What is Real [Solo]

Hoo-hoo hoo hooooo!

An owl hooting gently pulled Bloodstrike from the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. Laying on the hard, cold surface beneath him, the Skyclan deputy's eyes eased open slowly. He had to force them open, as they had crusted over from long periods of keeping them shut. A dark, blurry scene was there to greet him, with only a tiny bit of silver light spilling out across the earthy floor. He inhaled through his nose and felt the frigid air burn all of the way down to the back of his throat. He realized then that his jaws had been parted slightly while he lay there, possibly for hours. Maybe days? Time blended together ever since he fell from that tree. He barely remembered the whirlwind of claws and teeth as he plummeted into that sea of eyes. Then pain. Then nothing. He thought he may have awoken a few times after that, though the location he was in always seemed slightly different than the last time he opened his eyes. Bloodstrike couldn't tell what was a dream or what had actually occurred anymore.

He thought he remembered Asylum cats bring him moss balls of water and occasionally food. The memories were fuzzy at best, but he thought some of them had come in after he finished eating and tended to his wounds. Why couldn't he remember? It was like he had been in a deep sleep, woken up a few times during the night, but too groggy to focus enough on what was going on around him, so back into the dream world he went. The few scattered memories that Bloodstrike did have were always after he felt like he had slept for moons. He would bring himself slowly and painfully to his feet to eat whatever carcass of animal they had put inside this... whatever this was... with him. He would eat, gain some strength back only moments before his mind yearned for rest once more. One time he had caught an unknown cat beside him. With a start, Bloodstrike had lashed out with claws and teeth, though his body felt heavy and his movements were sluggish. He couldn't remember if he had actually injured the cat. His memory was gone after that.

Bloodstrike smacked his lips and swallowed, though there was nothing to swallow in his dry mouth. His vision was blurry. His ears had a hard time locating the exact location of noises. His body ached. Oh how his body hurt. Every movement was a struggle in agony. Still, he willed himself to roll onto his belly. The sudden shock from the coldness of the ground just beside him snapped his brain awake a bit more and his vision became a bit sharper. Darkness... and trees? Were those trees blocking the light? The sky above him was blacker than he had ever seen it, even on nights with a new moon and cloud cover were not this dark. Is this what the Place of No Stars is like? Is that what happened to me? He thought he could see bundles of shadow flicking swiftly across the tiny bit of available light.

It would make sense if Bloodstrike was in the Dark Forest. While he obeyed the warrior code so long as it had been convenient for him, he'd never shown much appreciation for Starclan. He had voiced his opinion before, though not nearly as much as his thoughts had roared his dislike for whatever deities may be watching him. He tried to stand, but an explosion of pain brought forth a sharp growl from him and his body sank back down to the ground. The shadows suddenly stopped and blocked the light completely. He squinted and tried to see the shadow that approached him better. "You wanna fight?" Bloodstrike asked it, though his voice was hardly a croak and his tongue felt like it moved far too slowly. He might not have even said the words right, or slurred them. The shadow was gone as quick as it came and Bloodstrike rolled back over onto his side. His stomach growled in protest just then, but he had no will to try to stand back up to go hunt.

I must be in the Dark Forest... I guess it serves me right. Bloodstrike's eyes closed again and he felt exhaustion creep in on him, despite the rumbling from his empty stomach. As long as that shadow didn't come back to bother him he was content to lay there and go back to sleep. Food would have to wait.


Scrrreeeeeeeeeeee!

An owl screech tore Bloodstrike away from the blackness this time. He awoke with a start, gasping for breath with burning in his throat. Instinctively, he coughed, trying to dislodge whatever was causing him pain. His heart raced. His stomach rolled. A small puddle of vomit lie where his face just was. He stood weakly and staggered sideways to get away from it, only to falter and drop to his belly. His body shook and his skull felt like it was full of bees. His eyes snapped around, trying to pierce the total darkness around him, but to no avail. Then... footsteps. They were rapidly approaching. He couldn't see them... but he could hear them. Their sound was muffled as it someone had cupped his ears, but as soon as they got what he felt like was less than a fox-length away, he could figure out where they were.

