FΛЯ ΛЩΛY

An∂ αℓℓ σf tнєѕє ѕtєρѕ, tнєѕє ѕtєρѕ tнαt ωє mαкє,

Aяє ℓєα∂ιng υѕ fαя αωαу.

Aℓℓ σf tнєѕє уєαяѕ αяє ραѕѕιng єαcн ∂αу,

An∂ ѕιncє tнєn ωє αяє fαя αωαу.

Thunder roared violently, far away.

Cats meowed eagerly, far away.

The sun set calmly, far away.

There were paths drawn and shattered, far away.

Roses grew, far away.

Snowstrike watched the groups materialize. He was away from the rest of RiverClan, not looking any cat in the eye. He felt that a fraction of him, that he so dearly cared for, shatter away into countless pieces and he felt equally guilty and raw depression burning and singing himself, driving him into an ever-long entropy. Another part of him just wanted to escape into the lines of an inverted reality he'd dream of, where she would still exist. The last part hid in plain sight, yet far away.

Every emotion ever that he had ever known all shattered and the fragments crossed into each other. A storm of ice, coated in fire. A heat wave followed by an intense rain. Snow on the ground with a drought.

"My whole life I had been working and searching! I would have perfectly found something I had truly and dearly loved, for once in my cursed life! All I ever stood for is now far away." Snowstrike yowled with a dually grimly and a violent pitch, shouting into no where, if the trees or birds could hear what malice had swept through him.

The cat was always away from cats. He didn't like the noises clustered into small packets that bonded together and collided themselves into his ears; he didn't like the rest of the cats had no fellow feelings towards each other, and that they all were close together.

His whole life he had felt as if it was missing the extra joy and " something else" everyone else talked about. Everyone else was constantly on cloud nine, and Snowstrike was a thousand light-years away from that. But, at his fallen hope, destiny turned over and sent in a cat that wasn't everyone else. Her name was Sweetpaw. The name merely made him flinch and solemnly look down with pain and wickedness.

People kept on saying they were all the same. He saw logic in this, but there were doubts. All cats ate, slept, loved, felt a need to reproduce, but he wasn't like that. He was merely a color in the midst of a monochrome painting.

She was beautiful. Her pelt, her eyes, her voice, and her personality all had made Snowstrike, the cat that had been enveloped in a dark embrace his whole life love. Sweetness always emanated from her, and she always had a smile that he could merely think about and always managed to make spending time with her the one thing he could live for. He was so in love with this cat, he had let her become his master, and he couldn't get enough. She was his sweetest addiction.

And, things even got better for him. They decided to make a promise, that he was going to be her very own love when he was a Warrior, and nothing could change it. This made her feel even more like a drug then before, and he was addicted physically. No cat had ever replicated twoleg drugs, but somehow this cat did.

Then, as Sweetpaw was becoming a Warrior, and the promise was about to be fulfilled, ThunderClan started a raid, and took her back to the camp as she had apparently "ran away" from her Clan.

The truth was that she came back to ThunderClan because the leader, Whitestar, had wanted and forced her as a mate once she was a Warrior. This was proven when the deputy died soon after, and Sweetfoot was made second-in-command.

Now, all Snowstrike wanted to do is run. Run from a path he knew had fallen to the ocean floor. Run from a life he knew was almost dead. Run from shattered fragments of a glass promise. Run far away, further then he could ever imagine, anywhere else then here contemplating his own collapse.

He felt the same loneliness he did, as he was an apprentice. The crushing, terrible, pressure that sunk him into the ground as if he was falling through an infinite torrent of quicksand that kept ascending, no matter the shouting and the pleas. Snowstrike spoke through himself in only hopes of Sweetfoot noticing the uprising and ever-changing agony and sadness.

All of the places we kept saying we'd go. The times that are cherished in the most sacred vaults of my heart, and the steps we took. I know we are who we are, but that is constantly changing. It's all leading far away. From where we both were, we did what we could. It's not simple, neither is it easy. But I will start from the start. And I will start from our start. I love you, and I must run away, far away. Farewell, the RiverClan I knew. Farewell, forest that I once knew.

His own thoughts, paired with the shards of the promise, acted as a catalyst.

He stood up from the lake and walked away, tail and fur lowered. The air was filled with a minty taste, and it felt soothing to his tongue. An avid aura filled the abandoned space of him, of an idea of starting over. After saying those words, the world seemed to smile at him, and there was only bliss that remained in his heart, of what he could accomplish when he didn't love.

Snowstrike took the same passageway from the camp as the rest of the cats did, the way the other cats did.

He went to the fresh-kill pile, got a fish, and sat down next to a Clanmate and ate.

"How are you doing?" Snowstrike talked to the cat as if he was an old friend. The cat, backed away a little, and responded with, "Erm, I saw you there on the ledge. You looked as if you'd fall off and you sat there a long time. The leader even prevented us from telling what happened. Are you OK?"

