Larkpaw lay curled up beside Wolfkit, limbs shivering beneath his thin, glossy pelt of fur. The little kit was exhausted from their trek through DuskClan territory, and now she had fallen asleep where they sat carefully concealed in a thick clump of ferns.

Unlike the carefree kitten, he hadn't been able to put his mind to rest. The closeness of the graveyard—of his friends, his family—was driving him mad with impatience. Larkpaw didn't think he'd be able to stay still until late day. The sun was only just rising, and he already felt like he'd been hiding for moons. There was no way he could restrain himself until Diamondpaw arrived.

Honestly, the only thing keeping him in one spot was the tiny kit resting peacefully at his side. Moving would disturb her, and he felt he had a responsibility to preserve Wolfkit's bliss. It was an odd feeling. She was still a constant reminder of what he had longed for but could never have—but that didn't mean she was a despicable cat. Stubborn and excitable as she was, Larkpaw was grateful for the little kit's company.

"Larkie?" she mumbled sleepily. He felt a weird, warm feeling that was almost like pride at the sound of her speaking his name. Larkpaw had no idea why; he hadn't dealt much with young kits before.

"What is it?" Larkpaw asked, wondering why she had awoken.

She yawned, stretching out her delicate, wiry-furred limbs. "No more sleep," she announced, her voice still drowsy.

Wolfkit tried to stand, but Larkpaw nudged her back to the ground. "Go back to sleep," he meowed softly. "You'll need your rest."

The she-kit grumbled for only a little while longer before she settled down to sleep again. Larkpaw felt a stab of pain at the cruelty of the world. He had come to care for this kit as if she were his own kin, but really, she would never be his. It was all too similar to his situation with Tawnystripe. He wouldn't know what to do when the time came to let go.

Larkpaw tried to quiet his worries and lay down his head to sleep.

/

He awoke to the bright glare of Sunhigh, filtering through the mess of branches and slowly browning leaves that sheltered Wolfkit and him from any prying eyes.

Wolfkit had apparently been up for a short while, as she sat a mouse-length away, watching him carefully with her head cocked to the side. Her eyes were already bright with new energy. Larkpaw brought himself to his feet, and noticed that he, too, had more strength after his much-needed rest. He hadn't slept for nearly two days, as he'd been awake the entire night of the assault and had only barely dozed off while waiting for Diamondpaw to return after their first meeting.

But beneath that energy, Larkpaw was impatient. It was still a long while before late day, and he was more sure than ever that he couldn't sit still until then.

With a troubled sigh, he stretched out his aching legs and widened his jaws in a yawn. The little morning routine made him think wistfully of his old life in the Clan, when he would wake up next to his sister and friends with his life and dreams still intact. It made him realize how quickly everything had come crashing down, and that thought made him even more anxious to advance on the graveyard, where his family and friends were held captive.

Larkpaw drew his mind away from that line of thoughts and glanced at his kitten companion. Wolfkit had decided to mimic him, and was leaning down into a stretch, her tiny mouth opened wide in an exaggerated gesture. He barely restrained a laugh as she lost her balance and stumbled clumsily to the side to catch herself, her thin little tail sticking straight upwards in surprise.

"Be careful," he teased, his voice low. They were still in DuskClan territory, so he didn't want to make too much noise.

The gray-furred kit righted herself, fluffing out her wiry pelt. "Am care-full!" she declared, her voice squeaky as a mouse's.

Larkpaw felt the fur on the back of his neck bristle at her shrill, probably very noticeable outburst.

"Shh," he urged her. "You've got to keep quiet."

Wolfkit looked at him indignantly. "Why quiet?" she meowed, her voice still a touch too loud for comfort.

"Because if someone hears us, we'll get captured," Larkpaw explained bluntly. Maybe it wasn't the best way to speak to a kit, but he wanted to make sure she understood the severity of danger they could be in.

His words seemed to have little effect on her. "Cap-toored?" The kit tried out the new word with confusion.

He nodded. "Captured. It's when... bad cats take you somewhere." Larkpaw struggled to explain in simple terms, knowing that the kit's vocabulary was still rather small.

