Ryepaw's Moonstone Journey

Ryepaw was a cat that Smallbean couldn't say he knew well. His mentor, on the other paw, was a cat he had grown to enjoy being around, but he had to admit that he had his flaws. He could only imagine what traits Ryepaw might have picked up from him.

The medicine cat stood outside the apprentice den, two neatly-stacked piles of herbs sitting at his side. His head was raised as he looked as the sun's placement in the sky. It wasn't long after sunhigh. He had discovered that he had a lot more time to get to the moonstone than he thought he did. For so long he had set off at dawn to arrive at mothermouth around sunset. It had never occurred to him that they could arrive after the sun had already set- for some reason.

He scanned over the camp, eyes searching for a specific pale pelt. "Ryepaw!" He called out once he saw the younger tom, beckoning him with a flick of his tail. "It's almost time to go!" Once the apprentice was closer, he pushed one of the herb piles toward him. "Eat these before we leave." He paused to quickly eat his own herbs. "Be warned, they taste bitter. Once you eat them we can leave." The unpleasant taste of traveling herbs was something he had grown used to, but he knew it would be a new taste for Ryepaw.

Ryepaw finished up his well-deserved grooming session just in time for the little medicine cat to beckon him. The apprentice was a clumsy oaf and therefore was, to some degree, acquainted with Smallbean and the medicine den. Despite that, he didn't know much about the tricolor tom. He knew that he was the moral compass of the clan, and that he valued peace, and that he was quiet. That's all he knew.

Their size difference made Ryepaw feel awkward, and he instinctively shrunk his shoulders. The herbs that were presented to him were things that he had seen before, but had never consumed. Ryepaw wasn't exactly sure how to approach them. He pulled the bundle into his paw and tried to fit the leaflet into his mouth all at once, and with the huge mouthful between his teeth, he gnawed at them as best he could. His lips smacked with the effort, chewing as if it was his first meal in a half moon. When the taste finally registered on his tongue, his nose shriveled up in disgust. Ryepaw did not dare spit them out.

With his mouth still mostly fully, he asked Smallbean, "What are they even gonna tell me? I think I'm doing fine enough on my own."

His downcast eyes gave away his apprehension. Ryepaw never cared very much about StarClan and spirituality, and his ancestors' lives never interested him enough to listen to the elders' stories. Now, though, in the wake of his father's news, he was afraid of them. Now, he knew that the ancestors that greeted him might by from SkyClan. He didn't want to know what they had to tell him. As he swallowed the traveling herbs, it finally clicked that he had no choice. Their judgement was his to bear. Ryepaw was avoiding Dawnhawk and Sunnyskip, but no amount of petty willpower could keep him out of the eyes of StarClan.

Smallbean did not need to know that. "Think Fawnstep will believe me if I tell him StarClan talked to me last night in my dream? It'd save you a trip."

Smallbean watched Ryepaw's attempt to chew his herbs, his whiskers twitching in amusement. For a moment he thought that the apprentice didn't taste their bitterness, only to see his face twist in disgust a few moments later. "I told you they were bitter." He couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him. So far, Ryepaw didn't seem to be too much like Fawnstep at all. He wasn't too sure why he expected them to be similar in personality. He knew that he certainly didn't pick up any of Raventail's personality traits. If he did, he'd probably still be a warrior- not that he was unhappy with the life of a medicine cat.

Ryepaw's muffled words shook him from his thoughts. He almost missed the way the younger tom's eyes drifted downward, as if he were worried. "Well, it's hard to tell what they'll say, it's a different experience for every cat. You may not think you need their advice but you'd be surprised. Don't worry, though. Starclan won't bite." He reassured. Try as he might, Smallbean could hardly remember his own moonstone journey. He couldn't recall the cat who spoke to him, nor their exact words, but what he got from the experience was to learn to conquer his fears... or something like that.

It didn't take too much longer for Ryepaw to finish his herbs. Turning around to face the camp's entrance, Smallbean stretched out his back legs, preparing them for the journey that laid ahead. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Ryepaw's voice again. "You know, it's funny you mention Starclan appearing in your dreams." He turned to the side to get a better look at the apprentice. "Back when Fawnstep was Fawnpaw, back when the Asylum had taken over, Starclan had to visit him in his dreams because we couldn't travel to the moonstone." Memories of the dark time began to flood his mind, but he quickly brought himself back to the current situation. "Unless there's anything else you need, we should be ready to go." He began walking toward the camp entrance, looking behind him to make sure that Ryepaw was following.

