Dewpaw sat vigil for Birchfrost throughout the night. Alongside him, Jaystrike, Condor, Cinderblossom, and Sprucetail said their silent goodbyes. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the first time he had ever seen snow, back in the cardboard camp of the alley cats, and Birchfrost's kind face as she explained what it was. It was a bittersweet memory now that she had passed.

Sitting next to Cinderblossom, he moved the tiniest bit closer. She had nearly been cleared by Mothpelt and her greencough was slowly going away, but the small coughs still rang out throughout the night until she was forced to retire to the medic's den. They did not speak to each other and, for the first time, Dewpaw felt a bit of guilt.

The following night the trainees returned from training to find a new body in the centre of camp. Quartz, the mentor they had all known and respected, looked so terribly small in death. Beside her lay another, the lilac-coloured tabby of the Junkyard Gang.

"No matter where we come from, death comes for us all the same," Nightchaser said quietly as the camp filled with grieving cats.

That night, the vigil was much larger. The trainees, in a show of solidarity, sat vigil around their fallen mentor, along with Condor, Bronco, Roxanne, and Beaver. The former gang said their silent goodbyes to Pixie opposite them. Yet, even in grief, there remained a tension in the air that Dewpaw could not explain.

After two straight nights of sitting vigil, Dewpaw fell into a deep sleep the third night. Surrounded by blackness, he remembered nothing of his dreams.

The morning after dawned cold but bright. The wind had picked up overnight and the bare branches of trees clicked together in protest. The sun continued to shine, the snow blindingly white beneath its rays. Dewpaw fluffed up his fur, unwilling to leave his nest.

The trainees had the day off today. Roxanne, Jaystrike, and Beaver were running a training session for the gang cats and any rebels and alley cats who felt they needed to brush up on their fighting skills. Nearly everyone had left camp, except for Condor, who stood guard, and the medic's, who continued to bustle around their patients. Since the deaths of Birchfrost, Pixie, and Quartz, the others had slowly gotten better. Crowpaw, in confidence, had told Dewpaw that they were all nearly healthy, and that Mothpelt insisted they stay in the den only to keep an eye on them for a few extra days.

"How do you feel about some climbing practice?" Oats bounded up the moment Dewpaw decided to leave his warm nest.

"Are my claws going to fall off from the cold?" Dewpaw asked, yawning.

Oats seemed to consider this possibility before shaking his head confidently. "Once you get started I'm sure you won't even feel the cold. You're going to be working so hard you'll forget it's leafbare!"

Dewpaw wasn't so sure, but followed the cream tom out of the camp anyway.

They found themselves in the copse of trees beside the frozen lake where Dewpaw had caught his first piece of freshkill. The trees sparkled in the sunlight, their trunks sheathed by a thin layer of ice, and Dewpaw felt the urge to turn tail. Oats dragged him on.

"Might be a little cold at first until we wear the ice down, but it'll get easier as we go along," Oats said conversationally. "Here, I'll go first."

With one bound, he had leapt up a quarter of the way to the tree's lowest branch. His paws moved one over the other, back legs scrabbling at the ice underneath and trying to catch a hold. In a few heartbeats, Oats had reached the branch.

"Come up, the view's great!" he called down. Dewpaw gritted his fangs.

He attempted a leap, as Oats had done, but his forepaws didn't find a hold on the tree trunk and he slid back to the ground.

"Try again!" Oats said supportingly. Dewpaw shook out his fur, wet from the snow, and leaped again, this time closer to the tree. His nose collided with the icy bark but his forepaws found purchase.

"Now pull and push yourself up!" The grey tom did as told, using his good back leg to support his weight while his forepaws worked their way up. He had to go slow, having only one back leg to support himself with. His muscles screamed at the effort.

I have to be almost there now, he thought but, looking up, he saw he was just past the halfway point. His disappointment weighed him down and his paws lost their hold. He ended up in a heap on the ground.