Wolfkit did not grasp the concept. "Where? Wanna go!"

"No, no," he began exasperatedly, still trying to keep his tone low. "I promise you don't want to go where they'd be taking you."

"Why?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Well—because—" Larkpaw struggled to explain, knowing that the place they'd be captured and taken to was also the location they would soon be actively approaching. Finally, he decided on "because we'd be stuck there, and they wouldn't let us leave."

Wolfkit nodded hesitantly, then said, "Cap-toored here?"

"Huh?" Larkpaw meowed, unsure of what she was trying to say.

"Here!" she insisted, looking frustrated when he responded with another look of confusion. "Stuck!"

"Oh," Larkpaw said simply. She was right—they were like captives in this bush, totally dependent upon Diamondpaw's return. "You want to leave the bush?" he asked quietly, already knowing his own answer to the question.

Wolfkit nodded immediately. Larkpaw twitched his whiskers, filled with indecision. While his heart urged him to go after his family, every shred of logic within him rebelled against the sheer danger of the plan.

He sighed deeply. "Look, Wolfkit, I want to go too, but…"

Wolfkit placed her fluffy head on top of her paws, managing to look pitifully dejected. She gazed up at him with shiny, round green eyes, begging for his answer to change.

He only managed to look at her wide, pleading eyes for a few moments before giving in.

The two cats surreptitiously made their way out of the tangled clump of foliage—though Wolfkit wasn't the best at being sneaky—and began to weave their way through the decaying forest toward the graveyard.

Larkpaw, unsure of the layout of DuskClan's forest, decided that the safest approach was from the thickest part of the wood, rather than the sparse gathering of plants that bordered the mountains. There would be more plant cover to hide in, in case they were unlucky enough to encounter a DuskClan patrol or come too close to the guards' ranks.

His plan proved to be a good one. Just as he and Wolfkit were clearing the base of a massive, yet decaying larch tree, he heard the nearby voices of unfamiliar cats. Before the kit could make any noise to give them away, Larkpaw swept them both into a cluster of browning foliage, sheltered by a fallen log.

"...taking up so many warriors," one of the cats was saying as they came into earshot. Larkpaw silently signaled with his tail for Wolfkit to stay quiet, though he had no idea if she understood.

"Exactly," another cat agreed. "Did you hear about the apprentice ceremony this morning? I heard Featherstar gave Hollyfrost an apprentice because we're so short on warriors." So they're DuskClan warriors, then, Larkpaw thought, his heart racing. Had he run into a guard patrol?

"Hollyfrost?" said yet another, surprised. "Wasn't she attacked by… you know… her?"

"Yeah. I heard Ashscar nearly tore her leg off!" said the second cat. Larkpaw flinched at the sound of DawnClan's deputy's name. If Ashscar was in the battle of the assault, then that must mean she had been captured—or worse. He had always seen the deputy as invincible; it was hard to believe that she had lost a fight.

"I hate that monster of a cat," the second cat said vindictively.

One of the others laughed. "Who doesn't?"

They were very close to Larkpaw and Wolfkit now. He sent up a prayer to StarClan that Wolfkit wouldn't accidentally sneeze and give away their position.

"Do you remember the river battle, Flickerwhisker?" the third cat asked. "Ashscar was even more of a terror back then."

"No, I was back at camp that day, thank StarClan," said the cat who was apparently named Flickerwhisker. "I've heard it was—"

"What's that smell?" meowed the second cat, cutting Flickerwhisker off.

Larkpaw felt his heart leap into his throat. Wolfkit shifted uncomfortably at his side, her ears flattened against her tiny head. He wrapped his paw around the kit to keep her still.

"I don't know," said one of the other DuskClan cats suspiciously. He heard shifting outside the plants. Had they picked up his trail? He couldn't tell what was happening, and that made him nearly more nervous than the danger itself.

"Maybe it's prey," a cat meowed half-heartedly.

"I don't think it's prey," the second cat announced, their tone almost excited. "The scent smells like a cat's."

"Why would another cat be here?" the third cat said in a bored manner. "Is it one of those rogues or something? Maybe they're mad that DawnClan's in the graveyard."

