Confused and unhappy, Nightshade made for the warriors' den. Before she reached it she hesitated. She did not want to risk meeting Tigerclaw, and she wasn't in the mood for sharing tongues with her friends. Especially not with Longtail, who had been watching her all day with that unsettling intensity that made her shadow-walker instincts prickle with discomfort.

Instead, almost unconsciously, she headed for the tunnel of ferns that led to Yellowfang's den.

Cinderpaw limped out and almost collided with her. Nightshade fell back on her haunches with a thump, and Cinderpaw skidded to a halt, spraying her with snow.

"Sorry, Nightshade," she puffed. "I didn't see you there."

Nightshade shook the snow off her dark coat. Her heart felt suddenly lighter at the sight of Cinderpaw, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and fur sticking out in all directions. This was how she used to look before her accident; for a while, after the incident, Nightshade had been afraid that this Cinderpaw had vanished forever. "What's the hurry?" she asked.

"I'm going out to look for herbs for Yellowfang," Cinderpaw explained. "So many cats have been ill, what with all this snow, that her stocks are getting very low. I want to find as much as I can before it gets dark."

"I'll come and help you," Nightshade offered. Bluestar had made it clear she should make herself useful after their tense conversation about the RiverClan kits, and not even Tigerclaw could find fault if she went to collect herbs for the medicine cat.

"Great!" Cinderpaw meowed happily.

Side by side, they headed across the clearing toward the gorse tunnel. Nightshade had to slow her pace to match Cinderpaw's, but if the gray cat was aware of it she didn't seem to mind.

Just before they reached the tunnel, Nightshade heard the shrill voices of kits. She turned and stared at the branches of a fallen tree, close to the elders' den. A group of kits had surrounded Brokentail, who had been given a nest among the branches.

Ever since Bluestar had offered shelter to Brokentail, he had lived alone in his den, with warriors to guard him. Not many cats passed that way, and the kits had no reason to be anywhere near him.

"Rogue! Traitor!" That was Cloudkit's voice raised in a jeering meow. Nightshade watched in alarm as the white kit darted forward, jabbed Brokentail in the ribs with one paw, and scrambled back out of range. One of the other kits copied him, squealing, "Can't catch me!"

Darkstripe, whose turn it was to guard the blind cat, made no attempt to send the kits away. He sat a fox-length away, watching with his paws tucked under him and a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Brokentail swung his head from side to side in frustration, but with his cloudy, unseeing eyes he could not retaliate. His dark tabby fur looked dull and patchy, and his broad face was scored with scars, some of them from the clawing that had ruined his eyes. There was no trace of the former arrogant and bloodthirsty leader now.

Nightshade exchanged a worried glance with Cinderpaw. Many cats, she knew, thought Brokentail deserved to suffer, but seeing the former leader so old and helpless, she could not help feeling a scrap of pity. As a shadow-walker, she understood that true justice rarely resembled simple cruelty.

Anger began to burn inside her as the taunting went on. "Wait for me," she mewed to Cinderpaw, and hurried over toward the edge of the clearing.

She saw Cloudkit pounce on the blind tom's tail, worrying it with needle-sharp teeth. Brokentail scrabbled away from him on unsteady legs and swiped one paw in his direction.

In an instant, Darkstripe jumped to his paws, hissing, "Touch that kit, traitor, and I'll flay your skin in strips!"

Nightshade was too angry to speak. Leaping toward Cloudkit, she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and swung him around, away from Brokentail.

Cloudkit wailed in protest. "Stop it! That hurts!"

Nightshade dropped him firmly into the snow and let out a low growl through bared teeth. "Go home!" she ordered the other kits. "Go home to your mothers. Now!"

The kits stared at her, wide-eyed with fear—her normally dark pelt seeming to momentarily absorb more shadows around her—and then scuttled off, to disappear into the nursery.

"As for you—" Nightshade hissed to Cloudkit.

"Leave the kit alone," Darkstripe interrupted, padding up to stand beside Cloudkit. "He's not doing any harm."

"Keep out of this, Darkstripe," growled Nightshade.

Darkstripe shouldered past her, almost knocking her over, before stalking back to his prisoner. "Shadow-lover!" he sneered over his shoulder, his particular insult for her mysterious tendencies.

