This chapter is quite long, so I'll be posting the final part in two days, rather than tomorrow. Enjoy!

Part X

Icepaw grunted when Lighttooth knocked into him. His claws tore across the ground, throwing dust into the air as he forced himself to remain upright following the blow. It required that he turn his back to the other tom, but he quickly darted out of range of a subsequent strike and framed Lighttooth in the center of his vision, breathing heavily.

Today was his final assessment. Again.

Icepaw hadn't known it was coming. Thistlepelt had rattled him awake before dawn and ordered him out to the forest, where they would find Ravenfur ready for them in the clearing. Seeing the deputy of the Clan, Icepaw recognized that over a moon and a half following his first miserable attempt at earning warrior status, he was finally getting a second chance. He was so bewildered by the surprise; Thistlepelt had awoken him from an encounter with the Spirit, who was far more talkative than usual that night, questioning Icepaw about details of his kithood and his family. He was glad to talk about them with someone he knew wouldn't bother exaggerating sympathy, but it did confuse him that she was suddenly so interested in his life. They hadn't the chance to finish their conversation when Thistlepelt's grating voice interrupted them.

But he didn't waste a moment. Thistlepelt ordered him to hunt down three items of prey before the dawn broke, and the nearing new leaf season made Icepaw's luck a lot better than it was the first time. He managed the task in far less time than either his mentor or Ravenfur expected, and he was thrilled by that.

The second part of his assessment, which he had never reached the first attempt, was an evaluation of his skills in combat. Icepaw considered himself to be better at this than at hunting, but he was realizing now that he was probably being too generous in believing that. He was of an average size and frame, slight in comparison to both Thistlepelt and Ravenfur, who both had broad shoulders and long legs, and ever since his final assessment, he had spent much less time training, and much more with Dawnheart, either collecting herbs with her or exploring the territory aimlessly in conversation.

Even so, Icepaw was enraged with his task. His battle partner was Lighttooth, who was known among many of the warriors to be the best combatant in the Clan, next to Ravenfur. The black and white tom was just smaller than the deputy, but he was muscular and agile, a powerful, fluid fighter.

Thistlepelt had invited him out to both Icepaw's and Ravenfur's dismay. ThunderClan's deputy had questioned Thistlepelt if Lightooth was the best fit for Icepaw, to which Thistlepelt replied, "Don't you worry, he'll go easy. Even if he doesn't, you never know the kind of cats you'll be facing in real battle. Icepaw will be grateful for this experience. If he passes."

If he passes. Icepaw had spat at hearing that. He'd never understand why Thistlepelt seemed to spite him so much, but he felt that there was irrefutable truth to the fact that his mentor didn't want him to become a warrior. He was convinced at this point. He didn't know if Thistlepelt was looking for an excuse to not retire, or if he was just too proud to let him go. He'd always boasted about having apprentices, and maybe he felt his self-satisfaction meant more if the apprenticeship was current. Icepaw didn't know, but he also didn't care. He was sick of Thistlepelt, and he wished more than anything in that moment to be finished with him.

If Lighttooth was going easy, however, then Icepaw didn't want to see what the brawl would look like if he fought at full force. Icepaw hadn't managed to land a single blow since they started. He'd been pinned at least four or five times, and only ever escaped because Lightooth let him. Now they stood apart from each other, Icepaw heaving with both effort and vexation, while Lightooth's tail lashed as he thought about how he could once again get the better of the younger tom.

Just give me a moment, he thought. Please just wait.

He flexed his claws on the grass and composed himself. Icepaw felt the Spirit within him, her soul filling out the length of his body. She made him feel heavier, but not so much that it seemed to be what was inhibiting him. She was only noticeable if he stood still, focused on his exhaustion.

I don't know what to do, he said, partly to her. There was no response, but he didn't need one. He just needed to win, or at the very least, prove that he deserved to be a warrior. The way things were going now, he was certain that he was only making a fool of himself. Thistlepelt and Ravenfur observed them from the edge of the clearing, and they hadn't yet interjected. Icepaw felt that the moment they did, it would be over for him.

Lighttooth was poised in waiting, clearly giving Icepaw the chance to make the next move, but they were at such a distance now that Icepaw didn't know what he could do that Lighttooth wouldn't expect. Any move Icepaw made, his opponent would have ample time to consider a defense.

Just do something. Just get closer. Icepaw crouched and stalked forward as though he were hunting. He felt that being low would make it easier for him to slip away if Lighttooth tried to land an attack. He made a slight curve around the black and white tom, whose yellow eyes followed him through narrowed slits. When they were about four tail-lengths apart, Lighttooth bolted at him. Icepaw raised his paw to block a strike and lunged, snapping his teeth, trying desperately to get a grasp of his scruff. Lighttooth was stronger though, and with a single push, he sent Icepaw reeling backwards. Not wanting to waste any time, Icepaw lunged again, aiming lower for the shoulder. He had barely grazed Lighttooth's fur before he was knocked flat onto his side. As he scrambled to get to his paws, Lighttooth loomed above him, and he looked at Icepaw with pity.

Standing again, Icepaw dove to the side, figuring that he might be able to better attack him from a more challenging angle, but Lighttooth was quick and he met Icepaw there. The two crashed together and the larger tom immediately took advantage of his own power and held Icepaw to the ground with ease. Below him, the pale gray apprentice simmered with rage.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ravenfur shift. The deputy of the Clan was probably level-headed enough to know that this fight was going absolutely nowhere in favor of Icepaw, but the notion of failing for a second time seemed so real to him as he glared with wrath into Lighttooth's pitying face.

