The smell of dog is the whole world. Massive paws shake the ground. I run faster than I've ever run in my life, but it ain't gonna be enough. The dog's rancid breath bathes my back legs.

Only when I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, ain't just one dog after me, it's a whole pack of 'em. All sallivating like they can't wait to eat a snarky ShadowClan warrior. I can't hear my own thoughts on account of their barkin'. The only words I can make out are, "Pack! Kill!"

Someone knocks my paws out from under me. All the breath flees my body as I fall awkwardly. "Greet StarClan for me!" Tigerstar snarls.

I look 'round for my leader, want to tell him this is all some horrible mistake. But the lead dog is on me, and as its powerful jaws wrap around my neck, I'm back in the stinking alley BloodClan has made the center of its territory. Bone is showing my littermates and me the dog teeth fitted over his claws, sayin' we'll have to face 'em one day if we wanna become BloodClan guards, or die trying.

"The evil grows stronger, Nettlethorn. You be runnin' outa time. Wake up," Mama calls. I look for her too, but she's as invisible as Tigerstar.

I jerk awake in the warriors' den, my mouth filled with the taste of blood. Blindly, I lash out, more than half expecting my claws to meet in dog fur.

"Do you mind?" Wetfoot growls without opening his eyes. "Some cats are actually trying to sleep around here."

Whispering an apology, I stumble out into camp, blinking in the morning sunlight. The dawn patrol must have left a little while ago. Boulder is nibbling on a small lizard. He blinks as I approach slowly.

"Nettlethorn, you look like a fox just clawed your ears off," the gray tom meows. Those are the first words he's said to me in days. An angry retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it, decidin' to take his question as a peace offering.

"Just a nightmare about dogs," I say with a shudder. "It felt… way too real. Brought me back to the bad old days of BloodClan." Boulder definitely flinches at the word BloodClan, his eyes skittering away from mine like frightened prey.

I run my tail along his spine, sympathy replacing my anger. "Sorry, didn't mean to bring up old memories."

"It ain't that," Boulder says, staring down at his paws.

"Is it that business about ThunderClan and Tigerstar's kits?" I ask.

Boulder laughs humorlessly. "If only."

I want to press him, but if Tigerstar ordered him not to talk about it, I reckon it wouldn't be fair. Out of the blue he asks, "What do you think would happen if BloodClan ever came into the forest?"

My hackles rise. "Shit, Boulder, you tryin' to give me more nightmares? I honestly can't think of anything worse for the clans."

"R-Really?" Boulder stutters.

"We be talkin' 'bout the same BloodClan, right? They'd ruin everything that's good in being a warrior. How we fight with honor, how we help the weakest cats. BloodClan is evil, Boulder. I believe that with every hair on my pelt."

I never seen a more miserable cat. "It's just that Tigerstar… he…"

Before Boulder can finish, Lightningkit streaks out from behind the nursery in pursuit of a mouse. For probably the only time ever, I'm not thrilled to see the little she-cat, who's just about half a moon from her apprentice ceremony. Lightningkit leaps and pins the mouse with her white paws.

"Kill it quickly," Boulder encourages.

Lightningkit finishes her prey, then looks up at me with shining green eyes. "I just caught my first prey! Did you see that, Nettlethorn?"

"Yeah, so awesome. Go bring it to the elders. Rowanberry really likes mouse," I say, makin' myself sound cheerful.

Tigerstar strides into camp at that moment, lookin' like he just spent a day watchin' somebody kick his kits and couldn't do nothin' about it. Lightningkit bounds up to him with the mouse in her jaws, eager for her leader's praise. But the look of anger and frustration smoldering in his eyes has me on my paws. I can still smell the stench of dog, and of cat blood. Must just be my nightmare, clinging to me like a stubborn tick.

"Get out of the way, you stupid kit," Tigerstar growls, glarin' balefully down at Lightningkit.

But it ain't his voice I'm hearin' in my head, not really. Bone snarled like that when he thought my brothers and I were underpaw. I step between 'em and gently push Lightningkit back with my tail. I don't know why our leader is so furious, but if he takes it out on someone, it ain't gonna be her.

"Don't bother Tigerstar right now. I bet the elders will tell you a story when you show 'em your mouse," I say, firm but calm. Even though the stink of dog is so overpowering I reckon I might be sick.

Lightningkit follows me without question. But I feel Tigerstar's gaze scorching into my pelt, hot enough to melt the sun. When I glance back over my shoulder, he's got his lip curled in a sneer. I swear, he likes us being afraid of him.

Lightningkit drops her mouse outside the elders' den and looks up at me in confusion. "What's wrong, Nettlethorn? Why is Tigerstar being so mean? He's never been like that before, even when he fussed at me for sneaking out of camp."

