Back to Littlefalcon. In other words - nothing will ever make sense ever again. Because, if you haven't picked up from the way he interacts with others, something is going down with poor Littlefalcon, be it just residual stress from having a pregnant WindClan mate or what.

In related news: Hailstorm! Reedwhisker! Oakfur!

Enjoy!

Chapter 9: The Present and the Future

Littlefalcon opened his eyes slowly, knowing at first the faint taste of smoke residing on the tip of his tongue, remembering only how it felt for the wind to move so desolately through his pelt. He stood in a small pocket of darkness, feeling very much as though he was the only living creature for miles around.

The world was on fire.

Flames cascaded up in a semi-circle around him, encasing Littlefalcon in what should have been a protective shield, but really blocked everything from him. The taste of smoke in his mouth was replaced with the taste of fear, and more than that, of despair. He knew what world this was. He knew into what he was staring – the end of all things. The end of a world, the end of it all, the end that could only come with hellfire.

The end of himself, too, now that he considered it more closely. Littlefalcon wondered if there was going to be some respite, or if he was to be caught in this cycle for the rest of eternity, sitting in the flames unable to move as everything crumbled around him. As everything finished crumbling – it had been deteriorating for a while. He could measure the rate of deterioration, if he thought about it. No, that seemed far too difficult for a dream.

That's right. This was a dream. Littlefalcon closed his eyes, but still the roar of eternal flames stopped him from reaching total darkness, total concentration. He sighed, and his breath condensed in the air like water droplets. But that was wrong, too.

His eyes shot open for real this time. Moonlight slapped him abrasively, and Littlefalcon realized where he was. He stood in the center of the camp, unmoving, his chin tilted up towards the stars. How had this happened? Had he slept-walked?

"You're not okay, are you?" Littlefalcon blinked, and sitting before him was Icecloud. Her soft eyes shone just as brightly as the stars. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything."

"Yes, I do," said Icecloud. She moved forward, looking as though she wanted to reach out and lick back the fur that always stood up behind his ears, or nuzzle him back into the nursery again. But she restrained herself, standing in front of him, as though he had put up a barrier between them. Littlefalcon hadn't meant to do that.

"I can take care of myself." He could not stop his words. He could not prevent the barrier from solidifying. It got more tangible everyday. He had started putting up the barriers between him and the others, too – Skysong, Mountainstone. All of them.

"You're not alright," said Icecloud again. "I can see it. You think you can hide what you're feeling from everyone by being so calm."

"I'm fine," said Littlefalcon again. He was calm – he had always been calm. Calm was acceptance. Calm was not fear. Calm was not tension. Calm was foreseeing the end and accepting it, not fighting it. He could not fight. He did not have it in him to fight.

"I'm your mother. I know when you're upset."

"I appreciate the maternal concern, but – "

"No, stop," said Icecloud. Her eyes were angry now. Littlefalcon hadn't seen her angry, not in a long time. It stopped him from moving. "You're hiding something."

Littlefalcon didn't bother denying it.

"You have something you aren't saying," said Icecloud. "You want to keep it from the others. Is it a problem for them?"

More than you could know.

"I won't endanger the others," said Littlefalcon. "My littermates are important. The Clan is important. Trust me. I'm doing my best."

"Is your best enough?"

"Aren't you supposed to believe I'm capable of anything I put my mind to?"

"Are you putting your mind to it?" Icecloud shook her head. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"I don't see how I could." There was too much to explain. Too many layers. He smiled, though. She deserved that. "I really am grateful for the concern."

"You're so polite," said Icecloud. "I can see why Lionstar chose you to train to become ThunderClan's great leader."

The words strummed in Littlefalcon's heart, the positive warm buzz he needed. Icecloud still thought he was worthy. Icecloud still believed that he was the great leader, because he was! It had been written out for him all along. Water will fall into starlit power – power, he had always been the most powerful. Most masterful of his powers.

