No one asked questions. No threats behind veiled comments, no acknowledgement of their disappearance.

Realizing he might not be under as great scrutiny as he had originally believed, Nightchaser grew bolder and, within the next few sunsets, every rebel knew of the attack. The moon waned much too slowly for Nightchaser's liking but, eventually, only half of the glowing midnight orb remained. In its light, he watched the last of DarkClan's night patrols return, silently slinking into their dens so as not to wake the others.

Copper eyes blinked at him from the apprentice den and he blinked back, but made no move to join them. Though no one seemed to be watching him closely, the same could not be said of the apprentices. The time of their warrior assessment grew near and the days were filled with hunting and training, leaving little time for much else. Since their night together, Nightchaser had seen Wrenpaw only in passing, never exchanging more than a few words.

Wrenpaw, too, disappeared into her den and the camp was empty save for his lone figure, perched atop the log den. The sky stretched out in all directions around him, broken only by the pale light of the moon.

Where are the stars? he thought. It's so dark and lonely without them.

In his preoccupation with the sky, he nearly missed the ginger pelt slinking towards him.

"Nightchaser, always chasing the night," Flamestrike mewed as he leaped up to join his littermate.

Nightchaser hid his surprise. "Just a way to pass the time."

The ginger tom snorted. "Rather than sleeping? I see you out here nearly every night."

The truth-teller shrugged his shoulders. "Guess it's easier to face my thoughts here than in there." He flicked his tail at the interior of the den.

A pause. Then, "What are you thinking about?"

Wrenpaw's face flashed before him, her copper eyes full of affection as she asked the same question. Flamestrike's did not hold the same warmth, just the bright light of curiosity – and, somewhere deeper down, something almost like fear, as if the guardian did not truly want to know the answer. Nightchaser pushed back his suspicions.

"The sky is dark," he replied truthfully. "I wonder where the stars have gone. I wonder if the darkness is consuming the world and whether DarkClan has a place in it."

It was not a lie, but Flamestrike shifted uncomfortably all the same. "Those are deep thoughts for such a late night."

"It's why I prefer to face them up here rather than in my nest." Nightchaser did not elaborate on the meaning of his words; if Flamestrike truly was to be trusted, he would be able to figure them out himself.

"This truth-telling thing is really going to your head, isn't it?" Flamestrike teased, flicking his tail over his littermate's ear.

Taken aback by the tom's sudden playfulness, Nightchaser responded by thumping the guardian on the back with a paw, nearly knocking him off the log. It felt almost like their training sessions in the forest, a mixture of fearful adrenaline and camaraderie.

And yet, underneath it all, there remained the tiniest hint of doubt. But how could he not trust his own littermate? His eyes found the long scar on Flamestrike's face, half-hidden by ginger fur, and then fell to the three claw marks on his shoulder. Those markings, hardly noticeable, were what separated them.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Flamestrike's gaze had suddenly turned cold.

Nightchaser blinked, his own face impassive. "I already have."

The guardian shook his head with a sigh. "Watch your back, Nightchaser." With that, he leaped down from the log.

"Oh, and Dawnstar said something about wanting you to visit the prisoners," the ginger tom tossed over his shoulder. "I think she plans to execute a couple for morale."

Even the darkness could not cover the sudden dread that filled the truth-teller, or the weary glow of his eyes.

//

The following morning, Nightchaser had no choice but to follow the orders. Dawnstar's watchful eyes remained on him from dawn until well past sunhigh, always narrowed and calculating. It was all Nightchaser could do to keep his fur lying flat; even playing with the kits did little to soothe him.

Finally, he called Birchfrost and Sprucetail over, both of whom had been resting after an early dawn patrol. They came to him without question and, even without any explanation on his part, followed him out of the camp.

"Where are we going?" Birchfrost asked once they were out of the earshot of the camp.

"The prisoner cave," he replied grimly. Hearing his tone, neither she-cat asked any more questions.

Nightchaser's spirits lifted slightly when he saw Jaystrike standing guard over the grate. The grey tom, like Nightchaser, had spent most of the past moon confined to the camp while his wounds healed. Now, with his apprentice still in the healer's den, the warrior did little but guard the camp and prisoner cave.

"The truth-teller's visit to the prisoner cave can only mean one thing," Jaystrike said sombrely as they approached. Nightchaser did not acknowledge his words; his heart felt like it had fallen into his stomach.

Standing over the grate, he found the amber eyes of the prisoner he was looking for right away.

"You," the truth-teller began.

"Ay, me," the emaciated tabby responded, curling his lip. "What of me?"

Nightchaser narrowed his eyes. "You know Roxanne."

The dark prisoner's face flickered, but only for a moment. "And if I do?"

"If you do, you will cooperate," Nightchaser replied. "Because you know what's good for you, and the other rogues."

"They're not rogues, they're alley cats," the prisoner spit before realizing he had given away his affiliation with the group. He growled deep in his throat, claws scoring the ground. "Now, that's not fair play, is it now? If you knew what was good for you, you'd let me up there and we'd fight this out, tom to tom."

