ARRIVING back at the festival grounds, Sedgestrike was breathless. The honey that pooled on her tongue was so sweet that it began to sting, eating at the bristles on her palette and reducing them to a supple mesh. She could feel the sticky rivulets trickle down her chin and neck, collecting in golden dewdrops on her ivy wreath. Sedgestrike wasted no time in dropping the honeycomb on its designated pile, which looked like a mountain of glistening gold in the center of the festival grounds.

Sedgestrike took a step back to revere the collection of golden goodness, realizing her paws squished against a cushiony blanket of leaves. Her eyes widened when she bent down to inhale the strange plant; being so overwhelmed by the saccharine scent of honey, she did not even notice the rich aroma of catmint until it was too late. Her senses were swallowed by a warm haze, dulling them. Her burgeoning muscles were reduced to string, and her sharp eyes melted into pools. Sedgestrike felt all her thoughts and worries go numb. In delight, she circled the mountain of gold, wondering—faintly—when clouds descended beneath her paws. She curled her toes, relishing the fluffy texture. Is this how birds feel when they soared through the sky? Sedgestrike couldn't resist collapsing onto the clouds catmint, purring loudly with joy.

"Oi! Sedgestrike!" The bellowing voice that beckoned her felt far, far away.

"Sedgestrike!"

Suddenly, she was yanked from the cloud she was floating on. Crashing back to earth, her spiraling vision circled into clarity, and she was staring up at a protruding jaw that showcased a row of yellowed snaggleteeth.

"Grayjaw?" she mewed in confusion. Her voice sounded distant still, airy, like she was speaking from her head instead of her throat.

The warrior guffawed into her face. His wheezing laugh was coupled with a hearty pat on the back from his big paw. "You should save some catmint for the rest of us," Grayjaw joked. "Especially if you can't handle it too good."

"The… catmint?" Sedgestrike glanced behind her, seeing a ring of rich green surrounding the pile of honeycomb. Her face burned hot. "Shit. I bet I looked like a fool."

"It's okay. We're grateful for the laugh." Grayjaw rose his chin towards the crowd of MarshClan cats snickering at her like a flock of twittering birds. "Maybe take a break for a bit? It won't be long before the proposals begin."

Sedgestrike nodded, her senses slowly coming back to her. Her mouth felt like she swallowed sand. "I need a drink…" she muttered absently, much to Grayjaw's amusement. The proposals. Her heart fluttered wildly. It wouldn't be long before she would ask Blueflower to be her mate.

"There's some wet moss yonder that will get you right," Grayjaw pointed out, struggling to sustain another chuckle.

Sedgestrike glanced around, finding the soaked moss stash nestled in the shade of an orange tree. "Thanks…" She noticed the wreath snug around his thick neck and quirked a brow. The craftsmanship was questionable. Grayjaw's wreath was sewn together by tangles rather than actual weaves and tiny burrs collected within the chord.

"You like?" Grayjaw purred, catching her staring. "I thought the burrs would be a good symbol for my strength."

Sedgestrike smiled weakly, nodding. "Yeah, sure, looks, uh, very creative." It was hard to imagine Grayjaw proposing to anyone. The image of his chin covered in Vinestripe's blood flickered in her head. She pushed the thought away before her fear began to seep through her fur. "I'll see you around."

Stiffly, she walked away from Grayjaw to sit in the cool shade with a sigh. The fresh moss smelled earthy, a comforting contrast to the overpowering perfume of catmint and honey. She lapped at the droplets of water that shivered at the shaggy, green surface of the moss, listening to the laughter and chatter surrounding her.

She turned to see Palemist monopolizing the conversation while Yewbranch and Gingerstep rested idly, smiling and nodding while lapping at their clusters of honeycomb in turn. Longscar was helping himself to a collection of mice, gorging himself viciously, nearly swallowing fresh-kill whole like a python. Fogspots and Dewpelt were sharing tongues beneath another orange tree, their bodies pressed close. Sedgestrike guessed they came to the festival to renew their vows. She remembered Fernstream telling her as a kit that mated pairs would often attend the festival to relive their proposal and reinvigorate their bond; it was not a necessary ritual, but one that some indulged in nonetheless. As long as she had been alive, she never saw her parents partake in the vow renewals.

A gaggle of warriors were loudly swapping stories, Grayjaw had joined them, and his laugh was loudest among the rest. Spiderfang was animatedly telling a story to them that caused Sandthroat to nearly double over in laughter, leaning into a disgruntled Blackhawk. Even Zinniablossom was laughing, though whatever Spiderfang was saying was shocking enough to make her eyes bulge beforehand. The only one that appeared unamused was Mothfur; he looked like he swallowed bile.

