"When All the Gods Are Gone"

[| ravenpelt |]

Ravenpelt was dreaming of ThunderClan territory.

Without thinking it to be strange, the black warrior raced through her dream scape of the night world, dodging between trees and leaping over fallen logs. She flashed past ferns and scrambled atop rocks, only pausing when she found one that would bring her closest to the sky. For reasons that eluded her, she did not trust the trees. Ancient as time itself, it was almost as if she had no wish to burden them. Besides, she was a cat, not a squirrel. Scanning the undergrowth, Ravenpelt drew in a long breath, allowing the forest scents to slide across the roof of her mouth and offer her a view only her mind could see, an environment in which her eyes were blind. Blinking her emerald optics, the ShadowClan warrior turned her face skyward, taking in the sight of the towering trees and ageless stars. Unbeknown to her, she was looking at a reflection of the past in their light, never truly seeing what they currently are. Countless light years away, she would be oblivious to the fact that one could be dying, folding in on itself to form a hole in time and space that would consume everything around in a vortex of shear force and power.

But all that was lifetimes away.

Looking back down to the forest, Ravenpelt blinked once more against the gloom, before leaping down from her rock. Landing gracefully with the help of her sinuous muscles and winding tail, the young warrior once again moved through the forest, running faster and faster…

Bright green eyes snap open; a short gasp escapes from between bared fangs. Her lungs feel like they are on fire, and there is a curious burning at the surface of her throat. For a moment she wonders what had happened, but a moment later she remembered. Everything. She tried to struggle, but couldn’t; whoever was carrying her was gentle, but also firm. She couldn’t move, much less escape. But the effort of the attempt was too much. A heart beat later her eyes closed, and everything went back.

…through the brush, dodging this way and that as she navigates the thick vegetation of the forest. ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she reflects, dimly aware of her location. But who cares? She could run like the wind! Move as fluidly as water, leap as high as…

She returns again, but this time she sees nothing and hears everything. Frantic mewing, the occasional yowl of despair. A few of them she recognized instantly, others required more work. Am I back in camp? she pondered vaguely, refusing to open her eyes this time around. Where’s Hawkstar, Brittlebreeze, Nightfrost? Glenpaw… Her body stiffens as she is laid down on a soft bed of moss, paws pressing at her throat, making her uncomfortable. …Smallclaw?

…the clouds and the sun! Sheer awe! Slowed time and non-existent physics, a cacophony of deafening silence and blinding darkness. Amazing! Abruptly Ravenpelt skids to a stop, freezing. Ahead of her, on the path, is a familiar face. The grass green eyes in front of her narrow, and the ginger face bears her fangs threateningly. “Go back,” the other cat commands, taking a step forward. ”This isn’t your place.”

”But, Firef-“

"End of conversation. Goodbye.”

Then Ravenpelt is back again, blinking tiredly at those around her. For a moment she hold the gazes, then her head stoops downward and she knows no more.






Notes; This thread is a branch of | Has No One Told She’s Not Breathing? |

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[small • claw]

She wouldn't die. He wouldn't let her. He needed her. I need you. The thought was painfully desperate. What else did he have to say? Everything that had ever meant anything to him had eventually been lost, and each time all the more wretchedly. She would not join the rest of them, because she was young, and beautiful and strong and she had her whole life ahead of her. He'd taken Ravenpelt on his back and he was moving at a swift pace, but not as fast as he could go; the black tom didn't want her to fall off. Like a shadow, he streaked past the frail ShadowClan undergrowth, leaving the branches quivering in their wake. He didn't say anything to her, as if she would even answer; he was concentrating on moving without falling, and without surrendering to the throb in his shoulder.

He felt like a letdown for allowing Emberstar to get away. If it weren't for Hawkstar, he might have... He clamped his teeth together angrily, that poor excuse for a leader, for a cat. Poor Ravenpelt... poor everything. He hated ThunderClan, and the fact that he'd hated them even before this fight only meant he hated them all the more. It was a scary thought... to know you wanted to kill them all. He wanted to tear their limbs off, throw them to dogs, drown them, choke them, claw their throats open... anything. He wanted ThunderClan dead, and he was bothered to sense within himself, the yearning to carry it out personally. Was he going insane?

Pushing himself into camp he didn't stop moving as he made a camber for Brittlebreeze's den. The taint of blood drift to his nostrils, and he scrunched his face up in revulsion. Where'd the peace go wrong? He remembered Emberstar telling him that Ravenpelt had started the fight, but would she have really started it without a reason? He found himself softening inside. Ravenpelt wasn't ruthless; ThunderClan must have goaded her on, even a little. Smallclaw of all cats knew how easy it was for Ravenpelt to snap, even over something small, unless there was another reason? The thought crossed his mind, a word, to be specific: revenge? He laid her down gently onto a moss bed secluded from Glenpaw and Nightfrost, who were near one another. He didn't know what else to do, he was no healer. He let a tense sigh escape his nose, before he shook his head.

He didn't feel like leaving her side, ever. Despite being in a safe, warm place, the black warrior was no assured her security and protection. The only way he would be consoled would be if he were there with her. "Ravenpelt?" He murmured, his otherwise deep voice unusually sorrowful. There was so much he wanted her to know, if she didn't make it through... the thought brought tears to his eyes. Was he a valiant warrior or was he a gutless kit? I don't care. I'd be whatever she wanted me to be. He wanted to move close to her but his instincts commanded he give her room to breathe. "You're not going anywhere." his tone was sharp, demanding. "I'll kill him for what he did to you... and I can't believe I let him get away," anger had seeped into his words, but it was still but a hushed mumble. "What's there to live for if I lose you? There's nothing. Nothing," and then softening, "You've become my life. Today, I fought for you... and it hurts to know I would have let any other Clanmate of mine die, but not you." He paused his emerald eyes, glazed with hurt, glanced off for a moment. "Not my Ravenpelt... " For an instance, his voice was fierce but it quickly quenched. He couldn't hold it anymore, the stress, the pain - both physical and emotional, he gingerly pressed his muzzle to her side, and let his tears douse her already blood stained fur. Even still, she was beautiful. He halfhoped she could hear him.

