Chapter 21
Go to the sea, love will find you in the end.
Aspenpaw awoke long after the sun had risen.
His body was sore and tired, as if he had been asleep for moons.
But it had only been night since he rested on the dirty sidewalk, as told by the fresh moss which he had nursed on.
Aspenpaw didn't rise at first; he looked back and forth at the monstrous stretches of grand towers and watched the noisy cars going by.
These sights reminded him of his loneliness, the tiny glimpses of movement only serving to drive him deeper into himself.
He looked up into the smoke-blanketed sky, and suddenly felt himself falling, taken away from everything that he knew, as if he didn't belong in this world.
Another car ran past, and Aspenpaw felt no stronger urge than to lie where he was.
He hoped that if he never started the day, he could reverse it all.
He waited for some tremendous realization or inspiration, but only what came to him was his dream of the gorge, and the searing dullness of being without purpose.
Maybe it would be better if the sky swallowed him, erase his memory from all those he had hurt.
Aspenpaw stood up and shook out his dusty pelt.
It really did seem like he had been there for more than just a single night.
He lapped at what small amount of liquid was still trapped in the tangles of the moss that the preacher had brought him.
He wondered of the stranger's intentions as he began to retrace what he recalled had been his steps.
Aspenpaw didn't believe that the preacher, whom he had already forgotten the name of, didn't know that he wasn't from the city.
He must have known that Aspenpaw knew nothing of the beliefs of the city and was trying to teach him and convert him.
Aspenpaw could see no other reason why he would have been kind to him.
Aspenpaw quickly lost his exact way and was forced to improvise through the alleys, going in the direction he thought the commune was.
There were a couple cats in the ways which he chose, who all seemed comfortable and confident in their placement here, unlike Aspenpaw, who stumbled around like a blind kit, only being somewhat aware of a general direction.
Nobody paid him close mind, and Aspenpaw stuck to the shadows as much as possible until he came out to a street which he was sure he had never seen before, devoid of twolegs but brimming with a colony of cats.
Buildings stretched symmetrically and hung over the street like the sun to the forest, casting half the site in a thick shadow as the afternoon wore on.
All of a sudden, a site Aspenpaw had never considered appeared before, a gift of wild chance.
Three kits bounded up beside him in play, wrestling and chasing one another like Aspenpaw once had with his brother.
One of them, noticing the stranger, tapped Aspenpaw twice on his leg and looked up into his eyes, asking some sort of question in a garbled tongue.
Immediately, before he could try to decipher and answer what the newborn had asked him, a golden-white she-cat came sprinting up, so fast that Aspenpaw tensed his muscles in reflex, preparing for impact,
"Kits, kits, come here," She said as she came up, and her request was fulfilled with haste.
Just as the final of her kits came to stand beneath her tall legs, the she-cat finally addressed Aspenpaw monotonically, "How do you do, wanderer?"
Aspenpaw panicked at the recognition and answered defensively,
"I'm fine," The she-cat took no notice of his tone,
"What're you 'ere for? Food? Shelter? We've little to offer, but ours is yers," Aspenpaw was once again reminded the service offered to wanderers in the city,
"I'm just looking-" He didn't know how to ask for directions.
Aspenpaw didn't know anything about where he was, and he didn't know whether or not he could trust this stranger, "-looking around,"
He noticed that, despite how she stood taller than him, the she-cat's shoulders were hunched and her eyes focused closer to Aspenpaw's chest than his eyes,
"There must be something I can do for you," The she-cat implored.
Her kits had grown tired of waiting and had begun swatting at each other again.
They were all thin, the thinness which Aspenpaw had only seen since he entered the city, and in the most severe cases of sickness, "No, I'm fine, I'm just, looking for-for something,"
"Which way yer headin, son? I can get cha through these parts," A new voice broke into the conversation from behind Aspenpaw.
He turned quickly on his heels and saw a small, black tom, sporting just a few gray hairs on his chin. He was obviously a wanderer, ungroomed and unwashed.
For a moment, the only noise audible in the vicinity was the playful squeals of the kits, who played despite how their mother tapped them to be quiet.
The she-cat showcased her impeccable ability to spot wanderers and immediately raised the same offer to the tom,
"What is there you need, wanderer?" The tom answered quickly and with confidence,
"Water would be appreciated, darlin', and get this youngin' somethin' small to munch on,"
"Come, kits, we must return home," To the two of them, the she-cat said, "I'll be back with the gods' speed,"
The strange tom didn't spend a moment to respond to her and began speaking to Aspenpaw, "So, which way is it, son?"