Nearby, Littlebrook, Blueflower, and Whitestar were taking a nap. The closeness of her leader to Blueflower made Sedgestrike feel uneasy; after all, she knew what Whitestar was capable of. However, Sedgestrike was surprised by the look of Whitestar's sleeping face; she looked peaceful and much younger without her usual glare withering her expression. She wondered what kind of cat her leader was before to aligned with the Place of Eternal Night. Was she the kind of cat that had that serene face all the time? Sedgestrike remembered Whitestar's sister, Jasminefur, remarking how much she had changed. For a heartbeat, Sedgestrike almost mourned for the she-cat that was lost. Then she remembered the atrocities committed under Whitestar's command and thought better of it. Glaring at her leader from afar, she almost forgot to fix her expression when Whitestar's eyes opened. Her leader rose, staring across the clearing, directly at Sedgestrike before moving to groom her tousled white fur. Sedgestrike stiffened. Did her leader sense her stare?

Shuffling her paws nervously, she decided not to stare at Whitestar anymore, even when her leader moved to the center of the clearing to make an announcement. "Sunset has arrived!" Whitestar's voice rose above the clamor of festivities, which promptly ground to a halt. "As this hallowed day ends, together we will take comfort beneath the stars. Our ancestors will soon be an audience to the proposals you have prepared for. I pray StarClan and your loved ones accept your desires tonight."

Anticipation welled in Sedgestrike's belly. This was it. As the clearing darkened into a deep scarlet, she knew the time for proposing had come. On the cusp of sunset, it was to be done, so that StarClan could witness the marriage of Their earthly subjects and endow Their blessing. Supposedly, if StarClan did not favor the coupling, They would intervene. Sedgestrike never heard of that happening for real, but it did not stop her from worrying about an intervention. Everything had to be perfect. Then, with fright, she wondered if the Place of Eternal Night would come between her and Blueflower. Sedgestrike's heart took off from her chest, fleeing out of sight as her fears grew. Get it together, she told herself. Everything will be fine.

Around her, cats were breaking off from their friend groups, some more hesitantly than others. She could see, with amusement, that both Sandthroat and Grayjaw-wearing equally shabby wreaths-were making their way towards Palemist, much to the she-cat's dismay.

It was Blackhawk that caught her eye next; his thick black mane enshrouding a bright green wreath made of something other than ivy; it was eye-catching to say the least. It did not surprise Sedgestrike in the slightest when the warrior approached her sister. Her heart swelled with emotion when she saw the polite shock in Yewbranch's bright green eyes followed soon by a flush of adoration and glee. Blackhawk was an annoying apprentice, but Sedgestrike knew he always treated her sister well. There was a flicker of guilt in her when she noticed a small but deep scar gnarled against his jaw. Sedgestrike was the one that gave the scar to him during their final test, and she never realized it stuck to his mug until now.

Looking away before guilt ate at her anymore, she noticed Longscar making his way across the clearing and her blood was set to boil. For once, he was not glaring in her direction, instead, his dark gray face was twisted with a mix of conflicting emotions. His amber eyes were fixed on Zinniablossom, who looked just as surprised as Sedgestrike felt.

As more and more cats broke away to their desired mates. Sedgestrike knew she couldn't prolong the inevitable any longer. Breathing in deeply, she stood and walked gingerly towards Blueflower, who was talking quietly to Littlebrook. Keeping her chin high and chest raised, Sedgestrike hesitated behind Blueflower before clearing her throat.

"Blueflower," Sedgestrike greeted politely.

When the warrior turned at the sound of her name, Sedgestrike was enthralled by her beauty immediately. Her bright blue eyes and thick blue-gray fur made a striking parallel that would make even the most vibrant dayflower envious. Her scent, a faint but flattering sweetness, quickly engulfed Sedgestrike, making her forget her own name.

"Sedgestrike," Blueflower greeted her with a small smile. Her expression was unreadable.

"May I speak to you for a moment?" Sedgestrike asked, ducking her head to Littlebrook apologetically. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

"It's okay!" Littlebrook chirped, her freckled face beaming. "I was just above to take a dive in the catmint anyways." Her blue eyes sparkled with her usual giddiness and the small, dappled she-cat quickly hopped away, leaving Blueflower and Sedgestrike alone.

Blueflower's eyes darted to Sedgestrike wreath for a heartbeat before her eyes met Sedgestrike's again. "You may."

Why is her expression so hard to read? Sedgestrike wondered. It was almost like she was guarding something behind her face. Nervous as ever, Sedgestrike led Blueflower into the orange groves, as many of the other cats did, knowing she would soon make her proposal. The sound of cicadas was teeming through the orange trees, humming into Sedgestrike's head. The path between the orange trees seemed to narrow the further they walked, but Sedgestrike wanted to get as far as possible from the clearing, not wanting anyone to overhear the proposal that was meant for Blueflower.

