I am so sorry, guys—I haven't updated in a month (and five days)! But here it is: chapter seven—enjoy, and remember to review!

Ashstar padded into his den—now that his bones were becoming stiff and his mew rougher, the ceremonies, no matter the joy that came along with them, always made him weary. Besides, with just one apprentice as his charge—for Specklefang had taken over the training of Fawnpaw—there was nothing more for him to do. He collapsed onto a pile of damp bedding—I must get Blackpaw to replace this—and witnessed Specklefang and Poppyheart enter the dim clearing. It was Specklefang, the boldest of the cats assembled, who broke the silence:

"You know he is in great danger, Ashstar. Even StarClan cannot see everything," she mewed, her voice low but fierce.

"Yes…" Ashstar contemplated how to continue, but Poppyheart beat him in filling the still, silent air.

"You can't just go on like this, Ashstar—training and promotions and pretending that the forest is still safe! No matter what StarClan says, Deathstar—"

"You do not know all of Deathstar's secrets, Poppyheart," Ashstar mewed calmly.

"Neither do you," Specklefang interjected, slightly mockingly. "You're the first to admit it, that tom has secrets not even StarClan knows."

"Yes, Specklefang, I am aware that no cat knows all of Deathstar's buried truths," Ashstar replied softly. All this time, his gaze had been directed at the muddy ground; Specklefang crouched and ducked to meet his eyes, her head almost dipping into the puddles. "Ashstar—we must protect him. In all ways possible."

"I know." It was the expected response; Specklefang knew it would come, but hearing it, bitter and hopeless, was no easier. The silence resumed, blanketing the cats in heavy folds.

"It is true, then, that Blackheart has taken over the leadership of SnakeClan?" Poppyheart switched the subject.

Neither of her companions answered: both were staring solemnly at the bare rock face ahead of them.

Both were prematurely mourning Blackpaw, for they knew that Death would surely be coming for him, as sure as the leaves would fall from the trees as the weather turned cold.

"Well done, Blackpaw!" Russetpaw meowed happily, staring into his friend's green eyes. "We're second stage apprentices now!"

"Yeah," Blackpaw said distractedly, only hearing half of what Russetpaw was telling him—no matter that Sparrowpaw could hear the red apprentice's mews from across the camp. "Good job to you, too."

"Yeah," Russetpaw prodded his celebratory mouse with a paw, suddenly becoming more serious. "But can you believe that Fawnpaw is apprenticed to the clan deputy? She's worse than some of my nightmares, honestly. She's not even clanborn, but she gets the—"

He stopped abruptly, seeing Blackpaw pointing to a spot some two tail-lengths behind his back. Turning, he locked eyes with Fawnpaw for a second before she dashed off into the forest.

"I think she heard you, Russetpaw," Blackpaw muttered ashamedly, even though he was not the one who had committed the wrongdoing. He didn't have any quarrels with Fawnpaw, except for the fact that he was occasionally annoyed by her perfect skills, but he knew that Russetpaw didn't see from that point of view.

"Who cares? It's true," Russetpaw replied, but he still looked uncomfortable. "Well, we should probably go and see if the elders need our help."

Blackpaw did not argue. This was a convenient excuse to ignore his thoughts of impending Death.

Specklefang and Ashstar were still in conference—they had moved into the topic of the recent gloomy atmosphere in the camp. "We need to do something uplifting, Ashstar—something to actually make us happy again—"

"Kits," was his response.

"What?" Specklefang gave him a bewildered expression; his thoughts, however brilliant, were sometimes hard to follow.

"Kits," Ashstar repeated. "Mossball."

Specklefang pondered the word. "Mossball…yes, I do believe that could be a solution."

Glad that she was to have found a possible cure for the dismal feelings, she was slightly annoyed—why was it always Ashstar who thought of all the solutions to their problems, whatever they may be?

Smallnose looked approvingly at the two apprentices who had entered the elders' den. Thrushpelt was less satisfied—in sharp, clipped hisses, she ordered Blackpaw and Russetpaw through the grooming of her pelt and the tidying of her nest, while Smallnose regaled them with tales about the 'good old days,' when the forest was safer. It was tedious work, ended only when Bumblepaw burst into the den, frantically yowling, "Fox! Fox! All cats, protect the elders and kits, there's a fox in our territory!"

