Sorry I skipped last Sunday's chapter. My family's been hit pretty hard by two tragedies this week. My dad got laid off at his job and my grandpa had a bad fall and got put in the hospital, so my updating obviously was put on hold. To make up for it, this chapter is extra long.

Cranepaw and Racingpaw got straight to planning after that. They spent endless days plotting and scheming, talking in whispers in the dead of night when they wouldn't be overheard. Everything they had wasn't going to work: pit-traps and luring Brokentail to ThunderClan territory and hoping they'd take care of him, trying to get him out on the moors or on the Thunderpath or—

"Argh." Cranepaw put his head in his paws, frustration surging along his pelt like an electric current. "This is impossible."

Racingpaw said smoothly, "It's not. We're just coming at it from the wrong angle. It has to be something that no one will suspect."

"Do you know how crazy you sound?"

"Think about it," Racingpaw insisted. His green eyes were reflecting the weak moonlight above the tattered thorn they were in. It was almost time for the next Gathering, when hopefully Brokentail would be dead. "We have to think like Brokentail. Now where does he go by himself that we can catch him?"

Cranepaw thought about that for a long moment. "He doesn't go anywhere by himself. He's always with Blackfoot."

"So we need to separate them." Racingpaw placed his paws close together, squinting down at them thoughtfully. "If we can lure Blackfoot away from Brokentail, then—" He jerked his paws apart, his claws digging into the soil.

"But how? We're going to need help. And no one's going to help us if we tell them what we're trying to do."

"There's someone we could ask." Racingpaw's eyes flashed up to Cranepaw's and away again. "If you…if you feel up for it."

Cranepaw's heart dropped. "You can't possibly mean—"

"Think about it, Cranepaw," he insisted again, leaning forward. "Everybody trusts her. No one would ever think she'd—"

"We are not involving Rosewing in this," Cranepaw hissed. "She just became a warrior. I'm not about to take that away from her. Are you?"

The thought of the gentle she-cat with her paws stained with blood—unimaginable. Cranepaw would rather die than force that kind of guilt onto her. Rosewing didn't have it in her to kill Brokentail—and Cranepaw didn't think he did, either. But for the good of ShadowClan—to free them from Brokentail's horrifying reign of future terror—he had to do something. He had to make a move.

Rosewing would be kept away from it, away from him. He'd already decided that a long time ago.

Racingpaw looked unhappy at that. He flipped his tail behind him, his mouth a soft frown. "Then my mother, maybe. Whitewind would—"

Cranepaw's head was aching as Racingpaw went over his plan, trying to find a solution. But nothing was going to work. They were either going to have to get lucky or they were going to fail. Failure couldn't happen—it couldn't. For Silversong.

Eventually, they had to return. Training would begin at dawn again. Even though their mentors had been really nailing down on their training—it was almost time for them to get their names, after all—Cranepaw and Racingpaw had managed to keep on track, despite their nighttime planning.

The apprentice's den felt very hollow and lonely without Rosewing. Wetpaw and Brownpaw were the newest addition—Featherstorm's kits—but they did little to fill the den. They were tiny, undersized.

Raggedstar, who had grown more suspicious and twitchy all of a sudden, had given them their apprentice names two moons too early, listening to Brokentail's advice. Why, Cranepaw didn't know. Perhaps it was because of Cloudpelt's recent battle with whitecough. The elders were already whispering that the deputy wasn't going to make it, that he was too old to combat the strength of the illness. Runningnose was trying his best to stave it off but he was barely a medicine cat.

Featherwhisker, the medicine cat of ThunderClan, had apparently taken pity on the poor cat and come to escort him to the Moonstone for his name. Yellowfang was still missing, though Cranepaw had heard rumors she was holing up somewhere in ThunderClan territory. He hoped she was okay, especially since leaf-bare was on its way. Prey would be fine for ShadowClan—they had Carrionplace, after all—but he didn't know how ThunderClan would fare.

Wetpaw stirred as Cranepaw settled into his nest, his small round face fuzzy with sleep. "Cranepaw?"

"Yeah?"

Wetpaw yawned, his tongue curling. "Where did you go?"

"Uh." Cranepaw exchanged a quick glance with Racingpaw, who made a frantic gesture with one paw. "We were…collecting herbs for Runningnose. They need to be picked at night, otherwise they're no good."

