As it turned out, Dawnstar could not read Lightpaw's mind.

Five sunrises later, however, as the tortoiseshell apprentice cleaned out yet another den she could still not wrap her head around the real reason why she had been pulled into the DarkClan leader's den, or why it warranted her imprisonment within the camp walls. Her lip curled at the thought.

Dawnstar believed Lightpaw had been stealing extra prey from the freshkill pile. There was only one cat who would make up such an outrageous lie to get her into trouble.

I'd rather actually be suspected of treason than forced to remain in camp because of Beetlepaw's pettiness, Lightpaw thought as she clawed savagely at the damp nest before her. Ribbons of moss flew right and left, raining down on her head. Her fangs clenched and she had to remind herself to breathe.

A few deep breaths later she felt ready to continue her work. Grabbing a mouthful of the moss, she padded outside.

"Watch it!"

The apprentice halted abruptly, unable to see where she was going. Putting the moss down, she found herself face to face with Shademask, his expression rather cross.

"Sorry," she mumbled, aware of the bits of moss between her teeth. The usually silent tom kept his eyes narrowed but flicked his tail all the same.

"Take on smaller loads," he suggested, already walking away. "You're stuck in camp whether you like it or not."

Lightpaw narrowed her eyes at the tom's back. It wasn't her fault Spiderthorn appointed him to keep watch over her punishment. Like her, Shademask was stuck in camp for another two sunsets. At least he could sit around and do nothing.

Refusing to heed his advice, she picked up the entire load of moss once more, depositing it on the edge of the camp. Duskwhisker and Skunknose, on guard duty from sunhigh until sunset, sat with their fur fluffed up against the chill in the air. Away from the shelter of the tall rocks that surrounded the camp, the leafbare wind grew bitingly cold.

"Yewpaw just brought in some fresh moss," Duskwhisker mewed, pointing with her tail at a grey-green lump near her paws.

Yewpaw was the unlucky apprentice appointed to supply Lightpaw with the materials to carry out her punishment. For the past five days, the other apprentices were drilled on their battle technique and the loser of each session would be made to forage for moss or feathers or whatever else Lightpaw needed that day. Today was Yewpaw's fourth day; Rainpaw had lost once too.

"He's quick, that one," Skunknose commented. "And a good hunter."

"Good fighters are what we need," Duskwhisker replied, eyes on the grey sky up above. Lightpaw payed little mind to their words, gathering up the moss in one giant ball and heading back to the den she was cleaning.

She arrived at the log den without incident, despite the limited visibility caused by the moss in front of her. Though she didn't understand the point of cleaning out a den nobody used, she didn't dare complain. Seven days of being cooped up in camp was enough for her.

Still, the empty den aroused her curiosity. Who had slept here before it fell into disuse? Was it kept as a reminder of someone who had passed on?

The only thing she knew about this particular hollow log was that Spiderthorn sometimes spent his nights sitting atop it, gazing out in the direction of the Twolegplace.

Patting the last pawful of moss into place, the she-cat stepped back to admire her work. Perfect. She was almost tempted to spend the night here herself.

But she had one more den to clean, and that was the one beneath the Speaking Rock. She wrinkled her nose, already dreading Dawnstar's piercing stare watching her every move.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to her work. Only two more sunsets...

Rainpaw flicked her ear happily at her as she passed, a shrew in her jaws. Lightpaw knew she would be sharing it with Stormpaw. She also wondered if anyone else noticed how close the two apprentices had become in a matter of moons, and whether their relationship would withstand DarkClan's pairing system. If she were brave enough, she might even ask Dawnstar to put the two together.

Just the thought of entering the DarkClan leader's den made her fur rise, let alone asking her to secure her littermate's happiness. Did Dawnstar even care about Stormpaw's – or anyone's – happiness?

Lightpaw clenched her fangs and padded towards the den entrance. She could hear voices, but they grew softer the closer she got. Curious, she slid just past the lip of the den.

"They're on the move," a she-cat said. "Crossing to an abandoned den further into the Twolegplace."

"It will make it harder for them to spy," a tom added. "They will have to travel further to gather information about us, while we can continue to pick off stragglers."

A pause. Lightpaw held her breath, terrified of being heard. She didn't understand the specifics of their conversation but knew for certain that it did not bode well for DarkClan's enemies.

"We will continue with our raids." Dawnstar's voice, steady and cold, was easily recognizable. "Take anyone who has some sort of information on the rebels' whereabouts and tactics. Then, we can look into planting an inside source."

