The next morning was foggy. Brinepaw could feel the humidity weighing down on his fur as he exited the apprentices' den. The camp was completely enshrouded in white. Brinepaw could hear the ocean, but he could not see it beyond the thick fog. He waddled tiredly over to the fresh-kill pile. His muscles were sore. His mind flashed back to the top of the cliff.

He was standing there, at its edge. His inhales were ragged and sharp around the edges. The waves roared beneath him, hungry for blood.

Then he was falling, falling, falling. And everything else was a blur. The pain he felt upon impact, crashing into the depths of the sea. Being pressed against craggy boulders and then thrown into the sand. Ghost's illusory body and face, summoning vivid colors to paint the otherwise gray water's surface.

Then his return to camp and Fleetwater's cruel grin. A raised paw. Contact. Dizziness and pain.

Brinepaw was shaking now. He'd paused at the fresh-kill pile to choose something to eat, but his vision was obscured by nerves. He heard pawsteps approaching from behind. He wanted to run but he was frozen to the spot.

"Hey, are you okay?"

It was Burnetpaw.

"Yes," Brinepaw told him, breathing a sigh of relief. He rounded on his friend and tried to abandon his unpleasant feelings. "Want to share some prey with me?" he offered, doing his best to smile.

Burnetpaw gave him an affectionate nudge, "Sure."

They chose a red-furred squirrel from the pile and settled down to feast. Brinepaw realized that despite not eating much the previous day, he wasn't very hungry. He picked at the squirrel politely, but he allowed Burnetpaw to eat the majority of the meal. They didn't speak again until their food had been reduced to a pile of bones and a few thin scraps of meat.

Burnetpaw licked his chops, "Delicious," he purred.

Brinepaw would have nodded if he'd been listening, but he was gazing thoughtlessly into the mist.

He felt Burnetpaw prod his side, "Are you sure you're okay?"asked his friend, his words fringed with concern.

"I'm fine," Brinepaw responded, his voice barely even a whisper.

"Okay," said Burnetpaw, sounding unconvinced.

Together they watched as Fawnpaw passed with Sandfire. They were headed in the direction of the forest, presumably on their way to search for herbs. Fawnpaw blinked kindly as she went by, but Brinepaw refused to look at her.

Cool fog crept over the flat sand and descended upon them. Burnetpaw was squinting through the blanket of pearly moisture and smiling contentedly to himself.

"Where are the others?" Brinepaw questioned, remembering that the den had been empty when he'd left.

"Training," Burnetpaw replied without looking over at him, "Heronstrike took Milkpaw to the Saltwater Elm for some climbing lessons. And I think Bluepaw went to train with Bunnypaw and Robindust."

"Why?"

Burnetpaw shrugged, "Rainflight is busy, I guess."

"I'll bet Rainflight just didn't want to deal with that annoying furball," Brinepaw scoffed.

"Bluepaw's an okay cat, Brinepaw. Maybe if you actually gave him a chance, you would like him."

An awkward silence fell between them. Brinepaw was burning underneath his pelt. He wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. Burnetpaw would never understand. He got along so effortlessly with everyone. He didn't know what it was like to be the outcast.

"Brinepaw!"

Brinepaw whipped his head around to see Covestorm trotting towards him in the fog. His black stripes looked like tree branches in the cloudiness of camp. He halted in front of the two apprentices, his head bent over in exhaustion and his sides heaving.

"What is it?" Brinepaw's eyes were inquisitive.

"There's a WaveClan patrol at the border," Covestorm answered, "They're asking for you and they won't go away."

The air was tense. Brinepaw could feel Burnetpaw stiffen beside him.

"There must be some mistake," Burnetpaw started, glancing warily at Brinepaw, "Why would they want to speak to an apprentice?"

Covestorm flicked his tail, "They refuse to tell us anything." There was frustration burning at the back of his voice as he studied Brinepaw through cold, orange and gold irises. Brinepaw stared back at him. Covestorm didn't blink. "Come along, Brinepaw," he meowed.

"But he didn't do anythi—"

"It's okay, Burnetpaw," Brinepaw mewed as calmly as he could manage. He stood and shook out his oat brown fur. "Very well," he said, "Take me to them."

Even though he was very clearly exhausted, Covestorm wasted no time in heading back to the border. He hurried along, running so fast that Brinepaw had a hard time keeping up, even on fresh legs. They raced out of camp and into the fields.

