uh... meow?

When Ashfur woke up, it was not to the morning chill of leaf-fall as he had expected. His ears and nose were already numb from the snow washing over his pelt, little chunks of ice battered his side as he stood. He opened his eyes against the whipping white, no longer was he within ThunderClan’s warrior den – an endless expanse of forest rolls out before him, forest that Ashfur himself does not recognize. It was not any woods he’s seen, not from the original home of the Clans nor the lake they reside by now. The unfamiliar trees were tall and lacked leaves, not even a stray brown or yellow shade in the canopies. The lack of bird song was equally unnerving to the gray tom, if it weren’t for the whistling of wind; it would be completely silent. He unfolded his front paws from out under his body, sitting up and slowly swiveling his head about to get a read on his surroundings. 

Crack! Ashfur twists his body around, pupils dilating to soak in as much of the pale light as possible. The trees seem to twist up into an arch, meeting together in a soft curve of their branches and trunks. An entrance, a gateway that seemed to beckon the gray tom forward – but otherwise, no source of a sound. No scurry of prey, no creaking of falling branches and not a single soul in sight. Not a reason to move from this spot, Ashfur decides. If this is some kind of weird dream, I’ll wake up soon enough.