Maybe it was the lateness of the night or the fact that he was barely conscious, but Wetpaw accepted that without question. His head thudded back down in his nest and he curled his dark brown tail close. He was asleep a few heartbeats later.

Cranepaw let out a short breath of relief. The fewer cats who knew what was going on, he thought as he circled into his nest, the better.

XXXXXXXXX

"Wake up." The voice wasn't Racingpaw's or one of the younger apprentices. It was Rosewing.

As Cranepaw struggled to his paws, highly conscious of the fact that the fur on his head was standing straight up and his whiskers were plastered to the side of his face, Rosewing waited patiently in the entrance. Racingpaw, Wetpaw, and Brownpaw were already gone.

"What's going on?" Cranepaw mumbled, trying to quickly fix his fur with a few swift licks.

Rosewing's eyes were somber. "Cloudpelt's dead," she said shortly, disappearing back into the clearing.

Cranepaw's heart froze. Without another lick, he scrambled out of the den, loping up beside Rosewing.

Cloudpelt's body lay in the middle of the camp. The elders had already arranged his limbs into a natural position. It looked like he was simply sleeping, if not for the crust of sickness that still clung to the corners of his eyes and nose, and the fact that his chest was completely, chillingly still.

Cranepaw couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched, mouth gaping, as Runningnose stepped forward, towards Raggedstar. The leader was staring at his deputy's body, looking like he couldn't believe his eyes. The expression made Raggedstar seem very old, very weak: something Cranepaw had never thought him before. Even now he could pick out the gray hairs on his leader's muzzle, which seemed even more prominent than before.

Crowtail and Nightpelt were beside Cranepaw, bending down to press gently licks against Cloudpelt's cold fur.

"He was a good warrior," Nightpelt said, his voice low. "A good friend. He always wanted the best for ShadowClan."

"He was my first apprentice," Crowtail said, and she sounded sad and soft for the first time. Sorrow surged in her eyes. "Little Cloudpaw. I never thought he would be good because of his white pelt but he showed me. He showed all of us what it meant to be a true warrior of ShadowClan."

The elders rubbed Cloudpelt's fur with sweet-smelling herbs but it didn't completely cover the bitter scent of sickness. Cranepaw stared, aghast. How had the deputy's illness gotten so bad that no one noticed? That no one tried to help him?

Clearly he wasn't the only one thinking that.

Crowtail had pulled herself out of her grief and turned blazing eyes on Runningnose. "Why didn't you heal him?" she demanded, her fur riled up along her back. "You could have cured him! Why didn't you?"

Runningnose's eyes went wide. "I-I did the best I could! He was just sick, so sick—"

"Yellowfang could have fixed him!"

"Don't you dare mention her name!" Brightflower went to Runningnose's side, pulling the young tom against her flank like a mother would. Glaring at Crowtail, she spat, "That traitor would have killed Cloudpelt just to spite ShadowClan! Runningnose tried his hardest but StarClan wanted Cloudpelt. That's the only option I see."

"Or Runningnose is just incompetent," Archeye spat. He eyed the medicine cat with distaste. "Cloudpelt was too young to die. He could have been the next leader of ShadowClan!"

"Cloudstar," Crowtail said softly, so quietly that Cranepaw wasn't sure anyone else heard her. Her eyes were closed, her ears pinned back. Her fur was a darker shade than his, coal to his smoke. With her eyes shut, she looked more severe than usual, the bones of her face sticking through her fur.

Nightpelt touched her shoulder with his tail gently. "He didn't die painfully. It was easy. Like sleeping."

Crowtail nodded, her eyes still tightly closed. She didn't look comforted.

Nightpelt noticed, too. His eyes sparking with pity, he turned to Raggedstar. "A new deputy must be chosen."

"Yes," Blackfoot said, speaking up for the first time. He was standing beside Brokentail, who had been remarkably silent. "Before Cloudpelt's spirit has left us."

Brokentail wasn't looking at Cloudpelt; his eyes were on his father. With his head below his shoulders, his orange eyes burning like lit embers, he looked hungry, starving, but not in a normal way. His entire body was radiating tension, palpable as heat.

Cranepaw could barely stomach looking at him.

