"Well, no stopping it now." said Swiftspring, grimly, as the squadron of warriors retreated back into the forest. Blood dripped from the she-cat's mouth, coloring the once pristine sands a solemn red, and the silver warrior swung back towards her own territory with a dismissive flick of the tail.

Leapingbranch did not respond, her chest rising and falling with the nausea that came long after the battle had finished. She could still taste blood in her mouth, blood that wasn't hers, and it sickened her. Even worse was the wail of the golden she-cat- that was locked in her mind now- and the savage crunch of flesh and bone that had ended her life. Leapingbranch was certain that the moment would never leave her, and that this cat, whoever she was, might haunt her forever... she looked to her brother to steady him, but for once, Cranewing was calmer than her.

The tom's short fur trembled in the wind, but his legs were still. He fell in behind Swiftspring and Leapingbranch followed. Behind them, the sun was high in the sky, but the light it provided was blotted out by a sea of angry clouds. Only the thinnest beams of sunlight gave evidence of its presence.

"Cranewing." Leapingbranch hissed beneath her breath.

"We did what had to be done." Cranewing said before she'd so much as asked the question.

Leapingbranch did not argue. Seeing him like this frightened her, though she wasn't proud to admit it. Instead, the two warriors stepped together through the woods back to camp, and all along Leapingbranch watched the forest for something familiar to hold onto. She found comfort in seeing the log where she'd held vigil, long ago as that warm greenleaf night now seemed. She bumped her brother. "Look up."

Cranewing asked, "At what? Is there someone there?"

"Never mind," Leapingbranch said.

When they returned to camp, it was late enough that the patrols were already settling back in, though not so late that the red eye of the sun had not disappeared behind the distant horizon. Its glow was diluted by the rows of trees, thick and almost barren of leaves, and overhead the sky had moved from the dim blue of the cloudy day to a thick azure no longer marred by any cover whatsoever.

The elders were sharing tongues, and while Leapingbranch had no desire to be groomed like a kit, she could at least offer her assistance with their ticks. It was an apprentice duty, certainly beneath her, but greater than her care for her position was her respect for the wise old cats, especially the one who had trained her for so long.

Stars knew she needed him tonight.

Piketooth was slumped against the cluster of logs at the edge of camp, which were the remains of some old trees that had been thrown apart by Twolegs before the cats came to the river. According to the elders, they were once scorched in places, but the burnt parts had long since been rubbed off. It was a fine place to rest, even all those years later, and the older cats took comfort in sitting beside something even older than they were.

Leapingbranch, with the bile held high upon a moss-covered stick, began treating them, one by one. The elders purred in gratitude, while Graymane purred about Leapingbranch's steady grip and superior coverage.

"Apprentices don't check us half the way you do. They're skittish. Absolutely awful." he told her. "I know there's one towards my paw. It's been biting me for moons, see, there on my back leg..."

"That's a cramp, not a tick, you lousy old badger." Windsong fired back.

"I know what a tick feels like. It's on my leg, isn't it?"

Leapingbranch looked over his leg to humor him, but she couldn't find a tick on there. It might have been the only stretch of the tom's shaggy form that was free of the insuffrable pests. Piketooth watched her from the corner, grooming himself, and the bought the half-dry bile over to him.

"Go put that down. I can groom myself just fine." Piketooth purred.

Leapingbranch gave him a pleading look.

"Put it down." Piketooth repeated.

Leapingbranch reluctantly turned away from the group and returned the bile to Bluepetal, who was sitting silently in the corner of her den. She still bore scars from her encounter with the RyeClan patrol, and while her physical recovery had been smooth, the white she-cat had not moved or spoken much since the incident. Her first words after awakening had been to ask for Birchpaw and Harvestmask, and she would not listen to the warriors' attempts to explain why this would not be possible.

Leapingbranch dropped the stick and bile in an empty divot in the ground, murmured, "Thank you," and stepped away. She returned to the cluster of elders and sat down beside her mentor. "It was really no trouble, you know."

"Eh? Well, as I said, I'll groom my own pelt. Now, enough about this old bag of bones. Tell me about your battle." Piketooth purred.

"I'm not dead," Leapingbranch said, enthusiastically.

"Ha! My apprentice? Of course not. In fact, there's not a scratch on you." Piketooth muttered, "Incredible. Not one of those rabbit-chasing buzzardbreaths could've harmed a hair on your pelt, eh? You must've fought like Talon's crew of old."

"I did," Leapingbranch told the elder warrior, "and it was awful."

Windsong nodded, empathetically, but Piketooth shook his head. The dark warrior scoffed, "You'll get over it sooner or later. Sometimes, the day they take someone you love. Sometimes before that."

Leapingbranch shivered in her fur. "What if we could prevent that before it happened?"

