'Make me a promise that
Time won't erase us
That we were not lost from the start.'

'Still Here' - Digital Daggers

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Fuhren's chilling laugh echoed cruelly through the silent camp, his amber eyes practically drinking up the sight of innocent blood soaking into the grass, claws kneading the branch in pure bliss. He nudged his daughter with one forepaw, "look at how their blood mingles with the rain! It creates a river, fertilises new growth! It's a sign, daughter, a sign that our tribe will bloom!" Swinging his head he took in the wondering looks of his tribe-mates. "Do you hear what I say? The tribe will live long after we are gone!"

"Why are you using murder as a sign of new life!?" Willowclaw screeched, shouldering his way through the gathered tribe to stand in the blood of his deceased friends. His sides rose and fell rapidly, anger surging through his veins, mixing with his blood to form a potent mix. "I don't understand!"

"Of course you don't; you're a Clan cat. Clan cats are stupid, it's a well known fact," Fuhren replied smugly.

Rainpatch's outraged voice rose from the crowd, "did he just call us stupid!? After all we've done for him? I'll show him st- that's my tail!"

"Please," Blute's face was pulled into an agonised expression filled with longing and loss. "You must understand how much we need signs like this, they fuel our fading hope. This is our home, Willowclaw, just as the valley is yours. We want to stay here, and now with this," she indicated to the devastation with her tail, "we can."

The dark tabby shook his head in disbelief. He'd almost trusted her; thought of her as a ray of sunshine in this dark tribe. How wrong he had been. "You used friends of mine as a tool to dig your dying tribe further into its grave. Do you expect me to just..accept that and move on?"

When Blute met his gaze once again strength had formed in her sky-coloured eyes, flooding her features, returning her to the heiress her father wanted. It disgusted Willowclaw. "Yes. My tribe is not dying, not anymore. With the deaths of Padshiy and Kateria we have been freed. We can grow strong once again, even under the watchful eye of Crimson."

"Listen to your future leader speak!" Fuhren crowed to his tribe. "Listen to how well she understands us all!"

Willowclaw snarled at the brutish tom, "Stop manipulating her into something you want. A leader should believe in her own decisions, not think about what would make her nutty father pleased," to Blute he added: "Crimson won't leave this tribe alone until you bow down to her. You will die every one of you. Don't forget who killed Padshiy and Kateria, it wasn't any of you, it was me alongside the two innocents you murdered in cold blood!"

"I didn't lay a claw on them!" Blute protested.

The elites were stalking towards Willowclaw with claws unsheathed; eyes alight with the adrenaline given by battle. He kept a watchful eye on them. "No. But you did nothing to stop their slaughter. That makes you just as much of a murderer as those who struck them down."

"Willowclaw!" Eaglestrike shouted, "Leave it! We're leaving tomorrow morning, the tribe will have to fend by themselves once we're gone. It's not worth the trouble."

"Am I supposed to let them get away with what they've done!?" he shot back, whipping around to snap his jaws shut whiskers from Eaglestrike's muzzle. The reddish tom, who had made his way slowly through the crowd to join Willowclaw in the blood, blinked in surprise, and then his gaze softened in sorrowful understanding.

"Saving them wouldn't make up for the countless deaths back home. You know that. Leave it, Willowclaw. Cats that once followed Crimson aren't worth the fuss," Eaglestrike reminded.

"They didn't want to be her soldiers! How would you know what they wanted!? You hardly spoke more than two words to them! Stop trying to be some prodigal, perfect leader! You will never be a good leader as long as you only look at the things right in front of your nose!" Willowclaw accused, "face it, PhoenixClanner, Tornheart would've known what to do."

Littleflame thrust her way in between the spitting toms with a quiet growl. "Stop it, both of you! This isn't going to make anything better! Don't you remember what Tornheart said to us before...before...you know..." she trailed off, throat going dry, before she cleared it and continued, "she told us to look after each other like a family, because we're all we have left. We're more than a moon away from home, stumbling through a world we've never seen before trying to do something we've been prophesised to do. We can't do it alone, we need each other!"