"And you know," he choked between tears; his fear was overpowering. If this was one of the last times he would see her, he wanted her to know how he felt. He didn't want her to just up and disappear. He didn't even know if he could live if she died... if he could keep going on, knowing the best possible thing out there was gone. "I fell in love with you that first night, at the Gathering," he even smiled a little, "you outmatched me in so many ways. I saw myself inside of you, I saw emptiness."

And he knew it was true, she'd been a shell, a hard shell, that needed work to be filled. "I don't deserve you, but I love you, and now I can't live without you... you have a beautiful soul, Ravenpelt, please stay strong..."

"I'm so sorry I let this happen... I hope you can forgive me." He shut his eyes tightly. He couldn't see out past the tears anyway. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have interfered with the fight, but he couldn't stop himself. He was only trying to protect her- because he'd lost everyone else, and she was someone left, someone he could protect and love. Against his conscience, he moved closer, pressing his warm body close to hers. And then he was silent.

-- edited in below --

Somewhere in the spans of stillness, he felt the impatient tugs of exhaustion. They seemed to be calling him, forcing him into drowsiness; his emerald eyes fluttered, willingly, until he'd fallen fast asleep beside Ravenpelt.

I hope she'll be okay.

Unlike normal, dreamless nights, the black warrior felt himself being sucked into an atmosphere that was foreign to him. Darkness, he could only sense darkness around him, but he could feel movement, like he was falling into the forest, from the heavens. Then his sense of balance was at rest; his ear flicked, but when he opened his eyes, he was instantly alert, and they were hard, like burning emeralds; they smoldered with caution. Where the heck was he? And why was he here... ?

He only remembered being in Brittlebreeze's den, lying beside Ravenpelt... Ravenpelt! His head swiveled around in all directions; side stepping rapidly, to scan the area around him. StarClan knows he wouldn't be able to see her pelt in this black abyss; or was it gradually growing brighter? Awe struck him as he turned his face skywards, where stars lined every pathway in the atmosphere; he noticed trees blocking out partial view, but their branches were, for the most part, barren. Blue was easy to identify between the kindling, and it was like some impossible reverie. Some fantasy... he knew then, that he was dreaming. The obvious question struck him, and his head calmly leveled. Was he in StarClan? Dreaming?

He knew he wasn't dead. He'd hardly been touched at the border fight. Or was he here for some other reason?

Slipping quietly through the undergrowth, he realized slowly but surely that this was Fourtrees. And just beneath a spruce lay a bundle of darkened fur. Was it really her? In his dream? If he really was in StarClan, why was she here with him, and why was he here at all ? Nobody died, right? He didn't kill anyone. By the scent, he recognized it instantly as Ravenpelt. "Wake up." he whispered, prodding her side gently. He didn't know why they were here, but he knew he wanted to find out. Some part of him was itching to know what was going on.

[| ravenpelt |]

A voice, softened by sorrow and anxiety, slips gently through the barrier that the she-cat had before believed to be impenetrable. “Ravenpelt?” Why was it that only his voice should carry through? Surely it meant something… Ah her mental voice then mumbled, turning in on itself and moving about in her head like a small snake, a wisp of formless smoke. There you are.

She knew Smallclaw enough to know that he would probably never leave her side, as limp and unresponsive as she was at the current hour. The battle had left her body in metaphorical shambles, her throat still emanating a dull throb that she was able to, with a bit of effort, push away and suppress to the cellars of her mind. She could sense the other warrior next to her vaguely, the only other presence that was really worth noting. She could have looked for the others too if she could have though. She tried, but failed. Nothing else would filter through.

But no, despite his ebony pelt, Smallclaw was as bright as a flame in deep space. He literally shone. She should have found that odd, a little more than strange, but it wasn’t. Not to her. Not in this place, wherever that was.

The fact that he would probably refuse to even visit the fresh kill pile both heartened and annoyed her. Surely he won’t starve himself? He couldn’t! No, Brittlebreeze wouldn’t allow that. Either he would order the stubborn fool to go eat or bring food to the warrior himself. She knew the calico tom, a cat that she still considered her apprentice in an awkward way, would take care of him. Take care of everybody. That’s who he was.

Smallclaw’s voice returned to her then, tightening as an anaconda does its prey. ”You’re not going anywhere,” he mewed, his tone now sharp as nettles. She could what was coming now, from a mile away. "I'll kill him for what he did to you... and I can't believe I let him get away…” She wanted to crack her tail over his head. Because you’re better than that! she wanted to hiss. Revenge… She couldn’t think of the right word, couldn’t grasp it, like trying to catch a glass orb covered in grease. Revenge…sucks. Look at me! She didn’t want Smallclaw, or anybody for that matter, to avenge her. At least not with death. Ravenpelt could not deny her love for a good fight, but she always kept herself in check to keep from going too far. Until now she thought bitterly. If this injury doesn’t kill me, Hawkstar will.

"What's there to live for if I lose you?” Smallclaw continued, his voice carrying all the hollowness of despair. “There's nothing. Nothing… You’ve become my life. Today, I fought for you… and it hurts to know I would have let any other Clan mate of mine die, but not you”. At this, her mind quieted. “Not my Ravenpelt…” She felt the tickle of his whiskers against her side, and she knew he was pressing his head against her.

“And you know,” he continued suddenly. "I fell in love with you that first night, at the Gathering," she could feel his smile. "You outmatched me in so many ways. I saw myself inside of you, I saw emptiness." How she wished she was awake! So she could look at him, smile too, speak! "I don't deserve you, but I love you, and now I can't live without you... you have a beautiful soul, Ravenpelt, please stay strong... I'm so sorry I let this happen... I hope you can forgive me."

He did not just blame himself for- Shoving the thought away, Ravenpelt found herself drowning in her own conflicting emotions. Again. She felt herself slipping away that, like a thick, black water was consuming her entire body. Am I dying? she wondered, feeling not at all afraid. Regretful maybe, but not afraid. Never that.

