Nightpaw awoke to the sound of thunder. He jumped out of his nest, fur bristling as another bolt of lightning split the sky. The tom hissed under his breath; one moment, he had been on the moors and, the next, he was back in reality.

    Shaking bits of moss out of his unruly fur, Nightpaw padded over to the apprentice den's entrance. Outside, chunks of ice the size of mice rained down onto DarkClan's camp, hitting the ground with enough force to send up small sprays of snow. The apprentice backed away slightly, afraid of nature's wrath.

    Is StarClan angry with us? he wondered, watching the hail thicken as the sky flashed once more. His claws unsheathed at the thought and the same murderous feeling he felt when pinned by Roxanne began to unfurl slowly.

    I'm doing all I can, why can't they see that? A red haze covered his eyes as the feeling grew, threatening to swallow him whole.

    "Nightpaw?"

    The voice brought him down to earth and he leapt to his paws. Heart pounding, he turned to see the grey forms of Cinderpaw and Mothpaw, nearly identical copies of each other save for size and eye colour.

    As his heart slowed and his emotions subsided, a new one surfaced: guilt. Seeing their worried eyes made him want to curl up in shame. He gave a sad twitch of his whiskers, realizing how distant he had become from the other apprentices.

    "Couldn't sleep?" Cinderpaw asked sympathetically as the two joined him by the den entrance. Her hazel eyes took in the wreckage of the camp but showed no alarm.

    "I'm surprised the den is holding up," Mothpaw said quietly, glancing up at the ceiling. The twigs and brambles were sagging, but the den seemed to be holding its own against the elements.

    Nightpaw nodded mutely. The exhaustion filling him felt familiar, a tired weary feeling that had become part of him over the last moon. The she-cats seemed to notice this and settled down beside him, pressing close to keep warm.

    The trio listened to the patter of hail as it continued to rain down. Mothpaw flinched periodically as a large piece hit the ground near the apprentice den, Cinderpaw wrapping her tail comfortingly around the younger she-cat.

    "You were tossing and turning earlier," Cinderpaw began. "Lashing your tail so hard you nearly took Wrenpaw's eye out." Mothpaw purred quietly at the image.

    Nightpaw shifted uncomfortably. "I guess I'll have to apologize to her in the morning."

    Cinderpaw remained silent, the ear closest to him twitching as more hail hit the ground. The sound was becoming unbearable to Nightpaw, the dull thuds resonating through the ground and shaking his whole being, one after another, unceasing. The guilt in his chest swirled with each impact, turning and churning until he felt he would be sick.

    "Are you alright?" Mothpaw asked, noticing his state.

    "No," Nightpaw replied, closing his eyes. "Nothing's alright. Everything's falling apart."

    Immediately, both she-cats turned to check if any other apprentices were awake before moving in closer, whispering assurances. The tom felt a lump in his throat and tried to swallow it down, but his voice quaked all the same when he continued.

    "I should have told you," he said, turning to Cinderpaw. "You asked and I just kept everything bottled up. And Mothpaw, as the healer's apprentice, I should have told you too."

    "Told us what?" his littermate pressed, glancing at Mothpaw uncertainly.

    "About the dreams," Nightpaw breathed, the lump easing slightly and his shoulders suddenly lighter. "About Sootstar and StarClan and the truth about DarkClan."

    They all remained silent for a long while. Finally, Mothpaw spoke.

    "I think we all know the truth about DarkClan," she said quietly.

    And, for some reason, it felt like nothing more needed to be said. Nightpaw twitched his whiskers in relief, thankful for the she-cats' warmth and understanding.

    Across the camp sat the lone figure of a black and white tom, strangely small and frail, blue eyes trained on the downpour of hail.

    //

    Nightpaw's training took a harsh turn in the following quarter moon. Night after night, the apprentice went to bed with his muscles aching from a day of training and hunting, ears ringing with the corrections hissed at him throughout. The days when he trained with Goosepelt were liveable; with Rowanstorm and Lionmask almost unbearable.

