Chapter 22

She moves with her skin to be alive.

"Everything we were,"

Aspenpaw finally took a bite of the red slice of meat that sat on the dusty banks of the dirty river.

There were just a couple cats still enamored by his presence, watching over him while the rest went about their days.

The old black tom had sat beside him all the time and tried to engage with Aspenpaw, asking him questions about where he came from and where he was heading.

Aspenpaw had remained mostly silent; it was only that his hunger was so painful that he bent down to the food now.

The euphoria was gone, and the depression came back stronger than ever.

Aspenpaw didn't want to eat, though his body forced him. He didn't want anybody around him, but didn't have the motivation to leave.

He didn't want to do anything, but the wind still blew his fur and his body still breathed.

The world was waiting for him to pick himself up, so why keep trying?

"There ya're, son," The tom praised him for taking just a single bite of food, and it made Aspenpaw want to hack,

"Do ya think he's cold?" Some she-cat asked,

"Go get a cloth," The tom replied, and the she-cat didn't argue with him.

The other cat still there with them, a young she-cat, spoke up and said, "Maybe 'e's jus' a bit mad. This-"

"I'm fine!" Aspenpaw shouted, causing both cats to recoil a bit.

He bent back down, but just rested his nose in front of the meat.

After a few bites, he had no appetite.

The she-cat who had gone returned and cautiously padded up to Aspenpaw, laying a small, soft sheet of material on his back.

It was no replacement for the heat of another's body. He missed Deya.

He thought about the night she had told him about her brother.

She had been so brave to be so vulnerable with him, a favor he had been unable to return, though his story wouldn't have been received so well.

It made him remember earlier that night, just a few days ago now, but it felt like so long.

It had been nice that the commune had let down their guards to have a night of celebration, but it seemed to Aspenpaw that there would always be walls between them.

He longed for the closeness that he had felt with his friends in the clans, how Rustheart had brought so many cats together to form something more than just any of their single clans.

Suddenly, it struck it.

He remembered one of the names that Aranyer had listed as one of the commune leaders, "Aoiri,"

He noticed that he was alone; the cats who had been trying to take care of him had left.

Aspenpaw tried to get up, but his hunger was so great that it cramped his stomach like claws running through his flesh.

He reluctantly lied back down and started taking small bites of the chewy meat in front of him, repeating the name over and over in a whisper.

He wasn't sure if it was safe to ask around for directions, but he hoped that somebody here would be able to help.

Aspenpaw looked out into the river again.

There was almost no movement on its surface, and hardly any sky reflected off of it.

It really was filthy the longer Aspenpaw looked at it, and it stabbed him like death to realize that.

The moment he had enough strength to move, Aspenpaw averted his eyes from the waters and went to find help in the huddled mass of cats.

One of them, the old tom who had found Aspenpaw in the first place, was telling a story to similarly ragged onlookers.

He slowed down to listen, but didn't stop to hear more than a few hard to understand words.

Aspenpaw crept along the top of the ditch as if he were looking into another world below.

These cats didn't seem to have any home, if he correctly inferred what the old tom had said to him, and Aspenpaw could see nothing that would indicate that there was life here, no food, no shelter, and only other derelicts to keep company with.

Most of the cats here were toms, and most of the she-cats were beside them, but Aspenpaw spotted one older she-cat over by a couple of bushes, weaving tendril between to create sometime akin to a nest.

He approached her cautiously, but she was too tied to her work to notice him, so he announced himself quietly,

"Hello," Though he hadn't really expected it, her ears were sharp, and she turned around to greet him, a sparkle in her eyes,

"Hello there, deary! Did you lose yer home too?" The she-cat's white fur disguised the gray hairs on her face, but the creases in her cheeks and neck, and the lack of muscle on her legs and chest betrayed to Aspenpaw that she may be the oldest cat he had ever seen,

"No, no, I just, I'm looking-" Aspenpaw felt flustered under her sharp gaze.

