The first half moon of his life as a full truth-teller passed quickly.

    With his new-found freedom to bring whatever stories he wished, provided he presented them to Dawnstar first, Nightchaser set out to teach the Clan more about the Old Life. His stories, of course, were told under the impression of teaching DarkClan's values; only halfway through would he veer off, slipping in lessons that many might find traitorous.

    He selected his stories carefully, slowly learning who picked up on the rebellious undertones and who did not approve of his methods. Some, like Sprucetail and Swallowstorm, asked Spiderthorn to place Nightchaser on their patrols, usually under guise of teaching him more warrior techniques, in an effort to learn more. The truth-teller happily obliged whenever the deputy asked if he could join yet another patrol.

    Goosepelt, after his admission on the moors, often accompanied Nightchaser as a guardian on these outings and the two grew much closer. The older tom often kept watch while Nightchaser did his telling, giving flicks of his tail as warning signs. Then, the truth-teller shifted the views of the story, masking the morals that seemed rebellious and keeping them aligned with DarkClan's values.

    Two more guardians showed interest in his stories or, at least, did nothing to stop him from telling them. The first, Lionmask, did not keep watch as Goosepelt did, but Nighchaser knew from the tom's perked ears that he stayed alert during his tellings. Sometimes, a purr rumbled up in the guardian's chest, or a growl of scorn.

    Birchfrost, the mother of Webkit and Crowkit, became more and more immersed in the knowledge of the Old Life. Often, she joined him when he went to the nursery, offering to protect him and the kits should another caretaker attack them. Snowdapple's attack a half moon earlier had put the entire Clan on guard and the caretakers were watched very carefully.

    Both Cinderblossom and Cherrypool, unsurprisingly, listened to stories of the Old Life, giving wistful sighs as he told of the ranks and lack of cruelty. Snowdapple's killing had them constantly tensed, waiting to be punished for crimes they did not commit. They relaxed only when Nightchaser came to tell his stories.

    The kits, as always, listened with wide eyes. They were much bigger now – Webkit and Crowkit nearly old enough to be apprentices – and Dawnstar's and Thistleshade's kits had opened their eyes not too long ago. They, too, sat in a neat little row and listened.

    Nightchaser took extra care with the stories he told in the nursery should word reach Dawnstar of his tellings. With her kits a moon old already, and another nursing queen in the den, the leader of DarkClan had returned to her post and rarely visited the nursery. The risk remained nevertheless.

    Thistleshade, on the other hand, supported Nightchaser's endeavours and often pushed him to say more. Sometimes, it seemed as if she, Birchfrost, and the caretakers were more engrossed in the stories he told than the kits were. Rainkit and Reedkit, the youngest in the den, often grew bored and took up a game of mossball, Dawnstar's litter joining them soon after. Only Lightkit remained to watch him. Something in her clear hazel eyes unsettled him, but Nightchaser tried his best to hide this fact.

    Once or twice, Oakshade joined the group, pretending to have business with the truth-teller when, really, he wanted to spend time with Thistleshade and his kits. It was these times that Nightchaser chose stories about family, and the values of love and kindness. The way Oakshade and Thistleshade looked at each other did not align with any of DarkClan's views, and Nightchaser made sure to keep this a closely guarded secret.

    When he wasn't on hunting and border patrols or in the nursery, Nightchaser joined the apprentices for training in the forest. In the stories he told here, he often slipped in lessons about mercy, trying to show how refusing to take another's life did not show weakness. Wrenpaw and Bramblepaw supported this view, as did Jaystrike and Snailwhisker if they happened to be at training.

    Shadepaw, Rowanstorm, and Smoketalon were harder to sway, muttering under their breaths throughout the course of the training session, and Nightchaser back-tracked more than once in his tellings to ensure word did not reach Dawnstar.

    Nightchaser also continued his training sessions with Flamestrike, sneaking out every second night just as before to work on his battle skills. The ginger tom, larger and more muscled than ever before, pushed his littermate to no end.

    These were the only times Nightchaser did not tell stories. Something held him back, a fear that, should he say something wrong, Flamestrike would no longer want anything to do with him. The mask the newly named warrior wore seemed unshakeable.

    As this half moon passed, Nightchaser also became more and more aware of Dawnstar – and Heatherfur – watching him. He hid his actions carefully, masking the stories much in the same way DarkClan hid its emotions. Taking Mothpaw's advice, he made sure to spend his time with many cats, and never with one for too long should Dawnstar believe they were plotting.