"Halfway, that's not bad!" Oats said. "That's the best you've done so far."

"Still not good enough," Dewpaw muttered.

"Do you mind if I join in?" The two toms jumped at the voice and whirled around to see a pale shape emerge from the snowdrifts. Her fur was white, speckled with blue and cream.

"Lightpaw," Dewpaw greeted. "We didn't hear you coming."

She brightened at this considerably. "Really? I've been working on my stealth."

"Well, it's working!" Oats piped up. He looked positively awe-struck.

"My climbing's not that great though," Lightpaw continued. "Would you perhaps be willing to teach me too?"

The cream tom looked like he could hardly contain his excitement. "Of course! Watch me first." And he repeated his ascent of the tree, climbing up to the second branch this time.

"Very impressive," Lightpaw said. Then, turning to Dewpaw, asked, "Ready to go?"

Dewpaw scowled. "Whenever you are." She didn't seem to take offence.

She leaped onto the trunk, sliding down a ways before her claws found a hold. Her determined stare found her objective: the first branch of the tree. With a great huff, she lifted one forepaw over the other, pushing against the tree with her back legs. She went slowly, muscles straining beneath her dappled pelt. Paw over paw, she got all the way up to the limb.

And then promptly lost her footing and fell to the ground. She landed on all fours, facing Dewpaw, breathing hard.

"Your turn," she gasped. Dewpaw wondered if she had lost her footing on purpose. If she had, she was very good at faking.

He leaped, this time finding a claw-hold immediately. A "good job!" sounded from Oats above, but Dewpaw tuned it out, focussing on the task at hand. He moved slowly but purposefully, just as Lightpaw had, pushing with his back leg. His breath came out in large gasps, melting the ice covering the bark with its heat, but Dewpaw pressed on.

After what seemed like an entire day, he found himself level with the first branch. Carefully, he maneuvered his body, straining to reach the branch with a forepaw. His claws hooked into it and he slowly moved his other paw over. Now, all that had to be done was swinging his back paws over.

For a moment, he thought it had worked. Then, he felt like his shoulders would pop right out as he realized he was hanging by his forepaws from the branch. He struggled to lift the dead weight up but it was no use.

"Drop, Dewpaw!" Oats said, this time from below. Looking down, Dewpaw saw a dizzying drop.

"I can't!" he said. "I won't be able to land!"

"Land on your back leg!" Oats called back.

Dewpaw's claws slipped from the branch and he flailed in the air for a moment before coming to a crash on the snowdrifts below. The landing was not painless, despite the soft look of the snow.

"Did you break anything?" Oats asked, rushing over.

Besides the pain of hitting the ground with his whole body, Dewpaw felt fine. His back leg had broken his fall for the most part, and he never felt anything in that part of his body.

"Why don't we do some other training?" Lightpaw suggested.

"Like what?" Dewpaw snapped, suddenly tired and frustrated.

The she-cat looked taken aback. "I just thought I could give you some fighting tips, since you were kind enough to let me join your climbing practice."

Oats' eyes were shining. "Can we? Please?!"

Dewpaw knew he could return to camp on his own and leave the two to train. But did he really trust Lightpaw with one of his friends, alone?

"Sure," he said, quickly deciding on his answer. There was something about her – both her and Beetlepaw – that rubbed him the wrong way.

They walked a ways from the copse of trees, stopping at the usual training place. The trampled snow provided a sizeable training ground, and the steep slopes of snow around set the boundaries nicely.

"Why don't I watch you two first?" Lightpaw suggested. "I'll have a better idea of what to help you with."

Oats sprang into action immediately, shooting past the pale tortoiseshell and landing on Dewpaw's back. The cream tom was light and easy to throw off, but the attack caught Dewpaw off-guard. He stumbled sideways before righting himself.

The next time Oats jumped Dewpaw was ready. The cream tom was a good jumper and climber, and his speed in training nearly unparalleled, but he didn't have the strength Dewpaw did. The grey tom dodged out of the way, careful to keep his balance, and brought a heavy paw down on Oats' back as he landed.

