Hello, My Old Friend, a warriors fanfic

Hello, Everyone! I haven't written anything for such a long time so I'm a bit rusty haha. Keep in mind that I have not read any book past "The Last Hope" so I apologize if there are inconsistencies with the canon and this fanfiction .

Enjoy!

The sharp knife of scarlet had scarce left his senses numb to the clutches of darkness he once fought to keep at bay. Fight, remember your training, fight like a savage, match flames with inferno, show no mercy to those who have stolen the lives that can never be replaced with memories and aimless whispers.

In waking, there was rest from the black swirl of nightmares he claimed to be dreams of retribution. He and Sandstorm took time to comfort each other and together they watched days of mourning pass while they tried to disguise their own. The clan still needed to be fed. Borders to be patrolled. A camp to fix. But while he slept there was no place to repose.

"No mercy will be found here," A chorus of merged voices seemed to grate over rocky stone, different pitches and indiscernible tones. "Look what you have done to us." And he knew what they had done. "The Clans will always be safe from the Dark Forest," Graystripe swept his gaze over the line of black trees that guarded him, ears flattened against the harsh whispers. "Do not threaten our peace. You will be met with defeat again." A laugh sent a shiver down his spine. One single voice rose above the rest in a tone as sharp as death, as familiar as the ache in his chest. "Firestar is dead, the prophecy over. Who will protect you now?"

He has had this conversation countless times now, always as he dreamed while the cats of StarClan lay dormant in silence broken only by his feeble growls.

Tigerstar's sinister claws are eager as they sink into his throat, blood bubbling to Graystripe's lips and his jaws widen to yowl, but not a sound emerges other than the sickly chokes as he drowns on his own blood, the taste of a familiar liquid on his tongue.

"I want to hear you scream," Tigerstar whispers as a terrifying glow of fury lights his amber eyes and he releases the gray tom. Graystripe scrambles for footing on the slippery grass. He reminds himself he's dreaming but it's too real.

If he weren't battling for his life in this pit, snarling profanities at the sinister curl of Tigerstar's lip; if his claws weren't drowned in the peaty red of rotting blood and his Clan was safe in camp he would have turned and bared his teeth just for Firestar.

Graystripe had resorted to counting the individual particles of dust visible only through the rays of sunshine peeking through gaps in the trees' protection of green leaves. It was unusually sunny for the coming leaf-bare although not unwelcome and as they ventured closer to the ShadowClan border the light became sparsely visible through the viridian pine. He was aware of Sandstorm's indifferent gaze although her prickling pelt betrayed her unease. The peace they had won was well met albeit temporarily.

"Hold," Dustpelt's firm command paused the small patrol. From the dark tree line Graystripe could make out the silhouettes of four cats, padding slowly and unaware of their presence. It appeared Dustpelt had no intention of meeting up with them.

"Let's mark our borders and leave," he growled briskly. "I'm in no mood to sit around and chat idly."

Graystripe let out a low purr of amusement, hollow but enough to lighten the mood if for a little bit as Sandstorm remarked the faint border. "You never were one for chatting. Why not be civil and say hi to our neighbours and former allies?" He met the dusty tom's sharp gaze, amusement against unfaltering sarcasm.

"I'm sure they'll be absolutely delighted to meet us."

Dustpelt gave a quick grunt but paid no heed to his advice and they dove back into the familiar light of their territory when Sandstorm returned. "No need to be so antisocial, Dustpelt," she chuckled and Graystripe let out a sigh of relief, sending her a silent thanks. "The battle is won. Why not try to keep the peace?"

There was a moment of silence and Graystripe glanced over his shoulder at the eyes of the ShadowClan warriors, as still and unmoving as the frost-covered leaves and their indiscernible expressions hinting at nothing. He let out a quiet laugh of amusement. "After all, Bramblestar did send us out to take a break. 'Pretend it's a border patrol,' he says," then shook his head. "What a fine successor Firestar chose," he joked.

