This is a writing contest entry for A Perfect Circle, a Warriors forum that I am a part of, but it is going here in my challenge book for The Clan of Clouds because it ties into the world that I've built. Now, this piece is basically written in media res, so you will more likely than not lack the context for this story to make sense, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Morning glanced around her den, feeling the burning sun begin to make its way onto her skin. It wasn't a particularly unpleasant feeling – she had enough memories of cold and darkness to keep the sun from making it into the list of things that she hated, but she could certainly say that this desert sun was a far cry from the warm bringer of light that lived among her infinite recollections. Some of those egos within her would stir, begging her to just stretch her legs and bask in the sunlight; she understood that that had been a rather common activity in certain ages. If she'd even suggested telling that to her followers, she suspected they'd all lose faith in her, wondering whether or not their prophet had gone completely insane. No, the sun was their enemy deep in this arid land. It was the bringer of death, harbinger of sleep; it was the cruel being that drained away what little water survived into dust, the light responsible for the deaths of so many in the generations they'd resided in this barren land.

Still, she could not help but feel the satisfaction of its warmth. The sand lay appealing beneath her, enveloping her in its blanket of warmth. Her tail swished happily through the grains of sand, the earth itself seeming to move for her, reshaping to her whims as she curled up, letting the torpor of sleep again grip her mind. After all, she had made sure that pretty much nobody could find her wonderfully hidden hiding spot. She could just sleep in, at least until Night showed up. Her brother – now, he was a leader if she ever saw one. Too bad the mantle had to pass onto her. She sighed, shaking her head; it wasn't like she could do anything about it now. Chance had chosen her, and she would just have to live with it. She laid her head down, watching the morning sun take flight into the open air.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

A laugh, followed by the sound of paws scurrying away. A bright figure darted away, pelt burning like fire in the daylight, shooting through the field of grass like a thirsty mouse towards water. Morning felt herself laugh alongside the other cat, running towards the now-distant figure.

Oh, so it's one of these dreams, Morning thought. Of course it is.

The wind rushed past as she ran, a true breeze – nothing like the burning wind of the desert, the wind that could reshape the earth. No, this was something simpler. It was something unquantifiable, something different – with all her generations of memory, she still couldn't think of the words to do it justice.

She saw the other cat turn to run, quickly growing smaller and smaller as she rushed into the distance. Sighing, she felt her move to follow, and she suddenly felt something very odd, very different. It took her a few moments to realize what it was: one of her legs was dragging; it was dead, broken.

"Sky, slow down!" Morning felt her voice call, though the sound was not her own. The pitch was off, just barely off – too high, too low; she couldn't tell the difference. It was just wrong. Everything about this just felt wrong, and she couldn't shake that feeling away, no matter how many times she did this. This body was not her own, yet it still felt as if it was, as if this voice were her own, as if this world was hers. But still she knew it wasn't. No, this was just a vision – a vision of a time long past.

Still, why had she never seen this one before?

An infinity of these memories lay within her, memories within memories, dreams within dreams. From the moment she stepped into this earth, these visions had come to her in the silence of night, had taught her of the ancient world that once was. At times, she dreamed of dreaming these visions, and of dreaming a dream of a dream of these sights, but still, never had she seen these faces. Never had this land come to her in the darkness, shown itself to her prying eyes … what was this place?

"You're not going to get any better if you don't try!" she heard a voice – Sky, she assumed – call.

"I am trying!" she heard herself protest, feeling the weight of her crippled leg dragging behind her.

"You're not trying hard enough, then," Sky replied, her voice disapproving. "I'm not stopping, you know? We're going to keep on doing this over and over again. You need your strength. I am not just going to let you lie there bedridden all day and night."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You've only told me this every time we've done this."

Silence. The other she-cat – Sky – began the slow walk back, her ginger fur gleaming, disappointment in those amber eyes. And with that silence, Morning felt her head turn, the sights before her shifting with the movement until her eyes finally came to rest on the blackened remains of her leg. It seemed like there should have been pain, looking at that dead thing, but there was none. Just emptiness. Nothing where there should have been something.

