Siren's Song

Slowly, slowly, the ground beneath Shrikestep's paws gave way to something more stable. There was no more freezing mud crawling half-way up her forelegs and threatening to swallow her whole; the wetland had given way to soft earth, though the steam that rolled off the bog had yet to dissipate, even as she trekked further away. If anything, the mist thickened, clouding around her so densely she could hardly see her own whiskers. With a grumble and a shake of her pelt, the she-cat persisted. Her paws caught against tangled roots and jutting stones, and more than a few times she felt she would lose her balance entirely; still, she persisted. There was nothing else for her to do, except to walk and attempt to comb the shards of ice from her fur. Something in the fog beckoned... and Shrikestep dutifully followed. A warmth had started to swell from the shroud, and with a low rumble of interest, she quickened her pace. Cold clung to her bones, and the echoing promise of heat was all-too tempting; and all-too late, as the fog began to thin, the molly realized that it wasn’t anything like sun-warmth. It was the energy of presence, of a still-beating heart. Her paws ground to a halt, and Shrikestep found herself worming between roots to conceal herself. Had another cat ventured out here? She hadn't seen anyone else in... Her ear flicked. How many moons, seasons had she been wandering this dark expanse, silent and alone?

No longer. She exhaled, and a plume of air rose from her maw. Pulling herself forward, she stared ahead with wide, intent eyes, waiting for her visitor to take shape.

Hollypaw stumbled through the mist, confused and grumbling. “...what am I doing here? Dumb rocks. Dumb mist.”

It felt chilly here, too. But not like biting, frozen-whiskers cold — it was cold like it came from inside of you, that left you feeling just above a shiver. A bit unnerving. It made Hollypaw think of running, to maybe get some warmth in her muscles, but—

Ouch!

She tripped. Again.

Her jaw ached from where she hit the ground, legs pinned beneath her body like a downed bird. “Dumb, mouse-brained roots.” It was ridiculous. She couldn’t see past her own whiskers! But then, sitting on her haunches wasn’t going to get her any closer to home...

Ravenclaw would probably raise her eyes to the sky for guidance, if she were here (and if this was hunting practice).  But she wasn’t. (And wasn’t that weird, Holly being somewhere alone without her mentor?) Either way, Holly was convinced that if she tried to run, she’d brain herself against a rock.

Which... must have been how she got herself here in the first place. Right? ‘Cause Hollypaw… er. Didn’t quite remember. Did I fall from a tree? It felt… hazy. But somehow she woke up here, and there was such thick mist she couldn’t even say where.

With a grunt Hollypaw got up, shaking bits from her dark coat. Her ankle and chin smarted, and she was still cold, but otherwise felt… fine. More than fine. She didn’t even feel hungry. Was that what happened when you hit your head?

Maybe if you were dead, came a Wasp-like quip in her head, and Holly squeaked, nearly tumbling over a thick root. That couldn’t be true, could it?! She was just... um, having a foggy morning. Yeah! Waking up in strange places, not remembering how she got there...

Hollypaw grimaced a little. Yeah. Totally normal.

But her legs were the same as always, still solid looking. And she felt alive. There was no memory of pain... No, just of falling asleep. (And only old cats died of sleep! Hollypaw wasn’t old!) Unless... she was poisoned?! But who would do that?! “Ugh, stop it me, I can’t be dead!” she mumbled to herself. “I’m not even a warrior yet!”

I’m probably just… lost. Yeah! Maybe this is... um, what Thunderclan territory is like? Unease began to creep in, even as she decided that must be it. Of course! On the way to the Moonstone, she’d seen glimpses of this place. It was the mist that made it confusing! How she got here... well, that was a mystery. But the most important thing was to focus ahead, not behind.

Hollypaw placed her paws a little shakily, distracted, until she glanced forward to check for rocks — and then screamed. High, brief, strangled.

Yellow eyes stared at her, piercing through the mist. As if...

