Leafpaw had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes as Rosepaw began jabbering about Briarpaw again. Leafpaw almost wished she wasn't going to the Gathering if she had to listen to this all night. It was Briarpaw this, Briarpaw that. Briarpaw, Briarpaw, Briarpaw. Leafpaw couldn't see what was so great about that puny tabby.

But here she was, cantering through the chilly forest with a patrol of her Clanmates. The frosty breeze awakened her senses. The stars shone, bright and cold, and the moon illuminated the earth with a silver glow.

They soon arrived at the hollow where the Gathering was held. Two other Clans were there already; Leafpaw identified the scents of MoorClan and OakClan. Cats of all different sizes and colors were milling around in the long grass. Blossomfur and Forestpaw headed over to the other medicine cats: Nightstripe of MoorClan and Snowfall of OakClan.

Almost immediately after the PineClan cats arrived, CliffClan's patrol dashed into the clearing. Their leader, Whitestar, and deputy, Mossfur, pushed their way to the front. Sunstorm and Windystar followed them to the fallen tree that the leaders sat on to address the Gathering.

There were two trees in the hollow: a pine and an oak, both near the back. Leafpaw followed some of her Clanmates up the pine. From about midway up the tree, Leafpaw had a very good view. She studied the leaders and deputies.

OakClan's leader, Brightstar, was a pretty brown-and-white she cat. Leafpaw had heard (time and time again) complaints about OakClan, but none about Brightstar herself. Their deputy was another story. Every PineClan cat – no, make that every cat who wasn't in OakClan – hated him. His name was Shadowfrost, and his dark pelt was said to mirror his heart. Shadowfrost's black fur blended into the shadows so that if you looked at him just right, you could see nothing but a pair of piercing, frosty blue eyes.

MoorClan's leader was a small tortoiseshell. His bright ginger tail made him instantly recognizable among the other cats. He was known to be very brave, yet sometimes a little rash. His level-headed deputy, Tornpelt, was said to balance him out. Tornpelt was a dark grayish-brown tom with a very scarred pelt. Leafpaw had been told that he had been roughed up by a few loners as a kit, and had no great love for any non-Clan cat.

Whitestar was a big tom with long white fur and blue eyes. He was very wise and strong. His quiet and thoughtful character was reflected in his deputy, Mossfur. Mossfur was a dark gray she-cat with bright green eyes. Leafpaw had heard once that the two were kin.

Brightstar leaped onto the fallen tree and gave a great yowl to call the cats' attention. The other three leaders jumped up beside her, and the deputies gathered in front of the log.

Brightstar spoke first. "OakClan is strong. Dewpaw and Greenpaw have become warriors. They are now known as Dewpool and Greenleaf. Brightdawn has given birth to kits: Windkit and Violetkit. OakClan has nothing else to report."

Whitestar and Redstar gave similar reports, and then it was Windystar's turn.

"PineClan remains strong," he said with great confidence. "We have one new apprentice: Slashpaw." Leafpaw heard a hiss from the crowd and zeroed in on the warrior Orangestripe. She realized that word must have gotten out about Slashpaw's parentage. "That is all," said Windystar, ignoring Orangestripe. "Gathering dismissed." Windystar proceeded to hop down from the log. He wove his way through the other three Clans, Sunstorm close behind. PineClan followed him out of the hollow and into the pines. That was a short Gathering, Leafpaw thought. There was so much going on in her Clan... all of the fear from the distant rogue attack, plus the hunger of late leaf-fall. But to admit any of those weaknesses to the other Clans would be foolish. She supposed the other Clans must be the same way.

"There you are!"

Bluepaw turned around. A very angry-looking Cloudstorm was stalking toward him.

"Hello," Bluepaw said.

"Don't you play innocent with me!" the warrior growled. "I thought I told you to hunt around the initiation site?"

"I didn't feel like it," Bluepaw said truthfully. He scraped some dirt over his freshly-caught mouse and trotted over to the Willow Pool to get a quick drink. Cloudstorm hissed, lashing his tail in frustration.

"Get back to camp," he ordered. "Bring your prey to the elders and fetch new moss for them."

"But can't we do battle training?"

"No! While you're at it, see if Blossomfur has any mouse bile for you to use to get the ticks off of the elders."

"Ew! I don't want --"

"I don't care! Maybe next time you will do as you're told! Go!"

Bluepaw was suddenly obedient. He picked up his mouse and walked toward camp, head hanging low. Cloudstorm wondered what he had done to make his pawful of an apprentice feel ashamed of his actions. It was uncharacteristic for the warrior to be so short-tempered, but Bluepaw had a way of getting on his nerves.

Bluepaw trudged toward camp, his paws feeling heavy. Cloudstorm telling him to hurry up and leave had reminded him of Graystar urging him to run back to camp.

The battle still haunted Bluepaw. For some time after the rogues attacked, every time he closed his eyes, he saw claws and blood, and worst of all, Graystar's blank eyes and the unmoving bodies of the other two warriors. When he was alone in the forest, when it was quiet, he could hear shrieks of pain and fury echoing in his mind. Graystar's last words to him rang in his ears. He should have been a better apprentice. He should have let Graystar know how much he really had cared for him If only he had run faster to get help, or even stayed and fought. It was his fault. It was all his fault.

"Bluepaw?"

