The sun is starting to go down, casting long shadows across the forest. Maplefall, with Gorse and more of her clanmates, are standing outside a cave in the hilly territory not far from the twoleg nest. Every cat is waiting for Aphidroot to emerge.
Earlier that day, Rowanclaw and Thistlestem had rolled in a patch of wild onions until their pelts reeked of the plants. Then they had ordered Aphidroot to close her eyes and had led her into the cave.
Maplefall has a bad feeling about this, the third and last of Aphidroot's tasks. The pale ginger she-cat is supposed to find her way out by herself. Normally this would be easy, because she would be able to follow her own scent trail, but Rowanclaw had been determined to make it difficult for her by flooding the narrow cavern with onion scent. It worries Maplefall that her father had obviously enjoyed doing it.
What will he dream up for Gorse?
Gorse leans toward Maplefall, so close that the tip of his ear brushes hers.
"What is this feat about?" he murmurs, speaking quietly because Rushstar had explained that he didn't want any cat to make noise that might help guide Aphidroot out of the cave.
"I heard Rowanclaw instructing Aphidroot, just before she led her in there," Maplefall replies, angling her ears toward the dark gap in the hillside. "She said that a true Shadowclan cat ought to know how to move in the dark. It's not just about finding her way back outside. Aphidroot needs to be one with the darkness. She needs to teach herself to stay calm while walking in shadow."
"Just like Rowanclaw found his way out easily, after he led Aphidroot in there?" Gorse suggests.
Maplefall nods agreement. It is hard for her to push away the thought that her father must have led Aphidroot deep within the cave, to an especially difficult spot, to make her task as hard as possible.
"Do you think he'll make me do the same thing?" Gorse asks.
"I don't know for sure," Maplefall admits. "But whatever your next task is, you can be sure it will be just as tough a test of your courage as what Aphidroot is going through now."
Gorse's only response is to twitch his whiskers; he doesn't look reassured.
Maplefall feels an unpleasant prickling throughout her pelt as the moments slip by and Aphidroot does not appear. A couple of tail-lengths away, Quillfur is flexing his claws, tearing at the grass, his expression full of anxiety.
At last Rowanclaw turns toward Rushstar and breaks the silence.
"How long do we have to wait before we decide that we've given Aphidroot more than enough time?" he demands.
Rushstar glances toward the cave entrance, his eyes narrowing. Maplefall's heart lurches; she is sure that the clan leader is about to announce that Aphidroot had failed her vital third task.
But then Maplefall thinks that she can discern another scent beneath the pervasive aroma of wild onion. Her nose twitches.
"That's Aphidroot's scent!" she hisses.
Every cat falls silent, not wanting to speak too loudly in case the former Windclan warrior hears them. The scent grows stronger and stronger, until at last Aphidroot staggers out of the cave, blinking in the scarlet light. Her pelt is bristling with alarm and nervousness, her eyes are wide, and her jaws are clamped tightly shut. Maplefall thinks she has never seen a cat look more terrified.
"She's so brave!" she murmurs into Gorse's ear.
Aphidroot turns to Rushstar.
"Did I pass?" she asks, her voice hoarse.
"You certainly did," Rushstar replies. "Well done!"
"It took her a while," Rowanclaw points out with a disagreeable sniff.
"It was pretty good for a first attempt." Rushstar's voice is firm. "I'm sure she'll get used to the shadows and darkness in time. So now . . ."
He jumps up onto a nearby fallen log and raises his voice to reach all the cats assembled there. "Aphidroot has passed her three tasks! Congratulations, Aphidroot, and welcome to Shadowclan. You are officially one of us now!"
Her clanmates erupted into cheering. "Aphidroot! Aphidroot!"
Quillfur bounds up to his mate and twines his tail with hers, purring too hard to join in the caterwauling. Maplefall welcomes her new clanmate, too, but she can't help noticing that Rowanclaw looks as if he had tasted a piece of crow-food. His plan had failed: It had made Aphidroot look even braver, more determined, and more worthy of becoming a Shadowclan cat than she had before, because her tasks had been so hard.
"Rowanclaw," Rushstar begins as the celebration died down, "have you given any thought to what Gorse's next feat will be?"
Maplefall pricks her ears and exchanges a glance with Gorse, who looks anxious to know what her father has in store for him. He has good reason to be nervous, Maplefall thinks, after all the obstacles her father had thrown in Aphidroot's path.
"Oh, I've been thinking about it," Rowanclaw responds. "It will involve speed."
"In what way?" Rushstar asks.
"That's my secret," Rowanclaw tells him, and presses his jaws together.
He isn't giving anything away, not even to his clan leader.
Rushstar leads his warriors back to the Shadowclan camp. As they push their way through the bramble barrier, the cats who hadn't gone with them to the cave slide out of their dens and gather in the center of the camp.
"How did it go?" Nutfeather asks.
"She passed!" Quillfur announces, his eyes shining with delight. "She's a real Shadowclan cat now!"
Most of the cats gather around to congratulate Aphidroot, though Maplefall finds it hard to ignore the bristling and hostile glances of some of their other clanmates, particularly Toadfoot and Snowbird. They look as irritated as Rowanclaw about the way things had turned out.
By the time the clamor dies down, the last of the sunlight is gone, and twilight enfolds the camp. Above her head, Maplefall can see that a single warrior of Starclan has appeared in the sky.
Gorse's jaws gape in a massive yawn.
"I'm ready for my nest," he meows.
"Me too," Maplefall agrees, "but I want to talk to you first."
She leads the way into the warriors' den and sits down in her nest. Gorse settles beside her with his paws tucked under him. So far none of the other warriors have joined them.