Sandstorm fell silent, the slight grin shattering like ice. Dustpelt disguised his reaction as a cough but Graystripe noticed none of these. The mere mention of the fiery tom's name sent him into the cruel grasp of nostalgia, feeling the familiar ache of loneliness although he would never admit this aloud. But he couldn't help that his heart would plummet when the figure addressing the clan was no longer his best friend. When even his scent was dissipating from the den he had occupied for so long. His death was too quick; too sudden. Bramblestar was a stranger to the role of clan leader. "It's too soon for this" he thought absentmindedly, forcing an empty smile.

But all the same… the gray tom peered up at the vast expanse of blue. Why hadn't Firestar visited him in his dreams all this time? At least for a proper goodbye.

"We may have won the battle but it sure doesn't feel like it." Graystripe swore he heard Dustpelt's voice break and it was clear of which cat was dancing in his thoughts.

"Too many lives were lost," Sandstorm added, voice gentler than he had ever heard it.

Dustpelt slowed his pace after a moment, slipping between Graystripe and Sandstorm and neither of them questioned it. Side by side, they followed the worn path back to camp and Graystripe traced the patterns of crushed grass and sharp frost with his eyes, wondering what damage had been done by the battle and what by nature.

"We're getting old," he murmured.

Sandstorm and Dustpelt never denied it.

It was a few days later before Bramblestar called him into the leaders den, a place Graystripe had deemed very off-limits to avoid the painful familiarity of it all but this time it would be unavoidable. Awoken by Lionblaze who promptly sent the graying warrior to offer council to their new leader, a mere hatchling to the task of leading ThunderClan, he ducked into the spacious den.

Graystripe was no stranger to the role.

"Graystripe," Bramblestar nodded curtly at him, although the worry was apparent in both expression and posture. His eyes held the unfamiliarity of a newborn kit first straying from the warmth of his mother's belly. He looked similar to Firestar even days after Bluestar's death.

He stifled a laugh. "Morning, Bramblestar."

Bramblestar shifted his paws awkwardly and Graystripe wanted to tell him his anxiousness was fine but decided it may be a blow to his pride. Instead, he cleared his throat. "What do you need?"

"I was hoping you'd offer me some advice on choosing a deputy," the ThunderClan leader ducked his head. "I fear I'll make a decision I'll regret and Jayfeather hasn't received any signs from StarClan to direct me." He let out a sigh. "You have the most experience surrounding this matter. What do you propose?"

"I suppose I do although…" Graystripe gave him a long side glance. "Experience doesn't equal knowing."

Bramblestar nodded slowly. "That may be so, but Firestar always relied on you in the past. Perhaps I can do the same now."

It took the gray warrior a moment before he understood what the dark tabby was suggesting. His tail swept calmly over the fine layer of soft dirt surrounding the solitary nest. Graystripe let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, you've made foolish decisions in the past but making me your deputy would take the prize." He continued before Bramblestar could voice his indignant thoughts. "By the time you lose your ninth life I suspect I'll already be long in the ground."

"Besides.. it hurts too much to remember."

He beckoned the large tabby and together they emerged from the shelter, overlooking the bustle of clan life that they had grown so accustomed to. His eyes drew to Brackenfur sharing tongues with Sorreltail under the reminiscent sun, Leafpool sorting herbs with Jayfeather to dry out. His expression softened when the gentle she-cat laid her tail comfortingly on their medicine cat and he did not flinch away. His forgiveness was offering them a chance to reacquaint.

"Choose someone young, eager. Someone you are certain would not hesitate to lay down their life for you and someone you would fight to protect." Graystripe followed Bramblestar's inquisitive gaze, straight across camp to the flash of bright orange, a warrior. "And I believe you'll make your choice."

