Even before Larkwing had opened her eyes, she could already feel the warm, dazzling light of the sun on her face. Something was crawling around in her fur — probably a beetle that thought her body was a mountain to be conquered. With a huge yawn, she opened her mouth and stretched out her legs with her claws spread wide.

She felt as if moons had passed since she had dozed off after sunset yesterday. Maybe it was because she was accustomed to waking up much earlier. Yesterday seemed to have sapped more of her strength than usual.

Larkwing sat up and began her usual morning wash, starting with her chest fur and front paws. Occasionally, she let her gaze wander around the den. It was a fallen tree, in the large crown of which the cats had made their nests. Sunray had offered them the option of sleeping in an empty ruin — as they called the half-destroyed, angular dens — but to the golden she-cat's surprise, they had rejected this offer immediately. Each of them was used to sleeping under a canopy of leaves. The mere thought of the ruins and the skydens was enough to make Larkwing shiver. Never in my life would I enter such a thing voluntarily! She thought back to how the ruin cats had entered and left the unnatural dens as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

In general, they seemed very secretive. Last night they had kept to themselves the whole time, hiding in the shadows. While the Clan cats had shared a rabbit, Larkwing was constantly aware of the staring, curious looks all around them. Except for Sunray, none of the ruin cats had approached them after their arrival, and she had only said that they should make sure to always share their prey with two or three other cats.

Is that why the ruin cats are so small, because they don't eat much?, Larkwing had wondered. Or do they have to eat less anyway because they are small by nature?

However, the explanation that they simply wanted to or even should be sparing with their prey seemed much more plausible. Of course, this custom also existed in RoseClan — and certainly in the other Clans as well. The Clan cats were careful to share, especially during leaf-fall and leaf-bare, or when prey was otherwise scarce. The difference was that no one had to teach them. It was an instinct to want to make sure that all Clanmates were provided for.

When she had thought about Sunray's request like that, Larkwing had had the really silly thought of whether they had to share even measly mice. But her mouth had been too full to meow properly, and before she had finished chewing, Sunray had already run off somewhere among the ruins.

In an awkwardly twisted posture, Larkwing ran her tongue over her belly fur. She hated this part of cleaning, as there was always a tuft of hair sticking out somewhere.

Finally, after Larkwing had almost licked every part of her body that she could reach herself, she sat down in a more comfortable position. She realised with amusement that her travelling companions were still deep in the dreamlands. Clearly the past day had affected them as much as it had her — or they were simply glad not to be shooed out of the nest with the first rays of the sun.

Pretty much in the centre of the treetop, Redleaf and Cloverdapple had curled up close together, their muzzles hidden between their front paws. Crowshadow lay at the edge of the nest with her hind legs stretched out to the side, her fluffy tail touching Splashfur's nose. Every time the reddish-cream LaurelClan tom breathed in and out, Crowshadow's tail hair was slightly blown apart, but neither Crowshadow nor Splashfur woke up.

I'd like to have a good night's sleep like that, Larkwing thought, rolling her eyes. 

Leafwind was the only one in Larkwing's field of vision who had settled into a halfway normal sleeping position. He was lying on his side with his limbs pulled up against his body and far away from any tails.

Had no one come round to check on them yet? It seemed extremely strange to Larkwing that sunhigh had been over for a while and they hadn't woken up before. Had the ruin cats simply forgotten about them? After all, the tree trunk was secluded at the edge of the cluster of ruins.

Without further ado, Larkwing decided to wake Lakepelt and cautiously took a step closer. Lying partly on his flank and partly on his back with his legs stretched out, he actually gave the impression that he could easily continue sleeping until sunset. In the shade of the foliage, his otherwise very dark grey mackerel fur appeared black and stripeless, although a little sunlight fell through the holes in the treetop, creating lighter speckles. In addition, he had bitten his lower flew, revealing a few fangs, which elicited a purr from Larkwing.

While she was still thinking about how she could wake Lakepelt up without him flying out of the den in surprise, he stirred on his own. Blinking, he stared at his younger Clanmate, his eyes languid, as if he had forgotten where he was.

And then he dropped his head back to the ground like a heavy stone, about to fall asleep again.

"Stay awake, will you?" Larkwing scolded him. She could tell from the brief twitching of his ears that Lakepelt had heard her, but continued to ignore her.

Larkwing stomped forward with clenched teeth and hit him several times with her paw. When Lakepelt still made no move to get up, she had to suppress a howl. "In case you haven't noticed, it's been sunhigh for a long time," she added.

That seemed to have finally shaken Lakepelt up. Shaking his fur, he pulled himself onto his hindquarters and peered through the canopy as if he didn't believe Larkwing. "How long have you been awake?" he enquired.

