A.N: Sorry for the wait. Also, sorry for how short it is. I needed something building up to the next thing, and whatever.

"Their bleeding has stopped, yes?"

"Correct. He cannot hunt or he'll reopen his wounds, though."

Thistle's eyes flickered open. He felt a surge of adrenaline as he focused on the two cats standing over him. Thistle, letting his instincts kick in, leapt to his paws and drew his lips back in a snarl. He stood in a cavern, its musty scent enveloping him.

The smaller of the cats, an elderly she-cat, stepped forward and spoke softy. "Lay down."

Thistle's fur bristled. "No! Where am I? Where is Scorchberry? Who are you?" He spat, firing questions at the two cats.

"Shh," The she-cat meowed. "Lay down and then I'll explain everything."

As the adrenaline faded slightly, a throbbing pain crept into Thistle's body. He grunted and lowered himself to the ground reluctantly. The cool stone floor was alien to him, after sleeping on asphalt and wood all his life.

"What's going on?" He demanded, his tail twitching.

The she-cat sat back on her haunches. The tom sat beside her. "My name is Mossy Slope Where Rabbit Leaps; Moss for short," She rasped. "I come from the mountains."

"The mountains? You mean the mountains by the clans?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Yes." Her eyes softened. "The Tribe of Rushing Water were my…" She paused. "…My kin."

Thistle shifted, curiosity simmering beneath his fur.

The tom beside her cleared his throat. "You're probably wondering what that is, yeah?" He asked. He was quite old as well. He was very strong, it appeared; he had broad shoulders and a look of authority to him. His fur was gray and his yellow eyes glittered in the dim light.

"I am," Thistle replied, returning the old tom's stare.

"Before that, I should tell you that my name is Clawfoot," He twitched, clearly uncomfortable, "…And I come from DuskClan."

Thistle's eyes widened. "Really? You come from the clans?"

Clawfoot let out a light hiss. "Yes, I do. But I'd rather not talk about it."

"You have to take Scorchberry and I to them!" He exclaimed, ignoring Clawfoot's request. "I've always wanted to meet them!"

The gray tom narrowed his eyes. "Why would a street cat like yourself have any interest in the clan cats?" He asked. Then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I can't go back there."

Thistle felt anger bubble inside of him, but dismissed it and nodded briefly. "Fine. But at least explain the Tribe of Rushing Water."

Clawfoot curled his tail around his paws. "The Tribe is a group of cats that live in the mountains. They have a leader, and positions and borders just like the clan cats do. They're actually..." He blinked, thinking for a moment. "...Friends with the clans, I guess you could say. They aided them during the Great Journey." Clawfoot paused again. "Don't ask me about the Great Journey. I wouldn't know; I wasn't even alive in that time."

Moss laid her tail on Clawfoot's shoulders. The old tom was quiet, allowing Moss to speak.

"I was a prey hunter. I hunted for the Tribe."

Thistle sat up carefully, feeling the ache of his wound seep into his body. "Why did you leave the Tribe?" He asked.

"I was with my two of my fellow prey hunters, Echo and Shard. We were young. We had snuck away from the cave while everyone was sleeping to explore the territory, and..."

She was silent for a moment. She took a quiet breath before continuing. "An eagle came. We didn't hear it, or see it... And it got Shard. Echo and I ran after it... We ran, and ran, and ran, and we ran and screamed until we were exhausted and the bird was gone. Before we had realized what we were doing, we were lost. In the middle of nowhere." Moss murmured.

The golden tom flicked his ear. "And you couldn't find your way back?"

Moss shook her head. "Echo left to join the Tribe of Endless Hunting soon after I came here."

Though Thistle wanted to ask Moss about this other Tribe, he decided against it. Maybe he would find out later.

Clawfoot gave Moss a comforting lick before turning back to Thistle. "We can't really help you very well if you stay here. We are old, and we have not enough strength to care for you and your companion."

Thistle's ears pricked. "I nearly forgot! Where is Scorchberry? Can I see her?"

The old tom nodded. He pushed himself to his paws and padded into the shadows of the cave.

"While he fetches the she-cat..." Moss began. "...I should tell you that Clawfoot and I can point you in the way of the clans, if you plan on finding them."

"Really?" The golden tabby meowed. "Thank you."

Moss dipped her head. A shuffling of paws from behind the old she-cat caught Thistle's attention. Scorchberry appeared next to Clawfoot. Her paws stretched out in front of her, feeling her way forwards.

Thistle let out a quiet purr. "Scorchberry." He mewed. He got to his paws and leaned forward to lick the top of her head gently.

"Hi, Thistle." The tiny she-cat croaked. "Do I look bad?"

Thistle let out a mr-row of laughter. "Of course not. You look just as great as you ever have." His voice hid his sorrow. The she-cat's eyes were coated with leaves; herbs, Thistle guessed.

"When do you think we can leave?" Thistle questioned. "I'd really like to meet the clan cats."

A low growl rumbled in Clawfoot's throat. "You must understand that the journey is dangerous. We here are moons away from the clans. There are perils unlike any you have faced before out there."

Thistle stood up straighter, wincing slightly as a throbbing pain crept into his head. "We want to do it. You said yourself that you two cannot take care of us."

"That I did say. You can leave at sunhigh tomorrow. Moss will give you traveling herbs, and anything else you might need along the way." Clawfoot's gaze hardened, and he locked eyes with Thistle. "Taking care of Scorchberry will be a task. She is helpless, and you must help her to stay alive."

Scorchberry hissed quietly beside Clawfoot. "I'm not that helpless," She protested. Then her nose scrunched up, and she sighed. "I actually am pretty helpless, when I think about it..." Her paws scuffed the ground in embarrassment. "I'll try not to be too much of a bother."

Moss lifted her tail and beckoned Thistle forwards. "Before you leave, I need to open the world of herbs to you..."