It was snowing.
Flakes danced above their heads and collected in their fur, while eyes glinted in the darkness. The thick cloud prevented the night from growing dangerously cold, but it was harsh enough that only adult cats stood in the clearing, their breath steaming and their ears flat against their heads. Tension hummed between them, and most cats kept a small distance from their neighbors. Two stood close together, a tom and a she-cat, their pelts fluffed out against the cold.
A rustling broke the silence, and as one they all jerked their heads up. Three toms of forbidding aspect pushed through the snow-laden brush. They dwarfed the cold-starved cats that had waited for them, each sleek and powerfully muscled. Their eyes were utterly expressionless and their tails remained still, as though they were more stone made flesh than living cat. As they passed into the center of the clearing, the other cats drew away, fur bristling in silent fear.
"The Messor has spoken," said one of the toms in a deep, almost-purr. "A name has been called."
An almost inaudible sigh rang out from the gathered cats, and one stepped forwards. In better times, she would be large and powerful herself, easily a match for one of the toms. Now she was little more than a skeleton with fur stretched over her bones and there was no trace of defiance in her mew as she replied, in the cadence of a ritual:
"We hear the word of the Messor and obey. Who among us has been named?"
Another tom straightened up, and he paused as if to savor the miasma of terror in the clearing.
"Watercress," he said at last, and again there was a gentle, sad noise that might have even been just the wind.
The two cats that had been standing close together drew apart, and the she-cat's eyes glittered with grief as she licked the tom's head. "Look after yourself, Charlock," she mewed affectionately. "And keep an eye on Mother."
"No," the tom replied stubbornly. "I won't let you go alone. There must be something...some way..." He looked desperately at the three big cats, who calmly met his gaze in return.
"You know you can't come," Watercress said gently, stroking his flank with her tail. "But keep to the faith. We don't know...it might not be so bad..."
Charlock shook his head wildly and stared unseeing into the shadows of the forest, a wail building up in his throat. The three toms surrounded Watercress and began to push her out of the clearing, keeping half an eye on the young cat being left behind.
"I love you. No matter what happens, I'll always love you," Watercress called over her shoulder to her brother, who thrashed his tail and hunched over himself in pure misery. And on a night so dark and still that even the wolves were silent while the clouded moon howled, the she-cat and her entourage disappeared into the trees, and every cat left behind knew that they would never see her again.
Hollyleaf stirred, her eyes sticky with sleep. The air was still biting, the leaves around her frosted, but she staggered to weary paws in any case. Pushing her way through the branches, she stepped into pale sunlight in a crisp blue sky. Even the wind had ceased to snarl. She flexed her claws into the snow, remembering that on other such days she would have leaped out of the warriors' den, eager to make the most of a day that promised good leaf-bare hunting. With a snort, she kicked snow over her sleeping place to cover her scent and crouched back in the shadows. The holly bushes were bright red with berries, and would be a rare food source for hungry birds. She did not have to wait very long before a thrush darted into the bush to stab at a berry. Hollyleaf leaped and killed the bird swiftly, hissing as the sharp edges of the leaves jabbed through her sides.
Once she had finished gulping down the thrush, she cast about again for Sol's scent. It was very faint, but the fact that it was there at all during this weather meant that he couldn't be more than a day or so away at best. Hollyleaf glanced at the sun. She had lost track of time in the tunnels and after the blow to her head, but she thought it was perhaps a day and a night after she'd fled the Clans. She had to get moving, then; that was ample opportunity for a patrol to pick up her trail and track her down. Her nose to the ground, she followed the slight scraps of scent, every now and again glancing behind her at the home she was leaving far behind. Don't think about that. It's not your home. It never was your home. It was the Clans' home, and you were never a Clan cat.
She padded after Sol's faint trail. In her heart of hearts, she knew that tracking him down was nothing more than a distraction: she and her siblings had already learnt to their cost that Sol knew little of use to them. But she wanted to put off the moment where she would have to decide how to live a Clanless life, and so she resolutely tracked him across the barren lands. It was difficult, as the wind and snow had blown away most of his traces, but Hollyleaf had been taught to hunt in a forest flooded with odors and the clear air of the moor made any scent stand out like a flash of blood. Here and there she would come across other signs of his passing, like a strand of hair or-her nose would wrinkle at this-places where he'd buried his dirt. Alone, and with no need to dwell on her dark thoughts, Hollyleaf even began to enjoy herself. It had been too long since she'd last performed a task with nothing else in mind but the task itself. Then she remembered the last time she'd tracked a cat like this, and the salty taste of his blood forced her to stop and close her eyes for several heartbeats, breathing deeply, before she felt strong enough to continue.
A day and a night passed. Hollyleaf ate nothing but a skinny rabbit unwise enough to blunder past her, unwilling to leave her trail and look further afield for prey. She slept only when she was too weary to walk onwards. Her pelt, once so thick and soft, was beginning to clump and hung loosely around her visible ribs. Her one consolation was that Sol's scent was getting stronger. She could imagine the rogue moving on at a leisurely pace, tail high, already searching for a new place to cause trouble. The fur on the back of her neck bristled as she remembered how he'd tried to turn ShadowClan away from the light of StarClan, and not for the first time wondered if it was information or vengeance she was seeking from the loner.
