THE FADING FLAMES
. . . . . .
Things were moving too fast.
Every little picture in her mind flashed before her, as if trying to display every single event in her life to her in the short time that the darkness surrounded her. She could feel herself moving, yet her eyes didn't open. The voices she heard were clear, yet she could not respond to them.
Am I dead?
This wasn't a dream. Or at least… she didn't think it was. She could always tell when she was dreaming. Things felt light, in a way. Where she could change her mind and everything around her would change as well. This world didn't feel light.
It felt compressed. Squeezing the life out of her as if doing so would make her listen to its silent words. They were whispers in the dark, and she could feel the pull from both sides persuading her to return.
Return where…?
White hot pain shot through her body, and was suddenly very much aware that she wasn't alone in the strange dimension where she had been dropped. She desperately wanted to know where she was, who was speaking.
They were speaking. Calling to her.
"Hold her down!"
"What do you think I'm doing?!"
Who are you…?
The pressure on her legs was strong, but she fought against the force, writhing as if her muscles had taken on a life of their own. She twitched and clawed, swiping for something that wasn't there. And from her view, there was nothing there.
"Dear EverClan… she can't see."
EverClan…?
Her amber eyes opened, but what greeted her wasn't what she was hoping to see. The glow that drew her eyes in grew dim as she finally focused her attention on what it was coming from.
It was the sunrise.
Bright and beautiful—it should have felt hot on her fur, but instead, she embraced it like a cool breeze. The shouts turned into whispers as her doubts melted away, and she herself closed her eyes once more.
"She stopped moving."
"Is she dead?"
"Hush, Venus!"
"She looks dead."
The wind melted away, replaced by a heat that slowly grew, smothering her until she had no choice but to twitch in discomfort, which brought about an inward chuckle as she heard a young kit squeak in surprise and fall backwards.
"She can hear us!" Another cat—who sounded quite similar to the last—spoke up, even going through with her urges and poking her on the nose. Disturbed, the she-cat drew a paw over it.
"Flame?"
The she-cat in question grunted in response, not even bothering to look at who was calling her.
"Come on sis. Just open your eyes already!"
Flame buried her nose in her nest, feeling the moss tickle her nose.
"Alright… you can let her in."
It was silent for a few moments, which Flame very quickly claimed as she tried to fall back asleep, but one voice broke her out of her fantasy.
"Stop with this nonsense, Flame. Get up!"
The harsh words were paired with a paw roughly shoving her in the side.
It was Sting. She knew the feeling of her mother better than anyone.
Slowly, her bright eyes opened, taking in the cats that surrounded her while mourning the loss of comfort that her dreams had brought her. She briefly glanced at Emerald and Cole, side by side watching her, before she turned her gaze away, raspy voice muttering words meant to be amusing, but only coming out with flat emotion.
"Hey guys."
. . . . . .