"Your new mentor will be Lightcatcher." announced Owlstar before the meager crowd. Many of the warriors watched from afar, or only fleetingly. A few of Lemonshine's close friends and relatives had come to see this last remnant of her clan status disappear like fog on the morning air, but they, too, were a sad, humble party. Adderpaw almost suspected Owlstar had chosen the first unapprenticed cat she had seen in the lot. Lemonshine's brother, who himself appeared like a ghost of his departed sister, dragged himself to the fallen tree and touched noses with Adderpaw. The tom's nose was dry, even unpleasantly course, and he had the haze of fatigue about him.

The clan, or what of it had assembled at all, dispersed. Foxcatcher ducked in to offer patrol opportunities, Blazefury striding along behind him and parroting his mate's commands, but the two of them cleared a wide arc around Adderpaw and Lightcatcher.

"I'm terribly sorry but I can't train today. I need to check on my kits, get some prey for them, I need to... well..." The tom's eyes darted about for excuses. He looked Adderpaw in the eyes at last. "I can't do this."

"Me neither." Adderpaw admitted. "I'll be getting my assessment whenever they can handle it, with Gorsepaw and Saltpaw. You don't have to worry about me."

"Oh, no, no bother." Lightcatcher said. His curled ears, so much like his sister's, twitched with relief, and he started back off to find his mate, picking up into a sprint when he thought the apprentice could no longer see him. Adderpaw watched him enter the nursery, then stop and turn back. It was just as well, seeing as his mate had left the nursery almost two moons ago.

Seeing no point in standing around making a fool out of himself, Adderpaw slunk back around the tree to where the apprentices were gathering. It had not been long ago that his mentor perched here, making small talk with the other younger cats of the clan. He could find some of her downy fur on the branches if he scoured them long enough. Now, the only cats there were Wheatfrost, who was a sorry mess of gnarled fur and anger, and his brother Geckopaw. The two seemed to be in a verbal spitting match, although Wheatfrost did most of the spitting and Geckopaw meekly stared back. Adderpaw hid himself against the curve of the tree.

"You said we'd be hunting today," Geckopaw said, eyes wide and blank. "with Larkpaw."

"I said we'd be hunting tomorrow."
"You said that yesterday."

"I know what I said." Wheatfrost snapped. "You are not the warrior here. If you haven't noticed, this clan needs us to do what it needs us to do. We're going to the Bend."

"But I-"

Wheatfrost's claws slid out. Geckopaw shot them a quick look, and moved backwards a few paces. Adderpaw noted that the smaller tom's fur was torn in places, from 'brambles', and rage boiled inside his stomach. A braver cat than Adderpaw might jump. He longed to tear more than Wheatfrost's fur, but an old, vestigial obedience kept him from flying through the air and doling out justice.

Howlclaw, with her overaged, overtrained, though certainly not overeager apprentice, stepped in first. "Is there an issue here, Wheatfrost?"

"I don't think so. Is there an issue, shorty?"

Howlclaw spit, "There will be in a moment. Now get down to the Bend. If there's an issue, we'll escort you ourselves."

Gorsepaw looked to Adderpaw, catching his eyes from behind the log. His eyes widened a little, but he did not change expression. When he turned around with his mentor, who was exchanging petty insults with Howlclaw with none of her usual enthusiasm for doing so, Adderpaw thought he might have seen a flick of the younger tom's tail. He checked twice to ensure the camp was still, and followed them out.

He felt something sharp and almost salty at the tip of his tongue, like blood, and noticed that he had inadvertently punctured it with his teeth. It was one of the first times he had been out of camp without the blessing of a warrior, the first time if one discounted his ventures with Gorsepaw. There was no way the others had not seen him by now, but then again, that might be why Gorsepaw was speaking so loudly. "I adore Bend Duty," he said. "Say, isn't Runningstorm going to join us with Gingerpaw? Wonder where he is."

"Will Larkpaw come too?" peeped Geckopaw, watching a butterfly pass the assembled cats. Wheatfrost scowled.

