"If I can feel all this

there must be something

good

in the universe..."

-Ezra Pound

CHAPTER 23-I'm Dying in the Memory

She's beautiful. That's what Snowstorm thought when he came down from the sky for the first time in a long, long while. There were scars all along her flank, a particular nasty one that contrasted sharply against her dark fur, and still she was beautiful. He wanted to gaze into her eyes but they were closed and sleeping.

He tipped his head to one side. Will she recognize me? The stick-thing (had its name been 'Capella'?) had once told him that what was lost was not always forgotten, but Snowstorm didn't know if he had been dead for so long that the stars had ground holes into his pelt, that the dust in the corners of the universe had dirtied his fur and his eyes were now nothing but asteroids. The thought of her seeing him and not knowing who he was made him feel like he was dying all over again.

Her scent was the same as always. A warm, languid smell that reminded him of the Bird of Paradise, and it brought back memories of a golden field, glittering frost and snow, and then rocks and distant mountains. His brother was sleeping next to her, and the way the two were curled up together made Snowstorm smile. Slowly, the tom leaned forward and hesitated. The moon was white. The night was dark.

Shadowstar will kill me, he thought, before touching his nose to Shadefrost's black fur.

The she-cat awoke with a startled gasp. Snowstorm stepped forward quickly, and if he still had a live heart, then it would be pounding. The touch of the dead could be chilling; it could freeze you to the bone. He hoped that he didn't surprise her too much.

She squinted at him, still dazed from the sleep, and he was satisfied to see that her eyes were still the same kind of warm brown that he had grown to love. With his nonexistent heart pounding away inside his chest, he watched as she stirred, groaned a little, and finally those brown eyes settled to peer into his.

There was a moment of silence. He heard her take in a sharp breath of air. Her voice trembled.

"Snowstorm?" She squinted at him.

Yes, he thought. Yes, yes, yes. It's me. He was afraid for a moment that he might break down and cry, or that his heart would pound right out of his chest, or he would simply vanish and disappear forever, but all of those thoughts left him when she hugged him close and he felt her fur brush his. The only thing he could think about was the warmth of her body against his cold one and the purring that rose from both of them.

He missed this so much. Sleeping inside the warriors den, hunting prey, going on patrols, being alive. Even though he was dead and his journey had ended, he still wanted to go to distant places and have more than what life had given him. But Shadefrost was here, and just for tonight he didn't want anything other than to breathe in her scent and twine his tail around hers and laugh just how they used to, a long time ago.

"Great StarClan!" Dewstep was awake now, staring at him with wide eyes. "Is it really you?"

Shadefrost cast a nervous glance around her sleeping denmates. "We have to find somewhere else to talk. They'll wake up any second now."

Snowstorm chuckled and said gently, "It's alright, Shadefrost. We're all in a dream. They can't see or hear you."

"Snowstorm," his brother said, and the sadness in the voice made Snowstorm double back and widen his eyes. They were sad because they hadn't seen each other in years and Snowstorm was dead and they could never go back to what they once were, before Fang and the Darklings and the obsidian, when everything had been so simple and all they wanted to do was to be the best warriors they could be.

While the three of them stood there in silence, unsure of what to say, Shadefrost gently placed her tail on the ghost's shoulder and smiled. She said, "Let me show you the meadow. Did you know that tulips grow there now?"

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It's funny, Snowstorm thought. I was the one who first showed her this place when we were apprentices. This time, she was doing the same to him.

The place hadn't changed much, but then there wasn't a lot to see because everything was covered in snow. A few tufts of brown grass were sticking up here and there, and the fireflies and crickets, of course, had gone. But Snowstorm knew this place since he was young, and he closed his eyes and could imagine what it would look like in the blooming of New-leaf: soft, lush fur-like grass that were tall enough to brush your shoulders, as golden as the sun. Fireflies flickering among them like stars that had lost their way. And everywhere was the scent of bittersweet blossoms, evident now even through the layers and layers of glittering, silent white snow.

He wondered if the dandelions were all asleep now, buried underneath the snow. The thought of the dandelions made him remember something, and the memory brought back a vision of him and the apprentice Ashley rolling around in the meadow, laughing in the night, blowing dandelions and wishing on shooting stars.