Once they were out on the moors, he stopped for a moment and took in a deep breath. Stars, he needed to get out more. He spent so much time cooped up in the medicine den that every time he stepped onto the moors it was like he had forgotten the feel of the wind through his fur. He began to walk, guiding Ryepaw down a path he had travelled many times now. "It really isn't as far of a journey as you'd think." The small tom tried to create conversation, something that he had struggled doing since he was a kit. "You see that?" He gestured to a faint yet noticeably jagged outline against the horizon. "That's highstones. We'll be there before you know it. The hardest part of this journey is just the Thunderpath, and there's a tunnel beneath it to make it easier to cross." He explained, craning his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of the strip of black rock. It seemed as though they'd need to travel a little bit further. He would know when they were near the Thunderpath anyways. You could always smell it before you saw it.

Ryepaw nodded slowly, ingesting Smallbean's words carefully. He still wasn't convinced that this was all a necessary trip, but the medicine cat made him feel a little better about it. He meandered out of camp in a light trot, though he soon realized he would need to slow down to accommodate Smallbean's shorter legs. Along the way, he was given directions about the journey ahead. It really wasn't that far, after all. Ryepaw had never gone as far as the thunderpath. It wasn't a border that needed constant patrolling. ShadowClan was on the other side, but they were caddy-cornered with Highstones to the west.

An acrid taste hit his tongue. Almost instinctively, Ryepaw recoiled, and a twisting feeling assaulted his gut. It smelled like concentrated danger. That had to be the thunderpath. "I guess this is it, right?"

The two toms crouched in the brush beside the path, listening to the distant rumbling of mindless creatures called monsters. One passed them on the far side, going faster than any cat could run. Ryepaw swallowed roughly. When there was no sound for a few seconds, the pair burst out from their hiding place. Ryepaw never felt more sure of his WindClan blood. He felt his paw pads scratch the black rock almost to blood. He wasn't sure he could have stopped running if he tried. Diving onto the other side of the thunderpath, he only had time to shake out his pelt before another monster rolled down the path behind him. He shuddered.

Highstones seemed like quite a trip. He had to crane his neck to get a good view of it, and even then he couldn't see the "Mothermouth" he had been told about. "I can't believe they make you do this every half moon," he murmured. He put a paw up to start his ascent, but suddenly he glanced back to the medicine cat. "Smallbean? I know StarClan gets mad sometimes, and they'll stop a Gathering or make a drought, but... were they ever mad at you?"

It didn't take long for Smallbean to realize they were approaching the Thunderpath, it's horrible smell immediately letting him know it was nearby. His nose wrinkled with disgust. He could easily get used to the taste of herbs, but the taste of the thunderpath on his tongue never failed to catch him off-guard. "Yeah, this is it." He said half-heartedly, casting a glace over to Ryepaw. Crossing the thunderpath as something he did multiple times a moon, but that didn't ease the anxiety it brought him.

Uncertainly eyeing the dark strip of rock, he crouched in the underbrush beside Ryepaw. They sat and waited for a few moments, but when the time was right, Smallbean nodded and leaped onto the thunderpath. He tried to match Ryepaw's speed as he sprinted alongside him, only slowing once they had reached the other side. When another monster roared past, he jumped away, keeping his gaze on it until it was out of site.

Ryepaw's voice caught his attention. He looked over at the apprentice and smiled at his comment. "Oh, it's not all that bad. You get used to it after the first few times." A chuckle followed his words, but it was immediately cut off when Ryepaw spoke next. He froze, looking at the apprentice with wide, fearful eyes. "How..." There was no way he knew, nobody knew but him and Softbreeze, and it would stay like that, right? The way Ryepaw asked convinced Smallbean that it was a genuine question with harmless intentions. So he would answer honestly. "You know, Starclan could be upset at a lot of cats and just not show it." He said slowly, thinking over his words carefully. The medicine cat moved from where he stood, beginning the climb. Even though Ryepaw had reminded him how nervous the moonstone made him, he wouldn't make them late because of his own feelings. "But yes, Starclan has been angry at me before... for something that I did a long time ago." 'And they're probably still angry with me.'

