"Robinpaw, step forward."

    From his place by Lightchaser's side beneath the branches of a pine, Shademask watched the brown tabby and white apprentice bound forward. Dewheart, who had been named a warrior only a moon prior, looked on proudly.

    Sprucestar jumped down from her perch on Fallen Tree to meet Robinpaw. She surveyed the Clan before continuing.

    "I, Sprucestar, leader of RockClan, call upon my Clan and my ancestors to witness this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her as a warrior in her turn."

    Then, in a softer voice, speaking directly to Robinpaw, "Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

    "I do." Shademask purred as the breath rushed out of Robinpaw, her tailtip twitching madly.

    Sprucestar, noticing her antsy-ness, purred too. "Before RockClan and StarClan, by the powers of our ancestors, I give you your warrior name. From this moment you will be known as Robinflight. We honour your eagerness and determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of RockClan."

    Robinflight touched her nose to Sprucestar's for the briefest of moments as the Clan chanted her warrior name. Tonight, Shademask knew she would sit guard at the mouth of the camp, as was tradition for new warriors.

    "Dewheart looks excited to finally have Robinflight in the same den again," Lightchaser commented, nodding to where the two young warriors were now sharing freshkill.

    "Antpaw looks like being the only apprentice is a punishment," Shademask replied, flicking his tail at the small black tom. Oakshade, Antpaw's mentor, had stopped beside him to give some sort of instructions. The apprentice rolled his eyes the moment the deputy walked away.

    "He did have a rough upbringing in DarkClan," Lightchaser said quietly.

    Shademask twitched his whiskers. "So did many of us."

    The gathered Clan had settled around the edges of the camp, hiding in the shade where they could. The hot greenleaf sun beat down on the rock ravine that made up their home, as it had for over a moon already. Only Sprucestar remained in the centre of camp, watching her Clan from atop the Fallen Tree – a giant oak that had fallen into the ravine and now served as the leader's den and speaking place.

    When RockClan had first arrived in their new home, some four moons prior, the rock floor of the ravine had been littered with debris. Shademask's paws smarted at the memory of shifting boulders and logs. The Clan had also given Lionmask a proper burial, whose body they had found lying broken on the rocks.

    "Care to share some freshkill?" Shademask looked up to see Stormfall approaching with his mate, Rainheart. They both carried starlings in their jaws.

    "I would love some," Lightchaser said, shifting closer to Shademask to make room in the shade for the newcomers. The black tom felt the warmth of her body acutely and stifled a purr; to think he'd waited until last moon to ask her to be his mate.

    "Caught these myself," said Rainheart proudly. She shifted her weight as she sat down, mindful of her round, protruding belly.

    "I'm surprised Mothpelt hasn't confined you to the nursery yet," Stormfall teased, twining his tail into hers.

    "Soon," Rainheart sighed. Her single eye caught Shademask's and the black tom swallowed the bite of freshkill he'd taken before looking away. A pang of guilt hit him as he remembered how helpless he'd felt watching Dawnstar maul the apprentice, and how he had done nothing to help. Now, Rainheart would only ever see her future kits through one eye, and the other half of her face would remain a scarred mess.

    To avoid making eye contact again, he looked out across the camp. Mothpelt sat with Cinderblossom and Beavertail near the medicine den, a cave hollowed out from the rock and sheltered by a curtain of ivy. Dewheart and Robinflight shared a mouse nearby, sitting on the pile of boulders outside of the nursery. Oakshade and Thistleshade were keeping the single elder, Rowanstorm, company near his log den; Minkfur and Antpaw kept to themselves, as they usually did, tucked into a shaded area beneath a bramble bush.

    "It'll be nice to have some new blood," Lightchaser said. "They'll be the first cats in RockClan to have known a time without DarkClan."

    Rainheart's expression soured momentarily before clearing to her usual friendly demeanour. "And we'll keep it that way. I don't want my kits even hearing stories about the terrible things DarkClan did."

    "You don't even want them to know our history?" Lightchaser asked blankly.

    The grey queen's gaze hardened again and Shademask tensed beside his mate, putting a protective tail over her shoulders. Stormfall, always the pacifist, rose to his paws.

    "We'll decide on what to do when the time is right," Stormfall said. "If our kits never hear of DarkClan, then we'll count ourselves lucky that that part of our lives is finally over." He nuzzled Rainheart, who brightened up again. Lightchaser, however, remained tense.

    "I've been thinking of some possible names," the grey she-cat began.

    Shademask, taking the last bite of the sparrow, rose to his paws. "Perhaps we should leave you two to discussing that, then?" He looked expectantly at the pale tortoiseshell beside him. "What do you think Lightchaser? Care for a small hunting trip?"

    "Sure," the she-cat replied, voice distant. Shademask knew immediately something was bothering her. He waved his tail in farewell to the others and they set off up the Fallen Tree to the top of the ravine.

    Lightchaser was quiet the entire way to the MoorClan border and Shademask didn't press. The rippling sound of the stream filled the silence between them, the honking calls of a flock of geese reverberating through the sweltering air. Shademask dipped his head to the river, lapping up the cold water in an effort to cool himself in the unbeatable heat.

    "How can she just pretend like that?" Lightchaser suddenly burst out. The tom looked up to see her gazing across the river at the circle of high stones where DarkClan had once made their camp. That same place now provided a sacred ground for Gatherings of all the Clans every full moon.

    "I don't think she's pretending, love," he said gently. "She just wants her its to grow up without the fear of DarkClan."

    "There's a difference between the fear of DarkClan and not knowing the history that led us here," Lightchaser said angrily. "To not even explain the horrors of your own kithood, or how your leader took half of your face from you? To not even tell your own kits how their father's father died to save them from a life of fear?"

    The tortoiseshell was shaking with anger and Shademask approached her slowly. His tail slowly twined into hers, gently letting her know he was there for her.

    A giant sob racked her body, her chest and shoulders shivering with grief. "Spiderthorn died for us. He died for all of us."

    The tom nodded. "And we know that. But it's not up to us whether or not Stormfall and Rainheart's kits do."

    The she-cat gave no reply, staring sorrowfully into the depths of the river.

    "The only thing I can promise you is that our own kits, whenever we have them, will know of the sacrifice Spiderthorn made for them, and of the horrors they will never have to face because of it."

    He pressed his nose to her cheek and when he pulled away her hazel eyes were shining. His breath caught in his throat; even after four blissful moons together he sometimes forgot how beautiful she was, and just how much it had hurt to see her leave for an assessment she might never return from.

    "What do you say we actually get some hunting done?" he asked softly.

    She tucked her head into his chest for a couple of heartbeats, beats that Shademask was painfully aware of. Once, he'd wondered how many heartbeats he had left of this life before Dawnstar took it from him. Now, he could only hope those heartbeats didn't stop until his life had run its full course.

    "Come on, first one to the Lizard Stones gets to pick freshkill tomorrow," Lightchaser said with a twitch of her whiskers. She was off in a flurry of cream, blue, and white, the setting sun casting streaks of fire across the grass beneath her paws.

    Shademask stared after her for a moment, not caring about the stakes. If he got to spend beautiful days by the river watching the sun set with a she-cat he hoped to never lose, he would give up all rights to picking freshkill. Now that DarkClan was gone, this was a life he hoped he would never lose.

// I can already tell I'm going to love writing from Shademask's POV a lot. I hope you enjoy reading it just as much!