Looking up, Jayfeather saw the stars whirling around the sky, so fast that they became blurred trails of light. He tried to dig his claws into the thin soil where he stood, terrified of falling upward into the gaping emptiness.

Then he heard the scrape of claws on rock. Wrenching his gaze from the swirling stars, he whipped around to see the bulky body and white-striped head of Midnight.

“What do you want?” he demanded, trying not to sound as scared as he felt.

“Sol not kill Ashfur,” Midnight rumbled. “This you know. These cats chasing wild geese.” She lumbered closer to Jayfeather, starlight glittering in her small black eyes. “Truth must come out.”

“Why?” This time Jayfeather couldn’t stop his voice from quivering.

Midnight’s words fell like stones into a deep pool. “Anything else will destroy your Clan forever.”

“But—” Jayfeather began to protest, but the wind rose, whipping away Midnight’s words and his own, and the badger’s looming form, until he felt that he and Midnight and the stars themselves were being swept into a vast whirlpool.

He seemed to hit the ground with a jolt, and opened his eyes in the darkness of his own den. The air bore the scent of frost, and Jayfeather guessed that dawn was near.

Leafpool was shifting around in the bracken of her nest close by. “It’s time for the patrol to leave,” she meowed. “Do you want to come say good-bye?”

Jayfeather had said his farewells the night before, but he scrambled out of his nest and followed his mentor into the clearing. Most of the Sol patrol were bunched together near the opening of the thorn tunnel along with Firestar, Graystripe, and Squirrelflight.

A fox-length or so away, Jayfeather located Birchfall and Whitewing; their mingled scents told him they were pressed close together.

“You take care of yourself and get plenty of rest,” Birchfall told his mate. “Eat lots of fresh-kill, and tell Leafpool if you feel anything….”

“Shh,” Whitewing murmured lovingly. “I’ll be fine. I’m not the only cat who ever gave birth!”

Jayfeather padded past them and found himself close to Squirrelflight, who was saying good-bye to Brambleclaw. Unlike Whitewing, she was keeping her emotions firmly under control; Jayfeather couldn’t tell what she was feeling.

“Be careful at the sun-drown-place,” she warned the ThunderClan deputy. “Don’t get too close to the edge of the cliffs. They might give way again.”

“I know. I don’t want to go for another swim.” Brambleclaw was trying to sound cheerful, but Jayfeather could tell that it was forced.

“Brambleclaw, just remind me about hunting patrols,” Graystripe broke in. “The best places are by the old Twoleg nest and near the dead tree, right?”

“Right,” Brambleclaw replied. “Make sure the patrols remember that if they’re hunting by the dead tree they’ve got to be careful not to cross the ShadowClan border.”

“You’ll be fine, Graystripe,” Firestar assured the gray warrior. “You know the territory well enough by now.”

The cats who were staying behind edged backward as the patrol got ready to leave. A solemn silence spread over them. Jayfeather was aware of a sudden heightening of tension; no cats had ever set out on an expedition like this before.