He woke with his heart still pounding and the bitter taste of dread in his mouth. He was completely on his own. Without Sootstar's guidance he had felt lost; now, with the knowledge that there wouldn't be any, he felt broken.

    Nightpaw knew he needed to tell someone - anyone - and, for some reason, the first cat to come to mind was Cinderblossom. Like him, she had lost everything in a single moment, and to the same cruel power. Glancing over at the sleeping form of Wrenpaw, he silently promised himself that he would tell her later.

    The smallest tinge of orange lit the horizon as he made his way to the nursery. He nodded to Lionmask as the guardian emerged from the warrior den, stretching and shaking the cold out of his cream fur. The larger tom seemed glad to see him.

    "It's going to be a warm day today," the guardian said as he padded over. "Newleaf is not too far off."

    Nightpaw nodded, Heatherfur's deadline in mind. With an early newleaf, would greenleaf come sooner too?

    "You seem on edge," Lionmask commented, amber eyes flicking over the apprentice's body.

    "You could say that," Nightpaw replied. The orange tones lighting the horizon reminded him of Heatherfur's piercing gaze and it unsettled him.

    Perhaps you've felt my eyes on you... He shivered.

    The concern on Lionmask's face flickered and, for a moment, Nightpaw thought he saw a golden she-cat reflected in the guardian's eyes. His white-rimmed eyes widened and, shaking his head, he backed away from the guardian.

    If I'm not even supposed to trust my littermates, how can I trust a guardian? All of his previous doubts returned, jostling against each other inside of his head. That paranoid feeling, the one of eyes - spying eyes - watching him grew with every passing moment.

    "Nightpaw?" Lionmask's voice broke through the haze and the apprentice blinked, fur slowly lying flat.

    "I'm fine," he said quietly. "Just... It was just a dream."

    The momentary look of confusion on Lionmask's face disappeared quickly, replaced by its usual blankness. Nightpaw followed the guardian's eyes, turning to see Hailwatcher padding up to them.

    "Nightpaw, with me. We won't require an escort," Hailwatcher said as he passed the guardian. He wouldn't meet his apprentice's curious gaze with his own and stared straight ahead, walking past as if he did not exist at all. Glancing back at the nursery and wishing he had gone to Cinderblossom while he still had the chance, Nightpaw followed his mentor out.

    They did not speak as they crossed the plain, moving in the direction of the prisoner cave. The early newleaf had turned the rock and dirt flatland into a muddy mess, each of his paws leaving a fresh print in it. The mud shifted constantly beneath him, oozing up between his claws and latching onto his pads.

    When they reached the prisoner cave, Hailwatcher continued on, not even so much as greeting Oakshade, who stood guard. Far below, the prisoner still shouted insults; Nightpaw wondered how the dark tabby's voice had not yet gone hoarse.

    By the time the spotted tom finally came to a halt, Nightpaw's shoulders ached from ploughing through the heavy mud, and his black fur had turned the colour of dead leaves and rot.

    Hailwatcher stood still for several heartbeats, and Nightpaw followed his gaze out to the horizon, now lit with swirls of yellow and magenta and the thinnest line of blue. The silhouette of the Twolegplace loomed over them and Nightpaw found himself wondering if that was where the dark tabby prisoner came from.

    "This is where I leave you," Hailwatcher said. His words were so quiet Nightpaw almost missed them. The message they carried was met with disbelief.

    "You're leaving?" Nightpaw asked in a hushed tone.

    The spotted tom sighed, breathing in the cool morning air. His frail shoulders shook, as if under his own weight, and his spotted fur clung to his ribs. The blue of his eyes no longer held that icy, piercing look; instead, they were dull, blank and, for quite possibly the first time, completely void of any emotion.

    But there was a name for that look, Nightpaw knew: defeat.

    "Why?" the black tom breathed, panic suddenly gripping at his chest.

    "You have been my apprentice for six moons," Hailwatcher replied simply, never once meeting his apprentice's gaze.

    "Six moons is not enough to learn everything a truth-teller must know!" Nightpaw said, hoping against hope that the truth-teller would change his mind.

    "It's longer than I had with my mentor," Hailwatcher replied. "I have nothing more to teach you."

    Nightpaw blinked large, fearful eyes. "But what about the stories of all the great leaders and truth-tellers of DarkClan? What about the lineages within the Clan? What about - "

    "There are others who can teach you those things," the spotted tom cut in, closing his eyes. "Others more qualified, more aligned with the views DarkClan believes in."

    The truth-teller's words made no sense to Nightpaw. What had changed in the past six moons that his mentor suddenly didn't believe himself worthy of his position? He remembered the strong, almost dangerous Hailwatcher from the beginning of his apprenticeship and, looking at the tom now, could see almost no similarities between them.

    "The only thing I can leave you with is this: it is forbidden for a reason, young one. Love makes you weak, a fraction of yourself. It keeps you from being the best you can be and that is why we must mask it. Ambition, intelligence, strength - now those are qualities that will get you through this harsh life. But being loving, compassionate, kind? Those are the best ways to get yourself killed."

    Even this statement, usually delivered with such fervour, sounded flat and fearful.

    "I payed the price for my mistakes," Hailwatcher said quietly. "I can't protect you from your own, as you seem intent on making them regardless of my warnings."

    Nightpaw opened his mouth to argue, but his mentor cut him off.

    "So this is where I leave you, Nightchaser. There is only ever enough room for one truth-teller. 'The teller's time is up, but the truth-teller has returned': those are the words you will tell the Clan when you return to them."