Larkpaw could hear approaching pawsteps. He closed his eyes and hoped the DuskClan cats wouldn't find their hiding spot.

The second cat spoke up again. "No, I think it's—"

They were cut off as a new set of pawsteps bounded into the area, their voice much rougher and more mature than the others. "What are you three sniffing around for?" the newcomer accused, authority clearly present in their tone. "Don't you have a graveyard to guard?"

"We were guarding, Redberry," the second cat said irritably. "We just thought we smelled something."

"I don't care what you smelled! You have a job to do!" Redberry barked out.

There were quick shuffling sounds, and soon everything was silent. The cats had apparently left. Larkpaw let out a long breath of relief, and Wolfkit quickly wriggled away from him, glad to be free of his restraining paw.

Larkpaw waited a long moment before poking his nose out of the dying shrubbery. He glanced around and saw, to his relief, that there was no trace of the DuskClan patrol.

Carefully pricking his ears upward so he would hear any new sounds, he slowly emerged from the foliage, Wolfkit trailing tentatively behind him. He hoped that the group they had encountered were the only cats patrolling that part of the graveyard's entrance, but the trees blocked his view and an oddly sweet smell stopped his nose from being able to detect any other DuskClan warriors. So, unsure if they were going to encounter another patrol before they reached the edge of the graveyard, they pressed onward by slinking between clumps of concealing vegetation.

It wasn't long before Larkpaw got his answer, though definitely not in the way he would have wished to find it. He had just dragged himself out of a specifically tough tangle of bramble bushes and placed his paw on the ground in front of him, only to find that it was slick as mud. He promptly lost his balance as his paw slid out from under him, and landed awkwardly on a patch of ground that sat mere mouse-lengths away from a steep downwards slope.

The cream-furred tom got to his feet, shuddering at the clammy feel of mud between his claws, and peered over the edge of the slope. It was hard to make out what was beyond the gnarled trees and branches jutting into his view, but he caught sight of an unnaturally bright yellow object. It was colored like a giant dandelion.

"What in the world could that be?" he muttered, confused, as he briefly paused to groom the mud out of his pelt.

Wolfkit bounded up to sit beside him, and he had to stop her with his paw before she tumbled right over the edge of the steep drop. "Flower!" she declared importantly, with a voice that was much too loud for the stealth mission they were on.

Larkpaw quickly shushed her, hoping no other cats had heard. "Remember what I said about being captured?"

The little she-kit rolled her eyes and assumed a slouched posture. "Me quiet," she mumbled reluctantly.

Praying to StarClan that Wolfkit hadn't announced their presence to any particularly violent DuskClan cats, Larkpaw tried to get a better look at the sight ahead of him. He wasn't keen on falling off of the steep slope, but he needed to move further down it to see what was beyond.

A tree growing out of the dropoff sparked an idea in his mind. He quietly ordered Wolfkit to stay where she was, then lowered himself into a crouch, preparing to jump. With a few swift motions, Larkpaw had leapt out onto the tree and secured his back legs tightly around it. Carefully, he circled the trunk with one of his forepaws and leaned his head outward to see the graveyard.

The glen that sat in front of him was a sight for sore eyes. Evidently formed by the hardly trickling stream that trailed through it, the glen was only decorated by a few scraggly saplings that sprouted from the corpses of what Larkpaw assumed to be monsters. He had never seen such a beast with his own eyes before, but their round black paws and rough-looking outer skins matched the descriptions he had always heard in the elders' den. Besides that, they let off an unnatural odor that he was certain hadn't come from anything else.

Most importantly, though, were the cats that moved about the graveyard. They sat atop the skeletons of dead monsters or weaved between the piled rubbish, their pelts all wonderfully familiar. They were his Clanmates.

His breath caught as he recognized the sable pelt of his sister where she lay on the head of a monster with who he assumed was Birchpaw. They seemed to be sleeping, even though it was the middle of the day. He was glad to see her look so peaceful, but something about the aura of the Clan bothered him. They seemed… well, happy.