"None of your business," Aspenpaw relied on his coldness and hoped he would be left alone. He wanted to get out of this populated corner of the city as fast as possible.
The tom rebutted, "I think it is. Yar sittin' 'ere an' stutterin' like a fox, I hardly think ya know yer way through these streets,"
"I'll find my way,"
"I hear that four times a day, son. Where are ya tryna get to?"
"Just trying to find some friends. I don't need help," The old tom's eyes lit up,
"An' you don' know where they are. Least let me walk with ya while, it won't do ya no harm, and maybe you'll really get to where yer goin',"
Aspenpaw began getting frustrated at the tom's stubbornness, and then began to get even angrier at himself for having such a short temper,
"Get away from me! I don't want you following me around! I don't wanna know you! I can find it on my own!"
Aspenpaw didn't dare look around to see the reactions of any of the other cats around.
The stranger suddenly got a glint in his eye and a curl to his lip. He began quivering like a reed by the river, and unexpectedly, he started shouting back,
"I thought ya'd be one o' the smart ones! Lord above knows I try my best to help out where I can, but yer just like all the toms yer age, an ungrateful brat! I won't be the one to soothe ya when ya start cryin' like a kit 'cause you can't tell the difference between this way and that!"
The tom stormed off without a second glance, but Aspenpaw felt several more pairs of eyes on him as he watched the stranger slink into the shadows.
Aspenpaw turned and attempted to flee with his head down.
He was angry and confused and just wanted to see his friend again; he didn't bother counting his problems because they simply seemed endless.
He didn't bother counting his benefits either because he didn't believe he had any.
He kicked a stray pebble down the sidewalk and it landed at the paw of the she-cat, returned juggling a rat and a floppy dish of water in her jaws.
She placed them accordingly in tribute and announced herself, "Here are refreshments. Please, take them,"
She still wouldn't look him in the eyes; she probably didn't even know that the other tom had left.
It was a pitiful meal for the pity of a loner. Aspenpaw felt the pangs of hunger like a tug on his soul, but assured himself that he was just overreacting.
His pelt was lean, her's was hardly there,
"I don't want it," Aspenpaw nearly growled as he declined the hospitality.
He wouldn't accept pity; he would survive on his own.
For a moment, the she-cat didn't respond in any way, and Aspenpaw was afraid that he had hurt her somehow.
Then she lifted her head, and compounded his fear.
The she-cat's eyes were hazy, and she spoke with a voice of guilt, "I'm sorry," She said, "I've not anythin' else,"
Aspenpaw was caught by a snag in his throat.
He had hurt someone again, and didn't have the capability to explain himself.
He wanted to run away, as he had always done in the past, but he didn't.
Aspenpaw stood his ground and braced through the pain and discomfort,
"It's yours," He muttered in a quiet, low voice, just loud enough for only the two of them to hear, "It's for you, and your kits. I can get by on my own,"
At this point, Aspenpaw closed his eyes, not able to see the she-cat's reaction.
She seemed just as stubborn as him,
"No, you must take it," She said through her tears, "You deserve it far more than I. I'm just a queen, I needn't to gorge myself,"
Aspenpaw found himself growing angry at her words, angry that she had been lied to so much that she believed all of the terrible things that cat's said,
"If you leave it here with me, I'll tear it up and throw it to the birds!" Proclaimed Aspenpaw.
He could not be responsible for the starvation and deaths of four innocent cats due to his careless decision.
It struck him suddenly that that philosophy had come from Acornpaw.
It was quiet for some time, only a soft cry and the scenic sounds of the city coming into Aspenpaw's ears, until the she-cat finally spoke again, with just two simple words,
"Thank you," Aspenpaw didn't say another word, and he hurriedly scrambled from the scene, past judgmental eyes and into the busier corners of the city, at least, of what he'd seen.
There was an uncountable mass of twolegs, but Aspenpaw's desire to run from his trials sent him hurtling down the sidewalk, sticking to the walls and metal fences.
The air stank with fumes and sweat, and he could feel the eyes of the twolegs pounding down on him like hail.
Aspenpaw slunk into the nearest alley to exhale the breath he had been holding.
Nothing around him had been familiar for some time now.
Dejected, Aspenpaw contemplated giving up, leaving the city and seeing what other horrors his paws would lead him to.
