So, uh, I kind of accidentally deleted this chapter while fixing it, so I lost...all my ANs. XD Sorry!

I had to go through and delete all the quotes, but I wouldn't want to waste such a good time for a quote for my less-constructive readers. ;)

"Thou unfit for any place but hell."

Richard III, Act 1, Scene 2

"Twist! Twist, come back!" Declan called but she didn't even look, didn't even turn around, not once. He gritted his teeth, his eyes half-squinted, and then he fell backwards onto his back, his tail brushing up. His paws hooked over his muzzle, hiding his eyes, and he growled to himself, "Stupid! Why would you say that to her?"

He felt like a moron. Of course he should have told her about his nightmares. Of course.

But why hadn't he?

All the while she had been talking, Declan hadn't been able to bring himself to say it. It must have been because of his cowardice, he thought harshly. He obviously wasn't a real tom. He was a mouse. A tiny, puny, disgusting little vermin. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth to the cat he loved more than everything else combined.

"Stupid," he said again, softly, not moving his paws. His face pressed into his forepaws, he kept still for a moment, his heart beating so loudly that whoever slept next door surely must have heard it.

The nightmares swarmed onto him like ants, burrowing into his pelt, into his mind, twisting his thoughts into something they weren't. They couldn't be. He hated everything about it. He hated that Braiser still had this hold over him. He hated that he couldn't tell Twist about it, imagining the look on her face if she heard that her father still haunted him.

But mostly, he hated himself for being so weak as to have the dreams in the first place.

He didn't sleep that night. He kept himself awake, alert, all night long. He paced around the den, the space where Twist normally was. It usually just took her scent or the sound of her breathing to soothe him but now…

Now were they even together anymore?

When day finally broke, sending shafts of soft, deep red light into the den, Declan pushed himself off of where he was leaning on the wall and set about going to find her. The morning tasted like rain—a good sign for warmer weather—as he strode down the winding path from the box-nests, his nose in the air to detect any scent of Twist.

There was no sign of her throughout the Warren. For one wild moment, he remembered the last time she'd disappeared from him. She'd gone deep into the woods and gotten herself captured by the Claws—setting off the spark that had lit the fire of war. Her actions—and his both—had stirred the Claws like a swarm of angry bees. Nothing had been the same since then.

Nobody was awake yet so Declan drifted to the edge of the box-nests, his eyelids heavy with sleep. This bone-deep tiredness would be the death of him, he thought as he looked into the silent woods. If he didn't kill himself wandering into the claws of the killer, the one whom nobody thought was a myth anymore.

"You look deep in thought." He turned to see Sorrow standing at the base of the next he was perched on.

Coolly, he said, "Hello, Sorrow."

"Good morning." She leapt up beside him, her silky pelt brushing his for a split-second before he pulled away. She made a little noise of surprise.

"Don't think we're friends," Declan said, his voice trying for gentle and getting only weariness. "I stuck up for you because nobody else would."

She clicked her tongue. "Of course. I was just hoping to find a bit of conversation. My cats aren't much for talking yet." She tipped her head to the empty space where the Claws lay together, piles of mangy, lank fur with sharp bones beneath. They looked half-starved.

Declan returned his eyes to the forest. "I wouldn't be the best for that, I'm afraid."

"Yes, you do look tired. Bad dreams?"

He turned to her so quickly he almost unseated himself. "What?"

She looked surprised, and Declan immediately cursed himself for reacting so strongly. "Just wondering. What else would be keeping you up at night? Unless," she went on rather mischievously, "it's a she-cat. All not going well in the land of hearts and flowers?"

I don't want to talk about this and especially not with you, Declan thought. Uneasily, he said, "No, just bad dreams."

"What a terrible liar," she observed. "You'll have to do better than that to fool anybody, you know."

I don't know about that, he thought rather miserably. I've been fooling Twist a long time. "Can I ask you something?" he asked suddenly.

"Depends. Does it have to do with my father?"

Declan stared at her. "No."

She let out a little breath. "Good. I'm so tired of talking about that one." She leaned forward, a bit of something close to wistfulness crossing her face. "What did you want to know?"

