I love you all ;v;

Thank you.

CHAPTER 62-Reborn from the Flames

Yellowfang was nowhere to be seen when I opened my eyes again.

I broke the surface of the Moonpool with a gasp and immediatley floundered over to the bank where I pulled myself out. The water was thick and churning like swamp mud, and it was cold. Freezing, to be exact, even though it was already Newleaf. I searched desperatley in it for a spark of life, a hint of its singing voice, anything to suggest that the Moonpool was still clinging onto its heartbeat.

There was nothing. Even the water, which had once been a clear, wonderful transculent sheen, had now been reduced to a deep and utter black. I flicked the heavy drops out of my fur and stared in mild wonder at my paws. I held them up to my face and felt the whiskers on my muzzle. My tail swished against the ground.

A deep and sudden sadness suddenly enveloped my heart as I gazed down at the Pool. The Pool had caressed me and sung sweetly to me, and it trusted me enough to allow me to hear the steady pulsing of its soul. Now, it was gone.

No, not quite. I could still sense a tiny sliver of its breath reaching out, urging me to save it. Its tiny voice was high and thin, as small as a mouse's squeak.

Help me, it said. Help me.

I leaned down and skimmed a paw over the surface, shivering at its bitterness. "I'll come back," I promised, and then reluctantly turned and padded away.

The fire that had devastated the forest still left the trees scorched and bare. Not a single green leaf grew on the ground or the branches. Not one bird twittered or flit through the clouds.

The sky was an ashen grey. The ground was charred and black. It looked as if a tornado had ripped the place apart and scattered the remains everywhere. It looked utterly and completely lost.

I crouched low to the ground and skirted a few skeletal bushes, hoping that I wouldn't be seen. Where did everyone go?

Did they die? Had I come too late?

Tucking my worries at the back of my head, I dashed over to the ThunderClan camp, or what had remained of it. Ashes and burnt twigs were scattered everywhere, the aftermath of the battle. No one was there. It almost seemed that I was the only living being in the entire area of the Lake. I stuck my head into Jayfeather's den, but the herbs were reduced to nothing but cinders and his scent was so stale that I could hardly detect it.

I passed the warriors den, and on a sudden impulse, peered inside. Most of the moss nests were intact and only singed around the edges. I spotted mine in the farthest corner, and Snowstorm's right next to it. Quickly turning away, I dashed back out again.

Now in desperation, I sprinted as fast as I could past the border to ShadowClan. The pine trees were stripped of their bark and needles and now stood, thin and naked, among the ashen skies.

Not a single cat was there, either.

It was a ghost town.

My animal instinct detected someone watching me among the trees and I unsheathed my claws, my eyes hardening. Letting out a furious yowl, I kicked my legs against the ground and sprang, my front claws outstretched and ready to fight.

The enemy hissed in surprise as I bowled him over flat on his back and planted a firm paw on his chest, effectively pinning him down. I snarled.

His amber eyes widened and my breath hitched. I let go and shrank back, my ears flattened and disbelieving.

I mewed breathlessly, "Dewstep?"

"Shadefrost?"

He leaned forward and sniffed me cautiously. "But...you're supposed to be dead."

He was bone-thin and his grey fur was ragged and tangled. New scars criss-crossed his pelt, the scratches in various stages of healing. I could count every one of his ribs, but the most haunting thing was his eyes. They were pale and dead, having bore witness to numerous unspeakable horrors and things that a cat shouldn't have seen. He lived but did not live, breathed but did not breathe, dead yet alive at the same time, a walking skeleton, a haunting ghost, a shell of his former self.

But he was still Dewstep. He was still the same tom who had led me through my warrior life all those moons ago.

We stood staring at each other in silence, as those few weeks of my absence had felt like years. This tom might as well be a stranger, but those empty, amber eyes were still warm and familiar. We stepped closer and nuzzled each other, welcoming me back home.

"You're alive," he said, over and over again. "Thank StarClan, you're alive."

I asked worriedly, "Where's everyone else?"

Just then, a fox stepped out from the charred remains of the undergrowth, a scrawny rabbit dangling from her jaws. My bristling fur relaxed when I realized who it was.

She had grown so much during these few weeks. From appearance alone, it was next to impossible to tell her apart from the other foxes, but I knew from her calm eyes that this was Ember.

Her black-tipped ears flicked forward in surprise and then barely concealed excitement when she saw me, and with a joyful yip, she pounced and bowled me to the ground, licking every inch of my face in playfulness like a dog.

She had grown so much, but she was still the same Ember that I knew. I planted a small lick on her black nose.

"I thought...but...you're supposed to be dead," she said, blinking in confusion. She tipped her head to one side, studying me, and for a second she must have thought that I was a ghost.