As if waiting for her.

“Oh Starclan, mouse-brain, fox-dung!” Holly cursed in a yelp, fur on end. She recoiled, but before long caught sight of fur — grey — and something of a face. And Hollypaw flushed. A warrior? In spite of everything, the sight of a feline face was… deeply reassuring. The endless mist made her feel like she was going crazy. “Oh… um, good, sorry. You’re a cat. I didn’t see you there! You shouldn’t lurk around, it’s creepy and you’ll scare someone. Not me, though! You only, uh, surprised me, that’s all.” The face was slightly unnerving, but — and Hollypaw kept going— “You’re Thunderclan, right? I promise I didn’t see the border — I wasn’t stealing or anything. I just want to go home. Er, not like you’d catch anything; your roots suck... sorry.” Hollypaw sucked in a big breath, remembering another cat she’d… clawed over for getting lost across the border. Definitely should have been nicer to Icepaw… “Um, I’m Skyclan, by the way. Hollypaw. Bloodstar’s my grandfather, so… you know, they’re probably looking for me.”

Hesitantly and with a fair bit of muffled complaints, body-heat drew closer. It stumbled, and cursed to itself, and it made Shrikestep's eyes widen with interest. She drew herself forward even more, roots scraping over her back, and she stared on, intent and unblinking. Body-heat was gradually starting to take shape, the form of a small- young? -molly, picking her way through fog and over stone with all the grace of a badger. The visitor drew closer, but before Shrikestep could back herself further into hiding (or shove forward out of the shadows, she hadn't quite decided yet), the little cat shrieked something in terror. Oh. I guess she saw me. Any game there would've been was up, so the large she-cat pulled herself away from the roots, shaking away ice and leaf-rot as she rose to height.

The she-kit set to rambling right away, and a low purr of amusement rose out of Shrikestep's throat as she closed the distance between them. The mention of some cat named Bloodstar made her ears twitch, though a concentrated effort kept her expression neutral. Queens will name their kits anything, these days. And let a cat like that become leader? She let out a snort, and tipped her head to look Hollypaw over appraisingly. SkyClan had certainly become... something, it seemed. "So sorry. I didn't mean to... surprise you," Shrikestep started smoothly, a laugh chasing her words. "Don't worry. I'm not going to carry you back to camp by your tail or anything. You're looking at me like you think I'm going to feed you to a fox!" Another laugh left her, loud and deep.

Settling back into motion, Shrikestep circled the apprentice once slowly, feathery tail tapping against her flank. "What are you doing, then? Wandering around a place like this." Her head tilted earnestly, golden eyes watching unblinkingly. It was a genuine question- what could a cat so young have possibly done to end up here? Certainly, she wasn't dead; life pulsed from under her pelt, hot blood working through her muscles. Shrikestep envied her for that. And even if this Hollypaw had died, she was far too skittish to do anything outlandish enough to land her here.

"Important cats like you shouldn't be out here all alone. What if another warrior had found you?" Shrikestep shrugged slowly. The worst of the ever-present ice always collected in the shaggy fur around her neck and along her tail, and as her shoulders rolled little shards cracked and showered off her. She grimaced, looking uncomfortable with the action, but kept her voice casual and sweet as she went on. "You know, I have a few Clanmates that are always looking to flex their claws... Little apprentices that can't remember their borders are as good an excuse as any." The laugh that came then was more of a giggle, high-pitched and short. "Sorry. You probably didn't need to hear that, but- well, you don't get scared, do you? You look brave. Certainly must be, to be stalking about out here."