How could this be? he thought indignantly, What did I do to deserve this?

He struggled with immense effort, but Lighttooth was not letting him up this time. He was probably just as ready for this to be over as Icepaw was.

I just want to be a warrior!

Suddenly, his fury seemed to snap and flood through the length of his body. All of his senses dulled; the tom above him went out of focus, his white and black fur blending into the murky browns and greens of the forest around him, while the sounds of returning birds and cool morning wind went muffled in his ears. Even the weight of Lighttooth's paws lifted, though the tom himself didn't move at all. Icepaw gasped as the anger within him felt to warm his very blood. The idle presence in his body fed into that heat and suddenly reached from the depths of his soul to activate in his body. Icepaw's thoughts quieted. He was only left with feeling.

"I will be."

He twisted with force, and Lighttooth's grasp failed. Icepaw would have merely slipped from under the larger tom, but with his back now facing upward, he snapped his hind legs straight and knocked Lighttooth right in the chest, thrusting his opponent up and back. He vaguely heard a gasp, but it sounded far off. Icepaw could barely make out what was in front of him, but it was as though he didn't need to see. His body knew. He whipped around and burst forward. Instead of taking Lighttooth head on, he dipped low and then rushed up, raking his sheathed paw up the front of his neck and bashing Lighttooth's jaw with the top of his head. The larger tom fell back, unbalanced, and Icepaw forced him to the ground slowly by striking him in several places one at a time, moving faster than he knew he had a capability to. Lighttooth tried to recover by lashing out at Icepaw's face, but he blocked the strike with one of his forepaws and used the other to cuff him between the eyes. The black and white tom recoiled in shock.

Icepaw anger hadn't subsided, but it felt foreign to him. It was insatiable, as though no amount of fighting would satisfy it. Not even his body felt tired. His emotions fueled him, and cured him of the exhaustion that had only begun to hold him back further. Now he stood above his opponent. The blood roaring in his ears drowned out the frustrated growls of Lighttooth on the ground. The warrior had never fought a cat faster than him, and now, out of the blue, Icepaw was that cat. Surely, he, and the two watching, must be wondering how.

This wasn't finished yet. Icepaw dodged another useless blow from the older tom and faked left. Lighttooth had braced for him there, but when Icepaw jerked back to his initial position, he had left the back of his neck vulnerable. Like a snake, Icepaw lunged and closed his teeth around Lighttooth's scruff.

"Enough," hissed the black and white tom, his voice muffled. "I'm done with this. This has gone on too long."

Icepaw dropped him. The rage in his body ebbed away quickly. His vision sharpened and his hearing returned to normal, allowing him to listen once again to the chirping of birds awakened by the light of the sun now risen above the horizon. Lighttooth was getting to his paws, avoiding Icepaw's refocusing stare. Icepaw himself felt his breathing slow down as his emotional high faded away, leaving him feeling confused and lost.

What just happened?

Thistlepelt and Ravenfur came forward from the edge of the clearing and stared at Icepaw for several moments in surprise, and then, looking at Lighttooth, Ravenfur said, "I've never seen someone turn a fight around so quickly."

"Neither have I," Lighttooth muttered.

"Icepaw, you've been an apprentice for a long time. I was concerned that even holding back as much as he was, Lightooth was still able to get the better of you that consistently, but still don't think I could be cruel enough to force you to continue your training regardless," explained Ravenfur. Thistlepelt was silent beside him, still in a state of disbelief. "But then you did that. I've never seen such acutely performed moves before. I don't know where you've learned to do that, as agility and precision like that is something I'd expect out of a WindClan cat, but," his eyes lit up and he smiled, "I'm very impressed. Maybe the assessment environment messes with your head, but I trust that you have latent skill that will emerge when it needs to."

Thistlepelt walked towards his apprentice, who was still a little too disoriented to have fully comprehended what the deputy had just said to him. "You passed your hunting test decidedly. I had my reservations about your fighting, but I think you have proven yourself in the last couple minutes there."

Ravenfur nodded. "We won't make you wait any longer. Your warrior ceremony will take place at sunhigh."

His words knocked the air out of Icepaw's lungs. He shook his head in incredulity, and stammered, "Wh-what?"

"Congratulations, Icepaw, you've finally done it."

"I'm going to be a warrior."

"Yes you are," said Ravenfur, whiskers twitching. "Now let's get back to camp in case you want to eat something beforehand."

Icepaw nodded vigorously and burst to the front of the group as they walked back. He couldn't believe it.

He still felt warm too, as though the Spirit's happiness for him was pressing through.

"Will all cats old enough to catch their own prey join me under the Highledge for a Clan meeting?"

Icepaw already stood at Ashstar's side. The speckled silver tabby's startling voice quickly drew the attention of the Clan, and after very little time, there was a considerable crowd gathered below the Highledge, looking up at the ThunderClan leader and the apprentice that stood beside him. Scanning the congregation, Icepaw saw his three older siblings sitting together in the middle of the pool. Brightfang had been trying to meet his gaze and gave him a friendly smile when he saw her, but the other two seemed only about as interested as the rest of the Clan. Icepaw sighed and kept looking around. Thistlepelt, Lighttooth, and Ravenfur were all positioned towards the front, and Icepaw couldn't help but smile bitterly at his long-time mentor.