He kept his eyes set on the steep, winding path ahead of him, looking back every few moments to check on Ryepaw. After a while, he spoke again. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I've done something that Starclan isn't too keen of. Not many cats know, and I'd like it if it stayed that way." He spoke softly, yet solemnly. He didn't tell Ryepaw exactly what had happened, but he said enough that, if said to the wrong cat, could make everyone think he was unfit to be a medicine cat. "Anyways, when you get to the moonstone, you'll need to know what to do. When we arrive at the cavern, you'll lay down and touch your nose to the stone. You'll fall asleep, then you'll talk to Starclan. I'll stay there with you the whole time." Every few words were interrupted by heavy pants, but he finally got a chance to catch his breath when they reached their destination. For a few moments he stood still, chest heaving as he filled his lungs with air. The climb was always tiring. "We can take a moment to rest before going in, if you need." He looked at the night sky, then at the pitch black cave that stood before them. Something about that cave's darkness made him uncomfortable, even after seeing it so many times before. He turned back to Ryepaw, waiting to see if he was ready.

Ryepaw seized to a stop when he noticed Smallbean's frightful expression. Something about seeing a cat who was so focused and wise falter in such a way made him deeply uncomfortable, and the feeling reverberated in his belly like an awful echo. He didn't dare move a muscle while the medicine cat crafted his measured response. The apprentice chewed the inside of his cheek apprehensively... these were words spoken for the first time in seasons, and may not ever be spoken again. Only here, in the silent isolation of Highstones, could such fragile syllables be spoken.

Smallbean had done something terrible, to be sure. It seemed like his pelt frayed with the weight of it, and Ryepaw, being still a little bit kittish, speculated for a long few moments. Maybe Smallbean, that tiny little healer, had really been a murderer. Maybe he shoved a RiverClan warrior over the gorge. He hadn't always been a medicine cat, Ryepaw reasoned, so maybe the blood on his paws drove him to leave warriorhood behind! Oh, but maybe he was a notorious prey-thief, who stalked the lonely forest of ShadowClan—

The tom's fantasies were broken by the sudden movement as both cats scaled the winding rock path. After a short while, Smallbean spoke again, and though it killed him inside to keep such an interesting morsel of gossip to himself... Ryepaw nodded politely. "Sure," he mewed, "As long as you don't tell anybody why StarClan might not be 'too keen' on me."

He heaved himself up a ledge and let the words spill out. "I'm scared of him. Nightwind, or Dawnhawk. My father. I keep thinkin' something's gonna happen. He just..."

No crying, he scolded himself. "He admitted it so easy. He said it like he was announcing the weather. Like... like it didn't mean nothin'. He said he only did it so the Asylum would trust him, but if that was true, why didn't he seem upset? Why didn't he care? He didn't apologize to my momma, or to StarClan. I don't think I ever heard him talk about StarClan. I don't know if he's ever been to the Moonstone."

He looked up at Mothermouth. I think they're gonna take it out on me.

"Well, no telling on me," he said after a long, tempered breath. "I don't want to wait anymore. Let's do this."

Diving after Smallbean into the lair, Ryepaw was relieved to be contained within the walls of what was essentially a tunnel. It was stony and cold, and a gentle updraft tickled his whiskers. He had no trouble following the scent of Smallbean's white-tufted tail. Before long, the dazzling brightness of the translucent Moonstone was aglow in his corneas. It was oddly moving, like viewing the stars of Silverpelt on a clear evening. Despite its majesty, Ryepaw was steeped with a sense of dread that only grew as he took trembling pawstep by trembling pawstep closer.

"Wish me luck," he murmured before touching his nose to the stone and knowing nothing but peace.

---

He did not take much notice of StarClan or its landscape; Ryepaw was utterly transfixed on the shadow figure which now approached him, smelling of spiced pine needles, soft feathery down, and the most delicious pigeon he could have ever imagined. The apprentice felt less scared than he had before. "Hello," he attempted in a squeaking voice.

