Dragging himself forth through the forest, frozen leaves crunching softly under his pads, Ashfur ventures onward. The lack of sleep of the previous night has left him bereft of much of his strength, the day after having been spend much the same as most others, with patrols, training Lionpaw and hunting. His desire to rest and just unwind for once chipping away at his need to train, his paws drag him towards the river. He pushes past the reeds surrounding his little spot, letting out a displeased grunt as even they seem to have turned ice cold within the last few days. Sitting down by the flowing water's edge, it appears he's arrived first tonight. Neither sound nor scent indicate Talon's presence yet. With a deep sigh, the warrior stares into the clear water, at the stars reflected in them, at the tired pair of blue eyes with which his reflection returns his gaze. Leafpool had nothing to help beyond some traveling herbs to chew to get him through the day. By now, their effect is waning more and more and the exhaustion crashes down upon the tom opressingly.

Raising his head and beholding silverpelt, the bright sparkles of the stars, each of which a supposed warrior ancestor, his ears fold back against his head. Has he grown unworthy of even something as rudimentary as a night's sleep in the eyes of Starclan? Who's eyes did he feel upon him that kept him up all night? They seemed familiar somehow. An ancestor of his perhaps? His father Whitestorm had more yellow eyes, not as amber as those he noticed. With another sigh, he closes his blue eyes. Perhaps it was nothing and he merely imagined it after all or some fresh-kill he ate was rotten. All he knows is that there mere act of sitting upright is a fair bit more difficult than it should right now.

As time slowly creeps along, his eyes slowly and with effort open anew, gazing at the stars. Quietly he mutters a prayer to Thunderclan's warrior ancestors in Starclan, speaking his barely audible words into the icy wind, a faint spark of hope that they might hear his plea this time in his eyes. A prayer for guidance, for advice, help or a sign of any kind. A deeply felt wish to confirm to him that he isn't all alone, that he has not been completely forgotten just yet. Time passes, the cold wind rustling the reeds all around him remaining the only answer the grey tom receives. The cold, slowly but continuously seeps into Ashfur's bones, the spark of hope in his blue orbs increasingly smothered by deep sadness. Another wasted prayer alone by the river. How many has he spoken over the moons and seasons? Dozens for sure, hundreds possibly. The stars sparkle on as they always have, somewhere among them cats he knew. Bluestar, whom he looked up to, Cinderpelt, whom he respected as a capable and kind medicine cat, Swiftpaw, his denmate and friend when they were apprentices. No voice of theirs rings in the pleading warrior's ears. His father Whitestorm, wise and patient, taken by Bone. His mother Brindelface, kindhearted and nurturing, reduced to dogbait by Tigerstar's paws. His brother, Elderkit, whom died before he ever even could become an apprentice. None of their faces appear to Ashfur to council their living kin. As the last vainful flicker of hope is choked out of the Thunderclan warrior's eyes, he slowly sinks to the cold ground. His every muscle feels as heavy as his heart his for moons, the depressing realisation that tonight his pleas to Starclan won't be answered either only making it harder to resist the clutches of his own tiredness. Resting his head on his paws as a slow snowfall sets in, he observes the dancing little specks of white dance through the air, before touching the river and being undone, only for more of them to follow the same path. With an exhausted huff, his eyes shut, ears slowly swishing to listen to the calm motions of the reeds and nearby tree branches in the wind. He's been waiting for a while now… perhaps Talon won't show tonight. Or is he running late, kept busy with matters of his own clan? If Ashfur's not worth the time of his own ancestors, how could he claim the time of cats still very much busy with trying to live their lives, serving their clan, protecting their families… Does the red eyed warrior have a family of his own? A mate, kits of his own? It hadn't occurred Ashfur to ask so far. Perhaps he would if he sees Talon again. Perhaps he will.

Consciousness slowly departs the warrior as his resting, under the clawing and pulling of his own exhaustion, gives way to slumber. The world around falling away as his aching joints and troubled mind finally find rest, the strain of both pearling off, like light rain off a well groomed coat of fur.

Only for both to resume a moment later. His face contorting into a displeased grimace, Ashfur's ears perk up, his eyes remaining closed. He does not feel the same tiredness anymore, but the pain in his muscles and the relentless clutter in his mind remain unchanged. His nose wrinkles as the smell of mold and old leaves hit his nostrils. It takes several moments for the due confusion to wrestle itself to the forefront of Ashfur's thoughts. The fallen leaves are frozen and there should be no mold. He's resting by the river during leafbare, on a bare clay ground. With a sentiment between bewilderment and anger, the warrior opens his eyes. Rapidly wonder and confusion blurr out anything else in the grey warrior's mind as he beholds his surroundings. He raises his head and looks around, viewing a deep gloomy forrest all around him. No stars shining above, the barely visible sky past the many empty, jagged branches of the close growing trees is naught by perfect darkness. Everything hold a slight red glow, with the exception of some mushrooms that appear to grow near the roots of many of the trees, whom in turn glow in a ghostly blue colour.