"Prophesised? As in...a prophecy?" Fuhren's ears snapped forward. "You're on a prophesised journey? Tell us the prophecy! Where are you going? What are you going to do?"

"It's none of your business," Willowclaw snapped, "we're 'stupid' Clan cats, remember? Our prophecy wouldn't make any sense to you."

The tribe seemed to gravitate towards the three Chosen arguing in the blood, murmuring amongst each other about the supposed 'prophecy'. Willowclaw sent Littleflame an angry look, not believing how stupid she could be. They'd agreed days ago to keep the prophecy a secret. It could bring unwanted attention, draw Crimson's eye to them. They needed her eye off of them for as long as possible.

"Of course it's my business. You're staying as guests in my tribe; I need to know anything that could make my tribe a target. A prophecy could. Now, start talking," Fuhren demanded coldly.

"Allowing us to stay in your tribe made you targets," Icepetal pointed out, "or should I say forcing us?"

Rainpatch cocked his head, "should've thought about that earlier, Fuhren."

The tribe leader seemed to swell up in size, a ferocious snarl erupting from his throat. His claws sunk into the bark beneath his paws, gouging long scars in the old wood. "You are still in my tribe, Clan cats. With one word I could have you join your dead friends. You'd be wise to remember that."

"Four days ago your tribe was being stalked by two monstrous creatures, which, if left alone, would have destroyed your tribe. Willowclaw saved you all, and this is how you repay him; by threatening him to divulge information that you aren't privileged too?" Eaglestrike met Fuhren's gaze unflinchingly.

"Please, don't fight," Blute pleaded. "We're only curious to know the real reason as to why you're all so far away from home."

Littleflame wrinkled her nose, "can't you understand that it's none of your business? You want to see your tribe bloom? Then stay out of our problems."

"As long as you're in my tribe your problems are our problems," Fuhren declared.

"We're leaving in the morning so they won't be your problems anymore," Willowclaw spat. "So lay off."

Eaglestrike nudged Felix's limp body with a forepaw, "besides, you've done enough damage for one day, Fuhren. Isn't the murder of two cats enough to satisfy you for today?"

"I suppose," Fuhren sniffed. "They did put up such a fight. It was very entertaining, wasn't it, tribe?"

The tribe shouted their agreement, pushing against each other to sing loud praises for their crazed leader. He grinned smugly, bathing in his glory.

"You used innocent lives for entertainment!?" Willowclaw roared, silencing the tribe.

Fuhren shrugged, "they weren't worth anything else. They had nothing of value. I couldn't be sure where their allegiances lay; they became a threat to my tribe. Do you understand where this is going, or do you need me to say it really slowly?"

"I am not stupid! But they weren't part of Crimson's army anymore! You would have known that if you'd just listened to them!" he cried.

"Willowclaw! How many times do I need to tell you? Leave it!" Eaglestrike swiped Willowclaw across the face, claws sheathed so no blood was drawn, but the blow was still solid enough to rattle Willowclaw's brain.

He was too shocked to retaliate, just stared dumbfounded at Eaglestrike, not believing what had just happened. The throbbing of his face hadn't lessened, just remained as a reminder of the blow he'd been given by one of his own.

A muzzle brushed against his: Icepetal's. She didn't say anything. "Is this what I get for speaking my mind?" Willowclaw said hoarsely. "Is this what being a team is all about? Just agreeing with the leader all the time?"

"He didn't mean it," Icepetal murmured. "He just got angry..that's all."

"What? And that makes it okay? Would it have been okay for me to have struck Rainpatch when he threw that squirrel at me earlier?" Willowclaw's voice grew louder. He drew away from Icepetal, pretending not to feel the stab of pain upon seeing her hurt expression.

