Brightriver flew for about half an hour the finally arrived at a waterfall. She walked through the running water and stepped into a cave. She couldn't see anything. Just her and darkness. Her father sent her to this cave whenever he thought it wasn't safe. She came here at least once every moon because her father said it wasn't safe. She lied there for at least two hours until she heard wingbeats. She stood up and walked out of the cave. She one unfamiliar stallion but the other she recognized as her uncle Windblade. She ran back into the cave and lied down as if she were dead. Both of the stallions walked in and looked at her. "Is she dead?" asked the voice of her uncle. She couldn't see the expressions on their faces so she couldn't tell what was going on. "Of course not!" said the unfamiliar stallion. She knew that they had figured it out so she stood up strait and tall. Windblade grabbed her by the wing and pulled her forward. A sharp pain started in her wing. "I am Wirewing, overstallion of Sun Herd and you now belong to me" Hope you liked it!

Ashfeather marveled at the majesty of the Trap. "Why isn't there a herd here already?" she asked. Mossfire replied, folding his wings on his back. "The Trap is dangerous. I've been finding dying things al over. The Trap will not live forever. There are also lots of poisonous plants here." Stormflight interjected, saying, "How could we live here if the forest is dying?" Mossfire replied, "We can save the forest. We could find the root of it and cut it off." Graystripe looked at Mossfire. "Or we could find another place to settle, maybe get a herd to accept us." Mossfire sighed. "It was worth a try. We could leave for Sun Herd in the morning." Ashfeather nodded in agreement, and Mossfire led the other weanlings to a hollow log in the canter of the Trap. The foals slept there, cozy until they heard a twig snap outside. Ashfeather lifted her head, frozen for a second, then peeked outside the log. A wolf looked back at her. Ashfeather screamed, waking the others, and then she kicked at the wolf. It did no harm because her hooves weren't sharpened, and Mossfire leaped in front of her. The wolf struck Mossfire's wooded wings, sending a shock through the colt's body, but otherwise unharming him. The four foals flew past the tree, leaving the wolf behind. They flew over the trees, barely looking at their surroundings until they were sure that they had lost the predator. They landed on a bed of moss. "Where are we, Mossfire?" Ashfeather asked. Mossfire looked around. "I don't know," he said. "We're lost."

Mossfire flew up to greet the three incoming pegasi. Stormflight and Graystripe balked at the sight of Mossfire's wooden wings, just able to let the weanling carried by them fly. But Ashfeather kept her position, willing to be the spokesperson for her group. "Who are you?" She asked. "I'm Mossfire," Mossfire answered. "I live here. Do you want to be part of my herd?" Ashfeather looked skeptical. "What's up with your wings?" The answer tumbled out of Mossfire's mouth. He didn't even know it until he said it. "The Trap is my sire," Mossfire said. At this, Stormflight and Graystripe retreated even further away from Mossfire. Seeing her friends' discomfort, with some embarrassment, Ashfeather nodded her neck in affirmation. "We'll join your herd," she said. "What is it called?" Mossfire thought about this a little. Finally, he decided. "We are Forest Herd," he said.