At sunhigh the next day his traces abruptly vanished, and Hollyleaf drew to a halt, lashing her tail in frustration. Had he worked out he was being followed? The moor wasn't flat enough for her to be spotted from far away, but a wind change might have brought her scent towards him if he'd been paying attention. So determinedly did she cast about for the slightest scrap of his trail she nearly leaped out of her fur when her quarry spoke behind her.
"Looking for me again, Hollyleaf? Is ThunderClan truly so desperate for my company?"
Slowly, not bothering to hide her hostility, she turned to meet his yellow gaze. As always, her breath caught at the endless depths to his eyes, try as she might to avoid staring at them. Despite the cold and the snow, his pelt was as clean and smooth as a kittypet's. A small smile played on his mouth, as though he knew very well that it was not on ThunderClan's orders that she'd sought him out.
"ThunderClan wants nothing to do with you. Firestar has announced your exile. If you return to the lake, you'll be torn to pieces." The last bit was nothing Firestar had said or would probably ever say, but she wanted to try and frighten him. If anything, her threat seemed to amuse him further, and he beckoned to her with his tail.
"Come. This is a poor place for discussion, and you appear to be in need of a meal." As Hollyleaf stood her ground, lips curling into a snarl, Sol tipped his head sideways.
"Have you come to kill me, Hollyleaf? You know I did not murder Ashfur."
For a moment she considered it. There was nothing in his smooth pelt and scar-free face that even hinted he could fight. His weapons were enigma and magnetism, powerful in their own right, but nothing in the face of tooth and claw. Perhaps this thought showed in her eyes, because for the first time Sol seemed to grow slightly tense, as though preparing to flee. Inside, Hollyleaf was torn. She wanted to kill him, wanted to sink her claws into his fur and tear his eerie composure to shreds, hear his screams, to make him become nothing more than an ordinary cat. That seemed like the only acceptable punishment for what he'd tried to do to the Clans and the warrior code.
"I could," she breathed, looking fiercely into his eyes, refusing to let him charm her. "Perhaps some would even say I should."
But...no, she wasn't being honest. She didn't want to kill him because he attempted to turn the Clans from StarClan and the code. She wanted to hurt him because he'd betrayed her, and her brothers. He'd promised them the power of the stars, but all he'd ever cared about was power of his own. Somehow, in her mind, it all spiraled back to him: if not for Sol and his promises, things would have turned out differently, and she wouldn't be standing here now, claws scratching at the snow and considering the possibility of another murder.
But if she killed him, she'd be alone. If she killed him, there'd be no going back. Ashfur had been bad enough, but she'd slaughtered him to protect her brothers and her Clan. This...there was nothing except vengeance in this. Are you worth my soul? Am I the kind of cat who kills because she can't see any other way out? And again Ashfur's face swam in her mind. We are the choices that we make.
"I never meant any harm to you, Hollyleaf," Sol mewed, with a hint of urgency. "Nor to your brothers. I want to destroy the Clans because it's not a way for cats to live. Dogs live in packs, or Twolegs. A cat's greatest glory is his independence. Or hers. What need does a cat like you have of a leader? Why should the spirits of the dead dictate to the living?" He stepped closer to her, so she could practically taste his strangely sweet scent. "You believe the worst of me, Hollyleaf, and perhaps you have reason for that, but I can assure you...I'm not the monster you think I am. I make mistakes, yes. I was wrong to try and bring down your Clans through force, and I was wrong to try and use you and your siblings, but..." He lifted his muzzle to hers, so that they were almost touching. "Do you think I deserve to die for that?"
"That's not my judgement to make," Hollyleaf said at last, surprised by the steadiness of her voice. "You're the one who has to live with your decisions." She stepped back and shook herself. "I won't kill you, but..."
"Yes?" Sol looked at her enquiringly.
"Do you know anything?" She couldn't keep out a trace of scorn. "Or was all that you told us about destiny just thistledown to trick us?"
"I know some things," he replied, his calm demeanor returning. "Not everything. But as I said before, I do know a place where you can eat, and rest in the warmth. After that, I will tell you everything you want to know. Perhaps even some things you don't want to know."
Hollyleaf hesitated briefly, and glanced behind her.
"Of course," Sol added, "you may wish to return to ThunderClan..." She whirled on him, teeth bared, and he took a step back from her anger.
"No? Then come along. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we eat." He set off, padding through the snow, not looking back once to see if she was following. His sudden assumption of control infuriated her, and for a moment she was fully prepared to stalk off in another direction. Before she could storm away, her belly growled, and she thought wistfully of plump mice and a warm nest.
If he can give me either of those things, Hollyleaf decided, it will be worth his company, at least for a little while. With a sigh, she set off to follow him.