Then a voice, Smallclaw’s, but this time it was all too real. “Wake up,” he mewed, seemingly right in her ear.

And this time she could.

Her eyes snapped open, and with a startling surge, she leaped to her feet, head whipping back and forth as she took in her surroundings. In experiencing what she had in the past hours, seeing that ShadowClan camp had vanished only to be replaced by Fourtrees did not surprise her. Then, shifting her position, she beheld Smallclaw.

My mate she confirmed, almost involuntarily. She paused for a brief second, considering it. The, Yes, that.

Without hesitation, she bounded towards him, pressing her face against his. I’m going to regret this later she told herself. But to hell with it! I died.

Stepping back, she looked at him. “Fancy seeing you here, Smallclaw,” she mewed, unable to help the lopsided grin that no doubt graced her maw.

Yep, definitely going to regret this.

[small • claw]

it seems that i have been held, in some dreaming state
a tourist in the waking world, never quite awake

---

he couldn't take his eyes off of her. it was like he were staring at some figure of his imagination, some creature of divine and rare beauty; in a place like this, unfamiliar to his paws, he half-hoped she were. this starry scene resembled in his mind a form of the afterlife, and heaven knows, he was no medicine cat. even in the darkness all around them, small dappled streaks of moonlight paved pathways; every dew covered leaf glittered, seemingly to reflect the lion's share of starlight looming about the sky. the canopy of trees sheltered them in the coolness of the shadows, but it did little justice. wandering eyes would find the atmosphere endless and glitzy. in this strange place, his chest surged with warmth, as if he had been here, as if he... belonged here. a question to ponder, am i dead?

he definitely didn't remember dying, and to be frank, he only remembered being in brittlebreeze's den beside ravenpelt as she lay unconscious in her nest. he remembered thinking that he would lose her forever, just as he had lost sparrowflight and shadowclaw. he hadn't told her everything yet, but he knew he still felt that if he didn't, that he would most certainly never get the chance. despite his confidence and desires, unwavering, the doubts were creeping up on him that she might not make it out alive; they were horrible thoughts to consider, even unknowingly. shame burned its way through him and he frowned. the black she-cat bounded towards him without a seconds hesitation; she, a darker shadow among nature, he felt himself flush at her touch.

Fancy seeing you here, Smallclaw.

eh, her grin made him scoff. despite the distraction of the serenity around them, his suspicion resurfaced at her comment. "Where exactly is 'here'?" his deep velvety voice rumbled as he sauntered two steps towards ravenpelt, to press his sleek body aside hers. another question came to mind, was this all just a dream of his? meaning, was he just having a dream of being at fourtrees? it wasn't rare to have dreams of running through the territory, or catching a plump squirrel; though, none of his dreams had ravenpelt been in (he wished she were)... and lately, it wasn't rare to find him dreaming of blood, and hatred. strange that his dreams should suit the waking world, because honestly, he wanted to beat emberstars head in. mash it. make him bleed out. he pulled his head back an inch, his emerald moonstones narrowed; they were surprisingly dark despite the night prospect, darker than they should have been.

he needed to know. "Are we having the same dream?" it was a simple question that broke past his maw.

[| ravenpelt |]

While Smallclaw’s reaction to her touch made her heart leap, Ravenpelt also sensed a vibe of uncertainty emanating from the tom. Taking a step back, she eyed him closely, her emerald optics betraying nothing this time as she stared at him speculatively. Then, judging by his narrowed gaze and suspicious air, he had only just noticed where he was---where she had been, and still was. Ravenpelt wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or distraught over the fact that he was there, with her, in the middle of a forest in the middle of the night. Had something happened to him? He didn’t…die, did he? She shook her head quickly then, not caring if he was looking at her.No, she suddenly reflected, the train of thought fierce in its tone. I would know if Smallclaw was dead. Without knowing it, the ShadowClan cat sank her claws deep into the moist earth.

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” Smallclaw asked in a serious tone as he stepped forward to match her stance and press his fur against her’s. Taking strength and confidence from his presence, Ravenpelt looked around them, blinking and flicking her ears and tail. Upon first arriving, or awakening, or whatever it was that she had done, she had been startled and confused. Then, almost subconsciously, she made the decision that everything was okay. That everything was…right. But it wasn’t. Smallclaw was right, this was no time to marvel at one other. Just where in StarClan’s name were they?

Ravenpelt knew she was dreaming, and that the Smallclaw beside her was the real deal, so to speak. The black warrior knew she would sense if he was only a hallucination, another shadow in the forest, only this time with a face. She shivered briefly at the strange image before stepping away from her fellow warrior to sniff and paw lightly at the forest floor. The scents were there, but they seemed heightened . She didn’t know how else to describe it.

“Are we having the same dream?” Smallclaw suddenly mewed, his voice slipping into the night on quiet wings.

“I think so,” Ravenpelt mewed, her tone sure. “I mean… I’ve heard of it happening before to…” Medicine cats. Her brow scrunched together, wondering at it all, and refusing to finish the sentence. ”Maybe we’re just-“

The black warrior froze when a sound met her ears. It was a soft, rustling murmur, coming from some place to their right. She immediately dropped into a hunter’s crouch; tail flicking as instinct instantly took over. She turned soundlessly to Smallclaw and inclined her head towards the sound, silently asking for quiet. Then, as she had done thousands of times before, she moved forward through the brush.

It was eerie, following a path she had tread so many times in the waking world, but as Ravenpelt reached the source of the sound, her breath caught in her throat. There, below them, encircled by scores of starry cats, stood Brittlebreeze. Understanding crashed upon her immediately, and she whipped around towards Smallclaw. “His ceremony,” she whispered, eyes wide. “We’re watching it, that’s… That’s StarClan.” Her mouth parted slightly as she smiled, awe coming over her, but a second later it faded. She looked at Smallclaw again. “But why are we here?”