"He's just havin' a rough day," I say with forced lightness. "Being clan leader's a lot of work. I reckon he's just stressed out. Everything's fine." Lightningkit scampers into the elders' den, totally convinced by my explanation. I wish it worked half so well on me.

As I join the group of sleepy warriors congregating around Blackfoot for the day's orders, I keep hearin' Mama's words. "You're running out of time. Wake up." My eyes are wide open, but I get the feelin' Mama ain't talkin' about being awake in the physical sense.

"Nettlethorn, would you care to join us?" Blackfoot asks snidely.

"Sorry, just lost between my own ears," I say, ignoring the sniggers of clanmates and the heat in my pelt.

"You're going hunting in the marsh with Oakfur and Wetfoot," the deputy says sharply.

"Sounds like a plan," I agree, looking for the cats he named.

"Tangleburr had her kits!" Newtspeck announces the next afternoon as soon as my WindClan border patrol gets back into camp.

"Ain't it early? I thought they weren't due for a few more days," I say.

Newtspeck's tail droops a little. "They are really tiny, but Runningnose says they're healthy."

"That'd be more convincing if he could cure his own cold," mutters Jaggedtooth, who led our patrol.

"I'm going to check on them," I say, bounding over to the nursery.

"Hey, I thought we were getting in some extra battle practice with Nightwhisper this afternoon, like old times," Jaggedtooth meows.

I almost, almost roll my eyes. "Honestly, Jaggedtooth, there's more to life than battle training. Sometimes I feel like that's all you can talk about."

On the surface, things are the same as ever between Jaggedtooth and me. We hunt, train, and eat together. We chat and share tongues most evenings. But each day, the distance between us gets just a little wider. It's hard to put a claw on how exactly he's changed, but he seems harder, crueler in some way I can't name. His presence don't fill me with the same giddy warmth it used to. There's only one tom in ShadowClan who can make my heart skip a beat, and it's not my kithood best friend.

Stumpytail slides out of the hollow tree, his eyes glowing and a purr rumbling in his throat. He looks every inch the proud and loving father. Seeing him gives me a sudden, sharp, and totally unfamiliar pang of longing, grief, and envy. Did our dad even know we existed? Did his green eyes, the ones he supposedly passed on to my brother, light up when he looked at Mama? Or was she just a warm body to him?

"How are they doing?" I ask.

"They're beautiful, Nettlethorn. A tom who looks just like me and a she-kit who's the spitting image of her mother. You can go in and see them, but don't stay long. Tangleburr's tired."

"She just pushed livin' creatures out of her own body. Course she's tired," I say, giving his shoulder a friendly lick as I pad into the nursery.

I once heard Fernshade say that the nursery is the real heart of any clan. Being in here, smelling milk and newborn kits and clean moss, I see what she means. These kits will be ShadowClan's future. I crouch beside Tangleburr's nest and nuzzle her head. She blinks slowly up at me, then nudges a tiny gray-and-brown kit closer to her belly.

"Have you named them yet?" I ask.

"This is Pinekit," Tangleburr meows, pointing at the brown tom. "And we're calling our daughter Duskkit."

"Perfect names for perfect kits. I can't wait till they open their eyes!" I purr.

The tiny mewling sounds Pinekit and Duskkit make as they nurse are the most adorable thing I've ever heard. They're not my kits, but I feel a surge of love and protectiveness toward them that's scary in its intensity. Until these kits are old enough to start their apprenticeships and Tangleburr moves back into the warriors' den, it's up to cats like me to keep 'em safe and fed.

"Has Tigerstar seen 'em yet?" I ask my friend.

Tangleburr shakes her head. "I heard he was going off to RiverClan again to talk to Leopardstar."

"Again?" I echo. "Wasn't he just over there a couple days ago? He livin' there now?"

Tangleburr shrugs, her eyes sliding closed. I nuzzle the two kits briefly, then say, "I'll let you get some sleep and come back later with some fresh-kill."

I'm almost out of the nursery when Tangleburr says, voice slurred with drowsiness, "I thought Tigerstar was crazy when he told us to watch you in twolegplace. Didn't think being nice to rogues would get us anywhere, but you've become one of my best friends, Nettlethorn."

My paws go numb, like I just stuck 'em in icy water. "What you mean, watchin' us?" I ask. "You saved me from that dog."

I turn back and stare into Tangleburr's wide, stricken eyes. "Mouse dung," she whispers. She trembles as she huddles deeper into her nest, pulling her kits in so tight they're apt to melt back into her brown-and-gray fur.

Part of me says I shouldn't do this now, with her exhausted from kitting. But my anger and sense of betrayal won't let me keep quiet. Ain't never been good at that anyway. "Tangleburr, were you spyin' on me that day in the park? All this time, were you only nice to me because Tigerstar ordered you to-"

"No!" Tangleburr gasps, but she can't meet my eyes and her tail tip's twitchin' like mad. "I mean, yeah, Tigerstar told us he'd met three young rogues he thought would make decent warriors. He asked us to watch you and see what we thought, and try to start up a conversation if an opportunity came along. I genuinely admired you for facing off against that dog. Most cats would've just run, but not you."