"What happened to your eye?" The patch of scabbing over her eye was a crusty red-brown—a tiny, neat mark clearly not done in a very violent situation.

Sorrow blinked; even the unseeing eye twitched a little, which was a bit unnerving. "I did it myself."

Declan's jaw dropped. "Why?"

Sorrow looked uncomfortable. "It was…troublesome. It's a long story."

"I have plenty of time." He tipped his head to gesture to the sleeping Warren.

"Hmm. Your Lucky would not be very happy to know you're speaking with me."

"Then let's not tell him."

She laughed and the sound was all silver, like the wind. "That doesn't sound very loyal."

"On the contrary, I find myself very loyal."

"Okay." She turned her head, throwing the eye into deep shadow from the dawn. "You already know about the Claws? How we're almost entirely gone?"

"I figured as much by looking at your ranks."

She nodded. "The killer has been picking us off, one by one. But he's very choosy about it."

"He?" Declan said.

"Oh, it's a male. I'm sure of it. I've caught his scent before. A very dark scent, too. Like turned earth. Regardless. He's been picking off my cats like a crow. But he passes over some of us." She turned to him then, the tip of her tail coming up to her eyes. "He doesn't kill the ones with matching eyes. Only the marked ones."

Declan was shocked. "Why would he aim for the marked ones?"

"I have no clue. But out of all the Claws that are living now, only three are marked. Rowan, whom you know, Sparrow, whom I wouldn't allow a single cat to ever harm, and one of my queens, the one with the kit. You'd think he wouldn't kill the she-cats but he does." She looked away, her fur bristling. "He went for them first."

Declan shivered. "You didn't include yourself in that count."

"You're right. It's because I'm no longer marked, you see." Her tail tip tapped her wounded eye very gently. "I put out my own eye so I wouldn't be. The blue one. I'm very fond of the silver one. I had to choose between them, you know. Which one to get rid of." Her teeth bared. "My father's eyes were dark amber and blue. I didn't want to be associated with him anymore. But unfortunately, that still seems to be a persisting problem."

"What do you mean?"

Sorrow's eye flashed. "Anymore questions, Declan?" she asked, making it clear she wasn't going to answer that one.

Declan paused. "Why did you want Twist so badly?"

She scoffed. "Must we bring up the past so regularly? I just wanted to talk—I didn't want a history lesson." She leapt to the ground, her missing eye making her landing a little weak. She shuddered as she hit the ground but didn't fall, her plumy tail catching her. Without turning around, she said, "Keep hold of Twist, Declan. Keep hold of everyone you love. Because one day, they might not be there when you wake up."

"Did that happen to you? With who? Your friends?"

Sorrow's shoulders stiffened, as if she'd frozen to ice. After a lengthy pause, she said in a very soft voice, "Everybody." Then she walked away back to the dregs of the Claws, and did not look back.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Not wanting to show everyone how much he was hurting, Declan decided to just head back to his and Twist's den to wait for her. He didn't want anyone to think he was weak for running around crying for Twist like a kit. He had learned a thing or two about pride from her.

Though it didn't stop him from feeling as if his heart had been ripped out.

The emptiness of the den hit him like a physical blow. He laid down in the middle of the dark space, curling his tail around his nose. He was in Twist's spot. He could smell her scent here and even though it lacked her warmth and presence, he closed his eyes and was comforted, if only for a moment.

He wanted her. He wanted her so badly. Why couldn't she see that he couldn't tell her what was going on? Why was it so difficult to tell her everything that was wrong? To lay all his problems out by her feet and be soothed by her honest words, even if they were harsh? Twist was all he ever wanted and now, after being with her for these past moon cycles, to have that all ripped away from him…

He might as well as ripped out all of his insides and set them on display.

And for a moment, a very fleeting moment, he felt derisive of Twist. Wasn't she hurting as much as he was? Didn't she know what she meant to him? How could she just walk out on him like that? Like he didn't even matter? And where had she gone? Why wasn't she here?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Declan never felt anger—not since the war with the Claws—but now it consumed him. It filled his mind with the scent of metal, of rage, of hate—

Of smoke.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Leo didn't understand why he was in this place, this den that smelled like sharp pine sap and Sliders. He didn't like the smell at all. It smelled like the enemy. And some she-cat whose scent lingered in the back of his mind, past the scent of fire. He hated the smell.