With a grunt, Ashfur rises to his paws, despite most of his muscles screaming in protest. Questions rattle through his skull aplenty, as he slowly begins to pad onward. The ground is covered in fallen leaves, in all stages of decomposition, soft under the pads that had been tracking over hard, frozen grounds for days now. While Ashfur leans in close to take the scent of one of the mushrooms, identifying them as the source of much of the moldy smell around there, a rustle catches the warrior's attention. Unsure of what to expect in this strange place, the Thunderclan warrior spins around, immediately dropping into a fighting stance. Eyes narrowed to slits and ears attentively perked and turning to identify the source of the noise, the tom remains ready for battle, claws unsheathing and tail lashing low. His stance eases slightly as a familiar sounding chuckle sounds from nearby, soon followed by the emergence of two cats. Ashfur recognizes Hawkfrost immediately, the Riverclan warrior wearing a content smile as he settles down a few taillengths before him.

„Welcome, Ashfur. I promised you a chance to start training, and you shall have it."

Ashfur gives no answer, instead opting to observe the other cat closely, remaining in a battle ready stance just in case. The cat looms over Hawkfrost's shoulder, oberving Ashfur in turn, seeming to size the tom up. Strong muscles, covered in a multitude of scars, many of which are faintly visible under a thick, spickey pelt of grey with white accents, mostly around his face. Most prominently however, a pair of narrowed, shining amber eyes, piercing Ashfur with a look he can't quite place. The same faint red glow seems to come off of this cat as the rest of the environment here and he appears ever so slightly translucent, or perhaps it is only a trick of the light in this bizarre place. After a while, the Thunderclan warrior returns his gaze to Hawkfrost and answers.

„Hawkfrost. Where have you brought me here? And who's with you?"

The grey and white tom grunts, taking another step forward.

„Did they not tell you of your own kin? I would have expected no less from that foxheart Bluestar, but I'd hoped Whitestorm had at least told his kits about me."

Ashfur's stance eases up at the mention of his father, his ears trained of the strange tom as he slowly sits down.

„You knew my father?"

The amber eyed warrior gives a sigh that Ashfur isn't sure wether to count it as exasperated or melancholic in sound

„Knew? I RAISED your father. Whitestorm was my kit. I am Thistleclaw and we are kin, you and I, Ashfur"

Ashfur's eyes widen in surprise for a moment. Looking at this stranger with this new knowledge, he sees now that the shade of grey most their fur has is indeed identical. This cat might actually be his kin, one of his warrior ancestors! Have his prayers not been for naught after all? Perhaps someone did listen in the end. Hawkfost chuckles amusedly at the amazement in Ashfur's eyes, drawing the attention back to himself

„Well, I believe you have some catching up to do. I must be off. A certain brother of mine is probably looking for his training partner"

Ashfur hums, flicking his ear

„So you are the one Brambeclaw trains with? I should have figured…"

Rising to his paws and turning around with a demonstrative flick of his tail, Hawkfrost grins over his shoulder to the Thunderclan warrior

„Kin is important, Ashfur. Loyalty to it, guiding it in the right direction. Brambleclaw has a headstart on training, you better give it your all if you want to catch up and surpass him. But with Thistleclaw you are in good paws for that. Less than everything won't do when training with him"

Thistleclaw nods, his spikey tail flicking behind him, sending a few fallen leaves flying

„A warrior must always give his all. Half measures are for kittypets and rogues. You wish to be the greatest warrior in Thunderclan, then you must take every training as serious as a life or death battle. Nothing less will do"

Ashfur's eyes return to his ancestor and he nods with unmasked enthusiasm.

„Right! Then let us begin!"

A brief spark of appoval and amusement flash in Thistleclaw's eyes before making way for his stern expression once more as he shakes his head. As Hawkfrost slinks away into the undergrowth of the Dark Forest, the amber eyed spirit left before Ashfur grumbles

„A warrior's attitude, but no, not now. You would still by laying in the snow, freezing to death, were it not for that rogue of yours. You'll prove nothing to any cat if you never wake from this sleep. Rest assured, Thunderclan will be reminded of the strength of our bloodline when I'm done with you, but as galling as it is, we will need to be patient for now"

Ashfur tilts his head, trying to make sense of Thistleclaw's words. Slowly he remembers, he is not in his den. With a wave of worry ascending his spine, the grey Thunderclan warrior calls to memory that he fell asleep outside, by the river, on the frozen clay and under the falling snow. How could he make such an apprentice's mistake? He might never wake up after something like that. The flight of panic rising in Ashfur only serves to aggravate Thistleclaw, whom scoffs in annoyance.