Before he knew what he was saying, he whipped his head around and asked, "Did your wish ever come true, Shadefrost?"

She looked up from sniffing at a clump of withered plants and only blinked at him curiously. "Hmm? What wish?"

She couldn't have remembered, Snowstorm realized sadly. It was too long ago.

Her eyes lit up against the darkness. "You always told me that the shooting stars were the ones with magic." The smile softened her eyes and made her look almost sad. "Of course. I almost forgot about that. What did you wish for when you were an apprentice?"

"Oh." He gazed upward at the night sky, at the moon and at the empty black space between the stars. "I was a mouse-brain back then."

Dewstep joked, "You still are."

"I...I made a wish on the stars. But it never came true." He was crying now, if a ghost could cry. But the tears were real.

"Snowstorm!"

"Oh, Snowstorm."

Dewstep and Shadefrost were on him in an instant. He felt like a kit now, sandwiched between the two cats. He forced himself to grin. "No, that was ages ago. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

"No," Dewstep replied. "I suppose it doesn't."

There was more silence. Snowstorm would have wanted the night to be infinite so that they wouldn't have to leave the meadow, so that they could stay here close together and feel their warmth and just be like this forever.

"Snowstorm," Shadefrost meowed. Her eyes hardened. "I...I spoke to Onestar a few days ago. My friend got beat up pretty bad by some of his warriors. They...they did it because they think that we're murderers. You see, a few WindClan warriors were found dead between our border. Among them was a queen and two apprentices." Her voice trembled. "And do you know what Onestar said when I confronted him?"

Her voice was strong now. He was surprised. When he looked at her, she was staring up at the moon. Dewstep was standing rigidly behind him, focused on making little marks in the snow with his claws.

"Onestar told me that it was our fault in the first place for starting all this, and to keep our paws away from his Clanmates if we don't want anything bad to happen. He said it with such ferocity, Snowstorm. I was startled."

Snowstorm was surprised too. He muttered under his breath, "Moleclaw, Sedgewhisker, Hootpaw, Oatpaw, and Weaselfur. Who's going to be next?"

Dewstep murmured, "So far, only ThunderClan and WindClan cats have been slain. It's as if the killer's doing this on purpose. As if he knows that it'll spark tension between the two Clans."

The dark grey tom turned to Shadefrost. "So what are you going to do?"

Her brown eyes narrowed and turned almost black in the shadows. "Sam almost died out there. If I don't do something, more cats will be hurt."

And there will be a war. The words weren't spoken, but it hung heavily over them like a thundercloud.

Snowstorm laughed and drew Shadefrost in closer. He said, "You're the Guardian of the Lake, Shadefrost. You've already saved the Clans once. You can do it again."

She gazed at him, and seemed to think a bit before answering, "Except that my prophecy is over. It's Sam's duty now."

Snowstorm's eyes widened. "You...you already know about her prophecy?"

"Are you talking about Stormpaw?" Dewstep sputtered in disbelief.

Snowstorm heaved a tired breath, and he wondered just how much information he could afford to tell them. Shadowstar's going to shred my ears when I go back...

"Yes. StarClan chose her. I wasn't a part of it because only the most important souls got to make the decisions, but they told me that they saw something inside her that separated her from everyone else."

Dewstep raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't seen it myself. But they say that they sense some force in her that's struggling to get out. They say it might be big enough to affect the entire universe."

His brother scoffed. "Just to make sure, you're still talking about Stormpaw right?"

Shadefrost pressed, "Don't you think that StarClan is making a bigger fuss over WindClan than they should? You don't need a big power like that just to stop a war..."

"Except that the trouble's not just with WindClan. There's something else coming. Something dark. I wanted to warn you sooner, but..."

Dewstep's eyes narrowed. Instantly, he was alert and ready for battle. "What kind of trouble?"

"No one can say yet, not even StarClan. But they can sense it. It's making all the stars tremble."

"Snowstorm." Her voice was gentle now. She drew a tongue over his ear and touched her nose against his shoulder. His body, which had been tense before, suddenly relaxed.

"I know you're trying not to make me worry," she mewed. It was enough to make him trust her. "But I need to know. I have to protect my Clan."