    This made his new-found, mentor-less freedom much more restrictive. Greenleaf seemed to be approaching much too quickly despite everything he was doing to bring knowledge of the Old Life to DarkClan, and it made his heart pound. The feeling of eyes on him made it hard to confide in anyone.

    Still, he pressed on.

    The nights slowly became warmer, making it hard to sleep, and Nightchaser lay awake most nights staring up at the mossy ceiling of his log den. He wondered if his lack of sleep prevented StarClan from contacting him – if they could get away from Heatherfur for long enough to reach the living realm. His trip to Deathwaters had been delayed by Dawnstar's watchfulness.

    The rainy season began a couple of days later, turning the plains to mud and unleashing the danger of the sea along SeaClan's old coast. The waves pounded against the cliffs and the wind blew so strongly Nightchaser could feel it trying to pull him over the cliff's edge. The grasses of the moors bowed to the ground, kissing the water-spattered earth, while the barely sprouted leaves of the forest were ripped from their home, sent swirling away to far-off lands.

    Rain seemed to tire the cats of DarkClan. Patrols returned to camp soggy and worn out from trudging through the mud; those who hunted returned resigned. Even Dawnstar and Spiderthorn, usually so watchful, seemed less attentive, as if the constant downpour had blurred their vision.

    Nightchaser put this to good use and, when the camp had fallen silent for the night, padded out towards the camp entrance. Guarding it were Goosepelt and Swallowstorm, keeping a companionable silence and attempting to keep each other warm in the little shelter the High Rocks provided from the elements.

    Nightchaser only nodded as he passed, the two warriors watching him go with curious eyes, but no questions. He assumed they knew where he was headed, especially since Goosepelt had provided the suggestion in the first place.

    The rain weighed him down and, more than once, Nightchaser thought of the comfort of his den and the dry softness of his moss bed. There would be little shelter around Deathwaters and, if the rain continued to pour, it would soak him through.

    Already, he could feel the cold seeping into his bones.

    The Deathwaters rippled underneath the assault of raindrops, splashing up against the shoreline in small bursts. Nightchaser stepped forward tentatively, remembering Hailwatcher's hesitation when they first visited the pond. The water shifted back and forth, nearly reaching his paws before quickly receding back into its depths.

    He took a deep breath, lying down by the water's edge. His white-rimmed eyes followed the rise and fall of the waves, almost as if the water itself were breathing, and found his breathing matching its movements. His eyelids fell shut.

    Please, StarClan, send me a sign.

    When Nightchaser opened his eyes again, he was standing on top of the Speaking Rock in DarkClan's camp. There were cats all around, forming a circle around the centre of High Rocks; in their midst stood a sandy she-cat, her belly very round. The look in her eyes was one of terror and her tail whipped back and forth as cats rushed towards her, taunting her with their teeth and claws.

    "Sandfeather." The voice came from beside Nightchaser and he turned to see a brown tabby tom step forward. Behind him was the familiar, though much younger, black and white spotted figure of Hailwatcher.

    The she-cat in the middle of the camp looked up, baring her teeth at those atop the Speaking Rock. "Owlstar. Hailwatcher." She spat both names out with a hatred Nightchaser had never heard before. To his surprise, Hailwatcher flinched beside him.

    "I'm sure you're aware of what is to come," Owlstar said, jaws spread in a sadistic grin. "As a caretaker, you are not allowed to have kits. Clearly, that rule means nothing to you." He flicked his tabby tail at her round belly, causing the queen to wrap her tail around it protectively.

    "Would the father like to step forward?" The camp fell silent at their leader's question, heads swivelling from side to side as the Clan searched for the perpetrator. Beside Nightchaser, Hailwatcher stiffened, and the black tom could only assume that he was searching for the traitor.

    No cat stepped forward.

    "Very well," Owlstar said. "Only one will die tonight."

    Sandfeather shook her head defiantly. "You're killing more than just one if you kill me."

    "So be it," Owlstar growled. "Who would want the kits of a traitor, anyway?"

    The queen's eyes widened as the tom leaped from the rock and advanced towards her. Nightchaser could see her quivering in fear, but she held her ground, claws unsheathed.

