CHAPTER FIVE

Chantelle was used to darkness. She was used to shadows and whispers, to pawsteps and the rustling of leaves on the pavement, to the subtle sounds of the city. But she was not used to trees. Traversing the plains had been unnerving enough, but here, she felt a deep sense of unease. The trees were everywhere. They rose up around her, oak and maple and elm, rowans and birches, tall aspens and barren poplars. Without their leaves they looked threatening, macabre skeletons posed against the pale blue sky.

She didn't like it.

"It's strange here," she whispered to Alder, falling back to pad alongside him. The trio of loners had just entered ThunderClan territory – or so they assumed, given the sudden increase in scent markers – and already Chantelle was expecting a Clan patrol to jump out from the bushes. "I feel like we're being watched."

"The Tribe said that ThunderClan was at home in the forest," Alder said calmly, "but they're just cats like us. They can't talk to the trees, and they can't walk among them like spirits, either. If they're around us, we'll know, alright?"

Chantelle nodded. "Alright."

"Good," said Alder curtly, his attention straying up to Beck, who was wandering a couple of fox-lengths ahead.

She shivered and wished she could think of other things. Whenever Chantelle let her mind wander, it always led her right back to their situation. She couldn't put the cold and the fear out of her mind. The skinny black she-cat shivered again, wishing she had a body like Beck's. Then she would never be cold again. The golden tom seemed untouched by the weather as he led them through the woods, trekking on through the deep snow.

No birds sang as they walked. Once in awhile, Chantelle thought she caught the squeak of a mouse, but whenever she opened her mouth to scent, there was only the fresh, dry taste of snow and wood. She doubted she would be able to catch anything here anyway; the trees grew too thick and the snow was too deep. Back in the city, she was an expert hunter, adept at lingering in the shadows and navigating the twisting alleys. Here, her confidence had evaporated into thin air. The cloak of security she wore had completely vanished.

She thought about Beck's words, about how Alder would never love her back, and immediately wished that she hadn't. Those words were so obviously, blatantly, horribly false – Chantelle couldn't believe that she still cared what he said. Beck knew Alder better than anyone – except her – but it didn't mean anything. Alder wouldn't share his feelings with his guard; that would be ridiculous.

Glancing back up, she saw the two of them chatting idly as they walked. Alder seemed at ease, and Beck had relaxed in what was a significant manner for him. The golden tom was still looking around, his ears pricked and his shoulders tensed, but he was content to listen to Alder and mutter the occasional reply.

Then, without warning, the bushes ahead of them parted and out stepped four cats, fur bristling and lips pulled back into snarls. They were all large and intimidating, save for the fourth, a tiny she-cat who hid behind the legs of the cat beside her, a lean tom with ragged fur. Beside him stood another lithe tom, this time a light brown tabby with hard eyes. But it was the cat at the front that really stood out. He was huge, with dark grey fur, a white underbelly, and sharp yellow eyes.

"Hi," said Alder calmly. He stood beside Beck, who was doing his best to look relaxed. Chantelle had seen Beck like this before. One moment, he was calm and unthreatening. The next, he was tearing out your throat. The cat Baron had sent to kill Alder on that night had learned that lesson all too well. The memories made Chantelle flinch. The sound of thunder cracked in her head, the patter of the rain hitting the pavement, the cries of Baron's followers...

"Who are you?" asked the light brown tabby, stepping forward. His fur was bristling and he looked more unfriendly than the rest of them put together. "What are you doing on ThunderClan territory?"

Alder's eyes flickered back to Chantelle for a fraction of second. Then he swallowed and turned back to the ThunderClan warriors. "We're here seeking shelter. My mate lost her kits and the cold is so harsh. There's no prey anywhere. Please, we'd like to talk to your leader."

The tabby narrowed his eyes and gestured to Beck with his tail. "And who is this?"

"My brother," said Alder. The words were so fluid from his mouth; there was no trace of hesitation, no indication whatsoever that he was lying. "Your leader. Please."

"I say we let them have a word with Slatestar," said the tom behind him, the light grey one with the feathery fur. His eyes were mild. "Beechclaw..."

The brown tabby – Beechclaw – was still staring at them with obvious mistrust. Eventually, he let out a snort of contempt and turned away. "They're all yours, Slatestar."

Chantelle was confused until the dark grey tabby stepped forward. His yellow eyes had gentled, though they still burned with a fierce curiosity. When he spoke, his voice was honest but firm. "Lucky for you three, I'm right here. Tell me about your plight. Why should I take you in when I have so many of my own mouths to feed?"

