Larkwing's heart stopped for a moment. No... that can't be true. Not here, not now.

Stiff with fear, she stepped backwards until she bumped into the reeds. There they were, at least ten of them. Snarling and growling, the Shadowless roamed along the shore, casting such blank yet cold stares at the encircled she-cats on the peninsula that Larkwing shivered.

"What are we going to do?" It was Amberhaze who had asked this quiet question. Her ruffled fur made her look twice as big. "There are too many of them! We can't fight them."

That's the end of us. With all the strength she could muster, Larkwing suppressed the fear that wrapped itself around her like a treacherous creeper. She wanted to say something back, something that could calm Amberhaze. But that would be nothing but lies. They were inevitably trapped here, and even if they managed to escape, they would lead the Shadowless to the MoonClan camp and cause unnecessary suffering there again.

Fruittail pushed herself in front of Larkwing and Amberhaze like a protective barrier. The tip of her tail twitched and a strong, oppressive scent of fear emanated from her. "Something seems strange to me," she murmured slowly, as if she feared that every word she said would trigger the Shadowless' instinct to attack. "They're just standing there. Not attacking us."

A dark premonition crept over Larkwing. It sounded crazy, but the Shadowless had always been very mysterious. Tentatively, she peeked past Fruittail.

It was true, they were still creeping along the shore, some dangerously close to StarClan's Peninsula, but none of them stepped onto the small piece of land with so much as a paw.

"Just like back then," Larkwing murmured, "during the attack on MoonClan. They only attacked someone when they sensed hostility."

Amberhaze flattened her ears. "I still remember that! But I don't quite understand it. When they attacked our camp, they fought like normal cats."

"Shh!" Fruittail hissed in between. "Have you noticed their injuries? They were involved in a fight — again."

Larkwing wrinkled her muzzle in confusion. Now she saw them too, the dark patches of blood speckling the Shadowless's pelt. Some even had deep, long claw wounds.

"But who would they have fought if not one of the Clans?" Amberhaze speculated.

She and Larkwing exchanged a helpless glance before waiting for Fruittail to come up with an idea.

Suddenly there arose a long, agonised groan. Horrified, Larkwing pressed herself even deeper into the reeds. That sound... She swallowed hard to suppress the rising nausea. It sounds like a cat is suffocating!

"Did you hear—" Larkwing began. At the same moment another cry of pain sounded, more extreme than the one before.

Every single hair stood up in Larkwing's fur. Holding her breath, she searched the shore for the source of the sound. Her gaze lingered on a single she-cat standing slightly off to the side. Her small, petite body was covered in deep wounds. It was only faintly visible that she actually had an extremely pretty, blue-grey and cream speckled pelt.

For the third time, she opened her mouth into a strangled cry. Her jaws opened so wide that the lower one touched her chest. Then she began to sway, as if her legs were thin twigs that could no longer support her weight. Her eyes twisted in an unnatural way so that the whites were visible.

Finally, her head fell back on her neck and she collapsed to the ground. Shortly afterwards, something black oozed from her body — from her wounds, her ears, eyes and mouth.

Great StarClan, what is happening to her? Her flews pressed tightly together, she couldn't help but stare, mesmerised. Every fibre of her being forced her to turn away so that she would no longer have to endure this nightmare.

"That's not blood," Fruittail mumbled distraught, snapping Larkwing out of her trance. "Whatever it is, but that is not blood."

As if they were listening to a silent command, the shadowless ones suddenly all stopped. Slowly, they turned towards the motionless she-cat.

Larkwing stepped uneasily from one paw to the other. What's going on now?

Immediately afterwards she was able to answer her question for herself, because at the same time the Shadowless rushed forward and pounced on the grey-cream she-cat. Snarling, they batted each other away with their paws while the body disappeared under the masses of fur.

But as quickly as it had started, it was over. On shaky paws, the Shadowless retreated and fell back into their passive behaviour. However, the black liquid that had flowed from the she-cat had disappeared entirely without a trace. There were not even the slightest traces in her pelt or in the grass.

It was simply gone, as if it had been nothing but an imagination.

"Did they lick up that liquid?" Amberhaze breathed in disbelief. Her eyes shone in the darkness of the night as she stared at the dead Shadowless, her expression a mixture of disgust and confusion.

Wait a moment, dead? Larkwing felt herself getting as cold, despite her reasonably thick fur, as if she had been pushed into a lake of ice.

There it was again, the question of whether Shadowless could die at all. Back then, Elderpelt had unmistakably inflicted a mortal bite on that one shadowless cat. Her body had even gone limp, Larkwing remembered that very vividly. Nevertheless, she had jumped to her paws again and seemed alive — far too alive.

