Jackaltooth always felt uneasiest about her long-ago decision to meet with Martentuft around the time the sun went down, when the world was bathed in fire and the river ran with blood. There were clouds on the horizon, thick with the crimson hues of the sun, but they were wispy things, hardly to be bothered with. There would be no rain tonight, nor come morning, and if the clans were fortunate they would have a few good days of hunting before the next miserable, cold downpour.

Here she was, worrying about her clan's future prospects as she strove to against their wishes and potentially their livelihood. The irony was bitter on her tongue, but she thought, But I am preparing for our future. The war that binds both sides of the river is more dangerous than any storm. It is the purple-hued, gargantuan cloud that threatens to choke the land of sun and fry the river with its white bolts of lightning.

This thought helped her pick up her step, and she strode on with her head a little higher. One day, the clans might thank her. She might even be known alongside her brother, future leader of their clan, and her descendants would cheer their names.

She pushed this aside when she reached the Bend, feeling foolish for how proud she was behaving, and knelt beside the river for a drink. The water was cold on her tongue and tasted like starlight, and indeed above the stars cast down their pinpricks of light on the river. Their ancestors walked the surface of the water- Jackaltooth could hear them purr in the last of the cricket hums.

The moment was still, so breathtaking, that it was hard to discern how long it had actually been when Martentuft crossed the waters, his thick fur and bulky paws rippling through the water and making the stars quake.

"You're late," Jackaltooth said. It had been two meetings since the half-moon venture, and though they had decided to meet frequently since it was clear from Martentuft's vacant expression and downcast gaze that his previous concerns had not been assauged.

"I've got an apprentice now. The days are much longer and much, much harder." he admitted, "Sometimes I settle into my den and fall asleep before I can remind myself of our meeting."

"An apprentice? So soon?" asked Jackaltooth, impressed.

"Yes, from Harvestmask's litter- they were newleaf kits." Martentuft nodded.

"So your clan is out of kits. Must be nice, if relatively sparse underpaw."

"Not quite. Swanfeather just had hers. She spent so long out of the nursery, too... proud she-cat." Martentuft purred.

"Oh, some of our warriors don't go in until they're practically kitting." Jackaltooth admitted. "Your mother hunted all the way up until a half moon before her time, being the overachiever that she was."
"Sounds dangerous."
"Not as dangerous as trying to herd Laurelbranch into the nursery. She's sure she can do everything she was capable of in peak condition, and to make matters worse, her mate is one of the most insufferable, snappy, aggravating cats to ever grace the face of this river, and this is coming from someone who lives in RyeClan, the land of the short and short tempered. It's so much easier when they end up mating rogues, like Fallingfeather did..."

"Your she-cats have kits with rogues?" asked

"Oh, I'm sure it's not just them. For how militant the warriors are about rogue impurity, they sure are eager to fall in love with them... I guess it's in part for the fresh blood, generally, but there's also a lack of clan identity. It's an issue that demands action, and still Owlstar turns a blind eye."

"So it's accepted. Yet to have kits with a ShallowClan warrior, even a clanborn one, would be the greatest of shames." Martentuft said, his mew tense with anger. "Deserving of death for the queen and kit both."

"We're not at war with the rogues." Jackaltooth said, staring up into the sad eyes of the giant ginger tom. His sorrow swept through her, making them both solemn, and she thought of the days they could have spent in their rightful homeland, together. If not for the war, Martentuft would've grown up with his half-siblings and a loving mother... instead, he had been passed across the river to avoid punishment for a crime he did not commit, a crime that should not have been a crime at all.

"Could've fooled me." Martentuft snapped, and the message was all too clear: there was more than one kind of evil in their world, more than one wellspring of blood.

"Well, we do get snappy when they trespass, I suppose." Jackaltooth said, her tongue flicking in her mouth with nervous energy. She looked for a change in conversation, and after glancing across the river, responded, "I guarantee your queens have taken rogue mates before, too. There is no way your clan is pure-blooded all the way back to Shallowstar. There simply aren't enough cats."

Oh, that won't do it at all. The she-cat bristled even after saying it, knowing she'd immediately made everything so much worse.

Martentuft showed no signs of visible malice, and after a moment of deliberation, replied, "We've taken in the former rogue Mackerelfang, and Bluepetal was a kittypet- I've mentioned them both. As for rogue mating, though, the only cat I'm certain took no mate in this clan would be Harvestmask..."

"My mom what?" peeped a tiny voice from across the river. Martentuft's fur stood on end, making him look even more like a pine tree than usual. Jackaltooth's hackles rose, and her heartbeat with it. She had nightmares where the likes of this happened, but never had she imagined they'd be caught by little more than a kit. However, as the tiny shape perked through the brush and stood, inquisitive, on the other bank, it appeared they'd truly been bamboozled.

"Poppypaw! I... erm, stay back. I caught this she-cat about to cross the river and attack our clan," Martentuft said, swiping at Jackaltooth half-heartedly. The tawny cat fell to the ground at once, writhing as if in great pain. She made a show of stretching her legs into the cold sand, which didn't feel half bad, and she let out a high, strained wail of mock pain. Martentuft placed a paw atop her body and declared, "See, she's... she's a real threat to all of us, Poppypaw. You should've seen me earlier. I used all the techniques I've taught you..."