    "Not fast enough!" Rowanstorm spat as Nightpaw rolled out from underneath Bramblepaw. The younger tom's paws battered his sides and the truth-teller's apprentice hissed in frustration. They had been training since dawn and even this simple tactic continued to escape him.

    "You're doing well," Skunknose praised Bramblepaw and the tom bowed his head in thanks. The brown tabby, now larger than Nightpaw, appeared to be growing into the build of a fighter - big, burly shoulders and large, muscled legs.

    "Let's try that again with someone else," Rowanstorm said, eyes narrowed. He paused, surveying the remaining apprentices, all lined up neatly in a row. Finally, "Wrenpaw."

    Nightpaw felt a twinge of disappointment, having hoped Cinderpaw - the only apprentice willing to give him some slack - would be called up. Huffing his exhaustion, he stretched out his back before moving into a fighting stance.

    Wrenpaw's fluffed up fur and the fierce look in her eyes half scared and half amused the tom. Though she looked little, he knew she could still fight better than he could.

    She lunged at him without warning, stretching out a paw in a frontal blow. Caught off-guard, Nightpaw stumbled slightly as he dodged, finding his footing quickly and directing a jab in her direction. Turning, he found her gone.

    Realizing what her disappearance meant, he whipped around to see her leap into the air. His mind raced as he tried to remember a proper defence for her attack, but by the time he came to a conclusion her body fell towards his. Without thinking, he jumped up to meet her, bodies colliding in mid-air.

    They fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs, groaning from the impact.

    "Interesting tactic," Rowanstorm commented. "If you're looking to make a fool of yourself in battle, that is."

    Nightpaw felt his fur warm.

    "Let's take a break and hunt," Skunknose suggested. "Pair up: Shadepaw and Flamepaw, Bramblepaw and Cinderpaw, and Nightpaw and Wrenpaw. Try to catch three pieces between the two of you, but make sure to leave some for the deputy race candidates; it's their last day to show their skills. Meet back at camp at sunset."

    With a flick of his tail, the apprentices got to their paws. Shadepaw and Flamepaw took off in the direction of the old RockClan camp while Bramblepaw and Cinderpaw headed for the river. Nightpaw looked to Wrenpaw, opening his mouth to ask about her preferred hunting location, but received in reply a haughty look and disgruntled huff before the she-cat turned and disappeared into the forest. Confused, the tom followed.

    The she-cat was quick and he soon fell behind, following the trail she left as she bounded through the undergrowth. Her scent, a mixture of lavender and earth, lingered in the air and he found himself suddenly distracted. He hardly knew where he was anymore but he continued to follow the intoxicating scent.

    When it disappeared suddenly, he stopped, swivelling to look for its source.

    A body hit him from above and the breath rushed out of him. Rolling over to face his attacker, he found Wrenpaw's face a mouse-length from his, her whiskers twitching angrily.

    "Do you like making me look like a fool?!" she hissed. Nightpaw twitched an ear in reply, not knowing what to say to ease her anger. Apologizing for his lack of battle skills would get him nowhere; telling her he was sorry would do little to make her feel better.

    "Well, do you?" He shook his head vehemently, hoping she understood how much he meant it.

    "Then why didn't you tell me?!" she hissed.

    Nightpaw's mind clouded with confusion. "What do you mean?"

    "About what you told Mothpaw and Cinderpaw!" she whispered back forcefully, copper eyes fiery.

    "I thought we were talking about our battle training," he replied stupidly and she lashed her tail over his face. Nearly took my eye out... If not for how terrifying she seemed in that moment, Nightpaw might have twitched his whiskers in amusement.

    "Well?" She continued to hang over him, tapping the paw closest to his head impatiently.

    The tom swallowed. "We didn't realize you were awake."

    Wrenpaw's eyes narrowed further. "That doesn't excuse you from the question. Why didn't you tell me?"

