"I need you to find someone for me."
Slatethroat didn't waste any time slipping into Dawnhawk's dreams. Although their spars were much more lively at the Night Fangs, as if he could feel his frame pulsating with something akin to life, this was an urgent matter. Claws could be sharpened later. Darkpaw. He had a name and her appearance was striking - easy to remember. Such a naïve, young thing. The she-cat had given him everything he needed and more. Her tale was a grand one, to proclaim her paws carried her to and from the afterlife. But it had only taken a moment to realize there was some truth to her claim. Slatethroat couldn't find her, he couldn't walk her dreams like every almost every other cat in the forest; Darkpaw had brought herself to him.
When she had appeared, the late tom had been stunned, but curious. Playing it kind and welcoming had been the right move, enticing her so easily into a momentary safety. It had gone so well. There was this nagging feeling in his mind that whatever this ability was, she would be the key to their power. There was no way pure coincidence lead to this growing strength and a living cat who could walk the dark forest of her own volition - there had to be a connection and he longed to find out. He padded back and forth slightly as he continued on.
"This she-cat, Darkpaw of Riverclan, she came to the dark forest. I didn't call her, and now I can't find her. There's something about her, she knows something. I think she walks with Starclan." Slatethroat stopped his pacing to look at Dawnhawk, "She's a calico, face split in two almost perfectly. Friendly and too trusting. It shouldn't be too hard. But if I'm right, Dawnhawk... somehow we could use this. This could be how we finally find out how to release this power. We won't be biding our time anymore."