The ritual was scary, everyone knew that.
Not everyone came out alive, everyone knew that.
But no one seemed to know just how scary it was, or why you didn't come out. Some said there was a monster down in the tunnels that ate softpaws, and if the softpaw could best it in a fight, they got to get out and be made a sharpclaw. Some said the earth would swallow the unworthy whole. Some said there was fire down there.
Fallen Leaves had never imagined water.
He had been down her for longer than he could keep track of. Prey was getting scarcer and scarcer. He was down to two meals a day, if he was lucky. And there wasn't much water to drink.
So when he smelled water in the tunnels, he rushed to find it. A surprisingly large and deep-looking river appeared before him, the soft rush of water making birdsong to his ears. It was hard to see in the tunnels, but he could imagine how clear it must be, for the smell was even richer and brighter than the water in the Great Lake.
Fallen Leaves took a few slow sips of water, lapping with his soft, pink tongue, savoring the cool, wet sensation that was coursing through his mouth and down his gullet. It tasted clean, and he drank until he felt his belly might burst. There was water dripping from his long, silvery whiskers, and it stained his white fur, but he didn't care. Staying alive was his only goal now.
The ginger-patched cat laid down by the river for a quick nap. He stared up into the darkness, now used to the choking feeling they gave him. "Am I going to die down here?" he asked the blackness, nervously kneading his own chest in panic. "Is this all I have left? Tunnels?"
"Try not to die by the river," a raspy voice said, and Fallen Leaves jumped to his paws. He hadn't smelled or heard a cat in ages! "It's awfully messy."
"Who are you?! Where are you? Show yourself!" the young tom snarled, lashing his tail to and fro.
A grayish-pink cat stepped out from the shadows. Fallen Leaves flinched in repulsion - this cat had no hair, and his silvery blue eyes nearly buldged out of his pointy skull. What little fur he did have was in ugly, useless patches, and his claws looked like he hadn't worn them down in seasons. "Yes, you clearly see now I'm not capable of killing you, at the very least." He wedged a stick out from behind a small rock, and Fallen Leaves's green eyes followed as the hairless cat's paw dragged down it slowly. "You've been down here for much longer than the others, I'm surprised you managed to stay alive this long. Your friends above would be impressed."
Fallen Leaves's suspicion about the hairless cat started to fade. He was clearly incapable of fighting, and he seemed to know the ways of his group. "Are you going to guide me out? Have I passed the test?"
The hairless cat looked bemused. "Test? There's no test here. I don't know why your group sends you down here. It's suicide. It's sheer dumb luck that you idiots even make it out in the first place. I've only started keeping track for fun."
"Why are you down here if you can't help me?"
The cat gave him a stern look with his blind eyes. "Sad to say, but the whole world doesn't revolve around your little family. I live here. These tunnels are my home."
"Then why can't you help me outside?" Fallen Leaves asked, his tone more pleading than he'd anticipated. "Please. I just want to go home. I don't care if I stay a softpaw and go back the way I came. I'm totally lost. Please, please help me. I don't want to die here."
The hairless cat seemed to look at him for a while, then sighed. "I can't help you. I am bound to these tunnels and to the souls that die here. I can never go outside, and I cannot lead one of my ward astray."
"So what? I'm going to die? I'm going to die and you're going to do nothing?! What kind of cat lets another cat die!?"
The old cat rose to his feet, stroking his stick. "If that happens, you will understand why I cannot show you the way out. If you live, you can tell all the others about me and how cruel I am. We'll wait and see."
Fallen Leaves puffed out his chest in desperate hope to seem brave. "I will make it out. And when I do, I demand to know what name I should call you by when I tell everyone what a monster you are."
"A monster. So my legend has spread." He twitched what little whiskers he had, pleased. "Fine then. My name is Rock."
Fallen Leaves padded slowly down the river, trying to follow it to its end. Where there was a river, there was either a mouth or a source. One or the other had a good chance of getting him aboveground. And, thank the old ones, there were small fish swimming in the river that he could snap up and eat to help satisfy the hunger clawing at his stomach.
As he walked, he thought more and more of home. He thought of Furled Bracken and Broken Shadow, he thought of his friends, he thought of the other softpaws. Could the last time he spoke to them really be the very last time? How many times had he said "I love you?" How many times had he taken time out of his day to show them that he cared? How often had he hidden his true feelings that he would never be able to show? As he followed the river into the seemingly endless black, was he following the path to his own demise?