"Oh," I said, laughing. "I'm very much alive. Are you doing fine?"

And I immediatley knew that it was a stupid question to ask.

She hung her head and scuffled her paws in the dust.

Dewstep gave his chest fur a couple of casual licks, before he looked up and meowed grimly, "A lot of cats have died in these past few weeks. Way too many. The bodies piled up until they almost reached the tops of the trees." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His ears twitched uncertainly.

I wrapped my tail around his shoulders, hearing the tremble in his voice.

"But the Clans," he rasped.

I asked anxiously, "Are they still alive? Where are they?"

"There weren't a lot of survivors. Only a couple dozen from each Clan. The foxes took them down in their tunnels, for slaves, I think, or prisoners and toys. I don't know much else, since I've never been Down There."

"They haven't catched us yet," Ember said. "We're running for our lives. If they found us, they would kill us on sight." If the situation wasn't so dire, I would've admired how fast her tongue had improved on the cat language.

Dewstep mewed quietly, "Everyone we know is trapped in those tunnels, and there's nothing Ember and I can do. There's practically a whole population of foxes and dogs and badgers living there."

He tipped his head up to look at the trees and I followed his gaze. His voice sounded so mournful. "That's why," he said, "I came back here one last time. Just to see the Lake and the dens and the trees one last time before Ember and I leave for good."

I furrowed my brow. "You're leaving?"

"Yes. There's nothing more I can do. It's too risky in the forest now, and there's hardly any prey. Even now, I can't guarantee that there's no one listening to us talk. The rats are Fang's spies. They could be hiding in the shadows right now, their ears pricked, listening for any tidbits to report to their leader. It's not safe here anymore."

I could hardly believe what he was saying. "So...so you're just giving up, just like that?"

Ember rounded on me and bared her teeth and I cringed, expecting her to snap and attack me. But Dewstep laid a gentle tail on her shoulder and she caught herself.

Her large eyes darkened and she whimpered softly. "When you fell off that cliff, we all thought that you had actually died. All of our hopes were gone. Fang and his pack rounded up all of the remaining cats and forced them down to the tunnels, but Dewstep and I slipped away and ran off. Without you, that was the only thing we could do. To run. And that's what we did, we ran for weeks, we hid and we scavenged and we tried to remember. We lingered around the Lake for as long as we could, and then one day we decided that it was too dangerous for us here. There's nothing left of the Clans. Fang has buried it all. We only hoped that we would be able to make a safe journey and maybe start a new colony in a Twolegplace."

"Oh, Ember," I said, and I gathered them both into a tight hug, wounding my long tail against them and squeezing them tight. Their muscles were tense and didn't relax no matter how tightly I hugged them.

I straightened up and meowed, "But I'm here now. You don't have to run any longer. I will set things right again."

Dewstep flattened his ears and hissed, "That's what you always say. But your words didn't do much, did it?"

"Maybe not, but Fang hasn't won yet. As long as I'm still here, he will never win. The Clans are still alive, and they always will be."

I pressed my forehead against his. "You rest now, just rest. You're all tired. Leave it all to me."

"Snowstorm," he mumbled under his breath. I swiveled my ears but kept my mouth set in a grim line.

"Snowstorm," he said again, louder. "You still want to see him, don't you?"

My brown eyes widened in astonishment. A small grin turned the corners of my mouth. "What do you mean? Is he still alive?"

I spun around, my tail waving in excitement, as if he would pad into the clearing right now.

Ember placed a soft paw on my shoulder and I suddenly knew. I knew.

They led me past the charcoal forest and the battered remains of the camp. They led me through the brittle skeletons of black bushes, the twigs snapping under our paws, past the shriveled Sky Oak and the banks of the ashen Lake.

The led me to the meadow, where once upon a time, a long, long time ago, tulips bobbed to the tune of the wind and the sweet, lush grass teemed with life, where fireflies and crickets chirped their neverending songs that spoke of eternity and, if you listened hard enough, you could hear the stars sing. Once upon a time, if you rubbed a dandelion on your chin and it left behind yellow pollen, you were in love.

But that could have been nothing but a fairy tale. Now, it looked like a dead, scorched barren wasteland where nothing grew. The grass was gone along with the tulips. The cicadas and crickets had long fled. And the sky was empty except for the tide of dark grey clouds.

I came across a plot of land, and it looked as if someone had recently been digging there. A small silver boulder acted as a marker.

I stood there and felt the wind ruffle my fur and waft the scent of melancholy all around me. Snowstorm always told me that the wind blew in from the ocean and I tried to catch the scent of salt and fish and beaches. He used to say a lot of things. I did too.