"Yes. I am normal now. What is your name? I must have forgotten." Snowstrike seemed different and almost automated now, as if he was normal, and cats looked up to him as if he was Brokenstar, awe and shock in their faces.

"Featherflight. Nice to, well, it seems like re-meet you." Featherflight meowed casually.

"I'll remember that."

Snowstrike then went out to catch prey. It was sleep inducing. He was a good prey-hunter from the start. Hence, he caught every thing he could see with ease.

Snowstrike went to bed. Not knowing of it, he was about to dream a dream, one that eternally faze him and put him in a new perspective, for a time longer than forever.

He was padding along in a forest, notably his one. The hues and the shading all looked the same. Snowstrike let loose a gasp once he heard the voice of Sweetfoot in the distance.

"For I cried, for I didn't think it was true, that I had always loved you."

He turned insane on a dime, glancing around in every direction possible to see her so beloved and visionary face once again. He listened even more, and he savored every last second of her voice. Even if it was a despondent thing, things that brought sadness embedded within it. Even if the clouds on the frontier were surging through time and space at the speed of light and weren't something. Even if a rift ripped open and swallowed him whole. Even if the conflicting emotions threatened to take control.

"And you and I might have always known each other."

The words almost had a rhythmic sound to it that soothed the ears. Although Snowstrike couldn't see her, he felt her presence, and wondered if there was a way to connect with her.

"And that we could only evoke, but conjure a place of our own."

Snowstrike didn't listen to what the words said; all he heard was her beautiful voice. He felt her beautiful presence. He breathed the mischievous, yet bliss aroma. All this was meant so much, and it was a memory he would grasp like a cup of lukewarm bubble tea when he felt down. This brought purpose into him. He felt a high sweep through his blood slowly.

He tasted a promise so close to him.

"These memories has all reached the surface of our dreams."

Still feeling bliss, he wasn't aware he was in the eye of the storm all along.

All went silent. The falling mist, the paw-steps of Snowstrike seeking a new dawn, the rain slowly falling. The clouds slowly moving. The echoes fluctuating rapidly.

"Look at yourself."

"Seriously."

"You are a greedy piece of fox-dung, and all you care about is love."

At first, he was malevolent toward Sweetstep after hearing this. His whole life he had been in hot pursuit of an emotion he had missed. He grasped it so many times, and it wandered off.

He wasn't congruent to the lesson this cat existed for a while.

But he thought about it for a few moments, and he realized it was the truth. The answers had been in him all along.

"You think you are far away without it. You think you are complete with it. You look at life with a cynical frame of mind, and you think everyone has it."

"I have died. I am in StarClan. The only purpose of my life was to tell you who you are."

"Look. Look at the steps you make, and take. Look at your feet walking uncontrollably. It is all far away. Where you once stood, it's gone now. You did what you could, but you failed anyway."

He was almost crying now, with insane proportions of fury and fear equal in his voice. He listened as a cat gave his life what it had been missing. He listened as a cat gave him advice that wouldn't die out.

"Look at the simple things in life. Things like going out to catch prey with your fellow Clan-mates. Things like sleeping at night with peace. Things like enjoying a chat. This is what you are missing, not an emotion that had been cursed upon this land."

Anger filled Snowstrike. He felt a collapse of something and a life of something new. Hatred toward him and how he was blinded and banded by love. And in the end, it was something he despised insidiously.

He started on a path of hatred toward Sweetfoot for him appearing in a dream, and stating truths bluntly. There were so much conflicts and divisions, that to be far away wasn't an expression anymore.

"Make me a promise. Another one, this time one I won't break. You will walk out of this dream, but you won't be far away."

Snowstrike meowed, "I promise I will try."

He realized he had tried so hard to perfect a flaw that made him who he was.

He realized he had tried so hard to stay right there, when he was far away from it all.

He realized that whatever promises was in front of him, he'd be at a division in taking it.

He realized he had just started from the start.

A start. A start of a start.

All of the places we kept saying I'd go. The times that are cherished in the most sacred vaults of my heart, and the steps I took. I know I know whom I am, but that is constantly changing. It's all leading far away. From where I was, I did what I could. It's not simple, neither is it easy. But I will start from the start. And I will start from my start. I hate you, and I must run away, far away. Farewell, RiverClan I knew. Farewell, forest that I once knew.

I don't know if I am breaking this promise or not. I have no idea of a metaphorical distance, especially in the midst of being near a wretch like me.

I'll try as hard as I can to not break under the pressure.

I won't be far away. I promise.

All I can say now, is good-bye.

And he woke up. And he walked, and he didn't know where he'd be. But he'd rebirth, like a captain abandoning his ship, like a twoleg dying, like a bee stinging to prevent his hive from being destroyed.

In the end, he had no idea of where he'd be, both ways. But he felt a calling leading him far away again. And he felt happiness, at last.

Perhaps this is what she wanted, in the endgame. He thought. Maybe this promise can be exploited, and I can be far away again.