Chapter 6
In masquerades, in veils; the signals point to the tender spaces of the dark.
Everything was as he had left it, though even if it were changed, he wouldn't be able to tell through the haze.
Perhaps no one had even noticed that he was gone, or they didn't care.
Aspenpaw landed hard against the ground after squeezing his body through the serrated opening he had plowed out earlier.
It stung trying to stand up on his paws, it felt like hot blackstone to walk, and the debris from the crevice sunk into his cracked pads and frayed pelt.
The nest that he had found himself awoken in was still where he had last touched it, and he reached out for it now, unable to stay awake any longer, but a tail collapsed softly on his right shoulder blade.
A she-cat whisked around in front of him, her blur staying for a few seconds before slowly fading, like a cloud disappearing into the gray.
Aspenpaw didn't jump, nor was he even filled with fear at this point, he simply followed the best he could with what rotation his eyes could still provide.
The unidentifiable, featureless cat guided Aspenpaw to the ground and forced something down his throat, slipping past his esophagus without swallowing.
After that, sleep ran fast in his eyes, compounded by the fact that Aspenpaw could no longer feel the pain in his chest, he knew he was drifting away, and could imperceptibly understand that his body was being moved somewhere safe.
Aspenpaw did have a dream, drenched in sweat and humidity.
The world was constantly rolling around, like a raindrop cascading endlessly.
He kept trying to stand up, but his muscles moved so faintly that any hope of escape was dashed from his physical body, or at least, the body this dream was capable of supplying.
His eyelids were shut and yet his eyes saw beyond them, though he couldn't make out any single shape from another.
Rectangles and cylinders nearly create trees in the outlook, but something kept them from taking form.
The colors were equally as bizarre, everything seemed black as he shot his eyes from side to side, but that regulation was abandoned when he stopped, focusing on a space that looked like a star, split halfway down asymmetrically on the top-left corner and the bottom, he saw a color likes waves of sound, voices turned to a catch-all glimpse of a spiritual light.
Aspenpaw could only stay here for so long, as a familiar sting throbbed and thrashed his chest, delivering him back to the body he had grown so used to.
His body was cushioned, squished between flesh and fern.
It was all silent, but a faint smell nested in his nostrils, so far away that putting any name to it would be able to convince him of its origin.
But another scent was much closer, overwhelming, tying his mind between the senses of an already forgotten dream, and a reality in awaiting his attention.
Foreign fur rubbed against his own, somebody he had never felt before, thick and tough, long strands rifting off with flakes of dry skin.
Aspenpaw's eyes stung with an intense heat, so much that he couldn't open them, and even the light shining through them was enough to give him a headache.
He buried his head deeper into the steadily breathing body in an attempt to black everything out completely.
A whisper, though he stuck his ears to his scalp, resonated through his canals and found meaning with the words, "You don't have to wake up yet, you aren't going to die," Her voice was sharp and yet spoke so sweetly, an evening mist,
"I'm not, afraid," Aspenpaw barely mouthed, tearing his dry lips open and finding his voice to be stuck halfway down his throat.
She seemed to hear him anyway, or could simply predict his words without,
"You don't need to be afraid. Drink, rejuvenate your voice," A plain material was presented to his muzzle, and Aspenpaw took it in his mouth, suckling on rain water and particles of gravel, "Do you know where you are, or why you're 'ere?"
Aspenpaw took a few more moments to drink, hardly even recognizing the question until his lips became dry again,
"I, know," He insisted, having to take breaths in between every syllable, "I, am, sick,"
"That's quite true, but where are you?"
"Prison," The she-cat gave a small chuckle, vibrating her chest and causing Aspenpaw to pull away to avoid the nausea that it caused,
"I'm sorry," She said, "You can come back," He accepted, though tried to move his eyelids this time, making very little progress, "You're in one o' the communes," The she-cat informed him, though he felt like he already knew that, "And yes, you're pretty awfully sick, though it should pass. Really ain't all that serious, just hurts like Tryl, I assume,"
"Who?" Aspenpaw asked, more breath than voice in the word,
"Pretty bad place, though I don't think you should ever be endin' up there,"
"What?"
