The midnight moon shined faintly above as a white cat slunk out of her cave den. Her ears were pricked, carefully listening for any signs of others. The only other cats she could see were the pair of guards standing on duty at the camp's entrance.

Have we all become so misguided? When was the last time strange cats climbed up our cliffs?

One of the guards noticed the she-cat slowly slinking out of her cave. After quickly conversing with his companion, he trotted over to her, his eyes narrowed.

"Crystalstorm," he growled lowly. "What are you doing up this late? You need to sleep. You're on the dawn patrol tomorrow,"

Crystalstorm met the guard's eyes calmly. "I need to use the dirtcave, Ibexfoot," she explained. The mottled tom let out a sigh. "Fine, fine. I'll escort you there," he grumbled.

The white she-cat nodded as she followed the guard to the most remote part of camp. She watched her step as she climbed down a steep slope that didn't have much paw room.

The dirtcave itself was a long tunnel that dipped into a pit, where all the dirt went. However, Crystalstorm had no interest in using it. Beckoning Ibexfoot inside, she sat down. "Why weren't you at yesterday's meeting?" she asked sharply.

The guard looked away. "Flintsnarl wanted to speak to me and the other senior guards," he explained hastily. "He suspects there's something going on, but he's too dumb to realize what it is,"

Crystalstorm blinked, surprised. "What?" she breathed out. "But I thought we had hidden our plans good enough!"

Ibexfoot flicked his tailtip to and fro. "I guess not as well as we thought. Flintsnarl said that any traitors that were discovered were to be killed on sight," he mewed uneasily.

The long-haired she-cat thought carefully. Flintsnarl was a dangerous cat on his own. But his loyal guards would obey without question.

"We need to leave," she told him simply.

*****