The rain continued to pour throughout the night and well into the morning, signalling the end of newleaf. Soon, the clouds would part to reveal the sun and greenleaf would be upon them, hopeful and bright.

When the sun finally fought its way out from behind the dark grey of the storm, Nightchaser stretched up towards its warmth, fur still wet from the rain of the previous night. He had sat beneath the opening to the prisoner cave all night, watching for another sign of the stars and, as a result, was soaked through.

Mothpaw berated him for his actions, claiming he would catch a cold. But this was not the first time he had spent the entire night watching the sky, nor would it be the last.

With the end of newleaf came the deadline for Heatherstar's offer, to which Nightchaser still did not have an answer. Dawnstar's deal also loomed over his head, but he didn't give that one very much thought. With Sprucetail and the others on the inside, they would have no need to turn themselves in. And, once DarkClan had been defeated, Heatherstar would have no power over him either.

"You should rest before our escape," suggested Birchfrost softly, padding up to his puddle.

Nightchaser rose to his paws, stretching out his sore back. "I'll be fine. I watch the night nearly every day."

"But we need you alert and ready once the other rebels come," the grey and white she-cat pressed. "You are our only connection to StarClan and only you know what their wishes for us are."

The truth-teller could not argue with that, but shook his head all the same. "The one night where I let my guard down and fell asleep rather than watching the sky, Smoketalon and Flamestrike came to imprison me. I will not let my guard down again."

Birchfrost opened her jaws to argue but, seeing his resoluteness, heaved a deep sigh and retreated back to her place beside Cedarheart. He was dozing, head resting on his tabby paws. Not far off, Swallowstorm was comforting Snailwhisker, who remained curled up in a tight ball. Cinderblossom had her eyes closed but her tail tip twitched every so often, telling him that she was not asleep. Mothpaw had her eyes open, staring straight at him.

"What happens after?" she asked.

Nightchaser did not know which after she referred to, as there were too many possible outcomes to the coming night, but he did his best to answer.

"We start over."

This answer seemed to satisfy her, though the troubled look in her eyes did not dissipate.

He suppressed a shiver as he looked back up at the outside world, wondering what was in store for them. If Sootstar, and StarClan, believed DarkClan to be too powerful to defeat tonight, when would they be able to start their new life as a Clan again? Where would they go if not back to the home they had always known?

Nightchaser shook his head. StarClan had to be wrong; the darkest of nights was surely tonight, the night of the new moon. DarkClan would be defeated tonight and they, the rebels, would give any survivors the opportunity to join their new life as a Clan of the Old Life. No more executions, no more pairings, no more 'truth-telling' to scare others into their place. They would be a Clan of old, visiting the Moonwaters to receive messages from StarClan and refusing to let darkness claim them, qualities of compassion and kindness not a death sentence but an addition to the Clan.

And he and Wrenpaw could finally be together. No more need for distance and no more hiding. They would be able to spend the nights together after long days of serving their Clan. In a new life they might even have a family, little black and brown tabby kits that caused havoc and mayhem before becoming hard-working apprentices and fine warriors.

Nightchaser purred at the thought, but put it aside all the same. There was no use in fantasy when reality loomed so close and with the most unpredictable of outcomes. He settled himself beneath the grate, focusing on the hundreds of possible scenarios of the night ahead to help him pass the time. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts continued to return to Wrenpaw.

By the time red and orange finally streaked the sky, announcing the arrival of sunset, Nightchaser could hardly keep his head clear of all the thoughts going through it. Worry, fear and just the smallest hint of excitement swirled about him, making it suddenly impossible to sit still. Rising from his spot beneath the grate, he took to pacing about the prisoner cave. Mothpaw watched him anxiously.

Darkness fell quickly and the air of tension in the prisoner cave became more and more apparent as all colour disappeared from the sky. Snailwhisker had uncurled himself but continued to sit hunched over in a corner of the cave. Swallowstorm had given up on cheering the warrior up and sat with her paws neatly before her, tail tip twitching constantly.

When a shadow passed over the grate, everyone shrank back, eyes suddenly wide. Though Nightchaser knew it could not be Flamestrike or Smoketalon, as it was not yet moonhigh, he too moved away.

Instead, a grey face peered down at them, amber eyes bright. "I've got night watch. The others will be here soon."

Jaystrike disappeared as quickly as he had come and the prisoners slowly calmed. The air was more tense than ever as, impatiently, they waited for their rescuers. Through the grate, Nightchaser saw the cloudless, moonless, starless sky grow darker and darker.

The darkest of nights, he thought. Tonight is the night. It has to be.

They waited. And waited. And waited.

Their breathing created an echoing chorus within the cave, a mixture of calm and deep and ragged and short. Nightchaser's own came in uneven puffs as his heart rate quickened and slowed with his thoughts, the images in his head racing ahead of him faster than he could keep up with.

