Alright. It took a little longer than I thought it would, and it's considerably longer than the last few chapters and I can't decide if I should be proud of it or hate its guts, but here it is: Chapter Three: Death's Shadow. And, for our new POV... I give you, Whitepaw! There's going to be one last POV for this story which is planned to be introduced in the next chapter. PLANNED. This chapter was supposed to be only seven pages long, but it ended up being nearly fourteen. Things... change. I suppose. Anyway, as always to ensure that future readers will be delighted when they go back and read, I ask you to search for any spelling or grammar errors in this chapter, as because of it's length, I KNOW there will be some in there.

tufted titmouse: And, as I promised, I delivered! Enjoy the romance and... I don't know. Enjoy it more!

GlimmerIcewood: That you! One of my pet peeves are prophecies and how easy they are to decipher. HOWEVER I may be giving something away in this chapter. MAY... PROBABLY... KINDA SORTA... IF YOU SQUINT- yeah, just go on and read the chapter.

"Let me get this one, Whitepaw. I heard a story of a cat who was blinded when a bird scratched his eyes."

"Father, you said that about the last two as well, can I please try to catch this one?""

"No, I told you, you could get hurt if you go after this one. We'll find a nice, fat mouse for you to practice with first.'

"Father, one of those two was a mouse."

"It was a dangerous-looking mouse, if you ask me. Now be quiet and let me hunt."

Whitepaw sighed and flopped onto her belly, quiet enough so that the feeding birds in front of them didn't hear. Cloudtail, her father, crouched next to her, his blue eyes fixed on a smaller bird with a twisted leg. With the ease of a practiced hunter, Cloudtail surged forward, smooth as silk and silent as a shadow. Whitepaw watched with half-open eyes as her father caught the bird with the lame leg, scattering the others as he did so, and brought it back to her. He dropped it in front of her and Whitepaw looked away. Cloudtail frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Whitepaw mumbled. Of course it was nothing. It was always nothing. The NOTHING that Whitepaw was doing whenever Cloudtail took her out to 'teach' her.

Whitepaw had been apprenticed for almost two moons now, and she had yet to even get a full tour of the forest. Her mother, Brightheart, had died three moons before from an infected bite during a border skirmish, and Cloudtail had insisted on mentoring his daughter. Firestar had agreed, thinking to foster a powerful bond between father and daughter…

… except Cloudtail didn't teach Whitepaw anything. Her first day of being an apprentice was spent cleaning the elder's den and clearing out the rotten food from the fresh-kill pile. Her second day was going to fetch wet moss for the queens to lick, and the cleaning out the nursery. Her third day was going to sunning rocks to practice hunting. Hunting for herbs, that is, as Cloudtail had brought along Cinderpelt. Oh, they practiced hunting for prey that day too, but only the basic hunting crouch. Every day was like that. Cleaning. Fetching. Practice a pretty pose and then moving on. Cloudtail had let her catch one thing today, a half-blind, half-dead mole that was stuck under a rock. The rest, the mouse, the finch, the vole, and the sparrow, had all been his kills. Though the way he acted was like she had killed all of those.

Cloudtail frowned, "Well it's obviously not nothing. Do you feel alright? Are you feverish? Did you get a cut anywhere?"

"No, Father, I'm fine," Whitepaw said. Perhaps a bit too harshly. Cloudtail narrowed his eyes and flicked his tail.

"There's no reason to give me that tone of voice. Tell me what's wrong and I'll solve it for you."

"I don't want you to solve it for me."

"Whitepaw."

Whitepaw said nothing. Cloudtail sighed.

"I'll let you catch the next one, I promise."

"You said that about almost all the prey we've caught today."

"Well I mean it this time."

"Foxdung," Whitepaw snarled and Cloudtail's eyes opened wide, "You never let me do anything. You know what Spiderpaw and Molepaw are doing today? They're having battle practice, and I wanted to go along with them but you won't let me. You told me I could go the next time. But that's exactly what you told me the last time, and the time before that."

"I've watched Spiderpaw and Molepaw fight and they're too rough for you. It's too dangerous, and you're not strong enough."

"I'm strong enough! And I'll never going to get stronger if you don't let me fight!"