Bramblestar nodded firmly. The stoic flash in his gaze melted into the unconscious affection for a loved one. "Thank you, Graystripe," he tore his eyes from the future deputy, meeting the gray tom halfway and drew out another sigh. "It seems even when I've got some experience at my side I can only hope to ever match up to Firestar."

Graystripe glanced behind him, catching sight of cinereous clouds claiming victory from the sweeping expanse. "Its fine," he murmured faintly. "We were never as wise as him anyway."

The forest seemed to come alive once more as the canopy of green faded into darkness, unbridled light setting aflame the scorched ground and even still the smell of burning lingered despite the coming storm.

He could still remember the first day he spotted a flash of fiery orange between the trees, inhaled the scent of disgusting food and twolegs and everything he was taught to hate and scorn. Graypaw was determined to show it the strength of a warrior, he wanted it to fear the power ThunderClan could command.

But he was also taught to admire tenacity and will.

It was a friendship fate had long decided the second their eyes met and not even the depths of StarClan could guess of the trouble Firestar would lead him into. Trouble worth diving into to save ThunderClan, to save WindClan, defeat Tigerclaw. Any fool could see past what Firepaw was to catch glimpses of the path he had always been destined to lead and he suspected Bluestar knew from the start.

They had lazed together in the silken grass, the green stalks surrounding their bodies in a perfect cocoon. Their frequent visits had created a permanent indent into the ground in a marker of sorts.

"Hey, Firepaw. Don't you think Bluestar always shows you tons of attention?"

"Hmm? I'd never noticed."

Graypaw had rolled his eyes, flipping to his back to avoid Firepaw's scrutinizing gaze. He had always been so intuitive, watchful.

"It's like, tons and tons of PARTICULAR attention. Maybe she thinks you've got lots of potential?"

That seemed to catch him off guard, ear tips growing redder than his fur.

"You really think so? W-well..what about you, Graypaw? She's always praising you!"

"Haha.. that's only because I'm with you."

"Don't say that."

"I say it because it's true."

He was never angry about it; he never minded. And that's how it remained for moons.

The nightmares are relentless and he takes up night patrol often to avoid suffering the sight and scents of thick blood that's never really there. Feel unreal claws sink themselves hungrily into his long fur every night.

He's fooling no one but himself.

Sometimes he smiles grimly against the pitying glances sent his way but he doesn't mind. When it's dark he can drop the act, allow his disobeying limbs to betray the slightest fatigue, notice the twitches in muscles, eyelids that suddenly bear the weight of stone.

Sandstorm catches the act- she has known him long. Millie will fret over his sleeplessness and he is grateful for her love. Ivypool approached him shyly one day, offering consolidation and he knew she understood what he was suffering through, training every night with the enemy, watching, listening. A true nightmare she dove into willingly. He could never understand how.

Firestar assured the clan she was their spy but when Graystripe looks into her eyes he can see the guilt.

Bramblestar names Squirrelflight as ThunderClan's new deputy and there's not a single cat in the clan who challenges her position or doubts her ability to be their future leader. She has a legacy to uphold as Firestar's daughter and Graystripe is with absolute certainty that she will not fail. Likewise, he will not let her down.

The eager she-cat joins her former mate and they meet eyes, only filled with respect. There is a subtle nod and she regards the clan in a new light as the cat they will soon look to for guidance and for a moment, Graystripe feels as if he sees a flash of something within her green depths that he cannot decipher.

There's a chorus of yowls into the endless twilight, screeching her name with excitement and fury and after a moment, Graystripe raises his head and joins in.

He is drowned out by Sandstorm who contains enough pride and joy to reach the tops of StarClan.

"It could have been you." She says this to him one day. They both watch Squirrelflight organize patrols, ear tips growing red as she makes a blunder and a quiet song of laughter when Bramblestar corrects her mistakes. Leafpool nuzzles her ear before joining Jayfeather and Briarlight.

