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“Good,” a voice to his left said - Reedwhisker. “Now wait until the fish is within striking distance. Nice and easy...”

Hollowpaw judged the distance, anticipating the moment when the fish swam a bit too close to examine the plants near his paw. He struck, water splashing onto his head. To his disappointment, though, when he retracted his claws, there was no fish snagged on them. Mouse dung.

As his whiskers drooped, Reedwhisker approached and rested his tail on Hollowpaw’s back sympathetically. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Remember, it’s only your first day.”

“I’ll try harder tomorrow.” Hollowpaw told him, mood brightened by his mentor’s reassurance. 

With great timing, their hunting partners for the evening - Graymist and Troutpaw - emerged from the tall grass on the east side of the marsh. Troutpaw held a decent-sized salmon between her jaws, yellow eyes shining with triumph. She was slightly older than Hollowpaw, and had the skill to prove it.

“Amazing catch!” Reedwhisker complimented, to which Troutpaw beamed.

“No fish on this side of the river?” Graymist asked, addressing Hollowpaw. He shook his head dejectedly, embarrassed that his fellow apprentice had caught something, while he was empty-pawed. Graymist hummed in disappointment.

“Let’s head back to camp,” Reedwhisker suggested. “You apprentices can take your pick out of the fresh-kill pile.”

Hollowpaw exchanged a glance with Troutpaw as the four of them began walking together. “I bet that salmon could feed all of the elders,” he commented, and the she-cat smiled back at him; or maybe the fish wiggled and she was grimacing with the effort of keeping it still. All the same, her face made him laugh, and he liked to think that she would have laughed as well, had her mouth not been full.

“Nice going, Hollowpaw,” Mossypaw hissed. “Now all of the fish are hiding.”

“You probably scared every fish in the whole marsh,” Rushpaw crowed. 

Hollowpaw shook out his fur, standing on the shore of the river. He had clumsily slipped into the water while balancing on a stepping-stone, in an attempt to impress the older apprentices. Reedwhisker had allowed them to hunt together, close to camp, and Hollowpaw had hoped to win his denmates’ favor. He was the youngest apprentice, after all.

“You made the biggest splash I've ever seen.” Rushpaw was saying now, laughing mockingly. Hollowpaw felt his ears burn. “I’m not that big,” he protested.

“Are too,” Rushpaw sang.

“Would you both focus?” Mossypaw hissed, lashing her tail, and making both of the tom’s heads turn. “Our mentors will be real angry if we show up to camp with no prey. Keep watching the river,”

Rushpaw glanced back at Hollowpaw. “Maybe you should try your trick again. I bet it’ll work a second time,” he suggested innocently.

I’ll show him, Hollowpaw thought determinedly. The malicious undertone of his denmate’s words didn’t register in his mind; instead, he took the suggestion to heart, shaking his fur once more before leaping onto the first stepping-stone. He positioned himself for fishing, fully prepared to prove himself, before something shoved him from behind. He fell into the river once more, like a bad example of his first failure. Though half of his head was submerged in water, he still heard Rushpaw’s roaring laughter. 

He found his footing among the pebbles in the riverbed, anger and humiliation now pulsing through him. He was dismayed to see Mossypaw laughing as well, though she had acted stern only moments ago. It occurred to him that he was being cornered, and he felt like a mouse-brain for not realizing earlier.

“You know, we could just tell Reedwhisker that it was your fault we couldn’t find any fish.” she said with a cruel smile.

“I’ll tell him that you pushed me in,” Hollowpaw countered.

“Who’ll he believe?” Rushpaw asked smugly. “Two seasoned apprentices, or a kit?”

Hollowpaw’s heart sank.

Mossypaw turned away, beckoning for Rushpaw to follow her with her tail. Before they left, she told Hollowpaw: “I don’t know why the Clan deputy bothers with a cat like you,”

Hollowpaw dreamed of holding Mossypaw’s head underwater, watching her struggle to slither out of his grip, unable to breathe. When he finally let her go, and she gasped pathetically, the fear in her eyes meant that she would never belittle him again.

