AN: Thank you very much for the reviews! Yeah, the writing style's one I'm still trying to work with (I feel like it gets tedious after a bit, particularly with Ashpaw lacking real dialogue). I'll probably keep future chapters at around this length, though; brevity is something I'm also experimenting with - no more several thousand word long chapters from me. :D
2: warning
Almost as soon as Ashpaw closes his eyes, he senses Lilypaw's presence. He greets her—which is awkward, since he can't see her—but he knows she's there. He's had an entire day of planning what to say. He starts by asking her how her day has been.
"The usual apprentice things," she answers. "I was wondering about you, actually. You said you've gotten used to living without a voice—but how does that work out in life? You can't report to your leader, you can't warn your Clanmates of danger—so how?"
It's been hard, he admits. One time a snake had slithered silently into camp; he had been at the elders' den clearing the nests, but he hadn't been able to warn old Patchfur of the threat. A life had been lost that day, one that could have been saved with a voice.
But, he adds with optimism, he does have a way to speak with others. Whipping his tail means danger. A flick of the tail from left to right means thank you. A flick in the opposite direction, from right to left, means help. It isn't much, Ashpaw admits, but it's better than nothing.
"That's clever! Did you think of it?"
No; his mentor Fawnstep had been the one who introduced it to him. It was tough on her to have such a strange apprentice, but Ashpaw thinks that she's grown to work around it, and he admires her for that.
"The warriors in my Clan aren't like that," Lilypaw says quietly. "They would have…"
What would they have done?
"They would pity you, I guess. But not much else."
Oh. He supposes he's lucky to have been born in NightClan, then. He considers asking Lilypaw which Clan she's from—but since she hasn't done so already, it's clear that Lilypaw doesn't intend on referring to her Clan by name.
She has something to hide, but Ashpaw isn't one to question the only one who can hear him. So maybe he'd find answers a different way.
He asks her if she'll be at the upcoming Gathering.
"You're going?"
Ashpaw swears he can see her right then—the faintest shimmer of an outline resembling a cat, shorter and skinnier than he.
Yes, he was going—but why? What's wrong?
She is silent for a long, long time. Before long, Ashpaw can feel the time of his dream world slipping away. As he opens his eyes to the dim lights of early morning, her last words resonate within him with the weight and power of omen:
"Don't go to the Gathering."