Graystripe breathes quietly, watching his breath materialize in the cold morning air. "Me?" he suppresses a laugh at Sandstorm's words, not breaking his gaze from his daughter's smile as Briarlight is swallowed by the den. He's become adept at turning a blind eye to the guilt that plagues him every moment he sees her useless hind legs. He enjoys when she is happy.

He lingers on the medicine cat den then shakes his head. "I don't think I'm cut out to be deputy.. after all-" Graystripe turns and notices the sandy she-cat's expression that breaks his sentence. It's too grim, too somber..

"Oh.. oh, you don't mean.."

But he knows exactly what she means, he just swallows the words back inside.

The gray warrior doesn't send a rebuke her way. He only understands her pain all too well, and even now he still blames himself for Firestar's death. 'If I had been just a second faster' he snarls to himself bitterly, but slips on a practiced smile, however grim.

His whiskers twitch as he rises, betraying emotion just a crack.

"Forgive me," Sandstorm whispers and he can't tell whether she's talking to the wind or to him.

He replies, although not unkindly. "That's what we all wish he would tell us, isn't it?"

The badger was hungry enough to take on a patrol of five cats, but smart enough to understand the importance of sneaking before going for the kill and Graystripe only acknowledged the intelligence of the blundering creature when its powerful jaws were wrapped around Squirrelflight's delicate neck.

Rage exploded through him, a white hot fire slamming him forward and he moved not of his own accord, advancing in two great bounds and latching onto the creature's back and he barked commands at the rest of the patrol all the while attempting to hold on. "Cloudtail, go for its legs! Unbalance it!" He turned away, trusting the cloudy warrior to follow his instructions. "Birchfall, its eyes!"

His mind raced with every battle tactic Lionheart had ever mentioned.

He sunk his teeth and claws into the badger's neck, shuddering at the similarities between his dreams and now but Squirrelflight's gurgled cry snapped him out of his hesitation, the fury-born-fear returning like a black swirl. He would sooner throw himself into the Dark Forest than allow Firestar's daughter die like this and when the warm tang of blood wrapped his tongue the badger let out a feral, ragged scream.

The former ThunderClan leader will have to wait many more moons before meeting his daughter in StarClan.

Graystripe leapt clumsily off its back before Birchfall's relentless attacks to its eyes sent it reeling, releasing its prey and shaking its wide head to rid the blood spilling into the black eyes. It pawed crudely at the wounds welling with scarlet but Birchfall barely allowed it the chance to hesitate.

Squirrelflight's bloody body slumped to the ground like a wilted leaf.

"Dovewing, take my place!" the gray tom nodded at the young warrior before darting to Squirrelflight's side, shouldering her hastily to her paws. "Come on, Squirrelflight. Not going to let some scratches do you in, are you?" He ignored the eager niggling thought in the back of his head.

You're going to lose Firestar twice.

She wheezed weakly.

His heart seemed to clench. "Cloudtail, Birchfall, Dovewing! We don't need to kill it, just chase it away! Squirrelflight is our first priority!"

Cloudtail joined him on the deputy's other side, supporting her weight and Birchfall and Dovewing took the rear, snarling viciously and taking swipes when the badger was foolish enough to follow after them. "Get lost!" he heard Dovewing hiss and he casted a quick backwards glance to feel relief flood through him when the creature paused, then blundered away in search of easier prey. "Thank StarClan!"

They had just barely managed to make it back to camp with Squirrelflight letting out bloody coughs and spits and when they set paw back in camp there was a thin wail that went up, Sandstorm racing to her kit's side and licking the blood from her face. Bramblestar followed closely behind and round eyes flashed from the darkness of the dens, cats emerging to the commotion.

"How could you allow this to happen!" Sandstorm snarled, shoving her face to Graystripe and he avoided her gaze shamefully when Bramblestar shoved his shoulders between them. The dark tabby tom's voice was strained and barely steady, a wild fear clearly visible in his amber eyes. "Jayfeather!"

