Dovefeather followed me slowly into the hollows, he pawsteps crunching on the bright and colorful fallen leaves. I pretended to hear them, but I don't because this is just a dream.
"Where are we going?" She asks me, her voice as beautiful as birdsong. She was so innocent, so trusting.
But I will hear her voice again when I wake up because this is just a dream.
I don't answer though. My tail swishes anxiously without my command, because this is just a dream. The two large rocks mark this place, they rest beside a small sparkling stream. I could probably walk there with my eyes closed, but I'm not there. My claws dig into the ground, my breathing getting heavy.
"I'm sorry," I don't say.
I don't hear her horrifying, high-pitched screams as I don't rip my claws through her throat. I don't feel the cool of the water wash away the blood stains from my not-bloody claws. I don't feel my heart beating with terror and relief, even though I only feel the former in reality.
I awake, automatically holding in a scream of my own. Even though dream cats don't scream. I slowly make my way out of camp, gently maneuvering my way around sleeping cats. My brown fur is ruffled, it too is scared. How silly a thought, to be scared of a dream. That's all it is, not a memory, not me.
"Hi, Oakpelt," Dovefeather purrs in greeting. "Up early again, huh?"
Me and Dovefeather have become distant ever since the dreams. It was my own doing as well; she did not know about the dreams. No one knew, because there is no point in knowing. I would have told the medicine cat, but there was no point. It wasn't because I was scared of what he would say, It was because it was just a dream; and if I keep telling myself that, then maybe the dreams will stop.
I'm not a murderer. I assure myself, just for good measure. I have no reason to kill Dovefeather, she is so innocent and kind. She has never done me wrong in any way, and I still long for the times when we were still friends.
"Oakpelt!" A voice calls, startling me out of my thoughts. "Since you two are up so early, you can join me on dawn patrol."
After we gather two more cats, we leave the camp. The grass is mushy, I'll focus my mind on that. I don't look at Dovefeather, though I unconsciously touch her once in a while, to make sure she's still there. Although there is nothing that would ever take her away. As we turn left, my feet start to freeze up. We're going to the place. The place where I (didn't) kill her. The place that was too real to be reality, and yet here it was.
I run. I flee because I am afraid. Of the dream, of the memory, of myself.