Chapter 14
It rained in the mountains last night, where a single spirit rests at the summit.
Aspenpaw returned to camp late that day, when orange waves streamlined the peaks of buildings and the clouds were shot through with their light, turning pink before soon to disappear entirely in the coming shades of the night.
Deya had sat with him for only a few solidary moments before she claimed to have work assigned to her.
They had spoken just a couple words to one another once Apollo had left with the stranger, but it still felt wonderful to feel his pelt against her's, exchanging what heat there was to give the other.
Once she had gone, Aspenpaw had continued to lay on the cracked soil, running his paws across dents and tiny ravines, spiraling dust into the air and watching it sprinkle back down, as if bound to this barren earth.
Eventually, when he grew tired of sneezing on specks of dirt passing through his sinuses, Aspenpaw had stalked the sward, ostensibly to hunt for birds in the gorse, but only truly surveying the land, a watchful eye as pigeons and sparrows scavenged in what few plants still existed here.
It was dusk now, and Aspenpaw was feeling the day.
His body was sore, and his eyes shut nonconsensually all the way back; it had been a while since he had done much in the way of exercise.
He tripped frequently but never found anger in his clumsiness; he was just thankful that his tiredness made him forget about everything for a little while.
The thunderpath was as desolate as always, so Aspenpaw took a second to gawk at its expanse.
Several extensions protruded off from it towards the heart of the city, but in either direction, the thunderpath continued on until Aspenpaw's eyes gave out on him.
He still ran across it in a panic, and didn't stop until he reached the inside of the building, more scared of spies than he was of monsters.
There was a single draft that streamed through the structure, stretching from the very top down the tiny, distantly spaced steps and out through a hole in the wall that had been barricaded heavily, but still showed light.
There was no real entrance into the building, as if nobody had ever been meant to find their way inside.
Two floors separated Aspenpaw from the roof; dark, condensed caverns which he had yet to explore, as Apollo insisted that the commune all sleep together where they could keep a watchful eye out for a counter-invasion, though it was only today that anybody outside of the seven of them had arrived.
The stranger sat halfway in and out of a nest, staring off into the world surrounding, an untouched rabbit laid by his paws.
Apollo was beside him, though neither spoke now words to the other, and she only offered him a strange glance that was never reciprocated.
Aspenpaw felt a stab of disappointment as he looked around.
Deya was nowhere to be seen.
Rese was asleep in her nest where she spent most of her time.
Despite the large she-cat's strength, she had yet to see much improvement of her injuries, and Aspenpaw wondered if she perhaps hadn't let Roco properly treat her.
Aspenpaw collapsed onto his nest a little too loud, his eyes falling shut with his impact.
Apollo said something just as his mind closed off and Aspenpaw sunk into the tangled, dry moss of his nest like it was a cloud.
He only had a small dream, something bizarre and far away, before he awoke.
Somebody he knew had been there, though he couldn't quite put face or color to who it was, and there had been a cold fire below his paws wherever he walked.
It was still the middle of the night as Aspenpaw shivered against the haunting touch of the wind, fur rising and falling like bird wings.
It was awfully humid, the temperature where mosquitos began to whizz through the open air after their moons of absence.
Aspenpaw had forgotten what mosquitos sounded like.
The glow of the night was heavy, distilled by only a few translucent clouds.
It was a lot harder to see the stars in the city, but the moon was still triumphant over all.
Aspenpaw rose, unsatisfied with the short time that he had had to rejuvenate his strength, and popped his bones into place with a stretch, already getting the feeling he would be unable to get any more sleep tonight.
He was completely disorganized, with thoughts flying by one after another, so he slipped into the black of the building and down out through the shielded entrance.
It had been a couple days since the last of the stench of death filled this narrow-way, but Aspenpaw was sure that he would never stop smelling it.
Remembering the gruesome slaughter only drove him further away, and though he only intended to sit out by the thunderpath and wait to see if any monsters came by, he quickly found his paws touching the cold surface and skidding across it like a deer on ice.
The dead field was shining in the night, shadows sprawled out in webs over the cracks in the earth.
It was like another dream, completely still but for the trembling of the trees on the horizon line.
Aspenpaw watched them for a moment, suddenly longing for a rural setting again.
He hadn't thought much of it, as his most recent memories of the forest left a horrible feeling in all of his body, but he did miss being out in wide spaces, able to be alone and without fear.
But he wasn't quite alone, as he noticed a figure far off, sitting on a blister-mound, face to the treeline.
Aspenpaw decided to approach, feeling like the figure had called him and was waiting for his arrival.
It was, of course, the stranger, humming another song here all alone, as if unable to be through the night surrounded by companions.
His voice was raw in the wind, lowing and heightening with the power of the breeze.
There were no words to this song, but the notes that he sang created a story to their own.
A cat was lying somewhere in a trench, impaled on a spike that rose from the earth like a willow tree.
Death refused to come, and the cat sat with the pain searing through their body, with only the thought of lying here, never moving from this spot.