Larkpaw felt the jealousy encroaching into his thoughts. It was a feeling he was well-acquainted to by now. Did no one miss him? Had his Clanmates simply been lazing around a calm glen without a care in the world while he searched restlessly for their whereabouts?

No, he told himself silently. Shut up. You don't know the whole story. You can't just assume things again.

He tried to push the line of thoughts out of his mind. Larkpaw instead turned his thoughts toward ways to break his Clan out of the graveyard. While he could obviously enter the graveyard by sliding down the mud slope, that certainly wasn't a route that his Clan could escape through. He needed another entrance.

Larkpaw scanned the glen, his eyes catching on an odd sight. There was a large grey cat seated at the mouth of a dandelion yellow monster—that must have been the source of the color he'd seen before. The cat looked completely unfamiliar to him, but was speaking with who he thought might be Ashscar. He tried to smell the air, hoping to catch a trace of the stranger's scent, but the stench of carrion and monster corpses blocked him from picking anything up. Were they a DuskClan cat? Larkpaw highly doubted that a DuskClan warrior would be chatting so nicely with Ashscar.

Then who could they be? The tomcat apprentice suddenly felt his jealousy trickle away, only to be replaced with confusion and curiosity. Clearly, something more was going on here than he had originally thought.

Now that he had noticed the gray-furred cat, Larkpaw realized there were many other unfamiliar figures walking side-by-side with his friends and family. Who were these strangers?

Pondering the question, he turned back to look at the dandelion-yellow monster. It sat horizontal to the slope of the glen, directly on top of the barely babbling stream that ran through the graveyard.

Larkpaw followed the trail of the stream with his eyes, suddenly wondering where its flow began. Though he couldn't see past the yellow monster, he remembered something his mentor, Russetstorm, used to tell him.

"Rivers always flow from high to low," the ginger warrior had said one day as they walked along the border river.

"But what about this river?" Larkpaw had asked. "It flows toward the mountains. Isn't that from low to high?"

Russetstorm had shaken his head, his chest fur fluffed out arrogantly. "This river starts at the Moonfalls, yes. But it doesn't go on top of the mountains—it runs under them."

That was it. If Larkpaw could figure out which way the stream was flowing, he could find its mouth elsewhere and follow the water safely into the glen.

As if his revelation had been sensed by some otherworldly force that decided to make his life more difficult, Larkpaw heard a rustle in the browning vegetation behind him. He quickly clawed his way back up the mud slope to where Wolfkit sat impatiently.

"We've got to get going," he told her as quietly as he could manage. The sounds of pawsteps were growing closer.

"But—" she started, her voice high and whiny.

"No time for buts," he responded curtly, beginning to move away from the graveyard's edge. "Let's go."

Wolfkit sat motionless, refusing to budge. "Don't wanna."

Larkpaw sighed. He didn't have the time to deal with her stubbornness right now. It sounded like the pawsteps were nearly on top of them. He swiftly grabbed her scruff between his teeth and lifted her into the air, rushing through the foliage as quietly as he could. Wolfkit gave a few squeals of protest, but like all kits, she couldn't move much when scruffed.

Larkpaw cursed his bad luck. He had been just moments away from finding out how to infiltrate the graveyard and save his Clan. How was he going to figure out which way the stream ran now?

He raced through the woods for a while until the sounds of other cats began to fade. Hoping it was safe, he set Wolfkit down, and spat out some of her curly gray hairs that had caught in his teeth.

Wolfkit turned on him angrily. "Mean!" she squealed.

Larkpaw dipped his head in apology. "Sorry about that. I didn't want to scruff you, but there was a patrol coming."

She huffed disdainfully and plopped her hindlegs onto the ground in an awkward sitting position. Wolfkit turned her head away from him, her nose lifted so high it nearly pointed at the clouds.

Larkpaw laughed. "Come on, you aren't going to stay mad at me, are you?"

"So mad." Wolfkit meowed in response. "Mad mad mad."

The cream-furred tom began to walk away. "Okay then. I guess you won't be coming with me to hunt…"

The little kit pricked her ears, unable to hide her interest. "Hunt?" she mewed excitedly.

He nodded. "Yes, we're going to catch prey on our way back."