The apprentice's head snapped up. Leafpaw was standing a few rabbit hops away, at the edge of the training hollow.

"What are you doing all by yourself?" she asked. "Windystar said that all apprentices had to be with a warrior outside of camp."

Bluepaw dropped his mouse. "I could ask you the same question," he snapped, his guilt making him angry easily.

Leafpaw purred in amusement. "True," she said. "But Marshpelt is nearby." She waved her tail, pointing to the place her mentor had disappeared to. "He thought he smelled a squirrel."

"Leafpaw!" The huge brown warrior stepped into the hollow. "Oh. Bluepaw." Marshpelt nodded at Bluepaw in greeting. "Perfect. Leafpaw, you head back to camp with Bluepaw. I'm going with the sunhigh patrol. Whitespot just came by. He was assigned to go, but apparently Willowfur is kitting. I'm filling in for him." He disappeared into the shadows again.

"Oh! This is wonderful!" Leafpaw cried. "Willowfur is kitting! I can't wait to see the kits – oh, I hope she's okay!"

"Why don't we go see," Bluepaw said, picking up his mouse. The two apprentices dashed through the pines and into camp.

"There you are, Leafpaw!" said Daisyheart.

"Has Willowfur had her kits yet?" asked Leafpaw.

"No. Blossomfur and Forestpaw are in there with her now," said Daisyheart. "Rosepaw is waiting outside of the nursery. You should go join her."

"All right," said Leafpaw. "Coming, Bluepaw?"

"No," said the blue apprentice. "I have to bring this mouse to the elders, put bile on their ticks, and clear away their soiled bedding."

"Ouch," said Leafpaw. "What did you do this time?"

Bluepaw muttered something about the elders needing to be cared for, scooped up his catch, and stalked away.

"Hey," Leafpaw said, catching up to him. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Bluepaw didn't reply. Why did everyone always assume he had gotten into trouble?

Because you always are in trouble, a truthful voice inside his head answered.

Shut up, Bluepaw growled mentally.

"Would you like some help with the elders?" Leafpaw offered. Bluepaw saw that she was trying to make up, so he softened.

"What about your mother?"

"She'll be fine," Leafpaw replied. "Blossomfur and Forestpelt are great medicine cats. I think it will be a while before the kits are born." She sighed. "And Rosepaw doesn't seem to need any company." Bluepaw glanced toward the nursery. Just as he suspected, Briarpaw was sitting very close to Leafpaw's sister. Bluepaw rolled his eyes. Lately, Briarpaw had been going on and on about Rosepaw. With him, it was Rosepaw this, Rosepaw that. Rosepaw, Rosepaw, Rosepaw. Bluepaw couldn't see what was so great about the she-cat.

While Bluepaw dabbed ticks the ticks on Runningbelly's pelt with mouse bile, Leafpaw had gone to fetch fresh moss for bedding. Surprisingly, the other apprentice hadn't offered to do his job.

"You're done," Bluepaw said to the sandy-colored elder.

"Are you sure?" asked Runningbelly. "My flank itches."

"That's a flea," said Bluepaw, after investigating.

"Well?" said Runningbelly. "Aren't you going to kill it?"

"Cloudstorm said to check the elders for ticks," Bluepaw said. "He never said anything about fleas." Bluepaw heard Shreddedear's amused purr over Runningbelly's hiss.

"Fine," the elder snapped. "I'll get it myself."

When Bluepaw started toward Shreddedear, the tom said, "I'm fine. Thank you, Bluepaw."

"What about Kinkedwhisker?" The extremely old queen was sleeping nearby.

"I'm sure she'll be okay," said the dark gray tom.

Leafpaw arrived, and the two apprentices swapped the elders' dirty bedding with fresh moss. Bluepaw and Leafpaw exited the elders den a lot faster than Bluepaw had hoped.

"Thanks, Leafpaw," he said.

"No problem," said the she-cat. "I'm going to go check how Willowfur is doing." She dashed toward the nursery. Bluepaw followed more slowly. After waiting for a little while, Forestpelt (who had recently received his medicine cat name) poked his head out of the den.

"Everyone is fine," he said. "The kits are born. Three toms." Leafpaw and Rosepaw both got to their paws.

"Can we come in?" asked Rosepaw. "I want to see my brothers."

"Not yet," said Forestpelt. "It's very crowded in there. Sandstripe and Whitefeather and the kits aren't allowed to come out."

"But I want to see them!" Leafpaw protested.

Forestpelt sighed. "At least wait until Blossomfur and I leave."

"Fine," said Rosepaw, reluctantly sitting back down next to Briarpaw.

"Hello." Orchidpaw approached the huddle of apprentices around the nursery. After glancing contemptuously at Bluepaw, she asked, "What's going on?" It looked as if Orchidpaw and Slashpaw had just gotten back from training.

As Leafpaw explained about Willowfur and her kits, Bluepaw caught Slashpaw's eye. The younger cat nodded in greeting, his red eyes shining in the sun.

With a jolt, Bluepaw remembered the rogue leader's eyes: they were red, like Slashpaw's. But he also remembered the other time he had seen a pair of fiery red eyes like those. It was many moons ago, when Silvertail had died. Doom, the loner, had come to see his son for the first time.

Both cats were small, with a scarred black pelt, long claws, and huge fangs.

The leader of the rouges – Graystar's murderer – was Slashpaw's father.