The first cold wind of the season blew through High Rocks the next morning, waking Nightpaw from his slumber. Blinking his eyes open, he realized he must have fallen asleep outside of the apprentice den.

    "I see you're awake," said a deep voice from above him and Nightpaw shot up into a sitting position, whiskers twitching in embarrassment as he met the blue eyes of his mentor.

    "Yes, Hailwatcher," he yawned.

    "I didn't think our training yesterday was that tiring," Hailwatcher replied. "Luckily for you, today will be much easier."

    The black tom's ears pricked with excitement. Though his paws still ached from the long walk into the moors yesterday, he was eager to explore more of DarkClan's territory.

    "You'll be cleaning out the dens," the truth-teller explained. "Stick to the camp unless you're gathering moss. Don't go too far into the forest; there should be enough moss on the trees nearest the river." Hailwatcher nodded his head, pleased with the instructions he'd given, and left.

    Nightpaw stared after his mentor, disappointment welling in him. What would he tell Flamepaw and Cinderpaw of his day tonight?

    As if on cue, Cinderpaw emerged from the apprentice den, giggling at Nightpaw's dishevelled appearance. "Good morning, sleepy head." She headed off across the camp clearing to where Marshclaw stood waiting.

    All around Nightpaw, the cats of DarkClan assembled themselves into patrols under Sleetfur's commands, moving out of camp swiftly to attend to their duties. Before long, the black tom sat by himself with only the sounds of the kits and caretakers for company.

    Sighing, he started on his task. Crossing the river that divided High Rocks from the forest in three quick hops, Nightpaw found himself surrounded by tall oaks and aspens, hues of red and yellow bleeding into their greenery. Sharp needles poked into his fur as he searched for signs of moss.

    He found some quickly, not far from the river just as Hailwatcher had promised, its surface still covered with the shiny dew of the morning. Unsheathing his claws, Nightpaw raked them over the soft green plant, watching the tendrils fall to the ground. He spent until sunhigh collecting, piling the moss higher and higher.

    Satisfied with his work, he clamped as much moss as possible in his jaws, turning back to look at the forest's colourful beauty one more time before making his way back to camp.

    And so began the first day of many boring apprentice tasks. The first he spent collecting moss; the second changing the bedding in each den; the third repairing the holes in the roof of the warrior's den; the fourth patching up the nursery.

    "What are you doing?" asked Bramblekit as the apprentice wove a branch into the covering of the nursery.

    "Repairing your den," Nightpaw replied bluntly. He was in no mood to speak to anyone, especially after Flamepaw's teasing remarks the previous night. While he was stuck doing every menial task possible, his littermates were learning to fight tooth and claw and hunting on every foxlength of DarkClan's territory.

    "We can see that," Shadekit said matter-of-factly. Nightpaw narrowed his eyes at her before noticing Sedgecloud, one of the caretakers, watching him. The older tom seemed uncomfortable, shoulders tense and fur not quite flat.

    "Once you're apprentices, you'll probably be doing the same thing," Nightpaw snapped back instead, patience wearing thin. How much longer would he be stuck with these tasks before he returned to actual truth-teller's training? His paw pushed the stick in place a little too harshly and he heard it snap under the pressure. The four kits watching him squealed as broken pieces of wood rained down on them.

    "Watch it!" Sedgecloud said, wrapping his tail protectively around the kits.

    Nightpaw turned, a tired snarl on his jaws, only to find the brown tabby cowering before him. The apprentice, taken aback, mumbled an apology, sweeping up the remains of the branch and returning silently to his task, all the while aware of the caretaker's untrusting gaze.

    A quarter moon later, after another seven sunrises of being confined to the camp, Nightpaw was called to Hailwatcher's den. The hollowed out log sat to one edge of the camp, isolated from the other dens. The black tom arrived to find his mentor sitting atop it.

    "Follow me," the truth-teller said without preamble.

    Nightpaw shadowed his mentor, crossing the river one step behind him, their two guardians - this time a massive cream tabby and a much smaller black she-cat - keeping pace. Hailwatcher padded through the forest confidently, spotted pelt matching the speckled leaves of the trees.

    Sunhigh was approaching when they reached a ravine. If Nightpaw hadn't been following his mentor closely, he might have walked right off the edge; the ground fell away suddenly, leafy forest floor giving way to harsh rock. A fallen tree hung off the edge of the cliff, dangling precariously by its roots into the chasm below.

    The apprentice watched with large eyes as Hailwatcher leaped up onto the fallen tree in one graceful spring, moving two foxlengths along it before turning back to look at Nightpaw. Swallowing, the little tom moved to follow.

