Chapter Eight

As the sun started to set on the day of Longwhisker's death, the clan sat vigil for her. In the morning, the elders began to drag her body away to bury her. Thunderstar did not say a word and shoved himself to his feet. He slipped into his den and collapsed on his bed of moss, curling up as tightly as he could.

As he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by a misty forest. It would have been dark and foreboding, but soft sunlight fell on his pelt and made the dew in the grass shimmer. It appeared that stars covered every leaf and petal. He looked around in wonder; he knew these hunting grounds: StarClan. Cautiously, he ventured along the vaguely familiar path. He had taken it twice before, when he had lost his lives. This couldn't be the same reason for it, though. What could have killed him? he shrugged it off and was just thankful that Cliffstar wasn't mauling him in this dream.

As he tread along, he caught glimpses of fur in the undergrowth. A gray flank here, a white tail there. Their ethereal scents confused him as to which cats these were, or if he knew them at all, so for the time, he kept on and didn't bother to pursue any of them.

The tom pushed through a patch of sparkling bracken to come to a deep pool. It was small, less than a fox-length around. He didn't dawdle on the water for long. A pawful of cats sat around the pool, talking together. Every time he saw them, he was baffled. Their pelts were on fire, beaming with starlight. Their eyes, although still that of a cat's, were veiled with frost, which made their irises shimmered as they stared around. The smooth pelts, scarred as they were, gave off a clean shine that no living cat could manage.

Forgetting his awe, he recognized his mother. Next to her was Cliffstar, of course, and on his other side, Sweetflower's mate, Iceclaw. He saw a familiar silver and black pelt, and for a second he was extremely hopeful. They were dashed immediately as he took in the broad, scarred shoulders of Mistyfeather. Beside him, his mate, Fuzzyleap, whispered in his ear. He assumed these were the only recently passed cats in StarClan, and he wondered if the cats who had recently left his clan had died and not joined their warrior ancestors. He shook the thought away as he approached his kin. The star-touched warriors dipped their heads respectfully to the current leader.

"Do you know… why you are here?" his father got to his paws, skipping any formal greetings. His fiery amber eyes met his son's and he hardly stopped himself from flinching. He shook his head, nervous. "You… Mmmmmm - you were killed by grief! Grief!" he repeated himself, as if he didn't believe his own words.

"I don't understand." Thunderstar replied, feeling his mouth become dry. His mind whirled with questions and he shuttered. How weak was he to be killed by something as stupid as feelings? He wanted to deny it, say it wasn't true, but he didn't believe those words himself.

"Cliffstar," Gorseflower pleaded, "it's not that simple. You're making him feel worse.." the steaming tom glanced at her and sighed, grinding his teeth.

"Whatever. Come this way, Thunderclaw - star." he corrected lazily, obviously not intent on calling him the right name. Thunderstar stepped around the pool, ignoring his father's crucial glare. He felt awkward staring around, but it was better than burning alive from such a terrible glowering. "Follow me."

Just as his son reached him, he stood and turned sharply. Thunderstar had no choice but to follow, and stepped quietly behind him. They took a winding trail that sloped downwards towards a small hollow. Thunderstar pressed the pace as he caught sight of a sleek silver and black form. This time, he was sure of who it was. Cliffstar stayed stubbornly the same speed, and his son passed him up impatiently. He tore down the path and slid to a halt, the cat's back turned to him.

The cat turned around, her soft purr reverberating throughout the space. Thunderstar remembered the last time he had seen her, so stiff and posed in the center of the camp. She had been so skinny, her fur so dull. Now her beauty was undeniable. She looked as young as when they had spent their days together, carefree, hunting and fighting side by side as warriors of ValleyClan.

"Longwhisker!" he purred madly as he pressed his muzzle against her's. She ran her nose against his jaw and rested her head on his shoulder. He did the same, and refused to move for as long as he could. He wanted to stay just like this. Forever.

He opened his mouth to speak when she moved away from him. His heart broke in a few more places as he realized he would never do this in the waking world, again. As he looked back at her, she moved her forepaws to reveal a tiny, furry bundle, a copy of herself. Thunderstar's heart skipped a beat.

"No.. Freezekit-"

"Don't worry so." his mate purred. "This is not the same kit, love. Don't you remember Silverkit? Ravinefall's sister. It's been so long since we've seen her..." the little thing bounced towards him, her tail high. She sat before him and stared up at him. She was so tiny, she must not have aged since the day she was kitted.

"Father!" she squeaked. He remembered a long time ago, when his first litter was born. Two tiny forms had rested at Longwhisker's side. One had squirmed like a fish, kneading her belly for milk, while the other barely breathed. It hadn't been much of a surprise when the next morning, the kit had stopped even that. He had seen her one other time, when he had received his nine lives. She had given him a life for certainty. He hoped he would use it well.

"I'd never forget my first kit." he purred, licking her between the ears. "You look just like your mother."

