A bright light shone through their eyelids, prompting them to shuffle around and check out it's source.

"Bartender!" They jumped to their paws and rushed towards the cat of stardust, only for them to pass through her, as if she was only an illusion.

She purred, an echo rang through the world, light as a soft rain.

Oddie looked around. This wasn't where they were used to seeing the Bartender. Where are the plants? The sea? The platforms and structures? Instead, they were in shallow water, ink black, which reflected the ocean of stars shining above them. They couldn't tell where this starry dome started or where the water ended.

"Hello, Oddie."

"Where am I?" They asked, neck stretched to admire Silverpelt, which they haven't been able to admire since settling in the bar. "Am I dead? If I am, where's the rest of my Clan?"

"I don't know. You are not dead. You are, however, dying. A brave soul in the bar is helping you stay alive."

She replied, her voice ethereal as if StarClan itself sung a chorus in harmony with her meows.

Oddie wondered who that could be.

"However, I do not know if he will be able to bring you back."

They took a deep breath, ready to accept their own mortality, before the Bartender spoke again.

"I have an offer for you."

"Which is?"

"I am aware that Nomad Clan Leaders have more than one life. I know how they are bestowed. I could offer up a part of my power to bring you back and give you a new life. But that would mean that I would not be able to show up in the bar anymore. We will only be able to meet in dreams and in death. Trying to possess you was exhausting and uncomfortable, I apologize and I won't do it again."

Oddie said nothing, eyes fixated on their paws disappearing under the surface.

"Why me…? I don't deserve all of this, Bartender. My Clan deserved this second chance. Frankie deserves this second chance."

"She does. But I cannot help her now. I will have to apologize when she comes through here. I know it's almost over, for her. Poor Lady… I miss her too."

The Bartender's starry fur seemed to deflate when her shoulders slumped.

"Nobody deserves what that ailment is. I cannot help your Clan. I cannot help Frankie, not anymore. But I can help you. And you can start over, turn my abandoned home into something good. You can be the Leader you looked up to in your Clan. You can do a lot of good."

"I can… but I'm tired, Bartender." They sighed. "I'm tired of fighting."

"And that's why you shouldn't do it alone, and you won't. Even if you don't trust those who you didn't raise, think of Mangopaw and Featherpaw. You three can support each-other."

Mangopaw and Featherpaw.

And Minha.

And his kittens.

And Frankie when she was here.

Oddie has to do better. They have to have a better life than what they have lived through.

"I won't be comfortable being called 'Oddstar'."

"You don't have to."

The Bartender stepped closer, her pawsteps leaving no ripples on the mirror-like water surface.

Oddie was stiff, closing their eyes as the brightness of the Bartender's pelt blinded them. They felt heat on their forehead, prickling like warm sand.

"With my life, I give you Compassion. Always choose kindness no matter what you do, as you will never meet someone who was not marked by the hardships of life.

A newfound energy blossomed in Oddie's soul. They had the same heart as a kit, wanting to do everything in and for their Clan. They were so ready to live, and after surviving for so long, they were ready to make up for the lost time.

A tear rolled down their fluffy cheek. They felt alive again. Their soul was set ablaze. They had to live for those who didn't.

"Now go. Minha's doing all he can to revive you. Don't make him wait more. Your body can take it."

"Thank you, Bartender."

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Oddie didn't stand up, their head placed comfortably on their front paws. They debated talking about it. They don't know what happened and why they were paralyzed and why they saw that. But they can't be the only one with this knowledge in case it happens to someone else. "Do… Do you know what StarClan is?"

"Mangopaw and Featherpaw talk about it. It's your theory for the afterlife, right?"

Theory? Oddie wanted to protest, but they couldn't. The Stars have never spoken to them, but everyone else in camp seemed so sure of themselves when they said that StarClan guides them. A light did guide them, but it wasn't the stars. It was the reflection of twoleg-made lights, their power over the dark of the night.

Even as a healer, they never spoke to StarClan. Is it because they can't see Silverpelt in the city? Is it because the Stars cover their eyes when they look down at the situation of their former Clan? Is it because they are not a legitimate leader or healer in their eyes? When have StarClan ever done something for them?

The only one who ever did something for them was the Bartender, and she swears that she is not dead or from StarClan.

"Yeah," they nodded, finally replying to Minha's question. "Does StarClan speak to loners and kittypets if they are healers?"

"Not that I know of, why?"

