Part One: Dreams
The leaves rustled in the treetops. Every few heartbeats or so another leaf would float down to the ground somewhere, carried by the gentle breeze. The calm, pale blue sky was clear of clouds. Occasionally the shadow of a bird would cross the sunlight-dappled forest floor. It was a perfect, serene day in leaf-fall.
The only thing missing was the other cats.
The white-and-ginger she-cat ran through the forest, her paws barely skimming the ground. She maneuvered through the trees, knowing to turn here, or jump over a fallen log there. She knew the layout of the forest as well as she knew herself. Unfortunately, the stupid squirrel she was following knew the land well, too. She picked up speed, jumping at just the right moment to catch the squirrel between her front paws and wrestle it to the ground.
She rolled to a halt, clutching the now-dead piece of prey. Standing up, she shook the dust from her pelt. She took a few heartbeats to clean her pelt a bit, then turned her sharp, leaf-green gaze back to the squirrel.
It was a good catch, she had to admit. Most cats wouldn't be able to make a catch like that. She was getting faster, stronger, more confident. Still, she felt a twinge of regret. She wished she had someone to share the catch with. If her friend were still here, she could eat it with him, telling him about the exhilarating chase between mouthfuls. Unfortunately, her friend wasn't there anymore.
No one was.
She glanced back at a particularly large old tree a few fox-lengths back. If her friend, family, and all the others were still around, she wouldn't have been able to chase the squirrel so far. The tree used to mark the border between her Clan and another. If the cats from the other Clan had been patrolling their borders, she would have been caught by now. The Clans didn't cross borders for a reason. Her head clouded with memories, she picked up the squirrel and started padding back the way she had come, casting a mournful glance at the old tree as she passed it.
She reached the camp that used to be inhabited by her Clan. Whisps of fading scent brought back even more memories: apprentices play-fighting all over camp, cranky elders complaining about the snow, excited kits waiting for their apprentice names. It was all so bittersweet. She lay down the squirrel and tucked in to eat it.
When she was full, she glared down at the remains of the animal. There was still enough to feed another cat. Back when the Clan was still around, prey was never wasted, and no cat would go hungry if it could be helped at all. They all shared their prey with the other cats, but now the squirrel would be left to become crow-food. She pawed at the squirrel with disgust and stalked over to her den.
She was, admittedly, staying in the old leader's den. It was the most sheltered place in the abandoned camp. If there was rain or snow, she would shelter there; if it was cold, she would sink into the warm, welcoming nest and sleep in the warmth of the moss. It felt wrong, invading the leaders' den like that; she had to remind herself constantly that the leader wasn't there to tell her off anymore.
Nudging the small clump of undergrowth right in front of the entrance to the den aside, she realized that she would eventually have to clean the camp again. Clearing it of undergrowth and brambles served two purposes: she wouldn't have to trip over the plants every pawstep she took, and if the Clan ever came back, she wanted them to find their camp clean and orderly.
If, if, if. It always came down to if. If the Clans came back, if she ever found another cat, if she didn't have to be alone anymore. What good was wishing and hoping when she knew that the Clan was probably gone forever? All the same, the she-cat couldn't block the thoughts from her mind. It was impossible to forget the cats who had raised her, trained with her, and fought beside her in battles. What kind of coldhearted fox would that make her, to just forget her entire past and try to pretend that the present was the only time? Shaking her head, she padded into the den and curled up in the nest.
She was so, so tired. Every day she went out as far as she could to try and find other cats, and she had to chase prey for herself, too. Between the long journeys away from the territories and the inevitable task of chasing prey, she rarely had much energy left by the end of the day. Grateful for the warmth and shelter, she sank down into the moss and fell asleep.
Her dreams were dark and shadowed.
Cats yowled all around her, but when she looked, no one was there. Shivering with fear as vast as the sky, she looked around, trying to find a way out. But no escape showed itself to her, and she didn't know what to do. She couldn't even see the moon and stars through the thick canopy of trees.
"Morningflame!" a sudden, familiar voice screeched, thick with anguish. Her ears pricked as she tried to pinpoint the source of the voice. All she could see was shadows, and the looming, ominous silhouettes of gnarled trees pointing accusingly into the empty night sky. "Morningflame!" the voice cried again, echoing around the void of her mind.
"Whitefire?" the she-cat yowled desperately. "Whitefire, where are you?"
"I am nowhere," the wind whispered, cruelly wrapping the tom's voice around the she-cat's ears. "I am nowhere, and I am no one. We are no more." The wind whisked the words away, and the she-cat's eyes filled with tears.
"White . . . fire," she choked out. Her paws collapsed from under her, and she sank to the cold ground, shaking with sobs. "It's over," she whispered, and all was black.
She woke in the familiar nest in the leader's den, cold with horror.
As the dream rushed back to her, she stumbled to her paws and padded to the entrance of the den. Looking at the still-dark sky, she wondered how many of the stars were still watching her. Had StarClan disappeared with their friends and relatives on the ground? Was she truly, truly all alone?
"Oh, Whitefire," she whispered to the lonesome sky. "Where did you go?"
Morningflame rested her head on the edge of the nest. Two moons had passed since her first dream about Whitefire, and ever since then she kept hearing his voice in her sleep.
She'd also been rethinking her idea to look for other cats. What was the point, really? She had been taking care of herself well enough, so other cats would be able to as well. Besides, she was wasting time looking where she'd already looked. It was time to face the facts: either no other cat was left, or they were too far away for her to reach.
She sighed as her stomach rumbled. She hadn't hunted for a few days, but she really needed fresh-kill. Heaving herself to her paws, Morningflame made her way into the camp.
Even after only two moons, the camp was already overgrown and unkempt, and remains of days-old prey littered the ground, but Morningflame didn't care. No one was coming back. No one else was going to see the camp, so she didn't need to spend time and energy taking care of it. Turning away, she went out into the forest.
The scents and sounds of prey tempted her, but she didn't want to hunt quite yet. She wove through the trees until she reached the moorland. A different Clan had once inhabited the open hills. Horizonflame hadn't explored too much of the moorlands because she didn't like the open spaces. Now, though, she thought that if no one was hunting there, why shouldn't she explore it?
Crossing the place where the border used to be, she briefly felt a thrill at crossing Clan lines, but she squashed it away. It wasn't something to be excited about. Not anymore. She kept walking.
Heather and wind. That was really all that was on the moor. Crossing hill after hill, Morningflame was about ready to turn back when the scent of prey brushed her nose.
Rabbit! Rabbits didn't cross into her Clan's old territory very often, so it was a great treat if someone caught a rabbit. The she-cat dropped into a hunting crouch and pinpointed the source of the scent.
Sure enough, a brown rabbit was hopping through the long grass nearby. She positioned herself, then sprang forward at it. The rabbit started and raced away. Morningflame ran after it, but it disappeared in a patch of heather, and she lost it.
Frustrated, she was about to turn angrily and leave when another scent caught her attention. She opened her mouth and breathed in the scent. A wave of shock rushed through her. It was impossible!
The scent was growing stale, but it was still there. The source must have passed through the area — and no more than a moon ago, if the scent was any indication. Morningflame felt a jolt of thrill run down her spine. She shook out her fur and turned back in the direction of her camp, hardly daring to believe it.
The scent was cat.
A/N: How is it so far?
Feedback is appreciated! c: