It was sunny. I could hear the birds chirping happily in the trees, I could see the insects darting about the clearing in which I sat, surrounded by purring, content cats. Some groomed each other's fur; others were grabbing limp prey from an overflowing pile on the other side of the hollow. Their pelts were all shiny and clean, and they were muscular, well fed, and healthy.
It was strange; for some reason this all felt wrong. How could something so perfect feel like it shouldn't be? I was confused. I threw a quick glance around to see the expressions on the other cats' faces, and none were mirrors of my own expression of incomprehension and worry.
Suddenly, there was a drop in temperature. The air around me grew cold, and I looked quickly at the sky in shock. The sun was still there! There was no breeze, just the feeling of the air as it steadily grew colder, the iciness pricking at my skin so it hurt. I took a breath through my nose, and it stung. I drew in sharp, shallow bursts of air, my eyes widening. I was panicking.
I looked frantically to the closest cats near me, shrieking and asking them what was happening. They got swiftly to their paws and began padding away. Where were they going? Why weren't they listening to me? They disappeared out of sight. I hadn't noticed before, but now it was impossible not to; the animals in the forest had grown silent. Tthe soundless, empty air pressed down on me, suffocating me, trapping me. I opened my mouth to cry out, but there was no sound.
Out of the silence, harsh yowling, shrieking and screaming broke through. I cringed, flattening my ears. It was agony. I could hear the pain through the sounds. It was all I could hear, filling my ears, pounding in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it all away, but the horrible sounds stayed, and I could still see the brightness of the sun through my eyelids.
Why was it still sunny? The cold was unbearable; I was shivering, convulsing, as if I were having a seizure. I tried to think about heat, about what the sun should really be making me feel, but I could not remember anything of warmth. It was gone. All that was left of my memories, of the present, of the world, was the sound of cats in their intense pain, and the feeling of cold that surrounded me.
When I opened my eyes again, the sun was gone. But that was the only difference. The yowling still echoed through the still air, and I was still encased in the cold. Understanding of this all came to me at once, and my mind flinched away from it.
The sun was a dream. The happiness was a dream. The fresh-kill. The healthy, happy cats. The birds and the insects. All a dream.
Even without the sun, brightness momentarily blinded me. I blinked twice, and let my eyes adjust.
I was in the apprentice's den, and I wasn't alone. I saw a few piles of fur rising and falling quickly, and I could see their bones poking out of their skin. We were all huddled together, trying to keep warm, but it made no difference. The cold still touched us all, right down to our very bones.
I looked outside, and the scene was familiar. I hated it.
Snow and ice covered everything. It was so white, it didn't matter that there was no sun, that it was hidden behind the same thick clouds that covered the sky every day. It was like our light was only coming from the white puffs of snow, like it was our replacement sun. But it was a cold light. And I hated it.
The yowling had never stopped. I knew that some of the apprentices were awake, but they lay still as if they were still sleeping. Like me, they didn't want to face this torture that was our life now. We all knew what the sound meant.
I didn't want to leave, but I had to. Who was it this time? Not that it mattered much to me. I had no one left. I had nothing left. Nothing except this cold, icy life, filled with tragedy and pain and death.
I still wanted to know. Slowly, carefully, I raised my weak, skinny body from the ground, and took a shaky step forward. When I was sure I wouldn't collapse, I walked out into the clearing.
Small puffs of white slowly floated and spiraled down from the sky. How could it still be snowing? Wouldn't it stop sometime? My legs carried me to the cats that were mourning, to the nursery. I knew it.
I joined the group of unbelievably emaciated cats, pushing my way through to get in the middle. I didn't ask anything. I knew someone would tell me.
"The kits. All of them."
I did not look to see who had spoken, answering my question that I hadn't needed to ask. It was not a surprise to me. What kits could live without a mother? We had all tried our hardest to keep the queens alive so they could save their kits, but for some reason, after their kits had died, so did they. It was like they had given up. They knew they failed. There was nothing left. Their one goal, their one mission in this miserable life had been crushed.
There was one – I could not even think of her name – that had died while her kits were still alive, still needed her milk. Or, the little milk that she had managed to produce. She was the last one, so the kits were left alone. Not even a foster mother. No cat that could provide them with the only food they could eat.
It was so obviously going to happen. So why did they mourn? Why did they waste their energy? But there was more; I could feel it. The air that was so still moments ago was now filled with tension. I felt antsy. Why wouldn't they say anything? They only wailed their grief to the skies.
I was surrounded by cats, since I hadn't bothered to get to the front of the crowd. Why did I need to see it? I didn't want to have the image of the limp, lifeless bodies of cats that had left us in my mind. I didn't want to see their blank faces. I didn't want to see their dead, empty eyes.
I turned to the cat beside me, the one who had spoken earlier. It was an orange she-cat, although her coat wasn't as magnificent as it used to be. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her eyes were dead-looking. Her skin was pulled tight over her bones, but none of this was surprising. This was typical. This was familiar. This was our life now.