[small • claw]

[atrb=border,0,false][bg=1d2e22] It didn't make any sense why they would be here in the first place, since neither were dead, and neither were Medicine cats (nowhere near the sort), it didn't seem appropriate that they would be roaming lala StarClan land, as Smallclaw was supposing. It was the only explanation he could muster to name their whereabouts, but why... made no sense whatsoever. An agitated groan escaped the black toms throat as he scanned the vast darkness around him. The starlight and the moon glimmered from above, both offered a dim but sure beacon into the distance; they were alone as far as he could tell. I think so, I mean… I’ve heard of it happening before to… she sounded pretty certain of it, but like he'd figured previously, to Medicine cats. He shot her a practical glance, his lips pursing into a hard thin line. Maybe we’re just- That's right. Nothing. The shady warrior sighed, figuring that his mate had equally given up on decoding this confusing puzzle; however, he caught her movement from the corners of his eyes and returned full attention to her. She stalked silently towards the edge of the undergrowth, as if there lay somewhere among the reeds, a mouse or a vole of sorts. Ears perking, he crouched as well. The blacks of his eyes widening so much as to consume a majority of his iris's. He was prepared for anything, for the worst even. In this both familiar and mysterious place, he couldn't be sure of anything. Maybe a speckled lion would reveal itself from a hawthorns shelter, or a blue raven, like a missile, would shoot down from the sparkling navy heavens. Two completely unrealistic examples of his expectations, he was not prepared for, however, Ravenpelts exclamation. Her head twisted around in shock, and he could hear her excitement dripping from her melodic voice. His ceremony, we’re watching it, that’s… That’s StarClan. He hurried to her side, half disbelieving and half curious. Brittlebreeze's Medicine cat ceremony? Her words rang true, and he confirmed them with his own gems; there, in Fourtrees's clearing, stood their new Medicine cat, in all his youth. He was surrounded by a mass of glowing cats, some familiar, most not... Overshadowing the awe of the moment, Smallclaw couldn't help but feel pangs of sorrow beneath sour envy. He found his eyes searching through the crowd for a particular she-cat; of a dark soot colored coat and pretty amber eyes, but all to no avail could he detect her. It seemed that she either wasn't in the ceremony, or was escaping his line of sight. The latter made him itch to slide into ceremony himself, to sift through the gathering of StarClan... he was afraid though, that he would be caught, and the reason for them being here would be prove futile; the plans ruined by his eagerness. Recklessness. He needed to stop wishing for things that would never happen; to see his mother once more was nothing but vain fantasy. But why are we here? He didn't notice her look at him, he was too intent on the ceremony down below, but her words did not go unheard and his ear flicked. Well, there was no way to be certain unless StarClan told them themselves... jade orbs were smoldering with intent. There was a second interval between her question and his answer. "Why don't we just go ask them for ourselves?" It came out a husky growl; the seriousness in his intonation was evident. If nobody protested, then that was exactly what he would do. "There's only one way to be sure." He glanced at her sharply, his long sleek tail lashing from side to side. He pushed himself forward the slightest; the beginnings of his move. 755

[ƒireƒur]

“Ah, ah, ah, Smallclaw,” a voice whispered from the shadows, distinctly feminine, but with an edge. “Didn’t anyone teach you your manners? Barging in on anyone or anything is simply…distasteful.” From the darkness, a pair of emerald eyes glowed like two small coals, blinking slowly as it stared at the two young ShadowClan warriors who were crouched nearby. A few moments passed, but then a fiery orange leg stepped forth from its cover and a moment later it was followed by an entire cat—a lean elder warrior with her tail raised and fangs bared slightly in a smile. She looked at the tom for a moment before then gazing at the she-cat. “Hello there, Ravenpelt,” she greeted, her voice warmer now. “Welcome, young warriors, to the plains of StarClan.”

The StarClan cat came to a stop a few tail lengths away from them before sitting, her ginger pelt sparkling with dew and star shine. She looked back and forth between them for a moment, gathering feelings and thoughts and quick glimpses of the future. Ah, yes, she thought to herself. I’m glad to see that my best friend’s daughter has chosen a worthy mate. At least he had half a brain, unlike that blabbering fool, Dustcloud. What was wrong with that tom?

Pushing aside her female ranting, the StarClan cat spoke. “As for why you are here,” she mewed flatly. “It’s because you” she flicked her ears in the direction of Smallclaw “need to make a choice, and quickly.” The ginger she-cat narrowed her eyes. “You know what I am talking about. Just remember, time is running out.”

Then, as quickly as she had come, the StarClan cat began to fade, and with her faded the forest. Wake up, you two, she whispered silently. Time is not your friend. She knew what they would wake up with. Ravenpelt, confusion, maybe even bafflement. She would analyze it later. As for Smallclaw, he now knew that Brittlebreeze knew, and with him, Hawkstar.

Let’s see what you do.

[| ravenpelt |]

Ravenpelt narrowed her emerald eyes at the clearing below, fighting to think of the best choice of action to take next. What exactly should they do? Just watch, or try to get even closer? She bristled at the thought. Somehow, walking in on a ceremony as sacred as medicine cat’s seemed wrong. However, it seemed that Smallclaw had a different idea. He too was crouched, and a moment later they were side by side, peering down at the small gathering like a pair of hunters who had finally caught up with their unsuspecting prey. “Why don’t we just ask them for ourselves?” he whispered to her, his voice a growl, causing her ears to flick. The black she-cat turned, giving him a hard look as he too fixed her with a stony stare. “There’s only one way to be sure,” Smallclaw then said at last. To her horror, he pushed forward through the brush, looking completely prepared to walk right into the middle of the ranks of StarClan.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at him, moving forward in attempt to bar the tom’s way. ”This is not the time to be thick-headed, we need to--” Ravenpelt froze when her harsh whispering was interrupted by another voice, and it wasn’t Smallclaw’s.