"Not that long, I think," Larkwing replied. "I just had to clean my fur before I woke you up."

"Ooohh."

Larkwing wrinkled her muzzle in confusion. "What ooohh?"

"You always take forever to clean yourself," Lakepelt meowed. With his eyes narrowed, his gaze wandered from the foliage back to Larkwing. 

Outraged, Larkwing opened her mouth and lashed her tail. "What can I do about it?" she hissed. "Do you have any idea how much I have to twist just to get to my hind legs?"

Was that maybe too loud? She turned her head to look behind her, but it seemed that none of the other cats had woken up. This is certainly going to be fun later, pulling them out of their nests.

Half amused, half annoyed, she wanted to turn her attention back to Lakepelt. By a claw's length, however, she escaped what was sure to be a rude collision with his muzzle and staggered back a step. He had just been further back and she had really only looked away for a moment. How in StarClan's name did he always manage to sneak up so unnoticed?

Unlike Larkwing, it hadn't rattled Lakepelt. He stuck his nose forward and sniffed the tortico she-cat extensively. "Then why don't you ask Amberhaze to help you with that?"

"Uh, A-amberhaze?" Larkwing stuttered, flabbergasted.

"Yeah, why not? Elderpelt and I clean each other all the time. There's nothing reprehensible about it."

Was that so? Larkwing couldn't remember ever witnessing this, although Lakepelt, Elderpelt and she had their nests in the same bush back in the RoseClan camp. Then she shook her head resolutely. "Don't you think that's a bit too... a bit too inappropriate?" she enquired.

Lakepelt was visibly surprised, twitching his whiskers. "What?"

Uncomfortably, Larkwing ran her tongue over her flews. "Well, I... I mean, we're not kits anymore. It was totally different back then. Now it would be considered weird if we did that," she argued, her fur prickling.

"Weird?" Lakepelt echoed. He lifted his head up again. His eyes met Larkwing's for a moment before he lunged at her, threw her to the ground and began licking her head fur almost aggressivly. "I'd rather say that you are the weird one here if you seriously think that."

Larkwing fidgeted around. "I could have reached that spot with my paws," she grumbled in a huff.

For a moment, Lakepelt paused and snapped playfully at her ear. "Really?" he asked, dragging out the word. "Then why was that fur against the grain? It looked far too ridiculous to leave it like that."

Ashamed, Larkwing became uncomfortably hot. What are you, my mother or what? When Lakepelt finally let go of her, she wiggled her head as if she was trying to shake something off. The spot where the dark grey and white tabby tom had licked her felt disturbingly wet.

"Just don't get dirty again." Lakepelt twitched his whiskers. "I'll be right back."

"Wait, where are you going?" Larkwing wanted to know with wide eyes. Was he perhaps going to see where the ruin cats were? She could accompany him! Excitedly, she took a step forwards.

But Lakepelt backed away with his ears flattened. "Do you want to follow me to the dirtplace now?" He purred in amusement. "That's not necessary. I'll make sure I don't get attacked by anything." He disappeared on the other side of the green foliage.

Without her realising it, Larkwing's fur had bristled. She knew exactly what Lakepelt had been hinting at. She had only wanted to make dirt, too, and instead the situation had turned into the purest nightmare.

I have turned into the purest nightmare. Even though it had only been yesterday, it already seemed so much further away. Nonetheless, Larkwing could still feel the fear she had felt when the vine-pierced she-cat had appeared. That strange voice that was suddenly in her head and had forced her to kill.

Larkwing took a shaky breath. Her heart almost seemed to burst in her chest, which was constricting. This is over. Over, over, over, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. But the longer she tried to calm herself, the greater her fear became, growing further and further like a giant tree.

Suddenly, a suppressed but still very audible purr sounded behind her and she whirled around. Startled, she realised that the other cats were sitting upright in their nests and staring at her as intently as owls.

"Um... uh, h-how long have you been awake?" Larkwing stuttered, suddenly at a loss for words.

Exuberantly, Crowshadow jumped to her paws, bumping her ears against the foliage and making it tremble. "We didn't realise you two were so close." Her greenish-yellow eyes sparkled mischievously. "Did you already... well, you know what I mean."

Larkwing wrinkled her muzzle. "Did we what already?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Crowshadow retorted. "Even a mole can see from three tree-lengths away that you're into each other."

Anger flared up in Larkwing. "That's not true!" she hissed back.

Splashfur tilted his head. "Are you too embarrassed to admit it?"