Shrikestep moved close again, gently butting Hollypaw's shoulder before slipping away, carrying herself in the direction the apprentice had come from. "Well... I don't hear any patrols coming-" I know no one will come for you here. "So how about this? I make sure you get back to your own territory safely, and you tell me what has you out by your lonesome. I'll even promise not to bite, or take an eye out or anything. I don't think Bloodstar-" She paused, grimacing. The name left an odd name on her tongue. "I don't think Bloodstar would be happy with me, huh?" The molly's plumed tail curled, and she watched Hollypaw intently, eyes glittering with energy she hadn't felt in seasons. Beyond her, the fog swirled, and no stars shone above. She wondered how long it would take the kit to realize they would be walking in circles; she wondered how long the kit would even be here, or if she would stumble off to her own purgatory before Shrikestep could have any fun.

At first, Hollypaw was just relieved. Being in this place was starting to make her nervous, and the idea of someone else here made more sense than Hollypaw, wandering alone in the mist forever. I mean, if someone else is here, it’s got to be real.

Her brief, surreal meeting with Fernpetal aside, that is. But this place isn’t like that. For one, Hollypaw had to travel to the Moonstone. Something… something did tingle in her at the idea. But that wasn’t possible, was it?

But you don’t remember how you got here. It prickled under her skin, as the presence got closer. She wanted to shake herself, but things felt still so hazy. Even still... no. It made more sense for this to be Thunderclan, didn’t it? And me getting lost isn’t that weird. Unfortunately. Either way, she’d know… right?

Assuming they don’t kill me. A reminder of the dog that savaged Oliverain made her shiver. Or the monstrous amalgam she’d thought tore off half her aunt’s face, as a kit.

But when the stranger emerged from the mist, most clearly, their face wasn’t grisly or… had any horrific features. It was actually quite refined. A molly.

The stranger’s fur was a fine silver-grey, longer than Hollypaw’s and her mother’s, with wisps of white at the edges. It was hard to say her age. The eyes glowed, almost eerily, but then that was probably their creepy surroundings. Hollypaw’s fur rose—

And then the strange molly snorted. Laughed, even: deeply and richly, her voice full and pretty and— erk! It broke the rising fear and also made Holly sniff, nose scrunching. The stranger’s eyes seemed cool, assessing, amused.

Interested how Hollypaw got there, but then, I guess that’s your job. But it wasn’t a patrol: just her. It didn’t make it any more comfortable, though, especially as she circled… mentioned how all her Clanmates were vicious, bloodthirsty brutes—

“Yeah, um, I’m not scared of them,” she agreed, voice clearing a bit. Again, the molly seemed amused, and Hollypaw added, almost defiantly, “I’m almost a warrior, you know.”

Regardless of the apprentice’s words, like guiding a kit the warrior molly gently turned her around in the direction… oh, that Hollypaw had come from. Mouse-brain. It felt odd to have this stranger so close, but… at the offer, she said, “...thanks?”

The apprentice tried to remember her manners, but Hollypaw was busy resisting the urge to cover her eye. (She didn’t want to be like aunt Beechfang! Um. Yet.) But the grey-furred warrior was obviously joking. The apprentice glanced at her. Um, probably.

The grimace as the warrior spoke her grandfather’s name couldn’t be faked — and, well, that was good, right? Her Clan leader was scary. But in the good way, that had other cats afraid to ever touch them or SkyClan. The thought gave her some confidence. My family is pretty tough.

The warrior seemed too amused, but not… dangerous, so when the molly began walking, Hollypaw followed. Tentatively. (Since she didn’t want to trip again.) When she came up beside the grey-furred cat’s shoulder, she mewed, “And, um, I would totally tell you how I got here, you see… but I don’t totally remember.” And it still made her uneasy. “It’s just kinda hazy! I think I must’ve fallen asleep — that’s what I remember, anyway. But I don’t know how it brought me here.”

The honestly came forth first, and she’d hoped to maybe remember something as she said it, but… no. And then she flushed, realizing it must sound crazy. “And I swear I’m not lying! I wouldn’t cross over the border, not for no reason. It’s against the code!”