„Don't go flailing like some lost kit. The rogue is taking care of you, you won't die just yet."

Ashfur's ear flicks towards his new mentor, trying to calm himself with less than moderate success

„Rogue? You mean Talon came after all?"

Thistleclaw stares at Ashfur for a moment in silence with his glare like stare, before turning away and commanding his descendant

„Follow. You can see such things from here"

The intruige rising in Ashfur at that still matches not the worry that he may very well be freezing to death in his sleep in that very moment. Nonetheless, with nothing else to do and compelled by Thistleclaw's commanding tone, he follows the rugged, spikey warrior as he begins trodding past thorned, leafless hedges and crooked, low grown trees, navigating this odd and life deprived landscape with experienced expertise. It takes little time before they arrive at a larger puddle, Thistleclaw sitting down next to it and with a flick of his tail inviting Ashfur to do the same. He does so, looking around at this dried and dark mockery of a forest, before an impatient and surprisingly forceful slap from Thistleclaw's tail jerks his attention back to him.

„The waters here let us see what goes on among the living cats. Anywhere Starclan's eyes can reach, ours can too. See for yourself"

Ashfur wordlessly blinks at Thistleclaw for a few heartbeats, before directing his eyes down into the murky and dark water gathered on the ground. Uncertain on how and what precisely to do, but unwilling to disappoint his looming ancestor, he looks deep into the puddle, surprised that despite it seeming so shallow, he can't seem to quite make the bottom of the puddle. As he tries to make sense of this, it almost seems as if, just in the middle of his vision, the murk slowly lifts. His worry is replaced by surprised wonder and his ears perk up in attentiveness as he begins to perceive two shapes. The scene only slowly becomes clearer, more detailed but quickly Ashfur, much to his own wonder, identifies his own body, as it is being dragged towards the edge of twoleg-place by a familiar dark grey tom. As the vision becomes clearer, he can clearly see the effort and exhaustion on Talon as he tries to keep up a rapid pace while carrying Ashfur's unconscious body by the scruff through the by now much more harshly falling snow

„That is impressive… so… all our ancestors can in fact see clearly what is happening around us?"

Ashfur raises his gaze towards Thistleclaw. The old warrior grumbles and slowly nods as he looks past Ashfur into the waters.

„Yes. They could. But Starclan cats grow soft as kitty-pets, only hunting and lazing around. Those cowards forget any and all duty they held towards their clan, become selfish and weak. Solely the Dark Forest is willing to sometimes help warriors achieve their goals, their ambitions. The only cats they let in to speak are their snivelling medicine cats…"

Thistleclaw' spits the last words out as if they were venom burning his maw, as if medicine cat were an insult directed towards him personally, his face pulling into a sneer. Ashfur observes Thistleclaw for a moment as the ancestor seems to wallow in memories for an instant. Slowly the blue eyed warrior lowers his eyes back to the puddle. So they can see… they could see, if they cared. They could help if they wanted. Thistleclaw's revelation weighs heavy on Ashfur's already aching heart. Fighting the urge to clutch his aching chest, Ashfur finds himself staring back into the water's vision. Slowly and with the assistance of another cat Ashfur doesn't know, Talon is climbing a wooden fence with Ashfur's body still in tow. The dark grey tom is visually breathing heavily around his grip on Ashfur as he finally arrives at the top of the wood, only to leap down on the other side, into the backyard of a twoleg dwelling.

„You should return soon. If the rogue thinks you're dead, who's to say he won't take a bite out of you"

Thistleclaw's deep grunt makes Ashfur sit up straight, returning his gaze to his spiky furred kin

„I would, but I do not really know how."

„Will it"

Thistleclaw's words are stern in tone, more like an order than advice

„You just need to focus on it, concentrate and will it. As long as you are in a situation where you can focus for a few heartbeats, you can leave the Dark Forest as a sleeping, living cat."

Ashfur hums, the advice given seeming somewhat rough and poor in details, but unwilling to draw Thistleclaw's anger he just nods and closes his eyes. Focus… focus on what? On waking up? Returning to his body? Leaving the Dark Forest? Trying his best to find something to focus on that goes in that general direction, he eventually finds something. At first fleeting and gentle, a feeling, as if a non-present wind were blowing into a certain direction. Concentrating as best he can on it, Ashfur soon finds himself falling into the feeling of exhaustion and tiredness he left behind when he fell asleep. The stronger the feeling grows, the closer Ashfur gets to it, the less he has to focus and the more it seems to pull him in on it's own. Before his senses give way entirely again, he still hears Thistleclaw's deep voice beside him

„Tomorrow we begin, Ashfur. I will teach you how real warriors should do battle. You will be able to conquer anything when we're done, or anyone."