Nightshade's muscles tensed. She wanted to leap at Darkstripe and force the insult back down his throat, but she stopped herself. This was no time for Clan warriors to start fighting each other. Besides, she had to deal with Cloudkit.

"Did you hear that?" she demanded, glaring down at the white kit. "Is that how ThunderClan warriors behave?"

"So?" Cloudkit muttered mutinously. "What's wrong? He's a traitor!"

Nightshade sighed. "There's more to being a warrior than fighting," she explained patiently. "A true warrior—the best warrior—isn't cruel or mean. He doesn't claw an enemy who can't fight back. Where's the honor in that?"

Cloudkit ducked his head, not meeting Nightshade's eyes. She hoped her words had made an impression. Looking around for Cinderpaw, she saw that she had gone up to Brokentail and was checking his tail where Cloudkit had worried it. "There's no damage," she mewed to the blinded tom.

Brokentail crouched motionless, his ruined eyes fixed on his paws, and did not respond. Reluctantly Nightshade went over and nudged the old cat to his paws. "Come on," she meowed. "Let's get you back to your den."

Brokentail turned in silence and let Nightshade guide him back to the leaf-lined hollow under the dead branches. Darkstripe watched them shuffle past with a contemptuous flick of his tail.

"Right, Cinderpaw," Nightshade meowed when Brokentail was settled. "Let's go and find those herbs."

"Where are you going?" Cloudkit piped up, bouncing over to them with all his energy restored. "Can I come?"

When Nightshade hesitated, Cinderpaw mewed, "Oh, let him come, Nightshade. He only gets into trouble because he's bored. And we could do with some more help."

Cloudkit's eyes gleamed with pleasure, and a loud purr rose from his throat, an enormous sound to come from his small, fluffy body.

Nightshade shrugged. "All right. But put one paw wrong, and you'll be back in the nursery before you can say 'mouse'!"

Limping steadily, Cinderpaw led the way along the ravine to the hollow where the apprentices had their training sessions. Already the sun was beginning to go down, casting long shadows across the snow that Nightshade found oddly comforting. Cloudkit scampered ahead of them, peering into holes in the rock and stalking imaginary prey.

"How can you find herbs with snow on the ground?" Nightshade asked. "Won't everything be frozen?"

"There'll still be berries," Cinderpaw pointed out. "Yellowfang told me to look for juniper—that's good for coughs and bellyaches—and broom to make poultices for broken legs and wounds. Oh, and alder bark for toothache."

"Berries!" Cloudkit skittered sideways toward them. "I'll find lots for you!" He dashed away again in the direction of a clump of bushes growing up the side of the hollow.

Cinderpaw flicked her tail in amusement. "He's keen," she remarked. "Once he's apprenticed, he'll learn quickly."

Nightshade made a noncommittal noise in her throat. Cloudkit's energy reminded her of Cinderpaw when she was first made apprentice. Except Cinderpaw would never have taunted a helpless cat like blind Brokentail.

"If he's assigned to me as an apprentice, he'll have a lot to learn about honor before battle skills," she muttered, thinking of how appropriate it might be for the kit with kittypet origins to be mentored by a shadow-walker whose own background remained mysterious to the Clan.

"Oh, yes?" Cinderpaw gave Nightshade a teasing look. "You're a really tough mentor—all your apprentices will be trembling in their fur!"

Nightshade met her laughing eyes and felt herself relaxing. As usual, being with Cinderpaw was lifting her spirits. She would stop worrying about Cloudkit and get on with the job they had come to do.

"Cinderpaw!" Cloudkit called from farther along the hollow. "There are berries here—come and look!"

Nightshade craned her neck and saw the white kit crouching beneath a small, dark-leaved bush that pushed its way up between two rocks. Bright scarlet berries grew close to the stems.

"They look tasty," Cloudkit mewed as the two cats drew nearer. He stretched his jaws wide to take a hungry mouthful.

At the same moment a gasp came from Cinderpaw. To Nightshade's amazement she shot forward, propelling herself over the snow as fast as her injured leg would allow. "No, Cloudkit!" she yowled.

She barreled into the kit, bowling him over. Cloudkit squealed in shock and the two cats scuffled together on the ground. Nightshade bounded over, anxious that Cloudkit might hurt the injured Cinderpaw, but as she reached them Cinderpaw pushed the kit off her and sat up, panting. "Did you touch one?" she demanded.