Despite all her chatter and her waffling, Hollypaw followed along willingly. Well, maybe not willing– her movements were tentative and careful. Shrikestep wasn't sure if it was her own presence or the tangle of roote between their paws... or some mix of both. Either way, she was the little molly's only option. And the little molly came, despite whatever reservations she had. Shrikestep gave an approving purr when Hollypaw joined her shoulder.

The earth tingled against Shrikestep's paws. A bolt of temporary heat flashed through her, making her pelt stand briefly on end with a shudder. That growing feeling of energy rose, and she felt hot, and awake, and alive, more than she ever had here. Or maybe more than she had in life, too; the distant memory of heat washing over her as she lay curled in the snow rose to mind, as if to argue against that point. That was different. This is different. This wasn't the kind of heat the warmed her from the chest out, that got under her skin and held her in place. This was present, all-encompassing, but no where near as oppressive; she could feel it against her shoulders, her hips, and she was overwhelmed by a kit-like urge to race forward, to just run and run. She felt she could cross WindClan's moor in a single breath in that moment.

Shrikestep blinked slowly. There was no moor to cross here. There was just Hollypaw, and and icy, suffocating mist. Her tail flicked in agitation.

"Let's talk." It wasn't an offer when she said it, but a gentle demand. The apprentice didn't seem to have any trouble running her mouth, and Shrikestep couldn't say she didn't enjoy something as simple as a conversation more than anything. "I don't care much about you crossing the border," she hummed easily, pausing to gather her weight and hop atop an especially thick root to perch. "We all need to eat, right? Or maybe you just got curious." Shrikestep shrugged, easy warmth in her voice. It was a shame that Hollypaw didn't have anything more to tell her... had she just been dreaming? Was it that easy? A glitter of interest lit the warrior's golden gaze. "You're welcome out here whenever you like." If it was that easy, as falling asleep in her nest, Hollypaw was sure to be back. Shrikestep gave her companion a more fixed look, humming as she looked over who had joined her here tonight.

Her short, dark coat was broken up by twists of orange and thin patches of white. She looked more like she would come creeping out of ShadowClan's marsh, instead of descending (gracelessly, Shrikestep thought with an amused snort) from SkyClan's great trees. As Shrikestep's eyes found Hollypaw's face– still lean and soft with youth, pale eyes not yet dulled by age –the older molly's cheerful expression passed into a wince. It was too quick, before she could remember to keep up her even smile. The moment had passed, and she recovered from her recoil with a huff.

You could have been one of mine. Not all of SkyClan's current queens were terrible. Holly was the perfect name for that molly.

Shrikestep's whiskers twitched, and she twisted to hop off her perch. Something in the back of her head flickered, like a memory trying to force itself to resurface. Nothing came. She felt cold again. She turned to look at Hollypaw again, and stared a haunting moment too long before focusing on the path ahead.

The fog thickened, and it felt colder here, somehow. If she walked the apprentice long enough, would she get lost here? Would she get trapped, running this way and that through the mist, clawing to wake back up in her nest? Maybe not– maybe no matter how far into the dank woods Shrikestep took her, her new charge would wake up with the dawning sun, and she would be left alone again. I can't let that happen.

Clearing her throat, Shrikestep picked up her casual, cheery voice smoothly, as if nothing had just passed over her. "You said you're almost a warrior? That's great, little bird!" Holly was a good name, sure, but maybe a bird would have fit her, too. Thrush, maybe? No... Wren? She didn't like that too much, either. Holly was as good as any. "Brave little cats like you are bound to make their Clan proud. You're going to do great! Maybe you'll even be leader one day!" And take over for that brute. Who names a kit that? Shrikestep paused, making a small hop over a pointed stone. Hum...

"You know, if you want..." Her words drifted and lilted, a light, distant quality to her voice. "You really can come back here. It's okay that we're from different Clans; we all need help sometimes, right? We can hunt together, and split the prey." Almost instinctually, Shrikestep's ears turned outward, pricked for any telltale sign of prey. There was no scratching, no soft snuffling of mice through the bleak foliage. Her ears lowered. "Maybe we can spar! It's good to keep your skills sharp! And you wanna be well-trained before you run into someone that really wants to chase you off, don't you? I can make you an even better warrior than you're already going to be. I can make you SkyClan's best." Her words dripped with glorious promise, and when she turned to look at Hollypaw again– and kept herself from snapping away, thankfully –her piercing stare was alight.

At Holly’s words, the warrior seemed to still. And shiver! Is she upset I don’t remember? Holly’s ears pricked in nervousness as the moment hung — icy and still — before the warrior turned. The sweeping grey fur made the molly seem larger, more imposing. But—

“I don’t care much about you crossing the border.”

“Um... you don’t?” At the suggestion being hungry or curious was her reason, Holly wanted to protest — she said she just woke up here, and wasn’t lying! – but then… Did she just say I could come back whenever? ”Uh… okay.” she mewed. But I can’t just... trespass? Isn't that like against the code?

Holly was not the best at remembering that kind of thing. But she did know enough — and had heard enough – to find it really, really weird. Territories were things you just didn’t mess with. Ever. And she — she said her Clanmates wanted to rip me apart! Wouldn’t that be reason enough to stay away? Holly wasn’t actually suicidal, even though she wasn’t afraid. There was a difference!

The grey molly — with those glowing, intense eyes of hers — then seemed to level Hollypaw with an eerily focused, studying look. (And did they seem brighter than before?) Holly found herself shifting under the gaze. Why is she looking at me like that?

But then the cheerful voice returned, somewhat lighter than before. And… the apprentice flushed, pleased by the compliments — but no, Holly had heard that right. The molly did want Holly to come back. She even sounded… sincere?

"It's okay that we're from different Clans; we all need help sometimes, right? We can hunt together, and split the prey."

Hollypaw felt torn. Because in that moment, the molly seemed like one of Skyclan’s warriors: warm and yet dignified, offering to spar and hunt with her. (See Wasp? she wanted to say. Even a Thunderclan warrior is impressed by me!) More over, the warrior seemed genuinely pleased with the idea – more than pleased, by how her eerie eyes shone.

But it was also crazy.

“Um, thank you. That’s very generous. But… you know that it’s crazy, right?” she replied slowly. That just wasn’t how Skyclan worked – or any Clan, for that matter! It felt so odd explaining this to an older warrior, but the molly obviously needed to know. She really appreciated the offer, though. “Your clanmates would kill you if they found out. Mine, too. Because we’d be – well, I don’t actually remember what part of the code says not to, but it does! I’m pretty sure.”

She danced a little ahead, paws thankfully stable – definitely getting the hang of this. But even if was crazy and so many cats would kill her for thinking about it, Hollypaw still felt… a little badly, so she slowed down to walk closer, and angled an ear to the warrior. “Thank you for… you know, saying that stuff though. About me being brave, and maybe being leader one day. I used to dream about that a lot as a kit, since Bloodstar and my family are all so amazing. Like, my mom's sister is deputy; my brother is medicine cat! And my aunt Beechfang – you probably know her, she’s got this huuuuuge scar, like half her face is ripped off – is training to kill bears. And I mean, real bears. She doesn't really want people to say, but she left being a medicine cat for it.

“My mom’s one of the most respected warriors in the Clan, too. And my older sister’s not far behind. So… you know,” Hollypaw mewed, taking a breath. It felt… surprisingly fragile, when it shouldn’t be, to say, “–sometimes I feel like I’ve got to be something special, too. To live up to it.” Then she cleared her throat, trying to straighten, and looked in front of her with determined eyes. “Which of course I will. But I'm glad you, um, see it too.”

Her ear twitched, a bit nervously. And she added, more softly, "So far, you'd be the first."