The medicine cat was already rushing from the den, following the scent of blood with Leafpool and Briarlight following not so far behind and Squirrelflight's weight vanished from his side when her limp body was carried to the medicine cat den, Sandstorm following closely behind.

Graystripe unsheathed his claws, sinking them into the frost-wet grass. Forgive me, Firestar

It felt as if he had almost lost his best friend twice.

He's watching his son from the branches of the trees bordering ThunderClan camp. Bumblestripe pads slowly from the fresh-kill pile with a downcast expression, but there's a somewhat forced grin there and Dovewing follows him with her eyes, frowning slightly.

"Just like his father," Graystripe murmurs unconsciously, and then jumps down the tree, joining the striped tom before he disappears into the warriors den. "Bumblestripe!"

The young warrior turns his head to his voice and finds his father beckoning him. "Come on!"

Bumblestripe frowns. "Huh?"

"Well, as your father I can't allow you to sleep with rejection fresh on you mind."

Bumblestripe's tail lowers with shame and he averts his gaze and Graystripe winces at his choice of words. "I wasn't rejecte-"

"Let's go. Show me how good of a hunter you are, Bumblestripe. I'm certain by now you're lighter on your paws than me."

'Let me spend time with you' Graystripe pleads and his son must have seen something desperate in his yellow eyes because he turns.

"Alright then. I guess I could do with some exersize."

There's a quirk in Graystripe's smile as he nudges the young warrior's shoulder affectionately. A sort of relief floods his heart. "True, true. You have been getting lazier as of late."

Bumblestripe widens his eyes. "What? Me? StarClan, no!"

Graystripe's laugh rings in his ears.

He's getting tired of blood filling his nose. Dying is becoming such a trivial thing but such as they are when he does it every night and always at the claws of Tigerstar. But tonight, as he is flung around like a useless piece of moss, akin to the shreds kits in the nursery play with he doesn't see the dead bodies of his beloved clan mates surrounding him.

But that is a minor detail.

Details are hazy, as indiscernible and unrecallable from the next but sinking into the peaty soil and half drowned in his own blood Graystripe always remembers the extinguished embers of Firestar's pelt taken over by rot and earth next to him, the curiosity he remembers in his dead friend's eyes clouded and bled over. And Graystripe always reaches a paw out to him to feel the remaining warmth from his wet pelt but Tigerstar always drags him away before he can.

"Look at what you have done to us," Tigerstar snarls and Graystripe can feel his warm breath billowing above the pain. Pain in his neck, his legs, everywhere like a fire but he is not fazed. He has had this conversation countless times. He has heard those words countless times. "Don't joke around with me," he just barely manages to choke out. He's feeling daring today.

The snarl that decorates the dead leader widens but there is an unusual sadistic hint in it and Graystripe feels his ears flatten, fur spiking with fear. But he doesn't have a chance to attack once more, because there's a strange white eating away at Tigerstar's paws like a parasite, except to him, its presence brings about something warm; a sensation he has not felt in his dreams for moons. Tigerstar trips backwards ungracefully, eyes widened as his body fades away like the night Firestar killed him and Graystripe's expression mirrors his.

This has never happened.

"No!" Tigerstar snarls and his terrifying shrieks are joined by his brethren. "NO! I AM NOT FINISHED WITH YOU YET"

Graystripe is barely focused on him, attention drawn just behind the dark tabby tom.

And there, just a few tail-lengths away stands a cat that commanded his undivided attention, eyes glowing vibrant green with love and kindness, his legs akin to a coiled adder ready to strike and containing the power of a hundred cats.

His fur wavers an undying red and orange as if caught in a gentle breeze and the cats of the dark forest scream and wail with fear when his warm gaze falls upon them and Graystripe struggles to his paws. There's a light that seems to spill forth from his very being that bathes the world around Graystripe in an overtaking pale light, tearing into every crack and hiding hole of darkness. It feels familiar.

