Chapter 3: Illusions Are Real

I storm into the apprentice's den, my fury going over the sides. How dare my mother pair me up with a rogue, much less one that had a lack of respect for her clan! I let out a low growl as I stuff myself into my nest.

"I can't believe it just had to be Feathernose," I mutter under my breath.

Feathernose, the darned prisoner-turned-warrior, the favored one in the clan. She got that 'title' just because she knew how to fight well and somehow worked her way up to the approval of many senior warriors. I'd never learned to trust an outsider who had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere and claimed that they wanted to join the clans… It would more or less be likely that she was here to spy and not learn.

No, Valleypaw, I think to myself. It's going to happen no matter what. Now stop fussing over what's already happened and just go back to sleep. You have a large event happening tomorrow that you simply cannot fail.

"Especially to a rogue," I say aloud. "I refuse to lose to a rogue."

"Valleypaw, what are you talking about?"

My head shoots up. Fernsplash!

My mentor, standing regal and tall at the mouth of the apprentices' den, frowns disapprovingly at me.

"I told you not to fan that competitive spark of yours," she reprimands me. "That's what keeping you from going forwards. You should learn to respect Flamepool as well, Valleypaw – she is your mother, after all."

"If she cares for me as a son, she should know better than to pair me up with Feathernose," I mutter as I rebury my muzzle deep into the moss bedding.

"Are you really sure that you're not scared of being beaten by Feathernose?" Fernsplash asks, amusement clouding her meow. My ears grow hot – Fernsplash is mostly right. I am afraid that I'll lose to the gray tabby warrior – and I'm also afraid of being a disgrace.

"Valleypaw." Fernsplash's firm voice makes me raise my head up a bit to stare at her. "Stop doubting yourself. You will do perfectly fine, as long as you believe in yourself." She stoops lower into the cave and presses her nose to my forehead. "Think about that while you rest. You do have a big day tomorrow."

"Thanks for the advice," I murmur quietly.

"You're welcome," Fernsplash calls over her shoulder. I hear a fwump kind of noise as Fernsplash leaps down the boulders that lead up to the apprentices' den.

I yawn largely once and close my eyes. Falling asleep is immediate.

A moment of peace, then something prods me.

"Thicketpaw, I just fell asleep," I grumble. "Don't tell me you want me to help you memorize the history of the clan again."

Another prod.

"Thicketpaw, go ask Adderstone. Or Thornpaw. Or Creekwater. Just someone that's not me, okay?"

A third prod gets me to contemplate shredding that darned idiot.

A fourth prod, and I'm already sheathing and unsheathing my claws repeatedly.

A fifth prod, and I'm getting up, growling, "Okay, you fluffy idiot, let's see how you like it when - "

I stop talking. I have to. The scenery surrounding me is no longer the gray walls of the apprentice den. It's a large, foggy plain. My eyes widen considerably as I look around – I can't see anything, and I'm alone. A sound of a twig cracking echoes through the lonely field. I flinch. Or maybe not.

"Who's there?" I call. The plain seems a little wider than before for some reason. "Show yourself!"

"Really?" a low, feminine voice speaks. "Why should I?"

"Because…" I rack my head to find a reason. "Because you're part of my imagination!"

"That's ridiculous," the voice purrs. Is she moving in circles? I can't pinpoint her exact location; the words are coming from every single direction. "You and I both know that I'm real – and I was real. You learn about me in your clan history."

"Wait – so you're dead? I'm dreaming about a dead cat?"

"Well, why not? Medicine cats dream about them all the time. We visit our own loved ones quite often, you know."

"Then why doesn't anyone talk about it?"

"Would you go around talking about how your dead relative appeared in your dreams and gave you a blessing? Cats stare at weird things, you know."

"True."

"See?" the she-cat squealed. "We agree with each other!"

"That's just a statement of opinion that everyone will agree with. It's common sense. Also, could you please show yourself? I can't trust you if I don't see you."

"That's no fun!"

I let out an exasperated sigh. If this cat is dead, why does she make me feel like I'm talking to a newborn kit?

"You know, Rabbitkit would most certainly be preferable over this!" I shout at the fog. "You're really immature or you're crazy!"

"Well, everyone's a little crazy; I'm sure you are crazy – crazily obsessed with competition!" A wild shriek of laughter rings out.

A chill runs down my spine. "How do you know that? Wait – don't tell me, it's because you're in my head."

I don't get a chance to hear whatever strange reply she gives me. There's a sudden tug on my scruff and I'm dragged into the murky fog; suddenly all I can hear is the muffled grunts of whoever's dragging me, the rumble of gravel under my back, and the shuffling of dry grass. Thumps are put into this cacophony as I realize that I'm being kidnapped and thrash in the firm grasp of my captor.