Thank StarClan that I'll be rid of you.

At the back of the crowd, Adderstripe and Dawnheart lashed their tails excitedly. Of all the cats in the crowd, they were the only ones who seemed genuinely thrilled for him. Everyone else, by the whispering that was occurring, seemed to only be relieved that after moons of painful stalling, ThunderClan's only apprentice was finally earning his warrior name.

At last, Icepaw thought in mocking, some news to give at the Gathering! The pathetic orphan is finally joining us in the warriors den!

He surprised himself at that. Shouldn't he be feeling happy?

Looking back to Adderstripe and Dawnheart, Icepaw dipped his head in their direction and received two gregarious nods back. Adderstripe had taken a seat, but Dawnheart remained eagerly standing with her weight on her dainty forepaws. Even from his height, Icepaw could see the radiance of her eyes. He could almost hear her asking, "Aren't you excited? You've wanted this for so long." in the same voice she gushed about the Moonpool with. His whiskers twitched with affection.

Ashstar began, and Icepaw turned to him with a stunned jolt. "I, Ashstar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon our warrior ancestors, to look down on this apprentice. He has trained exceptionally hard to learn the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn." The silver tom looked to Icepaw with his deep, dark blue eyes and continued, "Icepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and defend ThunderClan even at the cost of your life?"

After taking a deep breath, Icepaw answered, "I do."

Ashstar blinked slowly. "Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Icepaw, from this moment further, you shall be known as Icewhisker. StarClan honors you for your resilience and your intelligence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

The new warrior had to lower his head for the smaller tom to rest his muzzle between his ears. Respectfully, Icewhisker licked the shoulder of his leader before straightening himself again and looking out into the crowd. They chanted his new name loudly in support, again and again, and he listened to them intently.

Icewhisker, he thought, echoing their cheers in his head. Not bad, not wholly interesting, but it has a nice ring to it.

"Thistlepelt," said Ashstar after the crowd had quieted a bit, "I was told that it may be time for you to join the Elders' den after many seasons of excellent service to the Clan."

The dark gray tabby gave him a confounded expression before shouting back, "Well, who told you that, Ashstar? I've still got plenty warrior left in me! I'll let you know personally when I'm ready to retire."

The Clan all seemed to find this amusing, but Icewhisker could only grimace in annoyance. All I hope is that he doesn't get another apprentice.

Ashstar gave his personal congratulations to Icewhisker before dismissing the Clan from the meeting. Brightfang, Smokebreeze, and Mouseleap all came forward to offer their own felicitations for the achievement. Brightfang flicked him on the shoulder with her tail-tip while their brothers both gave him respectful nods.

"After your vigil tonight, you'll take your place in the warriors den," Mouseleap said. "I'm sure you're going to hate having to give up the apprentices den. You had it all to yourself for so long."

"Ah, well, it got a little lonely sometimes," admitted Icewhisker.

"We'll probably be seeing each other more often now," remarked Brightfang.

"Probably."

"I bet what you're most excited about is finally getting away from Thistlepelt, though," Smokebreeze meowed, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the senior warrior, who sat talking the ear off of Ravenfur and Lighttooth.

"Definitely."

"I remember being so ready to never have to listen to him again."

"We have that in common then."

"Are you okay, Icewhisker? You don't seem that happy," Brightfang said.

He folded back his ears defensively. "What? Of course I am. It's just a lot of process, that's all."

"We'll leave you to it, then," declared Mouseleap, before nodding once more and leading the other two warriors off to the fresh-kill pile, where much of the Clan was gathered now that the ceremony was over.

Icewhisker stood by himself for a few moments before he felt a delicate tap on his shoulder. He spun around to find Dawnheart right behind him, her face bright and eyes dazzling. "Congratulations, Icewhisker! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks," he murmured sheepishly.

"So, is it like you said? Does it feel any different?"

"In a way." He felt himself truly smile for the first time since he got his name. "Well, it does now that you're here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just happy to see you," Icewhisker told her, and she looked down at her paws shyly. He cleared his throat and continued, "And I feel like my life is finally moving in some direction at least, even if it's not the direction I had hoped for."

She nodded gravely. "All I wish for is that you feel content with where you are. There are certain things we cannot control, so we have to make the best of what we have. You're a warrior of ThunderClan, Icewhisker! Despite the shortcomings, I really hope that you're proud of yourself. I think you'll make an excellent warrior. I really do."

We have to make the best of what we have. Those words rang in his head long after Dawnheart spoke them. She was right - when wasn't she? - but Icewhisker couldn't help but suddenly notice that regardless of his grueling anticipation for this day, having his warrior name didn't leave him with anything more than what he already had. His siblings seemed no more congenial than any other members of the Clan, and there still wasn't anybody else that Icewhisker would experience his early warrior days with. Everyone else was far more seasoned and knowledgeable than he was. There was no one for him to get lost with, no one to stand beside that night during vigil. In the eyes of the Clan, Icewhisker was still the most expendable warrior, at least until new warriors came along many seasons later.