He continued on for now, his hope draining with every corner he turned and every twoleg he saw.
The city seemed so big from where he stood.
Aspenpaw knew, no matter how long he stayed here, he could never see everything.
Aspenpaw walked for the better part of the day in search of anything recognizable.
He looked everywhere for any trails of peonies, the secret sign of a nearby commune, but found nothing.
His stomach was just as empty as his luck.
Aspenpaw didn't know where to scavenge for food, and he hadn't found anything to hunt.
Suddenly, and uncontrollably, he began to think about Acornpaw, and the talks they had had in the middle of those sweet, green-leaf days.
There were so many more things that he could have said to him that he had refused to.
Instead, he had let Acornpaw speak of his dreams and passions, and sat idly by, this plot conceiving in his rotten mind.
Acornpaw had wanted to float in the clouds; he always said that Starclan was far too high up, too long of a travel between all the clans.
He wanted to keep an eye on all of them.
Aspenpaw dreamed of a flat field, with sand colored short grass that stretched until the ends of the world.
The sky, in contrast, was still black.
He had traveled the entire day without once asking for help.
He wasn't what assistance he could have even asked for though, none of the landmarks here stood out to him.
And so it was that he brute-forced the maze, taking every turn and tracing every step two or three times, all in hope he could find something he recognized.
When the steps counted in the thousands, and Aspenpaw's entire legs felt raw and sore, he had hidden behind a dumpster, disguising himself from all senses near the foul box.
Now he was transported, and the sweet breeze felt as refreshing in his sleep as a drink of water would now in his waking.
He took a few hesitant steps forward, preparing for the painful memories and the self-reflection.
There was nothing else in this dreamworld except for the sky and earth and him.
And a single clear puddle, not even as long as his body.
But when Aspenpaw peered over the edge, he discovered how deep it went.
Some force of gravity, greater than his own strength, swallowed him into the water without mercy, and dragged him further and further from the closing eye of the surface land.
Aspenpaw feared, not to be drowned, but to be separated from the life as he knew it, placed back to the waters for keeping.
He kicked out and squirmed and screamed for breath, but the light dim and fell away, and he was left in total darkness.
His skin felt inside out, compressed by the pressure of a sweeping undertow, though it was impossible to tell where any direction began and ended.
There was a sound above him, some hope for salvation from loneliness, a splashing on the ocean glaze,
"Where are you?" He called out, "Where are you?"
There was no reply, and he screamed with all the muscles in his body, "I'm here! I'm here!"
Though his voice was cracked, his words could not part the water, nor were his ears ever put to their task.
He was completely alone.
There was nothing but his own thoughts and fears and desires.
He knew that he had committed the worst crime that he could have, but he wanted to be allowed to change, though he was the only cat keeping himself back from that now.
He could play this character, some simple, shy rolling stone.
He could be again anew if only he destroyed his past, but that was impossible.
He would still see his brother's face in every reflection, his mother in the skin and bones of the sick and starving, his father in every wayward shadow.
All that he could wish for now was the touch of another's body against his own.
He was so cold, and so afraid; he just wished to be loved.
Aspenpaw had never had the words to tell anybody that he loved them.
Their mother had told them both to love everybody as they did each other, but he hadn't.
Aspenpaw had grown bitter and shut out the world; he knew this now.
He dreamed of somebody who would love him unconditionally but refused to be warm to anybody, refused to tell them anything.
Except for Deya, to some extent.
He thought about the white she-cat, and suddenly, floating in this void of misery and silence, Aspenpaw gained a realization.
The thought of Deya being beside him as he wept out his pains was alluring, cathartic, and he longed to be beside her when she needed him, and to feel her body against his.
He wanted to love her.
It was wild to desire such things with a cat he had only known for such a short time, he told himself.
She was only putting up with him out of sympathy or solidarity for a fellow outcast.
These thoughts of romance felt so insane and foreign to Aspenpaw, but he knew them to be the truth as far as he knew anything to be.
He shut his eyes and squeezed them tight, though it made no difference to his senses.
He wanted to awaken; he wanted to find Deya and tell her all these extraordinary feelings which had come to bloom.
Before too long, the stench of the dumpster returned to him, and soon, the rest of his senses followed to welcome the new day.
The early sun beamed down as strong as a waterfall.
Aspenpaw rose and looked around for a minute, seated on the cracked stone sidewalk.
He remembered his dream to some extent, but more than that, he remembered the thoughts and feelings he had had and was still having.
