Look, this chapter came a billion times faster then the last! Personally I also think it's better as we begin to chip at the tip of the plot. Other then that, I have nothing to say! So, to the reviews!

Glowingsoul: I resisted damaging my head just for you! -shows undamaged head- And sorry about being so hard on my writing. I'm not trying to get attention, I promise. I just happen to have some perfectionist issues ... really annoying issues that need fixing. So I'll stop complaining about my story if it makes you happy! Though, I wouldn't exactly called it perfect ... o3o

SilverWolf716: Yep, that was the idea! I find it easier to start my stories like that.

ZomTatoZom: ... You're comment ... it's huge. -facepalm- Er, so ignoring the obesity of your review, I find it strange the my story makes you want to drink a chocolate beverage. I should have like, a side effect warning at the beginning or something. "Warning, reading this may give you the urge to eat chocolate!" Unless of course that's just you. Yeah, it's just you. o-o

C H A P T E R 2

"Dreams of the Past"

Sparkling a brilliant blue beneath the cloudless sky, the lake lapped calmly at the shore, reaching out over the smooth pebbles to tap at Sootpaw's large dark paws. Blinking, the tom lifted his head, amber eyes glimmering as he stared out across the vast body of water to the trees on the ThunderClan side, his view blocked only by the two-legs floating about in their water monsters. As usual they made a fair amount of noise and at first Sparrowpaw had expressed his worry of the loud creatures. Mintfur however easily dismissed his anxiety, assuring the younger cat that the two-legs typically stayed towards the middle of the lake and the half-bridge area.

Now, shuffling like impatient ducklings, the two young toms awaited their mentors instruction. They'd been swimming in the stream many times before, but this was different. It was much deeper, just a mere few tail lengths from shore and the ground seemed to drop away completely, or so they'd been told. Still, they were RiverClan cat's, RiverClan cat's determined to escape the heat.

Crouched calmly on a flat shaded stone, the placid she-cat gazed downwards, "Seeing as it's much harder to catch fish in the lake, we typically don't attempt any hunting in this area. However, it's still important you learn the difference between swimming here and the stream. You must be careful, stray to far from the shore on a windy day and it could be the end of you. Now, watch Nightclaw," Mintfur instructed with a wave of her tail.

Obediently both apprentices turned to watch the black warrior slid into the lake like a sleek otter. Instantly he was dosed everywhere but his head, this of which bobbed up and down as he kicked out strongly with all four legs. Leaving a few ripples in his wake, Nightclaw paddled out for a ways before turning back and climbing back up the bank.

"Be sure you go no farther then I have just done and try to conserve your energy." He informed them, water streaming from his dark pelt.

Eager to give it a go himself, Sparrowpaw jumped to his feet, "Can we try now?"

Purring softly, Minfur nodded, "Of course."

Tails raised, Sparrowpaw and Sootpaw bolted toward the lake like two furry canons, their rushed entrance creating a multitude of waves; the exact opposite of what Nightclaw had done. Snorting, he sat next to Mintfur shaking his head in amusement, "Apprentices ... "

Laughing cheerfully as he was instantly soaked from head to tail, Sootpaw swam deeper, splashing wildly when Sparrowpaw approached. Face dripping, his friend responded with a playful growl, spraying the gray cat in return as he swung his tail. In their moment of excitement, they soon forgot all about the heat making room for their inner kit despite being apprentices.

...

Much farther away, Whitepaw was hunkered down in a clump of long grass, his large ears swiveling back and forth as he listened to Sparrowpaw and his kin have the time of their lives. Personally he was proud of himself for coming so far, he'd tracked the little group all the way from camp without being seen once. He may not have been able to see, but when it came to smell, Whitepaw had the senses of a hound.

Knowing he'd put enough distance between himself and the others to stay well hidden, Whitepaw let himself relax. He could swim in the lake, no problem, he had it in his blood just like the rest of the cats in his clan! Determined, Whitepaw set about to thinking.

Well he couldn't just show himself in front of everyone, they'd just take him back to camp. No, he had to prove he could swim first, then they'd have to let him play. Maybe if he swam over to them, then they'd see just how wrong they were. That would work.

