Chapter 16

The mighty, withering wail, scream through the night with whitened eyes.

"I had a dream. I was alone, far above the ground, above the trees, sitting in the sky. The wind blew right through me. It was night in the forest, but it was blue as sunken eyes where I was. I knew I wasn't where I was supposed to be. There was something screaming, somewhere in the distance, and though I could see forever in every direction, I couldn't find the noisemaker. I felt helpless. Utterly helpless. And then I woke up,"

He was still asleep.

He was still dreaming.

Who had told him that?

Did he say it himself?

Did it matter?

She was here now.

The black and white she-cat who plagued his thoughts had appeared to him once again, dressed in rain and draped over the eye with a bit of moss.

Her legs were all cut up, cross patterns up and down them all, blood washing away with the rain, and yet she stood without crutch, her showing yellow eye burning like fire, "What am I? Who are you?" His voice was hypnotized by her presence,

"I dream through her blue sky," was all that she responded with. There was something beyond where they were, but now, he could only see the rain, the washaway, and her,

"I do too, don't I?" She nodded, only slightly,

"Where are you?" He knew what answer she would give.

The unburnt tree, the black void within it,

"Who is the dreamer?"

Loneheart awoke in a panic.

The wind threatened every angle his ears could hear.

The trees loomed above with only roots to hold them down.

The day was only just beginning again, the moon high above, perfectly perched over the clouds to bear witness to who it shined upon.

The she-cat was still in his vision, though she was far from being there, "What's frightened you?" Red ripped her tail across Loneheart's back,

"I had a dream," His gaze turned to meet hers, the light of the moon illuminating only enough of her face to see her blind eye and nothing else.

When she didn't respond, he told her what his mind demanded him to speak,

"I was alone, far above the ground, above the trees, sitting in the sky. The wind blew right through me. It was night in the forest, but it was blue as sunken eyes where I was. I knew I wasn't where I was supposed to be. There was something screaming, somewhere in the distance, and though I could see forever in every direction, I couldn't find the noisemaker. I felt helpless. Utterly helpless. And then I woke up,"

Her glazed eye distorted with each word, creasing and folding in on itself.

This wasn't what his dream had been.

He could remember his dream perfectly, but these were the only words which escaped his mouth,

"That is not your dream," Red's voice was threatening, and with a single pace forward, Loneheart felt his body drop to the ground, hitting the hard forest floor with a thud.

And suddenly, he wasn't there anymore.

But she was.

The black and white she-cat of his dreams stood now in the spot where Loneheart's body had rested away.

He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel, couldn't speak.

For a moment it seemed he simply didn't exist,

"Are you Whisperingwind? Or are you nothing?" He thought, all he had left, but he received no answer.

She remained as still as death, and escaping from her mouth as she opened it, red smoke, like blood in the air.

It rose and spread through the sky like a droplet in a pool of water.

She closed her mouth then.

He could see now, only the smoke as if it were he and he were it.

He floated towards the moon, that which he feared like very little else, and yet now, as he grew closer and closer to its glow, he began to feel comfortable.

The she-cat was no longer there, vanished just as soon as she had appeared.

He was alone now, even the smoke had cleared.

All there was left was him and the moon.

There was a kind of grief which he began to feel, like he had lost something which he had never known he had had, and never knew he could live without.

Loneheart awoke once more, now finally in his usual reality.

He could remember his first dream perfectly, but after that, he could only remember hurtling to the moon, soft and sweet through the night.

The day was still dark, the moon just grasping the tops of the leafless trees.

There was an inexplicable sadness in the air, like finally understanding that death will come.

There was no pain in this moment, no fear, just a deep melancholy that circled the air such like birds of prey drifting along, searching endlessly through the clouds.

The tears of the sky were dripping, just one, and then another, so that Loneheart couldn't tell if the rain was just starting, or if it were almost over.

He felt choked by the dark, and cold as the river that ran through the land.

Red was still behind him, seemingly asleep, as Loneheart watched through the trees for bands of marching spirits, or bits of bark blown off by the wind that tumbled to the ground where the ants rode across them as if they were mountains.

He turned his head back when a sound in the distance caught his eyes unprepared.

Some creature rushing through snow way back out of sight, too small to be a threat to much but the leaves and nuts.

Red's good eye was open now, pressed against the forest floor, watching Loneheart as he did her.

For just a moment he was straddled by a memory, one which he wished could be pushed into the dark nighttime woods to be lost and forgotten.

He recalled the scene of a tall structure, a yellow light protruding from a room near the top, glowing like the giants in the sky tend to when the clouds give them way.

And just as light becomes, so must dark, and a sudden flash of black filled his memory as his eyes had been forcibly closed by a blow to the back of the head.

Of course, it had been Red who struck him, and yet he had never found himself coming of hatred for the she-cat, still such a stranger to him.