The cat knew that they could not die, they didn't even bleed though the spike's tip was enveloped by air, but the pain was severe, unlike anything that the living could ever dream of.
Was this still life if there could be no death at the end of it?
The cat felt neither alive or dead, and stayed there for some time.
Nobody ever came, and neither did rest of any sort.
The pain never dulled, but the cat stayed, afraid of how much it would hurt to try to break free.
Still nobody came, and even the birds gave up on their songs and flew away, seeking shelter from the approaching cold season.
The cat thought of who they were, the memories that remained, and searched through traumas and tender moments that they had forgotten, seeking to find what it meant to be alive, and if they really were.
There were many faces which had come and gone, whether in passing or through so many waking moments.
Some were dead, some were living, but the cat remembered each and every one of them, and how they spent their lives paying the costs which were forced upon them, saving only the precious few morsels for themselves.
Yet they all kept hope for a future until the end; they didn't need to be there to see it, didn't need to live forever.
The will of the living defined who they were, and meant that even when their own bodies disappeared into sunken earth, their will would continue on, even until they were forgotten by every being which still remains.
The cat shifted in their cage, sending immeasurable pain through their every inch.
Then they breathed a single time, then snapped the spike in half.
The pain was unbearable, and they screamed to the stars.
They were alive.
The stranger finished his song and let the wind whirl around him.
Aspenpaw began to approach, drawn in like a fox to a trap.
The stranger sat idly, his eyes glazing the trees with a gentle touch, and his voice came out just as softly once Aspenpaw was in range to hear it, "Hello, friend, I'm glad we're company. Seems a harsh rain tonight,"
"Does it?" Aspenpaw asked, not remembering exactly what he wanted to say to the stranger, his ears still hearing the echo of his song.
The stranger smiled gleefully and turned his head to Aspenpaw,
"Well, somewhere, at least, it is. Awfully warm here. Your leader made it direct your stature of names, but I think to ask regardless," Without actually speaking the question he referred to, the stranger allowed space for Aspenpaw to answer,
"I'm As,"
"What's it short for?" Aspenpaw stammered, thinking that the stranger had completely seen through him, and he quickly answered, "Aspen,"
"That's a good name; I've not heard it, I don't think. I'll try to think of you when I pass them by, I don't usually remember names very well otherwise,"
"What about you?" Aspenpaw sat down, feeling like this might be a long conversation,
"I'm the Rider. It's not much of a name, but it's what I've got attached to me,"
"How long have you been a wanderer?" The arrival of the Rider had made Aspenpaw think about where he would go if the commune was defeated, if there was nowhere else in the city for him to go,
"A long time. Long, long time. I've been over tarmac and chip-tracks that no longer exist. I've walked through ash-skies and frosted forests, and over mountains which have now crumbled to the sea,"
"Have you ever been to the forest of the four clans?" Aspenpaw was genuinely curious about the Rider's travels, and wondering if it was maybe his destiny to become a rolling stone as well,
"That's where you're from?"
"Around there," The Rider glanced back into the trees for just a moment, but answered his face towards Aspenpaw,
"That's where I'm heading," Aspenpaw felt shivers course through his legs, and he alleviated the weight onto the dark, sparsely foliated earth. The Rider knelt down as well,
"Why are you going there?" Aspenpaw asked, forgetting that the Rider had already vaguely answered that question to Apollo.
He answered with a bit more this time however,
"Never been. There're a couple of things that I'm invested in, and a couple of cats I want to meet,"
"Who?"
"Nobody you know well, I hope," Aspenpaw realized that if it was somebody he knew who this strange cat had come all this way to see, he wouldn't want to know, "And what about you? What's your reason for coming here?" The Rider asked Aspenpaw a question that he wasn't competent to answer,
"I just couldn't stay there," He replied simply, no longer looking his companion in the face. A wind blew against his body and ruffled his fur, becoming momentarily blinded by it,
"Did you want to go? Or were you forced from your den?"
"I don't know," Aspenpaw still didn't look at the stranger, nor did he move a single muscle, only straining to hear whatever the Rider's next words would be, which came a few moments later,
"Had the same exchange with a cat out on a wharf as she was dying, cut down by hunger and freeze. Looked to me with these huge moons in her eyes, and the last thing she said to me was, 'I don't know,' Hope you can meet some fate other than hers,"
Aspenpaw had never seriously considered death until now, not his own, at least.
It had hung over his head that if he were caught by the clan cats, he would have been executed, but at that time, his mind strayed far more of simply running for the sake of getting away from everybody, even if he could almost never deal with the loneliness.
It really wasn't that long ago that he had been fighting through every night in the woods of Thunderclan and Shadowclan, but it felt like years had passed, like the next time he saw his reflection, his fur could have all turned white by now.