Finally, they all heard a scuffling above and, rising as one towards the grate that separated them from freedom, all of the prisoners perked their ears. The sound of running paws and hurried whispers reached them and a thrill passed through the waiting mass.

A black face appeared, joined by another black one and a tabby with big ears and copper eyes.

"The rebels just attacked the camp," Sprucetail explained hurriedly. "Crowpaw and Wrenflight came with me to come get you, but the rest of the rebels are in the camp. They'll have turned on DarkClan by now."

Wrenflight, Nightchaser thought, staring up at the tabby and white she-cat. Her gaze held his own and he thought he heard her give the smallest of purrs.

With much huffing and heaving, Sprucetail, Jaystrike, Wrenflight, and Crowpaw managed to shift the grate away from the opening. Then, they pushed a plank of wood through and the prisoners scrambled towards the edges of the cave as its end thudded heavily onto the dirt floor.

Nightchaser waited as the others scrambled up it first, nudging some of the weaker prisoners up on their way. He could already tell that many were in no condition to fight; others, though they looked weak physically, had a fire about them that told him they would fight regardless of their condition.

Finally, he stepped foot on the ramp and, Birchfrost's grey and white tail bobbing before him,  emerged into the cool night air. Sprucetail nodded to him, green eyes determined, and looked to the direction of the camp.

"DarkClan will be defeated tonight," she assured. "The cats Roxanne brought didn't have as much training as DarkClan's warriors but they'll hold their own, especially if we are on their side."

Bronco bristled at the she-cat's words, but one look from her made him hold his tongue. Sootstar's words echoed in Nightchaser's mind but, seeing the excited looks on everyone's faces, he pushed them back. As Sprucetail had assured, DarkClan would be defeated tonight.

"What's the plan?" Jaystrike asked instead, tilting his head towards the truth-teller.

Nightchaser's mouth felt dry as everyone turned to him, eyes ablaze. "We fight alongside the other rebels," he decided. "Do not kill unless you need to. We will fight DarkClan with the mercy they do not think anyone deserves."

"The Clan that imprisoned and threatened to kill you?!" Bronco hissed suddenly. "You plan to let them go?"

Nightchaser narrowed his eyes but it was Sprucetail who answered the tom. "If you want to stoop to their wicked level then go ahead. But we will not support you in your killing."

The dark tabby seemed taken aback but bowed his head. "Alright. I'll follow your plan."

"Then let's go," Sprucetail said, flicking her tail in the direction of the camp. The sounds of battle had risen into the air already. "Before it's too late."

The group took off, fifteen strong – the eleven rebels and four prisoners who had volunteered – running towards the DarkClan camp. Nightchaser found himself beside Wrenflight who fell into pace beside him.

"I thought your warrior assessment ended at sunset tomorrow?" he said.

"They ended it a day early," the she-cat responded. "Something about wanting us to be present for an execution."

"Ours," Nightchaser replied grimly.

"Not anymore!" The cheerfulness in her voice did not match the intensity of their current situation. The truth-teller had a sudden urge to feel her warmth and, as they neared the camp, he slowed and she followed his lead.

He wrapped his tail around her, bringing her head into his chest and resting his jaw between her ears. "Stay safe," he whispered. "I love you."

She jolted, taken aback by the sudden proclamation. Stepping back, she rubbed her cheek against his.

"I love you too."

Heart pounding even faster than it had been already, Nightchaser turned in the direction of the fight.

"Coming?"

Her jaw twisted up in a grin. "Right behind you."

They jumped into the fray together.

The writhing mass of cats within the High Rocks made Nightchaser shake with fear, but he leaped atop the nearest DarkClan cat all the same, recalling everything he'd been taught about battle. The she-cat turned to him, amber eyes wide, and the tom recognized Minkfur. Without hesitation, she lunged at him, jaws stretched wide.

Nightchaser dodged out of the way just in time, scoring her side with his claws. She shrieked in pain, landing unsteadily on her paws, and whirled around to face him again. Her breathing laboured, she struck out with her paws, dealing blow after blow. Hissing, the tom blocked her advances but his preoccupation with parrying her blows meant he could not deal a counter-strike.

Stuck in a never-ending wheel of strike and block, Nightchaser looked for Minkfur's weaknesses, hoping to catch her off-guard and break the cycle. He knew he would tire much more quickly and that would mean losing the battle. Unlike the rebels, Minkfur would not show any mercy.

Just as he felt his strength begin to fail him, a new figure appeared and threw themselves at the warrior she-cat. With a screech, she fell to her side and, rolling away, dashed off into the crowded clearing.

"Bramblepaw," Nightchaser breathed, dipping his head in thanks to the tabby.

"Bramblefire now," the tom replied, puffing his chest out. "Careful!"

His warning caused the truth-teller to crouch down just as a new opponent sailed over his head, right into Bramblefire's waiting claws.