The two cats who had been reporting to the leader hastily muttered their approval and Lightpaw heard a shuffling of paws. In horror, she realized she would be caught should she remain where she stood; she couldn't erase her scent either. The only way to go was forward.

"Lightpaw." A confused-looking Shadowpelt looked down at her.

The pale apprentice nodded her head in greeting, heart pounding. "Is Dawnstar alone? I've come to clean our her den." The words, though true, felt muddy on her tongue.

"She is now," Newtfang said as he padded past. He did not look the least bit suspicious and Lightpaw felt herself relax.

"Sorry I nearly walked right into you," she said to Shadowpelt, as if she had arrived at the exact moment the two were leaving. The black she-cat accepted her apology with a nod and went on her way.

Lightpaw's hazel eyes blazed with triumph as she entered the den. Dawnstar payed her no mind, seemingly lost in thought.

When she finally noticed the apprentice, who had managed to take out the old moss and replace it with the fresh one supplied by Yewpaw, she looked nothing like the Dawnstar Lightpaw had come to know. She looked nothing short of exhausted.

"What are you looking at?"

The tortoiseshell apprentice flinched, avoiding the amber glare. Sometimes, she forgot that Dawnstar was Beetlepaw's mother – and her own, too.

//

The wind rushed past her whiskers as she jumped, keeping her body tight as she sailed over her opponent. She hit the ground and twisted without a heartbeat to lose. Swipe left, dodge right, quick jab to the chest. Beneath the determined look in her opponent's eyes she could see the beginnings of exhaustion.

The tom in front of her reared up and the she-cat bounced back, letting him crash down onto the hard-packed earth. With an almost dainty flick of her paw, she hit the side of his head. Then, she was on top of him, using her weight to keep him down.

"Alright, that's enough Lightpaw," Flamestrike called from the side of the Training Hollow. The tortoiseshell purred, letting Yewpaw up.

"I can never keep up with you," the golden tom managed to get out between heavy breaths.

"Not many can," the pale apprentice replied, puffing out her chest.

"Showoff," she heard Beetlepaw mutter from the sidelines. Today, Lightpaw didn't care. It was her first day back to training after seven days spent in camp and she was very happy to find she was still better than the others. Even Rowanstorm, normally critical, looked impressed.

"Yewpaw, you need to work on your speed and dodging," Shadowpelt said. "Duskwhisker, take note." The dark tom nodded respectfully to his former mentor.

"His strategizing also needs work," Rowanstorm continued. "Speed, technique, strength – those mean nothing if you cannot use them properly." His dark green eyes scanned the apprentices one by one, as if engraining his words in their minds.

Lightpaw took the dark tom very seriously. The number of apprentices he had trained for DarkClan held proof of his experience and the many scars lining his fur even more so. Glancing around at the others, however, she was surprised to see their varied states of neglect. Stormpaw and Rainpaw were making faces at each other; Yewpaw looked dejected; Beetlepaw yawned, stretching her long body.

"We'll head back to camp now," Shadowpelt continued. "Dawnstar wanted the Clan gathered at sunset."

Lightpaw glanced up at the bare tree branches to find them against a background of ochre. Veins of lavender and pink broke the leafbare sky, pointing to the west where the sun had disappeared.

"You did well today," Flamestrike commented as he slid into step beside his apprentice. Lightpaw beamed up at him, pleased that he was noticing her progress.

"I'm surprised I did, considering I've been stuck in camp," she replied.

The ginger tom nodded, sidling closer. "For the record, I know you didn't steal prey. But, if you had tried, I think you would have gotten caught."

Though the tortoiseshell felt pleased that her mentor believed her innocent, she couldn't help but ask, "Why would I get caught?"

Flamestrike twitched his whiskers, but his tone remained serious. "Your battle skills may be sharp, but your stealth still needs a lot of work before your assessment."

Mood slightly dampened, Lightpaw nodded. If she wasn't perfect yet, she would work her hardest towards it.

Flamestrike moved up ahead to walk with Duskwhisker and Shadowpelt. The she-cat found herself walking alongside Rowanstorm and she felt her fur prick at the honour.

"You're the first apprentice in a long time to use such calculation when you fight," he said. Lightpaw looked up at the dark tabby, but found him looking straight ahead. His eyes were glassy and he looked lost in thought.

"I was still a very young warrior the first time I saw someone fight like that," the dark tabby continued. "I must admit I was jealous. I wished I could fight like that. It was impressive, that one so young knew to rely on careful, quick planning rather than strength and speed alone."

Lightpaw purred her agreement. "I'd like to see someone fight like that one day."

Rowanstorm turned his green eyes to her. "You and your father are very much alike. Perhaps one day, you will."

