Have you ever wanted something so badly, that it just happened? Yah, I didn't think so.

I'm the kind of person that doesn't really wish for things, just silently craves them until it hurts. That why I'm sitting here, wondering, 'How badly must I have wanted this?'. When did the holy god of teenage girls' wishes decide that that specific wish was the one he was going to grant for me? Because, with a title like that, he's probably a pretty busy guy, why bother with my secret desires?

What was my secret wish, you ask?

Find out for yourself, you lazy bastard.

It was a long time before I could bring myself to pick up a pen, let alone to tell my story. For the most part, I was doing everything possible to put the whole ugly mess behind me-to shove the memories aside and never look at them again. But I couldn't. My body wasn't letting me forget. Months passed and still I continued to wake up in the middle of the night with his name on my lips, drenched in cold sweat. All it took was waking up alone to remember what I had lost.

To put it simply, I'm not the same girl that I was before the accident. I suppose in a way I should be glad—some of those changes turned out for the best, as you will soon learn. But I can't be happy. Not entirely. Because somewhere along the line I got a new scar, jaggedly vivid beside all the others. And, much like the scar on Firestar's flank, it's not going away anytime soon.

Right. You probably have no idea who the hell I'm talking about—unless you're one of those dorks (like myself) who happen to read Warriors. If you are, I thank you for making my life that much easier. Unfortunately, I still need to explain at least a little bit for the vast majority who haven't read the books. Firestar is…wow, how do I explain this? I mean, I can't just throw a Wikipedia entry in your face, now can I? Cats like Firestar, or Scourge and the others for that matter, just can't be explained. They just are.

Not very helpful, I know. But then, I never once claimed to be an expert storyteller. Just a fortune teller, and, if the situation called for it, messengers from Starclan. I would put stars in our pelts, and Scourge and Tigerstar would make up a realistic sounding prophecy.

Right. I'm still not making any sense here. After all, how could I possibly claim to have traveled with two fictional characters from a fictional book about cats living in a forest? Well, that's the precise reason why I'm still boarded up at St. Vincent's Institute for the Clinically Insane with suspected brain damage. The nurses are having a specialist look at me—one Dr. Logan C. Chaang, PhD—and in preparation for his visit, they are forcing me to write down everything that happened to me in the past year. They say it will help me separate fiction from reality.

Fat chance! I know who I am! Despite all the shit I dealt with, crossing universes, putting dictators in their place, and consorting with spirits, I haven't forgotten myself at all. My name is Clarice Palmer, I'm sixteen years old, and I most certainly am NOT crazy. Just stubborn.

I suppose I should get to the point right about now. Nurse Hornbill says that if I don't cut to the chase, she's going to request a psychiatrist to prescribe me some of the meds they push on some of the other inmates. Those particular individuals are actually the sanest people here—until they pop their pills, at which point they become nothing more than human vegetables for a few hours.

If that fat bitch were sane, she would prescribe herself a nutritionist and leave me the hell alone.

Yeah, you heard me Hornbill! You're a fat fuck who doesn't know her left hand from her right! I hope you remember that next time you try to slip something in my food…asshole.

Crap. Sorry, about that! My temper was never this bad before the accident… It's something I really need to work on. Easier said than done.

Contrary to what the white-coats say, it doesn't get easier with every passing day. Not at all. In fact, some of them are even starting to say that I might have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder—you know, that mental condition you typically see with war veterans and tragedy survivors? I don't want to believe it, but I can't deny that the symptoms are there. I'm angry a lot, I can barely sleep at night, I get accosted with these vivid flashbacks that seem so real that I feel about an inch away from death.

I wake up every morning reaching for his paw, and it isn't there. That's the worst part. Knowing I'll never be able to hold tails with him again.

Quite frankly, I'm not surprised. I mean, I did end up fighting in a war—it just happened to take place in the Warrior's world. I still have wounds from it too, but the nurses say that those were from my "accident." Anyway, I'm more surprised that I haven't picked it up earlier considering the fact that my entire life was one traumatic even after another.

But I suppose if I had to label a trigger even for all this, I'd have to say it occurred on the night of October 6th, approximately around seven o' clock at night.

"Clarice, come here, look at this! I found a new site that has a bunch of quizzes!" Alice yelled to me.

"Does it have any Warriors quizzes?" I asked curiously.

"One sec. Let me check. Oh, here's one, and it can be done by two at a time!"

"That's what she said," I said as I typed the link into my laptop. Alice rolled her eyes and sighed while waiting for my lazy self. "Let's see… Question One. Who is your favorite cat?"

(A=Alice, C=Clarice)

A: Whitestorm

C: Scourge

"Scourge, really Clarice?"

"What? He is my favorite character. Besides, he didn't deserve to die. He was just trying to make sure his cats got enough to eat," I said defensively.

"Whatever,"

"Question Two. If you could save the cat, and the cat was evil, and was about to kill Firestar, would you help him/her or Firestar?"

A: Help Firestar

C: Help him/her

Alice glanced at me but didn't say anything.

"Question Three. Would you kill their enemy if they asked you to help them?"

A: It depends

C: Yes

"Question Four. What would your name be and what clan would you belong to, if any?"

A: Phoenixfeather of Thunderclan

C: Stripe of Bloodclan

"Stripe? What kind of a name is that?" Alice asked while giggling.

"What? I like that name!" I snapped, trying to keep my temper under control.

"Whatever,"

"Question Five. Describe how you would look."

A: Fire-colored with white chest and grey fore paws. Deep blue eyes and dark blue back left paw and tail-tip

C: Black with blue stripes, red and yellow ringed tail tip. Dark silver back paws and glowing yellow eyes

"Would you accept them as your mate?"

A: Maybe

C: After a while, yes

We said nothing.

"Question Seven. If any, what powers would you like to have? Three only."

A: Healing/ Instant Regeneration, Super Speed, and Ability to Fly

C: Flash Step (From Bleach), Creating Illusions, and Ability to Breath Fire

"No comments on the abilities, Alice?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Are all of these answers true?"

A: Yes

C: Absolutely

"We thank you for participating in this test. Please press enter to submit your answers and follow through in your adventures,"

Alice looks at me and I shrugged. We both pressed down on the enter key at the same time. Suddenly a wave of energy went through our bodies causing us to black out.

A/N: OK, so this is my first Warriors fiction that I'm posting. Part of the idea for this chapter is from Sinbreaker's fic Help To The Fallen Angels. I'm about half way done with chapter two, so expect it soon. Review and get virtual bacon :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors. It belongs to Erin Hunter.