Nightchaser flicked his tail dismissively. "Relax. We're on the same side."

The confusion, evident in the sudden falter of the prisoner's stance, seemed to pass through the entire prisoner cave. Slowly, the others joined the dark tabby beneath the grate, looking up with wide eyes.

"Same side?" a small tabby tom hissed. "How can you say that when you've kept us here, starved, for moons?"

"Perhaps they've had a change of heart," a tawny she-cat replied, shrugging. She seemed resigned to her fate already.

"Or this is a trick," a white she-cat growled, lashing her tail.

"No trick," Nightchaser replied. "Just a means to finally get you, and us, away from this place."

"And why would you want to do that?" the dark prisoner butted in. His amber eyes were once again narrowed in suspicion.

Before the truth-teller could answer, Sprucetail stepped forward. Her appearance hushed the prisoners below and they watched with fearful eyes as she lowered herself closer to the grate that separated the prisoners from the world above.

"You really believe we want to live this way?" she said, so quietly the prisoners stretched up towards her to hear. "You really think we capture and kill cats just for sport? If you have no faith in us, I suggest you turn down Nightchaser's offer and starve, or else be chosen for an execution. If you do, however, believe that we, too, would like to escape this cruel place and be free to live as we wish, then listen to what he has to say."

A couple of prisoners shuffled their paws, the white she-cat who spoke last among them. A few faces now looked up at them with the beginnings of hope written upon them; others still kept their skepticism. Many looked to the dark tabby, standing centrally in their midst, as if he were their leader.

"Alright," he finally said. "Let's hear what Nightchaser has to say."

The tabby spit out the name like poison, but Nightchaser didn't complain. If they were willing to listen, that was all he needed.

"Roxanne and her group of – alley cats, was it? – are planning to attack DarkClan on the night of the full moon, half a moon from now," he began. "With a group of rebels on the inside, we'll be able to take over the camp; we'll send a few rebels and alley cats to free you once we have secured it."

"After the battle?" the prisoner sneered. "What's the fun in that?"

Nightchaser growled softly, but kept himself calm. "Before, then. During. Doesn't matter, as long as you're freed at one point, right?"

The dark tabby considered his words, as if to continue arguing, but eventually nodded.

"Freedom," he said, scenting the air. "And a return to the alley cats." His tail lashed impatiently.

"Soon enough," Nightchaser confirmed. "I look forward to fighting alongside you..." He trailed off, hoping the prisoner would fill in the gap.

"Bronco," the tabby replied. "I'll be waiting, Nightchaser."

//

With Jaystrike continuing to guard the prisoner cave, Nightchaser, Sprucetail, and Birchfrost spent the rest of the daylight hours hunting. Under the cover of darkness, they returned to find Snailwhisker at the guarding post.

"It's one of ours," Sprucetail assured the others as they padded forward. Exhaling in relief, Nightchaser approached the grate, dropping two mice through the holes. Immediately, the prisoners swarmed the prey, looking very much like rats swarming crowfood.

"There's more," Sprucetail called down to them, dropping another two pieces of freshkill. These, too, disappeared within heartbeats. The last of the freshkill, carried by Birchfrost, vanished, bones and all.

"That should keep them sustained for a while," Sprucetail sighed. "I'll make sure to feed them again before the attack, to make sure they have enough strength to escape."

Nightchaser nodded, thanking the guardian for her foresight. Only she had had the notion that some of the prisoners were too emaciated to stand, let alone fight or flee.

"But what of Dawnstar's orders?" Birchfrost asked quietly. "She's noticed a change in the air and thinks a public execution will keep us in line."

The truth-teller nodded. "I know. But leave it to me, I'll speak with her."

Both Birchfrost and Sprucetail began to protest, but the black tom silenced both with a flick of his tail. He was the one who had started this entire movement; he would be the one to pay the price should Dawnstar notice anything. He couldn't risk dragging a prisoner into the camp, not now that he had told them of the escape plan, but he could keep Dawnstar from executing anyone with a few choice words.

He did not have to wait long. As soon as they arrived back in camp, he saw Dawnstar's speckled figure jump down from the Speaking Rock.

"Have you made your choice?" she asked impatiently, sending the two guardians away with a flick of her ear.

Nightchaser held her gaze. "Actually, I wanted to speak with you about this matter."

Her eyes held no surprise, as if she had already known of his decision. "Very well then. We will speak privately in my den."

The black tom swallowed down the bile rising into his throat as he followed her into the burrow beneath the Speaking Rock. The cold of the space matched that of her eyes and he found himself shivering, thoughts jumbling as he struggled to remember the words he had already formulated in his mind.

"Well?" The blue and cream she-cat watched him expectantly, lip curled in a slight sneer.

"Why kill a prisoner at this time?" he asked, spitting out what came to mind first.

Dawnstar blinked. "You haven't noticed the scent of deceit in the camp? Treachery in the air? Whoever in DarkClan has the audacity to believe themselves above our laws needs to be reminded of their place."

Nightchaser found he could not argue with this without giving himself away. He decided to take a different approach. "Yes, but why a prisoner?"