The cat's eyes land on Graystripe, and he can feel his body freeze, from awe or from excitement he can't tell and despite the fact that the wounds that littered his body have disappeared, his paws are rooted to the ground.

Move! Move!

He finds his voice.

"Firestar!" he cries, desperate to hear his voice but the figure merely nods at him, then turns away.

"Firestar!" he repeats.

And then he wakes up.

There is a gathering that night under a cloud-filled sky, the moon just barely spared of darkness. A little claw-scratch of silver light peeks through gentle gray mists and the cats of ThunderClan mill about camp excitedly, quiet whispers catching the wind.

Bramblestar had insisted that Squirrelflight stay behind just this once to allow her wounds to heal firmly, but she had waved him off impatiently. "This is my first gathering as a deputy," she had said coolly, smoothing ruffled fur. "Nothing is going to prevent me from going."

Sandstorm looked on worriedly.

The ThunderClan cats moved smoothly through the undergrowth, Bramblestar in front and Graystripe ran alongside him, their paws thrumming icy grass in sync and when the old warrior snatched a glance at their new leader, he noticed a sudden flash of anxiety, though hidden well. "You'll do fine," he murmured, a humorous grin spreading his muzzle. "Just make sure not to ruffle any fur."

The tabby tom flashed him a grateful smile, then pulled ahead just as they burst into the gathering, slipping up the tree.

When ThunderClan trailed onto the island, there was a palpable tension wavering off each and every cat like a fear-scent. They kept their respective distances while remaining unthreatening and as friendly as possible and each clan had no intention of disrupting the peace countless cats had given their lives for. They nodded at each other in greeting but little else.

There was quiet conversation here and there mainly amongst the older warriors.

Blackstar sat upon the tree, his tail tip twitching impatiently and Mistystar and Onestar seemed to be engaged in idle conversation. Squirrelflight joined the rest of the deputies and they dipped their heads respectively, mewing quiet words of congratulations. Graystripe slipped through the crowd of cats, his yellow eyes sweeping over the ocean of pelts for a friendly face but found none. Not today.

Graystripe draws his tongue gently over Millie's ear, breathing in her familiar scent as they share tongues each other under the warm morning sun. Camp is mainly empty and they spend time in each other's company in peaceful silence. It's a rare time when they are not surrounded with the loud bustle of day to day life.

Purdy believes they'll have their first snow soon and although he has absolutely no idea how the old cat could possible know this, he always nods along. Although today, the cold has seeped so far into his bones he feels as if his muscles are freezing over. He refuses to believe the fatigue is a result of age.

"Graystripe, how's Briarlight?" Millie's voice is spilling with enough worry to fill a lake. "I haven't had the time to visit as often as I'd like.. I'm.. worried I guess, that she's not eating properly."

The old warrior let out a sigh, releasing the stray hairs calmly from her back before speaking.

"Perhaps for now we should allow Briarlight to stand on her own four paws for now," Graystripe murmured, diverting his yellow gaze from his mate to the medicine cat den where he could just barely see her pale brown pelt moving about. "Don't you think we've been coddling her too much and spending too little time with Blossomfall and Bumblestripe?"

Millie inhales sharply.

"They fought bravely against the dark forest. They are as strong a warrior as you and I. They deserve a chance to spend time with their mother." Graystripe nods at Blossomfall who emerges from the camp entrance with a fat squirrel hanging between her jaws, then grins cheerfully at Millie.

Her eyes cloud over with regret. "Yes.. yes I suppose you're right."

Graystripe nudges her back, almost playfully.

"Go on!"

The leaf-bare sun sends down upon them feigned rays of warmth, enough to barely melt the hard-packed snow. The elders of ThunderClan lay beneath those rays in melted wet grass, salvaging what little heat the earth will allow.

Dustpelt lazes beside him, two of the oldest ThunderClan warriors.

Graystripe was shaken awake by quiet words, insignificant but enough.