This was so much like when Foxheart died that Cranepaw felt sick. Brokentail had stared at his father this greedily then, too, before Foxheart's body had even gone cold. That same burning look. As Cranepaw watched, Brokentail even licked his lips, as if he were about to partake in a particularly juicy piece of prey.

Raggedstar nodded, his composure back. Now he looked more like the leader Cranepaw obeyed and respected. With a silky bound of dark, tattered fur, he sprang atop a low branch of the oak tree.

He looked up, even though it was morning. It was early, so a few stars were still out, though they were blanketed by a thick rolling bank of fog falling down across the marsh.

Cranepaw watched, holding his breath. Nightpelt's been a good warrior, he thought. He's trained me and Brackenfoot and Brightflower. He's shown that he's a strong capable warrior. Raggedstar will surely pick him.

The Clan gathered close—for warmth and for support. Cranepaw was pressed between Nightpelt and Whitewind, whose kits stayed tucked away in the nursery, away from the smell of death and the sight of an unmoving body. He turned to look over his shoulder at who lingered behind.

Crowtail didn't follow the rest of her Clanmates. She remained beside the body of her fallen apprentice, her nose in his fur. The motion, soft in the extreme, made her seem very old all of a sudden. Cranepaw had always thought her as hard and unyielding as leaf-bare's teeth but now she looked her age: a senior warrior. He half-expected her fur to gray beneath his gaze.

Racingpaw stood at her side, watching her face softly. After a moment, he leaned into her side.

Crowtail froze in place for a few tense heartbeats, then relaxed. She whisked her tail over the top of her apprentice's head, allowing his comfort.

She really does care for him, Cranepaw thought. As much as she talks bad about him.

Raggedstar still had his head tipped back, staring up at the sky. It had clouded over even more, obscuring the waning stars from view. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful, his ears perked. Cranepaw wondered if he was talking to StarClan. Maybe the ancestors were whispering their choice for deputy into his awaiting ears.

He hoped they made the right decision.

Raggedstar's eyes opened. "I say these words before the body of Cloudpelt, that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice."

His gaze roved the crowd, not stopping on anyone. Not stopping on Nightpelt, who was looking up, hopeful expectation on his face.

Dread rolled through Cranepaw's belly.

Raggedstar's eyes went suddenly to one cat, fixing there, and he said, "The new deputy of ShadowClan will be Brokentail!"

No! Cranepaw howled internally, but even his horrified gasp was overlaid by Blackfoot, Clawface, and Stumpytail, who yowled, "Brokentail! Brokentail!" as if this was something to be celebrated and not the beginning of the end.

Brokentail caught Cranepaw's eyes through the press of bodies, his orange eyes shining. And in those eyes, shone the promise of murder.

Cranepaw didn't look away. Even as Racingpaw found him, standing close for comfort, he couldn't tear his eyes from Brokentail's goading face, his high tail, the arrogance in his eyes.

"Tonight," Cranepaw said, his voice an exhale. "We're going to make a plan tonight."

Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Racingpaw nod. "Tonight," he agreed.

XXXXX

That night, they pored over their plans, and the night after, and the night after that. Two moons worth of nights, placing every detail in the exact right order, making certain that they had multiple backup plans.

The plot relied heavily on a single detail: getting Brokentail alone.

That was going to be harder this time around. As the new deputy, he was constantly surrounded by others: leading patrols, giving commands, making sure the apprentices were coming along well. Even as Raggedstar deteriorated.

The Clan was concerned. Raggedstar had always been sound of mind. He was a cunning leader, cold in the way that ShadowClan preferred their leaders. So why was he suddenly acting like he was losing his mind?

It had started a few nights after Brokentail had been selected. Raggedstar had been out in the camp, looking for fresh-kill. After poring over the contents of the pile for far too long, he'd simply walked away with nothing, his tail low and drooping.

And then there had been last night. Cranepaw had been on Raggedstar's patrol, with Runningpaw, Nightpelt, and Crowtail. It had been their last patrol as apprentices. Their names were supposed to be announced the next night.

Raggedstar had been twitchy. He'd kept looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. His footsteps had been noisy and classless, like a duck's waddling.

Nightpelt had obviously noticed, too. "Is there something wrong, Raggedstar?"