He hadn't met anybody who had greeted him so cheerily in the city yet, and it caught him off guard to not feel that striking tension he had become accustomed to,

"Have ya lost yer way? It's gonna rain soon, son. Be a shame to be lost out in the wetlands," She had a smile on her face that made Aspenpaw momentarily relax.

A storm might give him some time to think over how he planned to return to the commune, if he could ever find them.

It didn't seem like there would be a rush to ask for directions now, so instead, Aspenpaw offered his assistance, "Could I help?"

"Oh, you're a darlin'. Come here," Aspenpaw obliged and stepped up to the bushes.

The tendril and moss which she had been laying above was stretched most of the way from one side to the other, so there wasn't much more that could be done.

Nonetheless, the old she-cat still happily accepted his help, "It's not much, but it'll be home for now,"

She sighed and reached back up to thread a tendril through the thorn branches,

"What happened to everyone?" Aspenpaw asked in earnest,

"Yer from far away," He nodded, and the she-cat explained, "There's a war goin' on 'round here, dear. It weren't safe fer us to stay in our homes. If y'ain't fightin' on one o' their sides, yer an enemy to both. So we're weatherin' it out here 'til they get tired,"

"What if the fighting doesn't stop," A grim look appeared on the she-cats face, like it was a reality she didn't wish to face,

"It'll stop, son," She spoke confidently, though Aspenpaw couldn't believe her, "Charlie ain't got half the soldiers Jean does,"

"Why are they fighting?"

Aspenpaw had never really known the politics of the city, everybody only spoke about it so vaguely when they did, and nothing that Apollo had told him, nor Deya or Jingo, had created much of any story in his mind as to what was going on.

The old she-cat shot him a questioning glance, "You must really be from far away if yer askin' me. If ya wanna know what I think, there ain't no difference 'tween those two toms. Jean rules this city; his family has for many years,"

Aspenpaw sat down, finished with the weaving, to listen to the history, "Life was perfectly fine under his father, and his father before him, but Jean was just a kit when he became aire, still is now. He's only king now 'cause his brother, bless his soul, he had his own callin',"

The she-cat didn't seem to realize how much of a trance she was in as she spoke, as if she were reliving the moments as they happened, "Just a moon after his father died, Jean upped the army and forced every family to offer tributes of prey twice a moon to feed them. We haven't got none enemies 'round here 'side from the stray car and twoleg, and he certainly wasn't protecting us from them. He sent his soldiers 'round to, 'maintain security,' but all they'd ever do was pick fights an' blame it on us. The second he got a whiff of anyone wishin' injury on him, he created a mandate so that all educated toms must 'come domins for some time, an' half o' his shes must be given to Jean so that his family can save face,"

Aspenpaw wondered for a moment about Di. Perhaps he had never wanted to be a domin, and had been forced into it by Jean's decrees, "He started makin' these deals with some shady characters. Lot of the old advisors and dukes and generals disappeared and got replaced by these nobodies,"

Aspenpaw was enthralled by the story and was inclined to believe it, given what he had seen of the brutality of Jean's army, "One of 'em they called Charlie. Don't know nothin' 'bout who he was before Jean put him as the head commander or somethin' for his army. Would you care for somethin' to eat, dear?" The she-cat suddenly asked, causing Aspenpaw to tense up a bit.

He reasoned that she was just being polite, and despite how he knew there couldn't be much prey around here, the pain in his stomach forced him to swallow his pride and quietly mumble, "Yes. Thank you,"

The she-cat just nodded and peeled away into one of the bushes, from where she pulled a vole.

Aspenpaw didn't want to feel greedy, but he had wished she had a fish to give him instead.

He hadn't eaten any fish since he became a loner, a murderer,

"Spring is well on its way!" The she-cat said hopefully, referring to the plump size of the catch she said before him.

Aspenpaw took it graciously, muttering another "Thank you" to her, before asking, "Could you tell me about Charlie?"