Alder and Beck exchanged glances. "We can hunt and fight," said Alder calmly. He commanded respect, yet not by brute force or threatening words. Respectful and passive, he rarely let glimpses of his true self show. Chantelle had seen his core once or twice, and it was more beautiful than she had ever imagined. Her eyes drifted over his body until she slowly became aware that he was still talking. "Beck, my brother, is a natural fighter. He would be good to have around. We won't cause any trouble, I promise. My mate, Chantelle, is tired, and every since the kits died... she hasn't been the same. She needs food and rest. Like I said, it would only be for a few moons, and it would mean so much to us. Please. We'll repay you as best we can."

Slatestar was silent. His gaze swept over them, piercing, neutral. Chantelle wondered if he could see through the lie. The Tribe had promised that ThunderClan had no supernatural powers, but she didn't quite believe them. After all, the Clans still believed their ancestors were watching over them, and anything to do with spirits sent prickles down her spine.

Eventually, the grey tom dipped his head. "Beck, Chantelle...is this your wish as well?"

"Yes," said Chantelle in a frail voice. Beck nodded.

"Slatestar, you can't be serious!" the light brown tabby, Beechclaw, cried out. "We don't even know them. Think about the kits!"

"No harm will come to your kits, Beechclaw," said Slatestar, voice soft but firm. "These guests will not be left unsupervised. But the Clans have been at peace for too long, and I feel something stirring. It wouldn't be wise to turn away any help. We can use all the extra paws we can get."

"Thank you," murmured Alder. His voice was smooth and nonthreatening. Chantelle had only seen him truly angry once before – not counting the flashes of temper when she mentioned his father or Baron – and it had scared her. Alder was not made of fire like the rest of them, not made of warm flesh or muscle. He was made of water, as tranquil as a pond, and when he was truly upset, he was ice.

The memory crossed her mind and she banished it immediately. That was a bad memory. That had been before. Chantelle swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. If only she could get rid of it. After all, everything was different now...wasn't it?

"Don't thank me yet," said Slatestar softly. "I'll want to speak with you more first. But in the meantime, you've earned the right to come back to camp with us. Beechclaw, Owlfeather, escort them. Mousepaw, I want you to run ahead to Nettleclaw. Let him know what's going on."

The she-cat nodded and took off. Owlfeather and Beechclaw fell into positions around them, encircling the loners. The two groups had even numbers, but despite Beck's fighting prowess, Chantelle knew they couldn't overpower the ThunderClan cats if they tried. Slatestar was a force by himself, and the two warriors had the lean, hard builds of forest cats.

Alder dropped back to walk beside her once more. "Nervous?" he asked.

She searched his eyes for any signs of the bright emotion she craved from him, but there was only gentle curiosity. Chantelle hesitated before shaking her head. "Of course not."

"Really?" His words had an air of subdued surprise. "I rather feel like we're walking into the lion's den. Don't trust these cats, Chantelle, not even for a second."

.

Chantelle was finding it easy to obey Alder's words as she sat at the edge of ThunderClan camp. Alder was inside Slatestar's den, discussing their situation with the dark grey tabby, but she and Beck were being kept outside, guarded by the same warriors from earlier.

It was warmer in the ThunderClan camp, guarded as they were by the looming rock walls, but Chantelle was still shivering, her breath hanging like mist in the air in front of her. The dens around her were laced with frost, and under her paws was a thick layer of snow, pressed down against the earth by countless pawsteps. She felt another tremor go through her, more violent than the others, and her teeth began to chatter.

"Cold?" said a friendly voice. Chantelle looked up, surprised. Neither one of her guards had moved, or even glanced at her, so it couldn't have been them. She looked to the side and saw a golden-brown tabby heading toward her. He was larger than her escorts, with broad shoulders, though his soft face and grinning green eyes gave away his age. She put him at a few months younger than she was, though she couldn't be sure.

"No," she said stiffly. To her surprise, her visitor just twitched his whiskers in amusement.

"If you're going to join the Clan, you don't have to pretend to be strong," he mewed. "We all look out for each other here. That's how it goes."

"She's not going to join the Clan, Elmheart," interjected Beechclaw stiffly. "They're just staying for a moon, and that's if Slatestar allows them."

The golden-brown tom – Elmheart – ignored him, still speaking to Chantelle. "I heard you lost your kits. That must have been hard for you. I'm sorry."

"What do you know about loss?" she asked him, though not as harshly as she might have. While the story about losing her kits was a lie, Chantelle still felt a pang of sorrow when she thought about her home in the city. She had given up everything for something she could never have, and the bitterness sank into her.

He looked surprised. "More than I should, at my age," Elmheart admitted.