Wolfkit was only able to hesitate for a moment before launching herself off of the ground and catching up to him.

"Hungry," she said thoughtfully as they moved through the woods. "Want bird."

"Really?" Larkpaw meowed, his eyes widened. "I thought you didn't like feathers."

Wolfkit beamed. "Warrior eat bird!" It was the same thing he had told her, back at the sandy hollow where they had hunted the first time.

He smiled. "You're right! They do eat birds. And if you want to be a warrior, you'll have to learn how to catch one too."

The kit nodded excitedly. "Me hunt!" she squealed. Her exclamation frightened a small flock of nearby finches to rush frantically away from their perches.

Larkpaw sighed. "Well, our first lesson is going to be on staying quiet."

Wolfkit immediately lost her enthusiasm. "Boring," she groaned.

"It'll be even more boring if you scare all the birds away," Larkpaw meowed plainly. He lowered himself into a hunter's crouch. "Just follow my lead, okay?"

The she-kit nodded reluctantly, and Larkpaw allowed his brain to slip into the sharpened state it always did when he was on a hunt. Busy as his thoughts may be, every unnecessary worry and wonder slipped away once he was on the trail of a prey animal.

He had to travel far to find any fresh-kill at all, likely due to the state of the woods around him. None of DuskClan's forest was very rich in plant life, but the stretch they stood in was unnaturally bare. Maybe the graveyard was somehow affecting the woods that surrounded it. The lack of life almost reminded him of how their territory looked in Leaf-bare, even though it was still early Leaf-fall.

Finally, Larkpaw caught sight of a small thrush seated upon a low-hanging branch. He glanced back at Wolfkit, wondering if he should try to let her catch this bird. He didn't have to make a decision—Wolfkit was already prowling forward in perhaps the most awkward hunting crouch Larkpaw had ever seen.

The kit quickly stepped on a twig, snapping it and causing a resounding crack that scared the thrush away in instants. She growled in frustration.

"You've got the crouch wrong," he instructed her. "Lower your body more, so you don't make as much noise. Like this," he added, lowering into a hunter's crouch as an example.

Wolfkit tried his advice, copying his form. "Good?" she mewed.

"Yes. Now try approaching like this," Larkpaw began to creep forward, only barely placing his weight on the ground. "so you don't make quite as much noise."

Wolfkit again mirrored his movements with surprising accuracy, quietly advancing across the forest floor until she stopped to look back at him. "I hunt now?"

Larkpaw laughed. "Sure. Let's put those techniques to the test."

The tomcat pricked his ears and scented the air, hoping to catch a trace of prey. There didn't seem to be anything nearby, so he began to pad softly between the trees toward the greener parts of the wood.

It was still a long while before they found any living prey, and as soon as the two cats noticed the telltale smell of bird, Wolfkit began her hunt. The bird, sitting peacefully in the grass, looked too small to be a meal for even the youngest kit. Wolfkit approached it nonetheless.

Larkpaw watched as the kit stalked her prey. She seemed to be doing well until she was a pawstep away from the creature, at which point the bird must have caught sight of her and tried to take off into flight. Wolfkit leapt forwards to try to stop her prey from escaping, but her kit's paws were much too clumsy.

The cream apprentice approached her with a smile. "That was great, Wolfkit!"

She gave him a forlorn look. "No bird."

"Well, yes," he said with a shrug. "But that was only your first try. Most apprentices don't even do that well their first time." His words brought the image of Starlingpaw to mind, whose first hunt—well, really, most of her hunts—had been a disaster. That thought only served to remind him of his failure to find a path into the graveyard, and he shook his head to clear it.

Wolfkit looked proud, standing tall and puffing out her wild, wiry fur. "Me hunter!" she exclaimed.

"Maybe not quite yet," Larkpaw meowed with a laugh. "But soon, you will be."

They quickly returned to the hunt. Larkpaw took over the hunting duties for the two of them and managed to catch a few pieces of prey before the sun had passed its zenith. The two cats paused briefly to eat and bury their prey's bones before continuing their trek through the woods, back to the clump of ferns that Diamondpaw had promised to meet them at.