He turned around, and a warrior stood before him, his blue eyes bright.

“Hello, Hollowpaw. My name is Hawkfrost.” he said, smiling.

Sludge writhed all around Hollowpaw’s paws, the dark substance staining his fur. Strangely, the Place of No Stars’s river reminded him of home, however disgusting it was. 

Beside him, a ThunderClan apprentice waded in the “water”, her ears pinned back against her head. A larger dark tabby tom circled her, amber eyes gleaming. 

Hollowpaw had planned to follow the other trainees downstream, but the dark warrior’s expression made his stomach twist unpleasantly. As he watched, the ThunderClan she-cat’s paws were sweeped from under her. She floundered, slipping underwater, and Hollowpaw’s instincts reacted on their own.

He reached the two cats and dived, grabbing the she-cat’s scruff and ripping her free of the older warrior’s grip. They both surfaced, gasping for air. 

“Watch his paws,” he warned the fellow trainee, repeating Reedwhisker’s words from his first battle session. She nodded, and took a stance beside him. Together, they faced the dark-striped menace. Ducking underwater at the same time, they both struck out in order to unbalance their opponent. It succeeded, though Hollowpaw narrowly avoided a nasty scratch from gliding claws.

There was something highly satisfying about seeing the older warrior lose his footing and flounder, hissing and spitting with fury. He let out a hoot of triumph, his ThunderClan partner joining in. When they headed for shore and their eyes met, he said, “Not bad, for a ThunderClan cat.”

She wore a smile that quickly faded into a curt look, her fur still sticky with grime. “I could’ve handled him on my own. But thank you,”

“No problem,” he replied. “Glad to help someone who hates bullies just as much as I do.”

“Ready for a hunting trip today, Hollowpaw?” Reedwhisker asked, padding up to his apprentice as he was on his way to his den. 

Hollowpaw blinked. “Sure,” to his dismay, however, Reedwhisker scanned his eyes over the camp and continued, “I was thinking we could bring all of the apprentices. I’m sure they’ll all be up for it.”

Not if i’m coming along, was his dismal thought. Though he wasn’t keen on arguing with the Clan deputy, he suggested, “Why don’t we just bring Troutpaw? I... I saw Mossypaw and Rushpaw helping the elders change their bedding earlier.”

Troutpaw was the only apprentice who didn’t seem to hate him. He supposed it was because she was the oldest one - she was nearly a warrior now - and was more sympathetic. She was also an amazing hunter, and Hollowpaw wanted to learn from her.

“Sounds like a plan.” His mentor nodded, spotting the silver-striped she-cat emerging from the apprentices’ den. He bounded over to invite her, while Hollowpaw sat anxiously in wait. Troutpaw seemed to agree, following Reedwhisker and giving Hollowpaw a polite nod as they headed out of the camp.

He opened his mouth to talk to her while they walked, but she was busy sniffing the air for prey. He resolved to do the same.

“Why don’t you two head for the reeds?” Reedwhisker pointed to the west with his tail. “I’ll be right behind you. I want to check the riverbank here first. Troutpaw, I trust you to know the best hunting spots?”

If Troutpaw hesitated, Hollowpaw barely recognized it. “Of course I do,” she said. “Come on, Hollowpaw.”

He walked a few steps behind her, paws buzzing to chase down prey. When they had almost reached the reeds, Troutpaw looked over her shoulder and surprised him by asking, “What do you think of Reedwhisker?”

“...What?” he responded slowly.

“I mean,” she hedged, a touch exasperated, “Is he a good mentor? Does he ever talk about... the other apprentices?”

“He is a good mentor, and... I guess. When we hunt, sometimes he uses you as a good example.” Hollowpaw offered.

“Good to know,” she smiled, and he thought it looked mysterious. “Anyways, I want to show you something.”

As he watched her, curious, Troutpaw dropped into a crouch next to a clump of reeds. Her tail and ears stuck comically high in the air.