He tossed it back behind the curtain of flames and let it burn.

Leo walked outside. It was bright here, very bright, not at all like home. Not where he could lay beneath the trees, the coolness of mud sinking into his fur, blending him into the woods perfectly, flawlessly. He'd learned how the technique worked from his mentor, Rowan.

The Sliders weren't around here for some reason. Leo stuck to the corners and shadows, bringing himself forward pawstep by pawstep. He bared his teeth at the first scent of danger—a tom's smell—but kept going. His paws were ghosting along the ground like cold season leaves.

He made it to the Warren's gate and fled into the cool shelter of the woods.

Inside, it was lovely and dark, much better, much better indeed. Leo kept going, his paws uncertain on this unfamiliar terrain. Soon, his mind told him, he'd be back on the other side of the brook. There, he'd know where to go and how to get home.

Leo kept running. It felt like it'd been forever since he ran. Actually, he thought then, he couldn't remember the last time he ran. He couldn't even remember the last time he remembered anything.

Oh right, he thought. Two nights I ran in these woods.

But why couldn't he remember the daytime?

The brook leapt up in front of him, the waters cool, placid, and gray. He skirted the edge, knowing the place where steppingstones were further upstream. He walked along, happy now to be free of that cluttering Warren. Why had he been there again? And he had smelled familiar scent there—someone's he knew. The name of that cat slipped past his brain and smoldered in the fire.

Leo hopped across the steppingstones easily. He'd done this dozens of times but for some reason, it felt like this was the first time in a long while. He shook his head, hoping to clear away the musty smokiness in his brain.

That stopped him dead. Smoke? The word held some sort of higher meaning that he'd forgotten. It echoed in his brain, clanging around in the silence. He even spoke it aloud to see if it would trigger anything.

But nothing happened.

Did I injure my head? Did I do something to make me forget everything? The fear of that almost overcame his happiness to be out in the woods. Almost.

Come on, now. It wasn't his voice speaking to him. Almost home. Come to me, Leo.

It was his Master speaking to him. It had happened only once during his time as a Claw guard and that was when the Master was standing in front of him. Leo had been a little afraid of the Master, to be honest: he was a scary cat with strange legs and a crooked tail, and half of his fur had been ripped off. The other master, the lesser one with weird eyes, had told only the chosen Claw guards that the Master had fallen off a mountain but still possessed great intellect.

Leo was proud to have been one of those chosen guards. He and a black and white she-cat had been guarding the Master for a little bit together before the Master decided to only go with one guard. Leo had been sent off to Sorrow's camp then, where he'd met that weird she-cat. The tortoiseshell one. What had been her name?

Never mind, never mind. The Master's voice was in his head again, and all other thoughts were thrown aside. Come to me now, Leo.

"Huh? What are you doing?"

Leo turned at the sudden voice, fear surging up into his throat.

It was a she-cat, the most beautiful she-cat that Leo had ever seen. She was pale-furred as a golden moon, with lovely tabby stripes, and golden eyes. Her white paws and belly looked as though she'd been delicately patterned with fresh snow.

"Um." Leo didn't know what to say. He was tongue-tied in this she-cat's presence.

She frowned at him, her brow furrowing over her bright eyes, but even frowning, she was stunning. "Are you okay? Did you get lost?"

"I'm not lost," he said.

"Then where are you going?"

"Home."

Now looking more confused, she put her head to the side. "But the Warren is that way?" she said, flicking her tail behind her.

Affronted, Leo said, "I don't live in the Warren! That's where the Sliders live!"

The she-cat blinked. Blinked again. "Are you feeling alright, Declan?"

Declan.

That named pierced somewhere deep in Leo's brain. He felt the pinch start behind his eyes before the headache overwhelmed him, sinking like fangs into his bones. He groaned, his vision going dark, and he fell forward into darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Declan groaned, feeling a smooth lapping sensation against the side of his head. It was overwhelmingly soothing, and Declan felt his heart rate slow down steadily as the grooming went on. Did I faint? Where am I? There was smooth cardboard beneath his side and the familiar scent of Twist was achingly comforting in his nose.