She began to stand up, whether in memory or in now uncertain, the numerous cuts on her legs pulsing as blood rushed to her paws, "Doesn't it feel like the night?"

She asked in humor, though not truly as a question to be answered.

Loneheart responded with an ask of his own; he did not care about her thoughts on manners anymore,

"What is it that you want? Why do you still stick to this forest? Are you stuck? Or is it just that you want to view my suffering as much as I must?" Red spoke, her blind eye still closed to the unseen sights which it saw,

"It's impossible not to be anywhere, at least not now, and so this is the place where I've chosen to be. There's nothing more simply than that. This is where I wait now,"

"But for what? Why do you wait? Is there anything to wait for?"

"There surely is, though if I'll see that day, no creature living or otherwise could say. I did not see the beginning, and so now I wait for the end, when the ground cracks and shatters just as life itself will; when the stars crumble into the sky and the sky is burned away by the sight of the sun collided with the moon. The roots of each life to be unturned, and for all that is natural to be anything but. The New Genesis. The ending of the now and beginning of another. That is what I wait for,"

"How long will you wait?"

"Until my story is over," Staring stoic into the edges of the night, Red looked mystified by the sights surrounding her, "You must see now. You must understand why it doesn't matter. You've lived this life of the surreal fantasy of pain, you must see as I do now, see why I am who I am, can't you?" Loneheart dreaded the thought that he was anything like Red,

"No," He spoke boldly. Red didn't respond, instead moving just a step forward, her open eye still locked on some visage between the trees,

"Look," She said, pushing his head with her tail to meet the same sights as her, "The spirits of the night, the haunted dead. They follow where I lead," Though there was nothing there that Loneheart could see, he felt uneasy by the blank sight of the dark forest in front of him,

"They'll haunt you for what you did to them,"

"I welcome it," Red smirked, "What are they but memories?"

"Memories hurt more than anything," Loneheart whispered. Red didn't respond. She tore her gaze away, seemingly bothered by what Loneheart had said,

"There are no spirits," Red sighed, "Only memories,"

"When will this war end?" Loneheart asked rhetorically. He knew there was no answer that could be given to satisfy him, and he no longer looked to Red as someone with answers to all that he could think of. Still she answered, as she always did, sly and cryptic,

"When somebody discovers meaning," That was to say, as Loneheart interpreted it, the war would never end, "You want to make it stop, don't you?" He nodded, wishing to prove her theory wrong as quick as possible, "Well, though I won't help you anymore than I can in these quiet moments, there are things which I could show you, things which might give you some perspective,"

It was a strange offering, feeling vaguely dangerous, but Loneheart still nodded his head, more hesitantly this time, wanting to know what could be done on his part to establish some sort of peace in the forest, "Come here," Red commanded.

Suddenly she swiped her paw at him, slashing across a part of his scar on his neck and chest.

Loneheart tripped to the ground with shock and Red lowered herself to his level, saying, "Focus on the pain. Feel the blood drip out of you. Don't distract yourself with memories, thoughts, any feelings other than pain,"

She stuck one of her claws into the open wound and twisted her paw.

Loneheart yelped in pain and Red dug deeper, causing him to scream.

He pulled away a few fox-tail lengths and huddled on the ground, afraid and hurt.

Red looked on with sour disappointment.

With a paw to his neck to try to stop the bleeding, Loneheart winced and gasped for air before standing up to leave.

He couldn't deal with anymore of this tonight.

The pain made him stumble on the ground.

He could still feel her claw in his throat, "There's so much more to be felt, my son,"

"I don't care!" Loneheart yelled at Red as she opened her blind eye for the first time that night.

It was hazy and bright as the moon.

In distress, Loneheart began bounding off, leaving a small trail of blood behind him as the pain began to overwhelm his body, adrenaline forcing him to run without stop through the forest, even as he grazed tree trunks as he whisked by.

Red didn't follow him, even when it would be so easy to do so.

He knew that he should never have agreed to whatever she was suggesting, he knew who she was, and yet time and time again she had him wrapped around her paw, and still it always felt like it was his fault.

Loneheart tripped on a stone on the ground, sending a bolt of pain through his body, though not nearly as bad as the one in his neck.

He remained there, unsure of anything now, so close to camp and yet unable to move himself to get there, "Hey," Yarrowleaf's soft voice came out of the shadows and entered into Loneheart's ears,

"Hi," He whispered back in a lot of pain, psychically and otherwise,

"You're bleeding," Yarrowleaf observed.

Loneheart didn't respond.

His eyes were closed now, not wanting to see her face, "Are you going to be, okay?" She asked awkwardly,

"Yeah,"

"Should I go get Berryflight?" Loneheart knew she didn't want to stick around for long, and he knew he would need some medical help, so he just replied with, "Sure,"

"Okay, I'll be right back, don't fall asleep," She seemed concerned, but to Loneheart's ears it was all just a ploy to get away from him.