"Nearly every cat of Bluestar's generation of reign is dead."

His yellow eyes flash against the sun, round and awake but Dustpelt takes no notice and continues to rest his chin on his paws, watching Cherrypaw and Molepaw play fight paws deep in the snow, mirror images of Sandpaw, Dustpaw, Ravenpaw and himself moons and moons ago.

The tiniest of smiles dances on his muzzle as his eyes are drawn to the tussle, dryer than grenleaf. For a moment, there are words dangling on his tongue.

But the silence is better.

Dustpelt's words are like a premonition for things to come. Not too many moons later, Sandstorm gives way to greencough and joins the ThunderClan warriors in StarClan and Dustpelt joins the elders den and he and Purdy keep each other company when under the wilted sun no cat else will. Dustpelt had approached him about announcing their retirement together, but he had refused; some part of him seemed to realize he'd be leaving soon anyway. Why not die a warrior?

Graystripe pads slowly from ThunderClan camp, the scent of spring overpowering on his nose filled with rose petals and lake water like the sharp tang of wet stone. Wind bathes his tongue, with it carrying every scent from its journey and he pauses for a moment to relish in the cold. It feels as if the forest has been reborn.

It's quiet in the forest. Peaceful.

Graystripe raises his head to the tree tops but he cannot hear a single bird call, not a single rustle of leaves.

His fur bristled at the utter silence, unsettled, until a familiar scent wafts around him, enveloping the gray tom in a sensation akin to home. Safety. Like the cradle of his mother's belly. But how was that possible?

"…..Bluestar?'

And at that moment, a familiar figure approached with head and tail held high in a pose he had sealed in his memory from what felt like was a hundred moons ago and a wave of nostalgia, his old enemy, washed over him. His heart ached with both happiness and sorrow. "Bluestar!"

The blue-gray she-cat emerged from the shadow and her eyes were gentle. Graystripe bursted forward and pressed his head affectionately against her cheek and they both let out a low purr of joy. "It's good to see you again Graystripe," she murmured.

After a moment, Bluestar pulled away, her muzzle set in a firm line. "I have not come here to exchange pleasantries with you, Graystripe," she said firmly. "I've come to take you to StarClan." Her gaze traveled slowly over his shoulder, and he followed her line of sight to a limp figure lying on its flank in the grass. Him.

Her words hit him harder than he had expected, and for a second the faces of his friends and family flitted through his mind. Millie mourning, Bramblestar burying his oldest advisor, his kits seeing his dead body. Dustpelt would lose a friend. His chest tightened, a frown crossing his face. Then he pushed those thoughts away. "I suppose I have lived a good many moons," he murmured absentmindedly, although the pain that clenched his limbs refused to relinquish themselves. They merely dulled.

"You have," Bluestar nodded.

The scenery around them melted away like a splash of water against the green background and they were suspended onto a silver path, each stone like a single star in the sky, the trees like the clouds he used to stare up at since kithood and Bluestar let out a quiet laugh of amusement at his awe, then beckoned him.

"Come," she said calmly. "We have been waiting a long time for you."

'We?'

Suddenly, he felt as light and weightless as a feather, his heart leaping into his throat with a kit-like excitement and he took a single step towards her, then another. His muscles tremble.

"Is he-" his voice caught, pitches higher than he wanted. He cleared his throat bashfully. "Is- is he there?"

Bluestar glanced over her shoulder and for the first time he noticed how vibrantly blue they were, and now they shone with as much grace and commanding as she had held in life; perhaps even more so. There was a sense of relief in seeing the former ThunderClan warrior so empowering compared to the days before her death.

"He is," she said simply.

Graystripe followed along with her and in the distance, he caught the sight of a painfully familiar cat, vibrant orange pelt, kind green eyes he had so dearly loved and missed. "Firestar," he breathed, as if afraid he was dreaming.

The sound of his voice was confirmation enough that he was not.

"Hello, my old friend."

End