    He scrabbled up onto the trunk, pelt burning at his lack of grace. His claws immediately plunged into the dry bark of the dead tree, keeping him from sliding off. Once he'd caught his balance, Nightpaw took a deep breath and inched his way down the fallen tree's length.

    In front of him, Hailwatcher landed on the ground with a soft thud and Nightpaw followed quickly, wary of falling off as the trunk vibrated under the paw steps of the two guardians. They dropped down behind him, automatically moving to flank him on either side. Hailwatcher, observing the trio, nodded his head in approval.

    "You may hunt while we talk," the truth-teller said.

    "If something attacks you, we'll be here," the cream tabby replied, voice a deep rumble. With a nod to the truth-teller, the guardians turned east, moving in sync. Nightpaw watched them in admiration, the way their paws moved in rhythm and their tails swayed in time as they walked.

    "Where are we, Nightpaw?" Hailwatcher asked.

    Nightpaw had known the answer to that question since they'd entered the forest. "RockClan's old camp."

    The truth-teller nodded his head in agreement. "Over there was the leader's den," he continued, pointing to a hollowed out log with his long tail. "And there was the warriors den. That large cave in the cliff housed the nursery. And that little bramble den was for the apprentices."

    The apprentice nodded, repeating the names of the dens under his breath as he looked at each in turn. The RockClan leader's den reminded him of Hailwatcher's back at High Rocks, while the bramble den reminded him of DarkClan's nursery.

    "What about the medicine and elders' dens?" he asked, remembering that the Clans had different ranks in the Old Life. The tom was curious to know as much as possible about the time before the Masked Uprising.

    When he turned to his mentor, he realized it had not been a proper question to ask. "We do not speak of those ranks," Hailwatcher hissed, making Nightpaw shrink back. "Elders weaken the Clan - warriors should either die in battle or end their own lives once they are too old to be of use to the Clan. And medicine cats are too prone to compassion and sympathy, which violates all DarkClan stands for. Their history with StarClan also makes them dangerous."

    Nightpaw nodded, hoping to show the truth-teller that he was ready to learn anything the tom was willing to tell him.

    Hailwatcher's gaze softened as he noticed this. "But those are stories for another time. I brought you here to tell you about a certain caretaker." The apprentice nearly had to force his fur to lie flat as he thought back to Sedgecloud's strange reaction just over a quarter moon prior.

    The truth-teller settled on the ground, stretching out his paws before him to make himself comfortable. Nightpaw remained sitting, wanting to look alert and attentive.

    "Four season cycles ago, when Owlstar still led DarkClan, a loner began to wander our territory. DarkClan warriors attempted to catch him or kill him to get rid of the threat he posed to our Clan, but he evaded them skillfully and fought fiercely if caught. So fiercely, in fact, that he killed Gingertail, Owlstar's deputy.

    "Owlstar called for a deputy race to replace Gingertail, and three brave toms stepped forward: Rabbitnose, Redclaw and Batwhisker. Rabbitnose was the eldest, the most experienced; Redclaw was a fierce warrior and incredibly ambitious; Batwhisker was just over two season cycles old but full of fire.

    "Now, as you know, the deputy race consists of four parts: a fighting and hunting assessment, an interview by the leader and truth-teller, constant monitoring to show they are able to mask their emotions, and a final test to ensure they can rule without mercy.

    "Batwhisker fell out of the race early on, dying of battle wounds shortly after the fighting assessment. Rabbitnose and Redclaw moved on, using their time between assessments to find an opponent for the final test.

    "It was Redclaw who found the loner who had killed Gingertail. He knocked the tom unconscious with a rock and dragged his body back to camp, keeping him prisoner until the time of the final assessment drew near."

    "Is it tradition to have the candidates battle a loner for the final test?" Nightpaw interrupted, never having seen a deputy race before.

    Hailwatcher shook his head. "No, but the candidates are expected to find themselves a prisoner. Loners, rogues, kittypets that wander our territory. If they are unable to find one, they are pitted against a prisoner of the Clan, sometimes even a warrior who has displeased the leader."

    Nightpaw's eyes widened, but he did not comment. Hailwatcher took this as a sign to continue.

    "One cat did exactly that the day of the final assessment. She was a caretaker, in charge of Dawnkit and Sandkit, and she took care of them well enough for a cat who had failed her warrior assessment. Milkfeather, however, made a fatal mistake the day of the final test by disobeying Owlstar's orders.