"I never intend to let you fight. I'm here to protect you, and I'm not going to lose you like how I lost your mother."

"I'm not Mother and I never will be! I want to fight, Father. I want to hunt to learn all the things that Spiderpaw and Molepaw are learning."

"You are learning-"

"No I'm not! I'm not and I feel stupid and it's all because of you."

"Whitepaw!" Cloudtail snarled, "Don't you dare-"

"I hate you. I hate you I hate you I hate you. I wish that badger had come six moons earlier, so Mother and I would both be rid of you."

"Whitepaw!"

But Whitepaw had already turned and ran into the woods as fast as she could. Though a forest that was hardly even half-familiar with her, and in a direction she had never been before. Cloudtail could chase her all she liked, for all she cared. But she could make herself run faster. Make herself run farther than he ever was able to. So far away that she wasn't covered by the shadow of her Mother's death. So far away that she could feel what it was like to be in danger.

The thunderpath. Whitepaw stared at the other side and the tall pine trees and scraggly thorn bushes that bordered the thunderpath. ShadowClan territory. She hadn't realized how far she had come. Whitepaw stood at the edge of the thunderpath, panting but no less angry. She watched the other side for a long time, not knowing why exactly. Her father's face was still in front of her, lips curled and snarling.

I'm not going to lose you like I lost your mother!

Whitepaw growled impatiently and lashed her tail. How dare he! Her own father, trying to discourage her from practicing, hunting, learning! She would show him. She would show him that she was a great warrior, that she would someday be the greatest in all the Clans. She would show him that she wasn't delicate, she wasn't a fragile herb to be dried out and tucked into the corner of a den. She was a warrior and by StarClan, she was going to prove it!

With hardly a glance in either direction Whitepaw darted across the thunderpath. The hot, black rock was sticky under her soft paws and burned, but Whitepaw ignored it, her frustration giving her courage and speed. And then her toes touched soft, slightly damp dirt, and Whitepaw slowed to a stop. Was that really it? Whitepaw turned back, looking at the strip of strange black rock. What that all the thunderpath really was? A mere dash across the camp? It hardly looked that wide, now that she was on the other side.

The other side.

Whitepaw felt excitement surge inside of her. She was there; she was on the other side! The other side!

Whitepaw froze, catching the smell of a ShadowClan scent marker, reminding her to be careful. She had never met a hostile cat before. She'd never even met a ShadowClan cat before, never having gone to a Gathering. All she knew were kit stories from the elders, who whispered that the icy winds of the north blew over ShadowClan and made their hearts just as frigid and cold. That ShadowClan was the most ferocious of the Clans, known for their powerful attacks and ruthless cunning. That they kidnapped kits to force them to be their own warriors.

Whitepaw suddenly felt very cold, and glanced back over the thunderpath, towards the warm deciduous trees of ThunderClan territory and then the tall, stark trees in ShadowClan. Whitepaw started to take a step back towards home.

It's too dangerous for you, you're not strong enough.

Whitepaw stopped and pressed her ears flat against her skull, then lowered herself into a hunter's crouch and began to creep deeper into ShadowClan territory.

ShadowClan territory was vastly different than ThunderClan. For one thing it was far more wet, as Whitepaw was soon to realize that her white fur easily picked up the mud from the murky pools. It was also a great deal more barren than she realized, the shrubs were few and patchy, the trees not sprouting branches until many tail-lengths above her. Every once in a white she would snag a paw on one of the tree roots or a patch of thorn and curse to herself, then continue along ShadowClan territory.

She didn't really know what she was looking for. A warrior, perhaps? Someone she could shred up real nice and tear off a bit of their ear and bring it back to ThunderClan to her father, to prove to him that she was strong. Or perhaps she could steal their prey. Yes! Hunt prey in their lands, proving that she could hunt and was bold enough to enter another Clan's territory! Brilliant!

No sooner had she thought of this, Whitepaw stumbled over a lump in a drier area of the swamps, unearthing the bushy, dusty tail of a dead squirrel. Whitepaw pawed at it more, and uncovered the entire thing. Perfect! A hunting patrol had probably buried this and was planning to come back and get it. She dug her paws under it and lifted it to the surface. The squirrel was nice and plump, and she grinned as she picked it up, trying to hide a giggle of glee. Her father wouldn't think her as weak after this!