Still well hidden, the skinny cat crept toward the bank, his delicate pads scraping over the sand and rocks. The closer he got, the clearer he could hear the waves, so Whitepaw kept moving until he could feel the water washing over his toes.

Halting, he stared out toward his destination. How hard could it be? It was just water after all. Perhaps he could go all the way out the middle of the lake, as far as he knew, no cat had ever done that before. That would be sure to impress not only his brother, but the whole clan!

Taking a deep breath, Whitepaw lifted his chin and waded into the water.

He was a bit surprised to find how cold it was, the liquid quickly seeping through his sparse, snow white fur. Suppressing a shiver, Whitepaw compelled himself to keep going, plodding forward until he was up to his belly in fishy scented lake water. Picking up the roar of a two-leg monster further outwards, he was forced to dig his claws into the loose mud under paw to keep his balance as waves whooshed past him threatening to knock the apprentice off his feet. But he managed and it wasn't until they'd gone that he continued.

In no time at all the water rose over his back, sloshing beneath his chin and pulling at his tail. Like arms, stringy weeds curled around his legs giving him a very unpleasant feeling and nearly convincing him to turn back.

"No!" He told himself stubbornly, "I can do this."

By now he could feel the lake floor leave him and without anything to hold onto, Whitepaw began to paddle fiercely, propelling himself even farther still from the safety of the shore.

Much to his disliking, the waves grew larger, splashing into his nose causing him to inhale water and cough violently. Ears flattening to keep the insides dry, he lifted his chin higher but was unable to keep the water from twisting him here and there as it pulled him ever deeper with ease.

Accidentally sucking in a mouthful, Whitepaw sputtered loudly thinking that it might have been a good idea to go back. However, even if he wanted to, out in the water Whitepaw had completely lost all sense of direction, Panicking, he began paddling down a random course, struggling greatly to keep his head above water. Already he was tiring, growing dizzy from the constant movement.

Suddenly out of nowhere he heard yet another monster whizz past and with a yowl of terror the tom was completely enveloped by dark waves. Pawing frantically, he managed to break through the surface only to give another gurgling shout before yet more waves crashed down upon his head pushing him back under.

Holding his breath, Whitepaw just barely manage to lift his head over the waves once more. He wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear someone shouting. Not that it really mattered because yet again the lake swallowed him up, this time dragging him to great depths.

Senses numbed, he quickly found he couldn't hold his breath any longer and instinctively opened his maw releasing a torrent of tiny bubbles. Instantly water rushed into his mouth and down his throat choking him and weighing him down.

In one last distraught attempt, Whitepaw tried to pull himself back up again, hind legs beating over and over again. But it was no use, and with one final muffled scream Whitepaw ceased his movements.

For a short while he just let himself sink toward the bottom, his lungs aching terribly and it wasn't long after that the blind apprentice fell unconscious.

Strangely enough, Whitepaw was awakened to the sound of what he thought to be fighting cats. At first it was extremely dull, but after a while it grew louder and louder until the feeble tom's eye lids snapped open. Immediately Whitepaw let out an audible gasp, not because of what he saw, but simply because he could see.

Blinking rapidly, Whitepaw lifted his head. It didn't take him long to figure out he was dreaming, however it didn't stop him from observing his surroundings.

He was laying on what appeared to be a hill, the rim of a hollow. It was early dawn and everything seemed swathed in gray light and shadows. Standing, Whitepaw looked down to see four massive oaks, trees bigger then any he'd ever seen in his life, each of them leafless and covered in leaf-bare ice. It was from down there that the hissing and snarls emitted, noises that sent chills down his spine. Where was he? He'd never been anywhere like this.

Confused, he stood frozen, getting use to the idea of sight until at last curiosity pulled him closer.

Carefully Whitepaw pricked his way down the hollow side, though he didn't have to try hard not to be heard, the sounds of battle were much louder now, so loud in fact that it was all he could hear.

Reaching the bottom, Whitepaw paused, peering through the undergrowth where he could see shapes moving about wildly. So strong did the scent of blood and fear linger in the air that Whitepaw had to fight the urge to cover his nose.

