He hasn't moved, dear.
He's old; hasn't been the same since Barley died.
I know. We'll have to find a new ratter soon.
Ravenpaw barely twitched his ears at the twolegs yowling. He lay sprawled on his side in his nest. His breath hardly stirred the hay under him and his grey whiskers had a bleached coating of frost on them. His gnarled ribs poked out from under his matted pelt; he hadn't eaten for days.
Perhaps he should have gone with the Clans when he had the chance; they cared for their elders when they could no longer hunt. But he knew he could never stay with the Clans. He abandoned them to save his own pelt.
A sharp hunger pang wracked his frigid body and an acidic sting in his throat forced him to hack and gag. Spent, he fell limp.
"Hello, old friend".
Ravenpaw tried to open his eyes, but a layer of snow had drifted in from the open door and covered his face.
The stranger seemed to know this, for his presence bent Ravenpaw's whiskers as he leaned close enough to melt them with his breath.
Sneezing, Ravenpaw allowed himself to gaze at his guest.
Firestar had aged gracefully; his battle-scarred muzzle coated in a glimmering shade of grey and his eyes were alight with enough fire to burn down the barn he sat in. His pelt was slightly dusted with shimmering frost from the storm that cast strange wisps of light on the walls around them. The corners of his lips were drawn up in a friendly smile.
Ravenpaw staggered to his paws. "Firestar! Great StarClan, how did you get here? Surely it was a long journey? You must be hungry; I'll see if I can catch you a few mice". Talking so quickly made Ravenpaw feel light-headed, but so did the presence of his friend.
Firestar chuckled –his voice had gotten deeper to the point of being unrecognizable- and threw his muzzle at Ravenpaw's shoulder, his deep purr warming him to the core.
"I'm not here for food, mouse-brain", he snickered.
Ravenpaw's breath caught in his throat. What did he mean? Were the Clans in trouble? Why else would Firestar make such a long trek alone?
Left in his thoughts, Ravenpaw didn't see Firestar detach himself from their embrace and pad towards the door. He beckoned his friend forward with a graceful swipe of his tail. "Walk with me".
Ravenpaw peered outside; the blizzard had become far more severe. One could hardly see a tail-length in front of their nose. But Firestar seemed to be able to see right through the storm, and he was smiling as though he could sense where all the fattest mice were hiding.
Perhaps in his old age, Ravenpaw was going blind as well.
Cautiously stepping outside, he followed behind Firestar. The icy wind stung his eyes, and every time he opened his mouth, Firestar would press his plummy tail to Ravenpaw's maw. By the time he had given up on asking questions, his lips had been sealed tight with the cold.
Suddenly, Firestar stopped, sat down, and began to wash. With his fur so coated in snow, Ravenpaw hardly felt cold anymore but Firestar didn't seem cold at all; not an inch of snow marred the fire of his pelt.
Afraid of sitting down and letting the dampness seep into his aching joints, Ravenpaw peered around. He couldn't smell, he could hardly see, and his ears rung with the white noise of the wind. But through the blizzard, he could discern a dark shape lying in the snow a few feet away.
Ravenpaw walked towards it and prodded the heap with his paw, horrified to feel it sink into the soft black fur of a cat. Quickly rolling the tom over, Ravenpaw examined him for any injuries.
The unmistakable musk of death hung on his fur like fog and his bones peeked out from under his skin. His eyes were delicately closed as though he was asleep. Ravenpaw yowled for Firestar to come over; sensing that whatever had killed the tom might be close by. But, Firestar didn't seem interested in the dead cat; instead he opened his jaws and spoke for the first time since leaving the barn.
"Bluestar had wanted to call you Ravenwing".
Ravenpaw jerked his head around to look quizzically at his friend. "When did she tell you that?" he asked as he walked stiffly towards him, wincing as a shock of cold air stung his muzzle.
"A few moons ago." Firestar's voice wavered with some indescribable emotion; a collaboration of all and nothing together to only be called knowing.
Ravenpaw opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to respond. Suddenly, Firestar padded up behind him and whispered into his ear.
"I want you to come with us Ravenpaw".
"Where?" Ravenpaw twisted around and stared at the larger tom, who smiled brightly, his eyes glowing and his pelt shimmering. Firestar began walking away, not even turning back to see if Ravenpaw was still following or even beckoning him along.
"Oh, you'll like it there." He nodded, as though agreeing with himself.
Ravenpaw tentatively crept forward, eyeing his friend as though half-expecting him to vanish into the whiteness that surrounded them. "I am old Firestar, I may not make it there", he said as one of his bones made an audible snap. He could no longer discern where it was; the pain that usually came after had long since blended with the constant aching of being an elder.
Firestar grinned all the wider. "Oh StarClan no! It's an easy journey!" He leapt off and charged onwards. Ravenpaw could not keep up; the larger tom's scent was lost to the storm and the body of the other cat had faded into the distance.
He was alone. The coiled pain that rested in his chest reared and expanded, threatening to tear through his skin. Fever washed over his eyes and he choked on blood as a sharp pain tore through his lungs. He felt something within him tear away, leaving empty a space that never should be.
He fell over, wheezing. His eyes water and he felt the pressure of sound try to break through his ears. With some unheard pop, he could hear a voice. It floated around him on the wind, from every direction, even the ground rumbled with it.
"It's Greenleaf there. Yes, and all our friends are waiting for you".
Joyful mewls sounded behind him, and a collage of scents bombarded Ravenpaw's failing nose: Bluestar, Longtail, Redtail, his mother. He could feel every one of them beside him.
He felt his breath grow shallower, but he struggled to his shaking limbs, following the scents through the storm. He had to pause with almost every movement to catch his breath, but memories flooded his limbs with energy. With each step he grew lighter and, as though he had broken through a web, he was able to run, leaving his body behind in the snow.