His powers.

Littlefalcon nearly laughed aloud, and he turned away from Icecloud.

"I should get more sleep," he said. His words were robotic now, directing him instead of the other way around, like a part of his brain was living his life on autopilot. He didn't know if he was in control anymore. He didn't think he could stop it.

"If you need to get the burden off your chest," said Icecloud as he treaded back to the den, "you can come and find me. No matter what it is, I won't love you any less."

Her blind compassion made him smile. It made sense that Lionstar loved her. He would have loved her, too, if he were Lionstar. He wished what was good in Icecloud had been passed along to him, enhancing him more than the artificial enhancements made upon him when he had woken. If he could claim that he was powerful at all, anymore. His words had no power anymore – Birdfeather's words had replaced his. What was next? He could already feel his ability to connect slipping from him, too. Where was that going? What was he, if not the most powerful of the Great Five? Was he just…a cat?

Could he live a normal life, if he tried to get rid of his powers?

He knew the answers to many questions, but not these deep hypotheticals. It gave him pause. Littlefalcon took to his nest in the warrior's den and curled up, but he didn't try to sleep. He didn't want to dream again.

X

She was there when he arrived, and she was not alone.

"What are you doing here?" The defensive stance already. Littlefalcon was not off to a good start.

"Please, relax." Ivychase turned her gaze over to Hailstorm, who was just glaring at Littlefalcon. "Both of you, please."

"You're the idiot responsible for this?" said Hailstorm.

"What are you doing here?" repeated Littlefalcon.

"Please don't fight!" Ivychase flicked her tail. "Littlefalcon, I've asked Hailstorm to pretend to be the father of my kits. And Hailstorm, I'm the one responsible for this, thank you very much."

That was just like Ivychase. Littlefalcon smiled. Hailstorm didn't seem to like that he was smiling.

"What?" said Ivychase, surprised at the pure happiness on Littlefalcon's face. He could see that she had changed, that she really was having kits, just from the way she carried herself. He could see the slight swell in her stomach. It hadn't felt real until he had seen that, but it was very real. He was going to be a father.

No, he reminded himself, glancing at the black WindClan warrior. Hailstorm is going to be a father. For the seventeenth time that evening, he reminded himself that he wasn't going to be a father, not how it mattered.

"I'm glad you're here, Hailstorm," said Littlefalcon. "Thank you for doing this." Hailstorm lashed his tail again, but he seemed less peeved.

"Ivychase is my friend," he said. "And I'm not interested in a mate."

In the back of his mind, Littlefalcon remembered that Hailstorm had been interested in Lizardpaw, Ivychase's now-dead sister. The thought brought a slight bubble of regret to the top of his chest. How intense was this game going to be now?

"Can I come over?" he said. He needed to be near Ivychase, needed to hear her heartbeat and feel the swell under her stomach. He needed to go through the motions, at least, of being a father –

No, a part of him screamed. He had to run away, as far away as possible, if only to spare Ivychase the pain of raising these kits alone.

She wouldn't be alone. She would have Hailstorm.

That wouldn't matter.

Maybe she could learn to love him, someday.

Not while he was in the picture!

He couldn't stay in the picture.

"I won't be far," said Hailstorm, backing away into the thinning layer of trees. "I'll keep an alert."

Ivychase smiled once he had gone, and Littlefalcon dived into the water, letting it carry him for a few seconds before popping back up. Ivychase's eyes had never been greener, it seemed. He loved her too much.

"My RiverClan cat," she teased.

"I'm sure RiverClan would take offense," he said, only half as a joke. "Is Hailstorm really alright with this?"

"He was the first cat who found out, even before my brother," said Ivychase, her voice dropping to a low volume. "I didn't ask him to help me. He offered."

"Why?" Littlefalcon snorted. "It's no secret that WindClan hates us."

