While other cats form small clusters throughout camp, Stonetail ignores them all. Her pelt prickles with outrage, and unable to contain her fury, she swipes at the nearest pine. Sticky sap dribbles from the gouges she makes in the tree, and chunks of bark lodge themselves below her claws. She should care how uncomfortable the sensation is, and yet she does not.

The only thing on her mind is her punishment.

Greystar must have selected Stonetail to watch the loners as retribution for her cruel accusations following the council's dismissal. Insulted, it seemed like the pale leader wanted the final say in the matter. In fact, Stonetail realizes her accusations may have been true. Perhaps Greystar only chose to provide the loners asylum in order to spite her daughter.

Letting out a wordless, frustrated snarl, Stonetail pays no heed to the wary glances of her Clanmates and marches into Greystar's den. "They are not my responsibility!" she hisses, sinking her claws into a stray moss scrap when her mother does not turn around to face her. "Did you hear me? I will not be the one to look after them!"

Greystar flicks her ears, but remains curled in her nest. Her voice is low and stern. "Did you hear me?" she parrots. "You are not the only one who will be training them in our ways. Streamheart will join you."

"That's not what I mean!" Stonetail shouts. "Find someone else to hover over them, because I have other things to do. For StarClan's sake, I have an apprentice, and those loners are not worth more than she is. Especially not now, not when she's so close to her assessments." The scene that afternoon bites at Stonetail. How is she supposed to make things right with Thrushpaw if she's busy teaching a loner basic Clan decency? Her apprentice has to come first, and as she opens her mouth to reiterate this, Greystar cuts her off.

"Thrushpaw is no longer your apprentice. She spoke to me earlier and admitted that she does not wish to be a warrior. I made arrangements for her to take up training as a medicine cat instead; Robinfoot will oversee her from now on."

The ground seems to fall out from beneath Stonetail. Thrushpaw wants to become a medicine cat? She wants to learn from someone else? It becomes horrifically clear how badly Stonetail has failed the little tabby. If she had just paid her apprentice the slightest bit more heed, if she hadn't been so insistent that Thrushpaw fight her way through training tooth and claw, then maybe it wouldn't come as such a shock that warriorhood isn't the proper path for Thrushpaw to pursue. Apologies pile up on her tongue, each one more panicked than the last, and Stonetail has to clamp her jaws shut to fight them.

"Additionally," Greystar continues, talking over any sounds of protest her daughter might choke out, "offering shelter was your idea. I don't recall anyone else making the suggestion that they could be useful to us if given the chance, and I will not put those loners in the care of someone who would rather drive them out. You made the suggestion, you no longer have an apprentice, and you will take responsibility for those toms. I did not raise you to develop solutions you are unwilling to implement yourself. Are we clear?"

And so it must be. Short of a physical altercation, Stonetail knows there is no way to get the better of Greystar. Unoccupied by mentoring duties and responsible for the invitation extended to the toms in the first place, she cannot give a reason to disobey her leader's commands beyond that of her own selfishness. The warrior code leaves no room for greed, a lesson she is coming to terms with the hard way, and so with nothing left to say, she slinks away from Greystar's cold gaze, burning with total humiliation. Her mother does not bother to call her back, either; the heavy silence means this matter is settled, though not by choice.

Head low, Stonetail automatically drifts toward the warriors' den. As an apprentice, she would often hide in her nest after a blowout with her mother, and typically remained until a senior warrior ousted her midway through the evening. The need to behave in this pathetic way rises like bile, sickly sweet in its own terrible way, and the grey tabby is tempted to give in. Let a senior warrior come for her; an apprentice no more, she will happily snap at anyone foolish enough to disturb her.

Yet she does not when Streamheart intercepts her at the den's mouth. "They're awake," the silver tabby says breathlessly, eyes flickering with unease. Unlike Stonetail, she has accepted her new duties, apprehensive but far from vehement or fickle. Stonetail feels shame bubble up again at the thought. What is wrong with her, refusing to serve her Clan as unflinchingly as her friend does?