The stars coalesced into a small, dark figure, piercing amber eyes seeming to glow as they looked the decidedly un-Windclan-like apprentice over. Nighthawk's expression was hard to discern, but that was seldom unusual for the dark tabby. She strode towards the gangly apprentice, starlight shimmering in her short, thick fur. Her steps made no sound across the pine needles strewn across the ground, though in life they would have. Nighthawk had never been a particularly stealthy cat, though her small frame could have been suited for it. The gray hairs at her muzzle and sprinkled throughout her pelt had vanished with her ascent to the stars, and the scars that had nicked both ears and stood out against her flank had also disappeared. She'd died an elder, though in Starclan Nighthawk looked a fair bit younger, more like the fresh-faced warrior she had been at one time in the distant past.

"Your grandmother," She sighed at last, "would have an aneurysm if she knew her idiot son fathered kits with a Windclanner. At least you don't look exactly like him at first glance, unlike that unfortunate Shadowclanner." It was a shame really, such a handsome tom had turned into something so very vile.

"You probably expected some lithe and wiry Windclanner to greet on the starlit moors, didn't you? I am Nighthawk, I was a Skyclan elder, and I died of illness during Asylum's reign of terror. In short, I knew your father, I knew your grandparents, and several generations before that." Nighthawk sat, tail curling over her paws.

"Sit, child. I suspect you have questions." She had noted his worries and anxieties, especially those centered around Dawnhawk. He wasn't his father, that much seemed clear, but there were plenty of cats who would not care to look beyond the surface of his unfortunate blood ties. Such cats were fools, but at least a few of them had reason to see things that way. Nighthawk at least, was not among their numbers.

The she-cat that finally came alight before Ryepaw was decidedly gruff. Her voice rattled with a power only a highly respected elder could dare to summon, and instinctively, the apprentice yielded to her, dipping his head and lowering his eyes to the ground. Nighthawk's matter-of-fact dismissal of Ryepaw's father did not surprise him, though he did feel a tremor of guilt shake his ribs with the force of her scorn.

"Actually, you're wrong," he warbled, "I didn't expect a WindClanner. You're exactly who I thought I'd see."

When he once again found the courage to look up into her eyes, he found himself thinking she was quite beautiful. Her frame was slight, but impossibly compact in muscle. She did not belong here, on the ground. She was made for leaping through the treetops, more like a bird than a feline. For the first time since finding out about his complicated ancestry, the physique signature to their rivals across the forest seemed less like a curse. He might have been considered very handsome, if not a little too tall, had he been born elsewhere.

"She doesn't have to know what her son did," he noted, rolling down to sit beside her. "As long as Ashfall doesn't run her maw, she won't. I don't want them to know who I am. Some cats are so open about it, being half-blood. Hayglow doesn't hide where she came from. But it's different when it's another clan. If they know... they have power over me."

He sighed. He was not sure if Nighthawk would be happy with his answer. "WindClan is in trouble now because of what he did. I don't want to be in trouble, too, because I'm connected. So... if you don't mind, I don't wanna know their names. Don't tell me who my grandmother is. Don't tell me about my kin. SkyClan doesn't acknowledge the mixed blood, anyway. I've got my clan. They will always want me. That's how my mentor taught me. It's all I know." His eyes flashed with urgency, and he continued, "But, I do gotta to know what he did. Nighthawk, there's something wrong with it all. My whole life, the stories of SkyClan have been about their corrupt leaders, and their wars, and their secretiveness. They scorn us, they're our enemy. So when Wolfstar told the forest that Dawnhawk should be killed if we find him... I rolled my eyes. I thought, what kind of leader is willing to break the Code when the warrior was already exiled? For a little bit after we all found out, I wanted to believe Wolfstar was just another cruel SkyClan leader, and that he was pursuing Dawnhawk for his pride."

"When my father stopped hiding, something changed. Like it wasn't just his fur that he was hiding," Ryepaw shuddered a little under his pelt. "Gives me the creeps. Now, I'm thinkin' Wolfstar knew something we didn't. I need to know the whole story. You were there... right?"

"Perhaps you are right. Dawnhawk traumatized her enough, I don't think she'd welcome any reminder at this point. She hardly tolerates your half-sister, and the poor thing hasn't done anything wrong other than be born to Dawnhawk and his mate in Skyclan." Nighthawk shook her head and sighed. "I must warn you, though. There is no real way to sugar coat what he's done. There is no short and concise explanation. To complicate things, it's not the first time Windclan has sheltered Skyclan's fugitives be it knowingly or not, and Skyclan aren't wrong to want vengeance for what atrocities Dawnhawk has committed. His actions affected most of the clan in some way or another, especially those directly related to him. That would be most of the clan, the family is known for throwing large litters with an absurd survival rate."

