Author's Note: I do not own the Warriors series, but more importantly (Since I'm sure most other entries contain said disclaimer), please note that I have not read the Warriors series past Sunrise. If there is an inconsistency between the canon and this fanfiction, I apologize. I have Sunrise open here, but never finished it. Besides the "I'm sorry if my story sucks" talk, thank you to all readers and especially reviewers. This fanfic illustrates what I felt ever since reading Warriors: Long Shadows... and I hope you feel the same as well.

Squirrelflight's Love

Hate. That was what Hollyleaf felt as she raced through the undergrowth—hate for all of them. Leafpool, for her lies. Jayfeather, for convincing her that she was special. I'm worse than nothing. How could she go on serving the warrior code that she had worshipped her entire life, knowing that her very existence infringed upon it? The pillars of her life had started crumbling ever since she learned the truth—that Leafpool and Crowfeather, not Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw, were their parents—and it was only now that those pillars had come crashing down.

You think you know us, but everything you have been told about us is a lie.

Squirrelflight. She hated Squirrelflight most of all—for daring to play 'mother' with them, daring to lay claim to them when hardly a drop of her blood ran in their veins. Hollyleaf wanted nothing more to do with them anymore—yet where else could she go?

The tunnels. She was not WindClan like her father, nor could she bear to return to her birth Clan, which had harbored so many secrets. The other Clans held no ties to her. But maybe the tunnels led someplace else—someplace where she could be free of the lies…

She died instantly when the first boulder slipped free of its grip on the wet soil and collapsed onto her body, crushing fur and bone together in a horrifying crunch. But she was still running, running in a starry land while her brothers still grieved in the world of the living…

"Where am I?" Hollyleaf paused, catching her breath. This could not be the tunnel—the sky was above her, a beautiful dark blue sky littered with a plethora of stars. Lionblaze and Jayfeather were nowhere in sight. She was padding along a rift, a crack that split the earth in two; at her back was a forest, dark and unwelcoming. Beyond the gorge was unending plains. For all her love for ThunderClan's trees, Hollyleaf felt that the dark forest behind her was no place for any cat. "Where am I?" she called again, her voice trailing away in the great expanse. "Someone, please speak to me!"

"Who's that? Bless my old heart, my eyes aren't working as they used to. Why, when I was a young 'un like yourself…" Hollyleaf whirled, shocked to see an old gray elder limping to her side. Where did she come from? The old she-cat rambled on, ignoring Hollyleaf's disbelief: "…I used to be one of the sharpest young cats, I tell you. Quite sharp." She flashed a toothy grin that revealed her broken and yellowing teeth. "Come now, why so glum?"

"I found out that my real parents broke the warrior code, and that they're pitiful excuses for warriors." The vehemence in her snarl was a mere shadow of the true anger that raged within her. "I found out that Squirrelflight only pretended to be my mother."

"Oh, my." The old she-cat contemplated for a while, but her mind seemed to slip; Hollyleaf's anger turned to exasperation. Where were they, anyways? Who was this cat? "Ah, I remember when Mistyfoot and Stonefur found out the truth of their mother. Quite a row that made, I tell you."

Hollyleaf stood up, staring at the elder's bright amber eyes. The name Stonefur meant nothing to her, but Mistyfoot… "Mistyfoot is RiverClan's deputy," Hollyleaf meowed quietly. Stonefur must have been a sibling. "What truth about her mother?"

"That Bluestar of ThunderClan was their mother, and Oakheart of RiverClan was their father."

She had never heard that tale from the elders. Hollyleaf reeled, almost stepping into the chasm to fall to her death. Was even ThunderClan's history riddled with secrets—secrets that threatened the very existence of the warrior code? "Then Bluestar was a traitor!" she spat. "How could she break the warrior code like that? By what right?" She trembled, tearing the grass underpaw with unsheathed claws. "By what right?"

The elder seemed not to notice her agitation. "Quite a row that made," she repeated, "quite a row. The very day Mistyfoot and Stonefur found out, they came straight to me. I told them the truth. And can you believe what they did afterwards?"

She didn't care what Mistyfoot and Stonefur did. But for all the contempt she now held for the code, she still couldn't shake off her well-disciplined respect for such an older cat. "What did they do?"

"They told me that they loved me."

Hollyleaf then understood—everything. The story about Mistyfoot and Bluestar—it was so long ago, before her birth. And this elder was evidently from RiverClan, although Hollyleaf could not recall ever seeing her before. If this cat had been a 'mother' to Mistyfoot, she had to be old—far too old to be alive. She was dead—and so was Hollyleaf. They were with StarClan now—or were they? Still trembling, she managed with a quavering voice: "Who are you?"