As she said it, Hollypaw stepped lightly onto a root, and felt a peculiar sense; like a small gust of wind, a rush of energy, whispering through her. It tickled and tingled, not quite cold, through her limbs and out her toes; echoing a pang of emotion. But as quickly as it came it cut, and Hollypaw felt herself shiver a bit. She shook herself. That was weird. But... oh, well. Where was she?

“Oh, um. I meant to ask, but – what’s your name?” Primrose would sigh, fondly, at her daughter’s ill manners (or perhaps forgetfulness). But she introduced herself! And the warrior didn’t seem to mind.

The older she-cat's steps were slow and patient, allowing herself to trail slightly behind. Hollypaw waffled forward, then returned to her side, and went back and forth as she prattled on. Shrikestep chuffed, keeping quiet as the little apprentice chattered away.

A snort towards the comment about her Clanmates wanting to kill her. Isn't that funny. The words sat at the tip of her tongue, but she kept quiet. Playing the hand of a grieving queen would surely win her favor with Hollypaw; a grieving queen with kit's blood on her paws, sentenced to death, probably less so. Shrikestep's whiskers twitched.

You're making this more difficult than I thought. Shrikestep had always liked easy; she wasn't lazy, per se, but she certainly preferred when things fell right into her paws. She'd never liked hunting much because of it.

Another glance in the apprentice's direction. Hollypaw, at least, would make interesting prey.

The SkyClanner went on, back to the subject of her family. The mention of her aunt– Beechfang, was it? –earned a loud purr of amusement. "Bears? I'd certainly like to see that." Hollypaw's voice quieted, and the warrior watched her intently. She let the moments between [color=crimson]"you'd be the first"[/crimson] and introductions hang, and let the quiet drag even a little further before she spoke again. "You have quite a few large shadows to live up to," Shrikestep commented softly, nodding in understanding. "In a few moons, I'm sure the whole forest will know your name." Snorting, she added: "Or at least half of it."

Here, the mist started to thin. She wondered, when would Hollypaw leave? Or rather, how? Would the little molly just disappear, zip right out of existence? Or would it be more like her wandering too far into the fog, out of Shrikestep's sight, and strutting back into consciousness?

She moved closer, allowing her fur to just barely brush Hollypaw's. It was a gentle gesture; friendly, maternal.

"My name is Shrikestep. And," she tipped her head this way and that, as if trying to rattle the words loose. "I won't tell anyone if you don't. How about this– why don't you come back here once you've earned your name? Say... a moon or two? I'll keep a particularly close eye on this border." She wished there was a border to patrol. At least the sense of familiarity and routine would be better than this dreadful perpetual walking. "Then you're just feeding your Clan, right? No pesky rules about apprentices needing a warrior to leave camo with them. And we won't chase you off if you keep an eye on the scent markers next time, really.

Shrikestep took a beat, nodding towards Hollypaw as they walked. "You got sure-footed fast. You learn quick." The comment was passing and nonchalant and overly sweet with praise. Just as quickly as she'd said it, she went right back to the actual subject at paw. "If I catch you here again, then we can at least talk, hm? There's nothing in the Code against having friends."

Her long gray tail swept over the mire, and she realized she hadn't stopped watching Hollypaw for... well, possibly since the little bird started talking. Shrikestep turned her attention forward, jaws parting to let out a breath. "What do you say to that? You won't be breaking any rules that way, and I can still show you a thing or two."

The warrior’s quiet agreement made her nod, just so. And there was something comforting to the simple surety of those words: that the world would acknowledge Hollypaw, one day. I said something like that my first Gathering, didn’t I? She flushed. And yet it was different, coming from someone else, and a warrior too. Not just Hollypaw’s imagination.

At the brush of the older molly’s fur, Hollypaw looked up with twitching whiskers. Shrikestep? Kinda sounds like Wasp’s name. While she wasn’t… entirely sure what a shrike was — was it some kind of bug? — it was a Clan name, and sounded respectable. Or maybe that’s the way the molly carried herself. Maybe the warrior wasn’t all that familiar with Clan borders, but… something in Hollypaw relaxed, at the confirmation Shrikestep was in fact a warrior.