"As a kit, Dawnhawk was... a pawful, to put it bluntly. Snide and self-centered, constantly butting heads with his sister Beechface from the start. They brought out the worst in each other, and I don't think they've ever agreed on anything. There was always some argument or fight, someone was always having to break the two up for some nonsensical squabbling. Your grandparents... Tried. It seems like even Smokefeather couldn't handle them, maybe she just didn't know how. Dawnhawk knew how to step on anyone's last nerve, and his mother and sister were no exception. He was cruel, would play with prey and pluck the feathers from birds while they were helpless under his claws. Thought he hid it well, but at least a few noticed, and dying has a way of making things clearer. He and Beechface had a legitimate fight as an apprentice over something stupid, some she-cat from another clan he was a bit too friendly with. Claws and everything. Someone should have put a firm stop to it then."

"He knew how to use words to get what he wanted, knew how to get others to like him... Except for his mother and Beechface. I don't know if Smokefeather's patience was utterly destroyed by that point, or if she genuinely saw through him. Beechface simply didn't like him, and when she was forced into becoming a medicine cat and he sneered at her for it, well." Nighthawk let out a snort. "I think half the clan wanted to tear both their pelts off with how much they argued and refused to just leave things be. I think Beechface earned more sympathy from the clan, but she at least knew when she'd made a mistake and would own it. Dawnhawk didn't; it was always because of someone else, he was always retaliating against something."

"Eventually he joined the Asylum, and would go on to steal the pelt of a fox and kill a clanmate while wearing it. Swansong had never done anything, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Dawnhawk had been tasked with proving loyalty. Nobody knew this at the time, though. Eventually, Dawnhawk was the one to lead the Asylum to Skyclan's camp. Our deputy tried to fight them, and was swarmed by dozens of them. It... didn't go well. He was dragged out of camp, unconscious, and none of us saw him for moons afterward, with no word beyond that he was alive. Smokefeather found out she was expecting his kits a few days later." Nighthawk's ears flicked back, remembering how the queen had been beyond stressed. "She gives birth a few moons later to two she-kits with coats stained silver from stress. On that same night Wolfstar is forced to name a deputy, because he'd refused to up to that point in the hopes that we'd have our actual deputy back. He named Dawnhawk as deputy, and I still cannot wrap my head around how he thought that would foster any sort of peace between us and the Asylum. Beechface and several others spoke out against this quite vehemently, but his decision was final."

The elder sighed, taking a breathe, giving Ryepaw a moment before she forced herself to continue. He wanted to know what Dawnhawk had done, and he wanted to know all of it. She was beholden to answer him truthfully, regardless of whether he wanted to hear all of it.

"Time passes, things... Aren't great. One of the Asylum members attacks one of our warriors even though he did nothing to deserve it. Dawnhawk made an example out of her, I think he wanted to show Skyclan that he still cared, but it was too little, far too late for that. Not long after that, he caught one of our most respected warriors, Flowerthorn, complaining about the Asylum while in camp with her mate and Smokefeather. He tried to shut it down, Flowerthorn went after him with unsheathed claws. She was dragged away from camp, and Smokefeather looked like she'd seen a ghost. He... visited the nursery not long after that, to talk with her, supposedly. I died before the truth came out, and all I could do was watch from Starclan." A shudder of revulsion ran through her small frame. "Dawnhawk... said things that no son should ever say to their own mother. Smokefeather said things that no mother should say to their child in retaliation. Beechface showed up in the middle of them arguing, but her reasons are neither here nor there. What matters is that one of Smokefeather's kits attempted to approach Dawnhawk. Featherkit she was called, and she was sweet and innocent. She wasn't even three moons old."