    "As Redclaw prepared to fight the loner, Milkfeather began to doubt Owlstar's instructions to let the kits watch the bloodbath. She feared they were too young to watch such proceedings, too innocent to understand what was happening.

    "But Owlstar believed that kits should be taught about battle and death from the earliest age, to prepare them for life in the Clan. They would be fierce, strong and tough warriors if they understood killing and were able to watch it done at three moons old.

    "As the fighting began, Milkfeather drew Sandkit back into the nursery, telling her to close her eyes against the horrors of the battle. Her intention was to return for Dawnkit and do the same, but Owlstar reached the kit first.

    "Redclaw killed the loner to cheers from the Clan and Rabbitnose stepped forward, ready to take on a prisoner he'd selected. Just as he was about to leap, Owlstar pushed Milkfeather out before the candidate instead, forcing the caretaker to fight or be killed.

    "Rabbitnose finished her off in three quicks moves and Milkfeather's punishment served as a warning to the Clan: obey the leaders orders, whatever they may be, or pay the death price."

    Nightpaw blinked at the rather abrupt ending to the story. "What happened to the kits?"

    Hailwatcher purred, as if he'd known this question would be asked. "Sandkit, who did not watch the killings, failed her warrior assessment and became a caretaker - Sandfeather. Owlstar named her after Milkfeather to remind the Clan of the caretaker's mistake.

    "Dawnkit, however, had watched the killings and seen her caretaker die at the claws of a warrior. She went on to become one of the greatest warriors of DarkClan, even partaking in a deputy race herself. She rose higher and higher, until - "

    "Dawnstar," Nightpaw breathed, mind filled with an image of the proud and fierce she-cat.

    The truth-teller nodded once more. "Milkfeather's sympathy exposed Sandkit to weakness and, in turn, resulted in her failure. Dawnkit grew to become our leader, untouched by affection. Milkfeather's story teaches us that obeying orders is of utmost importance when it comes to being part of DarkClan. Without question, without complaints."

    Hailwatcher gave Nightpaw a pointed look and the apprentice lowered his head guiltily, remembering his past half moon of confinement to camp. While he did as told, his grumbles and sour mood indicated his dissatisfaction with the tasks he was given.

    "I hope you will prove yourself more obedient in the future," the spotted tom said.

    Nightpaw nodded, understanding the truth-teller's lesson. Yet, he found there to be a question about Milkfeather's story rattling about his head that he could not ignore. Taking a deep breath, he decided to find an answer to it.

    "Hailwatcher," Nightpaw began tentatively. "If exposing kits to weakness at a young age results in their failure, then why do the weakest cats of DarkClan take care of the kits?"

    The large tom hesitated. "The caretakers are cats who have failed their warrior assessment, which makes them unfit to hunt or fight for the Clan. As you know, cats who fail their warrior test are either killed or made caretakers. By being chosen to take care of the Clans young, rather than put to death, the caretakers are given a second chance to prove themselves as worthy of being part of DarkClan's ranks. Their job is not to provide love to the kits but to keep a watchful eye on them to ensure they grow to become strong apprentices. Any form of attachment is a weakness.

    "If they do show some form of weakness, they are either killed or imprisoned, and the kits shown this weakness either follow that path, which means they were weak to begin with, or learn from their caretakers' mistakes and grow to become fine warriors."

    "Then why don't the birth mothers of the kits take care of them?" Nightpaw asked before he could stop himself.

    Hailwatcher fixed him with a piercing stare. "Have you not been listening, Nightpaw?"

    The apprentice racked his brain, trying to please his mentor once more. The thought he searched for hung just out of reach and no matter how hard the little tom tried, it flitted away from him grasp. He bowed his head in defeat.

    "Attachment, Nightpaw," Hailwatcher said. "Any form of attachment is a weakness." The words pounded into Nightpaw's head and he vowed to never forget them.

    Hailwatcher got to his paws, shaking out his long fur before signalling Nightpaw to follow. As they travelled up the fallen tree to higher ground, the apprentice suddenly remembered another question he had after the abrupt ending of the story.

    "Hailwatcher, who won the deputy race?"

    The truth-teller did not even turn to face his apprentice. "That wasn't the point of the lesson, now, was it?"

// I'm loving these characters more and more as I write them. This whole story is just becoming more fun and easy to write (or so it seems), to the point where I've already written two chapters ahead. So... Perhaps I will release an extra chapter this week. What say you?

Also, for some unknown reason, I keep imagining Hailwatcher as a majestic snow leopard. No? Just me? Alright then.