The trainees arrived in camp breathing hard from their run. The cold air stung Dewpaw's lungs as it rushed in and out but, for some reason, he had never felt more alive. He slid his gaze sideways at Lightpaw and Beetlepaw, who seemed more determined than ever to prove themselves. He hoped, with some anxiety, that his support of them wouldn't be the rebels' downfall.

His fur rose as he stepped into the camp and witnessed the scene before him. Sprucetail looked three times her usual size, her eyes filled with rage and her lip curled in a snarl. Before her, trembling, lay a dark tabby tom.

"We took you in," she snarled. "You fought me to get our acceptance and have us let you stay. You were an integral part of our camp, a hunter for when we needed feeding and a fighter when we needed more cats to help our trainees. And you repay us with this?"

The mewling sounds coming out of Killian were unlike anything Dewpaw had ever heard before. He had had his suspicions about the tom, especially after overhearing him speaking to Gannet, but seeing the tom reduced to a cowardly shivering mass still came as a surprise.

Across the camp, Gannet seemed just as confused. Cinderblossom's eyes were narrowed with a mixture of hurt and scorn, Beaver's tail resting across her shoulders to comfort her. Bronco watched the proceedings with a grim face; Nightchaser lay with his head on his paws, watching at the proceedings with mild curiosity.

"How long have you been spying on us?" Sprucetail hissed.

"I haven't been for at least two moons now, I swear," Killian mewled pitifully.

The she-cat whisked her tail angrily. "I didn't ask you how long you haven't been spying on us. I asked you how long you were."

"I came to you as a spy," Killian said quietly. "But I haven't been for moons now, I swear it!"

Dewpaw thought back to the night Killian first joined them, the night Dewpaw had been backed against a fence with a dog staring him straight in the eyes, waiting for its killing blow. Had Killian saved him only to win the rebels' trust? If not for Killian's mission, would that dog have killed Dewpaw?

And the stories Killian told him about his crippled littermate – had they been real? Or was his every interaction with the tom a lie?

Dewpaw remembered seeing the tabby at the border on his hunting trips, but never had he thought to question him about his motives. He had been too preoccupied with Killian getting closer than he was comfortable with to Cinderblossom.

And the last time he'd seen Killian at the border was the same day Nightchaser came into camp injured, not even a half moon prior...

"He's lying," Dewpaw said before he could stop himself.

The trainees looked at each other, having been the only ones to hear him.

"He's lying," Dewpaw said again, louder. This time, Sprucetail looked up.

"I saw him at the border while I was hunting on the same day Nightchaser killed Reedpaw," Dewpaw said.

"I was hunting." Killian's amber eyes bore into Dewpaw and the trainee's fur grew hot with the hatred in them.

"I saw him at the border only a moon ago too," Beaver said, stepping forward. "He looked to be biding his time, holding a mouse down by its tail and playing with it instead of killing it."

"I've seen him there too," Condor said.

"I, too," Indigo added.

Killian looked frightened once more as Sprucetail drew herself up again.

"I won't kill you," she assured him. "But you are never again welcome within our ranks. The lies you have fed us make you unworthy of our trust, and trust is what we need most now that uniting against DarkClan is imminent."

"So what are you going to do with me?" Killian spat, some of his old fire returning. He drew himself up too, tail lashing.

Sprucetail sprang, toppling him over, and brought her paw down, claws unsheathed, on his striped tail as he struggled to get away. "Go, and never return," she said coldly. "In fact, why don't you run and tell DarkClan that we're coming for them."

She let go of his tail and Killian hesitated only a moment before doing a quick sweep of the camp and breaking into a run.

The sky was beginning to darken, dark clouds rolling in over the camp.

"We need to move now," Sprucetail said, turning to Bronco. "If he isn't working for DarkClan anymore, which I highly doubt, then we'll have the element of surprise. If not he'll go running straight to them."

Bronco nodded, stepping up beside her.

"Alley cats, rebels, Junkyard Gang," he addressed everyone. "For moons we have lived alongside each other, trying to get by as DarkClan – the Marked – threatened our very existence. They mean to wipe us out, if given the chance, and we cannot live in fear any longer."

A vibrating energy had settled around Dewpaw at Bronco's words, an itching in his paws. Though his heart pounded in fear, he found it ebbing as the energy flowed through him from claws to tail.

"Tonight is the night we get rid of the Marked forever," Gannet said, stepping forward as well. "Tonight is the night we leave this life behind and build a new one."

    Into the circle stepped the small figure of Mothpelt. "The prophecy says DarkClan will be defeated on the darkest of nights. How can we be sure tonight is that night?"

    Both Bronco and Gannet wavered in their confidence, glancing between each other. As a unit they turned to Sprucetail for explanation.

    The she-cat, when she spoke, kept her eyes trained on Nightchaser. "We can't be sure. What I do know, though, is that Nightchaser has never been darker than he is now."

    The black tom lifted his head off of his paws slightly, eyes flashing. Dewpaw shivered, remembering the insanity that had lit them the day Nightchaser killed Reedpaw. If darkness could be described as an action, killing another would be a dark action indeed.

"Together," Sprucetail said, nodding to both Bronco and Gannet.