"We needed to see you for a reason, Thunderstar." Longwhisker said quietly, dismissing the light-hearted chatter. He looked up into her clear, pretty yellow eyes. He dipped his head, prompting her to go on. She stood and sat beside him, pressing herself against him. Although he felt her pelt against his, something was different. Now, they were cats of two different worlds. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the she-cat become increasingly transparent and he sighed. His time here, he knew, was almost passed.

"We are always here, looking down on you. We are with you, no matter how long ago we lived. Learn to live in the present, Thunderstar. You cannot return to the past for a reason."

Thunderstar woke up breathing hard. He stared in the darkness, his brain swirling around in his head. Outside, the sun was going down. He had spent all day asleep. He sat up slowly and looked around his gloomy den. He took in his surroundings and managed to get his barrings. After a minute, when his head stopped spinning, he stood and slipped from his den.

Aspenstripe and Dalefeather were just returning from camp. The elderly she-cat had a pair of mice dangling from her jaws. Dalefeather carried nothing. It must have been a good day for the pair, to feel up to acting like warriors, again. Even if Dalefeather's back prevented him from making a catch, there was no cat who could stop him from trying. Something about it made the leader's heart feel warm; like the shards that were left of his heart were slowly pulling back together.

Gullypaw and her brother scuffled in front of the apprentices' den. Just inside the den, swathed in shadows, Duskpaw looked on without expression. Thunderstar was strangely relieved she was in camp, having seen so little of her, recently. He reminded himself to try and talk with her tomorrow.

As he looked over to the nursery, he saw two red tails disappear into it. It must have been Redpaw and her sister. He wanted to go see his kits, assuming Brindleflame and the kits had returned to their proper den, but he wasn't quite ready to see his mate's pelt reflected on his daughter's tiny body, or the warm place that had felt so cold the day before.

Past the nursery, the warriors' den seemed very busy. Most of his cats lay out in front of their den, sharing tongues. He couldn't help but notice how small his fighting force seemed this way. He must try and attract more loners to join the clan. The way things were, it wouldn't be long before every cat in the clan was kin. He didn't need to explain to his cats why that would be a problem.

Thinking of loners, something he heard the day before sprung to his mind. Thunderstar had thought he had been ignoring everything said to him, but he clearly remembered Ravinefall telling him that Calla would stay in the medicine den until she left. He decided that he would take her on patrol the next day, and finally let her feel what it was like to be a clan cat. He drug his eyes away from the warriors' den and past the medicine den.

Just as he glanced over, the elders' den shook. Sweetflower pressed out of the den, her maw full of moss. Asterpaw stepped up just behind her. The leader was proud of his apprentice. He had been a lousy mentor, but still she was shaping up to be a good warrior. She and her sister were becoming favorites in the Clan. It must have been Flamepaw going into the nursery with Redpaw. He had just assumed it to be the sisters.

Something about how peaceful the clan was brought new hope to the grief-stricken tom. He thought of the prophecy and hoped it was misleading him. His father had told him about the first prophecy. No one remembered the words of it, now, but it had told the first leader, Valley, that rocks would crush his ambition, and a reckonable force would rise in its place. No one had known until it happened, but the rocks had been the ones now walling off the waterfall. It was said they fell when a great storm drove all the cats in the forest towards the most sheltered area: the Waterfall Cove. Valley's mate was just arriving at the water source when the great stones tumbled down on her. When the storm blew over, Valley had stopped being the arrogant young tom who had tried so hard to impress the pretty she-cat. He had become Valleystar, and his ancestors had made him wise. He spoke to the gathered cats, and convinced them to band together. Such a forbidding telling had shown to bring him fortune.

Thunderstar hoped this was the case for him. He put another thing on his list of to-do's for tomorrow: to tell the medicine cats of his visit to the Star Cave.

A yawn overtook him and he was surprised at how tired losing a life had made him, this time. He stalked across the clearing to the fresh-kill pile.

"Thunderstar!" Dalefeather's deep voice called in greeting. He looked over his shoulder, waving his tail in response. The dark ginger tabby stumbled over to him with his odd gate. "I'm glad you decided to see the sun today." he jibed harmlessly.

"Well, if I missed this sunset, what kind of cat would I be?" the leader replied. Clouds covered what parts of the sky they could see, the rest being blocked out by the forest itself.

"A foxheart if I ever saw one." the old tom twitched his whiskers. His mate stopped beside him, dropping the mice at her paws. "Steal one of Aspenstripe's mice, if you want. They're nice fat ones. For Leaf-fall, at least."

The patched tom dipped his head appreciatively and took one of the mice. The pair repeated the motion before stepping around the little fresh-kill pile and heading for the sunning stones. Thunderstar padded back to his den and flopped down in his nest. It was almost too dark to see, but the strong scent of the dead mouse made it easy to find and eat. When his belly was almost too full, he sprawled out and groomed himself half-heartedly. His eyelids grew heavy, and before he was done, he drifted off. He was glad to have no dreams at all, that night.