"I think I… I don't know. I don't think it was a vision like the healer of my former Clan used to have. Or at least I think they used to have them. The Bartender was in my head for a while. I started seeing things. She spoke to me."

"What did she say?"

Oddie told every minute detail of their vision. Every word, every image, every bright color, every reaction of the Bartender. Minha listened attentively. They didn't think he believed everything, but he was trying in good faith to udnerstand what it could mean.

"Why would she talk about protection? What would cause a disturbance?"

"I don't know. I'm guessing anything that is about the realm of the dead? She says she's not dead, but I'm intimately convinced that she is a spirit."

"That's my conclusion as well. But if the disturbance is because of the dead, how would it impact her? What would cause enough death to cause a disturbance in the afterlife?"

"I don't know. She also did not know what was going on. Maybe her powers weakened or—" Oddie jumped to their paws, facing Minha with wide eyes.

A moment of silence hung between them, making their ears ring.

"Do you think the disturbance could be the ailment? Could she be gone because someone is sick?"

Minha wanted to protest, but he had no counter-argument. The realization that they might have one or more infected cats within their ranks crept up on them like insects in their flesh.

"I'm never going to escape it, will I?"

Minha looked down. "We have to live with it."

Oddie curled up, a wave of confused emotions washed over them. Minha drew closer, wrapping their fluffy tail around their co-healer and licking their forehead. "I doubt I can do much, but I will help."

"Thank you."

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"Yes, Oddie?"

"You must know. What happens when you die?"

"I am not dead." She protested, almost childishly.

Isn't she? Oddie decided not to ask any further questions about it. If she wants to say that she isn't dead, then so be it. They don't know what she is either.

She could be anything. She is sometimes corporeal, sometimes spectral. She can disappear as she pleases. She knows what liquid are in each discarded bottle. She knows what this place was used for. She knew the twolegs which used to live here.

"Then what do you see, from your point of view?"

"I cannot show you the full extent of it. A cat of flesh and bones would not be able to understand it. I see stars and constellations. I see the rot. I see ooze and a deep, dark ocean. I see every layer of reality layering on one-another. I see your connections to other cats, your feelings, the blood rushing through your heart and your veins. It is continually flowing, continually peeling away and revealing something new. I do not understand it, myself, but I can see it."

"Can you see those from my family? Or at least my connections to them?"

"Some stronger than others. I see a dark tabby with a short tail. I see a dark calico. I see a lilac and white cat with a curly pelt. One of their names starts with 'Doe' but I know nothing about them. But their presence is warm and comforting, but sometimes painful, like breaking a claw."

Doestar. It was Doestar, our leader and guide. And Kindleheart, the medicine cat. And Whiteclaw, my parent.

"Is that it?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "You would not understand what else I can see."

"And what about… what happened to them?"

"To those you knew?" Her ear twitched. "They had the same ailment as the pets in this twoleg clan. They started to rot. Or that is how I can best describe it."

Rot.

This notion made Oddie deeply uncomfortable, imagining those he knew wilting away as they speak. Starting with the gut, turning moldy and green, maggots crawing in their flesh… They shook their head.

"That's… enough of an answer. Thanks, Bartender."

She nodded. "Are you going hunting too? Frankie has left a while ago."

"I might. Hold down the den for us."

"Always."

The Bartender was always a sight to behold. Frankie lazily turned around, burning the image of this she-cat, glowing like the sun, into her memory. She has always believed in the supernatural. She knows in her heart that there are some higher powers at play. By finding her way back to the Bartender's nest, she is convinced that she has been called here to serve this being of light.

She isn't sure how to describe it. It is more than a fondness. Adoration would be too strong. Loyalty could fit, but it lacks the affection Frankie has for her guardian.

"You seem troubled. May I help you with something?"

The Bartender's voice echoed, as if it wasn't hers. As if it was coming from everywhere inside the nest and from inside Frankie's head.

The pale tabby sat up. Every movement was calm and calculated, trying not to strain herself too much. Laying down for a talk would be impolite, as the light she-cat was standing up. The least she could do was look at her to have a proper conversation – manners lacking in Oddie, of course.

"I haven't been sleeping well, lately."

"What is on your mind? Maybe I can help you."

"I'm not sure. I believe I'm too tired to sleep. I don't know if that is possible, but that's how I feel. Tired at night and in the day, irritable, snappy…" She looked down. "Beauty, I don't like being like this. I wih I could have one good night's sleep."

"Is it due to something in the bar?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Tell me, do you sleep? What happens, when you are not here?"

