The next half moon brought with it cooler winds. Every night, when Shademask woke from his nightmares, he perched himself outside of the warrior den until his heart stopped racing, watching the slowly changing leaves in the partial light of the moon. They were the colour of the setting sun now, only the faintest flecks of green still visible.

"Another dream?" Mothpelt asked him on her way past. It was the night of a half moon, which meant she was returning from her trip to Moonwaters. He nodded mutely in return, following the medicine cat to her den where the promise of relief from his nightmares waited.

Thanks to the mixtures of chamomile, thyme, and poppy seeds Mothpelt prepared for him, Shademask woke well-rested most mornings, even despite his nightly vigils. Though the dreams continued to bother him, he could at least rest easy knowing they didn't impact his ability to help the Clan.

"You're awfully lively this morning," Lightchaser commented with a yawn as they sat awaiting Oakshade's morning orders.

Shademask shrugged. "I'm excited for patrol I suppose."

His mate gave him a curious glance but didn't say anything more. Sure enough, the Clan deputy called Shademask's name for the midday patrol.

"I'll be off hunting," Lightchaser said by way of farewell, brushing her tail over his whiskers. Shademask felt his heart thrum in his chest.

With the extra time he had before the patrol, he decided to visit Rainheart in the nursery. Grabbing a mouse from the freshkill pile, he headed over to where she lay in a sunny spot outside of her den, for all the world looking to be asleep. Shademask knew, however, that she was keeping a watchful eye on her kits.

"Can you believe they're almost a moon old already?" she said as he approached. Owlkit and Sootkit were crawling around within her reach, having taken their first steps only days prior. Their eyes were fully open now, and their ears tall as could be.

Shademask dropped the mouse in front of the queen and watched her eyes light up. "They'll be eating solid food soon too." She ran her tongue over her fangs before digging in. "But I'm not ready to share just yet."

"They're growing much more quickly than I expected them to," Shademask admitted, watching Sootkit fall over his own paws. He purred.

"They are, aren't they?" Rainheart's single eye held pride and joy.

"They'll be sneaking out of camp in no time," Shademask said, earning himself a swat from the queen.

She fixed him with a pointed stare. "Don't go giving them ideas." Sure enough, the kits' ears were pricked, though they were busy pawing at each other, pretending not to listen. Shademask gave Rainheart an apologetic look before moving to join his patrol, which was slowly gathering around Oakshade by the fallen tree.

Robinflight led the way, though she was the youngest, and Shademask brought up the rear. Beavertail and Oakshade padded along, the former clumsy as always and the latter nearly silent.

"How's Antpaw doing?" Beavertail asked the deputy. "I thought Minkfur was going to completely lose it on you."

Oakshade's whiskers twitched. "He's healing up just fine. Honestly, he's lucky the injury wasn't worse. That fall would have killed him if we hadn't been there."

"Sounds like Minkfur should be thanking you, not screaming at you," Robinflight commented.

"I did what I could," Oakshade replied. "But I understand her; we all have remnants of DarkClan somewhere within us."

Maybe it was Oakshade's casual mention of DarkClan that made Shademask aware of the scent, or the fact that the smell triggered a part of him that immediately receded to the darkest corners of his mind, to the place where his nightmares came from. They were at the edge of the forest, not far from the MoorClan border.

"That scent," he said, fur bristling. "Doesn't it remind you of..."

Oakshade's fur was also bristling. "DarkClan. Some of them are still out there, planning StarClan knows what."

Robinflight shrank back from the border, eyes wide. "They can't possibly outnumber us, can they?"

"That depends on who they've convinced to join their ranks," Oakshade replied. It was the truth, Shademask knew, but not comforting in the slightest. Robinflight trembled beside him and he lay a calming tail across her shoulders.

"They're not a threat yet," he told her. "But we should report this to Sprucestar as soon as we get back."

"Hold on, I smell something else." Beavertail bounded off in the direction of the MoorClan border, nose high in the air. The rest of the patrol followed, identifying the scent quickly: fox, and fresh fox too.

"Its trail crosses the border, but which way was it going?" Oakshade said, gazing into MoorClan territory.

"I'm sure we'll find out at the Gathering," Beavertail replied. "For now, all we can do is watch out for the mangy beast and hope it doesn't come lurking."

The deputy nodded, turning his paws in the direction of the camp. "Lots to report today." His voice was grim, and Shademask couldn't help but notice that the air around them was just the slightest bit colder than before.

//

As bleak as the patrol's news was, their moods were still lifted by the reports of the hunting patrol. Lightchaser had tracked down a pheasant and, with the help of Dewheart and Stormfall, had managed to catch it.

"Wherever did you find it?" Cinderblossom asked her, eyes round at the sight of the massive bird.

"At the edge of the forest, furthest away from the Gathering Place," Lightchaser replied. Shademask could see she was trying to hide her pride, but the cocky tilt of her head gave her away.

"It almost got away from us," Stormfall added. "Lightchaser was quick though, managed to cut it off before it got very far!"

"Looks like a feast for the whole Clan," Shademask purred, licking his mate's ear. Lightchaser pressed closer to him, still thrumming with adrenaline from her hunt.

"Anything interesting happen on your patrol? Obviously it couldn't have been as exciting as our pheasant chase." The tortoiseshell bumped his shoulder playfully.