Raggedstar had stared at him in horror, his pelt spiked. "What makes you think that?"

"You seem…uneasy."

Raggedstar had shaken his head quickly. "Hardly. Hardly. No, my sleep has been…interrupted. I will speak with Runningnose about it at a later time, thank you. There is no need to worry over me."

He'd finished the patrol, approving Cranepaw's and Racingpaw's training, and vanished back into his den, promising that their names would be soon in coming.

Cranepaw was still not pleased. Something was clearly up with Raggedstar: something he couldn't put his paw on.

Maybe he's paranoid about Brokentail. He wanted to think that so badly but he couldn't even convince himself of it. There was no way Raggedstar would suspect Brokentail. Brokentail was his beloved son, his only kit. That was why he'd selected him as his deputy, so his bloodline could lead ShadowClan's next generation.

Then what? WindClan had been silently starving. At the last Gathering, Racingpaw had told Cranepaw how thin they appeared, like they were nothing but twigs. ShadowClan had been hunting steadily on WindClan territory and judging by Racingpaw's appraisal of RiverClan, they had, too.

It made sense. WindClan were the weakest Clan. So they should toughen up. If that meant being a little hungry during the first breath of leaf-bare, so be it. Cranepaw, as a ShadowClan apprentice, had no pity for weaklings.

Nightpelt called across the clearing to Cranepaw to join the sunhigh patrol. Brokentail was waiting beside him, as was Brackenfoot and Yarrowstripe.

Brokentail looked displeased. "No, Cranepaw will be helping Runningnose clean the dens today. It's been decided."

"Come now, Brokentail," Brackenfoot said amiably. "You can't expect Cranepaw to do the younger cats' work. Brownpaw and Wetpaw have that under control. They've been apprentices for only three moons. Cranepaw will have his name soon."

Cranepaw's little bubble of pride was immediately burst by Brokentail's grumbled reply. "Well, he doesn't have it yet, and until he does, he's an apprentice. But fine, whatever. Bring him along. Let him see how the real warriors of ShadowClan protect their borders." He turned away before he could see the outrage on Cranepaw's face.

Yarrowstripe waited until the rest of the patrol had left before whispering in Cranepaw's ear, "Don't listen to him. He's concerned about his father."

Hardly. Brokentail had shown no anxiety over his father's illness. He'd been completely immersed in his deputyship. He took to it like a bird to flight, ordering with clean, swift commands. Even Cranepaw, extraordinarily begrudgingly, had to admit that he made a better deputy than Cloudpelt had been.

Nightpelt seemed convinced that Brokentail was a good deputy. He hadn't shown any jealousy that the much younger cat had beaten him out of the position. In fact, he'd done nothing but support Brokentail. If Cranepaw made any remarks to the contrary, he was met with a sharp reprimand.

Cranepaw learned to quickly keep his mind and mouth to himself, though he hid nothing from Racingpaw.

They reached the ThunderClan border. They had inherited a new leader a few moons back, the sleek blue-gray deputy Bluefur. Bluestar, he supposed now, had kept herself and her Clan silent in their forest. For now. He knew how quickly ThunderClan could turn their attentions to ShadowClan, and it would take barely more than a toe out of line before they came down on ShadowClan with claws and teeth flashing. They would use any excuse to attack and weaken their betters.

Brokentail stopped them at the edge of the Thunderpath. He raised his nose in the air, his whiskers twitching. "Do you smell that?"

Cranepaw sniffed but he couldn't detect anything.

Brackenfoot seemed to be thinking similarly. "I can't smell a thing."

Yarrowstripe, his dark fur gleaming as he stalked forward, stopped at the Thunderpath, his body tense. His shoulders were still as ice. "I smell blood," he said, sounding aghast. "Fresh. Cat. ShadowClan."

Nightpelt joined him, as did Cranepaw, until the whole patrol crouched at the border. "Impossible," Nightpelt whispered, his eyes very wide. "ThunderClan wouldn't—"

"Let's go," Brokentail growled, already heading towards the secret tunnel beneath the roaring black path.

"No!" Yarrowstripe leapt in front of him, his eyes wide. His fur was prickled up along his spine with unease, his tabby stripes blurring into a shadow across his back. "We should go alert Raggedstar. If this really is one of our cats—"

"You smelled it yourself," Brackenfoot pointed out, his tail lashing. "We have to act now."