"Oh, alright," The she-cat returned reluctantly, but restarted where she left off in her story, "Charlie is just as power-hungry of a tom as Jean is, but a lot more cunnin' an' sharp. It must've only been 'bout two moons he's workin' for Jean that he rebelled. Must be a powerful speaker too, 'cause he convinced quite a load of cats, both thems in the army and us commoners, promising that shes would be distributed to every family that fought on his behalf, and a return to dignity after what many say Jean was a blasphemous leader,"

Aspenpaw felt his lip curl and muscles tense at the idea of she-cats being used as trade for loyalty.

It just seemed so wrong, so strange that a cat could enslave another, and yet it was spoken of as simply a fact of life by most of the cats he had met outside the communes, "He made a public stand against Jean once he thought he had enough cats, but as I understand it, many of the soldiers in Jean's army were still loyal to him over anythin', so they attacked. I heard that Charlie fought off ten cats on his own to get away and only lost a single eye,"

Aspenpaw shuttered, remembering similar sights he had seen in battles, "So all Charlie's forces regrouped an' they been fightin' ever since,"

"How long has it been?" Aspenpaw asked,

"Oh, ya lose track during wartime," was all the old she-cat offered to one of Aspenpaw's most biting questions.

He didn't push it further, and focused on finishing the vole.

It didn't feel like the right time to ask about finding the communes.

Aspenpaw was still suspicious of the old cat's allegiance, despite her malign comments regarding the two major war parties.

A force reckoned the grass, and Aspenpaw looked over to see the old tom from earlier padding towards them, a carefree look on his worn face.

There were a plenty of scars on his face and chest, somewhat like Deya, but none of them seemed to slow him down,

"She fixed ya right, din't she?" He laughed and stretched his paws out painfully.

The she-cat greeted him with a quip, "They get sick o' yer stories?"

"Sometimes stories must end, dear. Have ya finished the preparations?"

"Sure have, help from our friend 'ere," She rested her tail on Aspenpaw's shoulder, causing him to shiver,

"Yer from out of the city then, yeah?" The tom asked Aspenpaw. He nodded, swallowing the final bite of food and laying the bones lined neatly up against one another. He decided to lay himself out in the open and asked bluntly,

"Do you know where I could find a cat named Aoiri?" Both cats looked puzzled for a moment, until the tom said,

"That's a shes' name, ain't it? I don't know 'er. Is she one of 'em commune leaders? Must be, if ya know 'er by name,"

Aspenpaw was shocked that he knew of the communes, which supposedly acted in secret, but the look on the old she-cat's face told him that he shouldn't have said that.

Aspenpaw, however, confirmed his suspicions with a nod and the mood changed instantly.

The she-cat looked around for eavesdroppers.

The tom looked to her with huge, serious round eyes and said, "Ya've gotta take 'em to Hawker,"

"But the storm-"

"It won't storm for a good time now. I don't wanna keep 'em around if he's fightin' with them,"

"Alright," The she-cat agreed, without Aspenpaw being able to say a word,

"Sorry, little one, we've had 'nough hell come on us," The tom said to Aspenpaw, "You'll get where ya need to be goin',"

The tension between the three of them was strange, but Aspenpaw still forced himself to mutter, "Thank you," to the both of them.

All three cats remained motionless for some time, until the old tom finally said, "You two'd better be off now if ya wanna make it back 'fore it storms,"

The she-cat nodded and Aspenpaw rose to his paws, relieved when he felt the open air around him again.

It wasn't a particularly long hike, relative to the other trails Aspenpaw had endured, but it was made harder than most by his fatigue, only tolerable because of the opportunity to find his way back to the commune.

He could rest when everything was settled.

The old she-cat had made small talk with him along the way, asking about where he came from and what had brought him here, which Aspenpaw mostly lied about.

