"Well, if it isn't our newest apprentice, Shadowpaw!"

Nightshade looked up from her vole to see Longtail swaggering toward her, his tail waving in the air. "Ready for a training session?" the warrior sneered. "Tigerclaw sent me to be your mentor."

Taking her time, Nightshade swallowed the last of the vole and rose to her paws. She could guess what had happened. Bluestar had told Tigerclaw about the punishment, and Tigerclaw had wasted no time in organizing the first patrol. Naturally he would choose the cat who had developed such an uncomfortable obsession with her to supervise her hunting—though whether to torment her or Longtail was unclear.

Beside her, Graystripe jumped up and took a pace toward Longtail. "Watch what you say," he snarled. "We're not apprentices!"

"That's not the way I heard it," replied Longtail, swiping his tongue appreciatively over his jaws as if he had just swallowed a tasty morsel. His gaze lingered uncomfortably on Nightshade, a mixture of hostility and fascination that had characterized their interactions since she'd rejected his increasingly forceful advances.

"Then we'd better put you right," Nightshade said evenly, her shadow-essence stirring defensively. "Do you need another reminder of what happens when you overstep boundaries?"

Longtail took a step back. He was clearly remembering a previous confrontation where Nightshade had demonstrated some of her shadow-walker abilities—not enough to reveal her heritage, but sufficient to establish that she wasn't to be trifled with.

"You'd better watch it," the warrior blustered. "Tigerclaw'll have your tails off if you touch me. He's especially protective of you lately, Nightshade."

"It would be worth it," Nightshade retorted. "Call me Shadowpaw once more, and you'll find out why shadows can be dangerous."

Longtail said nothing, only turning his head aside to lick his pale fur. Nightshade relaxed her threatening stance. "Come on, then," she grunted. "If we're going to hunt, let's get on with it."

She and Graystripe led the way out of the gorse tunnel and up the side of the ravine. Longtail followed, loudly suggesting where to hunt as if he were in charge, but once they were in the forest Nightshade and Graystripe did their best to ignore him.

The day was cold and gray, and a thin rain had begun to fall. Prey was hard to find. Graystripe caught sight of movement in some bracken fronds and went to investigate, but Nightshade was almost ready to give up by the time she saw a chaffinch pecking around the roots of a hazel bush. She dropped into a crouch, creeping forward paw by paw while the bird pecked on unawares.

She was preparing to pounce, her haunches rocking from side to side, when Longtail jeered, "Call that a crouch? I've seen better on a three-legged rabbit!" As soon as he spoke the chaffinch fluttered away in a panic, letting out a loud alarm call.

Nightshade whirled around furiously. "That was your fault!" she snarled. "As soon as it heard you—"

"Rubbish," meowed Longtail, stepping unnecessarily close to her. "Don't make excuses. You couldn't catch a mouse if it sat between your paws." His tone was mocking, but his gaze traveled over her with that strange mixture of aggression and fascination that made her shadow-essence bristle defensively.

Nightshade flattened her ears and bared her teeth, but as she braced herself for confrontation, she suddenly wondered if Longtail was deliberately provoking her. Longtail would have a fine story to tell Tigerclaw if she attacked him, potentially worsening her punishment.

"Fine," Nightshade growled through her teeth. "If you're so good, show us how it's done."

"As if there'll be any prey left, after the racket that bird made when you scared it," Longtail sneered.

"Now who's making excuses?" Nightshade spat back.

Before Longtail could reply, Graystripe emerged from the bracken with a vole in his jaws. He dropped it beside Nightshade and began to kick earth over it to bury it until they were ready to return to camp.

Longtail used the interruption to turn away and stalk toward the tunnel Graystripe had made in the bracken.

Graystripe watched him go. "What's the matter with him? He looks as if he's swallowed mouse bile."

Nightshade shrugged. "Nothing new. He can't decide whether to hate me or follow me around like Cloudkit does."

"The whole Clan's acting strange lately," Graystripe muttered. "Have you noticed how they watch you? It's getting worse."

"Let's just focus on hunting," Nightshade replied, uncomfortable with the observation. "We need to bring back enough prey to satisfy Tigerclaw."

After that, Longtail left them alone, and by sunset the two warriors had collected a respectable pile of fresh-kill to carry back to the camp.