Shut up! Just be quiet! Larkwing huffed. "Get rid of that mouse-brained thought really quickly. There's nothing between us. You might not be able to understand that with your nut-sized brain, but I'll say it anyway. I'm not the least bit interested in entering into some weird relationship. I don't need a mate and there's nothing wrong with that."

With a growl, she whirled around and climbed out of the den. Only now did she realise that maybe she should have been more careful with her choice of words.

Still, that didn't diminish her anger. On the contrary, it continued to blaze until Larkwing wanted to scream. Why was it so hard for others to understand that she wasn't in love? It might be true that she and Lakepelt had become very close over the moons, but not once had she harboured the thought that they could be more than friends. At least not seriously. Ever since she could remember, she had never been able to understand why cats were so keen on finding a mate. It made one dependent on the other, friendships fell apart because love mattered so much more.

Purposelessly, Larkwing wandered around. In front of her she pushed a smooth, reddish pebble with white splinters that she had found by chance between the blades of grass. She knew exactly what she wanted and she wouldn't let anyone tell her otherwise. She would spend her life becoming the best warrior she could be. She wanted to be a cunning and feared fighter, a fast and successful hunter, to serve her Clan with all her strength. There was neither time nor interest for a relationship.

The pebble rolled down the embankment to the river, flew over a large, edgy stone and sank into the water with a dull sounding splash. Larkwing immediately slid down the slope and searched in vain for her lost toy. Too bad, it was actually quite pretty.

For a while, Larkwing stared spellbound at the flowing grey surface of the water. On the other bank stood a few smooth, grey, sky-high trunks and a few birch trees that were reflected upside down in the river.

A pang of thirst came over Larkwing and she dipped her white muzzle in to drink. She liked the peace and quiet here. Right now was another one of those moments when she was so agitated, as if a storm was raging inside her. She was still frustrated by what Crowshadow and Splashfur had claimed.

Does everyone think that Lakepelt and I have something going on? With a sudden surge of despair, she paused, her nose barely a whisker's breadth away from the cool water. The thought that possibly the whole of RoseClan had imagined a completely false picture of them was unbearable.

But why should she care what others wanted to think? After all, she could judge her own feelings better, and her heart told her that there was no interest in a mate. And one day everyone would realise that they had been wrong.

"Guardian of the Ancient Stone," a soft voice suddenly meowed without warning.

As if she had been caught doing something forbidden, Larkwing jumped up in fright, almost toppling forwards and tumbling headfirst into the river. Reflexively, she anchored the claws of her white hind paws in the ground and regained her balance.

Mousedung! How embarrassing! Larkwing tried not to let anything show while she searched for the source of the voice, which she quickly found.

At the top of the embankment stood the grey tabby she-cat with the cream-coloured spots on her back who Larkwing had also seen yesterday when she arrived. What was her name again? Cinder?

"I apologise so much," the she-cat continued, her gaze downwards. "Tell me, am I allowed to look at you?"

Larkwing's eyes narrowed. "Sure," she confirmed in surprise. "Oh, and my name is Larkwing, by the way."

With a slightly curled muzzle, the grey and cream she-cat slowly lifted her gaze from the ground until her amber eyes were looking directly at Larkwing. Had there just been a twitch that had shaken her body?

"What the name of a guardian is shall be denied us," the grey-cream she-cat explained, her voice suddenly rough and dry.

The question of why that was was on the tip of Larkwing's tongue, but before she could even open her mouth, the she-cat continued talking.

"Well then, it's time to get going." Without giving any further explanation, she turned and toddled off.

Larkwing hurried up the embankment and caught up with her. "Wait a moment! Where are we going now?"

"To the Ancient Stone, of course! That's why you're here." The ruined she-cat sounded genuinely surprised.

Larkwing chewed uncomfortably on her lower flew. But that's not true, she thought. That's what you think. What guarantees you that I, an outsider, of all cats, am the one to whom this prophecy applies?

The grey-cream she-cat ran quickly between the ruins, so that Larkwing had trouble following her. Every now and then, the tortico she-cat tried to take a look inside the stone structures. She thought she could recognise silhouettes of cats in the shadows.

Unbelievable that they live here just like that, Larkwing was of the opinion that the ruins looked rather threatening. With their angular shape, they didn't fit in at all with the overgrown surroundings.

The grey-cream she-cat stopped unexpectedly next to an elongated ruin whose holes were overgrown with ivy vines. "Topaz?" she meowed into the interior.

While Larkwing was still wondering what she meant by 'Topaz', the question answered itself a moment later. The figure of a golden she-cat emerged from the front, large opening of the ruin. Her fur was so similar to Sunray's that she could almost pass for her lookalike, with the difference that she had a striped pattern.

