Release Me, Sandman

Leaf-fall.

…

…

Half-lidded eyes. Dry throat. Muffled sounds. She’d woken confused. It was her usual state of being, true, but this confusion was far deeper than normal. In this moment she had forgotten that sleep was supposed to end. That dreams, like all things, died and lay forgotten. Her mind edged on consciousness, yet her paws felt as if they were made of stone. She could not will the energy to get up. What strange work was this? The daylight streaming down onto her bleary gaze made her shut her eyes tight once more, sluggishly shifting away with a whine of pain at the movement of her aching head.

She could smell Dovesight and Sandypaw of course, this being their den and all, and Wug too. Though she was never awake to see her visit, her daughter’s scent lingered on her nest. The only hint that Owlshriek and Sleepycloud had ever been there however were the tufts of fur stuck in cobwebs and those false scents her mind briefly tricked her into detecting. Those two, who had come down with the same illness she felt now, they might as well be nothing more than phantoms. They weren’t in the medicine den anymore. It crossed her mind that perhaps they were gone. She could feel her fever rise again about her neck, falling swiftly asleep once more. Her brain was no better than a wad of rabbit’s down. And burned just as quickly.

…

…

The next time she awoke, it was the moon that shone upon her face. Perhaps it had been the sun that had sapped her energy away, for now she could rise to sit upright, though her head swam and her paws wavered. There were no sounds besides the soft breaths of the sleeping medicine cats and the shy crickets ever mindful of their duty to song. She took a deep breath – it rattling in her throat, to which she coughed out of reflex, cringing at the pain of doing so. She moved to stand up only for her paw to hit something small and soft. The sudden touch made her jolt, causing another wave of head pain. It was only some freshkill. A vole. Who brought it? Her nose gingerly touched the cold creature’s fur, detecting no cat scent at all. Weird. She ate it anyway.

Moving in a way that felt more like peeling herself off the ground, unsteady legs carried her out into camp proper. Carefully, wearily, she gazed upwards to the sky. The moon hung as a bright orange claw-scratch. Perhaps it was her discombobulated brain, but she couldn’t find any stars at all. A bit disconcerting, but the air felt quite nice. She sat with her eyes half-open, feeling the cool leaffall breeze tickle her fur. Ah, she’d left her pelt behind. So long as no one saw her, she’d be fine.

She spent many nights like this, though who knew how many. She couldn’t ever tell how long she slept. It was a bit odd though, not once could she remember walking back into the den after a night of moon bathing.

…

…

Leafbare.

…

…

Another moment of clarity came with the sounds of screeching and heavy vibrations along the ground. Pain gripped her skull like an eagle’s talons. She didn’t want to open her eyes, but the frantic shadows across her eyelids bid her to, revealing menacing creatures grabbing cats left and right. Where was she? Brick remained motionless. Dull green eyes scraped in their sockets, instinctually looking for any sort of anchor, and found something baffling. A massive rock, few ground plants, and most striking of all (to her): the silhouettes of serval massive trees. Was she in Fourtrees? Why would everything be this chaotic? Ah, but most importantly, why would she be here without her pelt? So that’s what this was about. She let out a crackling groan as she flipped over, “Ah. A nightmare,”, facing away from everything to let it pass without her having to see it.

It was just beginning to fade when she felt something large and blunt grasp at her scruff, dragging her out from whatever it was she’d been laying under. The air felt chilly against her now-exposed belly, yet she could hardly keep her eyes open enough to see what had her in its grip. She drifted away again.

…

…

This time, she really felt awake. Awake, but no less confused as to what was happening. The air smelled bitter like a mass of rancid berries overlaid with fear. A lot of it. She’d remained motionless in this cold, stone box, half-wrapped in a vibrantly colored, square pelt after waking quite naturally. Near the one side made of shiny, grey vines sat a bowl of water(?) and something that smelled almost, almost like it was edible. Why was it here? Was that all there was to eat? Her stomach didn’t seem to care what her brain thought and gave a painfully loud growl. She peered through the gaps in the vines and saw many other cats in the same situation. “What in Ivystar’s name?” The sound of her hoarse voice was swallowed by the desperate yowls of several other cats, including needy cries from more than one kitten.

She was too shocked to feel dread or anxiety yet. Even more confused than before, the tortoiseshell backed away, gaze settling once again on the odd sustenance provided. It looked like a pile of dried mud clumps. ‘Or dingleberries.’ What even was it? Regardless, her hungry belly didn’t care, this was all that was guaranteed. She decided to simply eat it with her eyes closed.

Wait. Was she naked again? A cursory look told her she was not, in fact, wearing her pelt. 'Fox dung and weasel scat..!'