Eaglestrike was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. "I-I-I...no. Willowclaw..wait!"

But Willowclaw wasn't about to wait, he was already shoving his way back through the crowd, heading towards the dip in the ground leading out of the tribe's camp and into the grassland. He had to get out, the camp was becoming suffocating. As he left he heard Littleflame's voice, "we can't do this alone! Wait! We need each other!"

The sun, pale and dim, was lazily sinking beneath the horizon casting long golden rays across the endless grasslands. A soft breeze rolled through the long blades of grass, tugging at Willowclaw's fur as if to pull him back towards the camp; he couldn't go back. He couldn't face them when they all thought so differently to him. They were a team, they were supposed to understand each other, to accept each other's opinions and take them into account. They weren't supposed to strike each other just because they didn't agree.

He sucked in a deep breath of the untainted tribe air – he found it to carry a tang of death. The reminder of what had happened in the camp stung harder than it should have. Why were the deaths of two ex-soldiers, cats who he hadn't known for much longer than five days, affecting him this much? They were unreliable, argumentative, a little shady, but they'd trusted him...something that apparently none of the others did anymore.

Mounting the crest of one of the larger hills in the tribe's territory he sat down, groaning at the ache in his legs. He felt like an old cat. The thought made him snort. Rainpatch was older than him and even he wasn't complaining about achy limbs yet, though the WaveClan tom had complained about everything else under the sun. It made him a little sad. Would Rainpatch have struck him if they'd been arguing?

The setting sun painted the horizon a pretty shade of orange, melting into the darkening sky to create a purplish sort of colour. Stars had begun to fleck the sky with white, shining bright despite the red tinge set off by the blood moon. It sat behind Willowclaw, perched just above Crimson's brooding mountain. He sighed, rolling his head until his neck cracked. The view was pretty despite the red, but it would have been prettier if the moon was white.

He felt lost. He felt like his team, the cats he'd travelled so far from home with, was falling apart at the seams. It was hard to admit he was homesick, but he was. The clean, fresh air of the grasslands was too sharp compared to the almost stuffy air of his home swamp. RogueClan's territory was beyond unique, hidden in the murky swamp of the valley. None of the other Clan's could dwell in the swamp; it took a certain kind of cat to grow used to seeing deep mud before stepping in it.

He missed his Clan, his adoptive family. Singe would be wondering where he'd gone. That tom was his brother in everything but blood. They'd remained so close growing up, even when Singe had found a mate.

To find himself suddenly missing Tornheart took him by surprise. He had never been particularly close to the she-cat, but he respected her enough to follow her. Betraying Crimson had taken guts, an act that had gotten her killed in the end. She would have known what to do. She would have been able to get them out and away from the tribe.

"Why did you have to die?" he murmured to the watching sky. "You knew we would need you. We aren't a team, we're a mess. Your guardians should have known how difficult gathering cats from different Clans would be. Do they really expect us to be able to do this?"

"Sounds like you have a lot on your mind." Blute sat down beside him, delicately tucking her tail over her paws. She didn't look at him but at the sky.

"And you don't?"

Blute sighed, "You make it sound like it was easy for me to watch them die. You forget that I know they helped you defeat Padshiy and Kateria."

"It certainly looked like you found it easy," Willowclaw jeered, shooting an accusing look at the tribe's heiress.

"I'm the future of my tribe, Willowclaw; I have to do what is right by them, even if it means killing those that don't deserve it. You don't know how hard it has been for the tribe these past moons. We never expected a monster to rise to power. We never expected to be hunted in our own territory. Our hope faded, our belief in our ancestors faded. The only thing we had left to believe in was ourselves," Blute's voice was full of sorrow. "I can't watch my tribe die; just like you can't watch your Clans die. That's why you've all travelled this far, isn't it? To secure the future of your Clans?"

