Chapter 25

The end of very little.

A couple more days had passed, one or two maybe, and Loneheart couldn't figure out what to do with his time. He was just holding out for the gathering now.

Right now, he was sitting in the warrior's den, as the last cat, Briereyes, left her place there, leaving him all alone.

It was almost night now, so he was surprised that there weren't more cats in there with him.

He really didn't want to be alone right now, but he still refused to just get up and leave the den, try and find someone to talk to. And he hated himself for it.

He needed someone to talk to, he wanted someone to talk to. He needed someone to help him, he wanted someone to help him.

And yet he still stayed right where he was, maybe afraid of what they would say if he asked for help.

Maybe he thought they would throw him out or look down upon him for it. Maybe they would hurt him, maybe they would make fun of him.

Either way, he stayed in the den, and let these thoughts flood his head.

He lashed out, against his own will and accidentally hit his own leg.

It hurt but he didn't care about the pain right now.

He couldn't remember anything. The days blended together and reformed all the time, and time was unreliable.

Nothing made sense anymore, and he wondered if it had ever made sense, but he couldn't remember if it did or not.

His memories were scarce and scattered. He remembered so little, only vague traces of things that had happened.

Even just a few days back he could remember nothing, and it all felt like it had been years and years earlier.

Nothing fit together.

Events were out of order, phrases he had heard and said seemed to blend and find new homes in different memories.

He couldn't even remember his sister's face anymore.

It was all gone, and he wanted to die.

Peeking out the confines of the warrior's den, he watched across the camp as Berryflight left the Medicine Cat Den and headed for the camp entrance.

Loneheart still didn't want to leave his place, even if it felt like a prison, but the pain was too intense now, so he started to devise a plan in his head.

Once Berryflight was out of view, and nobody else was looking, he snuck out and hurried his way towards the Medicine Cat Den, hoping there would be no patients inside.

There wasn't, luckily, but Loneheart did realize that in his haste he hadn't thought that Berryflight would be able to smell that he had been in here.

He tried to think of the excuse he would give her when she questioned him, but he could barely think anymore and he hit the ground a few more times with the back of his paw, bloodying himself on the hard floor.

For a moment he just sat there and stared at himself.

There was a line of already dried blood across his paw. It disturbed him.

Shuffling himself into the herb store, he grabbed what he had come for. Chamomile, raspberry leaves, and a poppy seed.

He shoved each into his mouth and was out of the Medicine Cat Den mere seconds later.

He didn't even look to see if anyone was watching, he just ran back to the warrior's den, and onto his nest, where he closed his eyes and hoped for the sleep he felt he deserved.

His body started shaking uncontrollably and Loneheart took another look at his paw.

There was some sort of brown muck sinking into his flesh. He took a claw and hesitantly pushed it further into his wound, causing blood to spurt, and pain to swell.

He ran it all the way across the line of blood.

The brown muck was gone.

He knew it had never been there, but maybe he just wanted to see it.

Loneheart hid the bleeding paw under his body as the shaking stopped and he tried to lie down, focusing on the pain from his paw.

Whenever a bad thought popped into his head, he would rub the paw around roughly against the moss nest, opening the wound further and spreading more blood on Lonehearts chest and stomach.

He knew he would have to clean this up without anyone seeing.

He didn't want to let anyone see him.

He couldn't let anyone see him.

In all his times of needs he turned to his father, but Stonefoot wasn't here.

He wasn't there to protect him. Loneheart felt a great sadness overtake him as clarity hit him, but soon it was gone, for the herbs finally took their effect, and Loneheart was overcome with the grand visage of a dream.

Awoken from his living nightmare into a dream, or something in between.

He was in a foggy wasteland, muck and rot bearing over the hills for as far as he could see, although that wasn't far.

All that remained clear in front of him was a rushing river, a deadly force carrying its water across its light blue surface.

Mystified by its majesty, he stepped closer to its rushing waves, despite the watery grave that lay before him if he went too far.

Across the river's depths, he saw but the same place he was already standing, reflected almost exactly, but in his own place, himself was it not that he did see.

There, stood beside the river, in just the way he remembered her, was Red.