This time, Dawnstar seemed surprised. "Are you suggesting I kill a Clan member?"

The truth-teller hesitated, running through the various options in his mind. "There are many in the Clan who would willingly put their life down to enforce our laws. I suggest you ask for a volunteer, telling the Clan that they will be held up as an example of greatness. It will show the Clan how willing they should be to die for DarkClan."

The DarkClan leader did not respond for a long while. Then, a low purr erupted from her, rising in power until she shrieked with laughter. Nightchaser took a step back, the sounds coming from her mouth reminding him very much of his dream about Heatherstar, and how her laughter had followed him across the moors.

"No cat wants to die, Nightchaser," Dawnstar told him, licking her jaws as her cackling subsided. "Those who wish to are cowards."

He paused, taken aback. "But those who die for the Clan, aren't they greater than those who do not?"

"Perhaps," she said. "But do you really think this volunteer will wish to be an example of greatness? You don't believe those who wish to escape DarkClan will step forward first?"

Nightchaser, for a fact, knew no rebel would step forward – the time of the attack was too near. But, once again, he could not give himself away.

"I did not think of that, no," he replied.

Dawnstar rose to her paws and, suddenly, Nightchaser felt like a moon old kit again. "There is no escape from DarkClan, not as long as one is alive. The only escape from DarkClan is death and, even then, you are in Heatherstar's grasp. Death is the only way out; your mother knew that."

Her words hit him like a rock and Nightchaser suddenly felt like he was falling, falling away from himself and watching the scene from outside of his body. He reined in his scrambling thoughts in a desperate attempt to keep Dawnstar from seeing his disconcertment, but the calculating leader had already seen his reaction.

"Your precious mother," the she-cat spat. "So quick, so charming, so willing to work for the Clan. Lionmask mentored her to the best of his abilities and she seemed to be good at everything. Everyone was absolutely besmirched with her."

A fiery light had entered the blue and cream tortoiseshell's eyes and Nightchaser did not dare interrupt. Her claws had come out of their sheathes, leaving scores in the dirt ground as she continued.

"But she was just an experiment. Owlstar kept her to see if traitor's blood would run through her like it did her mother, but the whole Clan seemed to forget this as they watched Morningfire grow into a warrior."

Nightchaser's heart jolted into his mouth at the name. Morningfire. My mother's name was Morningfire.

"Only I saw the truth." Dawnstar paced around him as she spoke and the black tom attempted to make himself as small as possible to avoid the lashing of her tail.

"Only I saw that she could not be trusted, that she had the same kind of love within her that Sandfeather had. I could have told anyone that Sandfeather would betray the Clan ever since Milkfeather drew her away from the deputy race as a kit – they even named her after the traitorous caretaker. I was the the kit who sat and watched as Redclaw killed Milkfeather all those moons ago."

Faintly, Nightchaser remembered listening to this story, so many moons ago in the gorge of RockClan's old camp. Sandkit and Dawnkit, born of different litters, and one kit had the unluckiness to be drawn away from the bloodbath by a caretaker, branding them as a traitor forever.

"But no matter. Morningfire made her choice."

"What happened to her?" Nightchaser blurted out before he could stop himself. After so many moons of wondering, he was finally so close to knowing and it seemed as if Dawnstar meant to withhold the information.

The she-cat turned to him abruptly, disgust written all over her face. "You want to know what happened to dear Morningfire? After the pairings of the season were announced, her and Spiderthorn among them, she dutifully carried out her obligation to the Clan. It was after she became pregnant with you and your littermates that her loyalty wavered.

"As the pregnancy continued, she grew more and more withdrawn, hardly eating anything. The kitting almost killed her. Some thought she had asked Spiderthorn to run away with her and he had spurned her; others said she and Spiderthorn loved each other and the impossibility of being together made her spiral into depression.

"Regardless of the reason, her emaciation meant no milk for her kits and they slowly began to starve. She tried to eat more to save them, but after so long without food she could not stomach anything. The litter of three was taken from her and she returned to the warrior den.

"But she was no longer the same charming, successful Morningfire. She was slow and quiet and weak. She did nothing to get better now that her kits were gone; she did not even visit them in the nursery."

Dawnstar paused her tale, glancing over at the truth-teller. Nightchaser found his fur on end, his paws hardly touching the ground, as if he had been ready to reach out and grab the story out of the air. He could not decipher how it ended and he willed the DarkClan leader to continue.

"She was a coward," Dawnstar said quietly, each word deliberate. "A moon after the birth of her kits, she visited the healer's den and, when no one was looking, ate but two round, red berries. But it was enough."

"Deathberries," Nightchaser breathed, vaguely remembering seeing a sprig of them in the healer's den.

"The weak will always want a way out," she replied. "That is why tomorrow, before the sun sets, you will have a prisoner ready for me. No one is escaping DarkClan."

The hidden threat behind her words was not lost on Nightchaser.

// Longest chapter to date! There's quite a bit happening, so if you have any questions about the events that just transpired leave them in the comments (: