The sun had never set more slowly. Twitching with impatience, Spottedpaw watched the orange disc as it finally sank below the trees. Would it seem odd if she went to her nest now? The other apprentices were playing a complicated game of chase that seemed to involve circling the tree stump twice and jumping over one of the elders basking in the last dregs of warmth outside their den.

“Get off me, you ridiculous kit!” snapped Larksong, striking out with her foreleg as Willowpaw zoomed over her rump.

“Leave us alone,” growled Mumblefoot.

Willowpaw yowled in triumph as she skidded around the tree stump and leaped on top. “I win!”

Spottedpaw trotted over to the elders. She felt bad for them, having their peace disturbed by her crazy denmates. “Don’t worry, they’ll be going to their nests soon,” she mewed. She licked a patch of ruffled fur on Mumblefoot’s shoulder, trying not to wrinkle her nose at his musty smell.

She lifted her head to find Goosefeather staring at her with his rheumy blue eyes. “Come closer,” he rasped. Spottedpaw edged nearer as the old cat peered at her. “I know who you are,” he muttered. “You’re the one who loves foolishly.”

Spottedpaw blinked. “What do you mean?”

Goosefeather turned away from her, wriggling to find a more comfortable place on the hard earth. “Your heart is blind, Spottedpaw,” he murmured, so quietly she could hardly hear. “That’s a lesson you will never learn.”

“What are you talking about? What lesson?” Spottedpaw spoke sharply, feeling a jolt of panic rise inside her.

Goosefeather let out a faint snore and Spottedpaw resisted the urge to prod him awake.

“Ignore him, little one,” rasped Mumblefoot. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time. Most of us stopped listening to him moons ago.”

Spottedpaw twitched her ears. Goosefeather was still a medicine cat. He knew things no ordinary cat could imagine. Had StarClan sent him a message about her?

She jumped as warm breath tickled the back of her neck. “You look sleepy,” murmured a familiar voice. “Don’t you think you should be heading to your nest?”

Spottedpaw looked up into Thistleclaw’s warm amber eyes. “I was just going,” she whispered.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispered back.

Spottedpaw padded over to the apprentices’ den, waiting for some cat to ask why she was going to her nest so early. But no cat seemed to notice as she slipped through the branches into the shadowy, peaceful den. She curled into her nest and tucked her nose under her tail. Her heart was pounding and she didn’t feel the tiniest bit sleepy, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to take slow and steady breaths, emptying her mind and letting it fill with swaths of green and black and soft, pale gray…

There was a sharp crack, as if something had stepped on a twig. Spottedpaw looked around and felt a moment of terror as she realized she had no idea where she was. She was surrounded by huge tree trunks, the tops lost in drifting mist. It was night and the stars were hidden behind branches, yet there was a strange gray light that seemed to be coming from clumps of fungus that grew on the trees and beneath the limp, half-dead ferns. The air smelled of damp earth and rotten wood.

There was a rapid thud of paws and Thistleclaw bounded out of the undergrowth, his pelt slick from the mist. “You made it!”

Spottedpaw blinked in relief. She leaned close to inhale his scent, but somehow he didn’t smell of anything; the stench of earth and woodrot was too strong. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered.

“Oh no,” Thistleclaw meowed. His eyes were shining and his fur crackled with tension. “This is real. Follow me!”

He whirled around and bounded along a narrow path between the trees. Spottedpaw raced after him, trying not to slip on the cold, wet earth. Something slimy seeped between her pads and she wondered if she had time to stop and lick it off. But Thistleclaw kept running so she gathered her haunches under her and kept going. The trees loomed on either side, dark and somehow threatening, as if they were watching Spottedpaw with unseen eyes. Where was this place? It wasn’t anywhere in ThunderClan territory, she knew that. Had they crossed the border into ShadowClan?

A tree root caught Spottedpaw’s foot and she stumbled to her knees. “Help!” she gasped.

In a flash Thistleclaw was beside her, nosing her up to her paws.

“I’m scared,” Spottedpaw confessed. “It’s so dark and quiet here.”

“You’re safe with me, I promise,” Thistleclaw murmured. He rested his muzzle briefly on top of her head, then took off again. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Up ahead Spottedpaw saw the bracken quiver and a tortoiseshell-and-white cat stepped onto the path. Her thick fur was ragged as if she hadn’t groomed herself in moons, and scars crisscrossed her broad muzzle. She walked stiffly as if old wounds troubled her, but her amber eyes burned like fire.

“What is she doing here?” the cat snarled, glaring at Spottedpaw.

“This is Spottedpaw,” Thistleclaw mewed. “She’s with me. Spottedpaw, this is Mapleshade.”

Spottedpaw stared at the she-cat, unable to speak. Her whole body was trembling with fear, and her paws seemed frozen to the ground. It’s only a cat! she told herself.

“She doesn’t say much, does she?” growled the ragged cat. “Good.” She turned and stomped along the path. “Come on, you’re late.”

Thistleclaw trotted after her, his tail held high and his ears pricked. Spottedpaw finally unfroze her paws and stumbled after them. If this was ShadowClan, what were they doing here? Her belly flipped over. Was Thistleclaw a traitor?

The cats ahead of her stopped abruptly and Spottedpaw almost bumped into them. They had reached the edge of a clearing filled with scrubby grass and divided in half by a crumbling, half-rotten tree trunk. Mapleshade jumped on top of the trunk with more grace than Spottedpaw would have imagined.

“Who will fight first?” she yowled, her voice echoing around the trees. “Come on, you fox-hearted cowards!”

To Spottedpaw’s astonishment, cats started creeping out of the bracken. Five or six of them, all different colors and sizes. She sniffed the air, trying to identify them by scent, but all she could smell was decaying wood and sodden leaves.

Mapleshade jerked her tail toward Thistleclaw. “You go first,” she ordered. “Houndleap, you too.”

A scrawny black cat slunk into the center of the clearing. Spottedpaw could see his ribs, and her instinct was to run off and catch him something to eat. Yet she hadn’t smelled a single trace of prey.

Thistleclaw bounced forward to meet the black cat. “Any particular moves you’d like to see, Mapleshade?” he called.

The she-cat bared her teeth. “Ones that work,” she hissed. “Nothing else matters.”

Thistleclaw bowed his head. “Of course.”

Spottedpaw blinked in surprise. Thistleclaw was acting like a humble apprentice! What was this place? The more she saw, the less she thought they were in ShadowClan. Houndleap looked like a WindClan cat, for starters, with his thin frame and hungry expression. There was a light brown tabby sitting beside the tree trunk that must have been a RiverClan cat, judging by her glossy fur and rounded belly. These cats were warriors, for sure, but where would they meet together like this? This definitely wasn’t Fourtrees!

At a yowl from Mapleshade, Thistleclaw launched himself at the black cat. Houndleap thudded to the ground but wriggled free with a hiss and leaped onto Thistleclaw’s back. In horror, Spottedpaw saw that the black cat’s teeth were bared and his claws gleamed long and silver as he sank them into Thistleclaw’s pelt. “Watch out!” she cried. Surely this was just a mock battle? There had been nothing to suggest that these cats were enemies.

Thistleclaw didn’t seem to hear her. He flexed his broad shoulders and flicked Houndleap onto the grass. Spottedpaw winced as he curled his lip and bit down hard into the black cat’s neck. Houndleap batted at Thistleclaw’s belly with his hind paws, ripping the soft fur. Thistleclaw flinched and Houndleap reached up with his front paws, clawing at the ThunderClan warrior’s eyes. Thistleclaw shoved him away, sending his opponent rolling over and over until he slammed into the fallen tree.

“No, stop!” cried Spottedpaw, but on the tree trunk Mapleshade paced excitedly, her tail fluffed up.

“That’s it!” she screeched. “No mercy! I want this forest running with blood! It’s a shame you didn’t fight like this when you were in WindClan, Houndleap!”

Spottedpaw stared at the black cat who had staggered to his feet and was glaring at Thistleclaw, flanks heaving and stained with blood. If Houndleap used to be in WindClan, did that mean he was somewhere else now? Somewhere with RiverClan cats as well? Somewhere like…

“Am I in StarClan?” Spottedpaw gasped. “But… how did I get here? Am I dead?”

“Of course you’re not dead,” grunted a black-and-white tom beside her. He turned toward Spottedpaw and she jumped when she realized that one half of his face was dreadfully scarred, with nothing but raw red skin where his eye used to be.

“Then why am I here?” Spottedpaw breathed.

The black-and-white cat shrugged. “Mapleshade brings cats here to train sometimes. Looks like she made a mistake with you, though.” He let out a terrible rasping sound, and Spottedpaw realized he was shaking with laughter.

“I… I didn’t imagine StarClan would be like this,” Spottedpaw admitted. But the black-and-white cat was watching Thistleclaw and Houndleap grapple each other again, and didn’t seem to hear.

In the clearing, Thistleclaw had pinned Houndleap down and was pummeling him with his front paws. To Spottedpaw’s dismay, the black cat didn’t even try to fight back. He lay there limply with blood trickling from one side of his mouth.

“Enough!” Mapleshade ordered. “Thistleclaw, you can fight Rushtooth next.” The tabby RiverClan cat stood up and dipped his head. Houndleap dragged himself to the edge of the clearing, not far from Spottedpaw. He needs comfrey, marigold, and cobwebs, she decided. Without waiting to ask Thistleclaw if she could leave, she whipped around and plunged into the bracken, mouth open to detect the scent of herbs.

Nothing. Not even a dock leaf. Spottedpaw cast about, running in a broad circle through the trees, searching for any sign of a stream where water-loving plants might grow, or a sandy bank that might catch the sun. The forest was the same everywhere: wilting ferns, mulchy grass, and those eerie glowing fungi. Spottedpaw ran back to the clearing, hoping she could do something with bracken to stanch the flow of blood, at least.

Houndleap was propped on his shoulder, licking the claw marks across his flank. In the clearing, Thistleclaw was thrashing on the ground with Rushtooth, more evenly matched in size and weight this time. Spottedpaw cast an anxious glance toward her Clanmate, checking that he wasn’t scattering too much blood, then trotted over to the little black cat.

“I’m so sorry!” she burst out. “I’ve looked for herbs but I can’t find any. I thought StarClan would have every kind of plant!”

Houndleap looked at her oddly. “StarClan? This is the Place of No Stars.”

Spottedpaw sat down with a thud. “What? But… but… what is Thistleclaw doing here?”

“Becoming a better warrior,” purred Thistleclaw, joining her. Blood dripped from a scratch on his shoulder and one of his ears was torn at the tip, but his chest was puffed out and his eyes glowed with victory. Behind him, Rushtooth crouched below the tree trunk while Mapleshade told him what a sorry disgrace he was.

Spottedpaw stared at her Clanmate. “You have brought me to the Dark Forest,” she whispered. “Cats are sent to this place because they are too evil to belong in StarClan. Why would you want to train here?”

Thistleclaw flicked one of his ears and a drop of blood struck Spottedpaw’s muzzle. “Cats might think something is evil just because it follows different rules,” he meowed. “You didn’t see anything evil here tonight, did you? Just courage, skill, and strength—more than you’ll ever see in one of your training sessions with Thrushpelt.”

“No cat would fight like that unless they meant to kill,” Spottedpaw protested. She could feel panic rising inside her. “That’s against the warrior code. And to me, yes—that is evil.”

She spun around and raced along the path, tripping and sliding on the muddy roots. She didn’t know where she was going; she just knew she had to get away from that terrible clearing and those bloodstained cats. Faster and faster she ran, until the trees around her blurred and shadows rose up to drag her down into the dank, foul-smelling earth…