"Nonsense. See these?" Piketooth said, turning so that the white streaks that peppered his sides were fully visible. "You should know them, you've checked these white patches a thousand times over. This is where my mate used to lick my scars, bless her soul. As you can see, they've grown over with stardust. Her way of grooming me even beyond the deep waters of death. Life only lasts a little while, Leapingbranch, but the honor battle brings for you and your clanmates lasts forever."

Leapingbranch dipped her head. "I see. Thank you, Piketooth."

"No need. I was given the same speech after my first battle." Piketooth returned the gesture to his apprentice, whose tail pricked upwards at once, surprised.

"You?"

"Absolutely." Piketooth craned his neck upwards, newly risen moonlight glinting off his scars. "We'd best be getting to sleep, old timers. It's a beautiful night, but these old bones haven't the patience to enjoy it." He hoisted himself onto his paws, and Graymane and Windsong joined him. The two muttered hasty goodbyes to Leapingbranch as they passed, and together with Piketooth they lumbered across the den to the musty elder's den.

A ginger form approached behind her and the fur on Leapingbranch's back prickled with concern before the scent made it lie flat again. She breathed in warm wood and forest, with a trace of river water, and turned to see the massive Martentuft standing behind her. His expression was kind, but his eyes were colder than usual, watching the distant trees like they were about to jump to life. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Are you?" Leapingbranch responded.

"Yes. I was just... well, I heard about your battle." Martentuft said, concern brimming like water melted from his formerly glacial glare.

Leapingbranch tilted her head, pressing it against him. "I might have been a little scared, but it's over. There's no need to worry, anyways- Piketooth and I talked, and I feel much better now.

"Having concerns is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, Martentuft-"

Teeth gritted, Martentuft continued, "After all, the battle was unnecessary."

"What?"

"Unecessary. Waste of blood and life."

Leapingbranch took a step back, shaking her head. "We were attacked, Martentuft. Bluepetal hasn't even trained an apprentice and she almost died. Retribution isn't unecessary, it's critical to our very survival!"

"You too, then. Well, thatever you believe is right. I have to go... see you around." The last sentence was incredibly unconvincing, but before Leapingbranch could snap back, Martentuft had stalked off past the edge of camp.

Leapingbranch narrowed her eyes, but did not follow. His unprecedented fury wreathed through the air, as overbearing as his physical presence, and Leapingbranch left in the other direction to find a nice mouse to sit down with. Her brother was sitting with Creekrush... no...

the apprentices now were much too young for her...

The bush beside her began to rumble with noise, and Leapingbranch caught a flash of calico fur beneath the surface, followed by a hissed exclamation from the foliage.

"You can come out." Leapingbranch told the apprentice dryly.

Poppypaw fell out of the bushes, watching Leapingbranch with verdant green eyes. She straightened herself up, though she was still bouncing on her paws, and she said, "I saw you with Martentuft earlier. Are you two fighting?"

"Sort of." admitted Leapingbranch.

"You'll make up, right?"

"Naturally, we're clanmates. Why?"

"Because you two are in looooooove-" crooned Poppypaw.

"Poppypaw."

"Wait, are you in love?"

"Poppypaw."

"I think you're in love. But I thought he was with-" Poppypaw practically jumped a foot in the air, though Leapingbranch hadn't even responded, "Never mind! I didn't say anything. Nope!"

"Alright," Leapingbranch said. "Thank you for that incredibly suspicious display, then."

"Whatdya mean, suspicious?" Poppypaw said, eyes wide with feigned innocence. Leapingbranch, struggling to keep herself from slapping the apprentice across the face out of sheer frustration, bit her tongue. "Right. You look tired. I gotta go!" Poppypaw darted away, and Leapingbranch felt like a baited fish. The ripples had been drawn across the surface. It was up to her to find if she would find precious food or a cat's sharp claws waiting for her when she heeded their call.

That night, Leapingbranch waited in the den, feeling her heart beat rabbit-fast in her chest. The warriors of her clan settled around her, ignoring her still form. Her brother settled in halfway across the den, recognizable in sleep by his lanky limbs and arched back even in rest (must he always look so tense?) but Martentuft did not come back at all. Leapingbranch tasted bile at the back of her throat, her suspicions confirmed. When he left in the direction of the dirtplace, late at night, she waited long enough for his path to turn and curve back toward the river before springing after him, silent as the winds of the departing warmer seasons.

He paced the woods with a practiced gait, never pausing to reorient himself, and she found more difficulty in keeping up with him than she did disguising the noise of her step. Poppypaw joined him not long after, from the other direction, the green glint of her eyes exaggerated by moonlight so that she appeard almost manic. "Coast's clear."

"I'm not making her wait, am I?" Martentuft replied. The casual edge to his tone hurt like a slice across the face.

