The sloppy rain had soaked her to the bone, an overhead dish drone her only reprieve from its full effects. Mira had felt her paws moments from breaking against the time-ravaged foundation of the abandoned twolegplace. Harsh lights hanging overhead had been her guides instead of the absent morning light. They had led her to the entrance of an absurdly wide nest with brown walls covered in illegible twoleg-speak. Two thick, see-through doors had parted on her approach, as did an inner set of doors, alerting the den to fill with light and a gentle hum.

Mira let out a sigh of relief when her paws touched the smooth but hard white floor and her senses returned. Two gray pillars in the entrance vibrated as she walked past and she hardly noticed the angry-sounding beeps they made. The walls and ceiling were perfectly reflective, letting her see her weather-ravaged fur and bloodshot eyes. She thought about taking the ornate wood box to her left, knowing a comfy seat for twolegs was behind it. But it felt just as good to know it was dry, just to be inside. Mira barely had the will to shake her fur and splayed out on the floor with another sigh. She finally had permission to be tired.

"Mira, stay awake for a moment."

The voice was feint over the hidden chatter holes. Moments later the floor vibrated enough to jolt her from her rest and bring out her claws. She loosed a throaty growl. "Proxima, What?"

"I have found a transmitter in this area," Proxima said, her voice emanating from the low ceiling. "Accompanying a hidden command center."

"That's nice." Before Mira slipped into unconsciousness, the floor vibrated hard enough to rattle her. Her colorless eyes refocused on the mirror wall, particularly on a red dot near her reflection. "Can't this wait? We've been walking for days and I just need to sleep."

"This cannot wait. I fear a few hours exposure to this worsening storm will damage it beyond usefulness."

"It survived whatever storms passed through for so long already," Mira growled. "What's another one?"

"That farm is too heavily damaged. I will not risk it surviving another storm, or worse. We leave in a few hours—"

"What!?"

"A few hours' sleep gives you until midday. We will travel through the relief in this storm and search until it picks up, again."

Now Mira was awake, her stumpy tail shaking angrily. "You mean you don't even know where I'm going?"

"I never said I did? The only reason we do not move now is you are too exhausted to handle the gale at its worst any longer. But I must compensate for how long it will take you to get from this warehouse complex to the farm. We will have to walk."

The old molly looked into her own tired eyes. "No, no you said we were walking through a dead spot. You said I could catch up on the sleep you've been denying me since we left the Ammit District." Her nose was tender to a tired bump against the wall. "I've never asked to skip one of these things in all the time we've been together. Give me this."

"Mira—"

"Just today. Give me one real day off. Please."

Even the puddle of rainwater Mira soaked the floor with was more comforting than spending another moment awake. But something else infested her mind as she tried drifting into the sleep she desperately wanted. The lights around her seemed to brighten ever so slightly. She swore she could feel the floor quivering. The singular red dot in the mirror appeared as dozens in the black of her closed eyes.

"I believed your time with Farstrider was enough for you." Proxima's accent was more severe in her low voice. "I did not think you would be willing to disappoint us both."

A growl seethed from Mira's clenched jaw as she forced her eyes open. "What?"

"You have told him so much about your journey. He believes in you, and so do I. Look how far we have come already. What is one night of sleep compared to you getting everything you have ever wanted?"

"What does Farstrider have to do with this?"

"You said you wanted to settle down with him. Find a cozy place to live, to continue your legacy—"

"You told me most chimeras couldn't have kits. You told me if it hasn't happened by now, it would never happen."

Proxima's voice was quiet, leaving Mira to question whether from shame or an implication of sorts. But the senior molly shook her head, marching past the ornate wood box and through another pair of see-through doors.

"Where are you going?" Proxima's voice was quieter to Mira from outside the suffocating den.

"You don't get to twist my daydreams the same way you twist your words. I guess that conversation we had a quarter-rotation ago meant nothing to you."

"Mira—"

The doors clicked shut and dumped Mira in a massive and dark den even colder and staler than the entryway. Rows and rows of silver racks holding everything from sheets of wood to drones were spaced far apart. She was relieved they were dormant, but that nagging fear in the back of her mind kept her from curling up right there. Before taking another step, a click echoed throughout the den from hidden chatter holes.

"Storming off like a child will not change our situation," Proxima's voice echoed through the massive den with little anger. "I just want you to know we are still leaving here midday."

Mira's anger was vanquished by her pounding heart and shivering fur. She couldn't sleep now. Her ears folded back as she took off down the nearest row to hide from the dark walls.

"There is no room for negotiation," Proxima's voice was no more forceful but felt so in her head. "You cannot simply run off this time. This is too important."

Words escaped Mira amidst the pursuit of the formless voice. She barely leapt over a silver beam because she looked behind her so much. The deeper she ran, the more lost she became in the ever-darkening den. She twisted left and right into new rows, through empty shelves, past dormant worker drones and over empty boxes. Her heart pounding against her chest took over all her senses, but it never kept her more alert.

"Stop running like this," Proxima's voice said with an eerie whine. "You might hurt yourself, and if you do—"

Looking behind her again, Mira tripped over a silver bar and tumbled to a stop against a discarded box of cushions. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to shred them to pieces. But her legs betrayed her and her mind, above all else, just wanted to sleep.