He fought back the urge to laugh, only because he was wary of how she’d react. Amusement crept into his voice anyways. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“A secret technique,” Troutpaw told him, rising from the crouch to sit back on her haunches. “Graymist taught me this, and wanted me to show the other apprentices, too. Mossypaw and Rushpaw have already mastered it.”

That news made Hollowpaw’s pelt prickle. “Can you teach me, too?” he asked.

She beckoned him closer with a paw, and looked around conspiratorially before whispering, “First, you do this...”

“I bet your warrior name will be Troutcatcher.” Hollowpaw told her over their shared salmon. 

“No way!” she exclaimed, eyes wide. “It’ll definitely be Troutflight.”

The image of the spotted fish flying in the air like a hawk made him burst into laughter. Troutpaw laughed, too. It was the most comfortable Hollowpaw had felt in moons.

When Reedwhisker greeted them as he passed by, the she-cat’s eyes glittered.

“RiverClan cats are weak.” Hawkfrost hissed. “Your true clanmates are here.”

Ivypool met Hollowpaw’s gaze, but he couldn’t read her expression. Is she worth more than RiverClan to me?

When Hollowpaw spotted Troutpaw heading for the fresh-kill pile, he bounded up to her. “Want to go hunting?” he asked. “We could practice your skills for your assessment, if you want.” At the moment, the camp was mostly quiet, aside from the bustling queens in the Nursery, and the snoring elders.

“Sorry... I have to go on a dusk patrol.” she shrugged, bending down to pick up a squirrel. From the other side of the pile, Hollowpaw saw Mossypaw and Rushpaw sharing a vole. They were staring.

“Well then... we have time,” he said uneasily. “The sun’s still high. We could go down to the reeds and look for - ”

He saw her tail lash once before she whirled on him. Before she even said anything, he felt the kinship he’d shared with her being washed away, like a dead fish in the river.

“I don’t want to hunt with you, okay?” She drew out her words. “We aren’t friends,”

Hollowpaw searched her face, startled and hurt. “Why? ... I thought you liked me.”

“I liked having you around,” Troutpaw stated, “because it was easy to win over Reedwhisker. I’m a better hunter than you, Hollowpaw. He was bound to see that.” 

The cruel tilt to her chin made familiar humiliation bubble in Hollowpaw’s gut. She used me. The only RiverClan cat I came close to calling a friend! The feeling amplified when he realized Mossypaw and Rushpaw were giggling, watching the drama unfold.

“I’ll have my assessment, and i’ll become the best warrior in RiverClan,” Troutpaw continued. “I can’t waste my time helping you. I have my own dream.”

“You won’t ever be a good warrior,” He flashed back, “If you always place yourself above your clanmates.” I have the Dark Forest warriors to help me, anyways. I don’t need you. I never needed you!

“I gave you a reason to decline your offer,” she said, condescendingly. “Isn’t that enough to make you go away?”

She didn’t give him the benefit of arguing further. Picking up her squirrel, she joined Mossypaw and Rushpaw. All three of them were staring at him, now, whispering and laughing. Embarrassment and rage and despair burned in his chest, and he turned tail, leaving camp in a hurry. No cat called his name.

It was really a shame when his Clan lived in the most beautiful territory around the lake, and he couldn’t even appreciate it for the life it’d given him. In the Dark Forest, he belonged. He was appreciated and allowed to make his own decisions. It was more than RiverClan had ever cared to provide.

Despite everything, she hadn’t lied about having a dusk patrol. Hollowpaw returned to his nest well after the moon was highest, in a state of mental exhaustion. The shadows of the Dark Forest swirled around his pelt, as if he was crafted from them.

“My three newest warriors sit among us tonight,” Mistystar directed the crowd’s attention towards the RiverClan divide. “Mossyfoot, Rushtail, and Troutstream.”

The three warriors beamed at the roar of praise that rippled through all of the Clans, but especially under the gaze of Mistystar and Reedwhisker. Hollowpaw thought he ought to have felt jealous about not receiving his warrior name yet, but he had other matters to worry about.