He really, really hoped not.
Little worms crawled through the walls of the tunnels, and Fallen Leaves pulled his ears back. The tunnels here were no longer stone. Soil could crumble, but stone couldn't. Was it really safe to go on? Should he turn back?
The ginger and white tom looked ahead. He could smell fresh earth above the dank smell of the caves, and swore if he looked hard enough, he saw light ahead of him. "No," he said to himself. "No, I'm not turning back. I came all this way, I must get out. I must." He broke out into a desperate run. "I must live!"
"I must live," he said over and over, even as the floor began to get closer to the roof of the cave. "I must live," he said, even as his ears touched earth. "I must live," he said, even as he saw water pouring down from the earth above him into the tunnels. "I must live," he said, as he dug his nails into the soil that blocked the entrance. "I must live," he said as he pulled the mud away, staining his coat brown. "I must live," he said as he saw daylight break through, his first glimpse of light in ages.
But as the light came through the earth, so did the torrent of water. It smashed into Fallen Leaves's light body like a ferocious paw, knocking him off his feet and into the expanding river. He tried to get his head above water, but got tossed around by the current. His legs flailed in a frenzy beneath him, his mouth opening as he gasped for air. He sucked in water, choking on what had given him life just hours ago. He tried and tried to get above the water's surface, but as his nose broke through the surface, mud clogged his nostrils. The cave flooded!
He flipped around, dragging more water into his weakening lungs, looking for a way out. But there was no escape. Everywhere he saw was filled with water. His lungs, eyes, nose, and mouth were filled with water.
I loved them so much, he thought, despair making his body sag. I couldn't... I'm sorry...
And the world closed around him, swallowing him whole.
His tongue rasped against the skin of his paw. He had no real need to groom anymore, but old habits die hard. He had heard one of the cave's many rivers expanding and had gotten to high ground as quickly as he could. Now the water was gushing in below him, and he listened to the sound of it filling up the cave. He found the sounds of the caves changing quite soothing. It saved him from dull monotony, at least.
A voice suddenly whistled in his ears. "Rock, down there! It's a cat!"
"The one from before?" Rock asked, twitching his ears and straining to hear. Surely enough, there was indeed something large floating in the river's current, banging against the cave wall with a sickening thud.
"Yes, I'm sure," the voice said. "Is he one of us now?"
"Let me check. Wait here, Swan Call."
The black-furred apparition curled its tail around its paws and waited patiently as the ancient cat picked up his life stick and walked down the cave's wall. He fit his paws into the openings expertly; he had been down here so long that no crevice was unknown to him.
"Fallen Leaves?" Rock called, but he got no answer. "Young cat. Softpaw. Fallen Leaves."
As his feet touched a soft, furry, sopping wet thing, Rock knew he had found his funny little friend. "Ah, there you are, Fallen Leaves. Got into some trouble, did you? No matter. Let me check on you." Rock bent his head down and felt around with his face until he found the young tom's neck. He pressed and waited, but there was no life there. "Ah, that's a shame. And you had such a thirst for life."
Rock picked up his life stick, bouncing it in his paws. "But, I suppose your thirst is what got you here in the first place, isn't it?" He chuckled with a grin somewhere between nasty and regretful. Rock himself couldn't even tell anymore. "No matter. Your time here has ended."
The hairless cat extended one of his long, yellowish claws and felt where Fallen Leaves's first scratch had been, the one from when Rock had seen him enter the tunnels. But rather than making a hatch through it, as he did for those who lived, he dug his claw into it a second time, making the cut deeper. One simple scratch.
"Where am I? Am I with the old ones?" Rock heard a familiar voice say. His ears swiveled. This spirit was going to be lively for some time.
"No, Fallen Leaves. You're in the tunnels, still."
"Still? But I... but I died! How am I still here?"
"Every cat who dies here stays here. I'm the only one who can see your ghosts. I am your new guardian." He turned to where Fallen Leaves was speaking from and flashed his nasty yellow teeth in a smile. "Monster and savior all in one."
Rock could hear the horror in Fallen Leaves's voice, and the ghostly cat even gasped for breath. He wouldn't need that anymore.
"Come on, I'll introduce you to the others."