Brokentail flashed him a confirming look. "He's right. Let's go."

Nightpelt hesitated, looking uneasily to Cranepaw. "I don't think that's the best idea. I vote that we wait."

"There is no voting." Brokentail's voice was flat. "There's Raggedstar's word and there's my word. And right now, there's only mine. So let's go." His orange eyes flashed like lightning between them, daring them to speak up.

There was no more arguing after that.

ThunderClan territory was foreign and dry beneath Cranepaw's pads. He felt the oppressive weight of the space pressing in on him. It was too open there. Like WindClan. The trees were far too far apart, which left large gaps of emptiness for them to just walk through. The grass was soft beneath his paws but that did not soothe him from the overriding thought that this was wrong. They shouldn't be here. This was not friendly territory.

The scent of blood intensified.

Yarrowstripe, the best tracker, led the way. His pawsteps were light as falling leaves as he padded along, his nose on the ground. His eyes were yellow slits as he concentrated.

He led them towards Fourtrees. Unerringly crossing around trunks and leaping up over fallen branches, he walked on, leaving the rest of them to follow, low and lithe.

It must be Yellowfang, was Cranepaw's overwhelming thought. He felt sick. The old she-cat must have proven herself to be unable to survive without a Clan to protect her, even with her warrior training.

And he felt sad for her. Sad that it had to be that way. Sad that Yellowfang had been blamed for something she didn't do, for she certainly did not kill Volepaw and Mosspaw. No, he thought, his eyes cutting to Brokentail. It had not been Yellowfang whose paws had been stained with young blood.

Yarrowstripe stopped dead. Brackenfoot actually ran into his haunches from the suddenness of it. "StarClan," he breathed, horror choking his voice.

"What is it?" Nightpelt shoved his way between the two warriors. His fur fluffed out to twice its usual size in an instant. Fear rolled off him in a sickly wave.

"What? What's wrong? Did you find it?" Brokentail pushed his way to the front and Cranepaw followed in his wake; he noticed distantly that his and Brokentail's shoulders were almost equal in height as he went.

In front of Yarrowstripe, curled in the dust like an apprentice and covered with dozens of deep wounds, was a cat. If Cranepaw hadn't recognized him immediately by his dark tabby fur, the scent of his blood would have given it away.

It was Raggedstar.

XXXXXXX

It was night. Cranepaw waited up in the tree where he'd once called Rosewing beautiful and almost told her he loved her, holding completely still. He knew he was nearly invisible. He knew he wouldn't be spotted.

And he knew Brokentail was on his way here.

He would walk right past this way, on his way to the Moonstone. There, he would receive his nine lives. He would become Brokenstar.

Cranepaw wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. Not for his mother or Volepaw and Mosspaw or Raggedstar or for the whole of ShadowClan. Brokentail would lead them to ruin. He would bathe in innocent ShadowClan blood without a trace of regret.

And now they had begun their plan.

Racingpaw was already in motion. His job was to distract Runningnose, to make him believe he had something horribly, terribly wrong with him. Racingpaw was a good actor: he could pull it off. He would have to convince Brokentail to leave them behind and go on his way, alone.

And then Cranepaw would strike.

Cranepaw was taking deep, steadying breaths. Brokentail would be here soon. He would have to be completely focused to make sure everything went as planned. One mistake, one screw-up, and they'd be banished from the Clan.

Not that that wasn't a good option. But Cranepaw didn't want to leave Rosewing behind. Not now. Not yet. Not before he'd had a chance to tell her everything.

There was a rustling noise and Brokentail appeared. He pushed his scarred nose through the brambles and stepped forward, pulling his entire body into view.

Just a few more pawsteps and—

"Wait! Brokentail!" Runningnose came running into view, panting heavily. He sat down and gasped, his eyes streaming, his nose running as usual.

Cranepaw sank his claws into the bark. Why? Why hadn't Racingpaw stopped him? Now they were going to lose their only chance!

He couldn't attack Brokentail in full view of Runningnose. Murder was already against the warrior code, but murder in front of a medicine cat seemed like another tier of condemnation.

Fury flashed through him, hot and wild as a fire. Their only chance was lost.