Thrushpelt hissed at his retreating tail tip—if anything, the fox would need protection from her. By now, the patrol's warning had spread throughout the camp, and it seemed that every warrior was reacting similarly to Thrushpelt: they had stiffened their fur and sharpened their claws, preparing for attack. Reedpelt was glaring angrily, as if he had already spotted the fox, while the older apprentices were practically bouncing with excitement at the idea of their first fox-hunt.

A sudden thought struck Blackpaw. "Fawnpaw!" he whispered to Russetpaw. His eyes widened, and he understood right away, knowing that it would be his fault if she was injured—or worse.

"If we're quick, we can slip out of the back entrance, and, with luck, no one will realize," Blackpaw meowed rapidly and softly. Russetpaw nodded mutely, looking like he regretted eating two mice at sunhigh just then.

The two young cats tore across camp, slinking unnoticed out into the trees. "Fawnpaw…" they called, fighting to keep their voices low so as to not attract the predator. Suddenly, a shriek split their ears, cutting into the silence like a claw swipe. "Here!" Blackpaw meowed, all thoughts of quiet abandoned as he dashed into the battle scene. They had arrived just in time to save their fellow apprentice from harm—the reddish-brown creature, with a hungry glint in its eyes, was circling Fawnpaw, who was wide-eyed and trembling with fear. Russetpaw hissed, and the creature's attention was diverted from Fawnpaw for a second—but now Russetpaw was the one in danger. Snarling, the fox charged and pounced onto Russetpaw.

"Russetpaw!" Fawnpaw yowled. Blackpaw clawed angrily at the fox, but it would not be dislodged. A new plan forming in his mind, he backed away, judging the distance, then he shot a meaningful glance at Fawnpaw and ran blindly towards the creature, not caring that the predator he was running straight into had the potential to kill him. He knew that his movements were being expertly mirrored by Fawnpaw.

The apprentices hit the fox in perfect synchronicity, biting and scratching madly. With Fawnpaw being a surprisingly good fighter, and Blackpaw unsurprisingly so, considering his father's skills, it was not long before the fox loosened its grip on Russetpaw and fell limply onto the ground. It was not dead; its breaths were still coming in rapid pants, but it was obviously harmed. Russetpaw looked the same, splayed on the ground next to his attacker, and Blackpaw sincerely hoped that his friend's wounds were not as severe as the ones he had inflicted on the fox.

"Russetpaw!" he said, panicked, prodding his friend's red-streaked pelt. For a moment, the reddish apprentice did not move, but then he stirred and made a pitiful mewling sound, trying to form the word "Thanks." Blackpaw was overjoyed—Russetpaw was alive.

"Blackpaw! What are you doing?" A new voice entered the scene: it was Raggedfur, accompanied by Ashstar Specklefang, and Thrushfall, who had been leading the patrol who first spotted the fox.

"Explain yourselves, please!" Specklefang said quickly, looking from the unconscious fox to Russetpaw; Blackpaw felt an uncomfortable sense of dread. But, to his surprise, it was Fawnpaw who spoke up. "It's my fault, Specklefang," she said, her mews convincingly guilt-ridden. "I thought I could drive out the fox on my own because I know the basics for fox-fighting…but I was wrong. If Blackpaw and Russetpaw hadn't come to save me…I'd probably be dead." She finished with a fixed stare at the ground: if Blackpaw hadn't known the truth, he would have been fooled by her act, without a doubt.

Specklefang looked stunned; usually it was Russetpaw who broke the rules. Regaining her control over the situation, she said strictly, "Well, I must say, I expected better of you, Fawnpaw. We will discuss your punishment after our return to camp. And you"—she turned to Blackpaw, who was standing in front of the now-sleeping form of Russetpaw—"you will be given the reward you deserve. Now," she snapped, immediately reverting back into a business-like tone,"let us bring Russetpaw back to camp, and to Poppyheart, before his injuries worsen."

Blackpaw turned to Fawnpaw. "Friends?" he asked.

She merely gave him a kind look in return, but the meaning was clear—killing a fox together was a hard thing to survive without establishing at least a cordial relationship afterwards.

Returning the expression, Blackpaw helped Specklefang and Raggedfur in carrying Russetpaw back to the camp, feeling strangely satisfied.

Friends.

Many thanks to all reviewers/favoriters/followers! And I'll try for a quicker update next time!

…Maybe some reviews would help…