When Blackstar was finished speaking, the cats in the clearing began to group back to their Clans. Hollowpaw spotted the tabby pelt of Tigerheart slinking towards the ThunderClan cats, his eyes on a silver she-cat who hung back from the others. Ivypool.

He wanted to speak to them, as well, but a disapproving voice jerked him away from his thoughts. 

“Wishing you could hunt some ThunderClan squirrels?” Troutstream’s whiskers twitched. The rest of RiverClan was a few paces ahead. Apparently, it was ample enough room for her to berate him with no repercussion.

Hollowpaw didn’t engage her initially, beginning to walk away. She wasn’t finished, though, and followed his pawsteps. 

“I’ve seen you talking to those two. Tigerheart, and the ThunderClan one. Don’t tell me you’re disloyal.” Her yellow gaze bore into his back.

“Is there anything wrong with acquaintances?”

“Why waste your energy sympathizing with another Clan?” Troutstream asked coldly. “When a battle comes around, your little friendships won’t matter.”

Hollowpaw turned around to face her, with the most confidence he’d felt in a long while. “I’m trying not to be like you.”

Surprise flashed across her features.

“Hollowflight! Hollowflight!” The Dark Forest warriors cheered. Among them was Ivypool, Minnowtail, and Beetlewhisker, the latter two of which were his own clanmates; older than him, and not exactly his friends, but they held the heavy secret of the Dark Forest between them.

Troutstream’s betrayal still stung, and he liked to lash out his feelings in the form of unsheathed claws. He was always matched, claw for claw, and it felt like flying.

The morning after Beetlewhisker’s death, it rained. The sun still shone through the clouds, but it rained and rained. Hollowflight listened to the worried calls of his clanmates, who were desperately searching for the orange-and-white warrior, and felt a hollow sadness.

He helped Minnowtail comfort Icewing, Beetlewhisker’s mother. It was partially because he felt responsible for his death, and partially because he needed to protect Icewing’s secret; she was a Dark Forest trainee, too, tempted there because she was tired of being treated like a helpless queen. 

In the end, the older she-cat chose RiverClan, her family, over the Place of No Stars warriors. Minnowtail was troubled, and she leaned towards her birth Clan as well, though she was terrified that she’d be silenced much like Beetlewhisker was. 

Hollowflight didn’t share their dilemma. RiverClan, he found, meant nothing to him.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

RiverClan may have been harsh to him, but it was a community with tradition and history. He didn’t want it to be destroyed. Ultimately, that’s what the Dark Forest leaders wanted, however. 

Hollowflight was paralyzed with indecision. All around him, his clanmates were racing to defend their Clan, their families, their home. He didn’t have a Clan to swear to. He didn’t have a family, or a home that felt safe. What was there left to defend?

The only other option would be to betray the cats around him. He knew, deep down, that’s not what he wanted. 

So he threw himself into the fray. A Dark Forest warrior who was made of more shadows than stars barreled into him in the RiverClan camp, and was met with a battering from his paws. The sinister cat then made a break for it, in the direction of WindClan, and Hollowflight was ultimately too slow to catch them. 

Not only that, but it had gotten dark, the sun setting below WindClan’s moor. He cursed under his breath, hoping the Dark Forest warriors from WindClan had experienced a change of heart, and were defending their territory. Breezepelt’s malicious amber eyes appeared in his memory, and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.

Please, don’t let the darkness overtake us. All of us.

He couldn’t think for too long; the battle was far from over. He turned and headed back towards camp, but heard a familiar call.

“Hollowflight!” His ears swiveled towards Troutstream’s voice. He was relieved to see her bounding towards him from the lake’s direction; they may have had their disagreements, but if there was any reason for him to stay loyal to RiverClan, it was because of her. To prove to her that he could be a warrior. And any warrior RiverClan still had was a valuable one.

He stood as she approached, alert for danger. “It’s Mossyfoot.” Troutstream told him, breathless. “She needs help. Down by the reed bed.”