And then there was this tom that Larkwing had met the other day during her exploration of LaurelClan territory. If she had interpreted his fragmented words correctly, he had also been shadowless. However, he had also died, but unlike the she-cat, he remained dead.

Sighing silently, Larkwing closed her eyes. It was all so terribly complicated. They probably couldn't just throw all the Shadowless into a pile like that.

A somewhat rough bump against her flank made her jump a little in shock. "Now they're heading off in the direction of LaurelClan territory," Amberhaze reported.

Timidly, Larkwing took a few steps forward, careful to stay away from the shore. One by one, the Shadowless turned and walked away. No, that was wrong. They were more like shuffling. They barely lifted their paws from the ground, their tails hanging down like broken branches and their heads were as low as if they were drinking water.

With bated breath, Larkwing stared after them. Only when she was sure that they had all disappeared into the darkness did she allow herself a long, drawn-out sigh of relief. What an eerie encounter! Even though there was fortunately no fight, Larkwing still felt her heart pounding with anticipation.

"I think we just found out something very important about the Shadowless." Fruittail trotted to the edge of the peninsula, her blue gaze directed towards LaurelClan territory.

"Are you talking about this strange black liquid?" Larkwing wanted to know. Immediately, the image appeared in her mind's eye and she shivered with unease.

Fruittail turned her orange-black face back towards her and Amberhaze. "I'm also very worried about this and we should tell the Clans about it as soon as possible," the young medicine cat meowed. "But that's not what I was talking about. Their eyes — have you noticed something about them?"

Unsuspecting, Larkwing tilted her head. "Of course not," she replied slightly gruffly. "Why should I pay attention to such unimportant details?"

Quickly, Fruittail was at her side, her fur bristled. "Their eyes were empty!" she exclaimed emphatically. "There was no lustre, no life in them like I can see in yours and all the other cats'. I've only ever seen eyes like that in deceased cats."

Larkwing remained silent for a moment. Then she snorted in amusement. "You don't say," she mocked, forgetting for a moment that she was talking to a medicine cat. "Are you saying that the Shadowless are actually dead? That's mouse-brained! We've all seen them running around very much alive and fighting us. The Shadowless are supposed to be dead and yet look like this? No, not dead in that case, more like... undead — if that word even exists, but you don't believe that yourself, do you?"

Her snide tone didn't upset Fruittail in the slightest. Instead, she sat down, her bushy, black tail wrapped around her paws, and looked at Larkwing seriously. "Yes, it may sound crazy. Still, I'm sure something can't be right," she meowed firmly. "You've seen it for yourself. The Shadowless seemed so different from the last time we met. In the state we've just seen, I doubt they could fight. But still, they've done it three times already."

Slowly, Larkwing understood what she was getting at. "So what made them show no signs of hostility towards us tonight?" she pondered.

Helplessly, Fruittail twitched her ears. "Maybe we'll find out one day," she sighed resignedly. "However, I still stand by my hypothesis that the Shadowless can't really be alive — at least not as we know it. Their eyes, yes, even the way they walked was strange."

Larkwing couldn't suppress a purr. "They probably walked as if they were dead too — undead, I mean." I would never have thought that Fruittail would jump straight to the most supernatural and, above all, nonsensical assumption.

But Fruittail only narrowed her eyes. "That's nothing to make fun of," she reprimanded sharply. "Be that as it may, whatever the Shadowless are, we should hurry back to MoonClan and tell them about our encounter."

Larkwing was immensely happy about this suggestion. There had been something mysterious about this place before, however, now all she felt was fear and uncertainty.

Cautiously, the three she-cats trudged down from the peninsula. Larkwing came to a halt at a sufficient distance from the she-cat lying on the ground. Her flanks were still, she seemed to be dead indeed.

"What do we do with her? We can't possibly leave her here," Larkwing called to the others.

Fruittail let her gaze wander thoughtfully over the gray-cream she-cat. Finally she decided, "Alright, we'll bury her. MoonClan certainly doesn't want any rotting corpses on its territory."

Larkwing tensed reflexively when she heard the disparaging tone in the older she-cat's voice. She herself didn't know why it annoyed her so much. Actually, they should be glad that there was one less Shadowless.

Still, Larkwing couldn't help but feel a little pang in her heart. Who was this she-cat? Did she have a name, a history? And most importantly: why had she died so suddenly?

***

"What?" Nightblossom lashed her tail angrily. Her yellow eyes shone like two fireflies in the early dawn. "Shadowless on our territory?"

The MoonClan cats were just waking up, coming out of their dens one by one with sleepy expressions on their faces.

"What was that about?" Stripeface wanted to know. "Why are you howling around here so early in the morning?"

Nightblossom gave the brown tabby tom a sharp look. "Shadowless have been spotted at the Long Lake."