By the time they had reached the ferns, the sun had begun its descent. Diamondpaw was still nowhere in sight, which filled Larkpaw with an uncomfortable sizzle of annoyance. He had managed to scout out most of the graveyard, go on a hunting trip, and return to their rendezvous with time to spare. What was taking Diamondpaw so long that she couldn't do the same?

He settled his tired paws onto the ground and lay down to wait. Wolfkit paced beside him, apparently practicing her hunting crouch and pouncing every other second on a dapple of light cast by the swaying canopy above.

Just when his patience had nearly run out, the sky starting to lose its warm color as the sun approached the treetops, he heard a rustle outside the ferns. He quickly shushed Wolfkit, who had been diligently play-hunting, unsure if their visitor was friend or foe. His answer came quickly as Diamondpaw's small, white-furred face poked through the fronds that sheltered them from view.

"Hey," she said quietly, her voice quavering.

"Hi," Larkpaw responded as he pushed his way out of the ferns to speak with her, already suspicious of her nervous demeanor. "Took you a while to get here."

"Right," Diamondpaw meowed. "About that. I sort of... brought someone else."

Larkpaw immediately regretted his decision to leave the safety of the ferns as he caught sight of the newcomer in question. There was an unmistakable DuskClan scent on them. He rushed back into the foliage, trying to hide from their view.

Diamondpaw followed him. "It's fine! They're not going to do you any harm, I—"

"Why would you tell someone else about us?" he hissed furiously, his tail lashing. "I thought you agreed to keep it a secret!"

"Well, yes, but—"

"But? But what? You broke your promise! You—"

"If you'd just let me speak, I could explain!" Diamondpaw growled forcefully, cutting him off. There was a threatening glint in her eye that kept him quiet. "Silverpaw is trustworthy, okay? They can help us. They've been to the graveyard countless times, so I'm sure they have a bunch of info on it."

Larkpaw blinked in shock, unable to believe what he had just heard. A DuskClan cat that spent time in the graveyard? What in the world could they be doing in there?

He peeked out from the ferns he was hiding in, Wolfkit still waiting confused inside them. Silverpaw sat silently a fox-length away from him, studying a nearby clump of mushrooms with interest.

"Really?" he wondered aloud to Diamondpaw. "They know how to infiltrate the graveyard?"

The silver apprentice had heard his question and turned to face him as he slowly exited the ferns. Their pelt was a dusty silver, with faint brown stripes stretching across it. "Of course. I visit regularly."

"Visit?" he asked with confusion. "Who exactly are you there to see?"

Silverpaw looked at him with amusement. "That's a secret."

Larkpaw's eye twitched in irritation. How could Diamondpaw expect him to trust a cat that wouldn't even answer his questions?

Wolfkit bounded out of the ferns from behind him, excitedly approaching the newcomer. "Hi!" she squealed, gazing up into Silverpaw's eyes.

"Hello," Silverpaw responded, though with less enthusiasm than the kit at their feet. "You must be the Wolfkit that Diamondpaw was telling me about."

"Woofkit!" the grey kitten agreed, unable to pronounce her own name. She bounced up and down with her typical endless energy.

Larkpaw rushed up and placed a paw beside Wolfkit, beckoning her to move backward. "Let's not annoy our new friend," he said gently, casting Silverpaw an apologetic glance.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Silverpaw meowed simply.

Diamondpaw approached their small conversation and glanced between Larkpaw and Silverpaw. "Silverpaw, are you ready to…?" she trailed off, but Silverpaw apparently knew the end to the sentence, as they nodded swiftly.

"Larkpaw," the silver cat said, suddenly rising to their paws. "I'm told you need to get into the graveyard."

"Y-Yes," he responded apprehensively, hesitant to reveal his intentions to a near stranger. He was annoyed that Silverpaw already seemed to know his name and situation. Apparently, Diamondpaw had told them everything before even bringing them here.

"Well, my first suggestion would be for you to head straight down the slope that leads into the graveyard, but obviously that won't work," they meowed, beginning to pace around the small clearing the four cats sat in. "There haven't been cats guarding that slope before, so I've never really had to use an alternate entrance."