"Keep still, will you?" This time, the speaker is a male – he has a very low rumble of a voice.

"How am I supposed to keep still when someone's kidnapping me?" I hiss, still writhing around. "This is the second time I've been handled roughly in a dream!"

"Well, sucks to be you, then. Now shut up. She can still hear you talking."

"Who are we talking about?"

"I can't invoke her name – that would most likely be a clear signal of who I am for her."

"Why is that?"

"I told you to shut your chatty mouth. So, shut it!"

I close my mouth sharply. That she-cat didn't sound sane at all. I start to wonder if being alone in a large plain could make you go insane, when the tom drops me. I instantly bolt to my paws, hackles raised.

There's no one there.

"At most," I snarl, "you could be a bit saner than whoever she was and show yourself!"

A long, drawn out sigh. "I suppose I could." There's the low rustle of leaves as the tom reveals himself. A pair of green eyes stare back at me as a lithe white-and-brown tom pads out of the fog. His long fur is ruffled by the sudden wind blowing around us as he steps towards me, broad scars visible on his neck and his back. One green eye, I realize in sudden fright, is pale and unseeing; the fur surrounding that eye has been torn off in three long marks across it.

"Are you also dead?" I ask in a small voice.

The tom inclines his head. "I am a cat of past lives – although one of the only few up here."

"So, there are more dead cats around here?"

"Indeed. We do not interest ourselves in meddling in the present-day world, but with her rampaging around, it's going to be very likely that we will be interfering in your business."

"Why?" I croak. "Can't you keep your dratted paws out of the world this time? Last time, you promised us a land of prosperity and peace. Look at what happened then!"

The tom visibly winces. "We…" he pauses for a moment, before going on: "We apologize for that mess."

"You better be sorry," I spit at him, lips curled back.

"I am," he insists. "We are." He looks up, ears pricked. "You better wake now, Valleypaw," he meows. "Someone's calling you."

"Wait, how do you know my name?" I demand. The field is growing smaller and smaller, fog disappearing into white light. "What am I supposed to call you?"

The tom calls out an answer but I can't hear; my ears have already been filled with the frantic shrieks of Thicketpaw.

"Valleypaw! Valleypaw! You overslept again!" he screeches in my ears, fur bushed out.

"I get it, I get it!" I snap at the younger apprentice, stretching luxuriously. "Jeez, Thicketpaw, my ears are ringing now!"

"Sorry!" Thicketpaw yelps before practically throwing himself out of the den.

"Idiot," I mutter. As I pad out of the den, I try to remember what happened last night. A crazy she-cat laughed at me, and a tom kidnapped me. Did I receive an 'omen'?

I shake my head. No, those are silly thoughts meant for kits. I have bigger things to focus on.

"Valleypaw!" Thornpaw's voice shocks me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I hiss irritably at her face.

Her face twists into a frown. "I was just going to wish you good luck," she mumbles.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I sneer. "I place my priority as being a competent warrior, not a lucky medicine cat."

Thornpaw sighs and turns away, her usually well-groomed tail dragging limply on the ground, fur ruffled. Larkeye barges out of the medicine cat den and heads towards me, nearly knocking into her apprentice as she does so.

"Are you ready to go?" she asks briskly.

"Why are you asking me that?" I inquire.

"Well, since Feathernose does unsheathe her claws often during mock battles, I've been asked to be there in case you get hurt."

"That is truly unnecessary. I'm not going to get hurt at any point of time. I'm going against a former rogue, for the sake of the stars. It's not like I'm fighting an entire pack of dogs."

"Better to call the medicine cat before than later," Larkeye mews. "Come on. We're wasting time."

The brown medicine cat bounds off towards the expectant group of cats at the entrance: Flamepool, Fernsplash, and Feathernose. I can't help but steal a glance at the russet tabby leader. If she saw it, she doesn't respond; she only stares blankly over my shoulder.

Stifling a growl, I leap towards them.

"I see that you overslept again," Fernsplash comments with a purr. "Better be sharp on your paws when you become a warrior! Havenpelt would claw your fur off if you oversleep like that!"

"More like if he becomes a warrior," Feathernose remarks snidely. She narrows her eyes at me. "It's not like he has a large chance of becoming so."

"Enough jabber, the two of you," Flamepool meows calmly. "Hurling insults won't help settling his nerves, Feathernose." She turns her green gaze to me. "Are you ready?"

I dip my head as a sign of confirmation.

"Let's go." We head out.