“Ah, ah, ah, Smallclaw,” a voice whispered from behind them. Ravenpelt whipped around with a near silent hiss, her hackles raised. “Didn’t anyone teach you your manners?” it, or she, rather, went on. The voice was clearly female…and somehow very familiar to Ravenpelt’s ears. “Barging in on anyone or anything is simply…distasteful.”Ravenpelt took a step forward, prepared for fight, but stopped when a pair of green eyes, as intense and brilliant as Smallclaw’s, appeared from the gloom, floating like two small moons in the darkness. Ravenpelt stared, her own eyes narrowed, feeling uncharacteristically unsure of how to proceed. Then the figure emerged—a fiery orange she-cat, eyes greener than grass, and mouth parted slightly in a small grin, revealing a row of ivory fangs.

Firefur.

“Hello there, Ravenpelt,” she greeted, her tone much lighter then. “Welcome, young warriors, to the plains of StarClan.” The black she-cat could only stare at her old friend in wonder, somehow not surprised that, yet again, the elder warrior had chosen to show herself to the black cat once more. This wouldn’t be the first time Firefur had chosen to appear to Ravenpelt after her death. The ShadowClan warrior couldn’t help it, she smiled.

“As for why you are here,” Firefur went on. “It’s because you need to make a choice, and quickly.” She was looking directly at Smallclaw, causing the she-cat to look towards her mate with surprise. What choice? Her gaze was questioning, but she turned back to Firefur as the ginger she-cat continued. “You know what I am talking about,” she went on, still looking at Smallclaw. “Just remember, time is running out.”

Ravenpelt turned towards Smallclaw again, mouth parted to question him, but her vision was beginning to fade. Around them, the forest was crumbling. It was time for them to leave.

The black warrior whipped back around. “Firefur!” she called, but the orange she-cat was already gone. Running towards Smallclaw, Ravenpelt attempted once more to speak, but a moment later she was lying on her side on a nest of soft moss. She instantly knew that she was awake again, and as she drew in a long, painful breath, she knew that she was also alive. I’m in Brittlebreeze’s den, she thought hazily. Then, remembering her dream, she turned to Smallclaw, cringing in discomfort. “Wake up,” she mewed, her voice worried. What had Firefur been talking about? “Smallclaw, you great lump, wake up; we need to talk.” Her voice was an urgent whisper, her eyes wide.

[small • claw]

[atrb=border,0,false][bg=1d2e22] The ebony warrior felt his muscles tighten, his hind legs coil; ready to spring down into the hollow of Fourtrees... What are you doing? A hiss stopped him, and he turned his head to firmly glower; what was she doing? They couldn't just stand around and play peek-a-boo with the shadows. They needed an answer, and then maybe an escape route. However, Ravenpelt's body continued to stir, and the darkness of her fur (and the shape of her figure), overriding the murk surrounding them, was a silhouette against the ceremony down below as she stepped in his way. He let out an agitated sigh. "Ravenpelt," he started simply, ready to argue with her idea of reasoning. He considered briefly leaping over her to get down there... but if he did, she would be angrier with him afterwards. He decided ultimately against that strategy and groaned instead, rolling his eyes in turn. This is not the time to be thick-headed, we need to-- Then what was her proposal? We need to what? He quirked a brow at her. Smallclaw was expecting her to finish whatever she'd been griping about, but it was then that he noticed the same thing that had stolen her attention. It was a chuckle from the distance; a voice of age, the voice of a she-cat. Ah, ah, ah, Smallclaw, it then whispered. He responded with a rumbling growl. I started slowly, but gradually it rose... all claws unsheathed then, and he stepped in his mates way. "Reveal yourself!" He demanded, while his orbs scanned the area around them. Whoever it was... he promised that if they didn't come out from hiding, he would... Can StarClan cats bleed? Dumbfounded by sudden mystery, he lashed his tail. Didn’t anyone teach you your manners? Barging in on anyone or anything is simply…distasteful. It added, and heartbeats later two gleaming gems blinked out of the undergrowth. "Lectures in a dog eat dogs world? Oh, spare me." He muttered, ears flicking back. Olive beacons were hovering, until a dainty ginger paw stepped delicately out from cover; a body soon followed until a orange tabby she-cat was staring straight at them. If he weren't so confused and angry, his shame would have doused his antagonism completely. Whoever she was, he wanted answers, and he wanted them now. The StarClan cat ignored him, and fixed her gaze then on the sleek huntress beside him. Hello there, Ravenpelt, welcome, young warriors, to the plains of StarClan. Smallclaw might have been flattered by the welcome, but he was still miffed about her entrance, and his fur ruffled uncomfortably. The way she looked at him after that chilled his bones, and he felt his neck fur prickle involuntarily. As for why you are here, it’s because you need to make a choice, and quickly. Oh, StarClan no. He eyed her hard, praying to someone, somewhere, that she had better not go there. You know what I am talking about. Just remember, time is running out. Digging his claws into the earth beneath him, he watched, enraged, as the forest and the she-cat began to fade. He avoided meeting eyes with Ravenpelt. He already knew she would question him because of this. And what would he say to her? 'it's not important.' Only important enough for StarClan to confront him about choosing a side personally. Ugh. Damn you she-cat! It was two seconds later that he jolted awake, his paws tightened balls of fury. Wake up, There was another voice; he opened his gems, though they remained narrowed crossly. Beside him, Ravenpelt had finally stirred and was watching him with wide rays. He didn't want to look at her, but he couldn't help it. He was still concerned deeply for her health, and now he had to worry about what StarClan had asked of him. Contempt for both situations reflected, and waves of obstinacy rolled off of him. He huffed a groan, grunting. Unwilling to speak. Smallclaw, you great lump, wake up; we need to talk. He instantly wanted to play daft. It'd buy him time to decide what he would say. "Mmm, you're awake." he mumbled dully, mockingly, "Talk about what?" His tail flicked. 906

[| ravenpelt |]

The black she-cat emitted a frustrated hiss as the tom next to her avoided her gaze. Narrowing her eyes, Ravenpelt prodded him again, wincing in pain once more as she did so. Smallclaw was awake, that she could tell, but why wouldn’t he look at her? Fighting the urge to simply bite him to get his attention, Ravenpelt waited silently, eyes fixed on the fellow warrior, for a coherent reply. But he better not keep me waiting for long, she thought almost coldly, her attitude a product of her true feelings: concern for Smallclaw. Had he gotten himself into some kind of trouble? Was it ThunderClan again? A small growl, barely audible, bubbled up from her lungs. She’d tear every one of those forest idiots to pieces if they hurt Smallclaw.