"You gave everybody a fright, you know. They're all gone, if you were wonderin' anything about that," Aspenpaw was suddenly jolted with some of the recollection of this long day, though many bits were missing,
"Where did they go?" He asked, regaining some of his vocal strength,
"All assumed that you'd gone to tell to report back to whoever, that we was done for 'ere, so they all split off to every which corner and crevice they could find,"
"Why, didn't you leave?"
"Just no one can get past Rina. If she sent you, then you're as trustworthy as she is. And they told me that you got real clobbered, so I gotta take care o' whoever Rina sends my way. Ran outta most stuff though, we'll hafta get on a-goin' pretty soon if you don't like the way that agony feels,"
Aspenpaw was incredibly relieved by the kindness of this cat, and the reputation that Corrina had to instill this kind of confidence in him to others, even if it were just one other,
"I think we oughtta make good to our names. I'm Jingo,"
Aspenpaw was surprised that she was so willing to give him her name considering how precious they seemed to be to the city cats,
"I'm As,"
"I'll let you rest a few more minutes 'fore we gotta go,"
"Thanks," Aspenpaw sighed, "Where are we going?"
"A friend, over ways down in east side. She's runnin' things over there, so I can get you in with no problem for s'long as you need to heal up," Jingo rubbed her tail reassuringly along Aspenpaw's back, but he had another question to ask,
"Do you, think, that I could st-" He backtracked, "Do you think they could need my help?"
Aspenpaw was finally opening his eyes further and further and looked up to see the larger she-cat staring down at him with fear in her eyes, and some sort of somber reflection as well.
She didn't say anything at first, then suddenly asked,
"You're just a kit, As. There's nothing for you here. You need to go back home,"
"I don't have a home," He whispered, dejected,
"Why did you come here, As?"
"I need to help," The air was still,
"You've done something bad, haven't you?" He didn't answer; he didn't need to, "And you have no one left. Family?" He paused,
"No,"
"Do you know where your soul is?" He paused again,
"No," Jingo placed her head upon his, pushing his tear-covered eyes into her chest. She sang in his ear with an old voice, a recitative which made him feel so young to the earth,
"Dark was the night, cold was the ground where they laid my body
I got no place in this world
I only got my skin to feel, my eyes to see
Hm, my skin
Hm, my eyes
I got them no longer
Take my soul, well
Use it to soak up your misery, hm
I don't need it no more
The worms'll eat me up, the earth'll swallow me whole, well
I am a teller, I am a tramp, and I am a child of the green
Take up my soul, well,
Take it through them stars an' let it burn up on the far side o' the sun
I'm still wanderin' in my spirit, an' I'll keep goin' from hill to hill, well
'Til my grave shivers and upturns, and I'm reckoned by the lord for my sins, hm,"
Jingo ended with a drawn out string of soft hums, until she trailed off, as if her voice had been blown away in the wind,
"What was that?" Aspenpaw quietly asked when all was silent again.
Jingo sighed comfortingly and whispered,
"An old spiritual from down the line where I come. Song for wanderers and bleeding hearts. It's to connect you to all those others who feel so lost an' so broken. Don't be afraid of bein' alone anymore, As. Every one of those words is a hundred other lost souls lookin' for peace, an' they're all with you now, As, just as much as I am here,"
Aspenpaw's tears had stopped, and he looked up again into Jingo's face,
"Come on, let's get movin'," She stood up, as Aspenpaw followed.
As he placed his weight sturdily on the ground, he noticed that one of the toes on his left paw was shaking uncontrollably.
Jingo pressed herself against him, and Aspenpaw took it as an invitation to lean against her, as his eyes were still fuzzy and his legs were uncoordinated.
