Willowpelt sat sorrowfully in the sandy hollow. This place was all too familiar.

This was the place where the newest warrior of RiverClan was created.

How could StarClan let all this happen to me? Have they abandoned me?

The bushes rustled behind her.

"Willowpelt?"

Whitestorm...

The white warrior padded to Willowpelt's side and gazed at her.

"Leave me alone," Willowpelt snapped.

Whitestorm sat down. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong."

What am I doing? Talking helps with things like this.

"Graystripe is gone," Willowpelt confessed.

"Gone?"

"To RiverClan...he took the kits to RiverClan and went with them. Oh, Whitestorm, what have I done to deserve this? Tell me, what have I done?"

Whitestorm shook his head. "You've done absolutely nothing wrong. You've just been...unlucky, that's all."

"I've lost everything..." Willowpelt whispered, "My parents, my sisters, and my brother are dead, and my oldest brother not even acknowledging me anymore. I was forced to mate with a crazy old badger-head whom I killed while blinded by rage, and the kit we created is so shady, I don't know if I can trust him anymore. My oldest brother ate too much catmint and mated with me, and the cat we created has gone to RiverClan with his kits that I swore to protect. Not only that, but the tom that I have always wanted as my mate doesn't even know how I feel about-" she broke off.

Mouse-brain! I've said too much.

Whitestorm apparently hadn't heard the last part. He wrapped his tail around Willowpelt and held her close to comfort her. Her fur tingled as it brushed his.

"I know exactly how you feel," Whitestorm murmured, "I was so heartbroken when Snowfur died. I was so young that day, I can barely remember her. All I have left of her now is Bluestar, but she seems so different now that Tigerclaw showed his true colors. I can't believe that he and I were such good friends in our nursery days. And I have a feeling that it was my father that made him change. I never thought I'd say this, but I regret being Thistleclaw's son with every last breath in my body."

Willowpelt gazed at her Clanmate. They were more alike than she thought.

We're both innocent grievers looking for a place in Clan to serve it in honor of our lost loved ones.

Willowpelt swallowed. She wanted to ask him something that made her worry about his reaction.

Maybe talking about her will make him feel better about her death. It helped me when Swiftbreeze died.

"Whitestorm?" she prompted, "I know that you might not remember her very well, and this may be hard for you to talk about, but I want to know. What was Snowfur like?"

Whitestorm's mother had died while Swiftbreeze was pregnant with Willowpelt and her littermates.

Whitestorm's eyes clouded. "Her fur was white, like mine, but longer. Her eyes were as blue as a clear sky, and she had distinctive gray ear-tips. Her voice was soft and warm like her thick fur. She was usually calm and kindhearted with a sense of humor, but whenever she was agitated she would let it be known. At least, that's all I know, anyway."

She seems so nice. I wish I could've met her.

"But, you know what, Willowpelt?" Whitestom continued, "Whenever I'm around you, discussing the usual Clan news, patrolling together, even just sharing the warriors' den, it makes me feel better to live with having a mother who died when I was a very young kit. It's great knowing that no matter what happened to me in my past, I still have a friend."

A friend...you're more than a friend to me, Whitestorm. You always have been.

"Thank you, Whitestorm," Willowpelt murmured, "That...means a lot to me."

"I want to know something, as well," the pale-furred tom meowed, "That last thing you said, about the tom that you have always wanted as your mate? I know it's probably none of my business, but I want to know. Who is he?"

Willowpelt stiffened. Would this be the moment of truth?

"Because the she-cat who I've always wanted to be my mate, doesn't know how I feel about her, either."

"Who...who is she?"

Whitestorm's sun-baked sand-colored gaze burned into Willowpelt's eyes. "I'm looking at her."

Willowpelt gazed at Whitestorm. She felt as if her heart was going into explode into a radiant, golden light of love and passion.

"Do really mean that?" she murmured.

"Of course," Whitestorm replied, "I don't when I started liking you, Willowpelt, but I think it was sometime during kithood."