    The newly named truth-teller blinked his white-rimmed eyes. "Where will you go?"

    Hailwatcher paused. "Where all the others have gone. Goodbye, Nightchaser."

//

    The black tom remained still, eyes trained on the shifting colours of the horizon, until the sun hung high in the sky. Every muscle in his body trembled but he could not bring himself to move.

    Is it possible that, just yesterday, I had two mentors to guide me and now I have none?

    He wanted to run, to screech, to yowl his woes to the skies. But what good would that bring? Who would come to his aid? What would put him in a better situation?

    That draining feeling - defeat - spread through him just as, he imagined, it had through both Sootstar and Hailwatcher. The energy draining through his paws, the subtle buzz in his head that crowded all else... He sat, motionless, until the sky began to darken.

    The clouds were thick and the only light was that of the far-off Twolegplace, shining out of gaps between their dens and walls. The moon, completely obscured, could have been full or, perhaps, not present at all. He imagined it to be dark tonight, just like the rest of the world.

    A cool breeze blew across the plain and the tom tilted his head back, letting it lick at his throat and chest with its chilled tongue. He closed his eyes, willing it to take him with it.

    When he opened them again, the clouds up above had parted and the tiniest sliver of midnight sky peeked through. In that sliver, the smallest of stars twinkled, appearing to shiver in the cool night.

    His paws were leaden, but he got to them anyway. The clouds, always shifting, had already silenced the star but the tom nodded in its general direction, as if in thanks. Then, he took off across the plains.

    The prisoner cave came into view, a single grey guard standing near it. The prisoners were silent and, for a moment, he wondered if something had happened to the dark tabby since the morning.

    "Nightpaw!" the guard's voice rose into the air.

    "Goosepelt," the black tom replied, recognizing the guardian.

    "Where's Hailwatcher? Lionmask told me you left together."

    The truth-teller paused. "It's Nightchaser now." Goosepelt's blink of disbelief pushed him forward. "The teller's time is up, but the truth-teller has returned."

    Nightchaser watched as the guardian's face filled with a mixture of joy and sorrow before suddenly returning to its blank mask, as if remembering who he stood before. The new truth-teller lay a tail across the guardian's shoulders before moving off once more.

    By the time he reached camp the entirety of DarkClan awaited him with bated breath, as if the wind had brought word of his arrival. The black tom walked into camp steadily, still breathing hard from the exertion of his run. The many eyes that peered at him did little to calm his beating heart and made him doubly aware of the mud still caked to his fur.

    He made them wait, padding forwards into the centre of the camp. Dawnstar and Spiderthorn sat atop the Speaking Rock; the guardians, save for Goosepelt, sat lined up beneath. Cinderblossom and Wrenpaw, sitting between the apprentice den and nursery watched with wide eyes as he stopped; Cedarheart and Mothpaw kept their eyes down.

    "The teller's time is up, but the truth-teller has returned," he announced.

    DarkClan remained silent, until the silence seemed almost deafening. Nightchaser stopped himself from shuffling his paws, gazing around the camp nervously. Some of the Clan's members seemed to be hiding their grief at Hailwatcher's departure; others, those who held no regard for the former truth-teller, were practically glowing with joy. Masks, everywhere, slipping.

    "Welcome back, truth-teller." Dawnstar's voice came from right before him and Nightchaser turned to find her nose a mouselength away from his. He nodded his head respectfully. The light in her amber eyes surprised him with its intensity; what surprised him more, however, was the slight nod she gave towards the Speaking Rock as he looked up. Realizing what he must do, Nightchaser leaped atop the platform to address the Clan.

    "DarkClan," he began. "For many seasons, Hailwatcher guided you towards the truth, towards all that makes DarkClan great. He was a worthy truth-teller, and a worthy mentor, and I can only hope to follow in his pawsteps."

    Looking about the camp, Nightchaser noticed wariness in the stances of Swallowstorm and Wrenpaw, nearly identical in the mother and daughter. He also found the eyes of both Flamestrike and Webkit in the crowd, trained on him like he was a single beacon of light in the darkness.

    "Before he left, Hailwatcher told me that there are others here who can teach me."

    The Clan stirred in surprise and Nightchaser felt his mouth turn dry as he thought about what he would say next. He kept his eyes on Dawnstar, watching her every move.

    "I think, once more, Hailwatcher spoke the truth. There are many things we can learn from each other - fighting and hunting, climbing and jumping, swimming and running. Those skills may come more naturally to some, but they are not exclusive. Just how the history of DarkClan should not be exclusive. Everyone here deserves to know of the Old Life, of the stories passed down from generation to generation, of the lineage they possess. It is not a task for just one; it is a task for all."

    The clearing grew so quiet he could hear the flap of a small bird overhead. He waited, hoping against hope that this, whatever he was suggesting, would be accepted by the Clan.

    Then, they began to call his name, their voices rising up louder and louder into the night sky. He could finally breathe again.

    "What are you doing?" Dawnstar hissed as she padded up to him. "Knowing these things has been solely the responsibility of the truth-teller for centuries!"

    "Expanding," Nightchaser replied. "Knowing who they are and where they come from will only make them better warriors."

    "In what way?!" she growled back, the glint of her claws evident even in the darkness.

    "Intelligence. Strength. Ambition."

    The pale tortoiseshell curled her lip, unable to argue. For the briefest moment, Nigthchaser glimpsed a golden she-cat reflected in the leader's amber gaze.

    He returned the image's pointed stare. He knew what he had to do.

// Not much happening in this chapter as compared to the previous ones, but very important to the story. What do you think Nightchaser will do?