She led him to the hole in the wall that came out into the tunnel where guards had been stationed in the morning, their scents lingering on far past when their flesh and bones stood in the slanted pipe.
Aspenpaw tripped and fell, the side of his face connecting to rusty metal.
He unsheathed his claws for leverage, but it was Jingo who helped him back up, sitting him down in the trench as he caught his breath.
They were only a few steps in. The large, brown and white she-cat took a few paces forwards, and Aspenpaw thought about his current condition.
He was sick and injured, and the only reassurance he had to dwell on was a few words which he repeated over again in his head.
The dream of Acornpaw struck in his mind.
He suddenly remembered more of it, seeing the land of Riverclan through the camp's entrance, and the feeling of wet earth beneath his paws; he still couldn't see his brother's face,
"How much does it rain here?" Aspenpaw breathily asked, and Jingo turned around,
"It never rains out east. Even with the storm we got yesterday, I think it'll all still be dry as gravel," Aspenpaw could hardly be disappointed by the news when he was reminded of the previous day, the storm, the drawn blood,
"I hurt somebody yesterday," He whispered,
"What was that?"
"I hit somebody, and he, there was blood, and I ran!" Aspenpaw's voice started to raise as much as he could with the pain.
Jingo ran over and placed her paws on his back and thigh, "Calm down, As," She ordered forcefully, completely monotone.
When he finally did, still breathing heavily, she picked up the voice that she had been using before, "Is that why you're feelin' so bad?"
Aspenpaw glanced up at her but didn't say a word.
Once again, it wasn't needed to give the answer.
Jingo laid off him and crouched down a bit so that their eyes were perfectly level, "Listen. If you made a mistake, then you made a mistake. It's always goin' to exist, rattlin' around and giving you pause, 'less you know understand that. It's okay to feel down about these sorts of things. We are born with regret for a reason; it's so we can improve, so we can more easily find love in the world. I ain't goin' to tell you what to think, or what to do about it, I just don't want'a see outbursts like that. If Rina had faith in you, then I certainly know that you can figure things out. Now come on, we've dawdled long enough, and I need some time 'fore I can give another speech,"
She smiled, and Aspenpaw met her. He stood cautiously, refusing to fold, deciding that his current condition was more important than his past regrets.
Jingo offered his side to him again, but he wordlessly refused, taking a few steps forward.
A residue began dripping out from his chest cavity, light green and red, unable to mix properly with each other, caused by the intense strain of Aspenpaw's muscles to perambulate, decorating the tunnel with smudges of his paw prints in the muddy grime smeared all and around.
It felt like such a long way to reach the other end, holding his tail to his chest all the while, and breathing sparingly.
Jingo tried her hardest to stay beside him, but with Aspenpaw's inconsistent pacing, she had trouble with it, constantly looking over her shoulder to catch where he was.
Aspenpaw dragged his paws like he was fighting uphill against a mudslide, and had the coordination as if he was dodging debris that it sent his way, tree branches and root masses, sharp stones.
Aspenpaw kept his eyes to the ground, pointed a bit to the right so he could see Jingo trailing behind and ahead of him at different times.
But she suddenly stopped, so Aspenpaw looked up.
They had reached the other side of the tunnel, and there was a small, jagged opening which she seemed to be imploring him to enter.
The putrid scent of fever was potent in the air, and Aspenpaw swallowed as much air as his lungs could capacitate.
He was burning up all over, his body having completely disregarded his earlier chills in favor of its opposite.
He ducked under the absurdly low entranceway and came into a rectangular room fitted with a string extending from the high ceiling and a few freshly abandoned nests on the far side, shielded with a thin sheet held in place by two round, scalped logs.
The muck that clung to his legs and drenched his paws was nowhere to be seen, but a black and white rag of some sort sat as evidence that it had been dragged in at some point.