"You take some to the elders," Nightshade suggested to Graystripe as they dragged the last pieces in. "I'll see to Yellowfang and Cinderpaw." She chose a squirrel and headed toward the medicine cat's den. Yellowfang was standing outside the cleft in the rock, with Cinderpaw sitting in front of her. The gray apprentice looked happy and alert. She was sitting very straight, with her tail wrapped around her paws, and her blue eyes were fixed on Yellowfang as she listened to the old cat.

"We can chew up ragwort leaves and mix them with crushed juniper berries," rasped Yellowfang. "It makes a good poultice for aching joints. Do you want to try doing it?"

"Okay!" Cinderpaw mewed enthusiastically. She sprang up and sniffed the heap of herbs Yellowfang had laid on the ground. "Does it taste bad?"

"No," answered Yellowfang, "but try not to swallow it. A bit won't hurt you, but too much will give you a bellyache. Yes, Nightshade, what do you want?"

Nightshade crossed the clearing, dragging the squirrel between her front paws. Cinderpaw was already crouching in front of the ragwort, chewing vigorously, but she flicked her tail at Nightshade in greeting, her eyes lighting up with that now-familiar intensity.

"This is for you," Nightshade mewed as she dropped the squirrel beside Yellowfang.

"Oh, yes, Runningwind told me you were back on apprentice duties," Yellowfang growled. "Mouse-brain! You might have known some cat would find out you were helping RiverClan."

"Well, it's done now." Nightshade didn't want to talk about her punishment.

To her relief, Yellowfang seemed happy to change the subject. "I'm glad you've come," she meowed, "because I want a word with you. You see that poultice?" She lifted her muzzle toward the green mash of chewed leaves Cinderpaw was making.

"Yes."

"It's for Smallear. He's in my den now, with the worst case of stiff joints I've seen in moons. He can hardly move. And if you ask me, it's all because his nest was recently lined with damp moss." Her tone was mild, but her yellow eyes burned into Nightshade's.

Nightshade felt her heart sink. "This is about Cloudkit, isn't it?"

"I think so," mewed Yellowfang. "He's been careless about the bedding he's brought in. If you ask me, he hasn't bothered to shake the water off."

"But I showed him how—" Nightshade broke off. She had troubles enough of her own, she thought; it wasn't fair that she had to keep dealing with Cloudkit's inappropriate fixation as well. She took a deep breath. "I'll have a word with him," she promised.

"Do that," grunted Yellowfang. "That kit follows you around like a shadow—though you'd know more about shadows than most, wouldn't you?" The old medicine cat's perceptive gaze suggested she understood more about Nightshade's nature than she let on.

Cinderpaw sat up, spitting out scraps of ragwort. "Is that chewed enough?"

Yellowfang inspected her work. "Excellent," she meowed.

Cinderpaw's blue eyes glowed with the praise, while Nightshade glanced appreciatively at the old medicine cat. It gave her a warm feeling to see how Yellowfang made Cinderpaw feel useful and needed despite her injury.

"Now you can fetch the juniper berries," Yellowfang went on. "Let's see...three should be enough. You know where I keep them?"

"Yes, Yellowfang." Cinderpaw headed for the split in the rock, bouncing in spite of her limp, her tail lifted high. At the mouth of the den she looked back. "Thanks for the squirrel, Nightshade," she meowed with unusual brightness. "Your hunting is always the best—you move so gracefully, like you're part of the shadows themselves."

Nightshade tensed slightly at this observation, but Cinderpaw had already disappeared into the den.

Yellowfang looked after her approvingly and let out a rusty purr. "Now there's a cat who knows what she's doing," she murmured. "Though she's developing quite the admiration for you. Like many others in the Clan." The old medicine cat's yellow eyes held a curious intensity. "Strange how so many cats seem drawn to you lately, isn't it?"

Nightshade shifted uncomfortably. "I'll go and find Cloudkit right now," she replied, deliberately changing the subject. She touched her nose briefly to Yellowfang's flank before padding out of her den.

The white kit was not in the nursery, so Nightshade tried the elders' den. As she entered, she heard Halftail's voice. "So the leader of TigerClan stalked the fox for a night and a day, and on the second night— Hello, there, Nightshade. Come to listen to the story?"

Nightshade glanced around. Halftail was curled up in the moss with Patchpelt and Dappletail nearby. Cloudkit was crouched in the shelter of the big tabby's body, his blue eyes lighting up with uncomfortably intense enthusiasm when he saw her.

