#frosteye

A bit eagerly, she bounded along the prey trail. Squirrels, voles, mice, rodents of the sorts that she had been learning about. But at any time she turned her head down to gaze at the bloody little bodies, a pair of black little eyes gazed back at her. Dead. It honestly made her wonder if all smaller animals were afraid, too, of what lies for them after death. Do they have their own religion, separate from The Wood? What other hope do they have?

…Or were they so afraid of death, that they abandoned any hope for an afterlife, because they were too scared of what came next?

Snowypaw continued to tread forward. Whoever hunted down these small animals must’ve had plenty of time to do that, she might’ve passed at least seven already. But she was still in the forest, nowhere near what she was expecting. And it became more clear that she wasn’t going anywhere special, she’s reached the last prey.

Now this was certainly not like an ordinary little rodent, not even close to one. Larger body, small claws, long limbs. She sniffed the bite marks on it, a brown hare. It wasn’t impossible for a cat to catch one, but at the same time, it wasn’t as easy as swallowing the very thing. They were quick, always on their feet, and always on the edge. Everything was a threat to them. And their eyes said it all. Always the eyes. They were huge and soulful and aware of everything. Looking at its eyes now, it was like looking at a reflection. After all, Snowypaw was also a little thing.

The only thing left was to wait for a sign. So she stood her ground, steady, balanced, prepared. No way was she going to back down if she’s reached this far. The young silver cat had a determined face put on, and it read that she was fearless.

“I’m done! I followed your silly trail!” She called out, but silence was the only response she got. “Now come and face me and we’ll fight!”

Her tail lashed behind her and she extended out her claws. She circled around the hare with her back arched, eyes darting around her surroundings. The world was bigger than her, and if she wasn’t driven by the courage she built up within her body, she’d feel so small right now.

“I said come out! You wanted me here! Here I am!” She yelled louder. Much so that she barely heard the leaves waving behind her.

In an instant, she felt sharp claws dig into her back, and she opened her mouth to unleash a painful yowl. Snowypaw fell to the floor, pinned by heavy weight, staggering to lift herself up. Given no time to think, her first response was to fight back. With faltering strength, using what little energy, she held up and tried bucking the intruder off. Her whole body lashed  and jerked and did all that could be done to escape, blood was starting to trickle down from her neck and back, her throat began to close up. But she fought. Now, the only thing on her mind was to run. To defend herself, but to run. As soon as she could feel the claws loosen up, it would be the first thing she would do.

But the claws did not even budge off of her fur. They sank deeper, heavier. She threw herself in an effort to throw them off, it nearly worked. Her moons of training did something right. But this wasn’t training - she was really going to die.

Intense pain shot her at the back of her neck, a large bite clamped down onto the side of her neck and tugged hard. The jaws tore apart her fur and flesh like she was weak prey, claws scratching at her shoulders. The intruder yanked her down to the grassy floor, green and red. Blood emerged from her neck.

Snowypaw tried to calm her breathing, control herself, so she could get up and run away back home where she could be safe. But she can’t. She wasn’t safe. She never was. She was meant to die like any other animal. And die in fear.

She stared up, the blue sky above her being swallowed up by darkness in her vision. And the world was suddenly so, so cold.

———

“Awake, little cat.”

Snowypaw awoke, standing up to her paws. Stiff, but there was life in her eyes again, and the coldness that encased her body had departed.

She looked and she saw. A sparkling world surrounded her. The world she always saw in her many dreams. This was clearly no forest. She could tell because there were no words that could be sought out in the world to properly describe what she was seeing. Twinkling blue with no moon, heavenly lights without sun, it was a land of great celestial magnitude and prospering of an otherworldly aura that tickled her senses until they were just a numbing feeling. Her ground felt soft, but no grass below. The path laid ahead looked like a long glowing path, and every step engulfed her paws.

“Brave Snowypaw, please do not fret.”

The young cat jumped around and met face to face with the looming divine flame in the shape of a cat. That was new in her dream. She’s heard this voice before, but never seen. The presence of it was burningly bright, she backed away, tail bristling, eyes widened despite the immense power enlightening her rounded face.

“We are expecting you, but not just yet.”

“Not yet?” She repeated it as if she did not understand what it said. “I died?”

“Not quite so.” The ‘cat’ tilted its head. “You are still above the snow.”

“I don’t know what that means.” She was being truthful. “Wait!” She suddenly protested, before it could vanish. “What happened? What killed me?”

The cindering cat did not answer, it looked at her. Then it cooed like a dove.

“Not a stranger, not an intruder has brought your end.” It said, now more firmly. “The cat you know is not your friend.”