Earning his name didn't bring anyone back. His mother was still dead, and his father still a cowardly traitor, off somewhere being rubbed between the ears by a mangy, bony Twoleg paw. Even when he had the chance, he never felt the reassurance of seeing Willowtail and Mothkit in StarClan, who he hoped would tell him that his resentments were unjustified and to just let them go. If he heard it from them, maybe it would mean something, but Mothkit was still only the stranger that ruined his life simply because hers never began. And Stoneclaw was still the murderous deputy of ShadowClan who could take the place of Maplestar and haunt Icewhisker forever.

He was still the foolish apprentice whose sprained paw prevented him from saving his mother's life. Being a warrior was never going to fix that.

But Dawnheart. She gazed at him with such sincere kindness and companionship with those warm amber eyes that never failed, for just a moment, to make all of that self-loathing and anger go away. The power that those eyes held was the only thing Icewhisker knew would never forsake him. And to think that she was living the exact life that he wished he could.

Except he didn't.

Not anymore.

Icewhisker felt the air leave his lungs in a single stunned exhalation. He didn't want to be a medicine cat. That wouldn't change anything between them. What he wanted was her.

He loved her.

A stream of grief rushed through his body at the realization. It was only to be expected that the one cat he felt any real love for was also the one cat that was impossible for him to have. Icewhisker's claws unsheathed involuntarily into the ground. He'd lost her too, without ever truly being given the chance to have her.

Those eyes. Those StarClan-forsaken eyes that told of every thought that bloomed in her mind, he read them in a whole new light now. She ran around fussing over Clanmates all day with her gaze betraying the compassion she had for them and the focus she put into her work, but with nobody else did those eyes search for that compassion to be returned. She had persisted for moons to try and make him see how deeply she cared, and when he finally realized it, she never stopped. And now, Dawnheart wouldn't break his own stare. It was as though she was watching the pieces fall into place for him, as simultaneously, they did for her.

Concern, sympathy, forgiveness, love. It was all there, escalating like a story playing out in her mind.

Icewhisker's pelt warmed in embarrassment, the muscles in his face stiff. Dawnheart took a step backwards, just seeming to notice how close she stood in front of him. Their muzzles had probably been no more than two or three mouse-lengths apart. The golden-brown she-cat angled back her ears and gave him a look that was almost apologetic.

"What...what were you saying?" he asked dumbly.

"I just wanted to invite you out on a walk," she bashfully replied, "But if you have warrior duties to attend to now, I totally understand."

"No, it's fine. My vigil doesn't begin until tonight."

"Maybe you want to mingle with the other warriors."

"I'll have plenty of time later. Let's go, Dawnheart. Please."

Icewhisker padded off, desperate to leave the camp where he felt that numerous warriors could have been watching them. Humiliation suddenly stirred in him when he realized that many of them could have already noticed how close he and Dawnheart were. Adderstripe surely had. The large tabby tom had returned to the medicine cat den after the ceremony, and Icewhisker was grateful in that moment that he had not witnessed the several minutes that had just passed awkwardly between them.

He took a deep breath once he was out in the territory. The morning had passed, and now, just after sunhigh, the sky was white with a thin sheet of clouds. The air was a little frigid, but not uncomfortably so, and the wind, while strong, was bearable. Dawnheart emerged from the camp beside him, and immediately started to try explaining herself. "Icewhisker, listen, I-"

"Let's not talk. I just want to think, if that's okay with you, and we can just walk next to each other."

"But, I feel like there are things that have to be said," she argued as he started leading her into the territory. "A lot of important things, about us."

"I don't," he snapped, clearly frustrated with her characteristic perseverance. "What is there to talk about? You and I both know everything we have to. There's nothing left to say, not if there's nothing left to change."

She opened her mouth to respond, but never did. Instead, she gave in and walked alongside him silently.

The Spirt's claws had been poised on the back of his head since the beginning of his warrior ceremony, but in all of Icewhisker's deep thought and realizations, he had become habituated to their touch. Now that he walked with Dawnheart, he felt a torrent of irritation at the Spirit's perpetual presence. All he wanted was to be completely alone with the golden-brown she-cat, and now he saw that he never really was.

I really wish you would go away, he snarled in his head, unsure if the Spirit could really hear him. I have so much to think through right now, and I can't focus if you're right there distracting me with your invisible claws.

Nothing let up. Icewhisker clenched his jaw in frustration and kept walking.

Every once in a while, he would feel Dawnheart's gaze on him, but he never looked back at her. He truthfully just wanted to sit somewhere and close his eyes, but he knew that if they stopped walking, Dawnheart would try to initiate a conversation that he simply didn't want to have. Icewhisker kept telling himself that discussing their feelings was unnecessary, and in a practical sense it was, but the silence that they walked in was just a little too miserable to let stand. Maybe it would just be best to let Dawnheart say what was on her mind, and if he preferred to keep quiet, it was trusted that she would understand. She always did, after all.

Icewhisker found himself walking uphill, in the direction of the abandoned Twoleg nest. If they were really going to talk, he hoped that an environment known for its immense supply of herbs would influence the two of them to think more rationally about their situation. Dawnheart perked up when she realized where they were going, and even seemed to become a lot more eager knowing that it was a place she was so familiar with, and a place to where their friendship could trace its roots. Maybe it gave her hope. Icewhisker couldn't imagine that such a loving cat would want to see their gregarious relationship wane simply because it was realized.

