That night, he has a beautiful dream. They are standing in the sunlight, him and her, the way he's always thought it should be. The grass is soft beneath his paws; softer, thinks Strongclaw, than Sablefrost's pelt of midnight and ebony.
But that's an easy feat to accomplish, because as she turns to him, he sees she's covered in frost, that it clings to her. That ice really is her second skin. She has blue eyes, more glacial than cerulean.
When he touches her, she is rent apart. She bleeds, and it's red, and for that he is surprised. It burns through her blankness, melts away her frost. He apologizes, but her eyes don't change. They're blue, blue, blue, and he can't stand the colour.
Her name in his broken words; a flicker of green; and then he knows she's gone.
No lies; that one depressed me.