Whiskers twitching, he was about to poke his head through the brambles when out of nowhere something burst through the bushes next to him. Leaping out of the way just in time, Whitepaw watched, heart pounding as a shrieking cat careened away leaving droplets of crimson in his wake. Unsure what he would see, Whitepaw stuck his head through the gape in the branches made by the retreating feline. Instantly his eyes widened significantly.

The entire clearing was filled with angry, battling cats, splatters of blood and claws flashing right in front of him. Everywhere he looked the vicious creatures tore at each other, clumps of fur littering the snow. Unsurprisingly he recognized nobody. And yet at the same time they all smelt familiar.

Soon it hit him; these were clan cat's! At least about half of them anyway.

Gaping, Whitepaw observed everything in amazement. Was this the future ... or perhaps the past? Not able to make any sense about what was going on around him, his eyes flickered left and right. He was watching nervously as a clan cat fell at the paws of one of the enemy when for whatever reason his attention was drawn to the center of the clearing where two cats were fighting near a large stone.

His gaze was turned just in time to see a very small black tom escape the grasp of the other, a ThunderClanner with a brilliant, flame colored coat that stuck out above the rest. Oddly, the black cat appeared to have a collar around his neck.

Without blinking Whitepaw looked on in awe as the black cat reared, one white paw raised with the longest, sharpest claws ever imaginable. With alarming force he managed to strike the ginger cat over the head sending him straight to the ground. Weakly the ginger cat tried to rise again, but failed, slumping back down again and going completely still.

He was dead.

Unsure what to think, Whitepaw could only stare at the motionless body, the green eyes paling, staring blankly at the sky. Wondering what it was he had just witnessed and why it felt so important, Whitepaw searched the clearing for the black cat only to hold back a squeak of surprise when he realized the stranger was staring directly at him, hardened, icy blue eyes locked upon his own.

"Whitepaw."

Whitepaw stiffened, was this cat trying to talk to him? But no, no his mouth hadn't even twitched, and even if he had he was much to far away to hear properly. Still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that it was this black cat with the collar and frightening claws that was trying to get his attention.

Shaking his head, Whitepaw looked up again, but the black cat had already stopped staring at him and was instead scuffling with a white warrior. For awhile he watched the two, unable to look away. That was until the black cat turned his head. Naturally Whitepaw too turned his head surprised to see that the ginger cat was standing again, very much alive. However, Whitepaw was not nearly as shocked as the black cat (for using simple logic he was able to determine he was a leader, therefore with more lives) who gawked at the living creature freely.

Seconds later the two were fighting again, this time with even more ferocity. To the apprentice it seemed he was watching forever, both matched evenly skill wise. Then at last the ThunderClanner had the upper hand and using a brief mistake to his advantage, grasped the black cat's throat between his jaws. Right then Whitepaw knew that it was over and right before his eyes he viewed the vicious fighters movements grow weaker and weaker until he was dead.

If he could have, Whitepaw would have stayed to watch the rest, but to his dismay, everything around him appeared to be growing fainter, the sounds distancing.

"No wait!" He called out to nothing in particular. But already his vision was dimming and just like before Whitepaw was thrown into blackness.

...

When he awoke for the second time, it was much slower, and unfortunately this time around he knew he was no longer dreaming for he'd gone back to being blind again.

Groaning, Whitepaw breathed deeply, relieved to feel fresh air flowing into his lungs. Somehow he was alive, though his throat and legs still ached. Recognizing the sharp, tangy scent of herbs, he realized he must have been in the medicine cat's den, the soft mossy material that made up his nest beneath him.

Chest heaving, Whitepaw's tail tip twitched and sluggishly he began to move.

"You're awake!"

From the other side of the den he heard the sound of paw steps, the familiar scent of his brother reaching his nose.

Affectionately Sootpaw nuzzled his only brother before pulling away, "Are you feeling okay?" He pressed urgently.

"I'm fine." Whitepaw replied shortly. He was so concentrated on the vivid dream he'd had that he'd almost completely forgotten about nearly drowning. Next to him Sootpaw crouched with worried eyes.

"Mintfur heard your shouting and if Nightclaw hadn't saved you, well ... " The tom trailed off awkwardly, distracted by the appearance of Spottedpoppy.