We were supposed to stay together, side-by-side, hunt together, live together, have kits, have a family, and now, as I stood over his grave, I thought about how so much had changed and how much I'd seen and grown, but that no matter how long time passed us by, he will still be Snowstorm. The Lake will flood its banks one day and rain will pour down from the sky, but my love for him wouldn't change at all.

We were one, the same, almost the same cat, and time and time again, I often curled up on my moss in the warriors den and spot the cold nest right next to me, and realized how I often went to bed half full and yet still half empty at the same time.

"I'm not good at giving speeches," I said, out loud. "And there's nothing much to say. But it's kind of funny, how we met each other and how we became friends and into something more. We will always be opposites: you were born in the forest and I in the city, you were a cat and I was something else, your pelt was white and mine is black. But opposites attract, they say. We are yin and yang, and we always will be."

"I know," I told him. "You won't understand what I'm talking about. But that's alright. It's always alright."

I looked up at the sky, at the ever churning, ever moving stormy sky. Although not a drop fell from the clouds, the scent of rain hung heavily around them. They seemed to be waiting for just the right moment to unleash their fury upon the earth.

And now, I had something to fight for. I had something to protect.

Dewstep blinked. "What are you going to do now?"

Heaving myself to my paws, I skimmed my winding tail along the ground. "What I've come here to do," I answered. "I'm going to save the Clans."

Ember growled, "That's suicidal. You don't have any idea how strong the pack is. You'll get yourself killed!"

"Ember," I mewed, "There are some things in life that are worth dying for. The Clans are my treasure. They have walked by my side, talked with me, laughed with me, and supported me when I felt weighted down. They are absolutely priceless. Once you find something you have to protect, protect it with both arms and never let go. If I abandon them after all they've done for me, what kind of a warrior would I be?"

Dewstep flicked his ears and stared down at Snowstorm's grave. "Then I'll come with you," he murmured. "I have a treasure too. It's ThunderClan." He blinked. "And you. You were the greatest friend I could have ever asked for."

We touched noses. "Thank you," I purred.

OooOOOOoooooOoOooooOOOoOooOooOOooO

Third Person POV

Ember watched as the two cats padded away. Her brow furrowed, as she didn't know what to think or say. She was a fox, yet why did she feel loyal to the cats? Shouldn't she be fighting on Fang's side?

At that moment, it seemed certain that Fang's pack would win. Who were these two cats, who could stride up to the tunnels with so much courage, with so much dignity? They were very certain to get themselves killed.

What is my treasure? she asked herself. Shadefrost said to protect her treasure with both arms and to never let go. Her mother was dead, her sister wasn't her sister anymore, so what was left of her life to live for?

And yet, I'm still alive. I do have a treasure. It's right there in front of me. I have something to protect, Ember realized. She quickly sprinted toward them and yipped to let them slow down. They stopped and turned and allowed her to catch up, and together, the three of them continued on their way, their faces grim and unflinching.

OoOooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOooOOOOOOoo

Ever since Shadefrost had fallen of the cliff and had supposedly died, the foxes and rats and badgers and dogs celebrated with echoing yips and howls that pierced the sky and could make the hairs on the back of a neck prickle. Only the Darklings remained silent. They slipped away and melted into the shadows, for their goal had not yet been reached.

Shadefrost was dead, the foxes said. Their greatest enemy had been vanquished. All hail the mighty Fang, who had continued on Sunfire's legacy and who will now make the foxes stand tall and strong again!

With the cats now their underdogs, they had nothing left to fear. And yet, they couldn't shake off the echoes of that black cat, couldn't forget the color of her pelt and the power that she had held. The foxes told stories to their pups, old, wicked stories of the cat that almost led to their downfall.

Sit still, little ones, the mother foxes said, curled up around their kits. I must tell you of the tale of Shadefrost, the black tiger with an even darker heart. She once tried to murder Fang. Hush now. I know that Fang is strong and all-powerful, but even the wolves have their enemies. Shadefrost was made out of nothing but smog and smoke, and she walked a path of devastation, striking terror among the weaker creatures. Her heart was nothing but an empty stone, and with one glare of her fire-red eyes, she could kill a badger. She seeks out naughty young pups and gobbles them up. That's what happened to an unfortunate soul named Ember. Yes, yes, I know that Fang killed Shadefrost already, but who knows, if her vengeful ghost still haunts this place.

Those were the stories the foxes told.

The time had come for the shadows to deepen and conquer, for the foxes to stand tall and reign with power over the Lake. But little did the foxes know, that a cat was coming back from the dead, a cat that they very much feared. For this was the cat who was as dark as the night, yet shone brighter than the heart of the sun, and who walked on a path of flames. And she was the one who could conquer mountains, who could build towers, who could save great civilizations, and she was the only cat who could save all five of the Clans from destruction. The end was near.