From the blitzing raze, Firedrinker collapsed several hours later, drunk on bloody mead and power, crashing as if his head were filled with molten lead.

Dreams wouldn't offer him a respite from the aching.

In a hazed field, Firedrinker's paws slathered in fine silt. The sun danced a mad rollick across the sky, burning away each cloud it grazed, marking daybreak in smoke mistakenly grazing the seas of the horizon, bathing the world in steam. Firedrinker turned to avoid stinging his eyes, bumping into a gray tabby mutually staring at him with confusion. Firedrinker stepped forward, trying to peer a better glance at the cat, who melted into a puddle amidst the steam before he could recognize him. Instinctively, Firedrinker then looked down.

His paws sloshed.

His own intestines were spilling out.

Firedrinker grabbed them with a paw, each movement relinquishing more from his gut, until he felt a tugging from behind. He turned. A crab had one of his meat-tubes in its pincers, squeezing it.

Firedrinker pounced, but the crab already snipped his organs. A brown blend of bile and blood spilled from the tube. Quickly, Firedrinker stuck it in his own mouth and drank it like a scatological milkshake. "How far you've fallen," a voice meowed at him. "Tornstar," Firedrinker tried to meow, if not for his own juices gargling his word into an inaudible, spluttering mess. Tornstar shook his head in disappointment. "Tongue in a colon? I didn't realize it was Friday already. Take that out, before we rename you to Shitdrinker." Firedrinker spat his intestine aside, nevermore paying attention as it dissipated into the usual void of dream logic.

"Tornstar," he meowed proper. The deceased leader croaked, "And the dialogue is off to a roaring start." Firedrinker spat, "Oh, would you shut the fuck up and get to the point instead of wasting my time with these bumblefuck prophecies?" Tornstar couldn't help but chuckle, meowing, "Hey, I have no idea what... whatever the fuck that was... was all about. But I am here to deliver a message." Firedrinker shuffled his paws into a comfortable squat, meowing "That's all you rancid old nonces ever do nowadays. Alright, lay it on me." Tornstar opened his mouth eagerly, then let it hang open for a second. His expression sank as he let air seep out, "Oooo... uhm... ah... Here's the thing. I forgot what it was." Firedrinker's shoulders sulked. "You're kidding, right?" Tornstar got comfortable on his stomach, "We have all night to remember."

Firedrinker relaxed as well, and the two relaxed together in awkward silence for a few minutes before Firedrinker meowed, "You weren't this forgetful when I served under you." Tornstar rolled his eyes and purred, "Yeah, but I also had a Clan to run. Needed to focus, you know?" Firedrinker was happy that this was at least going somewhere. "Let me guess, StarClan has a brewery?" Tornstar chuckled, "No, I spent my last few moons with half my mind gone. I promised myself I'd toss out the other half after I passed on. Too much of a burden." Perhaps it was nostalgia, but Firedrinker couldn't help but chuckle.

Tornstar, plopping on his side, stared down his former apprentice. "I hoped you similarly would learn to use a little more foresight."

Firedrinker admitted with a dry peep, "I prefer being in-the-moment." Tornstar's tone deepened, "That's not working for... this." Firedrinker rebuked with a slight snarl, "What exactly do you mean 'this?'" Tornstar rolled back on his fluffy tummy. "Tell me, why exactly did you go blow up a barn?" Firedrinker was annoyed that he needed to explain to the already-omniscient StarClan what was happening. "We're going to kill this 'Firestar' fellow." Tornstar faked a coy voice, "So Firestar was in the barn?" "No," Firedrinker spat. Tornstar didn't meet his anger, "So where is Firestar then?" Firedrinker glanced down. "I don't know."

In a flash, Tornstar's fur stood on end. The cat was upright, snarling in Firedrinker's face and showing his putrid black teeth, "And there's your problem!" Firedrinker flinched, "I know!" Tornstar stepped forward to match his apprentice, "You know, you don't know, you know, you don't know... Jesus Christ on a Powerwolf cover, pick one! You either have a grip on it, or you don't, and if you want to be a leader, then get your shit together if it isn't!"

Firedrinker was well into 'pissed off.' He snarled, "You senile old fuck. Do you StarClan cats do anything except bitch, or do you plan on actually helping?" Tornear laughed, "Oh, am I wasting your time? What, you liked dreaming of slurping your own shit? Boo hoo, I'm the one getting dragged out of paradise to help your dumb ass fix his own fuck up."

And you've been such a great help so far, Firedrinker wanted to shout, but noticed the implication. He meowed with a crusty smile, "So, you finally remember what you were here for?" Tornear tensed a bit, then relaxed, "Shit, guess I do."

"There's a creature named Midnight who lives by the sea," Tornear meowed, "She looks like a badger, and for all your Clanmates should know she is one. She's an ancient spirit as old as the world itself, and watched the birth of all prophecies with her companion Rock. Both of then know of Firestar. She can lead you to him."