Willowclaw tore his eyes from the sky to stare at the heiress, not even attempting to hide his surprise. The she-cat wasn't stupid, just misguided. "You're not wrong, but we're not just doing it for the Clans," he said slowly, "what we're doing is for the future of every cat. We aren't pretending that we aren't the cause of this problem. Crimson is our fault, more or less, and we're dealing with it."

"You're very brave, Willowclaw. To travel this far from home with cats you hardly know, it mustn't have been easy. But you all seem so close. If you hadn't of told us we would have assume you all came from the same Clan. I...I have a request."

"Out with it then."

The tortoiseshell gave him a soft, hesitant smile. "Stay here, in the tribe, with me. Father thinks the way you stand up for yourself if honourable. He wants to welcome you into the tribe...to become the next leader, alongside me...as...as my mate."

"Your mate?" He wouldn't say he wasn't flattered but that was the last thing he wanted. "Blute...I'm sorry but you know I can't stay. I have a fate far from this tribe. Besides you're my friend, nothing more. There isn't a single part of me that wants to stay in your tribe any longer than I need."

Blute hung her head. "It's that other she-cat isn't it? Icepetal? You love her."

"I-I wouldn't say that exactly," Willowclaw spluttered.

"Willowclaw," she looked him straight in the eye and he was shocked to see so much sadness reflecting in her sky-coloured eyes. "I'm so, so sorry."

He saw black moments later.

-000-

In his mind he remained, locked from his body by the darkness he'd slipped into. He was faintly impressed that Blute had managed to trick him, but only faintly; mostly he was just annoyed that he'd let another cat give him the slip. Singe would laugh if he ever found out, and then go tell the rest of the Clan. By sunhigh every cat would be taking light-hearted jabs at him for letting his guard down.

A pitch black landscape stretched out before him, darker than anything he'd ever seen before. It seemed to almost swell with a malevolent feeling that weighed down heavily on his shoulders. He wondered if his dream world had finally collapsed and what he was seeing would be all he would ever see when dreaming anymore. It was a fleeting thought, but he knew deep down that his dream world would always be there to greet him each night.

His paws itched to take a step further into the darkness, his mind told him of all sorts of dangers that could be waiting to snag a blind cat stumbling around. Waiting in one spot until he was able to wake up sounded much safer, so he tucked his feet under his body and waited.

"I knew it was you the moment I saw you in that camp."

The voice that addressed him from the darkness made his skin crawl, a cold shiver skittering up his spine as eyes the colour of blood blinked into existence. Floating above the ground they drew nearer, illuminating a little more of the pitch-black world with each step. "To think I truly believed what Theda and Lucius told me. They came crawling to me days after you vanished from your...home...apologising for not making you stronger; said you'd died under the claws of a Clan patrol," she sniffed dismissively. "Your parents paid for their lies once I laid eyes on you that day."

"Crimson," Willowclaw choked out.

She grinned, "Long time no see, my champion."

"Don't call me that," he growled. "I'm not your champion anymore, I don't belong to you."

A gust of chilling air buffeted him, nearly blowing him over. The strong scent of blood assaulted his sense of smell. At his paws appeared the corpses of his parents, bloody and mangled. It surprised him that his reaction was nothing more than a displeased snort. "Is this supposed to make me bow down to you once again?" he poked his father with a claw. "I hated them just as much as they hated me."

"It wasn't supposed to do anything. Don't you want to see your parents one last time? I doubt you'll get to see them after I've killed you," Crimson purred.

"This is all the result of a hard hit on the head; you can't do anything to me here. But you're more than welcome to try."

"Get away from him!" a hauntingly familiar voice screeched.

Crimson's head whipped around faster than Willowclaw's, a devious smile twisting her muzzle. "What a surprise. Shouldn't you be dead, betrayer?"

"I'm just a figment of his imagination unlike you. Do you ever ask before you invade someone's dreams?" she stepped into the dim light, long black fur void of any of her old scars, face not mangled by the torture she'd been put through. Warm green eyes blinked at him.