He’d do the same for me.

“Mmm,” Smallclaw muttered silently, looking like he was still half asleep and dreaming that he was at Fourtrees, not to mention Brittlebreeze’s medicine cat ceremony. For StarClan’s sake, why had they chosen to show it to them? Ceremonies in dreams were private! Sacred. Ravenpelt flicked her ears at the black tom’s mutterings, dragging herself stiffly closer to his side. “You’re awake,” he said suddenly, his tone mocking. Ravenpelt scowled, but waited for him to finish. “Talk about what?” he asked a moment later, his thin tail flicking back and forth, his demeanor utterly calm.

Ravenpelt stared at him. “Talk about what?” she hissed quietly, keeping her voice down to avoid the sharp ears of others. “You’re not aware that we just crashed a StarClan ceremony? In a dream?” The black warrior flexed her claws and then lashed her tail, ignoring the pain that emanated from her throat and throughout her limbs. ”Don’t play stupid with me, Smallclaw,” she then mewed, her tone calmer as her eyes searched his face seriously. “Firefur said that you had to ‘make a choice’. What was she talking about?” She looked at the tom she had grown to love softly, her normally fierce gaze quietly questioning him as her sharp claws kneaded the moss beneath them both.

[small • claw]

[atrb=border,0,false][bg=1d2e22] There was no way to go back in time; what was done was done (even if he hated every part of it) ... and he would probably have to tell Ravenpelt everything about Midnighthowl and her ruthless plans. Why did StarClan choose to interfere with the deal? Was the black she-cat really such a threat that the Clan was in serious danger? Or had StarClan simply failed to notify Brittlebreeze, and ultimately decided that he and his injured mate were the best bet at getting ShadowClan to the nearest salvation (regardless of their warrior ranks)? StarClan had nothing to gain from forcing him to make a choice, if only they'd shut their mouths... he would have made a choice eventually. Though, how long did they have? The question sparked alarm in his mind, clouding his sensible contemplation; if the Coterie attacked, it meant that the cats that Smallclaw loved, his expression dampened, would be at risk. Ravenpelt would be at risk. To keep his end of the bargain and have Emberstar murdered, or to betray Midnighthowl and stop her in her tracks? He couldn't help but throw the question into the mix: how did he ever get this far? It wasn't supposed to happen like this... His claws dug into his palms lightly, and his moonstones narrowed. They were a gale of concern with all of his obstruction swirling together. He refused to look at her, in fear that she would see the secrecy and lack of peace that was a flurry in his flustered emerald gaze. Talk about what? You’re not aware that we just crashed a StarClan ceremony? In a dream? She hissed under her breath. He could feel her ravaging olive gaze burning into him, waiting for him to open up. But how much could he tell her? Could he trust her not to tell anyone immediately? Could he trust her not to totally freak out? Most importantly... could he trust her to trust him despite this whole ordeal? Rising to his paws, Smallclaw nearly loomed over her crouched state; and she looked absolutely pitiful with her throat wound veiled by crimson stained cobweb. "Ravenpelt, lay down." He growled, secreting his emotions, he glanced into her eyes; his distress was obvious enough, but the rest seemed to be struggling behind silver chains and bars. "You're still injured..." Quieter, he added. His deep voice was a rough whisper. Don’t play stupid with me, Smallclaw. Firefur said that you had to ‘make a choice’. What was she talking about? Then he sighed. If anyone found out he told her, Midnighthowl would probably be among the first, and she would make him suffer. If there was any cat he was afraid of, any single cat who struck even a sliver of fear within his chest, it was her. "I was training Whisperpaw, and some ThunderClan twirp stumbled into the clearing. Whisperpaw went after him, and instead of doing the same, I caught a scent..." Panic was escalating in his chest; this was it. There really was no going back. "I followed it until I was nearly at the carrion place, even over the stench of crowfood it was evident. Then I heard voices, and I should have turned back, I know, but my curiosity got the best of me." There was a pause; and in which case, his ears flicked backwards, flattening against his skull. There were many moments where he wished he didn't seek vengeance on Emberstar, and that he had never known about Midnighthowl's procedure. If he didn't, though, would they all really be doomed? If Hawkstar found out that Smallclaw knew (if perchance Hawkstar had any idea at all), he would be so insanely mad... I had my reasons for keeping it on the low down. That was true enough, but he realized only then, that they had all been the wrong reasons. For the wrong motives. Did that make him... evil? Like her? "It was a she-cat talking about destroying the Clans, and some rogue tom was there... Deathclaw or something like that," He murmured gently, his eyes scanning the den for eavesdroppers. "They mentioned having cats betray their Clans, and other rogues and loners getting revenge for being forced into starvation and war to survive because of the Clans, and... they caught me spying on them. I didn't know what to do. I was a coward; it was two against one, and I made up some excuse for them not to kill me. If I hadn't thought up some kind of bargain, I wouldn't be here right now, Ravenpelt. They would have killed me for sure," Versus what she would do when she got it all out of him, "I told her I'd keep my mouth shut if she... killed Emberstar, and then they let me go on that whim." Of course, the ebony she-cat would wonder 'who' this she was. He supposed he owed it to her; so it was a single name he uttered next. It broke past his trembling lips, quivering with both rage and fear, for a multitude of reasons. One being the fact that Deathclaw had scraped his forehead up regardless their convenant... "Midnighthowl," he breathed, "It was her." Paw steps sounded beyond the entrance to the Medicine cat den, and it was just then that Smallclaw grasped that dawn was pouring in through the presupposed secure cracks. A shadow paused before the lichen, before the mottled figure stepped in... the scruffy, muscular warrior fell silent. 1094

[| ravenpelt |]

When Smallclaw sighed, the she-cat beside him couldn’t help but feel a small pang of fear prick at her heart. She watched as his eyes glazed slightly, and she knew that he was remembering something from another time. Ravenpelt shifted unconsciously closer to him, ignoring the pain in her body to be closer to the warrior she loved. Pressing her pelt firmly against his, Ravenpelt continued to stare at his averted eyes, silently urging him to begin his story. She had a feeling that she didn’t want to know, but for the good of her, and what sounded like all of ShadowClan, and maybe even the whole forest, Ravenpelt knew that she had to listen. Silent, she waited.
About a minute later, Smallclaw began to talk.

"I was training Whisperpaw,” he began, his tone unusually tense and strained. “And some ThunderClan twirp stumbled into the clearing.” If it weren’t for the cloud of anxiety that was now permeating the den, Ravenpelt would have laughed at his terminology. “Whisperpaw went after him, and instead of doing the same, I caught a scent... He broke off for a moment, and Ravenpelt was shocked to catch the slightest trace of fear scent coming off of the black warrior. What could have scared him so much? "I followed it until I was nearly at the carrion place, even over the stench of crowfood it was evident. Then I heard voices, and I should have turned back, I know, but my curiosity got the best of me.”

Watching his ears fall flat against his skull, Ravenpelt leaned forward to give them an encouraging lick, trying to calm him as best as she could. Her heart, however, was less than serene. It pounded loudly inside her rib cage, and she wondered if Smallclaw could hear it. Her mind was in another state as well, pondering where the story could lead.

A few more thudding hearts beats passed, and then he continued. “It was a she-cat,” he mewed tightly. “Talking about destroying the Clans, and some rogue tom was there… Deathclaw, or something like that.” Ravenpelt’s face turned to stone at his words, but she said nothing. Only her claws moved, unsheathing into the moss, imagining it as enemy flesh… But who was the she-cat?

"They mentioned having cats betray their Clans,” he went on. “And other rogues and loners getting revenge for being forced into starvation and war to survive because of the Clans, and... they caught me spying on them.” Ravenpelt’s mind froze at the thought, having wishing she had been there to defend him; her friend, her warrior, her mate. “I didn't know what to do. I was a coward; it was two against one, and I made up some excuse for them not to kill me.” Ravepelt nodded in understanding, still not speaking. What would she have done, had it been her?

“If I hadn't thought up some kind of bargain, I wouldn't be here right now, Ravenpelt,” Smallclaw then told her. She pressed her ebony nose into his pelt reassuringly. “They would have killed me for sure… I told her I'd keep my mouth shut if she... killed Emberstar, and then they let me go on that whim.” Ravenpelt blinked at him in surprise, her mouth even hanging open a bit. Kill Emberstar? Not talk? This was hardly the Smallclaw she knew. Despite her feelings, she continued to listen in silence as he ground out the last words of his story, his voice a mixture of fear and fury. It was a terrifying sound.

“Midnighthowl,” he mewed almost breathlessly. “It was her.”

Ravenpelt couldn't help but admit a tiny snarl, fueled by the shock of betrayal and anger at the notion of treachery. A traitor? She opened her mouth to speak then, sensing the end of his tale, when paw steps sounded from outside the den and the scent of Brittlebreeze flooded her nose. She looked quickly in Smallclaw's direction. “We’ll talk…later,” she mewed swiftly and quietly, her own voice unsure, betrayed by her flying emotions, thoughts, and fears. A second later she shifted onto her side and layed down her head, resuming her original position as to no incur Brittlebreeze’s wrath. She kept her eyes open however, to let him know that she was awake, her head swimming with rushing thoughts.

[brittlebreeze ♠]

Of all the things StarClan could have said, they sent his mother to tell him something that he'd already heard too many times before. It was a message that played over throughout his mind, poisoning his senses, sending fresh jolts of anger and defiance to cloud his vision. It wouldn't have been so bad if the memories didn't fire up everytime Glenpaw was mentioned; flashbacks of their happiness shattered within the blink of an eye. Destiny was like a thorn stuck deep into his dirt-covered pads; it went to the bone, fastened firmly to his very mallow. Brittlebreeze wished desperately for some sort of vessel, that would free him of his hardships; taking this new sour evil within him far away, to leave behind who he once was. It was a sad twist, because he liked what he did for his Clan now.

He saved lives instead of tearing them away; how could something so beautiful be so callous? This was the price he had to pay, that all Medicine cats paid, for the safety of their Clans. It was the acceding sacrifice they could never escape. Despite this familiar and hurtful revelation, there were lonely nights that the mottled Medicine cat longed for Glenpaw to walk in his dreams instead of his ancestors. Maybe then their love could be feasible... he knew she loved him still. She had to. How could someone throw away moons worth of recollections?

Beyond the gliding figure, the sun was rising steadily over WindClans hillside. Its rays shimmered about the distance, warming the moorland, signaling the rabbits to fleet back and forth. They were probably scavenging for food, no doubt, he assumed. If only he could see them, he would know for sure. First light streaked through ShadowClans territory next, dodging the pines in its quest to touch every square foot of land. Willingly, Brittlebreeze stopped before it; his patched hide soaking up every bit of the heat that he possibly could. It didn't make him feel better, but it cleared his mind of majority of the unnecessary troubles that hindered him... a crow squawked as it fluttered between the trees. Resuming his travels, Brittlebreeze pelted over the lingering gap blocking him from camp. He covered it in a matter of minutes; catching whiffs of cat scent on his way through. Presuming that the dawn patrols had left already...

By the time he had reached camp, he was panting; he noticed how empty the clearing was, and decided that everyone else was either out or sleeping. It was plausible, at least... he hadn't kept up with any of the warrior gossip, or their plans for patrols. It didn't concern him anymore. Having forgotten to stop for herbs, the prophecy hooked him once more with its frantic talons, seizing him in its grasp. He was a prisoner, and unless he figured out where to find this 'Tobias', he would remain a prisoner, and they would be stuck questioning the same conflicts until the Coterie descended. Ultimately, Hawkstars words resurfaced, Ravenpelt might know, she used to talk to him so much, about so much. She might have the answer to these 'clocks'. And that was it. Knowing the black warrior would be in his den, she wouldn't be able to escape him as he prodded her urgently for answers. It was time they moved onwards without anymore delays; it was do or die, figure out the prophecy or be destroyed. His call.