"He killed her in front of Beechface, in front of Smokefeather and Mountainkit. He would have gone after Smokefeather and Mountainkit had Beechface not intervened. She was a medicine cat, but she trained as a warrior apprentice and liked to keep those skills sharp. Those skills meant nothing compared to the seasoned and talented fighter Dawnhawk was. He defeated her, soundly. His own guard finally decided to try to talk sense into him when he approached Smokefeather with her unconscious body." Nighthawk spat, still horrified that she had to even say the words at all. "He killed the guard, and the guard became the scapegoat. Dawnhawk had saved Beechface and Smokefeather from him, walking away unpunished. Whoever had helped clean Beechface up after the incident didn't do as thorough of a job as they should have, Dawnhawk's fur had caught in her claws, and she saved that, shoved the fur wrapped in leaves to the very back of her den. He'd threatened that they'd all be killed if the truth was ever revealed, and Smokefeather had to beg her not to tell anyone. She knew he'd make good on that threat, and she was terrified. She hasn't been the same since, and neither has Mountainkit, Mountainheart now. She was carried off by a hawk, and rescued by some Riverclan warriors, though again we didn't know at the time. Smokefeather would practically bolt every time she caught sight or scent of Dawnhawk. She remained in the nursery for a short while... And helped Beechface with delivering a queen's kittens. The litter was large, and most of the kittens were stillborn. She was distraught, of course, and her wailing caught Dawnhawk's attention. He... Thought that Beechface had killed the kits on purpose. He was their father, though nobody had known it until that point. The fight didn't become physical that time but the damage was already done." Stars, but the story was a long one... And having to watch what became of a once proud warrior had been soul crushing. There was a tiredness in Nighthawk's eyes as she met Ryepaw's, a tiredness of having seen far more than she'd ever wanted to.

"So, Asylum is finally ousted, some moons later. Bloodstrike is found... not exactly healthy or sane. He was the first of Asylum's prisoners, and if you've seen him at gatherings, you've seen the scars he bears. If you've seen Beechface, you've likely seen the scars that line her pelt as well, from her fights with Dawnhawk." A low huff escaped her. "But I am getting ahead of myself. Where was I...? The Asylum being ousted. Dawnhawk is banished from Skyclan, and Beechface takes the opportunity to reveal just what happened to Featherkit in the nursery those moons prior. Smokefeather would have protested that if she'd been there, but she was out hunting and Beechface... had enough. Bloodstrike had just been brought back to camp and had no clue about everything that had happened." Nighthawk didn't know if she would have been able to get her paws under her at all, in Bloodstrike's position. What was done was done, however.

"Dawnhawk fled after the battle with Asylum at fourtrees. He was swept away by the river, rescued by twolegs, and managed to flee them and return to the forest, before making a home for himself in twolegplace. While there, he met some loner, and I'm sure you've heard of how he disguised himself. He joined Windclan under false pretenses, as you know. He frequented twolegplace still, and scared the living daylights out of an apprentice who had strayed beyond Skyclan borders in pursuit of a rabbit. Copperfox showed up and attacked, because he thought she was in danger with Dawnhawk's claws at her throat. He survived, injured, while poor Birdsong escaped with wounded pride and a newfound respect for rules more than anything else. Dawnhawk however, did not stop there. He learned that the truth about Featherkit had come out, and he suspected that Smokefeather had been the one to tell the clan. She was out hunting one day, and he found her. Maimed her, sent her to the elder's den, though he'd intended to kill her.. Bloodstrike and Beechface were... enraged. Bloodstrike was still recovering from what the Asylum had done to him, so the two of them were cooped up in the medicine den for a while with their daughter watching over them."

"Bloodstrike organized a patrol to find Dawnhawk and take him out before he could cause any further harm. They found him in twolegplace... And failed. Tigersong, one of our warriors, was killed by him. Smokefeather still cannot bear the sight of Tornshadow and flinches at the sight of gold in her periphery vision. Moonshine of Shadowclan has even been mistaken for Dawnhawk at first glance because of how similar they look. A forest separates you from Skyclan, and as of now they do not know you are his." A weary sigh escaped Nighthawk as she gazed up at Ryepaw. Her eyes were unexpectedly gentle when she looked at him, shining with compassion and sympathy.

"There are those who will hold you accountable for his sins, Ryepaw. Especially in Skyclan, where tempers burn hotter than the greenleaf sun. His actions are not yours, and never will be. Remember that."

There was too much to take in at once. Ryepaw didn't bother trying to interrupt, or ask for clarification on any of her points. He just kept nodding. He kept counting, too. Inside, he kept a tally of all of Dawnhawk's sins. With the taste of bile high in his esophagus, he realized just how much lay in the darkness. It was a snake in the grass that had leaped out and struck him, and now its deadly pathogen was coursing through his body. Finally, he became completely stiff, except for the involuntary nodding of his head.