"Ah, your conscious, thank StarClan!" His elderly mentor purred. Approaching her apprentice, the gray spotted medicine cat dropped a plump water vole near the edge of his nest looking quite relieved.

"Here, you'll need to eat to regain your strength."

Sighing, Whitepaw resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if he didn't know, he did spend most of his time around the old coot. Instead he just settled for a brief nod, though he had no intention of eating.

Smiling, Spottedpoppy went to gather something from the opposite end of the den, "I'll just leave you two alone then, Ragear has been complaining of a stomach ache, it's best I go tend to him." She meowed briskly.

Waiting until she'd gone, Whitepaw faced Sootpaw trying to contain his excitement. He couldn't wait to tell his brother all about his dream. However just as he was about to open his mouth, Sootpaw cut him off.

"What did you think you were doing anyway? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Yeah but-"

"I told you to stay here!"

"I know but-"

"Why don't you ever listen!"

Irritated, Whitepaw glared at his litter mate, lip curled, "You know, you sound just like mother." He snapped. Snorting, Sootpaw growled.

"Oh yeah? Good! Ever since she died, I've been the one trying to keep you from doing something stupid."

Quickly angering, Whitepaw struggled to his paws, tail lashing as he faced his stronger sibling, "I said I wanted to come swimming!" He protested loudly. He could literally feel Sootpaw's disappointment coming off in waves. It'd been a while since he remembered Sootpaw being angry.

"Well you know what Whitepaw? You can't swim, and you'll never swim. Why can't you get that through your thick head? If you tried as hard at everything else as you did being a nuisance then maybe you'd actually accomplish something!"

Moments afterwards Sootpaw seemed to realize what he'd said as Whitepaw heard a breath of realization leave his mouth. But by then it was already to late. Huffing loudly, Whitepaw turned and stomped toward the exit, Sootpaw trailing after him.

"Er, no, wait Whitepaw! I worded that wrong!"

Spitting, the white cat whipped around until he was standing nose to nose with Sootpaw, who of course stood taller; not that it mattered to him.

"No, no you're right. I can't do anything."

"That's ... that's not what I said!" The gray apprentice objected. But Whitepaw didn't care.

Seething, he padded outside, the dying sunlight falling across his pelt. From behind he heard Sootpaw hurry to catch up skidding to a halt and baring his path.

"Whitepaw, just listen-"

"Get away from me!" Whitepaw shrieked, "I don't want to talk to you!"

Then without waiting to hear anymore, Whitepaw shoved past his brother, racing away, not in the direction of camp, but the other way, breaking past a thin wall of reeds and splashing out into the stream. Ignoring Sootpaw's yells, he plowed through the water, scrambling up onto the opposite bank and charging blindly into the forest.

Speeding up, Whitepaw ran and ran, branches scratching his face, sharp stones stabbing at his pads. He didn't care, he just wanted to get away from Sootpaw, from everybody in the clan. At one point he tripped, falling heavily on his face and getting a mouthful of soil. Spitting it out, he got back up again and kept going.

It wasn't until he found himself padding through mud that he slackened. Some how he'd managed to run all the way to the marsh.

Breathing heavily, Whitepaw trudged through the dirty water until he discovered a small, sandy spot raised above the muck. Deciding he would stop there, he dropped to the ground curling up in a puny, grimy ball of fur exhausted from both the near drowning experience and his retreat from camp.

He didn't want to think about Sootpaw, so instead he focused upon his dream and the little black cat, the only one who had seemed to be able to see him. Who was he? And why was everybody fighting? Unfortunately he could answer neither of these questions. As far as he knew, the whole thing could have just been a figment of his imagination.

Disheartened and hurt, Whitepaw curled himself tighter, tail tip resting over the top of his face. That night he fell asleep alone listening to the sound of crickets and frogs, wondering why it was he had to be so different from everybody else.

-sniffle- Poor little Whitepaw. :c

I don't really think it'll take that long to guess what his dream was all about. I thought it was quite obvious ... I don't know if I got all the details right, I had to flip through the last book to get everything accurate ... it was really dusty. :l