When she turned, she was again struck by Blueflower's beauty. She forgot how words worked, and the two she-cats ended up staring at one another in silence before Sedgestrike remembered how to speak again. "Blueflower, I am in love with you." As the words escaped her, Sedgestrike could hardly believe she spoke them; the deep longing that hung on each syllable was undeniable. "I made this." She dipped her head, allowing the ivy wreath to slide off to the ground between them. "I made this in hopes of you accepting my love for you."

The silence that followed was immense, and Sedgestrike thought she would suffocate beneath it. Her longing soon morphed into pleading then into desperation, which grew like an ugly mass in her heart.

Blueflower sat down and shook her head, a deep sadness suddenly appearing on her face. "Sedgestrike, I came here today because I wanted to give you a proper refusal."

"A… what?" Sedgestrike felt like the ground fell from beneath her paws. Her insides spilled from a hole in her chest. "Refusal?" She was surprised by how small her voice sounded.

Blueflower's eyes were downcast. Her expression was still guarded, but she could not hide the guilt-or was it pain?-in her words. "We can't be together, Sedgestrike. I can't be yours."

"But… you have my heart," Sedgestrike pointed out, the shock in her voice was rivalled by desperation. She began to talk faster, fearing that if she didn't speak soon enough, Blueflower would disappear. "Whether you want it or not, it's yours. It's been yours since I heard you whisper, "this is wrong," at Vinestripe's trial—you of all the cats had the courage to speak what I felt. You put words to thoughts I didn't know I had… you made me think things, feel things, that made me feel fuller." Her confession lingered in the air like static after a lightning strike, sending painful sparks between them.

Blueflower bowed her head even deeper, refusing to meet Sedgestrike's pleading gaze. "I'm not good for you, Sedgestrike." The coldness in her voice stung Sedgestrike. Her heart felt frostbitten. "What you want, it's not good. It can't happen."

"You speak in a way that makes my heart sing and brings peace to my mind. Everything just… makes sense when you're with me. I feel safe." Sedgestrike was ready to grovel at Blueflower's paws. The one cat that made her feel sane, that vanquished the demons in her head, was building a wall that she had not a prayer of penetrating. It was constructed of stone and sealed with mud, it was vast and cold between them, but Sedgestrike was prepared to gouge at it until her claws were nothing but bloodied nubs if it meant she had a chance of breaking through. "I haven't been a warrior for long, I know, but I'll make you proud to call me yours… if you'd let me be there. Let me be the one you call yours… please."

"Are you even listening?" Blueflower's voice rose, but broke before reaching the next octave. "I'm not good for you! We can't be together." Finally, she met Sedgestrike's stare, and her eyes were pools of regret. "I shouldn't have let you get close to me. I knew this would happen…"

Sedgestrike would have preferred Blueflower just striking her. The pain her words caused was more unbearable than any physical pain she had felt before. "Can I ask why?" she mewed, feeling her heart break.

"Why what?"

"Why can't we be together?"

Blueflower grew quiet. Sedgestrike gazed at her, searching, praying to find any indication that this was all a bad joke or a dream. But the pain was too real. It was all too real.

"We just can't," Blueflower muttered coldly.

"Is it because we're both she-cats?"

"No, Sedgestrike… It's just…" Blueflower frowned and shook her head, her expression becoming unreadable again.

"What are you hiding from me?" Sedgestrike demanded, frustration giving an edge to her voice. "Is it because I'm too young? Too reckless? Too stupid? Too ugly?"

"Just stop, Sedgestrike!" Blueflower snapped, eyes brimming with pain. "It's not you. I'm the one that's not good."

"What do you even mean? What makes you not good? You're smart, and kind, and you take care of others." Sedgestrike lowered her chin, her voice becoming even softer. "You're wonderful."

"No, I'm not any of those things." Blueflower dipped her head again, the sadness was raw in her voice.

"Yes, you are," Sedgestrike assured her softly. She took a ginger step closer to Blueflower. The wreath remained between them, acting more as a barrier than a bond. "You are all of those things and so much more, Blueflower."

"No, no, no." Blueflower was shaking her head, eyes squeezed shut.

"Yes," Sedgestrike mewed, coming closer still. She wanted nothing more than to embrace Blueflower. She wanted it so much that it hurt. "You are good for me. You are the only one for me."

"I can't be," she insisted, voice just above a whisper.

"Why?" Sedgestrike asked. "Please, just tell me why, and I promise-I promise I'll never come near you again, if that's what you want. I'll do whatever you want, just tell me why." The sound of her begging was so pathetic that it made every last inch of pride in her writhe and wither like a worm beneath the scorching sun.

"I could never want those things-I could never not want you beside me."

Hope flickered like an ember in Sedgestrike's frozen heart. "Then what's holding you back?"

Blueflower rose her chin, staring deeply into Sedgestrike's golden eyes. She found torment and pain in those blue depths she never thought possible, and she was broken by a wave of surprise. How long had that pain been in Blueflower? How long had she endured it alone?

"I can't be with you, Sedgestrike… because I'm a traitor."