"Cedarheart, pick up that squirrel you caught earlier and we'll head back to camp."

"Right away, Russetfur."

Whitepaw felt her blood run cold. The hunting patrol!

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Not now. They can't be coming now.

But they were. Whitepaw could smell them coming closer and felt her stomach drop and her heart leap into her chest. No, they couldn't find her! She turned and ran, stumbling back along the path she vaguely remembered, sniffing the air desperately over the squirrel and mud around her, trying to find her scent, ThunderClan's scent, the scent of the thunderpath, for StarClan's sake! But she couldn't smell anything, and kept running.

"Russetfur, it's not here."

"What?" an agitated hiss, "If one of those rogues stole our prey again… Come, Cedarheart, we'll track him."

Tracking? No! Whitepaw skidded to a stop, glancing around. She needed to hide her scent, and fast. A deeper pool of water caught her eye and she darted for it, splashing into it up to her belly and then wading to a thicker bush of thorns. Mud squished up between her toes and clung to her fur in heavy clots, but Whitepaw ignored it, squeezing under the bush, she sunk deeper into the mud, up to her ankles and pressed herself deeper into it, up to her belly, where the water washed over her back and muddied it as well. She dunked her head beneath the surface of the muddy water, coating her fur with mud completely, and then flattened herself beneath the bush just as a pair of warriors leaped through the bushes she had just come from.

"You smell it?" growled a large she-cat with dark ginger fur. Her dark green eyes were blazing as she scanned the forest. Whitepaw struggled not to tremble, not even to lower herself deeper into the mud, lest she notice. She had heard this cat's name before. Russetfur, the ferocious deputy of ShadowClan. She had once been a rogue, and was considered to be one of the most elite warriors in the forest. She paced, sniffing the ground and growling. The other cat was more slender and taller, but still far larger than Whitepaw. His eyes were bright and a warm amber color and his fur was dark gray. He tilted his head as he looked at the ground, sniffing thoughtfully.

"I'll check in this direction, you check over there." Russetfur ordered. The tom, Cedarheart, Whitepaw guessed, nodded and began to walk along the bank of the pool Whitepaw had waded into. Whitepaw pressed herself lower and lower into the mud as he neared, until she could see the texture of his fur and the dust caught between the hairs. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to StarClan that he would not see her. For a few moments she heard nothing. Tentatively, Whitepaw opened her eyes.

And was nose-to-nose with the gray tom.

Whitepaw's breath caught in her throat. Icy claws gripped her lungs. Fear roared in her ears. She felt her claws dig into the mud that was now past her belly. Everything physical in her body told her freeze rather than run, no matter how much her brain tried to force it. Whitepaw said nothing, not breathing, not blinking. The tom blinked twice, still staring at Whitepaw, and then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No doubt he would be able to smell the ThunderClan scent on her from so close. Then the cat stood, and called over his shoulder:

"There's nothing over here, Russetfur. Have you found anything?"

What?

"Nothing but the smell of those ThunderClan scum. If they've crossed the border than I'll have my teeth in Firestar before the moon has turned."

"We're close to the thunderpath, they could have just remarked their borders, and the wind is coming from the south today."

What?

"And the squirrel?"

"There's a fresh foxscent here. A fox probably ran off with it."

WHAT?

"Fox?" Russetfur growled from a distance away, "StarClan knows we need another one of those. Come, we'll go back to camp and tell Blackstar and warn the queens. "

"Good idea." Cedarheart turned back to Whitepaw and said, in a quieter voice, "If you want to make it back to ThunderClan with your pelt in one piece, say where you are until sunset."

Without waiting for a reply, Cedarheart turned and ran after Russetfur, leaving Whitepaw up to her belly in mud and up to her ears in trouble.

Cold and wet and hungry. Whitepaw tensed when her belly grumbled, and tried again to free herself from the mud. She had sunk in far deeper than she expected, and what was once around her ankles was now up to her shoulders and flanks, and impossible to move in. She fretted over passing cats hearing her belly growling or even her chattering teeth. She hadn't been able to get them to stop and so had forced her muzzle into the mud to quiet them. But this only made her even colder more miserable. Whitepaw grumbled in frustration and tried to lift her paws again, but they were stuck fast, the mud making an ugly sucking noise when she pulled will all of her might but still not giving. She sniffed and then lowered her face into the mud and began to cry quietly.

She was so hungry and cold and wet and scared and alone and…

"You're still here, I see."

Whitepaw snapped her head up to come face-to-face with the gray tom again, Cedarheart. How had he snuck up on her? She hadn't heard him coming, hadn't smelled him… But he wasn't looking at her, he was examining the thorn bush she was lodged under and pawing at it, moving the thorns aside. Despite his promise to help her, Whitepaw felt herself shrinking back into the mud, further away from him. Cedarheart caught this and narrowed his eyes.

"Don't do that. You'll only get yourself stuck even more. Just wait a moment." He pawed another piece of thorn aside until he could fit his head and shoulders beneath the plant without much difficulty, and then took a closer look at her situation, "You've got yourself deep into the scroggs, best I've seen since Rowanclaw fell in backwards."

Despite her fear and chattering teeth, Whitepaw had to ask: "S-s-s-crog-g-s?"

"It's what we call the deep mud you've so fantastically decided to make a nest in. Kits are usually the ones who get stuck in them. Blind ones, that is."

"A-a-are you c-calling m-me a b-blind-d k-kit? I-I'm an a-ap-aprentice!" Whitepaw tried her best to snap, but failed miserably. Cedarheart laughed a little.

"Ah, then you're worse, that makes you blind, deaf, and a thorn in the paw."

"D-dumb Sh-ShadowClan…"

"Ah, and loud. Can't forget that."

Whitepaw muttered something under her breath and Cedarheart finally nodded, finishing his assessment.

"I'm going to start to pull you up. While I'm doing it, pull up as hard as you can with one of your front legs, it should be enough to dislodge you, and then pull on the other one. We'll go from there." And then he bent and gripped Whitepaw by the scruff like a kit. Without bothering for an answer he began a steady pressure on her, lifting her slowly from the mud. Whitepaw struggled with one paw, heaving as hard as she could and, to her surprise, managing to pull one leg free from the mud. She tried the other leg. It was harder, and her shoulder joint popped, but she got it free as well, and Cedarheart pulled her closer to the drier area.

"Don't try to stand just yet," he told her quickly, "Lay on your belly, spread the weight around you as much as possible and then try to work your back legs up one at a time, slowly."

Whitepaw did as she was told and, after a while and a little more coaching, she managed to free both her back legs. Cedarheart quickly grabbed her scruff and pulled her onto the dry land and stepped back. Whitepaw tried to stand, but she had never felt more exhausted in her entire life. Every muscle in her body felt iced-over and weak, she felt like she was less than a kit, a beetle a kit could bowl her over with a laugh. A frozen beetle, that is, and covered with mud. Cedarheart came closer and sniffed her, then grabbed her scruff again and pulled her upright.

"H-hey, what a-are you d-doing?" Whitepaw struggled weakly in his teeth as he set her on her paws again. Her legs trembled when he released her, and then she collapsed, shivering. Cedarheart sighed.

"How long did you try to get out of that mud?"

"I s-stopped trying a-about an h-hour b-before you c-came."

"You know that saying 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again?' That doesn't mean try the exact same thing over and over again, especially if you are trapped in the scroggs."

"O-oh t-trot off, you s-smelly toad."

"Not until you get to your feet. Come on, try again."

"But I'm c-cold. I-I'm so h-hungry and…"

"Well you should have thought of this before you decided to hunt in ShadowClan territory. Come on, try again."

Whitepaw struggled to gather her legs under her but couldn't find the strength to push against the ground. She flopped over and Cedarheart shook his head with a sigh:

"Again. Up."

"B-but I'm cold."

"That's part of being a warrior, learning how to deal with things you don't like. Now up, try again."

Whitepaw gritted her teeth and pushed again, as hard as she could. Cedarheart grabbed her scruff again and hauled her up, and she managed to collect her legs beneath her, shaky as they were. She began to stumble but Cedarheart caught and steadied her, then nodded.