"That may be true, but Hailstorm is my friend," said Ivychase. She shook her head. "Can you imagine the war we would spark if anyone found out?"

Oh, yes. Littlefalcon could imagine it very clearly, every possibility until the bitter end – hellfire. Always hellfire. He let his eyes drift over Ivychase's pelt, captivated by the shades of red captured in one cat. She was so complex. She understood. No one else understood, but Ivychase had always been able to get him.

To an extent.

Always an extent.

Ivychase nuzzled under his chin, startling Littlefalcon. He tried to focus on her again. She was the only real cat he could focus on for very long. He responded with a purr, feeling her close to him. Ivychase hovered there, feeling his heartbeat. Hesitantly, copying the technique he had seen Birdfeather using, Littlefalcon raised a paw to his mate's flank.

Ivychase blinked, repositioning so Littlefalcon could feel the swell of their – her – kits.

"I asked Kestrelflight," she said. "He said four."

"Four?"

"Maybe five."

Five…Littlefalcon tried to look pleased. He licked the top of his mate's head, and she purred. Of course it was going to be five. It was always going to be five, wasn't it?

Maybe four.

If he was being honest with himself, he already knew it was going to be five.

"I'm so happy," he said. When he was with her, wrapped in her warmth and in her scent, he could claim that and not have it be a lie. "I wish I could be with you all the time. I love you."

Ivychase purred and laughed, pulling away to look him in the eye.

"Something's different about you," she said. Littlefalcon took a step back, stealing a look at himself in the stream behind him. His amber-blue eyes stared back at him. Littlefalcon swallowed.

"I'm sure you're imagining it," he said. "If anything, I'm a little tired."

"Are your eyes a different color?"

"What? Of course not." Of course not. Of course not, Ivychase.

Ivychase blinked twice.

"I suppose not," she said. "You're stressed."

"I'm excited," he said.

"But also stressed," she guessed. She hesitated, sitting back on her paws. "I'm sorry you won't be able to see them much."

"It's fine," said Littlefalcon. "Maybe at Gatherings?"

"Maybe," she said, smiling. "Or…I could see if you could take some."

"Me?" said Littlefalcon. He imagined showing up at ThunderClan, kits bouncing around his ankles. How would he explain them? Would Lionstar even care to figure out the truth, if Littlefalcon claimed he had found them as rogues? He could care for them as a real father figure.

For a while.

Not at all?

Maybe it was a bad idea.

The idea was a good one.

"Yes," said Ivychase, nodding. "Yes, that's a good idea. Don't say no, Littlefalcon. I know that this is what you want."

It was what he wanted, so he smiled bashfully.

"Nightkit and Marshkit will probably be apprentices by then," he said. "Or close to it. We may not have a nursing queen. Besides, they need a real mother."

"I can mother them from afar, the same way you'll father them."

"What if they meet each other in battle? They fight for different Clans."

"They'll never need to know. No one will need to know."

Birdfeather would know. Birdfeather, after all, had always known, and sometimes, Littlefalcon resented that fact. And Skysong! It was incredible that Skysong didn't already know. They would all find out.

"Okay," said Littlefalcon, and he wasn't sure which part of himself had answered – probably the optimistic side, the side that refused to see the ending.

That side was being out-reasoned.

He needed that side. More than anything else.

"I love you," he said again.

"I love you, too," she said. He couldn't get sick of hearing it. He couldn't get sick of saying it. And even though it was all going to hellfire, it wasn't the end yet, and Littlefalcon decided he would enjoy himself before the flames began.

XXXXX

At Lionstar's insistence, Littlefalcon was filling in for Doveheart at this Gathering, so he tentatively took his place beside Reedwhisker. The black RiverClan tom observed him for a few seconds with cold eyes. Keeping calm, Littlefalcon dipped his head respectively.

"I'm filling in for Doveheart," said Littlefalcon, bowing his head. "She has fallen sick."