Oats shook off the blow, lashing out with a paw. Dewpaw blocked it, slowly moving his way around the other trainee. He needed to focus on keeping his balance, otherwise he wouldn't stand a chance. Adrenaline coursed through him.

The cream tom, tired of exchanging blows, suddenly leapt into the air, soaring over Dewpaw. The grey tom cursed internally, knowing that if he tried to follow Oats' movements he would likely end up in a heap. Instead, he waited for the telltale thud of the trainee hitting the ground.

The moment he heard it, he whipped around, his deformed leg swinging out behind him. The second thud told him Oats was on the ground. He purred smugly; it was not the first time the move had served him well in training.

"Alright, I think I have a few pointers," Lightpaw said.

Dewpaw whirled around, taking out Oats' legs from under him once more. He'd forgotten she was there.

She stifled a purr and approached the cream tom first. Oats puffed his chest out, ready for her assessment.

"You're really fast, and you're probably one of the best jumpers I've seen," she began. "You're also relatively small, which works to your advantage. But, you're not really using this to help you. You stayed battling Dewpaw face-to-face for far too long. He's stronger than you – look at the wideness of his shoulders compared to your own. That same difference makes him slower than you."

Oats looked over at Dewpaw contemplatively and the grey tom, suddenly self-conscious, looked away.

"Use your jumps and dodges more often. Skirt around your enemy. Duck in to swipe at their flank and then jump over them to hit them on the other side. They'll tire more quickly than you will, especially if you keep them guessing and trying to track your movements."

"So I shouldn't fight like most cats do?" Oats said, cocking his head in confusion.

Lightpaw purred. "Every cat fights differently. If this is what keeps you alive in battle, why wouldn't you use it?"

The cream tom's furrowed brow straightened and he twitched his whiskers happily.

The tortoiseshell turned to Dewpaw.

"As I already mentioned, you have rather wide shoulders. This is good for heavier blows and blocking frontal attacks. Your speed... Well, it needs some work."

"You try being fast when you only have three legs," Dewpaw muttered under his breath.

Lightpaw looked taken aback. "Oh no!" she said, flustered. "That's not what I meant at all! Your speed when it comes to delivering blows and blocking. A blow is no good if you hit your enemy with the wrong timing."

She sat down, putting her paws in front of her. "Right now, your blows are spaced too far apart, which gives your enemy time to recover. If you hit them in a certain rhythm," – she demonstrated by pummelling the ground with her forepaws – "you're more likely to tire them."

Dewpaw looked at the she-cat curiously. "Go on."

"But, you shouldn't stick to the same rhythm the whole time. Otherwise, they'll know what to look for. Throw in some surprise punches."

The grey trainee nodded. "That makes sense." His voice was flat.

She nodded, seemingly oblivious to his deadpanning. "Good strategy with using your back leg as a club, by the way. That one was timed perfectly."

Despite him distrust of her, Dewpaw felt himself fill with pride. "Thanks."

"You're so knowledgeable," Oats gushed as they wrapped up their impromptu training session. "You must be the best fighter out there."

Lightpaw purred nervously. "I wouldn't say that. Besides, I'm no good at sneaking up on others, which makes me a lousy scout and hunter."

Dewpaw thought back to the numerous conversations he'd listened in on in the past moons. Was it possible that, despite his deformed back leg, his stealth was one of his strengths?

"Would make you a lousy spy too," Oats said. "I've been practicing sneaking up on others and it's amazing what you'll hear if they don't know you're there!"

For a brief moment, Dewpaw thought he saw Lightpaw flinch. Above, the clouds shifted and the world around them darkened for a heartbeat before being filled with rays of light once more.

Just a trick of the light, he thought to himself. Already, Lightpaw was responding to Oats' banter. Still, that prick of doubt remained.