Sunlight streamed into Heronpaw's face, waking him. He laid still for a while, letting the rays warm his fur. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that this wasn't right. The sun had set that night on a forest suffocating under an early leaf-bare, but the warm sunshine felt so good. He didn't want this to be a dream.
He breathed in, tasting the comforting scents of new growth and warm dirt. He let the smells soothe him. Then a sickly sweet, familiar scent drifted over his tongue and a stab of dread chased away his content. So, she had taken to visiting his dreams, had she? His whiskers twitched with apprehension and his whole body stiffened. All dregs of sleep left his senses, leaving him on high alert. Maybe she would speak this time. He held his breath and waited. Nothing.
Heronpaw sighed. As always, she was unwilling or unable to communicate. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at an empty, dreamlike den. Streams of sunlight filtered through the tiny holes in the den ceiling and dappled the nest-strewn ground.
Heronpaw gave himself a mental shake and rose to his paws. He took a deep breath. A cold pricking sensation shot through his tail and down to his paws. He shivered involuntarily. He didn't want to turn around.
As he did, the landscape around him dramatically changed. Instead of a warm, springy den, Heronpaw now found himself in a dark, freezing snowscape. The change was so jarring that Heronpaw's whole pelt stood on end in shock. He whipped back around, hoping to return to the warm den, but all he could see was endless snow-covered forest.
The silence that came with the snow burned his ears. He flattened them against his head and turned back around. A slight movement in the darkness ahead of him caught his eye. He squinted, trying to get a better look.
The white she-cat was slowly making her way through the snowy trees towards Heronpaw. She blended almost perfectly with the snow around her, making it nearly impossible to discern her shape from her surroundings. As she came closer Heronpaw sank to a crouch, shivering violently.
He watched the she-cat's movements closely. Something seemed off about them. All the times he had seen her before, she had carried herself with an almost ethereal presence. She usually seemed to skim the ground with her paws rather than touching it directly. This time was different. She had her head down and ears back. Her movements were small and jerky. He watched as she came to a halt completely and looked around. She looked as though she was afraid of being seen.
Heronpaw opened his jaws to call out, but a flicker of movement in the corner of his vision distracted him. A dark shape was making its way through the shadowy tree-line. It was another cat, one he had never seen before. The cat was huge. Its massive shoulders were lifted in a stalking position. Every heartbeat or so the cat moved forward. There was a deadly purpose in its steps.
It took a moment before Heronpaw realized what the cat was doing.
Heronpaw looked back and forth between the two cats, panic rising in his chest. The she-cat seemed to have no idea that she was being hunted. She continued to struggle through the snow, unaware that her pursuer was closing in rapidly. Heronpaw jumped to his paws and tried to yowl a warning. The sound halted halfway up his throat. He choked silently on the words.
Through streaming eyes Heronpaw tried to see what was happening. He caught sight of the massive tom closing in on his target. Before Heronpaw could move another muscle, the two cats disappeared behind a curtain of white. In just moments the night had gone from clear and still to a swirling mass of howling wind and snow.
Shaking his head free of the sudden bewilderment, Heronpaw forced his half-frozen legs to move. He was determined to get to the white cat in time. He tried again to yowl, but an invisible pelt blocked his muzzle. Instead, he pushed forward in the direction he knew the she-cat had gone. His eyes strained to see through the swirling snow.
As suddenly as it had come, the wind died. In one final gust, the gale swept all of the excess snow from the air. Heronpaw shook his head and blinked rapidly in order to clear his vision.
The landscape had changed again. This time Heronpaw found himself on the edge of a slick gray rock looking out over a frozen lake.
Am I on the Great Rocks?
His paws scrabbled on the icy surface as he tried to back away from the sharp drop off. After only moving a few pawsteps, the hair on the back of Heronpaw's neck stood. He flattened his ears and slowly turned to face the daunting presence.
Before the shadowy figure could come into relief, a sudden movement to the left caught Heronpaw's attention. Before he could react or even process what was happening, a massive force slammed into Heronpaw's shoulder, knocking him completely off his paws. With a strangled yowl Heronpaw toppled off the side of the sharp outcrop and over the sheer edge.
Time seemed to slow down for Heronpaw as he fell. His heart wasn't beating and his lungs were stuck in a stinging inhale. His flailing form twisted in mid-air. The edge of the rock came into view as he tried desperately to figure out which way was up. Heronpaw found himself staring into the face of a huge black tom who was standing on the rock and looking down. Heronpaw's eyes widened and icy claws of panic gripped his stomach.
Heronpaw continued to fall backward towards the frozen lake's surface. His heart pounded once-twice-three times before he felt his arched spine smash into the black ice. It was only a moment before the surface gave way and Heronpaw plunged into the depths.
Numbness overtook Heronpaw's body almost instantly. The shattering pain that had shot through him on impact was gone, replaced now with an odd spreading warmth. As he sank, Heronpaw kept his eyes directed skyward. The water around him was clouding with red. He flailed his paws as a final resort, not really thinking it would do anything. In fact, Heronpaw's foggy brain was slowly becoming incapable of any thought at all. His eyelids grew heavy.