"N-No," Cloudkit stammered, puzzled. "I was only—"

"Look." Cinderpaw shoved him around until his nose was a mouse-length from the bush. Nightshade had never heard her sound so fierce. "Look but don't touch. That's yew. The berries are so poisonous they are called deathberries. Even one could kill you."

Cloudkit's eyes were round as the full moon. Speechless for once, he gazed, horrified, at Cinderpaw.

"All right," she mewed more gently, giving his shoulder a couple of comforting licks. "It didn't happen this time. But take a good look now, so you don't make that mistake again. And never—do you hear me, never—eat anything if you don't know what it is."

"Yes, Cinderpaw," Cloudkit promised.

"Go on looking for berries, then." Cinderpaw nudged the kit to his paws. "And call me as soon as you find anything."

Cloudkit padded off, glancing back over his shoulder once or twice as he went. Nightshade couldn't remember seeing him so subdued. Bold as the kit was, he had received a real shock. "It's a good thing you were here, Cinderpaw," she meowed, feeling a pang of guilt that she hadn't known enough to warn Cloudkit. "You've learned such a lot from Yellowfang."

"She's a good teacher," Cinderpaw replied. She shook several clumps of snow off her fur and began padding up the hollow after Cloudkit. Nightshade walked beside her, once more slowing her pace to match hers.

This time Cinderpaw noticed. "You know, my leg has healed as much as it ever will," she meowed quietly. "I'll be sorry to leave Yellowfang's den, but I can't stay there forever." She turned to look at Nightshade. All the mischief had faded from her eyes; instead, there was pain and uncertainty in the blue depths. "I don't know what I'll do."

Nightshade stretched over to her and rubbed her face comfortingly against hers. "Bluestar will know."

"Maybe." Cinderpaw shrugged. "Ever since I was a tiny kit, I wanted to be just like Bluestar. She's so noble, and she's given her whole life to the Clan. But Nightshade, what can I give now?"

"I don't know," Nightshade admitted.

The life of a cat could be followed clearly through the Clan, from kit to apprentice to warrior, sometimes to queen, and then retired to an honorable old age among the elders. Nightshade had no idea what happened to a cat who was injured too badly for the warrior life, for the long patrols, the hunting and fighting that were required of a warrior. Even the queens who cared for the kits in the nursery had all been warriors once, with skills that enabled them to feed and defend their little ones.

Cinderpaw was brave and intelligent, and before her accident she had shown endless energy and commitment to the Clan. Surely that couldn't all be thrown away? This is Tigerclaw's fault, Nightshade thought darkly. He laid the trap that led to her accident. "You should go to Bluestar," she suggested out loud. "Ask her what she thinks."

"Perhaps I will." Cinderpaw shrugged.

"Cinderpaw!" A shrill meow from Cloudkit interrupted them. "Come and see what I've found!"

"Coming, Cloudkit!" Cinderpaw limped away, mewing good-humoredly to Nightshade as she went, "Maybe it's deadly nightshade this time."

Nightshade watched her go. She hoped that Bluestar would be able to find a way to give Cinderpaw a worthwhile life within the Clan. Cinderpaw was right: Bluestar was a great leader, and not just in battle. She truly cared for all her cats.

Knowing that, Nightshade felt even more confused when she remembered Bluestar's reaction to Graypool's news. Why had Bluestar acted so strangely when told that two RiverClan warriors had been ThunderClan kits? The story had outraged her so much that she was closing her eyes to the danger from Tigerclaw.

As Nightshade turned to follow Cinderpaw, she noticed movement at the edge of the hollow. Graystripe stood watching her, his yellow eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her pelt prickle uncomfortably. He hadn't announced his presence or joined their herb-gathering party, but had clearly been following her from camp.

This wasn't the first time she'd caught him watching her from a distance. His interest had started subtly enough—always managing to be on the same patrols, bringing her choice pieces of fresh-kill, finding excuses to speak with her. But lately his behavior had grown more concerning, especially after she'd politely declined his increasingly obvious advances.

Nightshade pretended not to notice him, focusing instead on catching up with Cinderpaw. There was a deeply buried mystery surrounding those RiverClan cats with ThunderClan scent, and she was beginning to feel that it might be beyond her power to ever understand it. For now, helping Cinderpaw and keeping an eye on Cloudkit would have to be enough.