Shademask hesitated, wondering how much he should disclose. DarkClan was a touchy subject with everyone, but especially with his mate. The fox would worry her too, and he didn't want to worry her – not ever.

"Shademask, Sprucestar's asking for you," Oakshade said as he passed. "Something about a meeting."

"I'll be right there," the dark warrior replied. Then, turning back to Lightchaser, "I'll tell you all about my day when I get back, alright?" The she-cat nodded, eyeing Oakshade's retreating back curiously. She didn't know about DarkClan – yet.

Shademask entered the den within the Fallen Tree to find more cats than he'd expected. He looked to Mothpelt quizzically, but the she-cat turned her head to Sprucestar.

"Welcome, everyone," the RockClan leader began, her black form nearly lost in the darkness of her den. "I've called you together to discuss something we thought we were done with – DarkClan. They've been scented on our territory twice now, once badly disguised and the other with no attempt to hide at all. If they trespass a third time, it means war."

Shademask bristled, wondering if Sprucestar was joking about waging war, but the solemnness of the assembled told him a third war was a distinct possibility.

Beavertail stepped up. "You say war is inevitable, but would you wait for them to come to us?"

Oakshade shook his head. "It's too dangerous. If they attack the camp they can block off our exit routes, especially if they've scouted ahead. And if they outnumber us then this gorge will become a pool of blood."

"Is that what the scents are, then? Scouts?" Mothpelt asked. "From what I know, they've only been scented near the furthest borders, which means they haven't scouted the camp."

"Not yet," Beavertail pointed out, wrapping his tail around the grey she-cat. "It would be easy for them to find, I'm sure we reek to them just as much as they reek to us."

"We all came from DarkClan too, though," Mothpelt argued. "Shouldn't our scents be somewhat similar?"

"Your scents changed when you lived in the Twolegplace with the alley cats," Thistleshade replied. "There were still some similarities, but the DarkClan cats have picked up some of that Twolegplace scent by now, and we've picked up the scent of the forest. Think of Beetlefang – she smells like SeaClan's waters at Gatherings now."

"What if we sent scouts, then, to spy on the DarkClan supporters in the Twolegplace?" Beavertail continued. "Some of us have spent most of our lives there, I'm sure we could figure something out."

Oakshade shook his head. "Leafbare is coming quickly, and our hunting patrols are bringing in less and less freshkill – Lightchaser's pheasant excluded, of course. I'm afraid we wouldn't be able to sacrifice even two cats to scout; sustaining the Clan through the cold season is more important right now."

Sprucestar nodded her agreement. "That's a fair point. RockClan has just formed, and we can't let it fall it apart so soon."

"Especially if we don't know if our scouts would be returning to us," Oakshade continued. "It's one thing to send them, but what if they're caught and killed? We have kits in the nursery to apprentice, sure, but we need our warriors."

"Heavier patrols then," Thistleshade suggested.

This time, Mothpelt spoke up. "With leafbare bearing down on us, piling on a higher workload could be dangerous. We can't have cats on four separate patrols each in one day, especially if food stores are low. Exhaustion plus the cold can only end in grief. Greencough is on the way too."

Everyone assembled shuddered at the thought. Shademask thoughts filled with Yewpaw, who'd been taken by greencough the past leafbare season. Lightchaser had not even had a chance to say goodbye to her littermate.

"What do you think, Shademask?" He was snapped out of his thoughts by Sprucestar's piercing gaze, and found the entire council looking to him. The tom swallowed, suddenly aware of how much less experienced he was against some of these warriors. But he'd been asked to join this meeting by Sprucestar herself, even if he felt completely inadequate.

"I agree that heavier patrols could be a risky move," he began slowly, acknowledging the medicine cat with a nod. "But I think it might be worth it if we combine patrols. Instead of having separate hunting and border patrols, have patrols go out to the borders and have them actively looking for freshkill and threats at the same time. Dawn, midday, dusk, and midnight patrols."

"Three to four cats per patrol and we'd be covered," Oakshade said, nodding along.

"Go on," Sprucestar prodded, waving her tail at Shademask.

"Sacrificing cats to scout is risky too, but not if we're smart about it," he continued, the ideas unfolding in his head. "If a patrol scents DarkClan on the territory they should follow the trail, but only to the nearest border. It'll show us their entry points, and possibly give us some idea about where they're coming from."

"If we scent them in the same area more often, the probability of that entry point as a place to attack from is also more likely," Thistleshade responded. "Then we can set up higher defenses in those areas, or at least have the patrols on higher alert."

The RockClan leader inclined her head. "Both of these tactics will increase our defenses without spreading us too thin." She turned to Oakshade. "Implement them, preferably by dawn tomorrow. StarClan knows what's coming our way, but I'd rather be prepared for the storm whenever it decides to hit."

Shademask felt a swell of pride growing in his chest despite the ominous feeling talk of DarkClan always brought with it.

"Meeting dismissed," Sprucestar continued. "Except you, Oakshade, I have one last thing to discuss with you."

Shademask dipped his head respectfully to both his leader and deputy, bringing up the rear once more as the other meeting members filed out.

Just as he was approaching the exit, he heard Sprucestar's purr. "I told you some new blood on the council would do us good."