The darkness behind Heronpaw's eyelids was absolute. The feeling was actually quite pleasant. A sudden light stung at his eyes. He tried to turn his head away from the unexpected brightness but found that he could no longer move his body. The only thing he seemed to be able to move were his eyes. He slowly opened them.
The white she-cat greeted his gaze. Finally, she had shown herself. A strange bright light was emanating from her flowing pelt. Heronpaw held eye contact with her for a few heartbeats. Her intense stare was overflowing with fear, guilt, and despair. Heronpaw felt his own heart twisting with pain and sorrow that magnified with each passing moment. His body began to shake and it became increasingly difficult to keep looking the she-cat in the eye. Before the waves of emotion became too much, Heronpaw squeezed his eyes shut.
. . .
Dawnheart stood, teeth clenched and legs shaking, on the ice. He stared down at the white she-cat's terrified face underneath the frozen sheet. She was scrabbling at the underside of her watery prison with such desperation that her claws began to leave clouds of blood in the water.
Dawnheart tried to make his muscles move, tried to smash at the ice with his paws in order to free her, but just as he had been unable to stop his body from shoving her over the edge, he couldn't make himself move to save her now. Instead of the horrified yowl that his body wanted to produce, a different sound came from his gaping jaw. A sound he had not put there.
"This is how traitors die."
Dawnheart's head reeled. The roughness of the voice was not his own. The sneer that contorted his face was not his doing. His eyes locked with the white she-cat under the ice. Her face was hauntingly calm. Her eyes were no longer pools of emotion. They were blank.
A tiny stream of bubbles escaped the white cat's mouth. Her white fur flowed out around her, giving her form a fuzzy edge. She began to sink, falling further and further from Dawnheart's vision. Finally, she faded completely into the darkness.
The abyss that had consumed her pulsed for a moment before spreading rapidly to cover Dawnheart's vision. The darkness came with a deafening silence. Dawnheart hung, robbed of his senses.
A low moan of grief broke the silence and echoed around the empty space. A sudden stab of icy despair threatened to choke him. The moan grew louder and louder until it was a tempest of agony ringing in Dawnheart's ears.
Finally able to move again, Dawnheart sank to his belly and clamped his forepaws over his ears. He screamed into the storm; his own wail lost in the impossible, ear-splitting chaos.
Make it stop! StarClan, make it stop!
. . .
"Watch where you're putting your claws!"
Heronpaw jumped back from Hollowtree's pelt as the old cat yowled in indignation.
"Sorry!" Heronpaw gasped. He shook himself mentally.
He wasn't at the lake. He wasn't drowning in a frozen lake. He was here in the elder's den doing tick duty, just as he had been for the past two days.
Heronpaw shook his head, trying to dispel the horrible memory of his dream. Dismayed, he noticed a bead of scarlet blood welling up between Hollowtree's striped shoulders.
"I'm sorry." Heronpaw mumbled again, looking down at his paws in shame. Hollowtree just grumbled and shuffled away from the apprentice. The old tabby flopped down next to Foxtail and turned to lick the puncture.
"I can get my own ticks." He growled.
Heronpaw shuffled his feet awkwardly.
"I have some ticks young'un." Beepelt said in a croaking voice from his nest in the corner. The black and gray elder was waving his tail at Heronpaw. Heronpaw blinked gratefully at Beepelt and padded over.
"Watch out for his claws." Foxtail sniffed. "He's being careless."
Heronpaw glanced at the grumpy she-cat and flattened his ears in shame. The elder was right. Heronpaw was far too distracted to be poking around the thin pelts of old cats with his claws out.
Heronpaw's mind was clouded by the dream. He felt cold and fearful at every moment. The anger and turmoil that had been his constant companion for the past few days was gone, replaced instead by a creeping sense of dread and hopelessness.
"Thorn in your belly, boy?" Beepelt said quietly as Heronpaw began searching the elder's back for parasites. Heronpaw's eyes met Beepelt's earnest amber gaze and felt himself relax a little. Beepelt was always the most reasonable elder. He understood the apprentices and enjoyed their company. With a stab of guilt Heronpaw realized that he hadn't been very good company for the old cat lately.
Heronpaw dropped his gaze, shrugged, and continued pawing through Beepelt's shoulder fur.
"You used to be so cheerful when you came to see us." Beepelt continued. "You've been as grumpy as Foxtail lately."
Heronpaw found a tick and crunched it between his teeth. The taste was foul. He would rather taste the tick than feel the growing shame beneath his pelt.
Beepelt sighed in relief.
"He's an apprentice." Foxtail said from her nest. She was cleaning her bushy tail. "They're always moody."
Beepelt flicked a black ear but ignored her.
"I know apprenticeship is hard, but you're a good and strong cat. You'll be fine." Beepelt said in a low voice so only Heronpaw could hear.