Hearing those words made her heart sink a bit. She almost spoke back to question it, but it had more to say.

“Your healer will die. So answer the calls. Listen to our words. Or allow your clan to fall.”

Her vision blacked out once again. Only this time, there was a ringing in her ear. The same ringing after every dream.

You are not one of them.

                   You are not one of them.

                                               You are not one of them.

                                                                           You are not one of them.

———

Snowypaw laid atop a nest of moss, leaves, and a few white flowers. She blinked, taking in the family scents and sights. She was back at the new camp, and she was pretty sure she was in the healer’s den. Just then, she winced harshly. Her legs ached and her neck hurt terribly. Using bands of long, thick grass, with cobwebs to stick together, soft moss was bandaged on her neck and tied around to stay in place. But that didn’t calm the hurt all over. At least blood wasn’t leaking out anymore.

Her vision was blurry, she must’ve been asleep for who knows how long, but she saw Gladetrail, the plump brown striped cat with her in the den. From hearing her hiss, the older she-cat turned her head.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” She asked the young cat.

Snowypaw blinked again, a little disoriented, but she understood her. In fact, she understood her so well that she could not believe how well-composed she was to her situation.

“How do you think I feel?!” Snowypaw lashed out. The cat almost stood up, but it ached her to even try moving a muscle. “I almost died! I feel horrified!”

As she went on, another voice joined in. “She’s alive?” Riverleaf bounded into the healer’s den, eyes welling up and shouting with joy. “Snowy! You’re alive!”

He crouched down beside the silver cat, tucking his tail around hers and resting his head on her shoulder. Snowypaw softened up, and she wasn’t angry–not as angry anymore. Even with those feelings pushed aside, she wanted to hiss at her father, and berate him for not being there when she was attacked. Why wasn’t he there? He promised to be watching her. Rather than feeling comforted, she felt a little lost from where she was.

“I’m so sorry, Snowypaw. I’m so sorry.” He went on. “I don’t know how I lost sight of you. I can’t even imagine what must’ve happened. This is all my fault.” Snowypaw silently agreed with him. “I’m so glad you’re alive.” 

Thereafter, familiar cats would step into the healer’s den, all with smiling faces. She should be used to it, but this time around, it felt weird getting all the attention.

“So she is back up!” Dawnburst meowed, coming into view. “Are you feeling better, kit?”

The young cat opened her mouth but was interrupted by a lick in her ear, the brown cat Twigfreckle. “I always knew that you’d wake up! All of us did.”

“Me and Gladetrail.” Frosteye crept in between the two cats. “We found your body while we were on an herb patrol. We took you back to camp, but you looked…” His voice stammered, like he was holding back on morbidly describing the scene.

“Your wounds were very deep on your neck and shoulders.” Gladetrail remarked. “And your body had traces of wolfish smell.”

Snowypaw’s blue eyes widened. “A wolf attacked me?”

“Maybe.” She told her. “If that’s what you saw.”

“That explains why I was smelling dog in parts of the forest.” Riverleaf’s ears twitched. “I thought it was just the Twolegs bringing with them dog-pets. But if there are wolves…”

“They could come to camp!” Twigfreckle sprang up. “What if they’re already invading our territory?”

“Maybe now that half of our land has been destroyed, they could try to overpower us.” Riverleaf mewed solemnly. 

“They won’t do that.” Leader Fawnstar emerged. She had the entire clan’s attention. “Our patrols drove them to the mountains—The Arches. And they haven’t shown up since.”

“Our numbers were strong then.” Dawnburst reminded her. “The wolves must’ve heard about the fire. They could take advantage of our limitations.”

He was given a stern look from Fawnstar. “That’s only if word is spreading. And you haven’t been sharing our weakness to your out-of-clan friends, have you?”

“No!” The ghost-black tabby’s fur bristled. Fawnstar looked skeptical.

“From now on, no one leaves camp alone.” Fawnstar declared.

Riverleaf nodded. He stood upright and tall over Snowypaw’s body. “It’s for the best.”

“But.” Snowypaw went silent once all eyes focused back on her, so much they were boring holes in her. She stuttered. “Wh-What about my… I-I was supposed to…” Was it even worth it to talk about the assessment anymore?

“We’ll get to it soon. Trust me.” Riverleaf insisted, giving her a reassuring lick on the side of her ear. “But you have to understand why we can’t go forward with that now. It’s just not safe.”

Snowypaw made an irritable whine, to which Riverleaf rested his tail over hers. He still cared. She always knew he did, but why wasn’t he there to save her? Why only Gladetrail and Frosteye?