Despite her lack of facial features, Frankie understood that the Bartender was mulling over an answer, trying to carefully select her words.

"I have never put a lot of thought into it. It almost feels like lucid dreaming. I am everywhere and I am nowhere. When I join you and Oddie in the Bar, it feels like waking up after a long nap."

"Is this what dying is like?"

"I am not dead…"

The Bartender's tail twitched, her sentence left incomplete.

"I wouldn't mind it. It sounds peaceful. Spending the rest of eternity coming and going as you please, lost in a dream with people to keep you company, it doesn't seem so bad."

The Bartender relaxed, their fur shining a little brighter.

"You are right. As long as we stick together and care about each-other, everything will turn out okay in the end."

"I hope so. Please don't abandon Oddie or I, Beauty. I don't know what I would do without you or your guidance…"

"I am tied to this place. Even if I wanted to, I cannot leave. You and Oddie are stuck with me."

"I suppose I would not want it any other way… Please excuse me."

Frankie lowered herself to a more comfortable position. She hoped that the Bartender wouldn't mind her impolite behavior. She was falling asleep as they were talking, and despite knowing that she would be woken up in a few minutes, she knew she had to get every second of sleep she could.

"Do not excuse yourself. Please rest your shoulders."

"How did you know— Of course you know, Beauty. You know everything."

The Bartender settled down a cat-tail away from her denmate.

"And I know that you need some rest. Close your eyes. Do not worry. I will keep this place safe as best as I can."

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Are you sure?

A twoleg walks in front of them as they're walking back home? Mad. Frankie asking them to move something in the bar? Mad. A noise echoing from behind the bar? Mad. The fact that they can't find a comfortable position to curl up in? Mad.

They didn't want anyone talking to them, or seeing them, or interacting with them. They wanted a break from the world.

It's exhausting.

All they want to do is curl up in a corner of the bar and sleep until they feel better. This anger is tiring. They have no way to control it. They can't just bottle it up.

The Bartender was sorting through the glass containers on a wooden surface.

Oddie doesn't know what these were originally used for. All they know is that they're useful to patch up a cut. But the Bartender has a strange affinity for them. She won't drink from them, but Oddie has noticed that she liked mixing their contents. She said it's a hobby of hers.

They should find a hobby as well. The Bartender has her weird mixes. Frankie has her late night walks who-knows-where. But them? They don't do anything.

The bartender replaced the bottles in their initial positions. The drink she made had a pretty golden-brown color, like the wasteland deserts at sunset. She sniffed it, as if hesitating to take a sip. It reeked of moldy fruit, but it was pretty to look at.

Oddie got up and padded closer to the strange beverage.

"Do you want to try it?"

She asked, pushing it towards them.

They shook their head no, staring into the honey-colored liquid. If this patched up their wounds, they don't want to imagine how sick they would be if they ever decided to taste it.

"… Why do you mix these? How did you decide that this would be your hobby?" They asked.

Her ear twitched, specks of glowing dust flicked off its tip.

"I do not know. I guess it brings me comfort? I may have seen someone do that… I think. I find that the colors mix nicely. The fizzing is a pleasant sound. Sometimes, it smells good, too."

Oddie nodded, absently staring into the glass.

"Oh how you've grown, little friend. You must be around two years old, now."

"What's a year?"

"A season cycle. About twelve moons."

Twelve moons… They have already been here for a little over a season cycle and a half. And what good did that bring them? They're not sure. There's no future in this bar. Aside from the comfort each cat makes for themself, there is no warmth. No friendship. Just cohabitation. The Bartender is friendly and saved their life. Is that reason enough to stay? Would it have been better to run back to the desert wastelands? Would it be better to disappear?

Oddie's chest grew heavy. There is so much they want to blurt out to the Bartender. They like talking to her. They long for connection. They long for exploration. They need to see what is going on in this giant twoleg camp. They want to meet other cats.

But how?

They're a scared, lost kit who stumbled into a world that, even a season cycle and a half later, they barely know. They clenched their jaw. Would it be better to isolate themself instead? Every cat, every cat, they met has greeted them with hostility. And they're no better – they did not trust Frankie at first, they reacted like a lost child, and what good did that bring them? They were almost a season cycle old, they should have known better. It lead to them being stolen away by twolegs, lifted and handled, prodded by sharp items, and locked away.

Can the Bartender read their thoughts, right now? Oddie has been silent for a while and she has too. They cleared their voice.

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