Heronpaw felt a rush of affection for the old cat. The elder had often visited the nursery when Heronpaw and his brothers were kits. He had brought mousetails and moss balls and told them stories. Even though he wasn't directly kin, Beepelt had always made an effort to make Heronpaw feel better. Another stab of guilt reminded Heronpaw that he had never kept his promise to share battle stories with the striped tom.
Trying to distract himself, Heronpaw redoubled his search. He found another tick on Beepelt's spine and bent to crunch the fat little body between his teeth. Before he could do away with the pest, Beepelt's flank began to spasm as the old cat fell into a sudden and violent coughing fit. Heronpaw jumped back and flattened his ears.
Beepelt coughed for a few heartbeats. It was a deep, hacking cough that made Heronpaw's blood run cold. Cats who coughed like that could have whitecough, a disease brought on by the cold of leaf-bare. Without proper treatment whitecough could develop into deadly greencough. Heronpaw scrambled to his feet.
"Shall I fetch Plumleaf?" he said as soon as Beepelt's fit subsided. Foxtail opened her mouth to speak, but Beepelt interrupted her.
"No, no. I'm fine." He spluttered. His mew was weak and wheezy. His amber eyes streamed and his nose glistened with wetness. Heronpaw took an involuntary step back. He glanced at the other elders. Hollowtree was watching his denmate with narrowed eyes and Foxtail's whiskers were twitching anxiously. Heronpaw caught the old she-cat's eye and she gave him a tiny nod.
"I need mousebile for that stubborn tick." Heronpaw said quickly. "I'll be right back."
Before Beepelt could argue, Heronpaw turned and dashed out of the den. The cold morning air shocked him as he left the relative warmth of the elder's hollow. He shivered and fluffed out his pelt. The early leaf-bare was showing no signs of retreating. That made Beepelt's apparent sickness all the worse.
He hurried across the frozen ground to the medicine den entrance. There were cats milling around but no one stopped to speak. They kept their heads low and pelts fluffed out against the chill.
Heronpaw slowed as he reached the tunnel. The ferns that usually covered the cleft in the rock had withered from the cold and he could see past them into the medicine clearing. He was surprised to see that there were a few cats in the nests lining the area.
Before Heronpaw could go further, Petalpaw appeared at the other end of the entrance. She looked momentarily startled before shoving Heronpaw back the way he'd come.
"Hey!" Heronpaw said, backing up quickly. "I need- "
"No one is allowed in there." Petalpaw interrupted.
Heronpaw tilted his head. "Why?"
Petalpaw looked around as if she were making sure they were alone. No cat was near enough to hear, so Petalpaw leaned in close.
"Whitecough. I was on my way to tell Blizzardstar." She whispered in his ear.
Heronpaw's stomach lurched. He craned his neck, trying to see over Petalpaw's head. She thwarted his efforts by straightening up and blocking his view.
"I'll help you later." She said. She turned to go.
"Wait!" Heronpaw hissed quietly. Petalpaw stopped.
"I think Beepelt is sick." Heronpaw said.
Petalpaw's green eyes grew large with despair. "Plumleaf was hoping it didn't get to the elders." She said, shaking her head. "I'll check on Beepelt when I've spoken to Blizzardstar."
Without another word Petalpaw dashed away. Heronpaw watched her go, feeling sick. The cold in the clearing felt like that of his dream. He couldn't help but wonder what Petalpaw would make of it. This dream hadn't been like others he'd had. He could remember every detail perfectly. Every miniscule, horrifying detail.
He shivered.
"Heronpaw! Are you finished?" Kestrelfeather's call made Heronpaw jump. His mentor was standing at the edge of the fresh-kill pile. The warrior's tail was twitching and he churned his paws into the icy dirt. Heronpaw flinched under Kestrelfeather's annoyed expression.
"I'm waiting for some mousebile." Heronpaw called back. Kestrelfeather lashed his tail once.
"Come find me when you're done then." The auburn warrior stalked away. Heronpaw's pelt pricked with irritation. They could be hunting for the Clan if Kestrelfeather hadn't punished Heronpaw for no reason. He began pacing to pass the time and to work off his annoyance.
It wasn't long before Petalpaw emerged from Blizzardstar's den and bounded back to Heronpaw's side.
She nodded to Heronpaw. "Take me to Beepelt."
Heronpaw led her to the elder's hollow. He stayed outside as Petalpaw ducked under the stone overhang and slipped into the small, dimly lit space. To Heronpaw's dismay he could hear Beepelt coughing again.
He heard Petalpaw's soft murmurs and Beepelt's frustrated croaks. Eventually Beepelt's striped nose poked out of the den and he shuffled out into the cold, grumbling all the way. Petalpaw emerged after him and led the elder to the medicine tunnel. Heronpaw watched them go. A ball of anxiety had formed in his chest.
"Heronpaw!"
Kestrelfeather's annoyed yowl broke through Heronpaw's anxious thoughts. He turned and trudged across the clearing to where his mentor was waiting.