Images flashed through her mind in quick succession, sights, sounds, smells blending together into a mess of thoughts and emotions. Memories within memories … those were quite something indeed. Still, she could remember everything, sense it all – the smell of smoke filled her mind, the sound of crackling leaves ringing all around her. She could remember the flames, the bright flames, dancing through the trees, leaving fiery destruction in its wake. She could feel the pain of it, the fire burning at her skin, ripping into flesh and bone with its ravenous touch. She could feel the fear that had driven her in that time, that primeval will to live, that ancient aversion to pain, driving her to run, to flee, to do all that she could to ensure that she would survive.

Something happened, Morning noted. That'd be an interesting memory to see.

"Hello? You still there?" The voice snapped her back into reality, and she saw two amber orbs staring at her, a look of concern painted on them.

"Yeah, I'm still here," she replied, her voice a little shaky.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Great! That means we can get back to your recovery, no?"

"Why did it have to be you who found me?"

"Don't think I don't know the ways of your kind. They would've left you to die and you know it. It's not even as if they don't have reason to. So far, you've really only lain around complaining about the unfairness of life in the time I'm not making you train."

"Doesn't make life not unfair."

"It's called survival of the fittest," Sky sighed. "Ever heard of it?"

"You think I chose to be in that fire?"

"What I think has nothing to do with this."

"It has everything to do with this!"

"No, what you think has everything to do with this."

"That doesn't even make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense. You're angry; I'm not. One of us clearly is in better control of our emotions than the other."

"You weren't the one who lost use of a leg because of that fire."

"No, but I did lose a home."

"Homes can be replaced."

"That one, yes."

"My leg can't ever be replaced."

"That's very true, yes."

"So I think I have a right to be angry!"

"Of course you have a right to be angry."

"Then why are you forcing me to do this?"

"Because your mind doesn't seem to be clear enough to notice every time I dodge your questions."

"Sky!"

"Nightingale."

So that's her name, Morning thought. Nightingale … a bit of a mouthful, I have to say.

"That doesn't even make any sense," Nightingale replied.

"It makes total sense. You say my name, I say yours."

"But that doesn't make any sense!"

"I think your mind is just still muddled from all that lying around."

"I think my mind is muddled from wasting all this energy trying to chase you down."

"Nonsense!" Sky exclaimed. "You Oldkin, with your love of efficiency ... 'Oh, we're wasting energy with this. It's so pointless.' Give me a break. All of us know the only good way to clear your mind is to go for a nice, long run around the Sacred Lands."

Sacred Lands? Morning wondered. Sure doesn't look sacred to me. Too much grass.

"You made so many generalizations right then, I don't know where to start," Nightingale replied.

"You could always start with the first one."

"I don't know why I even bother sometimes."

"I'm afraid I don't know either."

"Do you try to be this annoying?"

"Only around half of the time."

"I swear, one of these days, I'm going to kill you."

"You swear to whom?"

"It's just an expression, Sky."

"It's a weird expression for you Oldkin."

"Okay, fine, we don't have your 'Earth Mother' or whatever to swear to, but you all have been around long enough that we've just picked it up, all right?"

"Not all right."

"Oh, shut up."

"If I shut up, will you actually practice running some more?"

"Well, you won't know until you try."

"I know a con when I see one."

"No, you actually don't."

"Now who's being annoying?"

Nightingale sighed. "Look," she began, "I get it. I can't really pull my own weight at this point. I know you've had to work harder to take care of me these last few days, and I do appreciate it, but we've done this over and over again … I just need a break."

Now it was Sky's turn to sigh. "It's painful, isn't it?" she asked. When no response came, she simply continued. "Good. Pain helps. Pain will take you and try to tear you to pieces. And you know what? It will. It'll tear you to pieces. Now, I don't know what it's like, not having that leg, but I can tell you this: you got out of that fire alive. I saw the charred corpses, the ashes left with the death of those flames. However high this mountain may be, you can still climb it. I know you can."