Aspenpaw was so busy taking in the setting that he didn't realize when Jingo came out behind and, and he flinched slightly as she invaded his view, walking forward without the magic that Aspenpaw was experiencing analyzing the living conditions.
There was an exit near the left corner of the room, and another on the right, though the former seemed to be where Jingo was heading.
Aspenpaw wondered how long it would take to make it to where they were going, and the accompanying thought of how long he would be able to hold out.
Whether or not they overlapped, Aspenpaw put his faith in Jingo for the time being, and as she motioned with her tail at the still tom, he started walking and followed her to the other side.
It was gray outside today.
Aspenpaw would keep living.
The clouds moved as if they were gently pushed with an extending paw, but there were so many more layers above just those first few, it seemed like, if shifted upside down, and his body fell into them, that he would just keep going, faster and faster.
It seemed silent for Aspenpaw now, except for a far-away whirling that faded and emerged every once and a while.
His paws moved independently of his mind, but they were set on the right track.
Jingo was beside him the whole time, though she said few words throughout the journey.
It was impossible to find the sun; all was shrouded in a gray glaze.
Aspenpaw could hardly tell the ground from the walls around them, but he could pick apart each little cloud and watch how they raced along the wind-blown path.
He did, however, understand the areas he was in, the way that light refused to hit where their paths reached.
The backpaths were windy, but every turn was a tight one, so many sharp angles jutting out like thistles in a ditch.
It was all so far removed from the forest, and with every bit of understanding that Aspenpaw could form into words, he had several more questions that could only be expressed in a frustrating, visceral confusion where words held no ground,
"We're almost there," Jingo spoke into the wind.
Aspenpaw only acknowledged her by quietly repeating her words,
"We're almost there,"
Aspenpaw didn't feel the need for that kind of comfort right now.
He was just walking now, no destination in his foresight.
He was miserable, but that wouldn't stop just because they found what they were looking for.
He was alive, and that wouldn't stop either, not today, at least.
He was simply moving, again, and again, and again,
"We're almost there,"
The ground started feeling like how he recalled, coarse, eviscerated stone, almost completely flat everywhere along the way,
"Cold was the ground where they laid my body,"
The song had struck a chord somewhere inside of Aspenpaw, though he didn't know a word for where.
It was like how he imagined it would feel to fall in every direction at once, so much pressure that, eventually, it becomes something like a blessing.
It made him feel for once like he understood something of pain beyond the frustration of heavy emotions. It instilled a melancholy, or perhaps, catharsis that allowed him to be alone with himself for a moment.
He looked up at the sky.
It was gray outside today.
Aspenpaw was still alive.
A black weight like a mountain stone, and, in the slit of free airspace behind, a hole in the wall.
Jingo told him to stay outside as she deliberated with the commune.
Aspenpaw was so tired, but he didn't want to fall asleep before he was under the guise of whatever sort of Medicine Cat they would have here.
Those words, as they always did, made him think about Acornpaw.
He couldn't recall anymore, the reason that he gave as to his decision about becoming the Medicine Cat Apprentice.
Aspenpaw certainly knew the answer, but he didn't remember what Acornpaw had actually said; the memories were so blurred now, he had worn them down so hard, like scratching claws on rock until they were too whittled down to recognize what they once were,
"Alright, you can come in now," Jingo's voice was soft and sympathetic.
Aspenpaw hated being able to tell when a cat felt sympathy towards him, he always felt like it was just an act, but he didn't complain, not in this state, and not after what she'd done for him today.
Aspenpaw rose to his paws and squished his body between the tight interval to make his way inside the small gray building, entirely unlit by internal forces like most of the structures in the city.
East side was much quieter than where they had been before, almost abandoned.
The twolegs here were few and far apart from another, ragged, wearing expressions akin to a deep sadness.
But there was a feeling of determination there too, and a loving comradeship if they crossed each other's paths.
