Every day for the next quarter moon, Nightpaw trained under Hailwatcher's watchful eye, obeying each of his commands obediently. He visited the nursery twice more, telling the enthusiastic kits more about Acornpaw in greater detail each time; he helped Cedarheart, the healer, collect herbs without a single complaint; he even gave a telling to the apprentices when the first rainstorm of leaffall hit High Rocks and the thunder kept everyone awake.

    But every night, when he fell asleep in his warm moss nest, Nightpaw would open his eyes to find himself on the moors, listening to Sootstar's renditions of DarkClan's stories. Nightpaw found himself deeply engrossed in every detail the tom offered, especially when the StarClan cat talked of the Masked Uprising.

    Everything seemed opposite. Where Heatherfur claimed the Clans were weak because of their love, Sootstar argued that they were strong. InterClan relationships and taking in other, weaker cats would be the utmost disgrace in DarkClan; for Sootstar, it was a fact of life. Neither of those events went unpunished, as Nightpaw had been taught they did, but they did not warrant a death penalty in the Old Life.

    Yet, as Sootstar talked and Nightpaw learned, the apprentice felt the smallest shred of doubt hit him. How true were the StarClan tom's words? For that matter, how true were Hailwatcher and Dawnstar's? When posed against each other, the two sides of DarkClan's history seemed so different they could be two separate histories. It seemed the only thing linking them were names.

    It was this thought Nightpaw woke to that morning, blinking open his sleep-heavy eyelids to the reality of DarkClan. He stretched his jaws wide as he left the apprentice den, arching his back as he stretched. Then, he took his usual seat beside the den's entrance and attempted to groom his unruly fur, which rejected his tongue's flattening motions. Sighing, he gave up, gazing around the camp.

    Sootstar had brought him here in his dreams, showing him what a Gathering would have looked like. Every moon the three Clans would gather to share how they prospered, celebrating each others' victories and mourning each others' losses. Now, the Clan was filled with blank-faced, power-hungry DarkClan cats - or, that was what Sootstar said.

    Opening his eyes wide, Nightpaw surveyed the DarkClan camp, looking for any evidence of Sootstar's words. Outside the warrior den sat Swallowstorm and Thistleshade, talking about their last hunting trip with pride. Next to them, an alert Sleetfur received a report from the dawn patrol. Not far off, the branches of the nursery clicked against each other as the kits played at a deputy race, their caretakers looking on with protective gazes.

    These were the hard-working, determined cats Nightpaw knew, not the blank-faced ones Sootstar claimed them to be. A shred of doubt uncurled in the apprentice's mind, but he suppressed it, remembering how much he had already learned from the StarClan cat.

    "Observant as always, I see." Nightpaw looked up to see Hailwatcher approaching him, blue eyes bright and alert. The black tom flicked his ear in response, suppressing another yawn. He wondered if his mentor could tell how tired his apprentice seemed lately.

    Hailwatcher didn't comment, instead moving off at a brisk pace in the direction of SeaClan's old territory. The exhaustion left Nightpaw swiftly as he tried to keep up with his mentor, spurred forward by his curiosity. SeaClan's territory was the only one he had not yet visited.

    The smell of salt hit him first, then the sound of roaring. The wind turned colder than the already chilly leaffall breeze, bringing with it sprays of water and the cries of gulls. Up above, the birds circled lazily, beating their wings against the incoming storm.

    To Nightpaw's surprise, Hailwatcher did not stop when he reached the edge of the cliffs. Instead, the massive tom hopped off the edge, disappearing from sight. Reminded of the ravine in RockClan's old territory, Nightpaw padded forward to see stone ledges leading down the side of the steep cliff face. He tensed his muscles, then jumped over the edge.

    As soon as he reached the long rock ledge Hailwatcher stood on, the truth-teller took off again, following the ledge along the cliff face before disappearing into a tunnel in the cliff itself. It smelled of fish and salt, and Nightpaw wrinkled his nose at the scent.

    Finally, the tunnel opened onto a large expanse of rock, a plateau between the cliff they emerged from and the one opposite, where the tunnel continued. Nightpaw gasped as he turned to his right, narrowing his eyes against the brightness of sunhigh as he took in the view.

    The water rippled and sparkled far below, the sun leaving trails of yellow and white in the otherwise blue depths. A fish leaped up out of the waves before splashing back in, disappearing into the rolling darkness. The sea was endless, reaching past the horizon and further down than Nightpaw could see.

    Hailwatcher purred at his apprentice's awe, waving off their two guardians before settling down on the outcropping.

    "The Sunset Cliffs," he explained. "It's even more beautiful then."

    Nightpaw nodded, imagining a sky streaked with colour reflecting off of the water's surface. He hoped he would get to see the spectacle one day.

    "Of the three Clans of the Old Life, SeaClan was the most harsh," Hailwatcher continued. "They lived in a rocky, cold environment, always pushed to their limits by the strength of the sea. But, they still placed too much faith in StarClan."

    He paused, nodding down to the rocky beach below. "Here is where they held their trials. They believed that if a cat was worthy enough, StarClan would save them from the tide, or the predators of the sea."

    "Weren't they capable of saving themselves?" Nightpaw asked, confused by the strange custom.

    Hailwatcher snorted. "Of course they were. Any cat who survived did so through their own skills, not by the grace of StarClan. It's all a matter of perspective."

    The fur on Nightpaw's back rose, but the truth-teller continued speaking and the tom let out a silent breath of relief.

    "DarkClan carries on a similar tradition. All DarkClan's assessments and trials are based on skill. StarClan has no role in deeming our members worthy or unworthy - worth is measured by strength, by intelligence, by ambition. If a cat is foolish enough to put themselves in danger and unable to save themselves, they deserve to lose their life."