"You are," Poppypaw mewed, "but she'll get it. It's Jackaltooth, after all."

"Because you're such an expert on Jackaltooth." Martentuft said, prodding his apprentice affectionately. "Let's go." The two of them bounded down the slope together, and Leapingbranch followed, unsteady on her paws, soon as they were gone. She shook like a leaf in high wind, pain in her stomach and lying heavy on her shoulders, and already her former confidence was gone.

Oh, Martentuft...

When she at last reached them, down by the banks, Martentuft was wallowing through the river. Watching him sent shivers up Leapingbranch's spine, cold as ice, and he pulled himself out with his eyes stillon the trees. Sure enough, there was a cat on the other side of the banks. Martentuft greeted her affectionately, and the two touched noses. She was tawny-furred, with a distinctively darker point to her fur that shone in the moonlight, and her eyes gleamed with what could either be a distinct cunningness or vulpine malice.

"You're alone?" she asked.

"Almost. Poppypaw snuck out too." Martentuft said.

Poppypaw lept up and down on her paws, dashing towards the banks herself. "It was easy! Everyone in our clan must be blind and deaf- Martentuft lumbers about camp like an old badger."

Embarassed and furious, Leapingbranch could stand it no longer. She lept out of the bushes and yowled, "What in the stars' names is going on here?"

"Leapingbranch." Martentuft's voice was hollow.

Leapingbranch strode forwards, through the water and onto the other bank, her breath shaking with the weight of her sacriledge. Undeterred, she stared down the traitors, a furious glint in her eyes.

"Don't tell anyone." Martentuft pleaded. "It's not what it looks like- we're not- we're not mates-"

"Oh, I can see that much. Did you convince him you could end the war together? Martentuft, you silly furball." Leapingbranch's voice had a sharp edge to it, out of desperation and weariness both, and she stepped towards Martentuft.

He was still standing defensively in front of Jackaltooth, with a visibly upset Poppypaw jittering on the other bank, barely restraining herself from shouting or dashing about the clearing.

"Leapingbranch." Martentuft croaked, his voice hoarse. "Please."

"Please what? Did you think I would rat you out? Over jealousy? Martentuft, how petty do you think I am?" Leapingbranch asked. "I'm more upset that you never told me, when this is clearly far from your first meeting. You can trust me. We're-" Leapingbranch searched for the right word, but nothing fit in this odd in-between stage. She decided at last, "Friends."

"She's got you good, Martentuft." Jackaltooth said, nudging the large, dark tom aside.

"Why in the name of the stars would you bring an apprentice into this? Do you have a death wish?" she asked.

"Poppypaw found out on her own. She's resourceful for her age, along with being incredibly infuriating." Martentuft said.

"I am pretty incredible."

"You're right though. We do want to stop the war. Cats on both sides have lied, died, and abandoned all morality, and for what? A grudge? There's shady activity on both sides of the river. We're going to get to the bottom of it." Martentuft said, and his voice trembled with a sense of purpose and certainty Leapingbranch had never heard before. She found herself nodding, and she thought of the blood of the RyeClan cats on her paws.

"And then, when we've stopped the war, we'll go find my brother!" peeped Poppypaw.

"You could join us," Martentuft offered. "You're smart and resourceful. We could use that."

Leapingbranch looked to the three of them. Poppypaw was still bouncing, Jackaltooth was eying her with suspicion, but Martentuft was perfectly still. There was hope in those green eyes, just as familiar and kind as ever, so much that Leapingbranch thought it might break her. Piketooth and the elders raced through her mind, Bluepetal's crumpled body, and her twitching brother back in his nest. She could stop all of this, but they might never trust her again. Would she truly be a ShallowClan cat if she went along with this? "I don't think I can help you." admitted Leapingbranch. "The clan needs me. The clan needs you two, too, but I know I can't stop you from doing this. Just know the next cat who finds you won't be so kind."

Martentuft and Poppypaw exchanged a look, and Leapingbranch thought she could drown in the rush of nostalgia that flooded her. She had promised, she reminded herself. She had promised to defend her clan, at all costs, with her life.

She turned from the bank and walked past Poppypaw. The apprentice had stopped bouncing, and Martentuft, too, was deathly still. The two of them watched her disappear through the trees- she could feel their eyes on her pelt. The forest welcomed her back, rustling with sympathy, and she looked towards the stars. The celestial warriors twinkled pitilessly down on her, giving her no reassurance that she had done anything commendable, but ice grew in the pit of her stomach.

It would have to be enough.

(A/N: And we're back! Hopefully I'll be able to keep this update schedule up... well, indefinitely. It's nice to see you all again, though. Enjoy the chapter ^^
Question of the day: Favorite clan?)