    Why didn't I tell her? The answer, of course, lay in the danger of telling anyone anything about what he knew. Yet, with Cinderpaw and Mothpaw, the admission came much easier than now. Staring up at the indignant she-cat, Nightpaw suddenly remembered their last conversation. Well aware that there might be someone listening, he spoke carefully.

    "Remember what I told you last time we spoke?"

    She nodded, the fire in her eyes shifting to a softer light. Her sweet breath washed over him and Nightpaw's heartbeat quickened, her proximity making his fur warm. He blinked, trying to find the words to answer her question.

    "That's why."

    She fixed him with her stare, now hopeful and bright, as if waiting for him to say more. Staring back, Nightpaw wanted nothing more than to confide in her, to press closer to her and tell her everything that weighed him down. Something held him back.

    "We'll get caught," he whispered.

    "I don't care," she breathed.

    They stared at each other, copper against yellow, as if willing the other to change their mind. The ache in Nightpaw's chest grew the longer he looked at Wrenpaw - beautiful, fierce, loving Wrenpaw.

    Not caring if anyone saw, he closed his eyes and pressed his nose to hers, breathing in lavender and earth for the briefest of moments.

    "We need to get some hunting done," he said, pushing her off gently. She moved to protest, then nodded her head in agreement.

    "You mean I need to get some hunting done," she said, back to her usual energetic self. Nightpaw, offended for a heartbeat, reached out to aim a paw at her ear.

    Wrenpaw jumped away just in time, amusement lighting her eyes. "I'm teasing! Come on, I'll help you."

    The ache pulsed throughout him as he followed her into the forest.

    //

    He walked into camp with a mouse swinging from his jaws, its scent making his mouth water. Having caught it himself - with Wrenpaw's help - he intended to make it his meal. The she-cat caught a thrush and a mouse during their hunt, kills much cleaner than his own.

    The air in camp seemed to buzz with energy, everyone talking in hushed whispers. They sat along the High Rocks, leaving the centre of the camp clear. Atop the Speaking Rock, Dawnstar and Hailwatcher sat conversing, heads held high as they watched the Clan.

    "What's going on?" Nightpaw asked Flamepaw as he sat down beside him, taking a bite of his mouse.

    "You don't know?" Flamepaw replied, his voice deeper than Nightpaw remembered it. The ginger tom purred at his littermate's confusion. "Figures. The first battle of the deputy race is today."

    Nightpaw cursed inwardly, eyes darting to the empty space at the centre of High Rocks. In his enjoyment of hunting with Wrenpaw, he completely forgot about the ongoing deputy race. The idea that he would be forced to watch the deputy candidates fight each other made him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

    "Oakshade will win this round," Shadepaw said confidently.

    Flamepaw snorted. "Don't be stupid. Everyone knows Spiderthorn is the chosen one. I mean, he's the only guardian in the race, which already means he's stronger than the others, and Dawnstar herself chose to mate with him. It's rather clear who the favourite is."

    The ginger tom's eyes lit up as he spoke and Nightpaw, for the first time, wondered if Flamepaw knew that Spiderthorn was their father. As unlikely as it seemed, the conviction and pride with which the apprentice spoke made Nightpaw wonder.

    "I just want this to be over," Cinderpaw said, joining the circle with Mothpaw and Wrenpaw in tow. "The faster Marshclaw gets back to training me, the better."

    Nightpaw nodded distractedly, his eyes meeting Wrenpaw's. She twitched her whiskers at him and he looked away, flustered.

    "DarkClan!" Dawnstar called and the camp fell silent. She purred, wrapping her tail over her speckled paws. "The time has come to assess our deputy candidates in their hunting and fighting skills. Over the course of the past quarter moon, Sprucetail has brought in the most prey" - the Clan murmured appreciatively, but did not seem surprised by the outcome - "followed by Oakshade, Spiderthorn, Flintmask and Marshclaw in terms of contribution."

    Shadepaw looked at Flamepaw with a smug look on his face, but the ginger tom's narrowed eyes caused it to disappear quickly.