Larkpaw nodded, aware of the slope they were talking about. It was the one he had nearly tumbled down. "Yes, I know that slope. It's pretty impossible to climb back up, too, so I need something more accessible. I was thinking—"

"Wait, what do you mean, you 'know that slope'?" Diamondpaw interjected. "Larkpaw, you don't mean you went off scouting before I came back?"

Larkpaw turned to look at her. He tilted his head to the side. "Did you really expect me to wait in one spot for the entire day? Of course I went scouting."

Diamondpaw groaned. "Larkpaw, you could've been captured!"

"Cap-toored!" Wolfkit added importantly.

Larkpaw flexed his claws into the dirt. "Do I look like I've been captured? Everything was perfectly fine." His mind flickered back to the multiple close encounters they had had with DuskClan patrols. "Okay, maybe everything wasn't perfectly fine, but we got back in one piece."

"You don't mean you were sighted, do you?" Diamondpaw asked with horror.

"No, of course not! And aren't you the one who just brought a stranger here to see us?"

"I didn't—" Diamondpaw trailed off, anger sparking in her eyes.

"Let's just calm down for a moment," Silverpaw said carefully, glancing between the two apprentices' bitter glares. "You're getting angry about each other's safety. Doesn't that seem a bit unnecessary?"

Diamondpaw sighed and sat down, Larkpaw following suit a moment later. He still didn't trust this silver cat, but they were right; there was no use being angry about the past if their current goal was to keep each other safe.

"You're right. Sorry," Diamondpaw meowed. "Thanks for the mediation, Silverpaw."

Silverpaw smiled. "No problem. I picked that skill up from Rose, mostly."

Larkpaw was about to ask when Diamondpaw answered him.

"Rose is a cat from the graveyard," she explained, to which Silverpaw nodded in agreement.

"So… there are cats in the graveyard, then?" Larkpaw asked, looking at Silverpaw for an answer.

The silver cat hesitated. Apparently, they weren't very eager to divulge their own secrets, either. "Did you see them?"

Larkpaw thought back to the unfamiliar cats he had seen walking among his Clan in the graveyard. "I think so."

"Then there's no real point in hiding it, I guess." Silverpaw glanced off in the direction of the graveyard, though it was much too far for them to actually see it. "I know the cats that live in the monster graveyard. We're going to ask them for help."

"Help?" Larkpaw said. "You mean…"

"Help in freeing DawnClan, yes."

The cream-furred tom didn't know what to say. Could Silverpaw actually save his family and friends? If they were in contact with the graveyard cats, that meant they'd have a group of experts—not to mention extra fighters—helping them with what he had first thought was a hopeless gamble for liberation.

"So what do we do now?" he asked, allowing a small bubble of hope to rise within him. Maybe this was actually possible. "I still don't have a way into the graveyard."

Silverpaw looked upward as if they were thinking hard about something. They promptly turned around and began walking away from the group, signaling with their tail to follow. Diamondpaw and Larkpaw glanced at each other before trailing after them, Wolfkit prancing happily at their side.

He quickly caught up with Silverpaw and began to tell them what he was thinking. "I saw a stream running through the graveyard when I was there. I thought maybe we could follow it safely into the graveyard, if you think it'd work."

Silverpaw smiled at him as they padded onward, the canopy above them thinning as they traveled further from the heart of the woods. "That's just what I was thinking."

Diamondpaw had reached their pace now, her smaller stature causing her to work harder to hold their speed. Wolfkit ran beside her. "Where do we even go to follow the stream, though?" she asked with confusion. "Wouldn't that run through the mountains, like the border river?"

"Exactly," Silverpaw said, slowing to a halt. The treetops above them were so thin that the four cats could now see beyond the border of DuskClan's woods, where the jagged mountains cut into the sky like hooked claws reaching towards their prey. The silver cat gestured toward the imposing formations.

Larkpaw turned his head to face Silverpaw, shocked at what they had insinuated. "You don't mean—"

"Yes. To get to the graveyard," Silverpaw began, "we're going to travel through the mountains."