And then eyes. Gleaming eyes in the dark... lower than his. They were smaller than he was... whatever they were. They were coming at him... coming at him fast. With a surge of adrenaline, Bloodstrike pushed himself to his feet and hissed, a pitiful noise even to his impaired ears. It didn't stop them. They were coming. Bloodstrike leaned forward to charge at one, but more or less staggered forward in an attempt to start clawing at the... things. A muffled smack and recoil up one of his forelimbs told him he had struck home. Pain exploded all around him, giving him a flashback to when he fell from the tree. Weight was upon him swiftly and he was pinned to the ground. Is this your plans for me, Starclan? To force me to relive my death over and over? Still... the pain was still not nearly as bad as it had been the first time he felt it. He didn't know why, but he wasn't about to think about it too much. Bloodstrike snapped wildly at the things around him, still nothing more than floating eyes with extremely faint outlines that made no sense or shape to him. His paws were held down.

Weight suddenly wrought down onto his skull and pinned his head to the cold floor below him. Something was pressed against his sides, his neck, his shoulders and his face. Something soft and wet. The weight on his skull lifted only a bit, just enough that he was able to open his jaws once more. He did, intending to bite at his attackers if he could not claw them. Something spongey and soaked with water was quickly shoved into his mouth. He bit down with full force, so hard in fact that it made his own jaws ache. Water filled his mouth and washed down his bone-dry throat. The sensation surprised him so much that he stopped resisting. He sucked the water greedily from the thing in his mouth... it had to be moss. The weight never left his limbs or his body, but they had allowed him to drink until there was absolutely nothing left in the moss ball. Bloodstrike spat it out once he'd had what he could out of it.

"Get off of me..." He growled, his voice sounding more like his own now that he'd managed to get some moisture in him. The weight never left him. For several tense moments, Bloodstrike took this time to catch his breath and try to slow his rapid heartbeat. There were whispers around him. Normally he'd be able to make out what they were saying since they were so close... but the sounds around him were still muffled and unclear.

"Bloodstrike." A voice said, though it wasn't familiar and sounded almost like Bloodstrike had heard it underwater. Before he could ask it what it wanted... a fresh wave of pain burned away at his ribs. He growled from the pain and struggled against the weights that forced him to remain in place.

"Bloodstrike." More pain ripped down his back, enough that Bloodstrike caterwauled. He struggled more, but to no avail.

"Bloodstrike." Skin tore from a hind leg. He screamed. He struggled. It didn't matter.

"Bloodstrike." Pain. Struggle. Nothing.

"Bloodstrike." Pain. Struggle.

"Bloodstrike." Pain. Struggle.

"Bloodstrike." Pain.



Bloodstrike opened his eyes slowly as silver light danced on the insides of his eyelids. His mind was fuzzy again, but he could see a fuzzy brown body of a squirrel directly in front of him. He rolled to his stomach and the world rolled with him. He dug his claws into the earth to steady himself as if he would be thrown off of the edge of the world if he didn't. Once the room had stopped spinning, Bloodstrike reached out a paw and pulled the squirrel closer to him. He tore into it with greedy haste, blood running down his chin and staining the white fur on his neck. Squirrel had always been his favorite, but it had never tasted as good as it did right at this moment. It was so good in fact that the pain in his body seemed to be melting away into nothingness. Moments after he had finished the squirrel, a sense of calm and serenity overwhelmed him. For once, Bloodstrike felt as if he could draw a full breath and the insecurities that normally plagued his mind were at ease.

A full belly was a blessing. A wonderful thing. He glanced around his dark surroundings, using the aid of the tiny bit of silver light that peaked through the fuzzy trees. The vomit puddle was gone. There were no traces of blood or fur or any reason for him to think that he had even been in any danger. How long ago had that been when the eyed shadows attacked him? Was it a few days ago? A moon ago? Bloodstrike couldn't recall it. He did remember pain after hearing his name chanted like some initiation ritual. Did the Dark Forest Prowlers decide that he could be one of them? Is that why everything was alright right now? Or were they giving him false hope to crush him again in the future? For some reason, Bloodstrike couldn't think much beyond that, He felt as if there was an actual psychological wall that prevented him form thinking about it. It was a wall that he had no desire to tear down.

Instead, the giant tom lie back down and sighed. Maybe it would be horrible, maybe it wouldn't be. But for now, he was content. He was not in pain. He was not hungry. The blood from the squirrel had quenched his thirst. Despite how fuzzy and tried his mind was, Bloodstrike felt fine. His eyes closed again once more, accepting the full embrace of darkness again. The forest, his clan and his family never even came to mind.