"He is an incredibly gifted fighter and mentor," admitted Jackaltooth, "Woe on the cat who fights him and his fearsome apprentice." Martentuft shook his head, signalling that this might be overkill, and Jackaltooth wisely shut her mouth.

The calico apprentice tilted her tiny head. "If she was going to invade our territory, why are you on her side of the river?"

Martentuft, seemingly without explanation, opened his mouth and closed it again. He dipped his head to his apprentice, and said, "I don't imagine you'd mind telling us how much of that conversation you overheard, Poppypaw."

"I heard what you said about the rogues, and my mom, and each other." Poppypaw said, stepping forwards. Her tail was puffed up, but her ears fell back in fear, and there was no malice in her expression, merely curiosity. Martentuft removed his paw from Jackaltooth's side. "You're not fighting at all, are you?"

"No, Poppypaw. Jackaltooth is my dearest friend." Martentuft admitted, and though Jackaltooth's ears grew warm at the praise, her heart dropped at the statement.

"Is this wise, Martentuft? Kits have quick tongues." she warned, trying to up the edge of her mew, but Martentuft's expression was calm, unstirred by fear or any other emotion.

"I'm not a kit," Poppypaw snapped, "I'm an apprentice warrior of ShallowClan, the best clan there is! An' I thought Leapingbranch was your best friend. She's going to be so upset when I tell her..."

Jackaltooth bared her teeth, "Kit!" but Martentuft had already jumped into the river, scattering water across the near bank.

Poppypaw took several pawsteps backwards, but her mentor grabbed her by the scruff just as quickly. "I was joking!" Poppypaw said. "Martentuft, I came here... because I wanted to talk to you! I didn't mean to out you and your, your meetings. Please don't throw me into the river!"

Martentuft set her down, and the apprentice trembled like a newborn bird before him, her fur slick with the water that had run off Martentuft's enormous coat. "I understand, Poppypaw, but Jackaltooth and I could be killed if anyone found out what we've been doing together. Do you know who my parents are?"
"You got found as a kit," Poppypaw said, but her voice was weak with confusion and shock.

"No, my parents were a RyeClan she-cat and a ShallowClan tom. My father was thrown to his death at the Battle of the Bluff, and my mother was drowned for her crimes, unbeknownst to her own clan. Jackaltooth and I want to create a world where what happened to me can never happen to anyone, ever again. Do you understand?"
"But we have peace now," Poppypaw reasoned.

"Do we really? If anything, anything at all was to go wrong, the fragile peace would break apart. Already, RyeClan cats are rallying over the mere trace of ShallowClan scent on their territory. If either clan was provoked into action, the other would follow, and then we would all be fighting again before the first sunrise over the horizon."

"But- but if you could bring peace to both clans, and make them hate each other less- you'd be legends." Poppypaw said, breathless.

"Or a kit could blab to her leader that we're meeting by the Bend after the half moon. Then we'd be dead." Jackaltooth mused.

Martentuft shot her a glare, and Jackaltooth turned. Regardless of the kit's intentions, she could smell the winds of change on the air, and they smelled of carrion and stormclouds. "After the next half moon. If you show up at all- if you're around to show up."

"I have something to talk to you about, Martentuft." insisted Poppypaw, and Martentuft nodded, first to her and then to Jackaltooth, across the Bend.

Jackaltooth's fur spiked as she disappeared into the brush. The brush subsided around her as she burst onto the open fields, with gold stalks braised silver by moonlight by her flanks and the moon herself overhead, guiding her league of starry warriors. The half-full crescent glared down at Jackaltooth, a furious eye. The she-cat felt a prickle up her back, and her practical mind broke away from her, finally dissolved in her lack of sleep.

"This isn't the end," she gloated to the moon. "We got caught. So what? Martentuft can control a mere apprentice. I trust him."

Trust him, echoed the fields, the wind rustling the stalks until they convulsed, trying to break free of their mortal bonds.

Jackaltooth unsheathed her claws to slice the grass, but regained her composure at once, feeling foolish. Who was this stranger, trying to cut down grass like an enemy warrior? She shook her head to the side, trying to empty her mind of ridiculous thoughts, and padded on back to camp.

The clearing, desolate in its lack of foliage, was not empty that night. A ginger warrior, Blazefury himself, stood in the center of camp, watching the moon with his nose quivering.

"You're up late." snarked Jackaltooth.

"It's a bad night to be awake." Blazefury admitted. "If I could sleep, I would, but the stars have no love for me."

"I'm sure my brother loves you enough for both him and the cosmos combined. He'll be getting cold, won't he, all alone in that den?"

"I see your brother all day," Blazefury sighed.

No need to remind me- everyone in the clan knows. You two haven't exactly been quiet about it. Jackaltooth yawned, "Good for you," then retreated back into the warrior den.

Blazefury remained in the clearing, watching her go like a kit gazing after the warriors as they slunk out of camp. Jackaltooth curled around herself, overcome by warmth and the gaping hole in the wake of her adrenaline, and still there was an insistent cold on her back. Someone was watching her.

It could have been Blazefury, or it could have been the moon.

Somewhere in the dead of night, Magnoliaheart was laughing at her.