The elder looked at Hollyleaf as if she had just proclaimed that hedgehogs could fly. "Graypool, of course," the elder grumbled. "Why, young cats these days know no respect."

"Graypool, I…" Hollyleaf took a breath. "Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw aren't my real parents. All our lives Squirrelflight lied—to all the Clans and us. And Leafpool, she didn't have any right to fall in love with Crowfeather. She ruined our lives the very moment she ran away with him!"

A hard blow to her ear sent her reeling. "What was that for!" Hollyleaf hissed. The elder withdrew the paw she had used to cuff her in the ear, and the look in her old eyes was amused. "If you think I'll let you get away with—"

"What'll you do? Kill me?" The elder laughed—a harsh, rasping cough that chilled Hollyleaf to the bone. "I know you, Hollyleaf. I know you more than you know."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"I do." Graypool was no longer an ancient half-blind elder stumbling along to find her way; her eyes smoldered with a clarity that convinced Hollyleaf that this elder could see right into her soul. "Why do you hate Squirrelflight so much, Hollyleaf?"

"I told you, she lied to us—"

Another blow to the side of her head. She felt like a kit now, being punished for teasing Jayfeather. "Who was Squirrelflight before you found out that she wasn't your mother, Hollyleaf?" Graypool demanded.

No answer.

"She was your mother. She may not have been able to nurse you, but she raised you. StarClan knows, you're ungrateful enough that she would have been smarter to leave you out in the snows for dead." The old memories rushed back to Hollyleaf, unbidden: the old memory of cold and snow, and Squirrelflight's warm presence guiding her to camp…

"But she's not my mother!" Hollyleaf cried. She was backing away now—not towards the cliff this time, but towards the dark forest. The cold silence of it enticed her; she wanted to hide, to run away from the cold accusing stars—one of which was Ashfur, who had most to accuse of her. "Squirrelflight never gave birth to me or my brothers. How can you expect me to love her?"

"You think blood matters so much?" Graypool moved faster than her age should have allowed; a single claw nicked Hollyleaf's cheek, letting a single drop of blood splash down upon the grass. "Do you truly believe that, if Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw were your real parents, that that blood would be any redder? Any brighter?" Again no answer. "I love my kits," Graypool whispered. "I knew, from the start, that they weren't mine. Squirrelflight, as well. But she still raised you, as her own.

"Is blood really so important? What can one do when one loses what matters most?" Graypool shook her head, disappointment poisoning her yellow gaze. "Go on with your hate, Hollyleaf. Hate Squirrelflight for something she could never have."

The elder turned away, towards the cliff; she crouched, ready to leap over the gap. Hollyleaf wanted to follow her, but somehow she knew—if she tried to leap that gap, to make her way from the land of the dark forest to that of StarClan's hunting grounds—she would fall, fall to her doom in the depths below.

Squirrelflight. It was then that Hollyleaf knew—Leafpool was not her mother, and would never be. I couldn't regret having my kits. They are fine cats, and I will always be proud of them. That was what Leafpool had said, after Hollyleaf revealed the truth in the Gathering. How dare she? Leafpool had no claim to them. It was Squirrelflight who had raised them—Squirrelflight, who brought them their first piece of fresh-kill. Who had always supported them whenever they ran afoul of others. Who was always there for them. Who always loved them, struggling to be a mother she was never destined to be…

"Please, wait!" She didn't have to call; Graypool was already waiting for her, as if she understood. And she did. Hollyleaf knew, from the bottom of her heart, that whatever Leafpool and Crowfeather had done—she could not hate the one cat who had defied destiny in raising her and her siblings. "I'm sorry, Graypool," she whispered. "Thank you." There was so much more she wanted to say—what were Mistyfoot and Stonefur like? Were they as tightly-knit as she and her brothers were? But no other words came; there was no need for them. Graypool nodded, and relief spread over Hollyleaf's face.

"Let's go." Graypool sailed over the cliff, her muscles flexing, with starlight dancing about her paws as she landed lightly on the other side of the gorge. Hollyleaf bunched her hindleg muscles together in a crouch, following Graypool's example. For a moment the gap seemed too large for any cat to leap safely across. Such was the impossibility of crossing from the land of the dark forest to the starlight beyond. But Squirrelflight's love gave her strength, as it always had—and with a renewed faith in her mother she leapt, flying across the chasm as easily as she might cross a small stream. As she landed on StarClan's territory, she was consumed by a powerful resolve. The thought opened up before her like a flower—a flower that had long suffering from the hatred:

I love you, Squirrelflight.