"Squirrelflight?" I asked quietly. My throat was dry and my voice sounded weak and quiet. A small nod of her head showed that she acknowledged me. "Who else?"
There was a moment of hesitation. There was a moment when a thrill of fear raced through my body, and I tensed. Then it was gone, and I was numb again, forcing away the feelings that I didn't want to feel. Because I didn't want to hurt anymore.
"Leafpool." That one word contained so much pain, that I almost lost control on the numbness. Almost, but not quite. Practice had made it much easier to rein in the negative emotions that I should so regularly be feeling, replacing them with a safe numbness. I should be feeling scared, so scared that it should lock me into place, holding me to the same spot so that I couldn't move. I shouldn't be able to mumble, "I'm going hunting," and get up and walk out of camp. But I could. And I did.
Leafpool was dead. Gone. I was thinking it, but the realization didn't really hit me. It was impossible. No. I wouldn't believe. I couldn't! If Leafpool was dead, who would care for all of the sick and dying cats? Not Jaypaw; he was in one of the worst conditions. Not Brightheart; she was already dead. And not even Sandstorm, for she was wasting away into nothing, still grieving endlessly over her dead mate and leader.
I took my time walking through the thorn tunnel and out into the forest. I could almost laugh. Why did we need defenses, like the thorns and brambles, when none of the other Clan's could be doing any better than us? We were safe from the other cats, but I would trade this life now for constant attacks from the other Clans, for badgers and foxes, for any kind of trouble, anything other than this! We could run away from the attacks. We could find a new home. We could chase away foxes and badgers. But we couldn't run away from the cold, or from the lack of prey, or from the deaths and the sickness and the pain.
A crisp, dry wind greeted me as I stepped out of the shelter of the hollow. I didn't notice if it was colder here or not; I didn't really care. It was all one temperature to me: freezing.
I shivered, and it shook my frail body violently. I was already exhausted just from walking, but I was so hungry. My stomach was so empty it hurt. I was driven by my crazed starvation, pushing my tired limbs to run quietly across the frozen ground.
I slowed to a stop and scented the air, raising my pink nose delicately. The cold stung, just like in my dream. I could smell death, sickness, and… mouse! Adrenaline immediately raced through my veins, and I followed the scent as quick as I could without making excessive noise.
I raced around the trunk of a tree and stopped quickly. I could see it. My mouth watered, the hungry feeling in my stomach was so painful it was sickening. I wanted to race after the creature and tear it apart without any other thoughts, let my instincts take over, but I needed to make sure I could get this. When was the last time I'd eaten? I couldn't remember.
The ache in my stomach was becoming more profound, and I inched closer to the skinny creature. It was small; barely any meat on its tiny bones, but it was food. I lowered myself into a crouch easily, tensing my muscles to spring. I knew I would make a perfect kill, as long as –
A breeze suddenly came from behind me, carrying my scent to the mouse. It turned and looked at me with small, frightened eyes, and then darted off. At the same time, I was already running, forcing my weak body to chase it. The hunger in my stomach urged me on; it was burning now, I needed this. A fierce snarl ripped from my throat as I caught the mouse with my unsheathed claws. I pinned it down, victorious for the first time in awhile. A long while.
I killed it quickly, and my eyes were wide, staring at the limp animal with an intense craving. I hadn't seen fresh kill for so long. I didn't care that I should bring it back to camp. I was so hungry.
The first bite was so perfect; I rested it on my tongue, savoring the flavor and then chewing it slowly. It was hard to swallow, even though I didn't take an overly large chunk. My throat was dry and it hurt. I ignored the pain, and quickly finished my meal.
It was then that it suddenly hit me how extremely exhausted I was. Even after eating, I felt weak. My short walk and then the hunt that followed had almost completely worn me out. My eyes searched around the clearing I was in, and I stumbled over to a pile of snow, collapsing on it clumsily. I kept my eyes closed, slowly breathing. I tried to concentrate on that one action, taking the air in my lungs, expelling it, over, and over, and over.
I felt sick; I wasn't used to having so much food in my stomach. The weakness and sickness made me feel dizzy. I kept my eyes closed, but it still felt like the earth was spinning. The meat didn't feel good in my stomach at all anymore; I regretted eating it. Maybe it was a sick animal? No, I would've smelt it.
My stomach heaved a few times, and suddenly I was empty. I didn't feel any better; the dizziness and exhaustion was still there, but I felt so light. I opened my eyes once more, to see if there was any change at all. Great, it was snowing.
My eyelids felt heavy, so I shut them, but the rest of me still seemed light and empty. I felt like I could float up to StarClan if I wanted too. StarClan, I thought. Wouldn't that be nice? To be free of this cruel and torturous life that you can do nothing about. At least I'd have something there. I would be able to see my family again, my friends, and the best part; I'd be able to spend my endless time with him. Yes, that would be nice.
No one was there to see me take my last gasping breath, to feel the heat drain out of my body and see the emptiness in my eyes, but that was okay. I didn't need their company right then. I was saved. I was released. I was finally freed.