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Hemlockpaw and Bubblepaw immediately knew that something was wrong when Robinpaw finally stumbled back to camp. Their eyes held a mixture of guilt and relief at seeing him.

"Erm, how did it.. go?" Hemlockpaw meowed, his tone nervous. Robinpaw ignored him, his thoughts swirling. Even if he wanted to reply, he would find that he couldn't. The ghost - he tried to call her Lupine, even in his head since it made it seem less unknown and hidden.

Lupine had melted into the trees shortly after her last declaration to Robinpaw. He was curious about her. No, he was obsessed. A burning passion to find out who she was filled him and he slid out his claws to grip the ground as he pondered his next move.

"R-Robinpaw?" Bubblepaw stammered. "Why are you covered in blood?"

The snow lynx tomcat jerked his head towards her in surprise, finally coming to his senses. "I...." He craned his head back to look at his pelt. It was ruffled and covered in splashed of blood. "I must have tripped and not realized," he meowed nonchalantly, panic tightening his chest.

"You should get that checked out," Hemlockpaw advised warily.

"Shut up!" Robinpaw hissed, anger blossoming like a spring flower in his chest. "You're the one that got me into this you pebble-brain!" He turned around and stalked towards the apprentices' den, relishing in the satisfaction of having the last words.

He saw Dippernose rummaging around in the fresh-kill pile and felt a pang of guilt. He knew he should have paid attention when Dippernose was teaching him. What if he loses his mentorship because of you? a small voice in the back of Robinpaw's head murmured. He shook out his pelt, wincing as his wounds stung. He couldn't go to Quailstep and Magpiesnout - they would recognize the wounds as claw-marks.

He diverted his paws towards the outside of camp. As a cool breeze brushed the tips of his ears, Robinpaw breathed in the forest scents. He wandered around the path for a few minutes, looking for a stream to wash off in.

Murky green forest ponds covered in algae and moss passed by, countless, but no stream. He racked his brain for the direction of the stream. Everything seemed so sluggish and slow today.

Robinpaw let his paws lead him, and eventually his ears picked up the quiet gurgle of a creek. He pricked his ears, quickening his pace. The creek was slightly off a forest path, not far from camp. The water bubbled down in mini waterfalls, burbling merrily.

He dipped a paw into the water, shivering slightly as the coldness sunk in. He waded into the water, sucking in a breath as the cold water touched his short belly fur. He licked his pelt clean, eventually getting used to the chilly water. Stepping carefully onto the grassy bank of the creek, he shook out his pelt and moved into a bright patch of sunlight next to the creek.

It was time to plan. He wanted to know who Lupine was and what her backstory was. He lurked over the possibility of asking Slatestar, but decided against it. After all, he could be the killer.

Well, any cat could be the killer. Robinpaw felt the familiar sense of overwhelming frustration cloud his thoughts, but one more small thought chimed in his mind like a bird at dawn.

The seniors.

The thought intrigued him. There was only one, Ducksplash. The elder would have known every cat that came in and out of the Clan, possibly even have a time to go off on.

There used to be an older elder, Silvermouse, but she had died two moons ago from a spoiled squirrel. She was old and in pain, so the Clan liked to think it was an escape for her. The pain of the spoiled prey was too much for her in her last days, so the decision to feed her deathberries was made and she passed quickly after that.

"I'll talk to Ducksplash," Robinpaw told himself, finally deciding. Saying it out load made it seem more decided, and he liked closure. Time had passed easily, like water slipping between his paws, so it was a surprise to him when the shadows started lengthening and the sky turned to dusk.

His pelt was almost dry now, and he raced carelessly back to camp, hoping nobody was notice he was gone. He slowed his gait as he approached the camp entrance and slipped in. Dippernose was sitting near the fresh-kill pile, a pile of bones between him and Sprucewatcher.

"Has Ducksplash eaten already?" Robinpaw asked, angling his ears towards Dippernose. Dippernose shrugged and glanced towards Sprucewatcher.

"I don't believe so," the long-furred tomcat told him, his wide forest-green eyes planted curiously on the bengal apprentice. "That's kind of you, Robinpaw."

It clicked. The mildly surprised eyes, the tone. Anger roared through him and Robinpaw snapped his head towards Dippernose. The grey tomcat held his gaze with as much stubbornness, unflinching.

Robinpaw narrowed his eyes and reminded himself he had more pressing matters on his paws. He flicked his tail-tip once before nodding curtly to Sprucewatcher and hurrying towards the fresh-kill pile. Mouse was Ducksplash's favourite. It would make him talk. Giving him squirrel, on the other paw, would remind him of Silvermouse's death and make him shell up.

He picked out a plump mouse and fluffed up its tiny whiskers and ears. Once satisfied with it, he picked it up carefully in his jaws and made his way towards the seniors' den. It was a hollow in the ground with a short stubby tree stretching over the top and making a natural roof. Robinpaw readied himself. Because of a dare he would bring truth. This truth was needed, so Lupine could move on.

"Ducksplash?" Robinpaw called softly into the den. "I brought you a mouse." He waited at the den entrance as the blind tomcat sniffed the air.

"Ah, come in, Robinpaw." The calico tomcat rasped his welcome and shifted around slightly so that Robinpaw had space to sit. "That is not the only reason you are here, are you." It sounded more like a statement than a question.

Robinpaw nodded. "Um, yes," he added hastily, remembering that Ducksplash wouldn't be able to see him nod. "I need your help." He pushed the mouse towards the senior, and the old cat leaned forward and took a bite.

"I need to find out about a cat..."

Robinpaw sighed. This was harder than he thought.

"I need to find out about a cat that died in the forest. Apparently their bones were never found. I believe the name was something like Lily? Or Pine?" he bluffed, desperately hoping that Ducksplash wouldn't catch on.

"How do you know about Lupinefox?!" Ducksplash asked sharply, his blind eyes widening. "She died when you were still a kit."

"Lupinefox?" Robinpaw repeated, startled. How could Lupine give up such a name? "Well, I was about to become an apprentice," he meowed defensively. "I just need to know more about her. Tell me what you know." His tone become hard and clipped.

Ducksplash glared through blind eyes at Robinpaw for a moment before giving in, his face going slack. "All I know is that she joined as a loner and had an knack for finding out things. She was loyal and honest, as far as I could tell, but also with a slyness that was so slight you wouldn't notice at first. She wanted to bring EskerClan to glory. That's all I know. If you want to know more, you'd have to go and see the Ghosts."

"The Ghosts?!" Robinpaw asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes. They're a group of highly-trained assassins. Lupinefox was one of them before she joined. She joined because she said she didn't want to kill with no reason except for her client, and the warrior life suited her."

Robinpaw gaped at Ducksplash for a heartbeat before snapping his mouth close. The irony of it all made him want to laugh, but also scream. "Where can I find these.. Ghosts..?"

Ducksplash flicked a ginger and white ear. "You aren't telling me you're going to go after them?"

"Of course not," Robinpaw snapped. He was lying, and Ducksplash knew it.

"Oh, well it can't hurt to just tell you," Ducksplash muttered, a disbelieving expression on his face. "If you go right from camp, over the creek and across a stretch of monster paths, you'll find them in a broken down... what was the word.... hospital. Strange word." He heaved a long sigh and turned his head away from Robinpaw, quiet in contemplation.

Robinpaw took it as his cue to go, but just as he slipped out of the den, a whisper floated to his ears. "Be careful." He smiled, continuing on after a pause. I rather like Ducksplash.