The sun was barred from camp just then; the tangle of thorns and bushes masking them from the dancing light... strained murmurs sounded from inside, and they were clouded by the low tone in which they were spoken. Suspicious, he sauntered inside, fixing his hollow, icy gaze on Ravenpelt and her mate. He wondered idly if Smallclaw had stayed with her all through the night... almost annoyed, he flicked his tail tip back and forth. "Don't you have any patrols?" A speck inside of Brittlebreeze wished he did, he didn't want Smallclaw poking his nose where it wasn't welcomed. "Trust me, she won't need a body guard all day and all night... go wait outside or something, I need to speak to her in private." There was a pause as he fixed his moonstones on the scruffy tom; the emotions flickering beyond his glassy orbs were hard and steely. He wasn't in the mood to be patient. "Go make yourself useful." He breathed out in a crispy whisper. He didn't want Smallclaw getting any ideas about trouble, ShadowClan was already aware of his quick-to-fight attitude, his first solution would be to slash and hack.

Turning to the she-cat, he was surprised that she had stayed in that position while he was gone. StarClan knew that she wasn't one to wallow in a Medicine cats den, wasting away, as she would put it. "You'll be fine, won't you?" Of course she would. Or was she a helpless kit?

904

[small • claw]

[atrb=border,0,false][bg=1d2e22] Before Ravenpelt scrambled back down into her nest, he caught her faint glance and heard her mew. We’ll talk…later, He may have been ruffled by the thought of Midnighthowl finding out that he broke their deal, but in Brittlebreeze's den with Ravenpelt, they were as safe as could be. When the Medicine cat entered, Smallclaw was quick to muffle his fear scent by waves of annoyance in its stead; Don't you have any patrols? the mottled tom muttered. It would have been nice right then to have had any, but one, he didn't feel comfortable leaving Ravenpelt to rot in here all alone for even a week, much less a whole day. And after telling her about the deal, said bargain that StarClan forced him to spit out, he definitely despised the thought of his mate contemplating the jumble of confusing visions by herself. She could do something reckless, like tell her father in the heat of the moment. If that happened, Smallclaw might as well lie down on the Thunderpath and wait to be destroyed by an oncoming monster... Hawkstars anger would probably compare. "Fortunately for me, no." He responded just as equally sharp; he had never been close to Brittlebreeze, not even before he'd become Medicine cat, but he wasn't blind, he could tell plainly when a cat was irritated and Brittlebreeze fit the bill. What did StarClan tell him? Clearly, Smallclaw knew that everything that happened at the Moonstone was sacred; (but then why did StarClan let Ravenpelt and himself nearly crash his Medicine cat ceremony? Questions, questions... tsk, tsk) Cold, icy blue depths focused into smoldering emerald green ones for a split second, Trust me, she won't need a body guard all day and all night... go wait outside or something, I need to speak to her in private. Convinced it was important, he shot Ravenpelt a heartbeat stare, one that was overflowing with apology, before he dipped his head. He almost hesitated, but Brittlebreeze breathed some crisp words that sent a surge of frustration throughout the warrior. If he didn't go now, he'd make a fool out of himself. Go make yourself useful. Ears flicked backwards, the muscular tom retorted in response. "I'll be back then, when you're done." Removing himself from the herb-scented den, he plopped his rear just outside the entrance. He'd given him fifteen minutes, no more. 514

[| ravenpelt |]

Feigning a state of awakening from sleep, Ravenpelt twisted her head to look at Brittlebreeze as he entered his den. The calico tom looked oddly suspicious, his sharp blue eyes narrowed as his gaze traveled from her to Smallclaw. Ravenpelt blinked, allowing her gaze to cloud momentarily as pain once again took hold of her body, but it was not as bad this time. Light enough to not make her flinch, but too intense to ignore. The calico tom came to a stop a tail length away from them, staring at them for a moment with a cold gaze. For reasons she did not know, the black she-cat felt her skin crawl. Her former apprentice had changed since his younger days, though she had no idea why. It then occurred to her that he and Glenpaw had seemed to stop interacting completely. Did his new position as our Clan’s medicine cat come between them? Thinking about this, she felt a strange pang of loss that she could not explain.

Brittlebreeze eyed Smallclaw, annoyance written all over his ginger face. “Don’t you have any patrols?” he asked the black warrior tersely.

“Fortunately for me, no,” Smallclaw replied simply, returning the medicine cat’s intense stare with his own. Ravenpelt’s fur prickled, and again she kneaded lightly at the moss by her paws.

Brittlebreeze continued, exasperated. “Trust me,” he mewed quickly. “She won’t need a body guard all day and all night… go wait outside or something, I need to speak to her in private.” Ravenpelt blinked in surprise, and then turned her attention towards Smallclaw, only to find him already looking at her. He gazed at her intently for a moment, then dipped his head, giving in to Brittlebreeze’s will. Ravenpelt frowned, but not because of Smallclaw.

“I’ll be fine,” she then mewed quietly in his ear, knowing he probably didn’t like the idea in the slightest. “Go.” She flicked her tail lightly towards the entrance of the den.

“Go make yourself useful,” Brittlebreeze added, earning him an icy stare from Ravenpelt.

“I’ll be back then,” Smallclaw practically growled, hauling himself from the nest in order to stand with flattened ears. “When you’re done.” Without another word, the muscular warrior slipped out of the den as easy as a mink.

“You’ll be fine, won’t you?” Brittlebreeze mewed as soon as he had left. Ravenpelt turned her attention to the medicine cat, and, out of either spite or simple determination, pulled herself from her nest and back to her paws, eye narrowed against the pain. When at last she made it to a sitting position, limbs shaking ever so slightly, she planted her icy green gaze on Brittlebreeze.

“Quite,” she mewed coolly, never taking her eyes off of him. “Now, what do we need to talk about?”