    Nightpaw nodded in understanding. "But what happens if someone is put in danger's way by another? A trial or assessment isn't voluntary."

    Too late, Nightpaw realized he was questioning DarkClan's way of life and he quickly closed his mouth, expecting a scolding.

    Hailwatcher's answer was immediate. "If they are unable to complete an assessment, even when the Clan believes them to be ready, they are holding the Clan back."

    The black tom nodded mutely, gazing out over the sea again. It's back and forth motion served to calm his racing heart as he compared Hailwatcher's teaching to Sootstar's beliefs that every cat was worthy of a place in the Clan, even if their only skill was running swiftly over the open moors. He felt like a wave himself, tipping back and forth between the two truths he knew.

    "Interfering in the natural course of life is forbidden in DarkClan," the truth-teller continued. "Not only because it keeps the weak in our ranks but because it shows attachment."

    "Attachment is forbidden," Nightpaw replied solemnly.

    Hailwatcher nodded. "An example of this exact weakness is Quailmask. He lived many seasons ago, long before I myself was born. He believed that kits and apprentices should be protected from the harsh realities of the world, that they shouldn't have to take part in watching killings or catching prisoners.

    "What he didn't realize was that keeping kits and apprentices from the realities of our world would prevent them from growing into strong, unflinching warriors and DarkClan would slowly fall apart.

    "Yet, he believed in his theory so strongly that when one of the apprentices he'd fathered wandered off, he trailed it to ensure it returned to the camp safely."

    "Apprentices are important to the Clan," Nightpaw pointed out, risking Hailwatcher's displeasure at interrupting a lesson. "Why wouldn't he follow it?"

    Hailwatcher flicked an ear in annoyance, but replied all the same. "If an apprentice does not have the capacity to return to the Clan, or the capacity to stop themselves from wandering off in the first place, then what use are they to the Clan?"

    Nightpaw considered this. Surely, if the wandering cat was a kit, the Clan would send warriors off in search of it? What made an apprentice so different?

    He withheld his comments, shifting into a more comfortable position as his mentor continued.

    "The apprentice wandered off to this very place. Awed by the sea, they did not realize they'd come too close to the edge of the cliffs and tumbled down to the Jagged Beach below. The tide was coming in swiftly and, wounded, the apprentice had very little hope of escape.

    "Quailmask threw himself down after his offspring, hoping to save them from their inevitable fate. But the tide came in too quickly and Quailmask, not knowing how to swim, was dragged out to sea. Two died that day when only one should have."

    The rhythmic splash of the sea against the cliff filled the silence between mentor and apprentice as the story ended. Quailmask's demise made Nightpaw wonder if he would throw himself in danger's way to save someone he knew. He pictured Flamepaw and Cinderpaw, their eyes wide with fear as the water came for them, but nothing stirred in his chest or mind and his paws remained numb.

    "I don't understand," Nightpaw said finally. "Why are you teaching me this lesson today?"

    "To remind you not to get in nature's way," Hailwatcher replied. "No matter the cost."

//

    "Cats of DarkClan!" Dawnstar's voice rang out loud and clear over the camp. "Today we see the beginning of a warrior assessment. Over the course of the next three sunsets, Minkpaw and Snailpaw will prove their worth by hunting for and defending our Clan."

    The dilute tortoiseshell jumped to the ground gracefully, landing before the apprentices. Nightpaw watched the two littermates from his position beside Hailwatcher at the base of the Speaking Rock; Snailpaw twitched his whiskers in anticipation, while Minkpaw unsheathed her claws and dug them into the ground. They seemed ready.

    "I will remind you that during these three days, you are only allowed to drink. All the prey you catch must be brought back to the Clan at the third sunset, and you will have your mentors watching you to ensure you do not eat any of it. If you find loners or rogues, bring them back as prisoners, and you will be greatly rewarded."

    The two apprentices nodded, rising to their paws.

    "Let intelligence guide your paws, strength your claws and fangs, and ambition your hearts. Your assessment begins now," she cried. Minkpaw shot forward, reaching the perimeter of the camp first and disappearing in the direction of the moors. Snailpaw was a little bit slower, taking his time and scenting the air before turning to the forest and disappearing into the slowly darkening night.

    Nightpaw watched them leave, wondering if either would break the rules of the assessment. He knew that if they did not bring back prey or prisoners, or ate prey in the next three sunsets, they would not be found worthy of a place in the Clan.

    Losing sight of Snailpaw's diminishing form, the apprentice looked up to find Hailwatcher's gaze on him, a meaningful look in his eyes.

    "This is so exciting," said an enthusiastic Cinderpaw as she approached her littermate. Cherrypaw trailed behind her, nodding in agreement.

    "Hopefully they will make strong warriors of DarkClan," Nightpaw replied loudly. Behind Cinderpaw, Hailwatcher's lips curled back in a slight grin and he nodded approval to his apprentice.

    "And if not?" Cinderpaw asked, gazing out in the direction of the moors.

    "Then they are unworthy," Nightpaw said, perhaps with more fervour than he meant to. Shock filled the grey she-cat's eyes and she flinched back slightly, as if this side of her littermate scared her. She swallowed once before flicking her tail at Cherrypaw and turning away.

    No matter the cost, Nightpaw thought, watching his littermate go. Her shape faded into the darkness of the apprentice den, just as Snailpaw's had into the night.

// Poor Cinderpaw, she has no idea what's going on with Nightpaw. With two mentors, I don't think even Nightpaw knows what's going on with Nightpaw. Let's see how long it takes for him to go crazy, shall we...?

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