"Good. We're not far from the thunderpath at all. I can get you across, but you have to get yourself to your camp."

"Th-the camp? But it's so f-far…"

"Should have thought of that before trespassing. Did you eat that squirrel?"

"N-no."

Cedarheart stepped back and picked up the squirrel, then brought it to her again, "Eat, it'll give you enough strength to get back to you camp. You'll warm up when we start walking."

"B-but-"

"Eat."

Whitepaw lowered her head and did as she was told. The mud and the squirrel made her belly hot, almost burning, but she ignored it and kept eating. Cedarheart was right, she would never be able to get back to the camp without more energy. She felt stronger after she finished, but no less cold, and managed to stand and take a few wobbly steps by herself while Cedarheart buried the bones of the squirrel near the 'scroggs.' Then, not saying much more, he took a place by her side and helped guide her through the swamp, grabbing her scruff and steadying her if she began to trip or stumble. He was right about the walk as well, it did warm her body considerably. But the progress was painfully slow, and as the trees cleared, Whitepaw realized that it was well past midnight, and in a few hours, dawn would long had she been stuck in that mud?

Whitepaw didn't think she could ever be happy to smell the acidic, rotting stench of the thunderpath. But she was, and with Cedarheart's help, climbed the small slope to the thunderpath's edge. The thunderpath was quiet, and Whitepaw watched as Cedarheart pressed an ear to the strange black rock and nodded.

"No monsters for a while. Come, we can make it across easily."

After tottering through the soft, squishy bog for hours, walking on solid rock was strange, and Whitepaw's balance became considerably worse. But Cedarheart steadied her again and continued to help her across the strange rock path, sometimes pushing and sometimes pulling her, always gentle with his touch and never sharp with his words. Whitepaw collapsed at the other side, breathing in deeply the smell of the ThunderClan scent markers. Cedarheart sat and watched her for a moment, and then stood and headed back to the thunderpath.

"Wait!" Whitepaw scrambled to her feet again, shaking still. Cedarheart paused at the edge of the thunderpath and looked back to her curiously, "You're name is Cedarheart, right?"

"That's correct," Cedarheart said cautiously.

"My name is Whitepaw," she said, "Will I see you again?"

"At the Gatherings, perhaps, or in battle. Or when we're dead. Any of those work for you?"

"The Gathering would be nice. But… but what about the squirrel? I need to pay you back for the squirrel."

"Squirrel, shmerrel. It was a lazy creature, hardly even worth the effort to kill it. Just pretend like none of this ever happened, kit-"

"-Apprentice-"

"-turkey, I don't care. Walk silently, and you might want to get clean before you go to camp. Farewell, Whitepaw."

And Cedarheart bounded across the thunderpath, vanishing into ShadowClan territory. Whitepaw watched the place he had vanished for a long time before turning back to her own forest, and walking in the opposite direction. Something in her belly began to stir, similar to the time Spiderpaw was sharing tongues with her but stronger, and a little… lighter. Light clouds were caught in her belly and heart. Whitepaw smiled and looked over her shoulder one last time at the ShadowClan territory. She would make sure that wasn't the last she would see of Cedarheart.

Trah-daahhhh! Romance!

It's a bit of a crack pairing, being Whitepaw and Cedarheart, but there is method to my madness. I chose Cedarheatr for several reasons, mostly because (a) I hate Birchfall and (b) I love his name. And he was such a blank slate I can pretty much do anything with him. For example, the entire time I was writing this chapter I was picturing him talking in a British accent. Who knew?

And as a side note, another reason this chapter took a little longer than it was supposed to: I'm planning another story! (dances)

You can look up into my profile for the summary, but for those of you who are too lazy to do that, I'll just summarize it right here: It's a story of Brokenstar's rise to power and why the five cats who left with him (Jaggedtooth, Blackfoot, Boulder, Clawface, and Russetfur) did so. I'm taking a few liberties of my own, such as Jaggedtooth and Russetfur being siblings, and I still haven't figured out the structure, but I'll keep you posted and keep on working!

And, as a reminder, review! I love reviews. That make my tummy warm and happy :)