Her face was clear to him despite the distance between the two.

She looked only as he remembered, slightly distorted by memory, but still with the same eyes that held secrets behind them that he would never know.

She appeared almost in front of him, her eyes locked into his.

Her voice was steady and strong as she began speaking, fully audible against the crashing waves like thunder that struck on the mainland constantly,

"Look now! See now! See now, across the river!

Where the rain goes when it melts into the dirt!

Can you see it, my son?

Do you feel it's desire?

This is death to those who have died before!

This is life and limb, fought and lost together!

This is love and pain!

Where the souls of the lovers leave their wallows!

Where the wanderer tells his final story!

My son! See me now!

The river holds the dead and the living, for there is no difference of the two!

This is not life!

This is not death!

This is you, my son!

This caricature of madness you hold!

You stand on the edge of land and yet you continue to sink deeper and deeper!

Let go of memory, myth, and fantasy!

Let go of life, death, and dream!

Let go of blood, health, and hurt!

My son, can you not see it is not real?

My son, can you not see that you are not real?

I see your eyes, they hold nothing but fear!

And your legs shake as the river rushes!

But what ails you my son?

Is it the river?

Is it your vision of me?

Tell me true, tell me why you fear,

There is nothing to hold you afraid!

How can you fear what does not exist?"

And in an instant, she was gone.

Loneheart awoke from the dream with a heavy feeling in his stomach, like someone had stuffed a rock down his throat.

He remembered his dream perfectly.

Never before had that happened.

Every time he thought about a dream, it would come to him in flashes of images and feelings, both at times too vague to describe, but almost always understandable.

But now he had every detail, every noise, every feeling, if only for this one night's worth of dreams.

It felt good, and as he replayed the dream over and over in his head, he felt a small joy that he hadn't had in a while.

He was able to see Red again, even if she hadn't been real.

Another cat entered the warrior's den, Snowflight, breaking Loneheart of his thoughts, "Finally up huh?"

"How, how long did I sleep?"

"It's just about sunhigh now. Yarrowleaf was trying to get you up earlier, but you were out cold," Loneheart wasn't surprised at what time it was.

He decided to ask a question, even though he knew Snowflight very little, "Do you ever get sad?" He immediately looked away, ashamed and regretting asking her that.

It was a stupid question, and yet he felt like he still didn't know what the answer would be,

"Hard night then?" Loneheart kept his eyes averted, "I'm sorry. Happens to all of us I'm sure. Maybe you should get out and go hunting, some fresh air would be nice for you, and some time to yourself would help you reflect a bit"

"I don't, want to be alone right now,"

"Really? I thought that's what you rogues liked was being alone,"

"I'm not a rogue," Snowflight didn't respond. Loneheart decided that he didn't want to be here anymore and started to stand up to leave.

Instantly blood began dripping from the paw which he had cut, and he moved swiftly to grab the soaked nest and run out with it, "Is that blood? Did you hurt yourself?" Snowflight asked before he could get anywhere.

Her back was to him, but she could certainly smell it, "I uh, I yeah, I must have, done it-hurt myself in my sleep,"

"That's a shame. Let Berryflight have a look at it," Her voice was getting drowsier with each word as she headed off to sleep, and Loneheart took the opportunity and made haste towards the camp entrance, wanting to discard of the nest as soon as possible without anyone seeing.

His paw stung every time it hit the ground, dust and dirt building up in the open wound, with a small trail of blood gaining thinner as it was clogged up.

He knew that cats would be questioning the trail of blood, but he resigned to just stay quiet about it, ashamed of his own blood.

He was hurting as he ran, but some part of him felt a deep pleasure at every spark of pain that shot through his body.

It wasn't a physical pleasure, nor an emotional or mental one, but something else.

How, despite an awful situation only continuing to get worse, it all felt right, though he knew it to be the opposite.

He climbed the rocky ravine, almost purposely rubbing his cut on the sharp stones.

The nest in his mouth, he began to be able to taste his own blood.

It was salty and felt dirty on his tongue.

He wanted to throw up and get the soaked nest as far away from him as he could.