When the structure of the nest became visible through the trees, Dawnheart quickened her pace, and Icewhisker followed just behind her. Part of him felt bad for making her wait, especially since he didn't know if he planned on doing any more but listen to her words. He may neglect to give a proper response. As he watched her tail flutter back and forth, Icewhisker struggled to formulate any well-worded contribution to their inevitable exchange in his head. The only way he could imagine approaching this was bluntly, but the last thing he wished to do was hurt her feelings.

Dawnheart leaped through the square opening in the wall of the nest, and Icewhisker did the same after a reluctant breath of newleaf air. The pleasant seasons were about to be upon the Clans, and he had begun them by earning his warrior name, but while good changes were being brought in the wind, Icewhisker could only think about how the change of his name couldn't bring any good in his own life.

The scent of catmint was strong, stronger than it had been the last time he and Dawnheart had come here. The nest itself didn't look much different, but it was clear by the smell of things that a bountiful harvest of herbs would be coming soon. Dawnheart was sitting in the center of the open room, her eyes wide and anxious. Before Icewhisker even had the chance to settle, she had begun speaking.

"Icewhisker, listen. I know that this can't work out between us, okay? I understand it as much as I'm sure that you do, but I'm just terrified that being aware of our feelings now will only hurt our relationship, and that's the last thing I want." She spoke emphatically, her face moving with almost every word. "You're a warrior now, and I bet you're just so excited! You have the opportunity to make so many new friends, and it only makes sense that you and I will grow apart as you begin assimilating with them. I want you to be happy, but I don't want you to start avoiding me like you used to."

He scanned the tall, flat walls of the Twoleg nest as she pleaded to him, listening to her, and unsure of what to really say. As well as she knew him, it was evident that she wasn't yet aware of his cynicism. It was probably masked by the tension of their current situation. Saying nothing in reply seemed to encourage her to continue frantically talking, as she didn't want the silence to draw on.

"Because, you know, you had a certain opinion of me a couple moons ago, and you had felt that way longer than you had felt this way. You resented me for being the medicine cat apprentice instead of you, and I don't blame you for that." She paused so as to convince him that that sentiment was true. "So, I hope that new resentments don't form for the same reasons. I mean, different but similar reasons. It's still about me being a medicine cat, but now that you have a whole den full of warriors that you can befriend, I just don't want you to think that it's an easy out to just forget about our friendship in favor of letting them distract you." She laughed ironically, and Icewhisker flinched at how bitter she sounded. "You get distracted a lot after all."

He nodded in agreement to her final sentence, but once again did not even attempt to give her a verbal response. He supposed that her concerns went deeper than he had initially anticipated. Icewhisker remembered what she had said when she had first confronted him here: "I've lost loved ones too. You're not the only one who feels alone sometimes." He realized then that he didn't really know if Dawnheart had any family in the Clan. She was just less than two moons older than him, and so he had a lot of memories of her from their time in the nursery. Recovering them now, he recalled that she hadn't any littermates. As kits, they would play on occasion, but by the time that Icewhisker had grown to be her size, they weren't very interested in playing the typical games kits busied themselves with, such as pretending to be warriors; neither of them wished to be. She was usually chasing the heels of Adderstripe, while he remained in the nursery with Willowtail, still too young to explore the camp on his own.

Her mother, he remembered, was named Redwater, a pale ginger cat with amber eyes that Dawnheart inherited, but they were extremely different. Dawnheart's energy and hard-working nature didn't compare with his memories of Redwater, who was lethargic and melancholy. As far as Icewhisker knew, he never encountered Redwater since he had become an apprentice, and never wondered what happened to her. Perhaps she died, perhaps she never left the warriors den, he didn't know. And he certainly didn't know anything about Dawnheart's father. Icewhisker never met his own, and yet he was sure that he knew more about him than whoever Redwater's mate was. At least Icewhisker was told that his father's name was Cloudleap, that he was a pure white tom with green eyes, and that he had run away with a tabby kittypet she-cat before he'd even had the chance to know him.

Dawnheart bristled at Icewhisker's silence. "Are you going to say anything, or are you going to torture me? You need to communicate, Icewhisker. I can't stand to not know what you're thinking! Just please tell me you aren't going to shut me out! Say it and I'll be happy."

"Listen, Dawnheart. I'm not going to shut you out," he meowed softly. "I just realized a lot of things today, among my feelings about you. I have so much on my mind and I don't really know how to go about dealing with it all."

"If you would just be willing to share it all with me, I'd listen. You know I would," she murmured.

"I know. I guess all I really wanted to say is that I don't think anything is going to change at all," admitted Icewhisker.

"You don't?"

"No."

She flattened her fur. "Oh. Well then, is there no problem here?"

"There really shouldn't be. It's not like we can do anything to make things different," he replied wryly. "But I guess, ironically, that is a problem. I'm not like you, Dawnheart. I'm not happy with how things are."

She winced, "You're not?"

"No." He started walking the edge of the room, and she followed him with her eyes. "It's not anybody's fault either. That's just the way it is. I guess I could blame Stoneclaw for killing my mother, my siblings for not caring enough, Thistlepelt for being a horrible mentor, my father for abandoning us when we'd needed him most, Mothkit for dying and leaving me to grow up alone, or you for being a medicine cat." He frowned at her, but he didn't mean it spitefully, though she seemed to take it that way. "But what good would any of that do? It's not like feeling that way could change one thing. So I guess all there's left to do is accept life for all it's taken from us and stop thinking too hard about it. If we're miserable, then we're miserable."