"Nightshade!" he exclaimed. "You came to see me! I knew you would!"

"No, thanks, Halftail," she meowed. "I can't stay. I just wanted to talk to Cloudkit. Yellowfang says he's been bringing in damp bedding."

Dappletail let out a snort. "What nonsense!"

"She's been listening to Smallear," meowed Patchpelt. "He'd complain if StarClan descended from Silverpelt themselves to bring his bedding."

Nightshade's fur prickled with embarrassment. She hadn't expected to find the elders making excuses for Cloudkit. "Well, have you or haven't you?" she demanded, fixing the kit with a stern gaze.

Cloudkit blinked up at her. "I tried to get it right, Nightshade. I wanted to make you proud of me!"

"He's only a kit," Dappletail pointed out fondly. "And he's been telling us all about how you rescued him from that badger. Such bravery!"

"Yes, well..." Nightshade scraped her paws on the floor of the den. "Smallear has got aching joints."

"Smallear has had aching joints for seasons," meowed Halftail. "Since well before this kit was littered. You mind your own business, Nightshade, and let us mind ours."

"Sorry," Nightshade muttered. "I'll go, then. Cloudkit, just make sure you're extra careful about damp moss in the future, okay?"

"I'll do anything you ask!" the kit replied eagerly, his intense stare making her shadow-essence prickle with discomfort.

She started backing out of the den. As she left, she heard Cloudkit meow, "Go on, Halftail. Finish the story quickly so I can go find Nightshade again!"

Nightshade was glad to escape into the clearing. She couldn't help thinking that Cloudkit probably had been careless over the moss, but it looked like the rest of the elders wouldn't have a word said against him. Free to take fresh-kill for herself now that she had hunted for the elders, Nightshade was trotting over to the heap when she noticed Brokentail lying outside his den. Tigerclaw was beside him, and the two cats were sharing tongues like old friends.

Surprised by this unusual sight, Nightshade paused in the shadows of a nearby bush. Was this Tigerclaw's merciful side making a rare appearance? She could just hear the rumble of Tigerclaw's voice, though she was too far away to make out the words. Brokentail replied briefly, looking much more relaxed, as if he was responding to the deputy's friendliness.

Suddenly all of Nightshade's shadow-walker senses went on alert. There was something wrong about this scene—something calculated in the way Tigerclaw was positioning himself, something rehearsed in their interaction. She remembered Tigerclaw's meeting with the rogues by Twolegplace, and a chill ran down her spine.

What if Tigerclaw was recruiting Brokentail for some plot against ThunderClan? The former ShadowClan leader was a dangerous, vicious cat who had killed his own father to gain power. If Tigerclaw was planning something treacherous, Brokentail would make a powerful ally.

Nightshade's shadow-essence flared with protective instinct. She needed to get closer, to hear what they were discussing. Carefully, she slipped deeper into shadow-form, her pelt darkening as she moved silently through the camp's shadows, her form becoming nearly invisible to casual observation.

As she drew nearer, she caught fragments of their conversation.

"...when the time comes," Tigerclaw was murmuring. "You'll know what to do..."

"...and my reward?" Brokentail replied quietly.

"Everything I promised," Tigerclaw assured him. "Freedom, revenge...and a place in the new order."

Nightshade felt her blood run cold. This confirmed her worst fears—Tigerclaw was plotting something significant, and Brokentail was to play a role in it. But what exactly were they planning? And when would they act?

She retreated silently, shifting back to normal form once she was at a safe distance. Her mind whirled with implications. What if Tigerclaw was planning to seize power for himself? What if the rogues she'd seen him meeting with were part of some larger scheme?

As Nightshade padded more slowly over to the pile of fresh-kill, she felt the weight of her knowledge pressing down on her. She needed to learn more, to gather evidence before bringing such serious accusations against the Clan deputy. But time might be running out.

Her shadow-walker heritage had always placed her on the boundaries between worlds, allowing her to see what others missed. Now that ability had revealed a dangerous threat at the heart of ThunderClan itself—but would anyone believe her if she spoke out? And with her loyalty already questioned because of the RiverClan incident, who would trust her word against Tigerclaw's?

For now, she would need to watch and wait, gathering allies she could trust. But one thing was certain—darkness was gathering in ThunderClan, and it had nothing to do with her shadow-walker abilities. This was a darkness that threatened everything the Clan stood for.