He opened his eyes to watch her go, and the sight of it hurt him more than his wound did.

His throat rested on his leg to halt the bleeding a bit.

It wasn't like this was going to kill him or anything, which he thought was probably the reason why Yarrowleaf felt that she could leave him alone.

He was just afraid that Red was going to show up again.

But more than that he just felt sad watching Yarrowleaf go.

She had used to be his friend, his best friend next to Rustheart, and one of the only cats in the clan that didn't shrink away and glare at the sight of him.

Now she was gone, and though she seemed to try to communicate at times, Loneheart just kept seeming to push her further and further away.

He had never been there for her like she had for him, and now it had caught up to him.

As he lay across the cold grass, warm blood spilling from his open scar, he felt like crying.

His eyes started to grow hazy, but nothing escaped from them.

No matter how much he focused on the pain, no matter how much he thought of all he lost, he couldn't shed a tear.

He simply wasn't allowed to have the relief of such a thing.

Perhaps he hadn't earned it yet.

Perhaps he was fated to live in ever-growing tension until someday when it all explodes.

The forest was quiet now so that he could hear his blood running through the grass, mixing with dew and dirt.

He knew that Yarrowleaf wouldn't come back.

Berryflight would be there eventually, but by that time Yarrowleaf would be off by the borders, as far away as possible.

Loneheart gave up for the night and disregarded her warnings to not fall asleep, understanding the risk but being in too much pain to remain conscious now.

Just as his body was slumping down and his mind was going blank, he thought he could hear paw steps in the distance coming closer, and then disappear like a rock in rushing water.

After two days, throat now plastered with herbs, Loneheart had found himself discharged from the Medicine Cat Den.

While he had been stuck in camp the day before, he noticed several cats being sent into Barkstar's den, including Yellowsky, Scornheart, and Berryflight.

After the defeats that Thunderclan had suffered in its own camp, he figured Barkstar must be planning to strike back.

Now, returning from a hunt with a small vole, he noticed much of the clan circled around the clearing, Barkstar right at the center.

Out of all the cats, Loneheart only noticed that the elders, the Medicine Cats, Cranepaw, Yarrowleaf, and Stonefoot weren't there, "When will this be?" was the first thing that he could hear from the group, coming from Snowflight.

Barkstar answered the black tom, "At the next black night when the moon is hidden away under the clouds, if Starclan permits it,"

"Won't that be both when they are expecting us to attack, and also the time that they fight the best at?"

"And so we will take the battle to the heart of the woods, our sanctuary for victory. It will be the runners' jobs to get in and out of their camp as fast as possible. Firepelt and Yellowsky will carry the onerous task, though it shall bring them great honor amongst Starclan's ranks,"

"How long do we have to stay in there?" Asked Firepelt. Loneheart placed his vole on the fresh-kill pile and listened from a distance, fear rising slowly through his body as Barkstar kept speaking,

"Only long enough until you hear a war cry, then you must run straight out. You mustn't run so fast that they will get discouraged to continue the chase, however. You must keep two or three of them near until they fall into us. If we pray on enough Shadowclanners leaving with the unavailing goal to catch you, then everything should go perfectly as planned,"

Though most cats were silent now, they all seemed placed with anxiety or excitement, perhaps both,

"Scornheart will fill you in on the rest of the plan while I must have my runners come to my den to discuss further their role in our triumph,"

Loneheart found it strange that Barkstar left it up to a warrior rather than his deputy, who also followed the leader into the den, leaving only warriors in the clearing now,

"Alright," Scornheart began, "Once the runners have assimilated back into the ambush, the first battalion will encircle the Shadowclanners who have strayed into us. That will be most of you,"

Scornheart obviously had less confidence speaking than Barkstar, and his own anxiety seemed to trigger it in a couple of other cats, though his eyes remained fraught with hate towards the clan which had added new scars to most of the cats listening, "You will circle around them and beat them down, but you must not allow them to break the lines, else they may be able to make it back with dangerous information. Their screams should attract many more Shadowclanners out of camp, which is when the second battalion, which will be me, Dewstorm, and Thunderclaw, will sneak into their Medicine Cat Den to destroy their supplies,"

A few concerned murmurs cropped up around the circle.

Loneheart felt his whole stomach drop at the idea,

"Is that allowed?" Asked Dewstorm, though he didn't seem to be heard,

"Surely that goes against the war code?" Spoke Firepelt.

Scornheart waited until the chatter had ceased before reassuring his clanmates,

"The code states that the Medicine Cat cannot be harmed, but otherwise makes no mention of such a thing,"

Some cats seemed relieved solely by the fact that this wasn't technically against the code.