A harsh bark of laughter erupted from Crimson. "Where's the fun in that? I much prefer my presence to be completely unexpected."

"Enough of you. Go away. Don't you have another oath-taker to bury?" Tornheart turned her attention from Crimson despite the enraged expression appearing on the demon's face. The red-eyed she-cat's form wavered and vanished.

"You're alive?" Willowclaw breathed hopefully.

Tornheart shook her head, "no. I'm a figment of your imagination you unknowingly called upon when Crimson entered your dream world." She looked around the darkness with a sad smile, "is this what has become of your dreams, Ailas?"

"No one's called me that since I was a kit," he hissed, "please don't start now. My dreams have always been bleak."

"Not always. Once upon a time your dreams used to be filled with sunshine and bright blue skies, you used to dream of a beach where the clear waves rolled against pristine sand. Have you forgotten those dreams?"

Willowclaw stared at Tornheart, truly stared at her, trying to understand how she knew all this when she was only a figment of his imagination as she'd said. A memory flitted across his eyes, one of a sad-eyed she-cat taking him away from training to sit high up in the mountain, admiring the world they could see from up there. "You knew me as a kit."

"You were so lively until your training really started, had all these dreams and ambitions to venture beyond the mountain to see the world through your own eyes," Tornheart's voice was quiet. "Wake up, Willowclaw."

The dream world was beginning to fall apart around them. "Will I ever see you again?"

"No."

His eyes snapped open to see the smooth surface of the oak's roots. The ground beneath him was soft, moss and feathers warm with his body heat. A spot on the back of his head ached dully, throbbing in a steady rhythm. Fur brushed against his as the flanks of another cat rose and fell beside him. Expecting it to be Icepetal he rolled over to make a snarky comment, the comment dying in his throat upon seeing tortoiseshell fur.

"Get out!" he roared, nipping at Blute's shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

She squealed in shock, jolting awake. "What was that for?" she snapped, lapping at the spots of blood on her shoulder.

"Why are you sleeping beside me? Why did you hit me on the head!?"

"Because I told her to," Fuhren stepped into the den, broad shoulders barely fitting. "Only if you refused of course, which you must have. Such a shame, we really didn't want to do this, or at least, Blute didn't. Such a lovely dear you are, so much like your mother."

Willowclaw growled at Blute when she wriggled closer. "What are you two going on about? If I refused what!?"

"Our gracious offer to join the tribe as Blute's future mate. It would put you in a grand position of power being the leader's mate, not something I expected a cat like you to turn down," Fuhren explained flippantly.

"I didn't realise I looked like the kind of cat that was power hungry," Willowclaw grumbled, "but thank you for the lovely compliment. Can I go now?"

Fuhren flexed his claws, moving his body to block the exit. A warning growl thundered in his throat, fur along his spine rising aggressively. "You will go nowhere, Clanner. My tribe has thrived since your arrival and I plan on keeping it that way. I know your friends and you are travelling to challenge Crimson. Some of her soldiers get rather chatty after a night in a warm nest with a full belly."

"What are you planning?" Willowclaw rose slowly into an awkward crouch, fully awake now that he felt his life was at risk. "Where are the others? My friends, where are they!?"

"They're fine, safe, we haven't touched them. They aren't special like you. Please, stay," Blute begged.

He glared at her from the corner of his eye, "I am not staying."

"Of course you're not," Fuhren grinned. To Blute he said: "go and gather the tribe, I'll be out in a moment."

The tortoiseshell heiress sent Willowclaw one last, sorrowful look before brushing gently past her father, pausing only to murmur something near silently in his ear. Her tail flicked around the mouth of the den, and she was gone.

"Whatever you're doing it won't work," Willowclaw warned the gray-furred leader.