Nightingale only sat their quietly, pawing at the earth, her eyes averted from the feline before her.

"When I was a kit," Sky began, "which I admit was not long ago, but still, when I was a kit, I remember my mother used to tell me something. You know what it was? It was that every day, every single day, there was one thing I should always do, one action to keep my life from spiraling away. And do you know what that was? It was to ask myself if what I was doing today is getting me any closer to where I want to be tomorrow. So go on. Ask yourself if what you're doing today is going to be any help to you tomorrow."

She sighed, turning to walk away. "I'm going back to the camp," she said. "Drag yourself back if that's what you want. It's summer. It shouldn't be that hard to find enough prey for the both of us. Then you can go back to your sleeping."

Nightingale watched the she-cat slowly fade away into the distance, and her gaze turned again to her ruined leg, to that black, charred flesh. And as she saw her friend walk away to the distant horizon, only a single word escaped her mouth.

"Okay."

Morning opened her eyes and immediately flinched.

"Scared you, didn't I?"

A black tom towered over her, his eyes like chips of ice, humorless and cold. He clearly wasn't in a jovial mood that morning … was it still morning? She looked around, trying to determine the time. The shadow of the boulder had already left her, and she could feel the sun's rays pounding down on her from nearly every direction. No, it definitely wasn't sunrise anymore.

"You really need to stop sleeping in so much," the tom stated. "You know we have too much to do right now to let that comfort into our lives."

"And you need to loosen up a bit, Night," Morning replied, standing up and shaking the morning weariness from her bones. "It's not like our people need spiritual guidance every day. I can take the mornings off if I need to."

"You and I both know it's not that simple."

"It could be that simple," Morning responded.

A strange expression found its way onto Night's face, one of regret and amusement, of longing and of pain. "You and I both know that that's not true."

Morning sighed. "It doesn't have to be this way, you know? We can just end this farce, fade away into legend."

"But it does."

"It only does because you say that it is."

"It does because this is the responsibility that ancestors entrusted us with. Those cats out there – they're just as much our children as they were our father's, and his mother's before him. They're trusting us to guide them, to remain vigilant and protect them."

"You really do need to loosen up," Morning noted.

"This isn't a joke, sister."

"I know it isn't," Morning replied. "And I'm being completely serious now: you need to loosen up. You need to relax. As your prophet, I am telling you to relax."

"And as your brother, I am telling you that you're relaxing too much," Night replied.

"Oh, who am I to question your judgment?" Morning asked. "I only have lifetimes of experience compared to yours."

"And yet you still act like a kit sometimes."

"And you act far too old for your age, so I guess we're even."

Night sighed. "Do you think this is some sort of game?"

"Judging by the number of times you've given me this lecture, I'd wager that you might think it is."

"This is not a topic to be joked about," Night stated. "This might be common life for us, but to the rest of them, to all of those cats out there, it's faith. It's having faith in us – in you – to make the right decisions for us. Now tell me, is lying around all day going to help that?"

"Well, I'm standing up now, aren't I?"

"It's past sunhigh."

"You could've woken me."

"You were dreaming."

"And is that dreaming not helping me understand how to better lead these cats?"

"Not when it's taking away from your time actually leading these cats. Remembering past experiences, sure, can be useful, but it's definitely not as useful as actually being the leader that you need to be."

"All right, all right," Morning sighed. "I get it, I get it. I'm awake. We can work now."

Night's gaze seemed to soften at the sight of his victory, and he looked down, shifting from paw to paw. "Look, I get it," he began. "I know it's tough, having all of those memories in you, and I know it's hard, having all of us depending on you. It's just … there's always that risk of letting our guard down, of having days where we leave everything alone. If something were to happen … I'm not sure how I could live with myself if blood is shed that we could've stopped, if there was something that we let happen under our watch." He sighed, looking around. "But I know it can't be easy. I know it has to be stressful. If working today won't help build that better tomorrow … well, I guess there isn't much of a point, is there?"