"Good call!" Nightchaser yelled back. He could feel the energy running through him, strengthening his paws, and he searched the clearing for the others. Sprucetail was fighting Blackstrike not too far off, slashing at the tom's face fiercely, while Jaystrike hissed and spat at Pigeonfang. Wrenflight seemed to be doing just fine on her own, hacking away at Duskwhisker. Further along, two familiar grey pelts caught the truth-teller's eye, one clearly overpowering the other.

Adrenaline coursing through him he dashed for his littermate, catching Smoketalon's falling paw just as it fell towards Cinderblossom's belly. With a snarl, Nightchaser pushed the surprised tom onto his back, raking his claws down the tom's own stomach.

"Don't!" Cinderblossom cried from behind him as Nightchaser went to score his claws down the tom's sides. He turned to his littermate, a bemused expression upon his face. "He's not worth it," she murmured and, without a second glance at Smoketalon, turned to find a new opponent.

Smoketalon's eyes, full of hatred, had fixed themselves on the truth-teller. "You're lucky you caught me by surprise. I would have shredded you – and her too." The grey tom curled his lip.

Nightchaser, emboldened by his small victory, curled his own lip and leaned in close to his former guardian's face. "You're lucky she told me to stop. Otherwise, I would have shredded you."

The grey tom spat up at him but Nightchaser did not let it bother him. Smoketalon was injured enough that he wouldn't play a large part in the remainder of the battle; there were others, however, much stronger and much less wounded than he that still needed to be taken care of if the rebels were to win.

He had not taken more than five steps away from Smoketalon when a heavy weight fell upon his shoulders. Caught off-guard, Nightchaser rolled, hoping to dislodge his opponent. The weight disappeared just before his shoulders hit the ground, landing on top of him. Belatedly, the black tom realized his stomach was now exposed.

The ginger muzzle above him was very familiar and, with an ache, Nightchaser realized he had not thought about who he might face in battle tonight. So many nights spent training together and never once had he imagined they might one day face each other for real.

But Flamestrike did not move. He only stared, sturdy paws holding the truth-teller's shoulders to the ground. Nightchaser stared back, gold against amber, and was surprised to see the emotions swirling in his littermate.

The black tom broke first. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Flamestrike did not respond, appearing to search the truth-teller's eyes. "You're not really going through with this?" he finally said. "You're not really rebelling against DarkClan?"

Shock ran through Nightchaser. "Why are you not rebelling against DarkClan?"

"Because DarkClan is my home," Flamestrike replied. "My family. We grew up here. Why would you possibly want to leave?"

The truth-teller couldn't believe his ears. "Because DarkClan doesn't let you be yourself. Because DarkClan doesn't see that qualities like compassion and kindness are good and not weak. Because DarkClan kills for sport, they kill innocents."

"And DarkClan is strong because of it," the ginger tom hissed back. "Just look around you."

The two toms surveyed the camp together and Nightchaser saw the truth in his littermate's words. Where the rebels had seemed strong before they now looked to be in complete disarray. The alley cats and rebel group, unaware of each other's affiliations, had also taken to attacking each other in the frenzy. Heart racing, the black tom searched the clearing for signs of a familiar face – Sprucetail, Goosepelt, Cinderblossom, Wrenflight, even Bronco – but could not make out anything in the chaos.

"We can still win this," he replied, turning back to Flamestrike. "We just need to convince the others that a new way of life is worth fighting for."

"We?" Flamestrike scoffed, lashing his tail. "Have your stupid stories taught you nothing?"

Nightchaser blinked as his littermate's face came closer, suddenly aware of the claws digging into his shoulders. On Flamestrike's shoulder, the three scars left by Dawnstar's claws glinted almost laughingly. Those marks separated them, marks Nightchaser could never have.

"Love. Makes. You. Weak." The words were practically spat into his face.

It was all the proof he needed for Flamestrike's betrayal. Something jerked inside of the black tom, something he could not quite put a name to. It smouldered, quickly catching fire and racing through his veins and into his chest, his legs, his claws. With a roar and a might heave, Nightchaser pushed against the ginger tom, rolling out from beneath him.

"Love does not make you weak!" he hissed back, whipping around to face his former guardian. His former friend.

He did not anticipate Flamestrike's reaction. The ginger tom simply cocked his head to the side, looking past him. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Unwilling to turn his back on his opponent but curiosity getting the better of him, Nightchaser turned. Immediately, his heart dropped into his stomach and the need to retch hit him.

He could not look away as Dawnstar's cold, piercing eyes locked onto his and her jaws split into a cruel, blood-spattered grin around the limp body still clutched in her fangs.

// I'm so sorry but I just had to, please don't kill me >.<

But I must admit I'm curious: who do you think it is? And what of Flamestrike? Will Nightchaser be able to defeat him in their battle and, if he does, will he show the mercy he advocated for earlier or will the darkness get the better of him?

Ah, so many things I want to spoil but I just can't. I'll update Wednesday rather than Sunday so you're not waiting too long (: