"You think the dead we loved truly ever leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly in times of great trouble?"

~Albus Dumbledore

This is my entry for the June writing challenge for WillowClan. Enjoy :)

He could smell the blood in the air, thick and heavy. The bitter stench wafted towards his nose, choking out all scents of life and tightening his throat, threatening to suffocate him. The world had gone pitch black, and he couldn't see where his stumbling paws were carrying him.

Moments later, his paws stopped moving and his body came to an abrupt halt as the wail of a dying cat pierced through the air. He sucked in a deep breath, wishing he could see what was happening around him. His heart began to flutter against his chest, and his stomach twisted itself into knots.

He spun his head around, panic rising in his throat, and stopped cold as his eyes met the hard, yellow gaze of his nightmare. His fur stood on end as he stared into its face - the face of an angry badger.

He screeched, leaping backwards and trying desperately to flee from the massive beast. His legs carried him with all the strength that he could muster, but when he looked back over his shoulder, his blood ran cold. The badger was not moving, but its face remained directly behind him, glaring into his skull with fierce intensity. He was running in place.

He spun around, heart pounding so hard that he felt as if it would crash right through his chest. His gaze raked over the badger, examining every detail in its powerful features. Its fur was ragged, clawed in several places by furious cats. Its gaze was cold and angry, and crimson blood stained its massive paws. He peered around the badger and yowled in horror when he saw the two limp bodies that lay behind the creature. The badger's fur was not stained with just any blood, he realized. It was his mother's blood, his father's blood; his own blood.

He shrieked once again in terror before the badger opened its wide jaws and clamped down, ending his life with a single bite.

Reedpaw flung his eyes open, gasping for air. An unbearable headache pierced his skull, and it took all the strength he had to stop himself from crying out in pain.

The night was still, and the only noise to be heard was the gentle breathing of cats nearby. Wedged between the other apprentices, his feather-lined nest cradled him in a soft embrace. He was not surrounded by darkness, there was no blood, and his face was not about to be ripped off by an angry badger's teeth. It was just a dream. He forced his prickled fur to lay flat, but his amber eyes remained wide.

Just a dream, nothing but a dream. He repeated this in his mind, but he knew it was more than just a dream. It was a memory. A painful, heart-wrenching memory that haunted him every night he tried to sleep. Even after all these moons, the memory was still fresh in the back of his mind. After their parents were killed, he and his sister were able to escape before the badger reached them. But they never could in his dreams. In his dreams, the badger would kill everyone, stopping at nothing for a chance to taste cat blood on its tongue.

He once again pictured the badger's hard gaze and wide jaws, its huge body leaning forward to bite into his face. A shudder wracked over his body.

He shook his head, trying to push the image away, and immediately winced from the pain that had been brought on by his headache. He narrowed his eyes. Stop being stupid, he told himself. It's just a little pain, and it was just a little dream. Nightmares are for kits, and you are not a kit.

Determined to get some sleep, Reedpaw set his throbbing head on his paws and let the cold silence of the night envelope him once again.

...

The first thing Reedpaw felt was a sharp blow to his side. Confusion set in as he snapped his eyes open, lifting his head and prickling his fur. "Huh? What's going on?" he half-shouted.

As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his sister's face slowly came into focus. She was standing above him, one paw raised and a mischievous smile stretched across her muzzle. For good measure, she reared up on her hind legs and brought her paws crashing into Reedpaw's flank for the second time.

"Ow!" he hissed. "Stop it Snowpaw! I'm awake!" He stood up, glaring at his sister, and gave his pelt a shake. "What do you want?" he muttered.

Snowpaw, who was obviously amused, was purring as she watched Reedpaw stand up and try to groom down his prickled fur. "Great StarClan," she said playfully, "You sleep more than an elder!" She whisked her tail gently through the air. "It's already sunhigh, you big, lazy furball!"

"I couldn't sleep very well last night," Reedpaw grunted. He narrowed his eyes at her. "I was getting the best sleep I'd had in moons until you so kindly woke me."

Snowpaw's face brightened even more. "Oh, don't be so grumpy, Reedpaw!" She flicked her tail over his ear. "Don't you want to know why I woke you?"

Reedpaw sighed. "Yeah, what is it?"

Her eyes twinkled with excitement, and her tail curled behind her. "The dawn patrol scented WindClan in our territory again!" she exclaimed. "Minnowstar is about to announce a Clan meeting about it. And you know what I think? I think we're finally going to attack those mangy, flea-bitten mousebrains!"

Reedpaw felt his eyes widen. A battle against WindClan? That hardly seemed fair. WindClan, who had been having trouble catching prey in their territory, was becoming weaker by the day. Any confrontation with them would be unjustly one-sided.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep!" With that, she spun around and pranced out of the den, leaving Reedpaw alone. He watched as the white tip of her tail disappeared out the den entrance.

With a long stretch of his limbs, Reedpaw followed his sister out into the RiverClan camp. He had to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight.

Just as Snowpaw had said, Minnowstar looked like she was about to announce a Clan meeting. She leaped onto the old, gnarled stump that used to be a willow tree and turned to address her Clan.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a Clan meeting!" she yowled.

Reedpaw watched as his Clanmates began to gather below Minnowstar. He took a seat next to his sister, his fur brushing against her's.

When all of RiverClan had settled themselves, Minnowstar cleared her throat. "As many of you already know," she began, "WindClan has been scented in our territory yet again." A few angry yowls rose from the crowd, but no cat sounded surprised. "Because this is the third time within the past moon, I believe it's time we let WindClan know that this will not be tolerated any longer." She shifted her gaze across the Clan. "Tonight at dusk, we will launch an attack on WindClan."

Reedpaw felt his fur prickle at the words. His sister had been right. Snowpaw, who sat beside him, was nearly trembling with excitement, her eyes wide.

"These are the cats that will be joining the battle: Troutwhisker, Nightfrost, Honeyblaze, Willowbreeze, Dustmask, Blackstorm, Littlesplash, Reedpaw, Snowpaw, and myself, of course."

As soon as his name had been said, Reedpaw felt his heart turn to stone. He couldn't hear over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he was vaguely aware of his sister squealing with excitement at his side. This would be his first battle. A shudder wracked down his spine as he realized it might be his last battle, too. He could end up the same way as his parents - in a bloody heap on the ground.

His heart unfroze and instantly began pounding against his chest, harder than he'd ever felt it before.

"Isn't this great?" squealed Snowpaw. "Maybe if we fight well enough, Minnowstar will even make us warriors!" She leaped to her paws and trotted off. Reedpaw remained glued to the ground, unable to reply or even move.

He was finally snapped out of his thoughts when a deep voice sounded behind him. "Reedpaw?"

He spun around to see his mentor, Blackstorm. All of the other cats had left the Clan meeting, even Minnowstar was no where in sight.

"Reedpaw, I'm so proud of you," rumbled Blackstorm. "Minnowstar chose you for this battle because she knows you're ready." His amber eyes stared into Reedpaw's with intensity.

"O-Oh," was all Reedpaw managed to choke out. He cleared his throat and gave his head a good shake. "Should we practice some battle moves to prepare, or..?"

"Sorry, no time for that. But don't worry, you don't need more time to practice. You're the most prepared apprentice by far." He nodded his head. "Just go do some apprentice duties, okay? Check on the elders."

"Alright," muttered Reedpaw. His eyes were wide with fear. He turned around and strutted across camp, trying to prevent his legs from trembling as he walked. When he reached the brambly entrance to the elder's den, he pushed his way inside.

Inside the den, Graystrike sat with her tail wrapped over her paws. As soon as her eyes met Reedpaw's, a thick frown curled the edges of her muzzle. "Oh great, look who it is," she grumbled, nudging Streampelt with her foot. Streampelt remained sound asleep. "It's that grumpy little Reedpaw," Graystrike continued.

Reedpaw glared at her. "Look, I don't have time to listen to you tell me how irritating I am. Do you want new bedding or not?"

"Ha!" barked Graystrike. "Listen to this little guy." She shook her head in exasperation. "You think your time is more important than mine, don't you?"

Reedpaw bit his tongue, trying to hold back a retort. Graystrike had always seemed to have something against him, but he never could figure out why. He stepped forward, ignoring Graystrike's comment, and began to tug at her old bedding.

"Hey!" snapped Graystrike. "Be careful! I don't want you getting bits of moss all over."

Reedpaw narrowed his eyes and dropped the moss. "Oh shut up!" he snapped, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "I'm joining the battle against WindClan tonight! Show me some respect. For all you know, I could be dead tomorrow morning."

Graystrike seemed unfazed by Reedpaw's remark. She whisked her tail through the air. "Battle against WindClan? That doesn't sound too dangerous. Besides, what's one more dead cat? We'll all die eventually."

Reedpaw felt his anger flare and he flattened his ears. "Shut up you stupid elder! My parents are dead! Do you have respect for anything? I mean look at yourself! You'll be dead soon too! So stop being such a stupid, old fleabag!"

There was a mischievous gleam in Graystrike's eyes, as if she had been trying to set Reedpaw off. She purred, an amused smile stretching over her muzzle. "Is that what you're always so cross about? That your parents are dead?" A chuckle escaped her jaw, which soon escalated into a full, howling laugh. In only a few heartbeats, she was lying on the floor, her sides heaving with laughter.

Reedpaw felt his anger rise even further, and fury coursed through his blood. "How dare you!" he hissed. "Shut your mouth you good-for-nothing, foxhearted elder!" He whipped his tail through the air violently, his ears flat against his head and his eyes narrowed. He unsheathed his claws and continued to glare at her, his blood boiling.

Graystrike stopped laughing and lifted her head. Slowly, she rose to an upright position and sat calmly in front of Reedpaw, her eyes still gleaming with amusement.

"Calm down mousebrain. I'm not laughing because your parents are dead, I'm laughing at how mousebrained you are," she stated matter-of-factly. She lifted a gray paw to her face and began to groom herself by licking the paw with short, rough rasps, then swiping it gently over her ear.

Reedpaw still glared at her, his fur prickling across his spine and his throat clenched tight with anger. He chose not to speak, or rather he couldn't speak, so instead he only let out a single, long hiss.

Graystrike rolled her dull amber eyes and sighed. She dropped her washed paw back to the ground and locked eyes with Reedpaw, her gaze losing all of its amusement and replacing it with firm intensity. "Listen to me," she said. "I was just kidding around. Don't you know that death isn't really the end? You think our dead kin ever truly leave us? Your parents were strong cats... You couldn't get rid of those two furballs even if you tried. Your mother and father live on inside you and your sister."

She paused to see if Reedpaw had anything to say, but the brown tabby remained silent, his fur still prickled across his spine.

"It's true. I see them in you all the time. Your father's fierce eyes and his kind heart. Your mother's thick fur and quick temper." She eyed Pinepaw up and down and snorted before saying, "Yep, definitely her temper. More than anything, your mother's fiery temper."

She went back to washing her paw.

Reedpaw, who still hadn't spoken a word, was still glaring and Graystrike, but his eyes no longer held the same rage. "My.. My parents are dead," was all he managed to choke out.

"So? They died to save you and your sister. Sure, maybe you can't see them, but your parents are right here with us. They're within you. You'll never be without them. And tonight, when you need them, when you really, truly, need them, they will show themselves and fight right alongside you." She flicked her tail at him. "Now stop acting like a whiny little kit," she grumbled. "It's irritating."

Reedpaw stared at her, his mouth agape. She was just joking around? What an insensitive fleabag! He felt as if he should be angry at her, but no anger prickled his pelt. In fact, he felt unusually calm. It dawned on him that Graystrike was right - he did have his father's eyes and his mother's temper. He did have his mother's thick, brown fur and his father's kind heart. And they did live on inside him and his sister.

Reedpaw didn't say another word to Graystrike, even when she continued to snap at him as he changed her bedding. A feeling of security wrapped around him, and he hadn't felt as content and calm as this in a long time.

...

By the time dusk arrived, Reedpaw didn't feel any nerves over the coming battle. As the battle patrol stepped across the RiverClan border and into WindClan territory, a strange sense of peace flowed through him, leaving him feeling light and airy.

The air was thick and tense, but no fears nibbled at his thoughts. Graystrike's words echoed thought his head once again. And when you need them, when you really, truly, need them, they will show themselves and fight right alongside you. A slow smile stretched over his muzzle, something that hadn't happened in a long time.

He flexed his claws, feeling a newfound sense of power rush through his veins as adrenaline. Tonight, and every night onward, he wasn't fighting his battles alone. When he came across his first enemy, he knew his parents would be right there beside him. Tonight, he fought with his parents, and his sister, and with every cat whose blood coursed through his own veins, dead or alive. He was fighting with them, and more importantly, he was fighting for them. After all, the dead we loved never truly leave us.

AN: Ta-da! This is my first WillowClan Monthly Writing Challenge, so I hope it was okay. Please review and tell me how I did! :3