There were seagulls overhead. Some were pure white, others a spotted gray. They stretched their delicate feathers into beautiful wings and sailed high on the tangy breeze. Brinepaw craned his neck to observe them as he ran. They were playful, dipping down and falling away on the wind before reconvening to fly together again. Their tails spread to form fluffy, cream-colored fans that fluttered up and down in the current.

Their sleek bodies camouflaged so well in the low hanging clouds that they seemed to disappear for a moment and then reappear in a different part of the sky. They were a part of the fog. Pale, concentrated moisture just floating through the air.

Covestorm was not talking. He'd not said a word since they left the camp. Brinepaw tore his eyes away from the seagulls and looked ahead of him. Covestorm's gray and black tail whisked behind him as his paws pounded the earth. Brinepaw could not see his face, but he was sure it was very serious.

The largely built apprentice put on a burst of speed and arrived beside his mentor. Sure enough, Covestorm's expression was steely and unsmiling. His muscles rippled underneath his fur as they galloped over the plains, flying past rocks and patches of flattened grass.

Suddenly Covestorm spoke, "Do you know what they want?"

Even though there was no one else around, it was unclear whom he was talking to. He delivered the question more like a statement, and he didn't even glance Brinepaw's way as he said it.

"I'm not sure," Brinepaw responded carefully.

Covestorm frowned. "If you do," he said, "You ought to tell me. Maybe I can help."

"What makes you think I need help?" Brinepaw countered.

His mentor did not answer right away. His expression turned pensive.

"I'm not saying you need help," he said at last, "I'm only saying that if you did, I would be here for you."

Brinepaw's throat clogged with panic. He forced it down.

"So," Covestorm continued, "Let say, hypothetically of course, you were to get into some trouble with an enemy clan. That's something you could confide in me."

The border stream was visible now, but only as a dark blur that cut through the fog.

Brinepaw tasted the air and caught a whiff of TideClan scent. Just beyond it, he could smell WaveClan, too.

"I promise, Covestorm, if I needed your help, I would ask for it."

A flash of hurt slid over Covestorm's expression, but he hid it quickly and returned to his usual stony face. Guilt pierced Brinepaw like slashing claws. He contemplated saying something more, something to cushion the blow, but they'd arrived.

Cedarfrost, Sunclaw, and Baycrash were sitting on the bank of the stream. On the other side were six WaveClan cats. Brinepaw scanned through them, recognizing the WaveClan deputy, Duskwing, at the head of the patrol. Four of the others were warriors that he didn't know by name, but the last cat was an apprentice.

He had black tabby fur and a lithe body. His searing hazel eyes were filled with anger.

Nightpaw!

Brinepaw felt a cool wave of relief wash over him.

Covestorm led Brinepaw over to their clanmates and together they sat down. Baycrash nodded at him with a slight smile, but Sunclaw and Cedarfrost looked very stern. There was so much depth to Cedarfrost's blue-gray eyes. The senior warrior looked expectant. Agitated, even. Brinepaw fixed his gaze on the rushing stream and the fog that traveled across its crystal clear surface.

There they were. Two clans, divided only by the water of a stream.

Duskwing turned his ash brown body to look at Nightpaw.

"Yes," Nightpaw said, "That's him." He bared his teeth and stared disgustedly at Brinepaw.

Brinepaw took a few paces forward. "Nightpaw," he mewed gleefully, "I'm so happy you're okay."

Nightpaw jumped back from the edge of the brook. "Stay back, freak!" he hissed.

"What exactly is going on here?" Cedarfrost mewed, bemused.

"My apprentice seems to think that Brinepaw here has, erm, powers, of a sort." Duskwing kneaded the ground with his chocolate brown paws as he spoke. The deputy appeared somewhat embarrassed to be passing on Nightpaw's claim, as if he didn't quite believe the rumors himself.

It was Covestorm who spoke next. "That preposterous!" he exclaimed, bounding up to join Brinepaw.

Duskwing sighed, "I thought so too," he admitted, "But when Lavenderpaw and Lilypaw brought him home..."

One of the WaveClan warriors padded over to Nightpaw's side. His inky eyes were so dark that his pupils were barely visible. "He was half-drowned," the WaveClan tom recalled, "Bloody and battered and hardly breathing. He nearly died."

Brinepaw's bright bronze eyes flickered over briefly to look at Nightpaw. The slate-furred apprentice had dried blood stuck to his rear legs. His eyes were distant and his paws shuffled nervously at the edge of the creek.