"Oh, what a shame," said Reedwhisker, but his tail twitched back and forth along the rocks as if Littlefalcon had merely informed him of a light chill in the air. "And Lionstar chose you to fill in?"

"I don't understand the decision myself," said Littlefalcon with a confused smile.

"Well, you are his son," said Reedwhisker. "Perhaps that factors into it?"

"I don't think so," said Littlefalcon with a laugh. He tilted his head to the side. "I'm the least impressive of my littermates, believe me."

Smallest. Quietest. Most powerless. Least.

One day, though, one day soon, they would see. They had all called him Littlestar, in his dreams, and they would again.

If he got that far. Hellfire awaited.

"Oh, I've heard of you," said Reedwhisker quite pleasantly. "You're quite popular throughout the Clans, aren't you, Littlefalcon?"

He tensed. Throughout the Clans.

"I don't know what you could be saying," he said.

"Your charm," said Reedwhisker. "Surely you've had luck with a she-cat, then?"

Throughout the Clans. There was a spark in Reedwhisker's eyes. Something cold. Something knowing. Something dark. Littlefalcon stifled the growl in the back of his throat and the accusation he knew he couldn't loose.

"Hey." He glanced up at Oakfur, his savior, who was currently more fixated on glaring at Reedwhisker. "You getting trouble, Littlefalcon?"

"No, it's fine," said Littlefalcon. He wondered if this is what it was usually like – if Doveheart usually sat here, waiting for Oakfur to back her up. Were they so divided now?

WindClan and Whitetail arrived not long afterwards, and as the leaders got to their small-talk and debates over who would speak first, Littlefalcon turned his eyes up to the sky. It didn't seem time for a Gathering, and not one like this. He didn't want to be at this one. He didn't feel…ready.

Was he ever going to feel ready?

His eyes flitted shut as fire lanced down from the sky, and screams and the scent of singed blood were all he could figure out.

Littlefalcon woke with a start, a heavy gasp ripping from his lungs. A dream. It had been a dream. Feeling the shift of Skysong beside him, he repositioned, curling his paws under him. Someone rolled over in their nest, possibly alerted by his laboring breaths. Littlefalcon gritted his teeth, but try as he may, he couldn't shut his eyes. What would he see next? It was always fire, and blood, and the dreams were becoming way too intense. Sometimes he saw the hellfire – most nights. Most nights he saw the hellfire. Some nights it was just death – cats dying all around him. Sometimes, the good dreams won out, and he led ThunderClan to victory. Those had been his dreams in the old days, but now the old days were few and far between. It felt as though being Littlestar, being anyone at all, was slipping away from him.

He was starting to confuse the horrible dreams with real life. The lines were blurring. It frightened him, but it was too much of a burden to share with the others. He walked this path, however dark, alone.

Mwahahahaha. I feel so mean, writing Littlefalcon like this. I've kind of abandoned all subtlety at this point. If you're looking for answers, you'll find them in a Littlefalcon chapter. If they don't confuse you to pieces. I'm really sorry if it's hard to differentiate between what is a dream and what isn't. I find italics takes away most of the suspense.

LITTLEFALCON IS THE HARDEST TO WRITE. But also the most rewarding, in a kind of twisted way. He's got so much going on in that tiny little head of his. It's a lot of fun, I must say. :)

This is the last chapter of NaNoWriMo, if I'm not mistaken. I have one more chapter of Willowshine's Adventure left this month. But, of course, I'm WAAAAY ahead of schedule, so if you're lucky...Chapter 10 may be out soon. We'll see. No real promises.

Chapter 10 is back to Birdfeather and the upcoming Gathering! Hence why I switched this chapter with the one before it.

Last announcement, promise! Please go fill out the poll on my profile! It will take you like six seconds, maybe. Maybe ten, if you're indecisive. I just really need to know what characters you like and which characters you're kind of meh about. Or you could tell me in a review! Thanks, everyone!

~Elsi