He replayed his dream again, trying to distract himself further, but for some reason, this time, he couldn't remember anything.

Pausing, he spat the nest out onto the forest floor and began to gag.

His legs shook and he fell to the ground, his eyes positioned to stare right into the mess of dirt and blood that was his paw.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see it, but even with his eyes closed, he was flooded with nothing but the images that hurt him the most.

He wanted to cry, and there may have even already been tears in his eyes, but he told himself he wasn't supposed to do that, and that he had to stand up now.

He just wanted to remember his dream, to be able to escape further into his mind, but without a single stable thought in his head, Loneheart stood up slowly, he legs still unsteady, and with one last glance at the bloodied nest that he had failed to discard like he had planned to, he begun stumbling away, back to camp to face whatever questions were asked with a blank mind.

Surprisingly though, when he reached camp, it was as if nothing had happened.

Nobody was paying attention to Loneheart as he padded inside cautiously.

His blood was still stretched across the ground, with cats walking around it as they went about their days.

They obviously knew it was there, but none of them paid it any mind.

Loneheart walked in a bit further, forgetting that his paw was injured and accidently putting too much weight on it.

Pain shot through his leg and his spine and into his head, causing him to instantly recoil and almost bump into a passing Coldstone, who looked on with a certain disdain that was typical of her.

Loneheart knew that he had to go to the Medicine Cat Den, as much as he dreaded trying to explain what happened.

Stumbling over on three paws he noticed Berryflight already sitting outside of her den, as if expecting him.

Loneheart hated it when these kinds of things happened. There was something in the look of her eyes that made Loneheart uneasy.

Without a word, Berryflight backed into the den and Loneheart followed slowly behind.

As he got inside, she was already sorting through the herb store, picking out things and throwing them onto the ground beside her.

Loneheart took a free nest and lied down, although it felt wrong to do so.

Everything felt wrong right now.

Berryflight finished collecting her herbs and trotted over to meet Loneheart, wordlessly lifting his cut paw, but she spoke when she saw the mess that it was, "Loneheart! I thought that I'd have taught you better than to get all this muck in a wound. Are you looking to get an infection or something?"

Her scolding silenced any idea Loneheart had of responding, instead just looking away in shame as she painfully dug out all the excess blood and dirt.

He knew it had to be done, but it hurt, more than it had when he had just cut it the first time, but this time, he felt nothing good from it.

There was no sense or right or satisfaction at the action, just normal pain.

She smeared a stinging poultice across the wound, and then wrapped the whole thing in cobwebs to keep it in place, "Now," Berryflight started, "Keep off of that for a while. Go get some sleep and come see me again tomorrow morning. And just, don't drag it through the mud or whatever you were doing before,"

Loneheart felt his mind go blank as he drifted off from reality. His vision grew blurry, and his heartbeat pounded in his ear.

With every hit of his heart against his chest, he felt like there was blood surging out of his ears.

He wasn't sure when it had happened, but when his sight cleared, he was back in the warrior's den, in his nest.

But he was sure he had taken that nest out and left it in the woods.

A faint scent of blood still clung to the moss, but Loneheart felt himself growing tired, so he just decided to stop caring about what had and hadn't happened and when, and just relax.

He closed his eyes and was instantly shot back with shock.

The moon lay underneath his eyes, and even as he blinked, he caught a flash of moonlight, streaming directly into his eyes.

He was back in the cave.

There was blood on the walls and still no exit, but there stood a tree in the center of the small room, with that same hole in it seemingly the only way to go.

He peaked around the trunk of the tree to find his own body, broken and battered, his jaw removed, and his head caved in.

The eyes still moved.

Yellow eyes,

"STOP!" He screamed.

He screamed the loudest sound that he had ever made before.

He had had enough. He ran to the nearest corner and, facing it, closed his eyes again, refusing to continue on.

This had gone on for too long.

He couldn't deal with it anymore.

Loneheart awoke in a different nest, but still in the warrior's den.

There was still nobody inside with him, and he couldn't tell what time it was.

He stood up slowly, accidentally putting too much weight onto his cut paw, which still had the cobwebs on it.

