"Tomorrow, this territory will be ours," he had told Sagefrost, a smile stretched upon his face. It was rare for Falconfire to display such joy, but how could he not? Minnowstar's utilizing my plan. She sees my genius, he boasted to himself. Those dammed heathens will be surrounded from all sides, and they'll be squashed once and for all. He relished in the serene feeling, watching the unfamiliar territory with immense pride. Even as he peered into the sprawling forest that looked dim and dreary with the overcast weather, Falconfire still felt great anticipation, knowing that LichenClan's decade long struggle to cleanse the island of sin would be half put to rest come the following day.

The two had dispersed, signaling Sagefrost away with instructions and a flick of his tail. "Check the border towards the stream. I'll mark the opposite direction," he demanded, gaze never leaving the molly's smokey form as she disappeared into the forest. The analytical tom always chose his patrol-mates with care. Like many other felines within the clan, Sagefrost was being tested, watched to see if sin still clung to her heart. He thought of her sentence to the catacombs all those moons ago, her sister's exile, though it felt wrong dwelling on the past. Not when the feline had clearly learned from her mistakes. The more they shared meows, the more Falconfire found they thought in common. "Let's see if we can create an advantage for ourselves," the
tom concluded. For he was eager to see how Sagefrost would continue to climb out of the shadow of her sister's banishment.

Lazy pawsteps, Falconfire ambled down the border in search of his 'prey.' His presence along the edge of their territory was a common one, taking every opportunity he could to hinder the enemy or deplete their herb stores. It showed in the countless scars that crisscrossed his pelt. But what did the abrasions matter when StarClan provided him the perfect opportunity to hinder the opponent before their holy battles. So when his ears perked to the sound of the sky's rumble, Falconfire didn't think to turn around. He only thought of StarClans glory, and how easy it would be to trip up a heathen during a treacherous storm.

He heard brambles and bushes shift, but it wasn't from the wind that heralded the upcoming storm. Instinctively, his form lowered to the ground, pupils dilating as two familiar forms approached. Thunder roared, and his claws tore lines in the dirt in anticipation. Falconfire didn't strike however. He only rose to his full height, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face. "Icesong. Woodfrost," he greeted, immensely familiar with the deputy and one of her strongest warriors. "I do hope you stay long. You heathens need the rain to wash the filth away." Taunts tell from his tongue as droplets began to fall from the sky. There wasn't a hint of doubt or fear in his mew. What was there to fear? When they would all soon be sent to the place they belonged. To The Dark Forest, where they would rot for eternity. Tomorrow. LichenClan would be victorious.