Willowpelt had never felt this happy in a long time. Ever the Tawnyspots incident, her life had been shadowed by dark, traumatic memories. Now with Whitestorm loving her, and her loving him back, maybe now she could put the past behind her for good?

She pushed her head under his chin and nuzzled his broad chest. "Oh, Whitestorm...you know the cat that I've always wanted as a mate is you. It always has been."

"But what about when you had Graystripe?" Whitestorm asked doubtfully.

"I said before who his father is. It's...Patchpelt...but it's not like I wanted to mate with my brother. Why in StarClan's name would anyone want to, I don't know. I'll explain about what happened later, okay?"

Whitestorm said nothing, but then shot his gaze up to the night sky. "Willowpelt, look!"

Willowpelt looked up and gazed, wide-eyed at the stars.

They're falling!

"Can you believe it?" Whitestorm, who was usually calm and dignified, squeaked like a kit, "I've seen stars fall before, but not this many all at once. Do you think it's a sign from StarClan?"

"Possibly."

"I wonder what they're telling us."

Willowpelt suddenly felt a surge of mischief. She nudged Whitestorm's shoulder and darted away from him, calling out for him to catch her.

Whitestorm's whiskers twitched with amusement, and the older warrior chased his Clanmate around the hollow.

After what felt like moons of playfully running, Whitestorm barged Willowpelt in the side, and the two pale-furred ThunderClan cats rolled around in a play-fight.

Who'd of guess that we'd be play-fighting after being warriors for many moons?

Eventually Willowpelt flopped down, exhausted, into a clover patch. Whitestorm purred and flopped down beside her. The white warrior gazed lovingly at her, the moonlight catching his fur, making it glow in a white fire.

His muzzle brushed Willowpelt's cheek. "I love you, Willowpelt."

"I love you, too, Whitestorm," Willowpelt whispered.

Whitestorm blinked lovingly at her. "Do you want to be my mate?"

Willowpelt met his gaze, her heart flittering like a butterfly caught in a spider web. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you to ask me that. Of course I'll be your mate, you stupid furball."

Whitestorm purred with gratitude.

Willowpelt crawled closer to him, getting comfortable in the curve of his body. She placed a paw over his shoulder, and twined her tail with his.

Whitestorm placed a paw over her shoulder, as well, and rasped his tongue over her ears.

This is perfect. If this is a dream, StarClan, don't wake me.

As the two mates watched the stars dance in the sky until they returned to their usual stillness, Willowpelt couldn't help but fall asleep into the softness of Whitestorm's fur.

Willowpelt padded proudly out of the medicine cat's den, the sunlight catching on her fur, making it shimmer.

He'll be so pleased. We've been striving for this for days now.

She scanned the camp for her mate, until finally finding him by the fresh-kill pile with Fireheart and Sandstorm.

"Ahem, Whitestorm?" she called, "Can I talk to you?"

The white tom turned around. "Of course you can," he purred, padding to up to her, "What is it?"

Willowpelt took a deep breath, and gazed proudly at her mate, "There're going to be some new warriors in ThunderClan in a few moons, courtesy of you and me."

Whitestorm started to trembe. "You-You mean..."

"That's right, Whitestorm. I'm expecting kits."

Whitestorm pushed his nose into Willowpelt's shoulder. The force of it almost made her fall down. "Oh, this is great!" he yowled with glee, "I'm so glad! Just think of the kits we'll have!"

"Yes. Muscular, handsome white toms with amber eyes, like you."

"Nonsense. Sleek, beautiful very pale-gray she-cats with blue eyes seem much more likely."

"Well, we'll just have to see what StarClan's going to give us, won't we?" Willowpelt purred.

Whitestorm nodded in agreement.

Willowpelt gazed up at the sky, milky with the nearly-approaching dusk. Some of her warrior ancestors were flickering above, slowly growing brighter by the heartbeat.

Willowpelt knew that her life will finally go easy on her. For she knew that Whitestorm would always be by her side, walking beside her, even among the stars.

And not even StarClan themselves can change that.