"Elmheart!" snapped Beechclaw, growing exasperated. "Will you stop chatting with her! Be loyal to your Clan. Just because Slatestar has allowed her in camp doesn't mean that you have to be her friend."

Chantelle thought of Alder's words: don't trust any of them. She didn't, not really. The black she-cat had been hurt before, and she had learned her lesson. But part of her wanted to trust Elmheart. He seemed kind, and besides, it would be useful to have an ally in the Clan. Alder couldn't fault her that, not if it was strategy.

The golden tabby grimaced. "Seems like I'm being ordered to leave you," he mewed, but even as the words left his mouth, his green eyes glowed with humour. Yet Chantelle – practiced from trying to discern things in Alder's eyes – noticed a weariness in his gaze, a sadness that lurked at the edges, distant but yet so present. The clarity of the emotion made her flinch.

As Elmheart turned and left, Chantelle thought about what she had seen. There had been no wall in his eyes, no attempt to hide his feelings from the rest of the world. It was different, and while it was a weakness on his part, Chantelle found it interesting.

Slatestar's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see the tom standing on the ledge overlooking camp, Alder by his side. Then ThunderClan's leader called her name and she found herself padding toward him, realizing that at this moment, everything was about to change.

x x x

Kitetail tried to dribble water down Dawnpaw's throat. He placed the drenched scrap of moss in her mouth, hoping some natural instinct would cause her to suck the water from it. But there was no change in her condition, and for what seemed like the thousandth time, her mouth remained still. It frustrated Kitetail beyond measure. He was supposed to be their medicine cat, but this was his first major task, and he couldn't do anything about it. If Dawnpaw didn't eat or drink, she was in danger of wasting away. But he couldn't nourish her, couldn't wake her up, couldn't explain what had happened to the rest of the Clan.

It weighed on him.

The she-cat lay spread out in her nest, chest rising slowly and feebly. Her breathing had slowed remarkably, and Kitetail assumed her whole body was slowing down to save energy. It was lucky in that it gave her more time to live, but he didn't know what would happen if she stayed like this for too long. Would her systems eventually shut down? Would she be trapped in a permanent state of sleep?

"How is she?" Slatestar appeared at the entrance to his den, concern in his eyes.

"The same as before," mewed Kitetail, hoping he didn't sound too frustrated. "I don't know what to do, Slatestar." The leader had always been fair to him, even kind, and Kitetail felt comfortable expressing his doubt to the tom. He was the only cat in ThunderClan that Kitetail truly trusted, except for Dawnpaw. For some inexplicable reason, she had always been kind to him, striving to make sure he was always comfortable. Now, however, that kindness was lost.

"Has Birchcloud ever seen anything like this?" asked Slatestar.

Kitetail shook his head. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him yet. I mean, I saw him, and I told him what had happened...but he was busy. He promised to get back to me soon." The brown tabby missed Birchcloud so badly it hurt. He thought of the medicine cat as his true father, the one who had cared for him no matter what, who had protected him from Falconswoop, who had only encouraged his dreams. Now it seemed as though they were drifting apart. The grey tabby had told him that he needed to find his own way as a medicine cat. He was part of ThunderClan now, and there could be no more tethers.

Slatestar sighed. "I don't want to act like Dawnpaw's safety is not of importance, but I was hoping we could talk about something else."

"The loners?" Kitetail said. It was barely a question.

"Yes," said the dark grey tom. "I was wondering if StarClan had sent you a sign about them. I wonder if our ancestors guided them our way, if they're meant to be here."

Kitetail's dreams had been confusing at best. Sleeping beside the Moonpool, he had caught glimpses of StarClan, odd grey eyes and whispered words. The lake will run red. But it seemed like they were hesitant to tell him more. "No," he told Slatestar at last. "Nothing about the loners."

"You'll tell me if something does come up, right?" asked Slatestar. The medicine cat wondered if his leader was anxious. He had never seen Slatestar worried before, and he had always dreaded the day he would. Yet the tom was doing a good job of holding his composure now, so Kitetail let the thought drop.

"Of course," he promised. The dark brown tabby was unnerved by the loners, though he couldn't say why. There was more to them than met the eye, of that he was certain.

"Good," said Slatestar, and left. That was the way the tom was: no ceremony. Kitetail had learned a few things about Slatestar during his time in ThunderClan. His leader was quiet, firm, powerful, and more than anything, liked to be left alone.

He had learned something else too, Kitetail remembered as he watched the tom's tail disappear behind the ice-encrusted ferns. Something that had come to him in bits and pieces from the others, something that Kitetail would never repeat. Family problems were family problems. He knew that better than anyone, and he knew to leave them alone.