Snowstorm looked at how the moon glazed her pelt so that it looked like she was glowing silver. He had forgotten just how much he had missed her. He sighed wearily.

"The world's going to end soon." Even the taste of the words were out of place, absurd, stupid and ridiculous. The end of the world meant the end of the meadow and the stars and the Clan and the Lake, and anything and everything that he had ever known and it just seemed so bizarre, a lie, a bad dream that went away when the sun came out.

Dewstep lashed his tail. "What do you mean by that? The world's just going to literally end? Cease to exist? You know how dumb that sounds."

Snowstorm ruffled his white fur and replied, "I know, but that's what everyone's been telling me. Just..." He drew his eyes over the two cats worriedly. "Be safe."

When the she-cat suddenly gave a small gasp and Dewstep's hackles began to rise, Snowstorm glanced down at himself in surprise to see that he was fading.

He grinned reassuringly. "Don't worry. This just means that I have to go back to StarClan's territory soon." He didn't tell them that if he stayed here longer, he would vanish. The earth was meant for the living and the afterlife was meant for the dead. He couldn't survive out of StarClan's realm for longer than a number of hours.

He felt torn when Shadefrost gazed at him with sorrowful eyes, and even without words he knew what she wanted. "So soon?" she asked him.

"Yes," he meowed, and they pressed their heads against each other's one last time in farewell. He didn't want to forget the scent of her fur or the feel of it against his own. Great StarClan, he had missed this. It had been years since they had last seen each other.

Dewstep broke in eagerly. "But you'll still be watching over us, right? Isn't that what ancestors do?"

The white tom quickly nodded in reply, hoping that he could mask his worry behind another gentle grin as he touched noses with his brother. He didn't tell him that after this night, Shadowstar might banish him to the far-out reaches of StarClan.

His white fur turned silver. Pulsing orbs swirled around his paws as the warriors stared at him in awe. He was glowing, and then as he began to fade and the earth grew dim, he suddenly remembered something that he needed to tell her.

"Don't worry about Stormpaw," he said. "She'll be fine. Her wounds will heal, but she will be faced with a path that you can't control. But don't worry."

Shadefrost blinked. "What do you mean? What path?"

With the last of his body that was ebbing away and swirling into the night air, he padded forward and rested his head against her shoulder. "You know her as well as I do," he purred. "You can't tell me that she won't get herself in some trouble again."

"Tr-trouble? What's she going to do?"

"I keep telling you, she'll be just fine. I see that she has a talent of making other cats worry." He cast his fading amber gaze over to her, then to his brother. He wanted to remember the looks in their eyes and the scent of the meadow wafting to join their own. "Goodbye," he breathed, and he vanished into the stars.

He felt cold air whoosh past him, and before he knew it, he was standing among trees swathed with stars against a lit sky where comets soared and constellations glittered endlessly. He breathed in the crisp scent of stardust and closed his eyes, hoping that he could stand here among the trees by himself until dawn came.

"You visited her," an iron voice said behind him.

"Yes. I guess I just couldn't keep away."

"You just couldn't keep away," the iron voice repeated.

Snowstorm opened his eyes and hesitated. "...What are you going to do now?"

Shadowstar padded forward to stand beside him, and together, they observed the habits of the universe and the lazily turning planets that could never keep still. "I am going to do nothing," she said at last. "Because there is nothing more we can do except to wait."

"Are you afraid, Shadowstar?"

Defiance came into her piercing gaze and she curled her lip into a stubborn snarl. "Of course I am," she said, wincing as she said it. "Who wouldn't be? We've got so much to lose."

The black cat jumped a little in surprise when she felt a tail pressed against her flank. Snowstorm was smiling at her gently, and as she stared back into his amber gaze, she felt herself relaxing. How could he be so calm at a time like this? she wondered.

He meowed, "When Ashley first came to me, I had my doubts as well. Even now, she is a poor hunter. But look at her, Shadowstar. She's changed. She's happier now. And imagine. If the Guardian is able to accomplish this much, then how much farther will Stormpaw go?"

Shadowstar stared back, as still as stone. Finally, she rasped, "You want me to trust in Stormpaw."

"Of course. What else can we do?"

Suddenly, a kind of anger overtook her and she shook herself free from the tom's grasp. Whipping away, she stalked over to the deepest part of the forest and growled softly, "It's much too late to save this broken world."

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It's always that same dream. Whenever I wake up, I squint and shrug and wonder, Why in the world did I even dream that? but more often than not I want to understand it.

I was standing in front of a cliff with the harsh sun shining on my face so hard that I could barely squint my eyes open. The canyon was a scar on the dry ground, as deep as the ocean and longer than long. It looked like a giant had leaned down with one claw to draw a line over the earth, and no matter how hard I peered in I couldn't see what lay at the bottom.

I must have been in a desert, because nothing grew around me except for sparse tumbleweeds and the broken, skeletal shapes of things that could have been dead trees. The sun seemed to be everywhere; it was roasting me alive. For some reason, there was a pain in my chest as if someone had reached in and left an empty space just between my lungs. I was sad enough to start crying, except I could sense someone standing right next to me and I couldn't cry in front of him.

"Do you ever wonder," he said, "what everything would be like if none of this had happened?" I listened to the pain in his words, and although he was standing at such an angle to my right that I couldn't see him, I could imagine what he would look like: brown, tangled hair trailing over eyes covered in shadow. And yet, he wasn't exactly human. And still, the stinging in my chest and in the corner of my eyes wouldn't leave, and I could imagine myself just falling into the canyon, the blackness opening up to swallow me down.

"We should have never done this," he said, "But no matter what happens, we have to keep moving."

I awoke sharply when I felt someone walk into the den. Against my half-open eyelids, I could see the blackened silhouette of someone padding in through the moonlit opening, but her familiar scent made me calm down. Geez, I was as jumpy as a cricket ever since that fight with the WindClan cats. Forcing my heart to stop beating so fast, I curled up again against the moss.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Shadefrost asked as she stretched, then settled down beside me. I grinned. "Of course I'm fine. Did you miss me so much that you had to come visit in the middle of the night?"

She was worried. She never said what she was feeling, but I could see it, plain as day. I snuggled up closer next to her and felt her warmth. "Scared of the dark?" I joked. "Don't worry, even Bloody Mary wouldn't come this far to follow you." My eyes were closed, but I could sense her quiet laughter in the rising and falling of her ribs. Bloody Mary, along with the Boogeyman and ghosts had long since left us behind in our childhood. Ashley had always freaked out about shadows; she was scared of the dark and wouldn't walk down a hallway alone.

But that was a long time ago when we were both still young. Eventually, I was falling asleep again to the rhythm of our soft breathing.

She didn't leave. My heart fluttered. What will I do when she decided to stay with me until morning? My plan would be ruined! I never expected for this to happen.

"Sam," she whispered. "You know that WindClan wouldn't dare set a claw on you again. I made sure of that."

"Of course, mouse-brain," I replied. I knew she could hear the affection in my words. "I don't need you to protect me, you know. I bet you I'm strong enough to pound a badger into the dust."

She chuckled. "Maybe if you were still a human, you could."

This was reminding me of the old days. We were huddled up together against the couch wrapped in a mountain of blankets, the T.V. blaring out nonsense but we weren't listening to it, we were instead exchanging jokes and stories and just watching the shadows dancing on the ceiling, the chirping of the crickets and our breaths moving in unison.

In my mind, I saw Ashley with a drink in her hand, leaning backward against the railing of the patio with the ice cubes clinking in the glass, throwing her head up to laugh at what I had just said, the laughter the only thing I could hear in the twilight sky. I saw Ashley tackling me with one of the hugs that I had loathed so much, I saw Ashley with an ice cream in hand, the one I had just bought her, holding up a peace sign in front of the camera, and I saw her and me together on the beach that one summer ago, a clump of tossed kelp in my hair and a seagull feather in hers.

"I care about you a lot," I whispered into her flank, imagining that the pelt brushing against my face was hair instead of fur.

"I know."

It was almost enough to make me forget about the plan and Len and the mountains and everything I had whispered into the ears of Wolfsong and Silverpaw and Featherpaw, but the memory of Len's story hardened and lingered.

I'm sorry, Ashley. But I have to do this.