Fuhren shook his head and laughed. "Everything I do always works. That's why I'm a leader, and you are not. I couldn't help but notice how quickly that tom – the one with the ginger she-cat constantly hanging around him? – took back leadership of your ragtag group. Didn't that annoy you?"

"No. I'm not fit to be a leader, don't have the mind for it. Eaglestrike handles the responsibility much better than I ever could," he waved his tail dismissively.

Outside Blute summoned the tribe with a loud yowl. "Are you going to come peacefully or am I going to have to drag you out?" Fuhren inquired lazily.

"I don't plan on doing anything peacefully."

"Have it your way then."

His paws were swept out from under him when Fuhren slammed his shoulder into Willowclaw's chest, sending the tabby tom crashing to the ground with a stunned screech. Jolted into action Willowclaw kicked his hind-legs up into Fuhren's stomach, grinning at the sound of the air whooshing out of the tribe leader's lungs. Fuhren dove forward; jaws clacking shut a hairsbreadth away from Willowclaw's throat, pulling back with a mouthful of long fur. A claw caught the leader's cheek drawing a dribble of blood.

Fuhren locked Willowclaw's shoulders against the ground with two strong paws, pressing them painfully into the RogueClanner's chest. Hissing, Willowclaw scrabbled against the gray tom's hold, lashing out with sharp claws, but Fuhren didn't loosen his hold even a whisker.

"That was quick," the leader purred. He rolled Willowclaw over with a smooth flick of his paws, keeping him pinned firmly against the ground. His teeth sunk into Willowclaw's scruff and he snarled around it, "Shall we?"

"Go ahead," Willowclaw spat back.

The tribe leader, much stronger than Willowclaw had expected, hauled him out of the den without so much of a grunt. Apparently he didn't weigh much more than a squirrel. Fat, he rolled his eyes, Icepetal wouldn't know fat if it sat on her head.

A gasp went up from the assembled tribe, mostly excited sounding gasps with a few horrified ones mixed in. He suspected he didn't look all that good what with sleep ruffled fur, blood and mud dried in. Fuhren tossed him ungracefully onto the ground in front of his speaking root which Blute was currently resting on.

"What are you doing with him!?" Rainpatch's outraged meow rose over the din of the tribe.

Littleflame' voice sounded next, "we need to leave! Give him back!"

"Oh, you'll get him back." Fuhren now sat on his speaking root having shoved Blute down to a lower one. "After you've killed Crimson."

The camp went quiet. Willowclaw struggled to rise to his paws but three elites shoved him back down into the mud, pressing his muzzle into the mucky stuff. He blew air out if his nose, stirring a mess of bubbles.

Paws thumped against the ground as the other Chosen pushed their way to the front of the tribe, hissing and spitting at any that attempted to stop them. Eaglestrike stared up at Fuhren, "what do you mean after we've killed Crimson? We aren't going to kill her."

"Don't play dumb with me, Clanner. Plenty of soldiers have passed through my territory in search of you lot. They've told me exactly what to be on the lookout for. Such a shame you lot fit the image they gave me," Fuhren smiled widely. It was clear he thought he'd won.

"What if we are going to kill Crimson? It's got nothing to do with you unless you're planning on lending us some of your cats, which I really doubt," Icepetal seethed, sinking her claws deep into the mud.

Fuhren sighed. "My tribe is in between Crimson and your Clans. She's already threatened us with destruction if we don't submit to her. We don't want to do that, and we don't plan on. If you lot really are going to kill her then we'd be free. You seem like a close team, all of you; Willowclaw's mad dash to wake you all up and late night vigils watching over his she-cat made his feelings towards all of you very clear. I'll admit that my plan weighs heavily on your relationships with each other."

"You can have him back after you've gone to Crimson's mountain and killed her. If you truly care for each other then you will return after you've kill her. If not...well if not Willowclaw will grow old and die with us, perhaps he might even take me up on my previous offer," Fuhren's smirk was directed at the tom in question.