Dawnheart shook her head and lifted a forepaw off the ground timidly. "No, Icewhisker. I don't want to be miserable. I've worked all my life to not be miserable, I've worked to help you not to be miserable. Is it not enough?"

"Well it's enough until it's not," he growled. "We were perfectly fine until we realized that we cared about each other a little too much for us to just be friends. Now, just like everything else in our lives, there suddenly isn't enough and there's nothing we can do to honorably fix it."

She gazed at him solemnly, and though it hurt him to see her like that, he was so full of contempt that he didn't try to find the words to reassure her. He just let her lovely amber eyes stare hopelessly into his, the feeling they so plainly expressed stirring emotions in his spirit that he didn't have the strength to suppress.

And so they spread.

Icewhisker stiffened. This feeling. It was so familiar, so recent. The malice he possessed for his situation fed into something else that was completely detached from him, and the more it grew, the more it became apparent that he had absolutely no control over how he was feeling. His pelt was on fire; he was radiating loathing, and before everything snapped, he knew exactly where it came from.

Spirit!

Everything fell away. Icewhisker gasped as his vision clouded. He felt as though he was experiencing everything from just outside his body, like he didn't have the proper vessel to function just right. He was overpowered within himself, fueled almost exclusively by a soul teeming with enmity. This is exactly what had happened that morning when he fought Lighttooth, but this time, there was no intention of sublimation for all his rancor; everything was directed with tenacity towards Dawnheart, who stood still unaware of what was happening.

The Spirit's force of will controlled everything now. Icewhisker could only guess what she planned to do with all of her animosity.

No. His thoughts were faint and simple. He didn't have the power to give them much vehemence. No. You...can't.

She was fast. She'd proven it that morning. Icewhisker's body was launched from where he had been standing at the edge of the room. Everything blurred right past him, as quickly as though he were falling through it all from above; all that remained clear was Dawnheart's delicate, trembling form. Icewhisker felt his claws being unsheathed as he ran. Horrible dread sat like a rock in the small area of his consciousness that he still had influence over. It wasn't enough to combat the Spirit's conviction.

To his relief, Dawnheart dove out of the way, but in her fear, lost her balance and fell into a patch of catmint. Icewhisker slid to a stop and snarled viciously in frustration. In terror, he heard himself growing, "You promised you'd give me a fight, Dawnheart." Everything once again sounded distant and stifled, but he recognized the raspiness of the Spirit's voice in his own. "Now's the perfect time, I would say."

"Icewhisker, what are you doing?" whispered the golden she-cat, horrified.

"Well you were right," she said in his growling voice, "Neither of us should have to be miserable, so I figure that I would remove the part of my life that makes me feel that way. You want what's best for us. Make this easy." Her words dripped with venom and Icewhisker felt himself growing only more desperate. He felt just out of reach of himself, but there had to be something he could do. If there wasn't, there would be no way he could forgive himself for feeling strongly enough that the Spirit could take hold of him like this.

Once again his body darted at Dawnheart, bared teeth snapping ferociously. Dawnheart shrieked and leaped to her paws, but she couldn't get away fast enough; Icewhisker slammed into her and sent them both sliding across the ground, congesting the air in the room with dust and dirt. Dawnheart struggled, but Icewhisker's big round paws held her down securely. Saliva dripped onto her muzzle, and she coughed and spit it back up at his face. The Spirit snarled and struck Dawnheart's face with his claws. The medicine cat yelped in agony.

Stop! he urged the Spirit, but his voice was not strong enough for her to listen. Stop...now...now... He reached out and tried to feel for his own mind. It was close, close enough for him to have his own thoughts at all, but if he wanted any control of himself again, he needed to get closer.

"You'll be happy to go to StarClan," she hissed at Dawnheart, "At least I'll be at peace with that."

"...Icewhisker..." she mewed helplessly.

Dawnheart! He forced his feelings of desperation and love outward, until it converged with her hatred.

The Spirit lunged.

No!

Icewhisker broke through the barriers of his own mind, his emotions flooding the banks of consciousness. Everything went cold as the frigid forces of his fear and despair overwhelmed the fires of her malice and tightened its hold of her spirit, locking her in place. Icewhisker had never felt so substantial with the weight of her presence - it was realer now than it has ever been. His jaw slackened, as did his whole body, which collapsed beside Dawnheart in a quivering mass of pale gray fur. He feared what he would see when he looked up from the ground.

Dawnheart was alive. He heard her clawing herself away from him, gasping dryly for air. She was whispering his name over and over again in disbelief. He had to say something to her. He had to explain everything.

"Dawnheart-"

"No!" she screamed, startling him up. She was bleeding from her cheek. Scarlet tracks traveled down the side of her face and clumped together at the top of her shoulder. Shallow teeth marks were visible on her throat, and Icewhisker felt sick knowing how close the Spirit had come to killing her. "Don't you speak! Don't speak to me ever again!"

"But I can explain!"

"I don't want it!" She was hysterical, shaking uncontrollably. "Get away from me, you sick fox-heart!"

"Dawnheart, I wasn't in control of myself! Something - someone came over me!"

She didn't even try to shut him down anymore. She was backing away in horror towards the opening in the wall.