She had come back to him? Without opening his eyes, he said thickly, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"No need to apologize." The licking stopped as she spoke.

"No, there is." His voice sounded slurred and very distant to him. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I don't want you to hate me."

"I hardly hate you, Declan."

His brain was still stilted, as if he'd gotten knocked hard in the head. "I love you," he murmured into the ground, opening his eyes to bleary half-slits. Everything was blurry to his eyes. "I love you so much."

There was a soft, gentle purr and Declan knew right then that something was very, very wrong. When did Twist ever purr? He opened his eyes, equally horrified and humiliated to see that it wasn't Twist, but Dahlia licking his fur.

"As flattering as that is, I can't help but think it's the bump to the head talking," she teased gently. "Good afternoon, Declan."

He shot to his paws as if the ground had been struck by lightning. Immediately, he listed to the side, slamming into the wall. Reaching out with a paw to steady himself, he sank his claws into the cardboard, forcing his eyes into focus. Dahlia swam in and out of his vision as she stepped closer, her delicate scent wafting up into his nostrils.

"You should really lie down, Declan," she said.

Declan turned his face resolutely from her, taking in deep, half-wild breaths. The sight of her, so very wrong in this environment, made his pelt crawl with nervousness. "You're in my den," he said, making every word clear.

"Yes?"

"You're in my den," he said again. "Mine and Twist's den." The horror was seeping through his veins like poison.

"Yes?" she said again, the word drawn-out and slow. "I couldn't just leave you laying there like that."

"Like what?" Now he whipped to her. She was standing in the middle of the den, head to the side, looking utterly out of place here. She didn't belong here. No, not at all. She should go. Immediately. Before Twist came back and saw her here and thought…things. Declan's pelt flushed with the very thought of it. "What did I do? Where was I? Did I say anything?"

Dahlia blinked, looking a little surprised. "You…don't remember?"

Declan shook his head once, quickly, as if clearing his ears of water. "I must have…sleepwalked. I do that sometimes," he went on causally, off-hand, praying with every fiber of his being that nothing had happened. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

Dahlia said, "Huh, that's weird. Well, I found you just on the side of Lucky's den. I guess you must have walked up there and fell down. You hit your head on a rock when you fell." She laughed a little. "You're lucky that I found you before anyone else did. You were quite chatty."

"What did I say?" Fear gripped Declan's heart, making his vision clearer as adrenaline pumped through his veins. "Anything?"

Then Dahlia looked very coy. "My name," she said softly.

Declan felt his heart stop. "That's impossible."

"Why's that?"

"I don't dream about you."

She looked a little hurt at that. "Why not?" she asked a little huffily. "Aren't I your friend?"

"Well, yes," he said quickly, apologetically now. "But I don't dream of any cat. No one but Twist."

"Twist," Dahlia said, lightly scoffing. "She's been moping around all day. Did you two have a falling out?"

Turning his head aside, Declan muttered, "Yeah, something like that. I was actually looking for her. Do you know where she is?"

"Probably in the healing den with that weird ginger she-cat," she said. "Flint says she needs company. I went to sit with her once but she didn't talk to me." She wrinkled her nose. "I guess she didn't like me."

"You should talk more gently to her. Sometimes, you're too straightforward."

"Am I?" Dahlia looked appalled. "I don't mean to be! I'm well-intentioned, really!"

Declan walked by her. Now that he knew where Twist was, he had to go and beg for her forgiveness. Whatever pain and guilt he'd felt about not telling her everything was nothing compared to this absence. "Go back to your own den, okay, Dahlia?"

"I'll just go with you," she said petulantly.

"I have to talk to Twist alone," he said gently. "It's important."

"Oh, I won't be a bother. Promise!" Her tail curled. "After all, I'm the one who rescued you from that head wound, remember?"

"Oh." At the mentioned of it, the pain pulsed in his head. He scrunched his eyes shut, willing it away, but it only redoubled its hold on him. Sighing, he pushed his way out of the den and followed the path down to the healing den.