It didn't seem like it had been there for long, so Loneheart just assumed he only took a small nap, but still refused to check outside.

He couldn't remember much of his dream.

The only thing he remembered was that he had been swimming in the river between Thunderclan and Riverclan, and that when he had gotten out of the water and was stood staring at his reflection, his vision started flashing white at random.

Every flash, his face had become more distorted.

It was an oddly pleasant dream, he felt, and he lied back down to try and go back, since he didn't feel like he had anything else to do.

It was then that he noticed he was in Yarrowleafs nest.

She must have let him sleep there since he didn't have one at the moment.

He thought that was very nice and settled down with a good feeling in his stomach.

There was a small dark flower in the corner of the den, which began to spread across the floor and over his body.

And then he woke up.

Loneheart got up once again, hopefully in some sort of a reality this time, and stuck his head out of the warrior's den to make sure there were other cats around.

There were, luckily, Yarrowleaf and Dewstorm sitting beside each other where they usually ate, and Snowflight just coming back from a hunt with a squirrel in her jaws.

Looking around and stepping out further, he wondered where Stonefoot was.

He felt like he hadn't seen his father in a long while.

Loneheart took one last look into the warrior's den, then stepped out completely into the dull light of the sun against the grayed sky above.

There never seemed to be many cats in camp when he was around, Loneheart realized.

Yarrowleaf locked eyes with him for a moment and then motioned with her tail for him to join her and Dewstorm, "Hi Loneheart!" Dewstorm was the first to speak as he hobbled over, his paw stinging even as he kept it in the air,

"Hi," He replied,

"What happened to your paw?" Yarrowleaf asked,

"I, cut it,"

"That's too bad. Would you like something to eat? You've been asleep for a while,"

"Uh, probably not," Despite the time that Yarrowleaf implied he had been asleep for, he wasn't hungry at all.

In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he ate something.

Dewstorm was starting to look a bit uncomfortable and pulled his eyes away from Loneheart, focusing on the magpie he was eating, although he wasn't taking any bites anymore.

Yarrowleaf saw this and quietly asked, "Could we go over there for a second?" pointing towards the nearest corner of the camp, well away from spying ears.

Loneheart didn't respond verbally and just followed the fellow warrior until they were out of range from the few other cats in camp, "Are you okay?" She asked.

It was a simple question, one that should have been easy to answer. He knew it was a lie, but he could only bring himself to answer, "Yeah, I'm fine," It was a pathetic lie,

"You can talk to me Loneheart," Yarrowleaf implored, "Please don't shut yourself off. I want to help, I want to listen. Please Loneheart, you know I love you, and I hate seeing you in pain. I just want to help," Loneheart started stuttering. He wasn't sure what to do now,

"I-I'm, I'm uh, I need to go and, go, do something," And then he simply turned away from what seemed to be one of the only cats willing to help him.

He knew he needed help, he wanted help, but yet he still found a way to avoid it in every possible situation.

There was a fear that came with trying to fix problems.

He was so used to the way things were that it scared him to try and find a better way.

He decided right then, as he ran from Yarrowleaf and out of camp, that he needed to find an answer to just one question.

He just wanted one answer.

He was going to find Red.

"Are you awake?"

Loneheart made his way through Thunderclan territory with good haste, wanting to get out as soon as he possibly could.

Every moment he remained the forest felt like a nightmare.

Shadowclan territory wasn't far off now, but he would have to take the long way around and travel on the outskirts of their land, since if he was caught, he knew it wouldn't end well, and he didn't have the time to be stopped.

He came upon the Thunderpath, once in his mind and twice in his sight, and paused only for a brief moment of fear before hurtling across, praying to that which took no pity on him.

But luck had his favor, and Loneheart made it safely to the other side.

From there he walked along the scent markers of Shadowclan as he went in the direction he thought the Twolegplace to be in, hoping to find Red there, and hoping that she was even still alive.

Memories flooded back into his mind as he recognized himself to be in a similar situation to when he had come last time, and that time, he had failed in his mission.

As he trotted along, he noticed no noise from the surrounding forest.

There were no cats, no birds, no squirrels, and no monsters, only the soft chilled breeze that kept him from believing he'd gone deaf.

Leaf-fall had taken full form by now, and Loneheart hated the cold. His light pelt barely kept anything out and he longed again for the days of New-leaf.

For a long while he walked, it was almost sunhigh when he finally saw Twoleg dens start to line the scenery.

He followed the backways between the forest and the Twolegplace, and he began to hear sounds typical of Twolegs.

Loneheart climbed up atop a rock wall, perhaps the same one he had sat on all those moons ago, staring between the same two Twoleg dens, and wondering just what he was doing here.

Gathering the strength to continue, he jumped down and began to make his way into the open strips of dens and Thunderpaths.

He turned left, the same as he had done before, and hoped to find the same woodstock that he had come across Red lying upon.

Again, he bounded across the Thunderpath, confident that he must be in the same area now, but unsure of anything else. He made it safely to the other side, with the same heavy breathing as he had had before.

He took a moment to calm down, and to take in his surroundings, seeing things that, although looked unfamiliar, he must have seen before.

The hard ground of the Twolegplace always made him feel like he was walking on stones, and he always had to look at his paws when moving so he could figure out where exactly to put them, such as a kit learning to take its first steps.

When he did look up however, he noticed the one thing that he did truly remember.

The black woodstock, and on top of it, with one hazed eye open and the other closed, was Red.

She seemed to be asleep, but still her blind eye stared into him, "Red?" Loneheart whispered. Even though he wanted to wake her up, he still felt like he had to be quiet,

"Yes?" She replied, her good eye still closed.

She lifted herself up and opened it, looking down to see the visitor who had called for her, "Lonepaw? What are you doin back here?"

"I needed to talk to you,"

"Why me? I assumed that I'd left you with enough knowledge to tell you that I'm not somebody to go to in many situations,"

"But, everything's gone wrong!" He cried, his voice choked back by the remnants of tears. Red leaped down from the woodstock and said, "You're in pain, aren't you? How you've grown," With her tail, she wrapped halfway around his neck, "Have you become a warrior yet?"

"Yeah, why?" Loneheart replied, his head down and his mind the same way,

"Names are important, I would like to know what yours is,"

"Loneheart," He felt ashamed. His name was a mockery of everything that he was.

It was the final joke that Starclan had given him, sat in their domain of the stars, he hated them,

"What are you here for, Loneheart? Are you looking for advice? Are you looking for help? Are you looking for comfort? Do you even know yourself?"

"I just, wanted to see you,"

"Then lift your head up, and look to me. If that is what you want, then look," He couldn't bring himself to, "Come now, with me. Let's go somewhere quieter,"

"Why? Why do you humor my musings? I shouldn't have come here, I've only inconvenienced you,"

"My actions don't come out of humor, or any sort of convenience. Now, come on," She started to walk off, and Loneheart followed.

They arrived somewhere in the woods, and Loneheart followed Red as she snuck into an underground den, perhaps originally belonging to a fox or a badger.

Loneheart couldn't remember how they had got there. He didn't have a memory of walking here.

They were just talking in the Twolegplace, and then they were here. It was dark in the den, as to be expected, and the further they moved in, the less the outside light was able to creep into his sight.

Eventually, it was completely dark, with not a single thing to be seen.

That's when he heard Red drop down onto the ground, and Loneheart did the same opposite of her in this tiny tunnel-like den.

In silence they sat for a few moments, soundless, sightless, speechless, until finally, Red spoke, "Do you want to be dead, Loneheart?"

"What? No,"

"Then why do you continue killing yourself?" Loneheart didn't have an answer for that, "Well, maybe it really is just out of your control. But I don't want to lecture you anymore, not today. This is your life, and you must take it back,"

"I saw you in my dream,"

"What did I do?"

"I don't remember," Loneheart said sorrowfully. He hated himself for not being able to remember anything,

"I know what I was doing,"

"What are we talking about?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all my friend,"

"When will I see you again?"

"Soon my friend. But this time, I'll find you. Now, it's time to wake up,"

Until I write again,

-Gojira