Firedrinker was silent. Tornstar turned back to him. "Can't choke out a 'thank you?' You weren't that proud when I knew you." Firedrinker jerked his head upwards in realization, then collected himself with a soft meow, "I'm just trying to predict what you're going to say when I ask why you wasted my time instead of just telling me that." Tornstar chuckled, "It was funnier to watch that other prophecy play out first." Firedrinker simply snarled, to which Tornear purred, "Oh! Slip lf the tongue. And with that, I leave you to your Clan," he meowed, and dissipated into the mist. Firedrinker paid no mind, mentally repeating his realization. If this 'Midnight' knows who Firestar is, we'll have to kill her too.

The dream world faded to white.

Nightpaw woke up with a splitting migraine and a whirlpool in her gut. She glanced around in a faint darkness, wondering if something damaged her eye. Oh, right, Moonstone. Mothermouth. A party that ended up with only seven DeathMetalClan cats getting their legs ripped apart. She avoided the violence by taking to the cave walls - painting with the blood splattering around her, making a mural amidst the other artists. Her clanmates were crude - using blood or bile to hail pagan barbarisms and deamons, mingling with vulgarities in a fit of testosterone-induced fervor. This piece was different - an indifferent Twoleg angel in a red gown wrapping its wings around a collection of skulls, flayed over an orgy of desecrated maidenhood, where five-legged monsters of gangly spines and toothed eyes slashed at cowering beasts and fucked whatever hole was created. When the rest of her Clan came-to, several of them stopped to glance at the art, unaware that Nightpaw made it in protest.

She wasn't even seven minutes from her morning stretch that a simp named Dreadnaught walked over. "Hey Nightpaw, I'm very, very glad that you're still alive." Nightpaw just hummed affirmatively. The simp meowed, trying to follow up his greeting, "So, uh, cool painting." 'Cool.' Nightpaw winced her brow, cringing slightly. Of course it's 'cool.' That's the most basic shit anyone can say about a piece of art - some entry-level judgment that it's either acceptable to taste or not. Did I texture the gown correctly? Were the skulls of proportionate to my stylization or did I create a visual dissonance? Did they even get my message? Who knows! All that this dolt knew was that it's 'cool.' Or, maybe, I could have just sprayed shit and vaginal-blood all over it, and this thirsty little chode would try to justify it post-humorous with some commentary about feminism or some shit. "I guess," she meowed. "I just hope someone sees it later." Dreadnaught opened his mouth, but was too perplexed to meow.

The simp's brother, Warpaw walked over next, yawning, "Hey Pussbitch, hey Nightpaw. Cool painting."Nightpaw sighed, but was immediately taken aback when she noticed him scanning it throughout. Warpaw meowed, "Angel of death commandingly nature's brutality. Huh. So who's doing the gore-fucking?" Nightpaw double-glanced between the display and Warpaw. "It's DeathMetalClan." Warpaw gave a contemplating stare, before nodding a small "Uh huh..." Dreadnaught's tail flicked in frustration, "Why are you here?" Warpaw meowed, "Firedrinker's hangover-shouting at anyone in a ten-foot radius to get the fuck out of this cave and exposition chapter already. Megadeth's making sure he doesn't turn his intestines inside-out, Ringotingo is still outside, and that temp..." Nightpaw interjected, "Blindguardian?" Warpaw chirped, "...Right, that guy. Someone cleaved his skull in with a shovel. So, it's ad hoc for us peasants."

Dreadnaught's patience only diminished. "So after we leave, we wait?" Nightpaw got to her paws. "Let's go ask Ringotingo, in a few. Maybe he'll have an idea." Dreadnaught meowed, "'In a few?'" "Yeah," she explained, "We need to make sure everyone is... accounted for." Warpaw scoffed. "Hard call. Some of these guys had their faces turned into paste, but the number I'm hearing thrown around is 'eight,' counting that suicidal boomer."

Disgusting.

Absolutely disgusting. These were his Clanmates. Nightpaw snapped, snarling "That's disrespectful. These are your CLANMATES. The cats you grew up with, and now they're dead. Doesn't that matter to you? To ANY of you?" A murmer of confusion spurred in Warpaw's meow, "No?"

She didn't have a retort besides retreating into her mind. Am I the only one who loves my Clanmates? She shook her head, defeated. "Fuck it, you two go, I'll catch up and make sure nobody gets lost in the cave." Dreadnaught forced excitement, "Wow, you're brave, Nightpaw!" She halfheartedly meowed, "Shut up."

Ringotingo wingo'd his singo's. It sounded like there was a party in there last night, and now his Clanmates were pouring out. Ringotingo looked down and started counting the cats.

First there was Spleeneater, then there was Goatsucker, then Switchback, then... huh, Firedrinker was leaning against Megadeth. Joyous morning. Ringotingo put his cotton paws to his mouth in animated surprise and got to his feet. A small peep came in his direction. "Ringotingo," Dreadnaught meowed, "Since Firedrinker's out, we were wondering if you had any idea where to go next?"

Ringotingo put a hand on his hip, and another on his chin. "That's a good question," he meowed. "Hmmm, so if you didn't find anything in there?" As soon as he finished, Firedrinker shouted, choking back vomit, "OCEAN!" Dreadnaught glanced back. "Guess we're going to the ocean." Ringotingo meowed, throwing his paws in the air. "Hmmm... okay, the sea. That's a distance, but don't worry, I have an idea for how to get there!"