She remembers that day. Everything about that day. The sharp scent of pine-sap, wrapping around the forest and singeing itself into their noses— because there was no other word to describe that piney smell; it burned, intensely, almost painfully).

Stronger than the resinous aroma, however, had been the miasma of fear.

Sootkit yelped, hackles rising and fur bristling. She hopped a few steps backwards, one of her front paws held up to her chest.

The other cat looked at her worriedly, amber eyes dark. "Great, great StarClan," he muttered, hitting his head on a nearby tree but barely making it budge. "Kit, are you okay?" the apprentice asked, before switching back to his grumbles: "I. Am so. Stupid."

"Um," the gray she-kit mewed, white-tipped tail flicking, "I think I got a needle in my paw."

His response was dry: "Yeah, 'kay. I'm so totally a medicine cat who can help you with your problems while I'm not trying to get us out of the middle of ShadowClan territory," he growled, voice rising with each word. But before Sootkit even processed what he was saying, her paw had been roughly flipped over and inspected.

"Hm, yeah, that's a needle. It's, well, not bleeding, so there's that."

Haha. She laughed, unexpectedly back in the present. "Not bleeding" was the typical way he would try to comfort someone. How they even got into the pine forest, so far away from RiverClan, was beyond her memory.

"But it hurts!" she'd complained.

A wet nose brushed her pawpad, and she could feel warm breath lingering on it. Suddenly, the feeling of an intruder in her body faded, replaced with a throbbing sting.

"That better?"

"Yeah... thanks. Dustpaw."

"What are friends for?" the golden tabby responded, perhaps with slight sarcasm.

In response, Sootkit blinked.

They'd made it back to camp eventually. It involved a ShadowClan patrol, several angry warriors, some more angry warriors and an exceptionally angry leader, and a few more pine needles in the paw before everything went back to normal.

At least, as normal as normal could be.

It wasn't easy, and it definitely wasn't "normal" living with a crazed mother, a dead father who you were apparently the doppelgänger of, according to said mother. Sootfall didn't even have any other blood relatives to go to; she would often just attach herself to Blackpetal, a kindhearted queen recovering from her birthing.

So that was why their little ShadowClan adventure had been so important.

"Friend," Dustheart, then Dustpaw, had said.

She was his friend.

Had been ever since that one day, when they were still young and naïve. After noticing her surprise, he'd pledged —rather gruffly— to be her best friend, for life, and in return, she did so for him.

He was the one she could come to when her mother was even worse than usual.

He was the one whose shoulder she could cry on without feeling embarassed or ashamed.

He was the one who could make her laugh. For a long time, the only one who could make her laugh.

He was the one who gave her memories that were filled to the brim with meaning.

He was the one who made otherwise mundane days something exciting, something she would remember and lock away.

Dustheart.

And now he was gone.

Sootfall twitched, pacing the camp. She'd been doing it for quite a while, so much that her pawprints had been starting to leave their mark in the dry earth.

Why, out of all the cats in RiverClan, did he have to be the one to parley with ThunderClan? Actually, that being said, why was he the only one? Why couldn't someone else go with him? It would make her feel better, at the very least.

Walk. Back and forth, back and forth, casting glances at the camp entrance in case he had come back.

"You're making me dizzy." A voice, more amused than anything, cut into Sootfall's thoughts. The she-cat paused, angling her ears towards the direction of the words.

"Blackpetal?"

The elder laughed. "Don't be worried, dear. ThunderClan isn't that bad... at the very worst, he'll be escorted back here, and the attempt for peace will have failed."

Sootfall forced a smile. "Why do you think I'm worried?" she padded over to her almost-mother, purring as she touched her muzzle to Blackpetal's ear.

The latter snorted, but returned the purr. "Sootfall, everyone can tell."

She felt her pelt get hot. "Well, I mean, I know we'll be okay, in the end. Dustheart will come back."

"That's my girl. Keep thinking like that and he'll be back in no time. Go on, now." The elder nudged her away. Sootfall hesitated, until Blackpetal added, "And maybe bring me some food while you're at it!"

The she-cat promptly trotted over to the fresh-kill pile. It held an abundance of carp —once his favorite fish, it was now the food that Dustheart tried to avoid unless his life depended on it. He's changed, Sootfall thought, but then realized with a start that she had changed too.

We've just grown up, I guess.

But she still had all their memories tucked safely away in her heart, and as long as they were there, they would keep her company. So many of these bits and pieces she had shared with Dustheart as time went on. Their hopes, their everything, they shared it all. She was pretty sure they'd only got this far together because of faith. His faith in her, hers in him. She could count on him, again and again, for as long as it took.

Sootfall dipped her head, scanning the pile of food, and picked up the juicest fish to deliver to Blackpetal.

"Here," she meowed, carefully placing down the prey —salmon— in front of the elder. The black she-cat made a noise of appreciation as she took a bite of the fish.

"You know," Blackpetal said after she'd chewed and swallowed, "every time you and Dustheart looked at each other, I always thought you fit perfectly."

The young warrior gave a small mrrow of amusement. She nodded. "I think... I thought so, too." I saw it in his eyes.

"I get the feeling you'll always be best friends. Maybe with a few kits thrown in."

"Blackpetal!"

"Having some honorary grandkits would be a join. Don't you let me down. Want some?" the elder asked mildly, pushing the salmon towards Sootfall.

"No, thanks." Sootfall didn't feel the need to go back to pacing, but she wasn't hungry. She sat down and curled her tail over her paws. "You finish eating. I'll keep you company."

"Very sweet of you," meowed Blackpetal, enjoying her meal wholeheartedly. They lasped into a comfortable silence.

After talking with her caretaker, Sootfall felt emboldened and less afraid. She knew now that Dustheart would be okay, that they would be okay. She didn't know what would happen in the future, —not kits, that would be mortifying!— but she knew that she wouldn't be alone.

She and Dustheart had changed and grown with the seasons. But in her heart, probably in both their hearts, home remained. Home, made up of memories and friendship and laugher and tears and everything in between, tied them together and never let go.