The stranger crept down further and looked in Aspenpaw's eyes, visually guiding him back so that he could have his full attention as he began to speak again, "You look like you've been alone your whole life,"
"I have," The Rider smiled, just a small bit, before he responded,
"You're not alone. I doubt that cat'd've stayed back with you if she didn't care about you,"
He was talking about Deya, of course.
Aspenpaw never liked to form strong opinions on cats, since the cats he had the strongest emotions connected to were all gone now, but he did like Deya.
She was truthful with him, and they seemed to do what they could to understand one another, even if it was somewhat distant.
Aspenpaw was averse to calling her a friend, even if that's what he wanted to.
He was suddenly afraid that she was putting on a front to pity him, or use him in some way.
He just couldn't believe that anybody would like him,
"Your mind is a cold temptation," The Rider suddenly broke into his thoughts, "See the world and interact with it truthfully; don't leave that up to your imagination, it'll never align,"
Aspenpaw put to rest his dark daydreams as he was reassured by the Rider, and he just barely got out the words,
"Thank you,"
"My offer is still here,"
"I'll be okay,"
"This night is young and alive with animation. Don't waste it away,"
Aspenpaw felt that the conversation was over and started to back away, looking up into the night sky, the stars almost slipping and dancing along with the wind.
He turned around and the Rider didn't speak another word.
He started back the way he came, not wanting to get lost in the aroma of smoke and grim from the city; his nose was hardly of any use here.
Every night was claustrophobic between that and the high roof where his paws found themselves.
Even looking at the trees now, all he could think about was how heart-pounding it would feel to be clinging to one of their branches.
A woollybear had hitched onto Aspenpaw's leg, climbing without issue, and he gently swiped it off, not wishing to harm one of the only insects still living in this field.
He continued moving along, now out of view from where he had previously been sitting, a spot devoid of company.
From the thoughts of the conversation, he felt a sudden urge to be with Deya.
He wanted to know his compatriots better, her, Aranyer, Roco, and maybe Ledivier if she survived.
His previous dark fantasy of her death was now absent from his mind.
But maybe even still these were selfish thoughts.
Aspenpaw cut himself off, not letting his imagination reel him further, and instead, he focused on the sights in front of him, which soon became familiar.
As he neared the commune's base, another figure was heading in his direction.
He paused, considering the situation, as the other cat moved cautiously in, until suddenly speeding up as recognition struck both of them, "Heya, tom," Aranyer called softly,
"Hi, Aranyer," Aspenpaw returned, the name rolling strangely off his tongue, and his desires for companionship swiftly evaporated as he was paralyzed with anxiety.
He had never been scared to talk to cats when Acornpaw was alive.
He had always had someone to fall back on before, always somebody to talk with.
But now, he had survived or abandoned all those cats who may have once loved him, and he feared that a bad impression now would leave him completely alone.
Apollo already told him to leave, if he upset many of the others he had no doubt that she would enforce her decision.
Aranyer was about in front of him now, and she spoke casually to him like an acquaintance, "Come help me a minute,"
"What with?" She had already blown past him, striding towards the trees, so he matched her pace, seemingly having already decided to give his service,
"Roco needed some stuff from the wood, marigold; 'a ton of it,' she said,"
"Why don't we all move out here then, if there are herbs we need? Nobody'd find us in there,"
"I don't wanna know where you came from, tom, but it's a lot safer up on that roof, least 'til we can get moving again," There was an odd bitterness to Aranyer's voice when she spoke of moving,
"Do you think that'll be soon?" Aspenpaw prodded as they reached the overcast of the small forest,
"Reckon, we stayed here far too long,"
"Where will we go?"
"Don't know. Wherever Apollo takes us," Aspenpaw was unsatisfied by the answer,
"Don't we deserve the right to know where we're being led? Blindly trusting a single leader means that we'll all suffer for just one mistake," He recited exactly the moral of an old kit's tale, used to explain why power in the clans was split between the leader, deputy, and Medicine Cats,
"She's never led us astray before," Aranyer rebutted, her agitation showing in the corners of her lips,
"She led us into that battle!" Aspenpaw couldn't stop his anger was bubbling as their conversation quickly turned aggressive,
"And we won!" Aranyer snapped back, even further amplified, "We drove out your wretched brothers and we survived!"
The comparison of Aspenpaw to those toms they had fought drove him back.
Aranyer truly only viewed him as an enemy, "Get out of here, you rat! I don't want your help!"
Aspenpaw stopped himself short of insulting her back, and instead, fled from the trees, keeping his head up high so that Aranyer wouldn't see how much her words had cut him.
He didn't stop until he was sure he was out of sight and sound, and loudly cursed himself over the interaction, already regretting every word he had spoken.
This was the angriest he had ever seen Aranyer, and now, at least half the commune was avidly against him, with Roco biased to take Aranyer's side.
They would be moving soon, but Aspenpaw didn't know whether or not he would be joining them anymore.
He stayed out in the field that night, feeling much colder than he ever had since last leaf-bare, and only with the companion of dust and the view of the city in the distance, small enough to crush between his paws.
Until I write again,
-Gojira