Scornheart moved along swiftly, seemingly not wanting to stick on the topic for too long, "After we accomplish our goal, the second battalion will charge out of camp to where most of the Shadowclanners will be rushing to engage with the first battalion. This will have them surrounded and we will give them a swift beating before more cats come in. Then every cat is required to cross back over the border. Don't get separated from the group,"

He said with gusto, "If a cat gets left behind, we cannot jeopardize more cats to try to save them if they get lost too far back. Does anybody have any questions?"

The crowd remained silent, "Well, if you come up with anything, talk to me or Barkstar about it," Though it seemed like a perfect cue, nobody disbanded immediately.

Everybody seemed a little more tense than usual.

Loneheart thought it was the proposal of destroying herbs that had them all anxious.

It seemed like an affront to Starclan to do such a thing.

Loneheart was afraid of the whole thing.

He didn't know if it would be better or worse if he got picked to go.

The day escaped fast and gave way to the moonlit glaze that the night provided to the treetops.

The crowd had disbanded a few minutes after the plans were settled, devolving into gossip and worry.

Some cats were excited for the event, most thought that Shadowclan was getting what they deserved, and Yarrowleaf had left camp once she heard the news and hadn't returned since.

Loneheart had caught the role of guarding the camp alone, and it was quite the night for it too.

The wind chilled through his fur and a few flakes of snow had started falling to the ground.

The gathering was only in one day now.

He was excited to see Rustheart but in all honesty, he really didn't want to go.

He didn't want to see any more bickering, though he supposed it was a lot better than the alternative.

There was a small snickering behind him from inside the camp, like someone trying not to wake anybody else up.

Out burst Dewstorm and Yellowsky, both in quite good moods, "Hi Loneheart," Dewstorm greeted, half speaking, half whispering, seemingly too joyous in the moment to carry the same awkwardness which he had always had in his voice when speaking to him.

Loneheart appreciated, and even smiled a bit at Dewstorm saying his name.

It was a small thing, but rarely did any cats use his name when speaking to him, "We're going out for a midnight walk," Dewstorm informed him.

Loneheart nodded, not sure how else to respond.

Yellowsky was huddled up to Dewstorm, good-naturedly pushing him out of the way while he was talking.

Loneheart locked eyes with the fellow green-eyed tom and Yellowsky looked down a bit.

Dewstorm started moving along, but Yellowsky caught up and whispered to him, though they were too close to keep the words away from Loneheart's ears, "You go on, I'll be there in a few moments,"

"Alright," Dewstorm agreed, seemingly understanding the situation, as his demeanor changed a bit, and he looked back at Loneheart one last time before heading off to climb the ravine.

Yellowsky watched him leave as he moved to sit beside Loneheart like he had done before when he was guarding the camp.

For a few seconds there was only the tumbling of small rocks as Dewstorm reached the top of the ravine and disappeared from sound into the forest.

Yellowsky waited another moment before speaking.

His voice seemed enlightened, and his voice was steady, almost the opposite of his attitude just a minute ago, "Sometimes I'm able to forget just how bad everything can get. At times I can just sit in the open sun or the dead of night and just, feel alright. You don't feel like that, do you? You're always tense,"

Loneheart lowered his head a bit, almost trying to nod but not completely going through with it.

Yellowsky looked off into the darkness above, not prodding him any further on the topic.

Loneheart looked to the opposite, watching small bits of dirt and dust be swept away by the wind.

He dug a claw into the cold earth and felt the dirt fall off and shatter on the ground.

The days were short, and they were only getting shorter,

"Have you ever loved anybody, Loneheart?" Yellowsky broke his silence with another question that Loneheart didn't know if he could answer.

He opened his mouth and tried to force out a response, but his mind couldn't find a single word to speak.

He ducked back down and swallowed back a breath, "I-I don't know," he finally got, shutting his eyes forcefully as he anticipated a reaction from Yellowsky.

He expected something negative, but he wasn't completely sure what, but instead, the yellow tom said,

"I always thought that love was something that had to be earned, or gained, that some just deserved love and others didn't, and, I let that determine how I treated both myself and everyone around. I don't believe in that anymore. I try to treat everyone just a little bit better now, and I'm getting better at it each day," The carefully picked words stuck in Loneheart's chest, and he asked,

"Why are you so wise?" He was confused how a cat as young as he was could talk as though he had lived for many seasons,

"I'm not wise, just hopeful," Yellowsky responded, and then a bit quieter to himself he whispered, "A hopeful fool," Loneheart didn't say anything, and after a moment, Yellowsky sat up and walked forward a step, "I'd better go now,"

"Bye," was all that Loneheart could get out, and he wasn't even sure if it was loud enough to be heard.

Yellowsky turned back a moment and asked one last question,

"Do you want to come with us?"

"No, no thanks,"

Until I write again,

-Gojira