Flint was on his way out as Declan went by, followed closely by Amber. "Hey," he greeted, suddenly cheerful. "How are you doing today, Declan? It's a nice day today, huh? Very warmish. Warmish, that's a word right? Warmer than usual anyway. I'm getting tired of all this cold. It's very…cold, isn't it?" Then he jumped as if someone had called him even though no one spoke a word. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I have to go now. Amber and I are going to go hunt for herbs! See you later!" He disappeared along the path with a wave of his tail.

Declan stared at him, utterly confused. Then he shook his head and eased down into the den.

It was cool and dark here, not very homey-feeling. Declan wished it was brighter down here. It would certainly feel less gloomy that way.

When they reached Audrey's den, Declan turned to Dahlia. "Just wait here."

Dahlia looked insulted. "I wanted to see Audrey, too."

"You just called her weird, though."

"I was just joking. I'm coming, too."

Declan felt a pang of weariness. "Come on, Dahlia, I have to talk to Twist in private. Can't this wait awhile?"

"No, I was the one who told you. I should go, too."

"Declan? Is that you?" Audrey's voice was very dry and weak.

Declan turned to Dahlia. "Just…stay here. Okay? It's important."

Dahlia turned her head sharply to the side with a huff.

Declan said, "Thank you," and ducked inside the den.

Audrey's belly looked huge in the half-light. She rolled her head back to look at him, her expression turning a little more cheerful; it made her face look rounded when she was happy. "You came to visit me?"

"Of course." But Declan's eyes drifted past Audrey to where Twist lay against the back wall. Her paws were tucked up under her chest and her head was to the side, her face tipped down just enough that Declan couldn't see her eyes. The white, lightning-like marks on her face looked almost gray in the smudgy light. She didn't look up at him as he lay down across from her.

Audrey drew herself up onto her front paws, shifting to the side. "You look well," she said.

"So do you. You've gained some more weight?"

"Now, Declan," she huffed teasingly. "You should never mention a she-cat's weight. Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

Declan laughed softly. "I think weight is the least of your problems these days. When are you due?"

"Not soon enough." She flopped into a sitting position. "These kits are killing me. I never thought it would be this hard. It's amazing any cat gets born at all." But her eyes softened then. "Flint says I should have about three. Three little Audreys running around. Think about that."

"I'd rather not," Declan laughed. "That's more Audreys that the world needs."

She laughed along with him but Twist remained silent. Audrey seemed to have noticed this because she suddenly got to her paws, standing sturdily even as Declan tried to help her. "I'm going to get a drink of water," she announced loudly. "No need for anyone to follow me. I can walk by myself. So you two just sit here, okay? I might be awhile." She waddled out, her tail waving, leaving Declan and Twist in stiff silence.

Declan watched Twist, waiting for her to look up, but she never did. "I'm sorry," he said.

She said nothing but her ears twitched to show she'd heard.

"I don't want you to be mad at me. I hate it."

"I'm not mad," she said.

"You sure seem mad."

She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing like the sun. "I'm not," she growled. "I'm frustrated with you."

"Why?" he asked, his throat dry. "I didn't mean to upset you. Honest. I didn't mean to make you angry at me. That's the last thing that I'd ever want."

"I don't understand you," she said.

"But you do," he said. "Better than anyone ever has. You're the only one I trust with my entire self, Twist."

"I wish I could believe that," she said softly.

"You should!" And now he stood and approached her, but when he got close she flinched away. Pretending that that didn't hurt, he said, "You can trust me, Twist. I'd never betray you. I'd die first. I would never do anything to hurt you. Not ever." Liar, his mind whispered. This fire burns to hurt everybody.

For some reason, that struck Declan for a moment before he pushed it away.

Twist stared at her paws for a moment longer before her face whipped up and her yellow eyes glared into his. "If that's the case, then why did you vote to let the Claws stay?" she spat. "You should hate them! I hate them! I hate them more than I hate anybody and I didn't want them near me! Or you, for that matter. Not after what they did to you! You should want to rip their throats out but you don't and I don't understand why."

Declan was stunned. Standing there, very softly, he said, "Because I'm trying very hard not to hate anyone."

Twist's eyes didn't waver. "Why?"

"Why?" he echoed. "Because I don't want…revenge. Once revenge sinks its claws into you, it never lets go. I didn't want that for me and I didn't want it for you."