Not that she could be a rogue, Hollypaw thought loyally. Rogues were filthy and matted and like, murderers. Basically scum! And Shrikestep’s fur seemed a bit stiff, but was still long and beautiful. She couldn’t be a rogue!

Without trying, Hollypaw couldn’t help but think of another molly she’d met (and perhaps when she wasn’t supposed to). Younger, fur whiter and silkier, and much… less intense, and with eyes that seemed perceptive and well-meaning — not gold and piercing. ’There’s nothing in the warrior code against having friends,’ huh?

It made something in her heart warm.

“No, there’s not,” she mewed, as if convincing herself, with a firm nod. And then she skipped over a root, and felt a flush of pleasure from the reminder of Shrikestep’s praise. The apprentice glanced at Shrikestep, a little shyly. “I can’t promise when, but… I wouldn’t mind seeing you again. Sometime, you know. You’re… pretty nice, for a mouse-muncher.”

She grinned, kit-like teasing in her eyes. And then bumped shoulders. “Sometimes, in Skyclan, we say all your nosing down for mice makes you forget to look up.” Her tail curled, and her chin raised. “Easy prey.”

Hollypaw said this with all the confidence of a young apprentice who’d never been in real battle. But she didn’t need to, of course, to believe that Skyclan was amazing and unstoppable. It was with this belief that she thought… maybe… it’d be okay. If they saw each other and spoke across the border, that wouldn’t be so bad, right? Right! There’s nothing bad about having friends...

They walked together in silence, then, for a while. It was… a large territory, to be sure. Or did she just walk a lot in the wrong direction, before Shrikestep found her? Hollypaw shook herself, and squinted again. This territory goes on for a while, doesn’t it? she thought, trying not to seem nervous.

The mist began, slowly, to thin. Hollypaw could see a bit further, but it seemed much the same: dark, chilled earth and roots and stones. And as reassuring as Shrikestep’s unusual company was, it wasn’t… well, like the feeling of knowing where she was. (Or being where strange, brutish warriors wouldn’t turn her into mincemeat.) You’d think I’d be used to it, she thought grumpily, considering how often she got lost in Skyclan. But usually she’d figure it out!

As she kept close to Shrikestep, she thought of her journey with Muddythorn — crossing a bit of Thunderclan. And a thought occurred to her… Huh. Where’s all the snow?

Her paws slowed, and she nearly tripped with a yelp. In Skyclan, their land was covered in snow: sometimes quite high and in drifts, other places gradually melted and melded with dirt and foliage. But here, it was bare. That… was really weird.

It… hadn’t been different, had it, when Hollypaw went to the Moonstone? But then her temples ached, and she felt suddenly very turned around. The earth beneath her paws was barren — if bitterly cold. Where did all the snow go…? “Shrikestep...? Where is all the snow? It is leafbare, isn’t it?”

She tried to make sense of it, wondering if she was mistaken. But her mind still felt so foggy, so jumbled. Maybe I did hit my head… And then she turned, because there had to be some reason — did Thunderclan shovel it all away somehow? Was there some massive, growling creature underground that melted it all at once, whereas everywhere else it didn’t? Could bears do that?

And yet when her eyes fixed on Shrikestep, she found herself feeling… suddenly heavy; sleepy. And as she reached for the idea of what it should look like — paved with clumps of slushy, freezing white… she felt oddly cradled in it; like remembering her nest, back home. “Sorry... ‘think I need to… to lie down a bit...”

It was inexplicable. Her paws gave out, but the ground felt soft and indistinct. The thought of her nest made her think of Wasp, snoozing beside her: of home. I do want to go home.

The last thing she saw, before slipping into darkness, was Shrikestep: gray and graceful, like a ghost, and haloed in little shards of ice.