Immediately, Stripeface flattened his ears and crept backwards with his head down.

"Did I hear that right? There are Shadowless on MoonClan territory?" Hailstar leapt over, his fur ruffled.

Nightblossom was already opening her mouth, but Fruittail beat her to it. "Not anymore," she corrected. "Suddenly they appeared out of nowhere and surrounded us. Strangely enough, they didn't attack us, as you can see. And then, after a while, they disappeared again in the direction of LaurelClan territory."

Nightblossom eyed the RoseClan she-cats with a twitching tail. "I don't really know," the black she-cat began. "Why shouldn't the Shadowless attack? That doesn't fit in with their behaviour so far."

It was easy to see that the deputy didn't believe Fruittail's words. In this aspect, Larkwing could understand her. I think if I hadn't experienced it myself, I would have labelled it a lie.

Restlessly, Hailstar dug his claws into the ground. "No, I'm sure Fruittail is telling the truth," the grey spotted tom meowed.

"What should we do now?" a voice croaked. Larkwing turned round in astonishment and caught sight of Mottleheart. She flinched, startled. Oh no... The only elder of MoonClan and former medicine cat looked frighteningly thin. Her grey speckled fur was dull and there were more white hairs on her muzzle than Larkwing could remember. How old must she be? Back when I was a kit, she seemed very aged, but now she's so fragile...

Slowly and sluggish, Mottleheart trotted across the meadow. "Thank StarClan that there was no fight during this encounter. But what should concern us much more is the question of what the Shadowless were doing on our territory. And how can we be sure that it was a one-off incident?"

Hailstar returned the elder's green gaze thoughtfully. "I also doubt that the Shadowless would not come back." With a flick of his tail, he turned round. "Nightblossom and I will think about the best way to bring the problem to the Clan. No cat is allowed out of camp until everyone is informed about the situation."

With these words, Hailstar and Nightblossom trotted off.

MoonClan has a real problem. Larkwing shifted restlessly back and forth. They were hit by the first attack of the Shadowless, their Clanmates are probably held captive by them and now this.

Shaking her head wearily, Mottleheart sank down into the dewy grass. "I never thought it would come to this," she muttered to herself. "Would StarClan really let us to perish in such a way?"

Larkwing stepped uncertainly from one paw to the other. "This won't be the end of you," the tortico warrior meowed as resolutely as she could, although she couldn't hide her trembling. "MoonClan has existed for an infinite number of leaf-changes. You can't just give up like that!" Her tone became involuntarily more desperate.

Blinking, Mottleheart looked up at her. Her expression was confused and for a while she said nothing. Then she curled her tail upwards for a brief moment. "Oh, Larkwing! And Amberhaze, isn't it? How long has it been since we've last seen each other?" the grey speckled she-cat purred. "The last time, you were still tiny kits. And now look how big you've grown!"

Embarrassed, Larkwing blinked. Sometimes it slipped her mind that she was an adult now. "It's nice to see you again too, Mottleheart," she meowed warmly. Her green-blue gaze travelled to Hailstar and back again. "Tell me, you don't really think that MoonClan would perish, do you?"

A shadow passed over Mottleheart's green eyes and, sighing heavily, she laid her head on her paws. "By now, I don't know if my way of thinking is just pessimistic or realistic," she explained. "What I'm most worried about is Hailstar. I've known him since he was a kit, and he's led MoonClan for many leaf-changes without a problem. Now, however, we find ourselves in such a delicate, deadly time. We never know when the next stroke of fate will hit us. And Hailstar only has one life left."

"Wait, what?" Larkwing interrupted her abruptly. She had never thought about this topic before. At least subconsciously, she had always assumed that Hailstar would live for a long time. The realisation that he could soon die gave her a depressing feeling.

"You must not give him up so quickly," Larkwing urged Mottleheart. At the same time, she knew herself that Hailstar wouldn't live much longer, especially if the Shadowless were to launch another attack.

Mottleheart just shook her head silently. Not knowing what to say, Larkwing stepped back and looked around. For her, Hailstar had always been the leader of MoonClan. The fact that this might soon change didn't really enter her head. It just felt wrong.

Then Fruittail's meow tore her from her thoughts. "If the worst were to happen, how would Nightblossom cope with it?" she murmured thoughtfully. "That doesn't mean I don't recognise her ability as deputy. But is she ready to take over the Clan in this dark time?"

She's right. Larkwing's pelt prickled. There was no doubt that Nightblossom was a suitable leader. Still, she might be too overwhelmed to lead the Clan while death lurked at the corners of their territory.

Perhaps it would turn out as Mottleheart suspected. Perhaps it was the fate of MoonClan to perish one day.