&Chapter Four;

"I don't want to speak with you, Stonepaw."

"But… Whisperpaw… why…?"

"You very well know why."

And so, the ivory colored she-cat with such a gaze that was so captivating simply left me there standing and staring after her, a heartbroken and stricken look on my face. I bowed my head in shame, tears pricking at my eyes and threatening to spill out in a furious torrent. I would not let other cats see my cry. I would not. Would not.

Casting my eyes upward, I saw Whisperpaw padding to Thornpaw, the white she-cat greeted by the usual chorus of praises. Resentment raged in me, my claws sheathing and unsheathing as they dug into the rich earth underneath. My muscles tensed, almost until I couldn't control the feelings of fury that stormed in me, threatening to burst out.

"She ain't all too nice, is she, furball?"

I turned around, a sigh of relief issuing from my throat when I heard whom the words were coming from. Saffronpaw. In situations, especially ones that frustrated me, she was like my savior – my only hold on to sanity and remaining normal.

Saffronpaw's voice was clear and easy-going, her complete demeanor relaxed. Still, she could fly into an extremely heated temper with just a few words to provoke her. Right now, she could be classified as my only friend.

For the whole time I had been awake today, I had been receiving glares and side-glances from other cats. Words shared with them were few and cold, and not at all satisfying my need for conversation. Saffronpaw was the only cat that would willingly speak with me, but her mentor kept her out and I couldn't particularly get a chance to speak to her. Each time I tried, she said she was busy, but as this progressed I began to think that it was because her mentor didn't want me interacting with her. Aspenpaw tried her best to help, but she herself had a lot of duties as a medicine cat apprentice.

I endured this all the best that I could, but it was hard. Obviously. Currently, I was seated in the middle of the DawnClan Camp, looking around at all the scenery surrounding the Camp. In truth, this was a lot like one of those days, like the ones in the beginning of my story in which I was sitting by myself, reminiscing, while watching Thornpaw talk on and on to Whisperpaw, praising her nonstop.

Ever since those cold words from Whisperpaw a few days before, sadness had inhabited my very being, my very soul. If only any other cat besides her had said words like that to me, I wouldn't have let myself succumb to these desolate feelings. If it hadn't been for Saffronpaw and Aspenpaw as well as a few other cats who were faithful to me and sympathized with me, I would've wanted to stop living all together. It wasn't even that this was such a dire thing – even if Whisperpaw didn't love me, I wanted her to at least like me as a friend, if possible.

"I still can't get over it. I miss Icepaw so much. If it weren't for you and your sweet voice, your gorgeous eyes, and everything about you that soothes me, I wouldn't have the will at all to live anymore."

There was that voice again. Irritation rippled through me. I drew a line in the ground with my paw, twitching. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to hearing these words – was I to laugh, cry, or ignore it all?

Loving another outside of your family was such a fickle thing. After all, what was the real meaning of love? Was it sharing sweet, whispered words? Was it the gentle brush of someone's tail against your flank? Or was it just the fact that mates bore kits?

"I'm sorry for your loss, Thornpaw."

A deep sigh issued from my throat. Whisperpaw. Her clear, bell-like voice came out in a melodic tone, quiet and barely audible as she expressed her condolences towards Thornpaw. I couldn't quite tell if they were real or not, but the whole entire thing just infuriated me.

"Still hanging over her, I see. You're too good for her, furball. You gotta realize that. I mean, please. You really want to spend the rest of your life padding after a she-cat who's not even going to pay you the least mind?"

Saffronpaw. No matter how much I valued her as a friend, there were some times when what she said could trigger the anger in me. I whipped around, preparing a sharp retort, then faltered. I had never really been all that great at comebacks, and words often had to be planned in my mind before I was able to say them aloud.

I think Saffronpaw used this inability of mine to come up with an argument to her advantage. A slight purr rumbled in her throat as she gave me a slight nudge. "Don't worry, furball. You'll get over this sooner or later. I promise you, you'll live." She looked at me, an earnest look in her eyes.

What was I kidding myself? I couldn't stay mad at Saffronpaw – she was my very best friend, practically. I gave another sigh, then looked at her.

"You really sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Really really sure?"

"Positive."

Then why did I feel so… empty? Why did there have to be so much drama in my life? Why couldn't things just be… normal? Why did love have to be such a fickle and hard thing to comprehend? Yet… again... what was the true meaning of love? Was it the gentle brush of someone's pelt against yours? Or was it the light touch of a cat's nose to your flank? Or was love just measured in the amounts of purrs shared with each other during tender moments?

Lowering my head onto my paws and settling into a comfortable position, I stared out around the Camp, the flickering images of Whisperpaw and Thornpaw reflecting in my eyes. I gave a start when I felt a familiar pelt touch mine lightly, my muscles tensing, but I soon relaxed, bringing myself to a tranquil state, allowing myself to doze off slightly, Saffronpaw right next to me.

The voices in the DawnClan Camp slowly began to fade away, turning into mumblings and murmurs, before finally disappearing altogether as my eyelids fluttered until my eyes shut.

Dreams are an interesting thing. They can just pop out of nowhere unexpectedly, and you can never really know what to make of them. Whether they're just a figment of your own imagination or a true message from StarClan, one can never really be sure. Sleep somewhat soothed the ache that clung onto me while I was enduring the fact that I had killed my own brother and that the she-cat I loved now despised me, but it only dulled the pain a little.

Breathing in deeply, I opened my eyes – yet I wasn't awake. No – I was in an unknown place, yet this place seemed as recognizable and comfortable to inhabit as if it were DawnClan Camp all over again. In fact, if I examined it closely, this place had many of the same similarities to the dense forests and small bodies of water that made up the territory of the DawnClan Camps.

"Welcome, Stonepaw."

The voice was well known to me, and a sense of recognition caused a lump in my throat to rise. I looked up, my eyes welling slightly with tears.

"Icepaw!" Icepaw's name was choked out from me, filled with anguish. I rushed forward towards the figure of my brother. "Icepaw! I can't— Please — I—" The words came out in a flustered voice. During the period after I had killed Icepaw, the words had been locked up in me. It seemed as if all of a sudden they were all trying to get out, causing me to trip over what I had to say.

"At ease, brother. You've been forgiven long before, Stonepaw. Over time, the other cats will eventually forget about me, and I'll just be a cat that lived whose life was taken at an early age as an apprentice. It has happened before – accidents."

I couldn't take it. How could he act so casual and calm as he spoke of his own death and how it had happened? How could he…? Why couldn't he be angry with me? At least if he were angry at me, it would feel better than this current emotion – as if he understood and had forgiven me for everything. "Why can you find room in your heart to forgive me? Why do you not hate me?" I asked, my voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.

"Hate is a harsh word. A very, very harsh word. Hate is when you have your heart absolutely dead set against something and you want to cut it out of your life forever. You realize, Stonepaw, that I could never to that against you – my own kin. Even if we were never really that close… well, you're still kin, and there's nothing that can change that. It's not your fault that I was stupid enough to be daydreaming about Saffronpaw…"

I turned my gaze on Icepaw, a puzzled look in my eyes. Saffronpaw? When Icepaw saw me looking at him like that, he immediately looked rather disheveled as he tried to cover up for what he was saying.

"I mean… So… On a different notice…" he stammered out. If it were a possibility for cats to blush, I swear, Icepaw would've probably turned a bright crimson red color.

"Saffronpaw?" I asked, pressing the subject, failing to see that it was making Icepaw rather uncomfortable. Instead of the pain that I was still suffering at Icepaw's death, I was now filled with a rather teasing emotion as if we were still back in the DawnClan Camp, as if nothing had ever happened.

Icepaw proceeded to change the subject by talking about other light-hearted matters, pretending to not hear me.

Icepaw… Saffronpaw… Icepaw and Saffronpaw… How interesting.