"It was a spirit! Dawnheart, please!" Icewhisker begged her to stay, to let him tell her everything. He searched her eyes for any sense of compassion, any tiny glint of hope that she would forgive him for this like she had forgiven him for everything else. But he hadn't enough time to look. She had turned away and leaped out of the Twoleg nest, out of sight and out of range to hear him calling after her helplessly.

"Dawnheart!"

Icewhisker started to run after her, but his body came to an involuntary halt. The weight of the Spirit was slowly and painfully peeling away from him, right out of the back of his head where she always felt to be entering and exiting his body. But this was so much more than the usual slight pull of her quick removal. This time, she seemed to be pulling him with her. The corners of his vision darkened, blackness swallowing his view of everything. Horrible agony closed in, like the weight of boulders crushing him from all directions. He couldn't breathe, then he couldn't see, then he couldn't feel.

There was nothing.

Icewhisker snapped open his eyes to see her standing with her back arched and her pelt bristling in anger. Before he had the chance to say anything, she screeched, "You fool! I could have fixed everything for you if you were to only let me!"

"Spirit-"

"Now you've ruined any chance you had of being happy in your Clan. When that little imbecile returns to your camp, you can surely expect that no one is going to see your actions for the good they would have done for you."

Icewhisker couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was so overwhelmed with shock and rage that he trembled on his paws. "Are you serious?" he hissed. "Do you honestly believe that what you just tried to do would have helped me? You're insane!"

The Spirit sneered and slithered closer to him. Her movement seemed smoother and more vicious than ever. "Of course it would have! If you aren't happy, then there must be something we can fix!" Her white eyes flashed, as did her teeth. To his alarm, they were red with blood. The Spirit licked it off and asked, "Well, would you have rather I killed Thistlepelt? I could have, though I don't see how helpful that would have been since you will no longer have to deal with him."

"What's wrong with you?"

"That little medicine cat, though, she still has a place in your unfortunate life. You realized just today how much it's going to hurt to not have her, thanks to that senseless code of theirs." She spat at the mention, and continued, "Perhaps you enjoyed her friendship, but after today it would have only made you more miserable."

Icewhisker could hardly contain his fury. The Spirit's aura seemed brighter than usual, she stood taller, and her voice contained more energy and passion than he had heard it consistently hold. She looked more alive than ever, her eyes flickering with her words, and her muscles rippling underneath her ragged pelt. Icewhisker recalled the pain of being pulled here by force just moments before, his eyes welling up with anguished tears. He shouted, "Have you always been able to do this? Possess me like that? Is that why I have always felt you there?" He looked down at his forepaws, and winced when he saw a tuft of pale golden fur caught between his claws. "Were you just waiting for the opportunity to kill her?"

The Spirit stuck her face in his, forcing him back a few steps. "You were the one who said that we can help each other feel less alone. That was your idea!"

"Do you think murdering my best friend was going to help me feel less alone?" he snarled incredulously. "You're crazy! Crazy!"

His accusations enraged her, but the more they shouted, the more uncertain of herself she seemed to become. Icewhisker knew that her motives must have been rooted in jealousy more than anything; she had carried disdain for Dawnheart since he befriended her. He remembered what she had said to him the night following their first confrontation at the Twoleg nest, "She's a medicine cat. According to their ridiculous code, they can't form relationships. She's going to disappoint you..." Icewhisker didn't want her to feel satisfied with the notion that she was right. She wasn't, but now he just had to make her truly see that.

"Spirit," he growled after a tense silence, "I put my trust in you. I believed that there was a reason we were meeting, and if was only so you could ruin my life more than it already had been..." He didn't finish the sentence. He was too heartbroken.

She shook her head and sneered at him. "That was your discretion. I tried to convince you that your judgement was flawed, that persisting with me would only end up hurting you in the end." She took several steps back, eyes narrowing pointedly. "If you choose to feel that what I did was harmful, then you brought it on yourself. I warned you."

"No!" he snapped, stunning her. "That's not how this works! You're a lot more self-aware than you try to let me believe. You told me all of that when we first met. You hadn't forgotten your past, you remembered how you've impacted others before. You knew that you had the capability to do this, and that means that you had a choice." He paused, the words getting caught in his throat. She opened her mouth to speak but he snarled to keep her from saying anything. "You're hard to read sometimes, Spirit. You don't have eyes like Dawnheart, but when I see things in you, I see them clearly. You're tying to convince yourself that what you did was right as much as you're trying to convince me. Well, you can't, because you know it was wrong, you know you didn't have to do this."

"I warned you," she repeated, "I warned you."

"Then what was all this for?" demanded Icewhisker distraughtly. "We were supposed to help each other! I come from Clanlife. I don't believe in accidents, and I don't believe that we were destined to traverse across boundaries as inexplicable as these just to fail each other." Icewhisker gestured to the Nowhere around them, screaming out into the empty black void, "How is this possible? How is this real?"

"It's not..." the Spirit whispered weakly in reply.

"Yes it is," murmured Icewhisker. "It is. The damage you caused is real. You're real. All of this is real." He paused. "I'm real. And you tried to destroy what little I had left in the world."

The Spirit's eyes widened, and her face lit up in epiphany. Her aura flashed and throbbed momentarily, before dimming. Icewhisker felt a twinge of hope inside him, that maybe he had finally said something that had gotten through to her, past her walls.

And then she changed. The anger surged once again through her entire unsteady form, igniting the life and passion he had met when she pulled him here to begin with. He stepped back, afraid and disillusioned at last. Her voice resonated with emotion and power. "You were supposed to learn to take control," she said to him, "To make changes in your life that would help you, regardless of what anyone else expects. Do you know how torturous it was for me to listen to you go on and on about how troubled and dissatisfied you were with your life, and watch as the most you would do to try and rebel against it all was kill another Clan's rabbit?" She laughed. "And you let them punish you for that, having you wait just a little bit longer for the day that it all fell into place, that a change in rank would do shockingly nothing to bring back all the things you had already lost. If you had known that to begin with, I could have spared the energy it took to get you through your assessment."

Icewhisker shivered as she talked. She'd always been so broken and unmindful in the past, barely stringing together sensible thoughts, forgetting and remembering events of that same day, sharing inconsistent knowledge and ideas. She was so certain now, of everything that she said, and Icewhisker could sense the balance of concrete thoughts with earnest, intense emotion. He unsheathed his claws and cried, "And you were supposed to learn too, learn how to have a friend and be happy and care about cats other than yourself!" He ran forward. "I thought you were lonely, but you're just selfish!"

He lunged and crashed into her, his greater size providing the force necessary to knock her over. As she rolled onto her back, the muscles in her face slackened with shock and her bright white eyes glared up into his snarling visage. She was pinned beneath him and made no attempt to move under the claws that pierced her shoulders.

"You had a choice," he growled, his eyes burning with tears, "You had a choice to do what you did. You did it still, after telling me how much you needed me, after making me feel your pain. That was all just an illusion, wasn't it?" Icewhisker sank his claws deeper into her fur but she made no reaction, not even a slight grimace. The frustration he had for her apathy, even when physically challenged, was wild. Why couldn't he make her feel anything? "I trusted you, and you trusted me back," he cried, shaking her, "Look at what you've been able to do! You didn't have to be nothing, you got to be something, but you needed me for it!" He was so close to her face, so close that the light of her eyes nearly blinded him. "You're nothing without me! And you treat me this way? You try to ruin my life?"

Before he had even finished speaking, she was no longer under him. She had blinked completely out of view. Dazed, Icewhisker straightened and frantically swung his head around in search for her.

"Spirit?"

"Above you."

He looked up, and saw her there, floating right over his head. He dropped his jaw in surprise at the sight. Her aura had extended out to the sides, outlining a shape similar to the wings of an eagle. Even more unusual than that, however, were what had happened to her eyes. Trails of bright orange smoke poured from them, rising up into the darkness before evaporating into nothing. She was suspended there, frozen, her claws outstretched and stained with Dawnheart's blood.

Icewhisker breathed, "What..."

She fell.

With a screech, she landed on him, claws slicing through his fur and tearing through the flesh of his shoulders. She rolled with him in her grasp, before letting go and tossing him forward. Icewhisker yowled in pain and struggled to focus his dizzied head. Her aura exploded with color, darkening to a red mist, and her phantom wings flapped and expanded to their full length. Icewhisker was struck with a wind of energy and blown back several fox-lengths on his paws.

The Spirit roared, "You don't know anything about me! You don't know what I am!"

She shot forward like a blaze of fire, colliding with him with a loud and mighty torrent of heat. His bones rattled painfully and she threw him back once again. The red mist absorbed everything he saw in its crimson color, and as he gasped for the air she blew out of him, he could taste blood on his tongue and throat. He used everything in his power to try and get to his paws, but he found himself sailing on a heavy cascade of her energy, rising and falling like a mere blade of grass caught in the violent waves of a flooded river. He screamed his mother's name in his head, not having the strength to do it aloud.

Willowtail! Willowtail! StarClan, save me from this!

The Spirit flew into view and descended down upon him, stopping his movement and pinning him firmly on his aching spine. Everything in his sight jolted back and forth uncontrollably, and he prayed that it all would stop. The paws that held him down burned, as though her entire body were on fire. Icewhisker struggled to make out her eyes, shrouded in clouds of flame-colored smoke.

"I hate it!" she screamed and a chorus of many thousand unidentifiable voices joined hers in a powerful echo. "I hate being nothing! But I made that choice, because I thought it was best!" Her phantom wings stretched above their heads and quivered with energy before slamming down. In his peripheral vision, Icewhisker saw a towering ripple of red mist rise and fall away from them, initiated by the intense movement of her aura. "It was you, you who reminded me that I had the power to be something, that I didn't have to be a prisoner in the Unknown while time passed without my control. But don't you get cocky now, Icewhisker..." The smoke parted, and to his disbelief it revealed two ruthless, bright, burning amber eyes in the place of the white empty holes he had grown so familiar with. "...I have always been everything, and I don't need you to provide me any source of power."

To his great surprise, she lifted off of him. Icewhisker watched in stunned silence as she rose into the blackness and closed her flame-colored eyes. Her aura contracted, reigning in the blood-colored mist from all directions. The edge of its power passed over Icewhisker's unmoving body with a lash of heat and condenced along the outline of her body. Her phantom wings faded away, leaving behind small broken petals of light. The Spirit revealed her gaze for a final time, white once more, before flashing out of view and leaving him alone in her wake.

Icewhisker laid there. The Nowhere opened its gaping, desolate maw to him and was still. His thoughts were silent, as were his wounds, which had vanished along with her.

There was nothing.