I always thought it was convenient how Tangleburr turned up just when I needed her and Tigerstar showed up to make his offer when we were training with the exiles, almost like he knew we'd be there that afternoon. But after Jerry's death and the skirmish with Snipe's patrol, it was driven right outa my head. Disjointed images flash behind my eyes: the furtive looks on Blackfoot's and Tangleburr's faces when I asked how Tigerstar knew my name, Tigerstar tellin' me to befriend Lightningkit but make sure my first loyalty was always to him, even urgin' me to report on my clanmates.

"Sayin' some nice things don't make the fact that you spied on me and lied about it okay," I say, surprised by how quiet and even my voice is.

Tangleburr's eyes flash. "Do you wish you were still in town, scraping food out of twoleg rubbish? Is that it?"

Now it's my turn to flinch. "No, course I don't. But I don't like being used either. I guess we can talk about it later. Rest up with your kits..

I'm almost out of the nursery when Tangleburr calls my name. A low, mean part of me wants to ignore her. When I turn around, the older she-cat's expression is totally unreadable.

"Nettlethorn, I guess I can see why you're hurt. I know you don't always agree with how Tigerstar runs the clan. But my advice, as someone who's grown to genuinely care about you, is to keep your opinions to yourself. StarClan chose Tigerstar as our leader. Just remember that, okay? I'd hate to see you get in real trouble."

"Don't worry, I won't go runnin' my mouth," I say, feelin' my face twist into somethin' like a hard sneer. "Wouldn't do me no good anyway." Nightwhisper might—and that's a big might—understand, but Jaggedtooth? He'd make excuses for Tigerstar's manipulation, just like always.

I was tellin' the truth when I told Tangleburr I wouldn't wanna go back to town. Despite my misgivings about Tigerstar, Mama's cryptic warnings, and my confused love life, I'm happy in ShadowClan. I love the forest, most of my clanmates, the stability of my life here. I feel like I can breathe deeply for the first time since our escape from BloodClan. But the manipulation bothers me, the way Tigerstar sees other cats as objects to be moved around however he likes. Did he think about us or what we might need or want before askin' the exiles to recruit us, or did he just think about himself, as usual?

My angry pacing takes me near the center of camp, where Tigerstar has ordered us to collect a pile of prey bones. It's gettin' pretty big now. I have no idea what he wants it for, other than stinkin' up the place. Blackfoot sits on his haunches near the bone heap, chatting with his littermates, Fernshade and Flintfang.

"Give me somethin' to do, unless you want me to go crazy," I meow.

"It's not like you have far to go," Fernshade quips. I swipe playfully at her tail, even as a little voice in the back of my head asks if she's really my friend, or if Tigerstar or Blackfoot told her to make me feel welcome.

"I'm leading a group to practice night fighting in a little while," the deputy says. "You want in?"

"Attacking my clanmates under the cover of darkness? I absolutely want in," I say, striving for my usual light, snarky tone. The three senior warriors purr in amusement, so I must be pullin' it off.

Fernshade's purr cuts off as abruptly as the end of a snapped branch. Slowly, my friend turns her head toward the camp entrance, and I follow her green gaze. Tigerstar's just comin' back from RiverClan, and Russetfur's givin' him a report on her apprentice's hunting assessment. I reckon it didn't go well, 'cause Cedarpaw's tail be draggin' in the dust, and his eyes are down. Tigerstar snarls a few quick words at Cedarpaw, then lashes out with unsheathed claws, the movement as quick and viper-like as when he attacked me in his den. The younger tom rears back, four shallow, bloody scratches along his shoulder.

But then he flattens his ears submissively and meows clearly, "I promise I won't fail you or my clan again, Tigerstar."

As our leader pads away, Russetfur rests her muzzle gently against Cedarpaw's flank and guides him toward the medicine den. I risk a swift look at Blackfoot and his littermates. Flintfang looks mad enough to shit a brick, while Fernshade seems to be in physical pain. Blackfoot's expression is as cool and blank as fresh snow. But I notice that he can't quite meet his siblings' burning stares. Tension crackles in the air between 'em, makin' me feel like an intruder.

I also feel sick with what I just seen. I get that the clan don't eat if we don't catch prey, but surely Cedarpaw didn't deserve that for one bad assessment? It ain't your business, I tell myself, and I shove away the reproachful voice that sounds like Mama's and the now-healed scratch on my own face. Blackfoot gets to his paws, mutterin' somethin' 'bout checkin' a hole in the warriors' den. That's the signal for the rest of us to scatter.