As she thought about Gladetrail, her eyes turned to look at the brown sokoke cat, and she made an inaudible gasp. The memory of her dream lingered in her mind. The figure, the warning… Was Gladetrail really to die?

“She’s had enough.” Gladetrail spoke up among the other cats. Snowypaw nearly jumped, she thought the elderly healer must’ve read her mind somehow. “All visitors—family and friends—are to leave now.”

And with that, the cats, practically the entire clan, all padded out of the den. But Riverleaf stayed for a minute to give Snowypaw one last embrace, crouching to sit his chin on her shoulder, and shortly like the rest he left the two in peace.

“Now, then.” Gladetrail spoke. “Take all the rest you need. I’ll be checking on your wounds and cleaning it for the next few moons. Let me know if there is anything I can help with.”

The brown she-cat gave the cat a kind pat on the head with her paw. Snowypaw felt less worrisome, but the thought remained in the back of her head. She laid there, watching her healer sit by herself at the other side of the den. Newleaf meant new stocks, and she was happily arranging the new herbs and sorts that she had been bringing all moon long. But her little ears were attentive, constantly fidgeting, not out of fear for an inevitable death, but out of care for others and if she senses something is wrong—care for her and for what troubles her.

There were so many things troubling Snowypaw right now, but she couldn’t say any one of those troubles. She nearly died, now, she’s hearing that their only healer is going to die. ‘Just another dream’ she tried calming herself. But again with that same excuse, it did not soothe her perplexity.

The image of the shining, immaculate cat-like flame lingered in her mind. Her eyes were sore enough, one more look at the physical presence and she could’ve gone blind herself. Still, what it told her, it was surely a warning. A warning for what? From who?

Cats who have Starclan’s Promise are to ascend to Starclan and act as the spiritual guides for mortals below. It is fate that allows them to inherit this promise, beginning since the days of the womb. But cats who are directly given the blessings of Starclan are fated to have this promise as well. They live in Starclan for a time. They must guide the living cat of their choosing for as long as they need the help, and once the cat dies, then their bodies ascend once more—A star, forever they remain in the stretching night sky.

On the other paw, cats who do not have this promise are fated to become Ancestry to The Wood. After death, they do not ascend, but decrease into the atmosphere. During burial, their bodies have already taken the earth’s acceptance, and there in the dirt they will become one with the forest. They serve an eternal duty to ensure the natural order of the wood. They are the reason for rain, snow, blooming flowers, and changing leaves. And always have they maintained the natural order without fail.

Gladetrail will never truly understand the brilliant chemistry of nature. She has a paw in the promise of Starclan, numerous times has she earned the blessings of Starclan as a faithful healer, and she patiently awaits the day to guide cats who tread the floor as she now does. But for now, the elderly cat will serve her clan through and through, battling the hardships of caring for the entire clan and the stress that it is constantly returning to her. Lately, Gladetrail has been deeply troubled.

It is rare for the wise, always insightful brown cat to become evidently bothered by events. She had not been put up with so much stress ever since Verbenastar’s untimely death, the previous leader of Lushclan. Gladetrail sat in silence by the entrance of the mossy grotto. Her tired eyes, always shimmering like sunlit ice, were watching pouring rain, all while she listened to the sounds of water trickling and dripping off rocks and leaves. The sun was close to rising, as she could tell through the few openings that the looming trees gave, many dull green leaves left blotches of the purple hued sky for view.

On the other side of the camp were nests for the warriors, woven with readily available materials within the territory. Bracken, dry leaves, ferns, all tightly bound together by moss and sticks. Similar den construction was practiced in the former camp, only they looked more vibrantly green than the duller, dry colors the cats use. However, because it was Newleaf, a few white flowers were graciously adorned on the nests. The warriors were asleep, as was the clan’s only apprentice, who slept in a separate den away from the older cats. And there was Fawnstar, separated from the rest, soundly within a crevice in the rocky walls, a naturally formatted nest that took not much effort to prepare other than adding moss for comfortable bedding. The calm atmosphere of both the camp and outside added to the serenity that accompanied Gladetrail. It helped clear her head of things, and soon she will resume with a calmer mind. Though, it was hard to tell what was exactly perplexing her mind.

