behind his shoulder, fixing on some point there. "Maybe even more. Who knows." Her eyes twinkling, she pressed her nose to his once more, then turned and walked away back to the nursery, calling for her kits to follow.

Watching her go, feeling confused, he didn't even notice Rosepaw pad up beside him.

"Clawpaw's very angry with you," she informed him, her voice soft.

His stomach twisting from her nearness, he said, "And you?" Her soft scent wreathed in his nose, making it hard to keep a straight thought.

She was silent for a moment, her head to the side. Then she reached out and touched the tip of his ripped ear with her nose, very softly. "I think that you protected yourself. You defended your honor. That's admirable to me."

Blissfully happy, he watched her walk away, a litheness to her walk that was hypnotizing.

She was so beautiful. Why couldn't he sound smarter around her? It seemed like every time he tried to talk to her, he stumbled on his words or his tongue or his own stupidity. He shook his head from side to side, trying to clear it.

He walked to a sunny spot in the middle of camp where he could see both the entrance to the camp and Raggedstar's den. Nightpelt hadn't returned yet; clearly they were still thinking over a punishment worthy of attacking a Clanmate, aside from half a moon's worth of torture. Cranepaw's belly roiled with the thought of it.

Yellowfang pressed out from the medicine den, her voice low as she commanded something to Runningpaw. Her eyes caught Cranepaw's from across the clearing and she nodded to him once before ducking out of the camp.

Out for herbs, he thought, his eyes heavy. His ear and side stung from Clawpaw's blows, though they were easily ignorable. He lay his head on his paws, trying to steady his breathing. The fur of his cheek smell like Rosepaw. It was…nice.

Someone screamed.

Cranepaw jolted awake, unaware that he'd been sleeping. It was dark now, liquid shadows pouring across the camp's floor.

In the center stood Brightflower. Her mouth was open in an endless wail, her fur standing on end all over her body. Between her paws were two small bodies, curled close in the dust.

Cranepaw, with a dizzying sense of falling, recognized those dark pelts: Volepaw and Mosspaw. He ran forward.

The Clan had gathered quickly by the time he'd arrived. Nightpelt and Crowtail were at the front, closely pressed by Archeye, Cinderfur, Ashfur, Brackenfoot, and Littlebird.

Whitewind let out a cry of horror at the sight of the apprentices, their pelts torn and bloody with a warrior's set of wounds. "Yellowfang! Yellowfang!"

"Yellowfang won't help these apprentices." It was Brokentail, stalking forward. There was blood around his mouth and on his paws, and Cranepaw thought to himself before he could help it, Yes. Yes. Proof. Finally, unquestionable proof that he murdered these cats: his own apprentice.

But Blackfoot was watching with undisguised horror. His eyes were so wide that Cranepaw could see the whites all the way around the yellow. He stood trembling near his apprentice's small, still body, pressing his muzzle against her side and talking to her, begging her in a low, rough voice to wake up.

Brokentail laid his tail across his friend's shoulders, his eyes sparking. "Bring her in!" he commanded, sounding startlingly like Raggedstar, like a leader.

And from the den where they kept prisoners when they had them came Yellowfang, flanked by Clawpaw and Stumpytail. She was ragged-pelted and bleeding, limping heavily on one paw.

Raggedstar, tearing himself away from the apprentices, shouted, "What is this? Brokentail, explain yourself!" He was shaking with the strength of his anger, his fur fluffed out to twice its normal size. "How dare you take the medicine cat captive! StarClan will—"

"StarClan will approve!" Brokentail said, his yowl somehow triumphant. "They will sing praises of me because I have stopped history from repeating. Yes," he said, sweeping on, turning to face his Clanmates. "I have snuffed out another Blackflower, another poisonous medicine cat. I found Yellowfang over the bodies of these apprentices, her claws soaked with blood! She attacked them and then watched them die!"

Cranepaw felt his heart stop. He whipped to Yellowfang, who had slumped to the ground, held down by the pain of her wounds. Beside her, Runningpaw had dashed to her side, pressing his nose against her pelt.

In a voice that was so distorted with rage it was almost unrecognizable, she snarled, "You are a liar and a coward, Brokentail. I wouldn't touch a hair on a ShadowClan apprentice's head! I did not do this."

Raggedstar looked stunned with disbelief. It was the first time since Cranepaw could remember that he looked unsure. "Brokentail, how—"

"I saw her myself, Father," Brokentail said, cutting the leader off. "She had a look of hatred upon her face as she watched them in their last death-throws. Perhaps she wished to rid the Clan of the younger generation. Perhaps she wanted practice so she could kill her own apprentice in time."

At that, Runningpaw froze in his ministrations. He backed up several hasty steps. He looked to Yellowfang, his eyes wide. "It's not true, is it?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Of course it's not, you moron!" Yellowfang snapped. "I am a medicine cat. I would not raise my claws against anyone, let alone my own Clan! I found those kits in the training hollow and I was seeing if they were okay, if they were still breathing after all that blood…" She closed her eyes and shivered, agony in the gesture.

