The camp, despite its increased population, stood eerily quiet. Every corner hosted a different group: the east fence the alley cats, who watched the ongoings with interest; the west fence the remaining junkyard cats, who seemed both relieved and uncomfortable at once; and in the shade of the Tumble-Down Den the rebels, who shifted with unease and dread.

    For, in the centre of the camp, stood three defiant figures: Jet, Queenie, and Fang, a rather large black and white tom who had been second-in-command to the junkyard leader and his littermate. The three of them, scarred up from fighting to get away for most of the night, did not resist their executioners: Nightchaser, Condor, and Killian. Not far off, Bronco watched the proceedings with dismay, Roxanne shaking her head at his side.

    "Don't do this!" The cry came not from the assembled junkyard cats but from the depths of the Tumble-Down Den, where Olive and Finch held Cinderblossom down to keep her from rushing the executioners. The she-cat had been arguing with Nightchaser all night, trying to change his mind, but nothing she said had moved him.

    "These three cats have refused to join our ranks, to unite the alleys and junkyards of this Twolegplace," Nightchaser announced. "For this, they will be killed – "

    "She's pregnant with kits, Nightchaser!" came Cinderblossom's screech, quickly followed by scuffling and strained silence.

    "Killed," Nightchaser repeated, "to prevent future uprisings or ideas of rebellion."

    Dewpaw blinked against the harsh dawn sunlight. Most of the junkyard cats had opted to join this camp by sundown the previous night. The others, thanks to Cinderblossom's pleading with Nightchaser, had been given time until dawn to make up their minds. Truthfully, he was not surprised that neither Jet nor Queenie had agreed. He was, however, wary of Gannet's decision to stay, as well as Chrome's, who had wanted to kill Dewpaw when he initially wandered into gang territory.

    The three executioner's readied themselves – Nightchaser next to Jet, Condor over Queenie, and Killian beside Fang. Dewpaw saw the most imperceptible of nods from Nightchaser and their claws flashed at the ready.

    "I hope DarkClan kills all of you," Jet hissed, just loud enough for the entire camp to hear. Nightchaser's face twisted into rage.

    Claws fell and Dewpaw blinked furiously, willing himself to keep his eyes open. He would not appear too weak to watch the execution of the cats who held him hostage.

    "Stop this immediately."

    Too late, Fang fell to the ground, blood gurgling from his throat as the life left his eyes. Killian jumped away, claws bloodied, as a black shape barrelled into first Condor, then Nightchaser. Jet and Queenie looked surprised but remained where they were.

    "What are you doing?" Nightchaser growled, turning on the newly arrived cat.

    "I could ask the same of you," Sprucetail replied, tail lashing angrily. The dawn light made her dark fur gleam and illuminated the three long scars on her shoulder.

    Dewpaw shifted as the two black cats circled each other, moving slightly away from the spectacle. All around him, others leaned forward to take in Sprucetail's challenge of Nightchaser's leadership.

    "You know just as well as I do that if we let them go they will go straight to DarkClan," Nightchaser hissed back, yellow eyes like fire as he followed each and every one of Sprucetail's movements.

    "Then let them," she said. "What do you think DarkClan will do to them? If they are still the same bloodthirsty honour-less cats that I remember – the ones you should remember too – then they will not spare them. They will execute them just as you are doing now, except in a way that forces the entire Clan to participate in their bloodbath to weed out the weak among them."

    Even from Dewpaw's position by the walls of the Tumble-Down Den, he could see Nightchaser's white-rimmed eyes narrowing. Yet, the tom had paused in his circling.

    Sprucetail, too, stopped. She lifted herself up to her full height, holding her head high. "Tell me I'm wrong," she hissed.

    Dewpaw had never seen Nightchaser bend before another cat. To his utter amazement, the black tom gave a small nod, keeping his ears back and tail low in a show of submission. Sprucetail nodded back, turning to Jet and Queenie.

    "Get out of our sights," Sprucetail hissed. "And know that DarkClan will not spare you, or your kits, if you go to them." Looking dazed, the two cats took one last look around the camp before bolting over the fence.

    Next, the imperious she-cat turned to the remaining junkyard cats, who cowered before her. "Anyone else who chose to comply because they were too cowardly to face death: leave before Nightchaser changes his mind."

    The junkyard cats looked at each other, as if gauging the truth of Sprucetail's words. The first to move was Chrome, followed closely by a blue-grey tabby. Of the remaining three toms and three she-cats only Gannet met Sprucetail's gaze.

    "Welcome to Tumble-Down Den," Sprucetail said. "Let's find you some freshkill." The junkyard cats brightened up significantly, particularly Flea, the small bug-ridden she-cat.

    But Sprucetail was not done yet. She now approached Nightchaser, Condor, Killian, and Bronco, who stood over Fang's dead body.

    "Condor and Killian, you will dig a grave for this cat by sundown," she instructed. Though she stood only to Condor's shoulder, the tom nodded without complaint.

    "I want the junkyard cats to feel welcome," she announced to the rest of the assembled cats. "After everyone has been fed, hunting and border patrols will resume as normal. Training will take place today, with our new additions in attendance to gauge where their skills lie. Does anyone have any questions?"