Subduing the thought, she bobs her head stiffly, grunting, "Fine." Should she say any more than that, her complaints will resume and she will fail yet again to be as dedicated a warrior as Streamheart. She can't have this, and her friend seems to understand, as she does not press the issue in the slightest as they make their way to the toms' guarded den. The warriors standing guard, Pineheart and Sootwing, step aside on light feet to make way for the she-cats visiting their new charges.

Before they enter the den, though, Streamheart carefully looks Stonetail over. "What happened?" Her curiosity is gentle, and in the time it takes for the grey tabby to choke out, "I'm not a mentor anymore," Streamheart is nothing but patient.

"I'm so sorry," she says, running her tail over her friend's back before pulling it away and slipping into the den, aware that the grey she-cat needs solidarity but not coddling. Stonetail hesitates to follow, glancing over at Robinfoot's den. When Thrushpaw pokes her head out, focused on some task her new mentor has already given her, Stonetail rips her gaze away and steels herself to enter the loners' den.

The setting sun gives the inside of the den a warm glow, but even this is too bright for the toms. They both shield their eyes, still groggy from poppy seeds, and moan softly in relief when Streamheart and Stonetail block most of the entrance. "Thank you," the brown tabby mumbles, muzzle half hidden under broad, round paws that could put most others' paws to shame. Beside the tabby, the black tom simply keeps his eyes screwed shut, apparently not prepared to adjust to wakefulness. He says nothing, and only the slight fall of his jaw, revealing a pink mouth lined with sharp teeth, proves that he is more than a thin shadow on the den wall.

Streamheart is the first to break the silence. "How do you feel?" she asks, taking a seat. The loners groan in unison as sunlight passes through the den's entrance, and duck their heads toward the far walls.

"You could stay standing," the tabby says feebly, and to Stonetail's surprise, Streamheart gets back to her paws, letting cool darkness reign once more.

"Is that better?" she asks.

"Much."

The casual conversation is grating. Are they not here to give the toms Greystar's offer? Drawing herself up into as commanding a posture as she can muster with her heart sunk so low in her chest, Stonetail begins, "We have a proposal for you." The captives exchange a furtive look as quickly as a hare. Despite their encounter with poppy seeds, the grey warrior's words have earned their full attention, and it seems she would be unwise to waste time. While she still has their focus, she tells of them of the conditions under which they will be allowed to shelter with ShadeClan, though not without strain to her voice. The tabby is oblivious to this, but Stonetail does catch the slight squint of the other's amber eyes. When she finishes, he speaks for the first time, confirming her suspicions.

"You don't like this idea," he observes coolly. "If you don't mean it, how can we trust you?" So he's shrewder than anticipated. Stonetail is almost glad he understands the peril he and his companion may be in, as it could make cooperation far easier between them. If he is aware that one misstep will bring a horde of angry warriors down on him, he's unlikely to do anything more mouse-brained than ask questions requiring simple answers, and that isn't terribly intolerable compared to any fight he might put up. Stonetail would rather reason with him than back him into a corner that forces them to settle their disagreements through a scuffle. More than one warrior was needed to subdue him the first time around; when he recovers his full strength, it could take even more effort than that.

"We haven't decided if we can trust you," she replies, fighting a slight quiver in her voice. "I wouldn't have a problem toting your behinds around as some kind of mentor if you were just ShadeClan apprentices, but you're a couple of loners no one's ever seen before. Don't expect happy trails and all that fox dung until you can prove yourselves cooperative. Even better, prove you're loyal."

For a heartbeat, the black tom rocks on his haunches and shuts his eyes, fading into the gloom again. Then, they snap open, unclouded by indecision. Without consulting his friend, who appears to know when he should not speak, the loner says, "My name is Coal. This is Clay. We'll stay as long as you'll have us."