With a flick of their tails, they rounded up the entire camp, Dewpaw among them. The river of pelts swept through the camp entrance, up and over fences, through the skeletons of undergrowth and drifts of cold snow. The vibrating energy spread through them all, a thrumming chord to which their paws hit the frozen ground.

Dewpaw found himself beside Cinderblossom as he ran, all thought of his crippled back leg forgotten. He had to keep up, he had to be part of the downfall of DarkClan.

Yet, when Cinderblossom looked over at him with fear in her eyes, he wondered if he was ready to battle some of the strongest cats he had ever seen.

"I'm sorry," he said, panting slightly.

"Me too," she said, pressing closer. "I'm sorry you thought I was ashamed of you."

Dewpaw shook his head. "I've seen my father, I know he's not someone you would have wanted kits with." His eyes travelled further up, to where Beaver glanced back every so often at the two of them.

Cinderblossom sighed. "You're my kit too, and you always will be."

For a moment, Dewpaw felt the guilt of not having forgiven Cinderblossom sooner, of not having more time with her before the battle that now seemed much too close.

And, just like that, high stones appeared before them, looking ominous in the wintry half-light. Atop them stood the silhouettes of cats, more than Dewpaw could count before a weight hit his side.

He rolled out of the way and sprang back upright to see a grey tabby she-cat facing him, poised to pounce. Dewpaw would have moved to defend himself, had he not suddenly found himself frozen. Half of the she-cat's face was missing, as if she had been mauled by some sort of animal.

"What are you staring at?" she hissed.

She sprang and Dewpaw realized she would hit him if he didn't move. He dodged, catching her side as she sailed past. No sooner had her paws hit the ground than she was in the air again, turning in mid-air as she jumped over his head and dealt a blow to his ears.

Dewpaw felt fear rise in him. He had never seen that move, let alone so perfectly executed. Were all of the DarkClan cats this well-trained?

The next time she came at him, he used the one move he knew she hadn't seen before. With a swing of his back leg he took her legs out from underneath her. She fell in a heap and he raised his claws to deal a blow to her sides and back.

Another shape pushed him out of the way, taking the she-cat's blow for her. Dewpaw fell to the ground dazed.

"Rainpaw, are you alright?" he heard his attacker say. The she-cat gave a muffled response.

Dewpaw climbed to his paws and found a familiar grey tabby tom before him.

"I'm sorry," the tom said, as he had before, before his claws pierced into Dewpaw's shoulder. The trainee let out a screech and plunged forward, paws aimed at the tabby's chest.

"Stormpaw, cut it out!" A blur of cream, blue, and white toppled the DarkClan cat over.

"Lightpaw?" Stormpaw's eyes widened in surprise.

"We're fighting against DarkClan now," Lightpaw told him. "You told me I needed to get out, but we can't do that if DarkClan is still around. And I'm not leaving without taking you with me."

Stormpaw's looked between the two of them, surprise evident.

"Are you with us or against us?" Lightpaw said, voice calm even as shrieks and yowls rose into the air around them.

"I'm with you," the grey tabby said decidedly. "Rainpaw is too."

The pale tortoiseshell nodded her head before disappearing into the throng of cats.

Dewpaw didn't wait to see what Stormpaw would do. To his left were a couple of the former gang cats teaming up against DarkClan fighters twice their size; to his right alley cats spitting and hissing at their rivals. Up ahead, he saw Cinderblossom and Beaver battling a ginger tabby.

A high-pitched shriek rang out and Dewpaw directed his footsteps towards it, blocking out the rest of his surroundings. Through the fighting cats around him he could see a grey pelt, almost identical to his own, and, under it's owner's paws, a brown tabby and white she-cat.

"Dewpaw, help!" Robin screeched as their eyes met. Her voice became muffled as the grey DarkClan cat brought his paws down over her face.

Dewpaw's back leg felt much heavier as he struggled to reach the two fighting cats. He suddenly had an overwhelming need to save Robin, to get to her before all breath left her body. He realized he'd been avoiding her in the last moon, always afraid she would push him to speak to Cinderblossom – even though, now that he had, he wished he'd done it sooner. If he saved her, he knew he would spend moons apologizing for his actions.

He leapt, forepaws aimed at the grey tom's sides, but his back leg threatened to pull him back down to the earth. If he fell, Robin would surely be dead. So he pulled the weight of his back leg forward, hitting the DarkClan cat's body with the side of his own, and all of the dead weight he'd cursed for so long.

It wasn't a hard hit, but enough to make the tom stumble and release Robin from his claws. A gasp sounded from below but Dewpaw couldn't afford the distraction of making sure she was safe. He was now facing a very angry DarkClan cat much larger than himself.

"You're going to regret that," the tom snarled.

"I'm never going to regret saving a friend from my own father," Dewpaw snarled back, pouncing. He hit the DarkClan cat straight in the chest and rolled underneath him, keeping his claws unsheathed as he went. He felt them tear through fur and skin, though he wasn't sure what exactly he'd hit. As he pushed forward, he took the tom's back legs out from underneath him.

He got to his paws, feeling a surge of triumph.

It disappeared when he saw the tom's flashing claws driving forward straight into his own chest.

"A cripple is no son of mine."

And then all he saw was the black, black sky.