They were nearly beneath the tree now, walking quickly. Cranepaw had only heartbeats to figure out what he was going to do.

Suddenly, there was a sound. A high yowling cry.

Brokentail let out a hiss of frustration, wheeling in its direction. "If that's Racingpaw again, I swear I'll—"

"Let me deal with my brother, Brokentail," Runningnose said, sounding uncharacteristically serious. His walk was stiff as he turned around. "Please wait here."

"I don't have time for this! We'll miss moonhigh! I will not have my lives ceremony ruined by a stupid apprentice!" He lashed out at a thorn bush, snarling his fury.

Runningnose said once more, "Please wait. I'll return shortly." Then he disappeared into the undergrowth.

Now. There was no more time for waiting. No more distraction. It was act now or let the Clan suffer nine lives' worth of horrors.

Cranepaw bunched his legs beneath him and sprang.

He landed on Brokentail's back, making the older cat howl in surprise. He was surprisingly wiry and tough. His body jerked beneath Cranepaw as he struggled to hold on. With one huge lunge, Cranepaw was bucked off.

He landed heavily in the dirt, his breath gone.

"You." Brokentail's orange eyes were insane, twin flames. His nostrils flared. Every hair on his pelt was up. "How dare you attack me! Are you out of your mind? Do you not know who I am?"

"You're a murderer," Cranepaw snarled. He pushed himself to his paws, readying his stance. His head fell below his shoulders as he growled, baring his teeth. "You killed my mother, your apprentice, his brother. Even your own father."

Brokentail laughed. The sound was painful. "You really believe that, do you? And how do you know?"

"I heard you," Cranepaw growled low in his throat. "You told Blackfoot that you would cleanse the Clan. That you'd relocate anyone who got in your way."

"Ah." And now Brokentail leaned back, his chin raised. "So you did hear me. I thought I scented you that night. I knew you wouldn't leave me alone after your mother—"

"Don't you speak of her!" Cranepaw yowled. "Don't you dare talk about Silversong, you murderer!"

"And what will you do?" Brokentail bared his fangs, which were yellow and uneven like Yellowfang's. "Tell the Clan? Warn me off? Go ahead. StarClan have appointed me as deputy for a reason, you mewling kit! And I will not have you get between me and my destiny!" He raised a paw back, his claws glittering like ice.

Cranepaw didn't even have time to move.

Suddenly, Brokentail screamed. Blood welled and ran down his face, staining his dark fur, his whiskers, his lips.

On his back was Racingpaw. He'd dug in his claws and wouldn't let go.

Cranepaw joined him, howling his fury. He swung himself up on Brokentail's back, digging his claws into the deputy's back again and again, feeling the satisfying rip of fur and skin. Blood blossomed in his nose as Brokentail's paw connected with Cranepaw's face but he didn't care. Sniffling, Cranepaw held his breath and sank in his teeth, tasting Brokentail's blood.

He was flung from his back as Brokentail twisted sharply. His back hit a tree and he fell, half-senseless to the ground, stars spinning in his vision.

When his eyes cleared, he saw Brokentail had Racingpaw pinned with both forepaws. He was blinking blood out of his eyes.

"You haven't learned," Brokentail hissed but he was talking to Cranepaw. "You won't learn. I have tried again and again to get rid of you, you stupid apprentice, but you simply do not get the hint. I will have to use force to teach you your lesson."

Racingpaw was struggling beneath Brokentail's crushing weight. "Cranepaw!" he yowled, his eyes finding Cranepaw's across the distance. Fear sparked there, light heat-lightning. "Cranepaw, don't—"

Before Cranepaw could move, before he could even shout back to his friend, Brokentail's head descended.

There was a gurgled keen and a sharp snapping sound, and then everything was silent.

Brokentail stepped off of Racingpaw chest, his expression disgusted. Cranepaw watched, unable to believe it, unable to tear his eyes away, as Racingpaw lay there, completely still, immobile as ice.

He was dead.

Sorry, readers, but he had to go. Now Cranepaw has nothing to lose!

And to the question, yes, I made up a few of these characters, but the rest really were ShadowClan warriors. I use the Warriors Wiki to make my list. The time's a bit off but whatever. I wasn't aiming for perfection. Perfection's booo-ring. XD

Anyway, you know what to do.

R&R~

Shadow