"Kitetail." Thickfur was in the den now. He was shorter than his father, with a bulkier build, but his gaze was the same. His amber eyes glanced down at Dawnpaw and then back up at the medicine cat.

The dark brown tabby narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Yes?" He knew Thickfur came to visit Dawnpaw often, but the grey tabby usually waited until Kitetail wasn't there to intrude. It perplexed the medicine cat – it wasn't often that he saw Thickfur caring about another cat. He also knew that Thickfur would never have showed that level of emotion if Dawnpaw was awake. The she-cat had told him all sorts of stories about her mentor's cruelty, though Kitetail always got the feeling that part of her was genuinely fond of the gruff grey tom.

"Don't let the loners in here," said Thickfur. "I don't care if they've stepped on a thorn or if they've been mauled by a badger. Treat them somewhere else. I don't want any of them near her. Ever."

Kitetail blinked. "You don't think...?"

"All I know is that she can't defend herself." The warrior's voice was stone. "And I can't always be around to look out for her. So don't let any of them in." Thickfur ground out the words, and once he was certain that Kitetail understood him, he turned and swept out of the den.

Kitetail slumped backwards, suddenly exhausted. Everything was so confusing, and he wondered if there was a reason it was so close together. The loners. Dawnpaw's mysterious illness. The feeling of dread within him whenever he caught WindClan's scent.

Something was going to happen, and soon.

The lake will run red.

Grey eyes.

X X X X X X X

A/N: So, this was mainly a Point A to Point B chapter. That being said, we get some more info from Chantelle, as well as some more characterization on Alder's part. He and Beck are turning out to be a lot different than I initially intended when I plotted this months ago, which is undoubtedly a great thing.

Please forgive me for the crap that I liked to call prose. This chapter had so many awkward phrases, it was ridiculous. On the bright side, Kitetail! He's settling in, definitely a bit older, but it's still nerve-wracking for him. We haven't really had the chance to see him interact with other ThunderClan cats, so I'll try to remedy that in the future.

Next chapter has a brief flash to Fogpaw as well as a surprise POV, which will feature heavily throughout the rest of the story. I'm writing it almost as I type this, and I'm a bit alarmed by the lack of dialogue, so expect an overcompensation of boring conversations throughout. Just kidding, mostly.

frostfeather: I like how you phrased that, the bad things that come out at night. That has a real chill to it. I'm glad you found the chapter cool, and that you're sympathizing with Dawnpaw.

Coqui's Song: Hey now, Pawn was pretty dark! Well, mostly with the Branchpaw stuff. That being said, yeah, this one is going to be a whole lot darker for Dawnpaw. Lecturing about the benefits of love won't help her now. As to your other question, I love Thickfur, so I would never just kill him off unduly. That being said, you know what authors do with characters that they love - they torture them, strip their happiness away, kill them off brutally... I may just be messing with you. Or not.

Blackish: First off, Shredtail and Worm. I chose Shred for a couple of reasons. Yes, his name is cool and so is the whole "spaghetti tail", but he has a few good lines in the books which I believe give him more depth than some of the other Dark Forest cats who are just like "kill, kill, evil, evil." He definitely has some mood swings; he's trying to help Dawnpaw and be nice to her, but he's not the most patient of cats, and he doesn't really have much experience saving lost apprentices from evil spirits.

Worm is...he's complicated. The whole "I just wanted a taste" thing, yeah, seems a bit comically odd, but...it's hard to explain. There's a reason his name is Worm; he's a coward, he's sulky and resentful, but there will hopefully be moments where the audience can almost feel bad for him. I plan to do something with him relevant to the plot, as opposed to just throwing him in as a "cool creepy character."

You're probably right about me rushing on the Thickfur thing. Having thought about it now, though, I've realized that he's aware he can't forget about his memories like he wants, and is angry about that. That's about the depth of his introspection on that issue.

ScourgexScarlet: Oh, like I was wondering what your FFN name means :3

Juniperleaf of BlazeClan: I hope it wasn't too confusing! Yeah, Dawnpaw was pretty disoriented. Her next POV should clear a few things up, though, and give her situation a more solid feel. Ciao!

The Last Clan: Shredtail is very suspicious. Don't trust him. Except trust him more than anyone else you would meet in the Dark Forest. It's a difficult line to draw.

Kartlin: Sometimes I have to sacrifice the happiness of the readers for the sake of the plot. That being said, I've promised to resolve everybody's emotions by the end of the trilogy.

If any of my review replies are lame, I apologize. I'm super-tired right now, but I need to finish this chapter's note so I can put it up when I get home tomorrow. My plan to always have pre-written chapters has completely failed. Look for the next one on Monday evening!

I love you guys, as always.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)