The tortoiseshell she-cat felt her jaw drop slightly. They arrived at camp much too quickly, leaving her no chance to ask all of the questions gathered at the tip of her tongue. She had never seen Spiderthorn fight, so she had no idea what his fighting style entailed. The moment she spotted him slinking towards the Speaking Rock, she wanted to bound over and demand he show her his combat skills.

She held herself back, noticing Dawnstar's agitated posture. The she-cat looked more unsettled than usual and the blaze of her amber eyes sent a chill through Lightpaw. Quietly, she took a place in the circle of DarkClan cats waiting in the camp clearing.

"What are we waiting for?" Rainpaw asked as she settled beside her, Stormpaw on her other side.

Lightpaw shook her head. She didn't know, but from the tension in the air she knew it couldn't be anything enjoyable.

"DarkClan," Dawnstar began, directing their attention to her. "Since the rebellion we have changed our customs to better strengthen us as a Clan. Our pairings span many season cycles, to ensure multiple litters of strong kits. Our kits are not taken care of by our weakest but by our strong queens. Once apprentices, they are trained in higher skills to enable us to grow.

"While all of these changes have proven beneficial, there is one that I believe has left us weaker. We train, and we patrol our territory, and we sometimes chase intruders off – but do we ever really fight? The kind that leaves the taste of blood in your mouth and matted fur between your claws? Why have we become so placid? Why do we not use our skills when we can?

"Today, we will once again prove the strength of DarkClan. Bring the prisoner in!"

Every head turned in the direction of the camp entrance, through which Newtfang and Smoketalon entered with a small dappled she-cat in tow. The pale tortoiseshell had a long scratch along her back and another on the side of her head; her paws looked raw from where she had wrenched a claw, undoubtedly from digging into the dirt as they dragged her.

Lightpaw's breath caught as the two toms threw the she-cat into the centre of the ring. She twisted and turned, eyes wide as she surveyed the twenty cats surrounding her.

"She was caught on our territory, near the Twolegplace where the rebels disappeared," Dawnstar continued. "She claims not to know of their whereabouts. Let's see how willing she is to talk after a few more scratches."

"Please, I don't know anything!" the prisoner shrieked, but her cry only grew into a wail as Dawnstar slashed her claws over her face. Even from where Lightpaw sat, she could see big red drops hitting the ground.

"We know you Twolegplace cats have a network," Dawnstar hissed. "You pass on information from one cat to the next."

"Please – "

Rowanstorm's blow hit her on the flank and her back legs collapsed with the blow. Smoketalon stepped up next, jaw twisted in a cruel smirk, and landed his own strike on her opposite flank.

"If there was any information it didn't make it to me!" The pale she-cat struggled to her paws, only to fall again as Shadowpelt's claws connected with her chest. Lightpaw wanted to look away from the terrible scene but something kept her watching. Across the circle, she saw Flamestrike and Spiderthorn, both straight-backed and unflinching.

The she-cat wheezed as she spoke again. "The last I heard, the alley cats were still sheltering Nightchaser and his group."

Lightpaw's eyes fell on the prisoner, her chest filled with even more dread than before.

"How dare you speak his name here!" Dawnstar shrieked. The tortoiseshell prisoner shuddered, backing away from the DarkClan leader's fury. Her back met with Newtfang and Shademask, who promptly shoved her forward again.

"I'm sorry, please, I don't know anything more!"

The she-cat's shrieks were lost as Dawnstar stepped onto her throat, cutting off her air. "Any cat who does not contribute to this prisoner's death will be considered a traitor." When she let the tortoiseshell go, the ring swarmed around her.

Beside Lightpaw, Rainpaw took a tentative step forward. Lightpaw remained where she was, eyes wider than ever as they took in the scene before her.

"Lightpaw?" the grey she-cat whispered. The tortoiseshell watched Beetlepaw slice at the prisoner's tail, then Flamestrike's blow to her side. Spiderthorn stood off to the side, waiting for openings which would allow him to strike at the prisoner. Even Reedpaw had joined the fray.

"Come," an older voice said. Lightpaw glanced up to see Thistleshade watching her with a wary expression.

When the she-cat did not move, the dark warrior moved closer. "You don't have a choice. Come, or be killed."

And Lightpaw went.

// I have good news and bad news.

The bad news is I will be away all of next week supervising a summer camp – and I will not have wifi. Which means no update Wednesday or Sunday. Updates will resume as per usual starting August 10th!

The good news is I've hit my 20k word goal for July's Camp NaNo! YAY!!!

Have a nice week, everyone! Get some sunshine while the weather's nice :)