    "As for fighting," Dawnstar continued, pausing for effect. "Let's find out." She gave a curt nod, so quick Nightpaw almost missed it, and the camp suddenly erupted into yowls and screeches as five cats leaped into the centre. The black tom watched in apprehension, horrified to see that the candidates were permitted to use their claws and fangs.

    Clanmates purposely hurting Clanmates to win the post of deputy?! His eyes widened as Flintmask leaped past, fangs buried in Marshclaw's scruff. The candidates became a blur of fur, teeth and blood; unconsciously, Nightpaw shrank away from it.

    Above the turmoil, he suddenly caught sight of Hailwatcher sitting atop the Speaking Rock, head high. The truth-teller's eyes shifted from the fighting below to his apprentice, narrowing almost imperceptibly. Nightpaw swallowed, the spotted tom's harsh gaze unnerving him, and forced himself to turn back to the battle.

    Sprucetail yowled fiercely, landing on top of Marshclaw's patched back with a thud, clawing at the other she-cat's ears with unsheathed claws. Next to them, Oakshade tousled with both Spiderthorn and Flintmask, each warrior taking another's distraction with the other as a chance to land a new blow. Already, Flintmask's dark grey form shone with fresh scars and Oakshade's striped pelt did little to hide the new gashes. Only Spiderthorn seemed to be relatively unharmed.

    A shriek suddenly pierced through the clearing and the battling cats froze. Nightpaw, nearly jumping out of his fur at the sound, turned to its source: Cinderpaw. He followed her shocked gaze to see a bloodied body lying unmoving on the ground. Over it stood an equally shocked Sprucetail, her eyes only now losing the shine of bloodlust.

    "I..." the black she-cat began, but no words came out as she stared down at the body of Marshclaw. Her claws were still unsheathed, tortoiseshell fur caught between their bloodied points.

    "Marshclaw was too weak to be DarkClan's deputy," Hailwatcher said for her, directing the Clan's attention to him. "She came in last in hunting; evidently, she came in last when fighting. A deputy, or a warrior for that matter, who cannot fight or hunt adequately for their Clan is a waste of space."

    The words, meant to banish any guilt, did little for Sprucetail. When she lifted her stricken gaze and met Nightpaw's own, he knew, without a doubt, that she would be watched closely by the leader and truth-teller from now on. Her guilt at killing another only spelled weakness in their eyes.

    "Marshclaw's death leaves us with a mentor-less apprentice," Dawnstar said, taking over seamlessly. The Clan's eyes, as one, shifted to Cinderpaw, who shrank beneath their gazes.

    "Smoketalon," the pale tortoiseshell called, purring as the formidable tom stepped forward. "You have shown the Clan your dedication through the time you spend guarding our prisoners. Your battle skills are sharp and your values lie with DarkClan's; make sure you pass these on to Cinderpaw."

    The grey tom turned to his new apprentice and the look in the depths of his hazel eyes made Nightpaw's breath catch in his throat. It was more than just pride at being chosen as a mentor; it was greed, a lust so powerful it appeared almost predatory. When Cinderpaw got up to meet her new mentor, it took all of Nightpaw's strength to prevent himself from stopping her.

    "Rather eventful day," Wrenpaw commented quietly as the Clan got to their paws. Nightpaw tore his eyes away from his littermate, finding some relief in Wrenpaw's presence. She brushed her tail over his back discretely before moving off in search of her mentor.

    The feeling of being watched made his pelt bristle.

// You've made it through the longest (and, perhaps, most eventful, as Wrenpaw pointed out) chapter yet! I try to keep them between 1700 - 2400 words, but this one turned out a little longer than that. How do you like your chapter lengths?

I also just wanted to point out that this novel is at over 2k views now and that makes me SO incredibly happy. Thanks so much everyone for making this story a success and for sticking around for each and every update. You are my motivation and my reward and, honestly, if not for all of your amazing comments I probably wouldn't be updating every week.

Keep being awesome!