    Before Owlstar could reach her, she shrieked suddenly in pain. Her paws gave way and she crumpled to the ground, rolling to avoid crushing her stomach beneath her. Owlstar stopped his advancement, appearing to be in shock.

    "Kill the traitor!" someone in the crowd crowed.

    The tabby moved forward only a couple steps before coming to a halt. "No. Let her suffer first. She'll watch her kits die before meeting her traitorous end."

    It took all of Nightchaser's strength to hold himself back from leaping at the DarkClan leader. Hearing Sandfeather's shrieks, he wished he could end her suffering right there and then.

    "Give her room!" A much younger Cedarheart rushed forward, herbs clamped in his jaws, as the queen began to writhe on the camp floor.

    Owlstar blocked his way, cuffing him across the head and sending the herbs flying in all directions. "Why waste herbs on a dead cat?"

    Nightchaser's chest burned with hatred.

    Sandfeather's labour lasted from sunhigh to sunset. Her shrieks rose and fell like the waves of the ocean, washing over the assembled Clan. Nightchaser watched their reactions and, perhaps unsurprisingly, found he could see past their masks. Younger versions of Lionmask and Goosepelt watched the scene with narrowed eyes while Swallowstorm, young enough to still be an apprentice, kept her eyes trained on her black and white paws.

    The only cats who truly made eye contact with the scene were Owlstar, Dawnstar – though that could not possibly be her name at this point in time – and Spiderthorn.

    Nightchaser took a step back as his eyes fell onto the figure of his father. Apart from the lack of white fur around his eyes, he looked exactly like Nightchaser imagined himself to look, or at least like the muddied reflection he'd seen in the puddles around camp. The tom sat straight and tall, unflinching even as Sandfeather's shrieks rose to a new volume.

    The first kit, a cream tom, slipped out.

    Then, a white she-cat.

    And, finally, a tiny blue and cream tortoiseshell.

    Owlstar padded forward then, the same sadistic grin already spreading across his tabby face. He approached the tom kit first, gazing down at it with crazed amber eyes.

    Nightchaser closed his eyes as the tabby brought his claws down.

    Sandfeather's cries became enraged in an instant and the thud and abruptly cut off yowl Nightchaser heard soon after could only mean one thing.

    He screwed his eyes even tighter shut, unable to look. He knew of DarkClan's bloody ways, but he would have never thought a leader cruel enough to kill not even day old kits. He remembered his own hesitation at saving Lightkit and his heart pounded even faster in his chest.

    "Wait!"

    Hailwatcher's strong voice woke Nightchaser out of his thoughts. Careful to avert his eyes from the carnage below, the tom looked to his previous mentor. The black and white tom stood at the edge of the Speaking Rock, gazing down at Owlstar with what Nightchaser could only describe as fear.

    "Spare the last kit."

    Nightchaser could hardly believe his ears. Steeling himself, he glanced down at Owlstar to see him standing over the pale tortoiseshell, claws covered with the blood of her mother and littermates.

    "And why would I do that, truth-teller?" The bloodlust had not left the tabby's eyes.

    Hailwatcher shifted. "To see if traitor's blood runs through her."

    Owlstar turned away with a snort but, instead of raising his claws again, lowered himself to peer at the kit more closely. She squirmed away from his cold nose, crying out for warmth.

    The tabby straightened up. "Perhaps you're right. An experiment of sorts, Hailwatcher?"

    The spotted tom nodded, but Nightchaser noticed he did not meet his leader's eyes.

    "What will we name her if we are to keep her?"

    The voice that rose into the still air was a familiar one and Nightchaser found himself looking at the pale pelt of none other than Dawnstar. Her amber eyes lay on the leader, challenging his decision.

    Owlstar did not take her up on her offer. Instead, he turned to Hailwatcher.

    The truth-teller remained quiet, eyes focused on the tiny form of Sandfeather's only living kit.

    Then, "Morningkit."

    Nightchaser started at the name.

    "We will name her Morningkit."

// Oh goodness, it's been a LOOOOOONG week! It's nearly midnight and I just got home from campus... I've spent over 40 hours on schoolwork this week, it's like I'm working another full time job in addition to actually going to class and the part-times I work during the school year >.<

But I managed to crank this chapter out! The quality might be a bit lower than previous chapters but I just couldn't stand the thought of leaving all of you hanging without an update. So, here it is! Let me know what you think :3