The apprentice ducked into the medicine cat den. This seemed to be some form of trying to keep traditions alive - even if the Dark Forest wanted to force the idea that Starclan was dead. Lavenderpaw had been born a dreamer in both the literal and physical sense, running with a wild imagination. It was this reason alone that he'd clung tight to and even fancied thoughts of the ancestors. The idea they were far away, powerful beings, whose coats held the stars, the idea was a lovely one. However, he'd never seen them himself and doubted he ever would unless this somehow proved to be the one time that Starclan showed up.
Looking at Fawnsong, he nodded. Long ago he had grown used to the scarring across the medicine cat's face and now it was hardly a fleeting thought in his head. The herbs were not the easiest to scarf down but he managed before settling into the nest. With a soft exhale, the apprentice laid with his feathery tail wrapped over his nose. For a while, his flank rose and fell rather quickly but it grew into a slow slumber. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were twisted and strange... one moment filled with a beautiful light and next a foggy darkness. The details were vague and unimpressive, almost other worldly and most definitely filled with delusion.
After a while, he blinked awake to find his own tail before his eyes, lowering it to find Fawnsong. A slight frown crossed his maw and he sat up. His voice was soft when he spoke, not defeated, just thoughtful, "Nothing, Fawnsong. Do you think that Starclan is gone forever? Do you think they will ever walk my dreams?" Clinging to the idea was one of the few hopes that he had.