"I can't believe it," Morning mock-gasped. "Are you … telling me to take the day off?"

"I'm saying that I'd understand it if you did," Night replied.

"Why the sudden change in heart?"

"I suppose …" Night paused, as if he were grasping for words. "I suppose it's because you were too stubborn to listen to my advice."

"Why, thank you."

"I still think that it'd be good for you to go out today, to mingle with your people, to watch for the coming storm, but … I … I think I would get it if you didn't." He turned around, his tail swishing behind him. "Do what you will," he concluded. "I'll go find us some food."

Morning watched him walk away, still standing there. She looked at the warm sand beneath her before again turning to the outside world. Out there, there were mouths to feed, thirsts to quench. There were quarrels to settle, fights to end. She looked again at the sand that she'd been lying in mere minutes prior and it suddenly felt much less appealing than it had before.

Will that really help get me where I want to be tomorrow? she asked herself, closing her eyes. Am I truly just shirking my duties, allowing time to pass me by? She shook her head. Damn you, Night, if this was just some ploy to guilt me into working …

She looked out at the far horizons, at the endless stretch of sand and earth before her. Yes, there was work to do, all right. She just needed to step forth and do it.

With only one glance back at the little nest beneath the stone, she turned and walked out into the light.

Pain. That was all Nightingale could feel at that moment. Pain.

Her muscles ached, crying out for a reprieve, a respite from this endless work. Her heart raced, her breaths shallow and faint. She gritted her teeth together, holding back the urge to cry out in frustration, to give in to the little thought that had taken nest in her mind – the thought to give up, to just lie down and let sweet, gentle sleep take her away. She wasn't sure how many times she'd run around this field of grass, sweeping through the rows of blades, dragging her useless leg behind her. She'd been doing it for a while, at least – out in the distance, she could see the fiery sun cast its faint glow across the horizon, paint the sky a dim red. Sunset was coming, she knew, but still she did not stop. Her legs cried out, shouting to her mind of how they were dying, of how they were going to collapse if she didn't give in to their demands. It would be to no avail, of course. Her stomach had given up on trying to get her to stop and eat a long time before, and she could barely even notice how dry her throat was, how weak her legs were, how tired she truly was.

Again and again, the thoughts had come. Those thoughts telling her again and again to just end right there, to stop – those thoughts saying that she'd done enough already, that her wounds would heal in time. But each time those thoughts came, each time they sought to make their dreams reality, she would think back to those flames, those flames that took away everything that she had ever known. She could remember the fear of it, the helplessness of it all, lying sprawled out on the ground, legs numb, vision blurry, as the fire consumed everything behind her. What had driven her to take that chance, to leap onto that blazing tree?

She remembered it well. Every detail of it was as clear as the moment she first sensed it. The fire was raging around her, tearing down everything in its path. If she stayed there, she would've died. That she knew. Survival instinct … that's what it was. The will to live. That's what drove her through that tree. That's what took away that leg forever, burning and destroying until there was nothing left but smoking flesh and bone.

But she couldn't live like this.

She couldn't live, needing someone to care for her every need. She couldn't live, knowing that she'd allowed nature to take away her life, her freedom, her happiness. No, the will to live still stirred deep within her, pushing her through this pain and suffering, driving her to keep on working, to climb that mountain and see what future lay beyond.

Is this getting me closer to where I want to be tomorrow? Nightingale asked herself, a smile forming deep within her, the first true smile since that fateful night all those days ago. Yes, yes, it is.

And in the distance, Sky stood there, watching her soar across the meadow, circling around that ancient willow. And in that moment, a smile broke across her face as she saw her friend return to life, break free of those chains that had held her down.

Good luck, Nightingale, she thought. May your path be free and happy.