She narrowed her violet-blue eyes at the sight of the grey-cream she-cat.  "Hello, Cirrus?" she meowed, her greeting emphasised more like a question. Then she winced. She had spotted Larkwing.

Cirrus! So that is her name. Larkwing resolved not to forget the name again.

"May I have a word with you?" Without waiting for an answer, Cirrus jumped up to Topaz.

Larkwing turned her ears forwards with aroused curiosity and took a step forwards. But both Cirrus and Topaz bristled their fur and backed deeper into the ruin, as if they could sense the RoseClan warrior's fear of it.

So Larkwing had no choice but to sit sulking outside and wait. She would have loved to hear what Cirrus had to say. Maybe it was about her.

The undergrowth next to the ruin began to shake and a small, dark ball of fur tumbled out awkwardly, rolling on from a swirl of paws and tail and then bumping into Larkwing's legs. Letting out a mew, more out of surprise than pain, the kit picked itself up. It was a tomkit whose downy, dark brown tabby pelt had a swirled pattern of stripes. His toes as well as his chest fur were white and his forehead had a thin, vertical white stripe.

Squinting his eyes — which were still grey-blue — against the blinding light of the sun, the kit put his head back. Larkwing noticed that he was carrying a twig in his mouth, which probably came from the bushes he had just emerged from.

After the little tom had been crouching motionless for a while, he shook himself dazedly and the twig sailed to the ground. "Are you ill?" he squeaked.

"What?" Purring uncertainly, Larkwing flattened her ears. "Why? I mean— no, I don't think I'm ill. I'm perfectly fine!"

Apparently she had chosen her words wrong, because the tomkit picked up the twig again and plodded towards Larkwing with as much determination as a kit could show. "You don't think you're ill?" he asked suspiciously. "You're just saying that! But you're not allowed to lie! And that's why you're going to have to... to... to..." He squinted helplessly at the branch. "Never mind! You have to eat this now so you can get better!"

He said all this with such seriousness that Larkwing had to snort. "But I'm telling the truth! I would never lie," she retorted with feigned indignation, knowing full well that she had already lied to her Clanmates more than enough.

She liked the kit. Maybe if he belonged to a Clan, he would become a medicine cat apprentice. He certainly had the right qualifications, even if he still had a lot to learn.

For example, that he shouldn't just arbitrarily force other cats to eat random twigs. Larkwing leant forward. "What's your name anyway?" she enquired.

The little tom's eyes became as round as two dark full moons. "Phoebe!" he squeaked, sticking his chest out proudly.

"Oh... how lovely." Larkwing tilted her head cluelessly. Cirrus, Topaz, and now Phoebe — the ruin cats were blessed with extremely strange names. "And I'm Lark—"

She didn't get any further. A screech cut through the air. Shortly afterwards, Topaz landed next to her, fluffed up to twice her size. Her blue eyes were glowing with rage.

"Phoebe!" she hissed, pronouncing the name as if it were a curse. "Don't you dare speak to the Guardian! You're just a kit."

Phoebe backed away with his ears flattened. From one moment to the next, he looked frightened, intimidated even. "But... But I didn't..." he tried in vain to defend himself.

So roughly that Phoebe fell to the ground, Topaz snatched the branch from him and threw it far away with a swing of her narrow head. "And what was that about? She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "How many times do I have to let you sleep outside before you get it? You. Are. A. Tom. And toms don't deal with feminine stuff like healing."

Larkwing audibly drew in the air between her teeth. She hurriedly pushed herself protectively in front of Phoebe. "You can't be serious!" she protested indignantly. "You can't just let him sleep outside! On his own? That's far too dangerous! And..."

Her voice stopped abruptly. Because Topaz's fire of rage had gone out. Instead, she stood there, petrified, her mouth slightly open.

Larkwing let out an annoyed sigh. She had barely been here half a day and already she couldn't stand the behaviour of the cats here. She was part of an important prophecy? She would be given an important task? Pah!, she thought contemptuously. That's no reason to be afraid of me and pretend to burst into flames or be dragged through a hole straight into the Dark Forest if you look me in the eye.

Finally Topaz snapped out of her trance and stomped past Larkwing, her head turned away. "That's enough now," she growled dangerously quietly. "If you dare to interact with the Chosen One of the prophecy one more time, or not behave like a tom, then—" She faltered in mid-speech and arched her back. "Well, then you know what will happen to you."

She grabbed Phoebe by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back to the ruins. The small, dark brown tabby tomkit squirmed defiantly in her grip. "Put me down!" he meowed in such a pitiful tone that it seemed to tear one's heart out. "I want to keep playing with Lark! Let go of me! I don't want to come with you!"

His pleas were in vain. Larkwing remained behind, looking after Topaz in bewilderment.