For a second, he feared she was deceiving him. Moons of being cornered by Mossyfoot and Rushtail under the guise of urgency had made him wary. Still, he could only nod. “Let’s hurry,” he said, breaking into a run with his clanmate following his lead. 

They reached the tall wall of reeds lining the lakeshore, the place he found so familiar. Troutstream hadn’t lied, as Mossyfoot was facing off against a huge brown warrior. Before they could reach them, Mossyfoot was pinned to the ground, her face smashed against gravel. 

Troutstream let out a caterwaul as she leaped first, striding ahead of Hollowflight. Her claws latched onto the warrior’s back, and she dug her fangs into their shoulders. It was a move fit more for a dog fight, but it was necessary to haul the monster off of Mossyfoot.

Hollowflight understood why Troutstream had called to him for help. He was a large cat, and this Dark Forest warrior was massive. When they reared back with a yowl, causing Troutstream to be thrown back into the reeds, Hollowflight felt a flash of fear at the sheer size of the monster’s teeth, which poked our from their muzzle. Still, he let himself be known, hissing, spine arching, and tail bushing.

“Fish-breathed worms!” They snarled, with a she-cat’s voice. Mossyfoot used the distraction to aim a kick at the warrior’s throat from her position on the ground. It didn’t quite connect, and she was met with thorn-sharp claws to her leg instead. Yowling, she scrambled away.

The Dark Forest cat went to swipe her claws across Mossyfoot’s pelt again, but Hollowflight tackled her, knocking her away. They ended up wrestling across the rocks, claws raking across each other’s pelts. The cuts burned like the bristly ends of his fur were being singed, but still, he fought, summoning the ferocity of every Dark Forest training session he ever attended. 

“Run, Mossyfoot!” he snapped, though he couldn’t afford to meet his clanmate’s eyes at the moment. “Get help!”

He saw his fellow warrior scrabble at the gravel beneath her paws, managing to get up and bound away, albeit awkwardly because of her injury. A flash of triumph at her escape gave him an energy boost, and he matched his enemy blow-for-blow. The she-cat’s ripped ears were pinned back against her head, hate gleaming in her green eyes.

Claws then scored into his muzzle, and he let out a yowl of pain, which allowed his opponent to overtake him. She threw him down with a angry snarl, then fastened her teeth into an area dangerously close to his neck. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Troutstream running towards them, recovered from her landing. The Dark Forest warrior saw her, too.

“Leave my Clan alone, you fox-heart!” the RiverClan she-cat declared heroically. When she leaped, only one of her paws outstretched, she neglected to protect her throat. It was cleanly sliced at the mercy of the larger warrior’s already-bloodstained claws, when she turned to deflect the attack. 

A yowl ripped from Hollowflight’s own throat, anguish overtaking him as Troutstream’s body was tossed aside, bright blood staining the rocks were she landed and did not move again. Adrenaline assisted him in shoving his opponent with all of the strength he had, scrambling to his paws when he was released and racing to his fallen clanmate’s side. He was close enough to see the life leave Troutstream’s yellow eyes.

His voice choked when he called her name, knowing she couldn’t answer.

“One less sniveling RiverClan rat to deal with,” the Dark Forest warrior said cruelly, stalking towards them. Her pelt was criss-crossed with gashes, and Hollowflight looked the same. Her psychotic saber-toothed grin made him wonder how he’d ever called the Dark Forest monsters his family.

Regret frosted every inch of his body. It was his fault that Troutstream was dead. It may have even been his fault that the Dark Forest warriors were here, trying to destroy RiverClan.

The massive scarred she-cat was prepared to end his life, as well, but was interrupted by the sound of pawsteps. In a dull, pained haze, Hollowflight recognized the shapes of Reedwhisker and Icewing sprinting towards them. The Dark Forest she-cat’s ears flattened, snarling, and her eyes darted around, fixing on an escape route across the shore. She managed to dart away before the senior RiverClan warriors arrived, turning and hissing one last time at Hollowflight.