He had only seen five or six monsters in this part of the city, racing by without ever stopping.
Aspenpaw was caught off guard by the vastness of the room that he entered.
It was about a quarter the size of Riverclan camp, but much bigger than the spaces in the previous place.
There were a couple places of small elevation, but most of the floor was flat, and the ceiling was much lower than before.
Meeting them at the entrance was a white she-cat, blindingly green eyes staring right into his, "Let's not bother with stare-downs and sly comments. I hope you can assume that I'm the leader of this commune,"
Aspenpaw appreciated her swiftness in discussion but felt a burning threat in every word, like if he stepped a single paw where it wasn't supposed to be, he'd be thrown out into the open again.
She continued, "I'm not very pleased by your appearance here, tom, and you will be my first suspect when things go wrong, but yes, you may stay here as you need. And I do fully intend to enforce the 'need' part of that sentence. You are not staying longer than it'll take for you to stop looking so demented,"
"Thank you," Aspenpaw nodded, too tired to even think about biting back,
"You'll sleep here for the time being. I don't want you exploring on your own in my home, so lay down over there and I'll send one of my cats down to check up on you," Without any closure, the leader left, jumping up to a duct halfway up the left wall and escaping into the darkness,
"She's in ought of a hurry," Aspenpaw just nodded before changing the subject,
"Is this, 'goodbye' then?" As much of a stranger as she was to him, Jingo was the only cat in the city who had shown him kindness, and he didn't want to be left alone without a guide in such a new and frightening place,
"Oh, no," She said simply, instantly relieving Aspenpaw of some of his tension, "Word'll get around that it's safe to be headin' back to the other base, so I'll wait until everyone else gets back first so I can have myself a bit of time with somethin' different goin' on. Now go on, get some rest, I'll keep watch over you 'ere. You ain't got nothin' to worry about,"
Aspenpaw was in Riverclan again; he recognized the river, its steady flow so slightly different from others.
It was the small tributary which flowed into the river that acted as the borderline between Riverclan and Thunderclan, where the youngest apprentices were taken for training, and where their father would take them to play.
That's where they were now, Aspenpaw whirling like an invisible specter around a slightly smaller double of himself and his brother scrambling and scraping, trying to push each other into the water.
His younger self seemed like he had already lost before, his back half soaked with dazzling liquid in the gleam of twilight.
Aspenpaw realized that he was dreaming; a dream of a memory, "Alright, cut it out you two, it's time to go back to camp, or else your mother is going to get really worried,"
Aspenpaw knew that voice better than his own.
He was suddenly watching through his own eyes as the memory played out.
He saw their father, laying on the banks, the only difference between him and Acornpaw being his large ears.
He hadn't seen their father since he had vanished, not even in dreams.
Aspenpaw hardly got a chance to see him before his head involuntarily swerved to his brother, another sight so painful and uncanny.
He remembered this all perfectly, and started mouthing along with the words that his brother spoke, "But! Okay. Can we come back tomorrow?"
"Only if you impress Whitestem. And that goes for you too, As. If I hear something good from both of your mentors, we can come back for a little while,"
"Okay!" Their father's voice was so unique from both his kin and his clan at large.
His voice was so smooth, and Aspenpaw remembered it being more expressive than any other cat he had met at that point, but now, hearing it again, even if it was just a dream, it sounded like he was just acting,
"Alright, come on," He started moving, and so his kits followed.
But Aspenpaw wasn't in his body anymore, he was just watching by the bank as the trio began to grow smaller and smaller in the distance,
"Wait," He whispered.
He repeated himself, louder, and again, until he was shouting, "Wait! Daddy, don't leave me here alone!"
There was no response.
There was nobody left; they were all gone, "Please come back! Please!," Still nothing.
He couldn't move; his legs wouldn't let him,
"Please! Why did you leave? Answer me! Daddy! You bastard! You damned bastard! You never loved me at all!"