"No, but maybe we can see her when we get back to camp!" Gorsepaw was yowling his head off at this point. "SAY, isn't that Gingerpaw and Runningstorm over there, approaching us from that patch of particularly nasty foliage?"

Adderpaw, not far from the particularly nasty foliage, threw himself into the bush. Runningstorm and Gingerpaw passed him by, only the latter of whom so much as raised his head to taste the air, and Adderpaw felt like a ghost.

"Morning, shorty." Runningstorm greeted Howlclaw, leaning down so that he almost reached her level.

Wheatfrost stared on, incredulous, his teeth gritted. Geckopaw was making calls to mimic the birds overhead, and Wheatfrost stepped on his paw to shut him up.

"Why don't we RUN to the Bend as a practice exercise?" suggested Gorsepaw.

"No running. Fast walking." said Runningstorm. "I just had two mice."

"Waste of prey." snorted Wheatfrost. "Not that you danged rogues would know or care."

"I'm so hurt right now, I could practically leap into that bramble bush." Runningstorm said. He gestured with a flick of his tail to the brambles where Adderpaw was hidden.

"Let's not." Gorsepaw said.

"Can't argue with that logic." Howlclaw said. "Let's go. Next cat to call me 'shorty' gets the honor of having their ears and tail rent from their body."

The swelling posse of cats began to depart to the thin tree line that marked the river, and Adderpaw waited until his heart had stopped pounding to pull himself from the bush. He looked back on it, his heart and backside stinging, and carried on.

The weather was poor that morning, and the surroundings looked all the worse for it. The fields of gold had paled to the sad color of Wheatfrost's pelt, knotted as his fur head become, but the current state of the undergrowth was representative of most RyeClan warriors. Evenings were filled with warriors dragging prey back to their nests to eat and discard food before falling asleep instead of grooming. Their collective hygiene was one of the more noticeable casualties of the war.

Adderpaw had once compulsively cleaned his fur. His first burrs were marks of declining health, but the next few were badges of pride. He had been working.

There's so much work to do.

He thought of Geckopaw up ahead, Falconpaw far behind, and crept towards the Bend. Halfway there, he caught a cry piercing the air, the curdled wail of a young cat, and ran faster. When he at last made it there, watching between trees, he saw five ShallowClan cats, dark-pelted warriors slippery as fish, exchanging blows in tandem for his own clan's. At their helm was a gray she-cat, eyes cool and focused despite the chaos of the battle. "This is for Bluepetal," she cried, knocking Runningstorm aside. The tabby kicked the she-cat into the river, where she fell against the rocks, but she rose, drenched in water, and her blood trailed her as she ascended back to land.

"Fall back, Creekrush," begged another gray tom, thin-legged but supply muscled.

"Don't doubt me, Cranewing. You doubt us all if you do."

Howlclaw tried in vain to keep up with the slippery warriors, trying to reach above her head, and the ShallowClan cats spat at her. A she-cat sliced at Geckopaw's neck, missing flesh by a heartbeat of precious fur.

A braver cat than Adderpaw would have dashed from the shadows at once, but Adderpaw let anxiety swallow him whole. The ghosts that once muttered at the back of his mind, compelled him to clean the nursery or tinker with the apprentice den, the ghosts that once kept him accountable for his siblings- and where had that left them- and Lemonshine- what had he lived for, anyways, shying up at the last moment, flinching from battle, how could he protect them now when he couldn't save her, save her, save her, save-

"I can't! She's dead! Gone! Dead!" Adderpaw yelled. "L-leave me alone!"

Cranewing looked to the trees. The tom, faster than any fish or bird, struck with the intent to kill and pinned him. Adderpaw felt like a piece of prey, held down in his last moments and forced to contend with the end of life, and all his muscles seemed to burst into movement at once. He thrashed, throwing the warrior off his right paw, and he unbalanced the tom with his freed limb. They seemed to move as if underwater, movements slowed, and yet they had to be going imperceivably fast. Adderpaw bucked the falling warrior's chest and hit the ribs. The tom cried out in distress and Adderpaw grabbed his neck. "Creekrush! Creekrush!" cried Cranewing, struggling with the smaller cat, but Adderpaw had a vice grip and a locked jaw. It would be comical if not for the fear in both of them, coursing through both their bloodstreams.

