Author's Note: First, I would like to thank RisingFromTheRuins, who gave me an amazing review and was the second person to favorite the story! Thank you!

Note #2: You may have noticed that I forgot to include Peter Pettigrew in the allegiances. I have edited this, so now he exists in this world. I also put in Augusta Longbottom, who I did not think would make an appearance, but now she has.

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

HallowClan was now a place of tensions and stress. Every clan member had been affected by the loss of three beloved cats and the incapacitation of two more. Ivystep and Brackenleaf had still not recovered from their battle with Blackheart; both had yet to leave the medicine den and Poppyheart doubted if they would ever regain full strength once more. Even though the fractures and breaks were healing very well, both cats now talked to no one, preferring to mumble incoherently to themselves, and they had to be guided through the simplest of tasks, including eating and grooming.

To make matters worse, Bumblekit was too young to understand where his parents had gone. The remaining nursery queens had taken charge of his feeding, as they all had milk to spare, but they could not stop him from wandering the cramped den, mewling the names of his parents: "Ivystep! Brackenleaf? Ivystep?" It was decided that his care would pass into the paws of his grandmother, Thrushpelt, when he left the nursery, and several cats pitied Bumblekit: Thrushpelt was known for quick wit and an acid tongue.

There was a period of seemingly peaceful sunrises, but Ashstar did not stop waiting in dread for the next tragedy. He and Specklefang debated for days on safety measures and Blackkit's condition; rarely were either of them seen outside Ashstar's den. Raggedfur, Darkfoot, and Owlfeather were among those who pleaded to be allowed to visit Blackkit. To every cat's dismay, all were flatly refused by a leader who had seemed to have lost a part of himself with the loss of the kit.

The first sun-filled day for many dawned bright and clear, bringing promises of a robin's-egg-blue sky and some of the last warm weather before leaf-fall. It was the first sunrise that brought Specklefang and Ashstar padding from a cool den to enjoy the sereneness of the clearing. Abandoning all thoughts of Blackkit and impending doom, the two cats laid in silence, listening to the cacophony of the waking clan.

First the enthusiastically playing kits bounded from the nursery, squealing and pushing a mossball, leaving Bumblekit trailing desolately behind. Next came the early chatterings of warriors and apprentices, mingled with the grumpy remarks of the cats who were never chosen for the dawn patrol. The elders awoke last; there was no mistaking the loud disclaiming of Thrushpelt as she complained, yet again, about the volume of kits' games.

At the foot of central rock, Specklefang decided that she could put off her deputy duties no longer and went to organize the dawn patrol. "Okay, I'll take Reedpelt, Rowanfire, Lizardwatcher, and Darkfoot—where is Darkfoot?"

A yowl from behind her answered the question; she spun around to see two warriors circling each other. One was Darkfoot, his teeth bared in a snarl, and the other was an unremarkable, ordinary warrior—Ratclaw, looking uncharacteristically aggressive.

"Lilystream and Deerleap, Darkfoot! How could you?" Ratclaw meowed, desperation in his voice. "We were friends…and you killed them!"

"You have bees in your brain, Ratclaw!" hissed Darkfoot. "I would rather die than kill my friends! Die!"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Ratclaw said hysterically. "You betrayed Lilystream and Deerleap to Deathstar!"

"I did no such thing," Darkfoot said, his mew deadly. "If that's what you believe, then we are no longer clanmates."

He raked his claws down Ratclaw's face; Ratclaw retaliated, slicing his stomach, but Darkfoot was already on the opposite side, slashing his flanks. On and on they fought: other cats joined in to try and break up the fight, but all were thrown away by Darkfoot, who wished only to harm Ratclaw.

Ashstar tried many times to command the two cats to stop fighting, but either they would not listen or they could not hear over the sound of howling and hissing. Darkfoot, as the better warrior, landed many more blows on Ratclaw than he received, and soon the smaller cat was shuddering and twitching violently on the ground. "I…hope you're…happy…now, Darkfoot," Ratclaw managed, before he went still.

"He's dead!" The cry came immediately, spurring an outcry of other, similar ones. A close friend of both Darkfoot and Ratclaw, Wolfmoon, stared at the ground with a blank expression. Darkfoot, through all of the chaos, merely looked confused, but not a bit regretful. Ashstar clambered up the central rock and yowled for silence. "Darkfoot…what do you have to say for yourself?" Ashstar said hesitantly.

The dark warrior looked up from Ratclaw's body. "If this fox-hearted fool was senseless enough to accuse me of murdering my two closest friends, then he deserved everything I gave him."

"Can you prove that the murder of Lilystream and Deerleap was not your doing?"

Fright mixed into the mess of emotions on Darkfoot's blood-splattered face. "I do not know how to do that, Ashstar," he mewed quietly.

"Throw him out!" cried a voice in the crowd, undoubtedly one of the more nervous nursery queens.

"Yes!" was the answering call. "Traitor!"

"Murderer!"

"Fox dung!"

Darkfoot hung his head. "If you wish, Ashstar, I will leave HallowClan."

"No, Darkfoot, there is no proof that you were responsible for recent events," Ashstar responded quickly. This resulted in protests from the clan, who had changed their views on Darkfoot, from loyal warrior to sure killer, as quickly as the tom had won his battle with Ratclaw.

"No, Ashstar," Darkfoot mewed firmly. "I cannot remain in a clan where everyone believes me a murderer. I will leave."

Without waiting for Ashstar's response, Darkfoot padded slowly out of the camp.

Out of the clan.

Wolfmoon lowered his head to Ratclaw's body, murmuring, "Goodbye, Ratclaw. You died a warrior…"

Ashstar was next, not saying a word but brushing his gray and white pelt against Ratclaw's battered brown one.

The whole of HallowClan did the same, giving the undersized warrior, who seemed even smaller in death, mews of encouragement and a safe life in StarClan. The last grief-ridden apprentice was pulled from Ratclaw by his mother, and then Thrushpelt and Smallnose shared tongues with him one last time, finishing by dragging Ratclaw's body into his final resting place—directly below a magnificent red oak tree behind the warrior's den.

When the body was nowhere to be found at sunhigh, no one questioned the disappearance. StarClan moved in mysterious ways.

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