———

But it was the young tom named Frosteye who was also up this early. He was gray with mackerel tabby stripes, small and quite soft, but none the more soft than the white fluffy chest he sported. He looked not just young but quite average looking compared to his fellow clanmates; Twigfreckle, Riverleaf, and Dawnburst. He was awoken by the heavy raindrops pouring down the rocks outside, and remained awake when his eyes, one bright blue and one dark copper, peered out of the den and saw the stout brown cat sitting beside none other than herself and a few rocks and ferns. His mind told him that she must be meditating as she has often done, or perhaps conversing with her spiritual guide, but she appeared rather gloomy, even this far away. The sight made him restless and worriful, as any cat may be, but Frosteye was particularly a worrier—he could not rest now.

The tom crept out of the den, careful to not wake the other cats beside, and slowly stepped his way over to Gladetrail. Perhaps not as secretive as he hoped for, the older cat already knew of his presence the moment he took a few steps out the nest.

“Young warrior.” Gladetrail meowed kindly enough. “You need energy to hunt after the weather. Why are you up?”

Frosteye jumped up to his feet. “The rain was bothering me. I can’t sleep.”

She hummed with amusement, turning her fluffy head towards him. “Don’t let the rain keep you from getting your rest.” He saw a spark of joy come back to her face. “After all, it is our ancestors duty to make rain fall from the sky. Blame it as you may, take to heart that this weather is a sign of our ancestors' awareness of our turmoil.” Her words were long winded and spoken like a book. But not even a kit would be bored by her talk. Her voice was sweet and knowing, like a wise teacher, and she expressed genuine love for the wonderful things she spoke about.

The gray tabby stepped closer until he was beside her and took his seat. “But what if there is thunder and wind?” His face had worry. “Or what if the rain caused a flood? Would the ancestors do that?”

Gladetrail stretched a gentle smile. She was not let down by his doomful thinking. “The ancestors would never put us in a situation that they knew we could not handle. In that way, they show us kindness.” She outstretched a paw outside, rain trickled down off of it. “If there comes a flood, it is not up to them to stop it. It would be up to us to find the solution ourselves. We learn new things about our lives that way.” Gladetrail took her paw away and set it back down. “You will take that role someday. Everyone here will.”

“Except for you and Fawnstar.” He softly remarked. “You’re going to go to Starclan alone without the ancestors.”

“I won’t need my ancestors anymore.” She shook her head thoughtfully.

“Who will protect you?”

“I won’t need protection when I’m off the ground. I’m going to be just like Rabbitcoat.”

The slip of the name confused the tom. “Who’s Rabbitcoat?”

Gladetrail’s smile brightened up as if she expected him to ask that question. “My guide.” She answered. “He visits me in dreams and in visions, sometimes while I’m awake—You have a guide, too.”

“I do?” He wondered for a moment, trailing off. “I thought they… But I don’t have a cat who shows up in my dreams.”

“Maybe not now. But when you really need the help from an outside being, then you will meet your guide.” She looked somewhere else. Farther away, and she suddenly became distant. “I’ve not seen Rabbitcoat in a while.”

Frosteye wondered if this must be why Gladetrail looked troubled. Why hasn’t her guide spoken to her? Wouldn’t she have gotten a message after the fire? He was just about to say something to reassure her, but Gladetrail spoke before him.

“I can only pray for him to say something to me. I know he’s watching, but I wish I could just get a sign…” Her tone grew quiet for a moment. “My younger years are far behind me. My guide wants to rest. I believe I need a successor.”

“I’ll be it.” He replied with firmness.

“Young warrior.” She began. “You passed your apprenticeship not too long ago. You mustn’t give up on the path you’ve worked for just for the sake of another. I greatly admire your devotion, Frosteye, continue to cultivate it, but know that my path is not yours to tread.” She quickly spoke over him. “Until there is a message, then we will know.”

Frosteye held back speaking—she was right. Deep down, the young warrior knew that he always wanted to be a warrior, no matter how passive his natural temperament may be, it’s his duty to protect the clan. If he gave up being a warrior now, there will be fewer cats left to defend the clan.

“I just want to help.” He still insisted. Gladetrail didn’t look at him. She was staring at something unreachable. “It wouldn’t hurt to learn a few tips on medicine.”

The elderly she-cat still did not look at him, her expression becoming weary, as if losing all energy, but she had the strength to lift up her chin to watch the heavy rain. Frosteye expected her to say something, an answer to his offer, but there was not. She only let out a quiet sigh through her pink nose, and that was the last of it. The conversation ended and they were left with silence, both looking out and silently watching rain fall. Neither looked eye to eye, no matter how much Frosteye wanted her to look at him and tell him what she was thinking about. She was unreadable but her head was surely filled with many things. One can only wonder what sort of extraordinary things were contained in the mind of a cat destined for spiritual matters, but one cannot bear the stress of those sort of extraordinary things clouding the mind like a never-ending dream.

———