    Not a breeze stirred as everyone in the camp watched Sprucetail wide-eyed. Dewpaw felt himself shivering, though the day itself had not dawned as cool as those prior.

    The she-cat nodded before turning to Nightchaser and Bronco, who suddenly seemed like two guilty kits standing before their chastising mother.

    "I'm losing my patience with the way you two fight for leadership. Figure it out and don't ever make me clean up your mess like that again."

    From dawn until dusk, the camp ran as smoothly as it ever had.

    //

    In the quarter moon following Dewpaw did his best to return to some semblance of normalcy. He woke every morning at dawn in his nest next to the other trainees, give his fur a quite lick, trained and hunted with the others, ate freshkill, and returned to that same nest every night. Each day dragged on and on, unchanging.

    The only cats he talked to were Crowpaw and Killian, both of whom expressed concern over his being held hostage by the Junkyard Gang. The first day, Crowpaw looked Dewpaw over, pawing at his fur gently, as if looking for injuries. Assured that Dewpaw didn't look any worse for wear, Crowpaw said nothing more of Dewpaw's disappearance.

    Killian, however, asked many questions. Having had a run-in with the Junkyard Gang himself, the tabby was wary of the remaining cats and Dewpaw often caught him shooting murderous glances in Gannet's direction. It came as a shock to the tabby when Dewpaw told him of Gannet's interference in his would-have-been execution but the information didn't change Killian's views of the tom. He steered clear of the group but seemed curious, just as everyone else was.

    The Junkyard Gang kept to themselves. Both Bronco and Sprucetail approached them initially, offering to let them join patrols and training, but Cobalt, a dark blue-grey tom who appeared to be the oldest of the group, as well as the self-appointed leader, denied their offers. They would hunt for themselves, and Bronco agreed to the request. Nevertheless, the alley cats and rebels kept a close eye on their new neighbours.

    Nightchaser's agitation grew night and day, to the extent that everyone aside from Cinderblossom and Sprucetail avoided him. Then refusal of the Junkyard Gang to join training, at least in Dewpaw's mind, had frustrated the already off-balance tom. Dewpaw himself avoided any contact with Nightchaser, as well as both Cinderblossom and Mothpelt.

    Following the skirmish he'd caught Mothpelt gazing at him sadly. Unable to take the pity in her eyes Dewpaw refused to acknowledge her. Cinderblossom he avoided because of the words that continued to echo in his head. Besides, if Cinderblossom found it so hard to be a mother to him then perhaps he could alleviate her of the responsibility by staying away from her.

    Yet the weight of those words weighed heavily. They repeated themselves over and over again in his mind. He gritted his fangs against them, unsheathed his claws, kinked his tail.

    He didn't realize how deep his claws had buried in the tree trunk before him until a familiar voice called his name. Shaking, he withdrew them.

    "Are you alright?" Robin stared at the claw marks with wide eyes.

    For the first time that day Dewpaw took in his surroundings. He was standing in a copse of trees not far from where he'd caught his first freshkill. Under the guise of a hunting patrol he had managed to slip away from camp when he caught Cinderblossom heading his way. Somewhere nearby Olive and Webpaw continued their search for prey.

    "Fine," he replied after a few moments. The bare branches above clicked against each other in the leaf bare wind.

    Robin did not look convinced but didn't press. "Have you caught anything?" she asked instead.

    Dewpaw shook his head. "Missed a mouse by a whisker-length."

    "That's too bad," Robin replied and, unlike most cats in the group, Dewpaw could tell her words were genuine. "I thought I heard a woodpecker somewhere in this direction but it must have been your claws in the wood." Her eyes returned to the scores, deep enough that Dewpaw's claws ached.

    "Just relieving some tension." The tom rose to his paws, careful to keep his balance, and headed into the forest. To his surprise, he heard Robin's soft pawsteps follow. The she-cat was quiet and an amazing hunter; Dewpaw's hunting skills would never match hers.

    "What did they do to you?"

    Dewpaw drew his ears back in confusion. "What do you mean?"

    "The Junkyard Gang." Robin sped up to match his speed. "You've been distant since you came back, even more so than usual."

    "I'm just focusing on my training."

    "No, you're not. Crowpaw beat you in battle training the other day."

    "He had extra practice while I was being held hostage."

    "No, he didn't. He spent most of his time looking for you against the orders of the mentors."

    Dewpaw twitched his whiskers in surprise. Crowpaw hadn't told him that.

    "There's something on your mind distracting you," Robin continued. "Maybe if you talk to someone it will help get it off your mind."

    Dewpaw stopped and rounded on the she-cat. "And who exactly should I talk to?" His words more harsh than he'd meant them.

    Robin did not back down. "Well, I'm right here. But if not me, then perhaps Crowpaw. He cares about you a lot."

    The grey tom narrowed his eyes at the suggestion. His thoughts were his own burden to bear.

    "There's nothing on my mind." And he disappeared into the bushes, determined to catch some prey to prove it.