"But you were a warrior before," Brokentail said, his expression alight with viciousness. He turned to Raggedstar. "She might have grown tired of healing and wanted to go back to killing!"

Brightflower, who had been moaning over the bodies of her dead kits, turned to Yellowfang. Her stance was aggressive, her head bent. "Murderer," she hissed. "You killed my kits!"

"No!" Yellowfang's eyes were wide and round as eggs now. "No, I didn't do it! It wasn't me! Raggedstar—"

But Littlebird chimed in first, her graying fur bristling. "How could you? We trusted you with our lives, Yellowfang! This is how you repay us? With young blood?"

"I have done nothing wrong!" Yellowfang yowled. "Please. Raggedstar. Cloudpelt." She sounded desperate now as she turned to each cat. "Cinderfur, you were my mentor when I was a warrior apprentice. Tell them! Tell them I wouldn't do this!"

But the old tom, a pawstep away from the elders' den, simply looked sad. "I never thought you would be capable of this, Yellowfang."

Yellowfang stared in disbelief.

Cranepaw, unable to watch any longer, spoke up. "Did anyone else see her? I don't think that—"

"It doesn't matter what you think, halfClan," Hollyflower snarled. "Of course you'd want to weaken ShadowClan so your RiverClan kin can thrive! Look what you did to Clawpaw!"

Cranepaw, struck into horrified and humiliated silence, turned to Yellowfang, unable to do anything else to help her. Shame burned through his pelt.

She watched him through the throng of yowling, hissing warriors. In her eyes, Cranepaw saw the truth. One look to Brokentail confirmed it.

He was giddy, euphoric. A head above the other cats and soaring from this triumph, he looked at Yellowfang like she was a piece of prey: eager and greedy. Not the face of a mentor mourning his apprentice.

The face of a murderer.

"Fine," Yellowfang said quietly. She stood, pushing aside Clawpaw roughly. "No one will hear the truth so… I will go."

Raggedstar stepped forward, between Yellowfang and the Clan. Cranepaw couldn't see his face but there was a strange thinness to his tone when he asked, "Does this mean you accept the punishment?" When she said nothing, he added in a grim tight tone, "You are banished. If any ShadowClan cat catches you on our territory, they have my permission to kill you. Because of this atrocity, you have become a traitor to everything ShadowClan holds dear. Don't show your face here again or you won't live long enough to regret it."

A burst of agony crossed Yellowfang's face before she hid it. Walking, stately, to the exit to camp, she turned and said in a suddenly deep voice, "ShadowClan will regret this betrayal. Before the season ends, you will experience tragedy beyond your most terrifying nightmares." Then she left, limping slightly, until her dark form was swallowed up by shadows.

In the several heartbeats of tense silence after these words, Littlebird spoke up. "Look at her, trying to pretend she speaks with StarClan. Murderer."

"Shut up, Littlebird," Cloudpelt growled.

The elder shot him a filthy look.

Cranepaw found Racingpaw through the crowd. He was limping, too, his back a plastered mess of herbs and juices.

"Cranepaw," he gasped. "Can you believe it? Yellowfang and those apprentices…"

"No," he said shortly. "I don't believe it."

Racingpaw turned to him very quickly. His eyes were solemn, searching. It wasn't a normal Racingpaw expression. "You think Brokentail did it." It wasn't a question.

Cranepaw turned and dipped his head below his shoulders, eyeing the surroundings watchfully. Behind Racingpaw, the Clan was still bickering, still arguing, the bodies of the two fallen forgotten in their pettiness.

Cranepaw, clenching his jaw, nodded.

Racingpaw let out a long breath and was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke: "What do we do?"

Cranepaw turned and looked at Brokentail. His moment of ecstasy was gone now, replaced by a genuine-looking mournfulness. He even brushed Mosspaw's ears gently, closing his eyes as if in pain.

Cranepaw didn't believe in for a heartbeat. "We stop him," he said darkly. He turned to Racingpaw. "At all costs."

He waited for Racingpaw's expression to change to disgust. He knew what Cranepaw was implying, what it meant. It meant getting his paws bloody, turning into something irretrievable. A traitor to ShadowClan. A murderer, just like Brokentail.

But Racingpaw was remarkably calm when he replied easily, as if this was a normal conversation, "What do you need?"

Cranepaw let out a sharp breath of shock. He hadn't expected Racingpaw to agree so quickly. "You…you're going to—"

Racingpaw cut him off. Leaning forward, his green eyes glittering with pain and something edged like hunger, he said again, "What do you need?"

Wooo~ Only two more chapters left~

What up with the lack of reviews in all things Warriors these days? Has everyone moved on from this fandom or something? I don't particularly care about reviews since I write mostly for myself (and Fwirl) but it's just rather strange to me. All the fics I've been seeing are really low on review count. Peculiar. Very peculiar.

Anyway.

R&R~

Shadow