"What's on your mind?" Gorse asks.
"Your next task," Maplefall replies.
As she speaks, Mudfrost and Laureltail slip into the den, followed by more of her clanmates returning to their nests to sleep. They must not have to do any of the nightly patrols.
Disappointed that she and Gorse couldn't have any more time alone together, she lowers her voice. "You need to relax as much as you can. We don't know exactly what Rowanclaw has in store for you, but if it involves speed, your muscles need to be loose, not tense or wound up."
"I get it," Gorse replies. "I'm feeling pretty confident about that, actually. I'm quite a quick cat."
Maplefall feels a flash of irritation that Gorse seems so calm.
"Why aren't you as anxious as I am?" she asks him. "Don't you care? Are you having second thoughts or something?"
Gorse blinks at her, looking thoroughly confused. "What kind of question is that? I've already completed one task, haven't I? I've been trying to prove how much I want to join Shadowclan and be with you."
Maplefall begins to nod, but Gorse continues before she could respond.
"You seem unsure still," he mews. "Whatever's bothering you, tell me what it is."
Maplefall hesitates. Now that she is about to say what is worrying her, it sounds silly, as if she were a kit barely out of the nursery. Yet thinking about what Butterflydapple had told her about her and Runningstalk, how they committed themselves to each other every day, she wonders if she really is being stupid. If Gorse would make the same commitment to her, perhaps she wouldn't feel so uneasy.
Eventually she manages to force out the words. "You have to understand, this is a big deal for me, too. I never imagined being mates with a cat who wasn't from Shadowclan."
"I know." Gorse pauses, staring at his paws as if there is more he wanted to say.
"Your father spoke to me earlier," he continues hesitantly. "Before you got back from Riverclan. He really doesn't like me, and he doesn't want us to be mates. He said . . ."
He pauses again, swallowing as if he has a tough bit of fresh-kill lodged in his throat.
Maplefall heaves a long sigh. "Why can't he stop sticking his paws in? Come on, Gorse, tell me."
Gorse seems to brace himself. "He said that you had loved Runningstalk since you were a kit, and you had never really gotten over him. Is it true, Maplefall?"
"Of course it isn't true!" Maplefall snaps out the words without thinking, then hesitates.
"Well, it's partly true," she adds. "I did love Runningstalk when I was a kit. I had a crush on him, and maybe there was some hero worship. He wasn't much more than a kit himself. I assumed we would be mates, and I never realized that we had both grown up into very different cats. I still love him, but as a clanmate, not as a mate. He and Butterflydapple are much better suited to each other."
She can tell that Gorse has begun to relax as he gazes into her eyes.
"Then you truly think that I'm the right cat for you?" he asks.
"I do." But Maplefall's uneasiness is rising again. "I only want to be sure that you think that I'm the right cat."
"I understand and I'm sure you're the right cat for me. I've left my clan for you, Maplefall. I love you."
"I'm sorry," she mews, feeling guilty that she had asked him for reassurance. "It's just that even if you succeed and Rushstar accepts you into the clan, you know as well as I do that not every Shadowclan cat will be happy about it. Gorse, you have to convince me that you really want to join."
"Has Rowanclaw been talking to you, too?" Gorse asks. "Don't let him turn you against me. Against us. He told me that Shadowclan would never really accept me. But that's a risk I'm prepared to take, provided that you want me here, Maplefall. I don't give a couple of mouse droppings for what other cats think of me."
He is so earnest, so determined. Maplefall loves him all over again.
"Of course I want you here, Gorse. And you're right; we don't have to care what the rest of the clan thinks. I'm sorry I doubted you."
She realizes how different, and how much more challenging, her relationship with Gorse would be than Butterflydapple's with Runningstalk. Gorse would always have made this huge sacrifice for her. And they wouldn't always see things the same way; that is easier for every cat when they grew up in the same clan.
Gorse waves his tail dismissively, but even though he has accepted her apology, Maplefall still feels awkward. As they settle down side by side in their nests, curling up to sleep, she has to stifle the urge to apologize all over again.
She is finally drifting into sleep when Gorse rouses her by prodding her shoulder.
"What..." she begins, only to be silenced by Gorse's tail across her mouth.
He leans over to whisper into her ear. "Where is your father going?"
Maplefall opens her eyes and turns her head. In the darkness of the warriors' den she can barely make out the shape of a cat picking their way among the other nests to slip out between the branches of the den. Scent rather than sight tells her it is Rowanclaw. Every hair on Maplefall's pelt rises with suspicion.
She slides to the edge of the den and peers out. In the moonlight she can see Rowanclaw clearly, standing near the fresh-kill pile. He seems to be waiting for something, twitching his tail impatiently.
Gorse prods her again and angles his ears farther into the den, where more dark shapes are moving. As they emerge into the open, Maplefall recognizes Snowbird, Toadfoot, and Bloomheart, and even more cats following them. Rowanclaw leads the way out of the camp.
"What are they doing?" Gorse murmurs. "Why are they sneaking out?"
Maplefall shakes her head, confused. She knows that Rowanclaw and other cats had met secretly before, but never before had they left camp in the middle of the night.
"I don't know what's going on," she admits.
Gorse's eyes are gleaming in the near darkness.
"We should follow them," he suggests.
For a moment Maplefall is doubtful. She doesn't want to get caught, or create a problem out of nothing. She would have liked to believe that her father's actions are perfectly innocent—but she can't. This doesn't look like an ordered night hunting patrol, she thinks. If it were, why all the secrecy?
Her pads are prickling with curiosity, and she knows she can't ignore this—can't curl up and go to sleep as if nothing is happening.
"Okay," she mews softly to Gorse. "But we'll need to be very quiet."