A braver cat wouldn't let him go. A real warrior wouldn't tremble, wouldn't flinch as they made the kill, but as soon as he'd made the resolution Creekrush hit him sideways. Adderpaw flailed out, blind, and Creekrush scrambled to get her paws on him. Adderpaw weaseled out from her grip, covered in blood from his mouth, where a tooth had been knocked out, and rushed back to the others. Creekrush was hot on his tail and Adderpaw ran again, adrenaline carrying his paws. Runningstorm knocked the gray warrior out of the way and Adderpaw bowled over a wiry she-cat.

He stared into the face of Lemonshine's killer.

This time, he did not hesitate. The two of them knew each other at once, engaged in the deadly dance, and she could not afford to see him as an apprentice. He was the avenging spirit of the third blood spilled, no wound she could inflict did more than infuriate him further, and he knew when his claws met chest that he could make this the fourth. She died in harsh spasms, eyes rolling upwards, and Adderpaw spit a tooth out of his mouth. The body tumbled into the river, down from the low banks where they'd fought, and he watched her with his eyes cold as the leafbare.

"Retreat!" yowled Cranewing. "ShallowClan, retreat!"

"What are you doing?!" asked Creekrush, fighting with Howlclaw. Her eyes were sharp with the gray sky's sparse light.

"We need to retreat or we'll die!" screamed Cranewing.

Creekrush looked over the scene, at the body floating in the river, and disentangled herself from Howlclaw, who could not race away as fast as the she-cat could. The remaining ShalllowClan cats cut a hasty retreat across the water.

The RyeClan cats, in sorry shape, watched Adderpaw, who turned to them. He felt no fear in him, and when the adrenaline subsided, it left nothing at all. "Someone will come back to avenge her," he said, watching the body. "May she drown twice, and may her sightless eyes watch the stars from the depths of the river."

The other cats meowed in agreement, but Adderpaw could taste their hesitation.

---

Owlstar gathered the clan at the fallen tree that night. "I know many of you believe that this war is unnecessary. That we have not been gratuitous to ShallowClan with our offers for peace, that Lemonshine's blood need not be complemented with more blood- or Roseglade, poor, poor Roseglade. It's hard to deny, now that we have scented more ShallowClan scent on the edge of our territory, that cats have not been snooping around. These cats, likely Roseglade's killers... I suppose some of you think we should live and let live. It's kind of you to make that choice for your clanmates. They can not make those decisions from under the water, but you, with the wisdom of all the stars, truly your judgement trumps that." Owlstar finished bitterly, and the clan erupted in yowls and hisses. Whoever this coward was who had no wish to fight, they refused to show their face.

"If you want to see what I expect of you all in the future, you must look no further than Adderpaw, who slew Swiftspring before sunhigh. Will he take anymore lives? One must hope not, but consider this instead: how many of our own cats has he saved? His brother? Gingerpaw, a young apprentice? Does ShallowClan aspire to murder these young, defenseless cats they fought this morning? If so, be warned, ShallowClan- we bite. As does he. Clanmates, I give you Adderbite of RyeClan!"

Adderbite rose from the crowd. He faced the whole clan this time, and no more anxiety filled him than when he had faced the half. If anything, he now felt at ease in the position. He lifted his head, bitter emptiness and moonlight washing him free of the blood on his paws. He had done enough.

"Adderbite! Adderbite! Adderbite!" The chorus of cats was more powerful than the tabby warrior had ever heard them. His family had not fallen to shambles, and now they would need him, more than ever, at the defense.

Every stray stick of the camp could put back in place, every furled coat made to lie flat. They could ride out the war if they were good and careful, and then things would be fixed. Adderbite lowered his head and fixed the clan with both eyes, like a snake preparing to strike.