Nonetheless, the conversation was relaxed and comforting in a way Aspenpaw hadn't felt in some time.

Everything always seemed so serious all the time, and it was good to have a break.

He wished he had more time to get to know her better, but he also knew that if he did, it would only hurt more to see her go.

The skies had darkened and the streets had gotten crumpled and seemingly unusable, as Aspenpaw had seen no cars since a long ways back when the ground was still smooth.

It reminded him of the outskirts which he had first found himself in when approaching the city.

He wondered if this was around the same area; he had no sense of direction anymore.

Still, it made him long for the forest again, to retrace his steps past the twoleg dens, past Corrina's commune, past the small twolegplace with the black post, past the pines of Shadowclan territory, and back home.

Aspenpaw reprimanded himself for thinking such things.

Riverclan wasn't home anymore, he knew that, but it hurt so much to put it into words, to make that statement with finality.

The sky was dark in a way that Aspenpaw hadn't seen since the day he arrived to the city, how the gray sprawled over all that was above like a thorn bush,

"This'll be where she is," The old cat said, indicating a series of disjointed metal boxes, exactly like the ones at the salvage yard by the commune's old base,

"Her name's Hawker; she allows ya to know that," The she-cat explained, braking in her step to speak with Aspenpaw before they approached, "Only reason she gets left alone is 'cause she knows this city like the mountains know the clouds. She knows where every one o' 'em, uh, communes, is, I'm sure of it,"

"Thank you," Aspenpaw mustered courteously, having prepared himself for some minutes before this moment to give her his gratitude,

"Oh, don't be silly, dear! You make a better tom than most in the city!" Though her words were lighthearted, Aspenpaw couldn't help but feel a bit dejected at her rejection, "Come now, I'll introduce ya, but then I gotta scatter. Wind's pickin' up,"

Aspenpaw nodded and followed the old cat's lead as they weaved through several layers of these metal homes that he was sure he had learned the name of once.

There weren't any cats lounging around here like there had been at the old salvage yard, and Aspenpaw wondered if they too had been removed from their homes.

The old she-cat stopped before one of these boxes.

It was elongated to nearly twice its width, covered in glossy yellow and stripes of red and other miscellaneous scribblings.

Despite how it glimmered and glowed in Aspenpaw's end, it was hard to imagine that anybody lived here.

One of the supports was missing, causing the home to be permanently tilted, and the steps that led up to a flap in the wall were all broken, some of them obviously unusable by now.

The old she-cat sat and yowled out to announce their presence, and then they were forced to wait patiently beside each other as it almost seemed that the call was ignored.

Aspenpaw would've spoken if not for a sudden movement by the flap, a she-cat stepping out and looking down on them.

She was a darker gray than Aspenpaw with bright, amber eyes.

Her fur was groomed better than most cats he had seen in the city, and she had very few scars considering how hard Aspenpaw assumed being a free she-cat must be here,

"What do you want?" Despite how distinguished her appearance sold her, she snapped with bitterness as she burned a hole into Aspenpaw's head,

"Hawker," The old she-cat addressed her, "I've got a friend here who's lost his way. He's got a good soul and a kind heart, and I hope you'll help him reach where he's goin',"

Hawker listened in silence, and didn't seem completely swayed, "My favor will be for you, if not I can return it while I'm alive, I'll fight for ya in Ra'in,"

Favors seemed to be very important in the city, and Aspenpaw refused to let the old she-cat take on a debt for his sake,

"It'll be for my favor," Aspenpaw spoke up with conviction, causing both she-cats to look at him, puzzled.

Hawker, in particular, seemed interested, almost amused, by his proposition,

"What's your allegiance, tom?"

"I was with Apollo's commune, until she, fell," It was still hard to remember that Apollo was dead sometimes.

Hawker didn't respond at first, a look of surprise and confliction showing opening on her face.

Aspenpaw wondered if there were any other toms in any commune.