    //

    Olive returned to camp with a blackbird; Webpaw with a mouse; Robin with the woodpecker she thought she'd heard. Dewpaw dragged himself in, exhausted from a fruitless day of hunting. He avoided Robin's pointed stare and crawled into his nest. The busyness of the camp did not prevent him from falling into a deep sleep.

    When he woke again the stars were out, barely visible through the heavy snow clouds high above. Beside him, Crowpaw snored and Crisp and Oats slept in a tangle of limbs. Carefully, Crowpaw extracted himself from his nest.

    Soren and Leo sat guard at the edge of camp. Not wanting to disturb them, Dewpaw headed for the bushes at the edge of Tumble-Down Den.

    He had made it only a couple of foxlengths when he heard hushed voices.

    "We have to do something." A fretful voice full of fear. "He's going to kill himself if we don't."

    "We're doing our best, Cinderblossom," another voice assured. "But taking DarkClan down while the trainees are not yet fully trained will only result in casualties on our side. We aren't ready. Nightchaser knows that and you know he wouldn't risk losing so many in a battle again."

    Again? Dewpaw shifted slightly, enough to afford him a view of the speaking cats.

    Cinderblossom and Sprucetail sat in the shadows of Tumble-Down Den. Next to them, Mothpelt, Mira, and Lily sat listening. Quartz and Roxanne were nodding their heads in agreement with Sprucetail's words.

    "It will be a while before all of the trainees are ready. But you must remember that casualties will always come as a result of battle." Quartz looked grim.

    "No herbs in the world can heal some wounds," Lily agreed.

    "Or bring the lost back from the dead," Mira added sadly. Lily wrapped her tail around the older she-cat's shoulders.

    "You mean the father of your kits?" Mothpelt asked after a moment. The alley she-cats looked at the medic incredulously.

    "Forgive me, I know it's a sensitive subject. It's just that Crisp and Oats... Seeing Crisp throw herself after her littermate during the battle..." Mothpelt turned her eyes to Cinderblossom and Sprucetail.

    "That's how Lionmask saved Nightchaser, allegedly," Sprucetail finished for her.

    Cinderblossom shifted her paws uncomfortably. "The father of your kits... He wasn't a Clan cat, was he?"

    Mira gave the most imperceptible of nods.

    "He was going to come back to you," Mothpelt breathed. "He confided in me once he was sure I was a rebel as well. Told me he knew of a place we could go if the rebellion failed. He meant here." She looked around Tumble-Down Den as if seeing it anew.

    "Lionmask was a great warrior," Sprucetail said, bowing her head in remembrance. "I'm sorry he didn't make it out."

    Mira shot to her paws. "One more thing to thank Nightchaser for," she said bitterly. The she-cats, and Dewpaw with his prying eyes, watched her disappear into the night.

    "It's always been a sensitive subject for her," Lily said quietly. "She told me about him once, when they first met. I assumed the kits were his."

    "All those scouting missions," Sprucetail said, a note of amusement in her voice, "he wasn't scouting at all. He was visiting Mira. He really had Dawnstar wrapped around his tail, didn't he?"

    Quiet purrs of amusement floated into the night, fading quickly.

    "This Dawnstar," Roxanne began, "is she really as terrible as you say she is?"

    "Worse," Cinderblossom said with a shiver. "If I could I would never go back there."

    The alley she-cats exchanged looks. "Then why go at all?" Lily asked quietly. "Why not stay here?"

    This time, the rebel she-cats looked at each other, as if deciding whether to divulge precious information.

    "Mothpelt is visited in her dreams by our ancestors," Sprucetail said hesitantly. "It is part of being a healer that you receive messages from StarClan who, up until a couple of moons before the rebellion, had been silent."

    "In my dreams I am visited by Sootstar and Finchwatcher, the leader and medicine cat of MoorClan at the time of Heatherfur's rebellion," Mothpelt explained. "They were the two cats who guided Nightchaser at the time of our own rebellion, but we timed it poorly and failed."

    Dewpaw could feel his eyes growing wider the longer he listened. The names coming out of Mothpelt's mouth meant nothing to him, yet the gathered she-cats all seemed to know what they meant. He looked up at the stars, narrowing his eyes in search of cats high above.

    "DarkClan will fall on the darkest of nights, that's what the prophecy says," Mothpelt continued. "And, after that, the three Clans of old will be restored. SeaClan on the cliffs, RockClan in the forest, and MoorClan in the fields, sharing High Stones as their meeting place of peace every moon and Moonwaters as their meeting place with StarClan."

    The icy leaf bare wind whistled through the trees, the only sound for a long time. Dewpaw shifted, paws growing cold and cramped.

    "Do you think peace is possible?" The question seemed to come from all of them.

    "I don't know," Mothpelt admitted.

    "But, if it is, wouldn't you want to try?" Sprucetail said.

// I'm once again sorry for my extended absence. Lots of things going on - I was in the hospital for a while and couldn't get down to writing for a while after that - but I won't bore you with that. Point is, I've finally finished this chapter and, while I can't promise scheduled updates, I can promise you sporadic ones. Happy to be back!