Attacked a clanmate.

Abused prey.

Murder.

Treason.

Murder.

Maimed.

Murder.

Exiled.

Kittypet.

Maimed.

Murder.

When she finished speaking, Ryepaw did not answer her. He stayed for a long few moments, listening to nothing but the sweet and gentle sounds of StarClan's rolling heavens. He wondered how long he could stay here. He wondered if he would die. He wished for it. To go back, and live this uncertain life, seemed like torture. Knowing the truth would not save WindClan. There is no chance that they would believe him; they were a terrible bunch of skeptics. And Ryepaw, being an angsty, impulse-driven, wild beast, had no chance of proving his honesty. You're angry, they would say, but that is no excuse to say such awful things. And Dawnhawk would go on in WindClan.

It seemed that no patrol was able to stop him. No force brought him down. No matter what atrocities he committed, SkyClan was ultimately unable to expel his contagion from their territory. Now, their persistence finally made sense. But as long as they chased him, he held the upper hand. He was slippery.

But Ryepaw wouldn't need to chase. In WindClan's camp, Dawnhawk would have nowhere to run. He suddenly stood, heart so quick he feared it might stop.

"I am accountable," he gasped. "As long as I sit 'round while he eats our prey and drinks from our stream, I'm accountable. He might be SkyClan's burden for now, but before y' know it, Dawnhawk is gonna be the whole forest's problem. If I kill him—"

It felt so foreign from his mouth that when it came out, it felt like a sob through a strangled throat. "If I kill him, will I still go to StarClan?"

"No you are not." Nighthawk mewed, a sternness in her tone that hadn't been there earlier. Amber eyes turned hard, and she held Ryepaw's gaze as she continued to speak. "He's killed kits and maimed experienced warriors. He'd killed enough. More experienced warriors than you have tried, Ryepaw, and they have all failed. Do not make the mistake of thinking that he will go easy on you because you are his kit. Dawnhawk is ruthless, and I say this as someone who has seen the ruthlessness of our leaders, the ruthlessness of Lichenmask, of dogs and sharptooths and the Righteous Few."

Giving him this warning was all Nighthawk could realistically do, of course. Any action he took was his own, but she had to at least make the attempt to dissuade him. "You have family and friends in Windclan who would be distraught to see you hurt or worse. Don't rush into something because you are fueled by anger. Dawnhawk for all his many faults is skilled, and knows how to use a cat's anger against them."

Ryepaw could feel the tugging of wakefulness in his paws, as if it were literally dragging him back down to earth as an unwilling passenger. He was not ready to go. He had so much left to ask her. Nighthawk held in her paws the secrets of the forest's most dangerous cat, and every one of her words was slipping like sand from Ryepaw's mind. He could feel himself... forgetting. The details were lost to a dream he'd only half-recall. The apprentice tried desperately to hang on as Nighthawk chided him, demanding that he heed her warning.

"If I don't do it, then he'll just get away again!" Ryepaw cried out. "I can never escape his shadow unless it's three fox-lengths underground!"

The apprentice dug his claws into the ground, fighting the amnesia of rest. What was the kit's name? He couldn't remember. Who was she, whose kit was this poor forgotten soul? No, no. He needed her name. Who else had he murdered after coming to WindClan? Who would be next?

Me, he realized, It will be me. I can't keep his secret forever. As soon as he finds out what I know, it will be me.

---

The scent of StarClan's territory faded from his nose. It was hardly a memory, now, opening his eyes to the clarity of sunlight peering through the hole in the cave. Ryepaw rubbed his eyes with a paw. Everything was too bright here.

The kit's name was already gone, as were all those SkyClan cats who he had been told of. Ryepaw didn't know how he knew it, but when he stood up he could sense that Dawnhawk was more dangerous a time than he ever could have anticipated. Ryepaw stood on the edge of a gorge, now, peering over the endless cliff to jagged rocks beneath. On the precipice, too, was his father. Anybody who knew what Ryepaw knew would die. Keep the secret, or be thrown over. Kill, or be killed.

"Sorry, Nighthawk," he whispered up to the sky. "But I'm all outta options."