"I want it," Twist growled. "Revenge. I've always wanted it. No cat hurts me and gets away with it. Nobody but—" She cut off then, and finally a burst of emotion flared across her face—a confused sort of guilt.

"Nobody but me," Declan filled in for her, now a little bit roughly. Not towards her, but towards himself. He hated himself for this. "Twist, I swear to the stars or anything else that you want me to that I will never hurt you. You're—"

"Don't!" She closed her eyes, shutting him out. "Don't say anything else. You say all those sweet words but you never show me any proof of them! How am I supposed to know I can trust you if you won't prove it? How do I know you really love me? You could just be lying to me—it could be a trick."

Declan felt like he'd just been struck. "I would never lie to you!" he said, more snappishly than he'd meant.

"I didn't mean that," she said quickly, breathlessly. "I meant, you might think you love me but you don't. It's…it's hard to explain. I've been going over and over it in my head. You might only think you love me."

"Don't be ridiculous!" And now he was panicking. Did she really think that? "Of course I love you! I tell you that I do all the time! I've never meant anything more than when I tell you I love you!"

"Then why," she asked, and now she opened her eyes to fix them on Declan, "do you look at Dahlia the way you do? Do you feel something for her?"

Declan was dumbstruck. He just stared at her, losing himself in the deepness of her yellow eyes. She stared right into his eyes, that hot, burning gaze scorching up into his like fire. It made him shiver. It felt like he was losing grip on something very precious.

Breathing quickly and shallowly, his throat feeling dry as sand, Declan said very quietly, "I…I don't know."

Twist's entire face crumpled then, and her breath caught. Her eyes fixed, wide and unwavering, on his face. "You don't know?" she whispered.

Declan opened his mouth to say more but nothing would come out. What did he feel for Dahlia? He thought she was beautiful but…did he have feelings for her? Could that even be possible? Since Dahlia had been in the Warren, Declan had spent time with her, showing her around and teaching her how to hunt, but had that turned into something more? Had he come to like her in a way that wasn't friendship? Now that he thought about it, he'd spent more time with her than any other cat, even Lucky.

Twist's mouth was trembling. Then it stopped. She drew herself up and Declan could almost imagine the ice spreading across her, hiding herself from him. "Well," she said, and now her voice was very deceptively even. "That about wraps this conversation up."

"Twist, don't—"

"It's fine, Declan," she said briskly, standing quickly. "I just wanted to know. Thank you for being so honest with me."

"Twist, I—"

"I just thought you should know I'll be sleeping here with Audrey. She needs some time readjusting to Slider life. And then when her kits come, she'll need someone to watch over them. I've always liked kits. Hers will be especially cute, I think."

Declan stood in front of her, making her jolt out of her monologue. Lowering his head to meet her eyes, the ones now hidden behind a cloud of protection thicker than stone, he said weakly, "Don't do this. I…I don't have any feelings for Dahlia. It's just… Oh, Twist, I'm so confused." The dreams, the emotions, the hurt, and above all, his head, were aching in him, shaking him to pieces. He just wanted to bury his muzzle in Twist's fur and let her scent carry away all his worries but he couldn't. Not when she had such distance in her eyes.

"I know," she said quietly. "And you can have all the time you need to figure it out. Take your time, really. No rush."

She brushed past him but he stepped back to stop her again. She turned to face him, shaky anger coming across her face, and he said, before she could make him stop, "I can't love anyone besides you, Twist. I told you before and I meant it: I belong to you. Whether you want me or not is up to you. But I can't be with any other she-cat. Not Dahlia. Not anyone. They're not you. You're the only one I've ever loved."

Twist watched him levelly. "Thank you," she said, then she turned around and left.

Declan watched her go, the pain in his chest intensifying until it felt like his heart was cloaked in thorns. He gasped with the agony of it.

There were pawsteps at the mouth of the den and Declan looked up hopefully, wishing with everything he had for Twist, but it wasn't her. It was Dahlia.

"Declan," she said, her voice full of wild panic. "Audrey's kitting."

Um. Something should go here, because I deleted the other good stuff. So...

Pretzels + Nutella = Delicious.

: D

R&R~

Shadow