"Please, Brambleshadow, that's enough," Duskwing said as he raised a paw. The tomcat—Brambleshadow—bowed his head. Brinepaw observed his dark tabby pelt and realized suddenly that he was Nightpaw's father.

"I don't understand," Covestorm looked troubled, "How did this happen?"

The fog had thickened even further. It crept over the rolling hills and flooded the area. Brinepaw strained to make out the figures of the cats around him. He felt faint and disoriented as he considered his options. He could either come clean and tell the truth, or fabricate some lie that Nightpaw would tear apart in a matter of seconds.

Without meaning to, he let out a heavy breath that prompted everyone to look at him. They waited. Brinepaw understood that he was meant to say something.

But what could he say?

"I found Nightpaw, Lavenderpaw, and Lilypaw trespassing on our territory," Brinepaw explained, surveying the crowd. "I threatened them but they wouldn't leave. So I took them on in battle. I was outnumbered, obviously, and I was losing badly. But then..."

Ten pairs of eyes focused intently on him. Covestorm blinked in confusion.

He couldn't! He couldn't reveal his secret! Not now, right here, in front of an enemy clan! It was too much. Brinepaw felt like he was enclosed in a tiny cave. He started losing air. He was trapped. He tried to move but he couldn't. He tried to remember how to breathe but it was impossible.

He was at the top of the cliff again. He was running along the shore of black, crispy bodies. He was underneath Fleetwater's big paws. He was in the den with Milkpaw and her probing questions. He was at the gathering, lost in the sea of rainwater.

"Then I remembered a move that Covestorm taught me," Brinepaw's gaze flitted over to his mentor's anxiously as he finished his thought, "And I fought them off. I didn't mean to hurt Nightpaw, really. But I feared for my life."

"Liar!" Nightpaw cried, unsheathing his claws and ripping up clumps of grass.

"Quiet, Nightpaw!" Duskwing ordered, "We are not here to start a fight."

Nightpaw didn't listen. "Tell the truth!" he snarled, lashing his long tail.

"I am telling the truth," Brinepaw insisted.

Nightpaw bolted across the stream and lunged for him. Brinepaw readied himself, falling back on his haunches and allowing his claws to slide out of their sockets. The WaveClan apprentice bowled him over and the two cats rolled through the swathe of fog in a flurry of teeth and claws.

The WaveClan warriors darted over the water to pull Nightpaw out of the fight. Meanwhile, Covestorm led the TideClan cats to Brinepaw's aid. Somewhere amid the chaos, a battle broke out.

Brinepaw fought the urge to use his abilities, but he could feel himself losing early on. Nightpaw struck blow after blow. Soon, hot blood dripped down Brinepaw's cheek. He fell onto his back and saw Nightpaw's gnashing teeth above him. He kicked frantically with his back paws and writhed back and forth to free himself.

When at last he slipped out of the other tom's grasp, Brinepaw limped away. But Nightpaw latched onto his back and yanked him back into the dirt. Brinepaw yelped as he crashed down onto his belly.

Nightpaw fastened his jaws around Brinepaw's head.

"Do it," Nightpaw taunted, "Use your powers. Show them what a liar you are."

Brinepaw dragged himself across the ground, Nightpaw still secured to his back. Caterwauls came from every direction. Ahead of him, Brinepaw could see Cedarfrost fending off two WaveClan toms. Over the stream, Baycrash was pinned to the ground and Sunclaw was held back by Duskwing.

He could smell the blood.

Brinepaw flipped onto his back, knocking Nightpaw off. Then, he jumped to his feet and searched desperately for Covestorm. He located him in the shallows of the stream, pinned under the water by two WaveClan cats. His opponents' pelts were spattered with blood, but they had no wounds. The water around Covestorm's body was dark red.

Brinepaw sprang up on his hind legs, flailing his forepaws in front of his face. Water shot up from the stream and sent the two WaveClan warriors skirting backwards. There was shock on their faces as they lost their balance and tumbled over. Covestorm remained underwater, motionless.

Nightpaw had recovered now. He was sitting up a few tail-lengths away with his hazel eyes opened wide.

Brinepaw ignored the other apprentice and scampered over to his mentor. He ducked his head under the water, grabbed Covestorm's scruff, and pulled him onto the bank.

The battle raged on. Brinepaw felt helpless as he stood there, bent over Covestorm's lifeless, tattered frame. His mentor's normally pristine tabby fur was slicked down by a revolting combination of mud and pus. His wounds oozed blood that stunk of death and seeped down into the soil. But most troubling of all were the horrible sounds that came from the warrior's lungs.

He was still holding on. Air rattled in and out of his body, but just barely. With each breath, Covestorm shook violently. Brinepaw felt a whine escape his chest. He pounded the ground with his paws. He shoved his nose into Covestorm's filthy pelt.

Don't leave me.

There was water sloshing around inside of Covestorm's body. Brinepaw could hear it. He pressed an ear to Covestorm's side.

There it was again!

Nightpaw appeared nearby, but his stance wasn't hostile. Instead, he looked oddly merciful. There was pity in his eyes.

Suddenly, everything was quiet. The warriors had stopped fighting upon realizing that Covestorm was hurt. Now, they gathered in a circle around Brinepaw. The TideClan cats wore horrified, mournful expressions. The two warriors that had injured Covestorm plodded over with their tails drooping in shame. They carved a trail of darkness as they moved through the fog, their sopping wet fur clinging to their bony sides like cobweb.

It was a rather ghostly scene. Brinepaw lay with Covestorm at the focal point of the circle, his face still mashed into the tangle of his mentor's fur. A wall of fog surrounded them. The soft slopping of the border stream was strangely unsettling.

Brinepaw had narrow vision. He forgot about the other cats and about the battle. He forgot about the fog and the stream. All of his senses and all of his awareness traveled inside of Covestorm's body.

The water had flooded his lungs and blocked his windpipe. It gurgled and bubbled up and down and through him. Brinepaw knew it was there.

He closed his eyes.

The whole world held its breath. The birds stopped singing and the wind faded away. The noise of the creek was gone.

Gingerly, Brinepaw pulled the water from Covestorm's system. His mentor's jaws parted ever so slightly to allow the liquid to slip out. A thin flow of water floated out of his mouth. Brinepaw could feel the disbelieving stares of the others cutting into him as he worked. Sunclaw let out an audible gasp.

Soon, the water was pouring out. It grew and grew in volume until a huge, round sphere spun just above Covestorm's head. Brinepaw opened his eyes.

His mentor choked and sputtered. He sat up as he coughed out another puddle of water.

The misty air filled with cheers.

Brinepaw felt as though he would burst from happiness. "Thank StarClan!" he huffed, his face falling into the smooth grass.

Covestorm was dazed. He stood up on shaky paws.

Brinepaw could hear the babbling brook again and the squawks of the seagulls. He could feel the cool mist wrap around him. But his vision had not yet cleared; it remained dark and shrouded.

The WaveClan cats were all staring at Nightpaw. Nightpaw looked distraught, shell-shocked, even. "I told you," he murmured, unblinking.

Cedarfrost sat very still, only his long, chestnut-colored fur waving in the humid breeze. Baycrash was still panting from the battle, and clumps of fur had been torn from her skin. Sunclaw sat a few paces away from them, his viridescent eyes stretched in surprise.

"What happened?" Covestorm asked when he had registered his surroundings.

"Brinepaw just saved your life." Cedarfrost's voice was a rumble in his chest.

Covestorm noticed the moist grass. He turned to his apprentice, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the levitating water.

Brinepaw gave a weak smile.

The big tabby took another moment to glance around at the circle of cats. He seemed to remember where he was. "Is what Nightpaw said... true?" Covestorm questioned, fascinated. His gaze moved slowly upwards to rest on the water. "Are these the powers he was referring to?"

"Yes." Brinepaw let the water splash onto the ground.

The group let out a collective gasp as sparkling droplets sprayed their faces.

Covestorm was beaming. His gold-flecked eyes twinkled with something Brinepaw wasn't used to. Was that... pride?

"Come on," his mentor purred, "We're going home."

The WaveClan cats regrouped on the other side of the border and stood to watch TideClan leave. Duskwing looked somewhat bothered.

Brinepaw felt drowsy as he walked. Covestorm stayed nearby, bumping his shoulder with every step. Normally, Brinepaw would have told him to stop, but he was too worn out to be aggravated.

Baycrash was leaning on Sunclaw. Cedarfrost was trying hard not to look at Brinepaw, but he was not succeeding. The mood was very bizarre as they trekked back to camp. Nobody wanted to say a word, and yet it felt that an entire conversation was being shared.

Brinepaw felt like a spirit walking through the cloudy terrain as Ghost's words echoed in his ears.

You cannot die just yet.

The wind picked up again and whistled through his fur.

You're important, Brinepaw. You're vital.

He was beginning to understand.