"That is as good a place as any to rest." Mira swore she heard a twisted irony in Proxima's voice, now in complete darkness. "You will be awoken at midday."

The voice unceremoniously clicked off.

"You can't just leave like this," Mira growled, fighting wave after wave of exhaustion while emerging from the cushions. "You haven't even listened to me!" She was alone in the dark, tripping over the same silver bar. "You never listen to me."

Mira had wandered somewhat back into the light, already missing the cushions and resigning to the inevitability she had only been burning her own time staying angry. Each wave of exhaustion had made her numb, eventually pulling her towards a wood plank only slightly more comfortable than the floor. She had thought she could be one step closer to her goals if she just listened. Mira had not wanted to concede her unfinished argument, but she had no more strength to run and no more will to fight.

O O O

Mira stopped for a moment to see if she was imagining it or if it was just her sleeves shifting. But the warm breeze did vibrate ever so slightly across her back. Her paws curled into the soft dirt beneath as she took a deep breath, awaiting the inevitable question from the adolescent tom nearly her height accompanying her.

"Mira, what's the wind doing?"

She was hesitant to look into Faypaw's curious, yellow eyes. "You don't say 'mom' anymore?"

"I'm ten rotations, now. Farstrider said cats in the Star Covenant always use proper names when they aren't kits."

"Oh." Mira awkwardly glanced up with him waiting for his answer. "Sometimes the direction of the wind is broken in very specific places by the pull of the sun. Instead of making storms, it makes the wind feel like its vibrating. And, if you listen close, it sounds like a little bird."

"What's a bird?" Faypaw said, eagerly awaiting the answer.

"Creatures with wings and feathers that flew around. That's what I've been shown, at least."

"What happened to them? Can I meet one?"

"Birds can't fly or navigate with the sun the way it is. Most of them are gone, now." Mira shuddered at the thought with her kit accompanying her. She merely glanced in his direction long enough to see disappointment from her lack of attention. "Give the wind a chance, Faypaw. It's very relaxing."

Mira closed her eyes and let the strange wind take another wave of anxiety from her. She couldn't help but purr looking at her kit, but not loud enough to be heard. Curiosity got the best of him. His eyes were closed and he swiveled his ears back and forth. She watched his short, black fur flow in the wind, wondering if he was feeling the vibrations along his back. He froze, ears fixed forward and stumpy tail quivering. The bewilderment in his eyes was plastered all over his face. Bewilderment that held back a more serious question. The lights overhead flickered off, taking Mira's attention before he could notice.

"Oh, that's right," she said. "Come on. We don't want to miss the sunrise."

"But I've seen the sunrise," he said. "You can't even see the sun."

"It's easier to see on some days than others. I promise you'll see it."

Faypaw padded up to his mother, keeping away from a pair of drones tending to vertically stacked rows of parsley plants. Light strips on the shelves of the bottom-most crops stayed on as they walked past, but the top ones, stacked a tree-length up, stayed off. A few drones sprayed the tallest plants with honey-scented water. Mira let the leaves brush against her fur and didn't bother avoiding them like her kit. The fresh soil and morning dew woke her fully while her kit let out a long yawn.

"Still tired?" Mira said.

"I'm up at night," Faypaw mumbled. "Most of us are."

"I know something that always works for me." Mira tightened her legs, feeling the mesh sleeves around them compress a bit. "They taught you how to sprint through dense forests as a kit, right?"

Faypaw's ears perked up. "Not as a kit. Also, aren't you a bit—"

"Then here's an early lesson. Try to keep up."

Mira charged forward fast enough to startle Faypaw. She dodged a pole and slid right into a left turn, picking up a bit more speed. She could hear Faypaw pounding against the soil and easily gaining. Mira's wrinkled ears pulled back when she demanded even more speed. Her claws skillfully glided off the soil with each leap she made. Her kit kept up, but he was at his limit. She leapt over a small puddle and pushed off one of the planters as hard as she could. The minute vibrations in the breeze returned while she floated, making her forget her surroundings and who was accompanying her. When her paws hit the ground, her sleeves sent a spark of pain through her legs. Her muscles lost all their strength and she tumbled into a shelf.

"Mom!" Faypaw's panicked gasps made her feel guilty for how far behind he was left. "Are you okay?"

"It's okay," Mira said, gritting her teeth as her forelegs throbbed. "Give me a moment."

The adolescent tom only became more flustered when his ears faced the dotted gray sleeves on Mira's legs. The one with the inflexible panel had a blinking red light and muttered some unintelligible twoleg-speak while all four had flashing red rings. One by one, as they shut off, Faypaw calmed down. She grunted a bit as the sleeves compressed and loosened, but she was quick to her paws when they stilled.

"See?" Mira said as cheery as she could. "All good." Faypaw still wasn't convinced, so she quickly licked his ear. He snapped out of it while she couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm okay," Mira continued. "My legs didn't break. The sleeves tripped me. I thought I told you this?"

Faypaw shook his head. "Why would they do that?"

She tried taking the lead, but her kit kept close to her side. "Proxima calls it magnetic mesh. Twolegs used to cut it to shape to fix things like bones and slumping trees. The sleeves compress and contract in certain ways and let me walk, run, and climb again. But I also haven't been a young cat in a long time. I shouldn't have made that jump."

"Yeah, well… it scared me." Faypaw still seemed unsatisfied with the answer.

"I'm okay. Really." Mira gently shook the soil from her fur. The adolescent tom's ears were still pinned back and he didn't react to the stronger vibrations a gust of wind brought. "I'm sorry I never warned you about it."

Faypaw shook his head. "Are you going to be okay out there?"

"You know I'm leaving?" He nodded. "Hmph. I guess I didn't check hard enough for your prying—"

"Why don't you want me with you?" Faypaw said bluntly.

Mira held her words. Faypaw was nervous but he stayed strong, his maturity surprising her. She let sniffing around a corner take some attention, certain several times they needed to turn right. The uphill alley had parsley so thick it spilled into the walkway. A few drones overhead sprayed honey-scented water and harvested the remainder, light strips illuminating their path as morning crept ever closer.

"Is Proxima here?" Faypaw finally said. Mira shook her head. "Did she tell you to leave me behind? Is it because I'm too young?"

"She could never decide that for me." Mira scowled. The gaze of her kit hooked her down too much to find a distraction. "You have none of my chimeric blood. But you'll grow even bigger than me and can outpace me now. But I didn't always land on my paws. Sometimes worse than others, as you saw."

She stretched her neck as far left as it would go and parted her fur. She didn't know if Faypaw was looking at the many scars underneath but hoped he at least glanced. "So what?" He huffed. "Cats get injured all the time."

"Not all of them are as easy to ignore as these. Or treatable, like my legs." She returned her gaze forward, fixing on the slight incline they were about to climb. "Sometimes, it hurts in other ways."

"Like what?" A bit of curiosity returned to Faypaw's stiffened voice.

Mira stayed quiet for a moment. She couldn't bear to look back at him. "Oh. Never mind about that… I just don't want you to get hurt in the same ways I have. At least, not just because I wanted you with me."

"I barely spend any time with you." The shelves widened enough for the two to walk side by side again. Faypaw stopped and shifted his paws nervously. "Sometimes, it feels like you don't want me around."

"I'd never want that," Mira pleaded with wide eyes. "I love you and I always will."

"Then why won't you let me come with you?"

"I never said you couldn't." The adolescent tom's ears perked, but his face stayed confused for a while until ending off with a smile and newfound pep in his movements. At the top of the hill, the stacks were a bit shorter to match the height of the taller ones at the bottom. The light strips had gone out against the light, finally breaking the dark sky. Its familiar hazel glow calmed Mira's pacing but happy heart. They stopped in a clearing absent of shelves and drones.

"I knew one day I would leave the great weather and safety of the hill cats for my mission," Mira continued. "I still believe StarClan needs my help. Proxima certainly needs it. It's just hard to explain saving a group of long-dead cats in the sky or moving the ringworld away from a dying sun."

"You just did," Faypaw insisted. "I understood it."

"You've been listening to your father's stories your whole life," Mira said.

"He said you've been travelling even longer than him. I want to hear your stories, too. And you can't do that if you're gone for rotations and rotations. What if I never saw you again?"

She leaned over and nuzzled his cheek, daring to look into his blameless eyes. "I want you to be safe with the hill cats and Farstrider when he returns in a few rotations. But that's not my decision to make."

Mira sat at the edge of a steep drop and looked to Faypaw to gauge his reaction. His mouth was agape, staring straight up at the perfectly white halo of pale light amidst a now orange sky. He briefly danced around his own naturally forming shadow while Mira purred at his bafflement. Faypaw gasped at white, puffy objects forming around and beyond the halo. He reached a paw and swatted at them, hopelessly out of reach but mesmerized.

"Farstrider told me about these! Clouds?" Faypaw mewed.

Mira nodded. "On certain days, you can briefly see them without there having to be a storm of some kind. But they're always there."

"I didn't know you could even see the sun." He rested his paw and regained his composure.

"Sometimes, at the right time and place." Mira stretched her paw towards the horizon and up the surface of the ringworld, its edges dotted with faint yellow and white lights. Her paw stopped at the shattered section of the ring where nothing but a distant, broken façade remained. "The remnants of the Yaga and Sasquatch District borders is where we need to go."

"The Shattered District? Why do we need to go there?"

"Proxima says she can't control drones there. She believes the ringworld could be heavily damaged or destroyed if it moves too far with that shattered part attached. Doing this will also guarantee her life, and that's already reason enough."

The kit's ears folded back. "Farstrider never told me Proxima was in trouble like that."

Mira shook her head. "He wouldn't have known. I'll tell you everything she's planned. It's much simpler than what I usually have to do." She felt a dull, persistent pit well up in her belly. Resting a paw on her kit's shoulder gave her reprieve, but she couldn't shake the feeling completely. She gave him a glance before gazing at the sunrise and explaining what Proxima had told her the night before.