He reasoned that there must be, that all toms couldn't be content with their callus and unforgiving culture,

"I'm, sorry to hear that. Apollo was a powerful leader," To the old she-cat, Hawker said, "You go, storm's gonna be poundin' soon," and so the old cat stood, and for a moment she looked, but wordlessly turned away to retrace her marks.

A chilling breeze swept the dirt and debris from face to face, and Aspenpaw nearly called out, but the dirt had dried his mouth, and he could only watch as the friendly cat so quickly disappeared between clashing metals,

"Wait there a moment, tom," Hawker said with her back to him, and she pulled up the steps and too vanished behind metal.

She was gone for many painful moments of loneliness, but Aspenpaw didn't move, even when the first drop of the impending storm struck his chest.

His skin flared the longer he waited, with feelings of anticipation, fear, and desire all picking at his mind,

"Why is the day so long?" He asked to nobody, though he knew there was only one cat he would ask such a question to.

Aspenpaw looked at the sky and saw his brother in the gray smear, brighter than he, softly flowing towards.

None of the lines created his face, but Acornpaw was all that he would see.

Sometimes, Aspenpaw could get by, and sometimes the regret drove him deep into the night with only his eyes to light the way, but now, he just sat with the facts of all that had happened.

There were no worded thoughts that came through his mind, just images, the sights and sounds of memories, those brilliant surreal flashes.

He remembered walking beside him, counting the steps as they snuck to the edges of the territory to be completely alone for just a little while.

That was where Acornpaw discovered his lacking belief, and where Aspenpaw learned of the disturbing urges his brother had.

Perhaps it was something they shared, but Aspenpaw had never considered it before he had planned and proceeded with his act, a sacrifice to no god.

Hawker reappeared, and Aspenpaw still didn't move.

He just felt like sitting there, afraid of his thoughts but unable to pull himself away, but the violent outburst of speech defeated the feeling, "If I'm gonna be takin' you anywhere, you'd better give me your name,"

Finally, Aspenpaw felt reality return, and he answered without thinking,

"As," He knew that names were so precious to the city cats, but he had never felt the caution to keep it secret like they did,

"You weren't born here, were ya?" Aspenpaw rose and caught up to Hawker, who was starting to head towards the monoliths in the near distance,

"I've only been here a few moons,"

"Any connections 'sides the one commune you was in?"

"Corrina helped prepare me to come here, and a cat named Jingo got me in with Apollo," Aspenpaw responded with diligence, sure that she was testing him with these inquiries.

But then she asked something a lot more pointed,

"How did Apollo die?"

Aspenpaw couldn't remember the day well. He remembered looking over his shoulder and being unable to see the commune, and the argument with Deya over going back and checking on him, and he remembered seeing Apollo that final time,

"We got ambushed, and I just, found her dead," His honesty must have struck a nerve in Hawker, because she dropped the questions and gave an elegy to the mysterious leader,

"I'm sorry, again. I didn't know her too awful well, but I known many a she-cat who've she took in. She'd had the biggest commune, so I'm aware, and that musta' been for good reason. An' Jingo really believed in her, I know that. Does she know?"

The tranquil antestorm air carried her words so sweetly into Aspenpaw's ears, so that he began to feel choked up, thinking of Jingo,

"Not that, not that I know," He responded tentatively. He tried to change the subject instead of lamenting the uncontrollable, "Should I tell you who I'm looking for?"

"We've plenty of time, As. Don't worry 'bout gettin' her the message, you wouldn't wanna be the one to tell 'er anyway," Aspenpaw sighed and focused on the ground, Hawker's words bringing out the desire to see Jingo again, to hear her voice, to hear her song,

"I'm looking for a cat named Aoiri," Aspenpaw's anxiousness drove him to say the only other thing on his mind, just in hopes of some conversation blooming, but once again, Hawker shot him down,

"Don't be rushin', tom, if that's who you're lookin' for, we're gonna be well wet by the time we get any rest,"