Reedwhisker and Icewing did not chase after her. Icewing gasped in horror at the sight of Troutstream’s lifeless body. The whites of Reedwhisker’s eyes were showing, but he strode forward to press against Hollowflight, supporting his former apprentice as he tried to stand. 

“You’re okay, Hollowflight. You fought like a warrior.” Reedwhisker breathed, but the younger warrior barely registered his voice. He felt weary, and a gash in his chest throbbed painfully, like a heartbeat. His real heartbeat was easily slowing, and he felt dimly aware of the end. 

I’m proud of them, he thought. My Clan. I’m glad I could defend them, in the end. Every one of them has a warrior’s honor. Maybe I don’t belong among them, but i’d fight for them. I always would.

“Oh, no,” Icewing whispered, heartbroken. “Not both of them.”

“I’m sorry,” Reedwhisker told him, and it was the last words Hollowflight would ever hear before he left to follow the path of stars.

He finally slipped away, comforted by the warmth of the older warriors beside him. 

Stars dotted the dark blue sky, disappearing where the skyline met the shimmering forest trees. 

Today, Hollowflight stood where the stars were most visible. He had a very important task, but being a StarClan warrior didn’t mean his anxiety would magically wash away, as he discovered.

“You’ll be fine,” Troutstream told him, exasperated. Her silver fur glowed more than usual, and she was seated between him and a dark-furred warrior — Reedwhisker, the mentor he was ever grateful for.

“I hope so,” Hollowflight’s whiskers twitched. He knew Troutstream was jealous that he was participating in a very important ceremony, and she wasn’t. Better luck next time, he told her through his smile.

Beside them, Reedwhisker’s ears perked. “He’s here. It’s time.”

Troutstream touched her nose to both of their shoulders before she left the clearing. Wordlessly, Hollowflight, Reedwhisker, and seven other warriors gathered into a circle, facing a large outstretch of moorland. A young grey warrior appeared over the ridge of the moor, outlined by a rising sun.

Stars scattered across the trail of Mistystar, the leader of the group, as she approached the newcomer. 

“Jayclaw,” she said, warmly. “Welcome to your Nine Lives Ceremony.”

“It’s good to see you again, Mistystar.” Jayclaw’s eyes shone with emotion.

“Are you ready?” The blue-furred leader asked.

Jayclaw dipped his head. 

Mistystar stepped forward to rest her nose in-between his ears, her voice gentle as she said, “With this life, I give you persistence. Use it well to help your clanmates for as long as they will need you, and to face all challenges with renewed vigor.”

Jayclaw soldiered through the pain of experiencing Mistystar’s memories, as he did with the following seven lives. When it came time for him to receive his eighth life, Hollowflight stepped forward, with a reassuring nod from Reedwhisker.

“Hello, Jayclaw.” He greeted the younger warrior, meeting his clear blue eyes. “My name is Hollowflight.

I am someone who was tempted down a dark path. For a while, I believed my Clan would never be my home. But in the end, I was forgiven, and I learned to forgive myself, as well. RiverClan is a home any cat would be glad to have, and I can only tell you how proud I am to be standing before you today. So, for this life, I give you forgiveness. Use it well in times of judgement, and always cultivate the goodness within your heart.”

He touched his nose to Jayclaw’s head, watching as the warrior relived his memories. The pain etched into his features, Hollowflight knew, was from the anguish of not being able to save a clanmate in a time of need.

When Jayclaw opened his eyes, Hollowflight stepped away to be replaced by the last life-giver, which was Petalfur, the deputy’s mother.

After every life was received, Mistystar’s voice rang out: “I hail you by your new name, Jaystar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of RiverClan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; and live each life with pride and dignity.”

Jaystar lifted his gaze to the stars, closing his eyes and breathing in the feeling of having nine new lives. As Hollowflight watched the new leader fade away into consciousness, the sun warmed his face, and pride filled his heart. 

The Dark Forest is gone, and the Clans live on. I am a RiverClan cat, forged by the pull and tug of waves. And I will always follow my Clan, like a river along a centuries-old trail. I am Hollowflight, the warrior who was forgiven.