A car blazed by, and Aspenpaw, his movements already arbitrary, decided he would follow the direction which it turned down.
He was filled with small vigor and adrenaline, intent on finding his way back to Deya, though it wasn't enough to make him forget his hunger.
Food hadn't been good for a long time, and at times Aspenpaw had started to get self-conscious about the ribs poking out from the thin layer of skin and fur on his chest and stomach.
He already considered digging through the dumpster in search of scraps like a pigeon, but was stopped simply by the idea and the smell alone; he never jumped up, even to take a peek.
Turning right, down the way where the paws of the car had squeaked and left new black marks to join many, Aspenpaw thought to himself further about the dream.
He didn't really love Deya; she was just the only cat willing to be his friend here.
It was just the stress and fear of the city which made him feel like there was anything that could arise between them.
Deya sure didn't love him, Aspenpaw was sure of that.
Despite these claims, Aspenpaw was unable to rid the white she-cat from his mind, which he was glad for.
It was much better than what he usually found himself thinking about.
Up on the metal branches, many birds relaxed and welcomed in the day, looking down mockingly at the starving tom.
As he looked up in envy of their position, a sound caught Aspenpaw's attention and attracted him like nothing else ever had in this city.
A rushing river, somewhere in the distance.
Aspenpaw ran as hard as hail, and quick as a car, in the direction which he thought he heard the waters.
He imagined a grand canal, with fish plentiful for the grab and beautiful trees and bushes to provide shade and shelter from the looming towers of the city.
He wanted to be back home.
The smell of the water grew stronger as he went, and Aspenpaw was convinced that it was real.
He made one or two more turns, and then was greeted by a strange sight.
There was a river here, but it was at the bottom of a hilly ditch, with a bridge running over, allowing cars to pass over the unguarded border of the city, and on the bank, there sat what seemed to be nearly twenty cats.
Aspenpaw was still exhilarated, and wouldn't let these things stop him from going down to the river.
He slid most of the way down the steep ditch and leaped to splash his paws in the water.
He rolled in the cool liquid, moisturizing every small bit of his body.
He drank and bathed with pleasure, hardly even recognizing the other cats who sat on the bank a little ways away.
When he had taken his fill, Aspenpaw washed up to the bank and looked across the water as the sun hit him so gently.
It didn't glisten in the same way that he remembered the rivers had in Riverclan,
"Did'jou get evicted too, son?" Aspenpaw raised his head to meet the eyes of an elderly black tom,
"What?" Aspenpaw had hardly been paying attention, too caught up in his discovery.
He tried not to feel disappointed by it all.
It should have made him happy to find something so familiar and so pleasurable as a river, but it only made him think of Riverclan, and compare every aspect of these waters with the perfect ones he had in his memory,
"Where d'ya come from then?" Aspenpaw had already forgotten about the tom and was unprepared to answer his question.
He just stared up into his dark eyes and watched how they shimmered, reflecting the waters.
Though he had been awake for mere minutes, Aspenpaw was exhausted.
He hadn't eaten for some time now, "You alright, son?"
Son.
Their father had never called them his sons; it was always "Acornkit" or "Aspenkit".
It had never crossed his mind, but that was perhaps the reason, at least for Aspenpaw, that he had always preferred to have been called "As".
When he left, he had taken even his sons' names with him,
"Oh, come with me, little one," The tom, still beside Aspenpaw, cooed at him and wrapped his tail around his back.
Aspenpaw only shivered in reaction and started lifting his legs and blindly following the tom's lead, "We'll fix ya up, good, a'right?"
He looked longingly to the river, wanting to wade back into it and hold his head beneath the water and disappear into its constantly moving form.
He remembered the night their father left.
They had been cradled in his grasp as he told them some old story that Aspenpaw had since forgotten.
He promised to finish the story the next night, and then pulled a thick piece of moss over them to protect them from the grand freeze of that leaf-bare.
It was just another night, but in the morning, it had all shattered, and he would never know why.
Aspenpaw found himself lying down now as a piece of meat was placed before him.
He didn't eat it; just rested his head on his legs, even as several voices crowded around.
Nobody in Riverclan ever spoke of it or him again, and to his folly, Aspenpaw never did either.
He brooded alone, laboring over questions he couldn't possibly know the answers to, at an age when he couldn't understand why bad things happen.
Now he sat alone again, surrounded by another swarm of faceless cats, and he just wished he could say three words to Acornpaw.