"And if we say no right now? Tell you that we aren't going to kill her?" Eaglestrike questioned.

Willowclaw eyed the PhoenixClanner with concern. What was he going on about? Of course they were going to kill Crimson! That's why they'd travelled so far from home in the first place!

"You get to watch my elites tear his throat out before I command my tribe to do the same to all of you. Your bodies will be dumped just outside the border for Crimson's soldiers to find eventually, if foxes and crows haven't picked your bones clean by then," Fuhren answered smoothly.

Icepetal released an enraged shriek, throwing herself at the elites holding Willowclaw down. They rose up on their hindpaws to bat her away, not truly expecting the strength hiding in the pretty she-cat. She caught one of the elites – fur a dusky brown – in the throat, splashing to the mud with his throat still caught in her claws. The two tussled together violently for a few moments before Icepetal ripped her claws down the tom's spine, shredding flesh and sending blood pouring down his sides.

With a signal from Fuhren two more elites pounced on Icepetal, struggling with the screeching she-cat to bring her down. Fur and skin fell away under her powerful strikes, blood splashing against her white fur. In a flurry of awkward movements the two elites snagged Icepetal's hind-legs in their jaws and pulled, yanking her off balance and plunging her into the mud in front of Willowclaw.

He jerked his head out from under an elite's paws to stare at the she-cat with eyes that pleaded with her to stop fighting. There were no words to describe how he would feel to watch her die before him because of his stupid decision to fight against Fuhren's demands. She stared back with her usually frosty gaze, but mixed within was a sort of softness that left him breathless. Did he really deserve this she-cat's attentions?

Oblivious to Eaglestrike's hurried arguments he only stared at her, wanting to drink in what might just be the last moment he could see her. Fuhren had called her his she-cat. Had she stood there and silently agreed with the leader's comment? Did she think of herself as his she-cat? If she left like Fuhren wanted, would she return to him after all was over and done?

Like she could read his mind she stretched her neck as far as she could, just managing to touch her nose with his.

"Will you keep him safe if we leave him here?" Rainpatch demanded.

"Of course," Blute promised. "He's saved our tribe, we'd never hurt him. If you come back he will be here, we promise."

Littleflame cleared her throat, "how can we trust you?"

"The same way we trust you to kill Crimson and come back," Blute replied. "It's far easier for you to walk away from here without even looking back than it will be for us to kill him."

"You certainly found it easy to kill Felix and Sadie," Littleflame reminded.

Fuhren glared down at the she-cat and she shied away from him. "Is he a soldier of Crimson?"

"No!" Eaglestrike exclaimed.

"Then he will be safe."

The three Chosen not pinned down stared at Willowclaw with anguished expressions. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be for them to decide whether they would leave him behind or not. If he could speak he'd tell them to. He wasn't worth dying over, and, now he realised, that he'd done his part.

He could almost feel Tornheart standing beside him, smiling as one of her Chosen finally realised his part all along. He'd done all he could, taken down two ancestors, kept his team alive, all with the power Crimson had beaten into him as a kit. Once upon a time he had fought for Crimson. Now he fought against her.

"We will go," Eaglestrike's voice was strained.

Icepetal's shout of protest was muffled. She threw back her head to gulp in a mouthful of fresh air, tossing murderous glares at the tribe cats. "Why aren't you fighting back?" her voice was hoarse as she murmured to Willowclaw.

"You'd die if I did," he admitted. "It's not worth it."

She fell silent and he felt a strange panic rising up. "Say something. Anything. Lie to me. Just...don't leave without saying a word, please?"

Her beautiful blue eyes were pained when she looked up. "I love you."

A part of him knew she was lying. His Icepetal would never fall in love; she was far, far too strong for that. But the sentimental value behind those three little words was enough to ensure he would miss her for all the time she would be away from him.

So he lied back. "I love you too."

an: oops c: