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Warmth.
That was the first thing that Frostpaw noticed as she stirred awake. She’d been bleary-eyed and too exhausted to respond to her clanmates that kept walking in and out of the medicine den.
Her ears lay flat to her head, her breathing slow but steady, and yet even when she had them perked up she could hardly make out what any of them were saying.
The scent of strong herbs and dried blood stung her nose, injured warriors likely waiting for Mothwing to tend to their wounds. She felt a pang of guilt for not being able to help.
But she was distinctly aware of the lack of another body close to her own makeshift nest, or even the soft pad of paws on the ground or Mothwing’s sharp but caring mew. That was odd.
Where was she?
She willed her body to move, ignoring the sharp pain that came with the effort. It took a second for her to stumble up onto her paws, her eyes gradually adjusting to the bright light.
All around her was a thick mist with pools of sunlight struggling to break through. There was no obvious way forward, all she could see were long stretches of greenland going on for miles this way and that.
Maybe she wasn’t meant to be going anywhere, maybe all of this was just another vision. Something that would show her that RiverClan was going to be okay now.
Someone else would be able to choose a leader after Splashtail was gone, a proper leader accepted by StarClan, and everyone could rebuild the neglected camps, fill the fresh-kill pile, and go back to normal.
...Right?
She shook away the thought that that wasn’t true. That there wasn’t a ‘normal’ to return to even with her there guiding them.
Frostpaw started down a path. She wasn’t quite sure who, or rather what she was looking for exactly. Usually someone would have appeared to her by now, whether that was Riverstar or another one of her ancestors. She already missed the comfort of her clan.
The downward sloped willow trees and grassy wetland would always welcome her back the moment she stepped back across the border, padding beside her mother after a Gathering or holding a folded leaf full of herbs in her jaws.
And yet RiverClan hadn’t felt like home for a while, not since she’d nearly been killed trying to get to Whistlepaw. Maybe it had been pure determination that allowed her to survive, or the fact that her attacker really thought she was that weak. A smarter cat would have noticed their job wasn’t done.
Whatever the reason, she was lucky she was still here with the scars to show for it. She had her friends and, more annoyingly, a Twoleg to thank for that. She couldn’t be upset at Smoky for worrying about her, though, and it hadn’t hurt her.
After what felt like moons, the mist began to gradually lift, and she could make out what looked like a small waterfall.
It cascaded down into a hollow of stones by the lake, the surface shimmering the same way that the moonpool always did under a starry night. Different kinds of plants and flowers surrounded it, too, but there were mostly dandelions and goldenrods.
There was another cat in the distance with its back turned to her, glancing into the lake as if it was peering through it. Its pelt was jet black with flame markings and its tail curled up at its side. She squinted before recognizing the larger, broad-shouldered tom she’d grown to become friends with.
"Nightheart, is that you?” Frostpaw started, hesitantly closing the small gap between them by jumping from one smooth rock to the next, landing on solid ground behind him. He startled, turning towards her with a look of surprise on his face. “What’s going on? Where are we?”
He brightened, clearly relieved to see that he wasn’t alone. But it didn’t last for very long, his attention shifting. “I don’t know. I remember fighting Gorseclaw, and then…” He trailed off, trembling as if he still felt the pain of claws sinking into his skin. Frostpaw grimaced.
"Then what does this mean for RiverClan?” She half-whispered, her voice full of concern. There was a nagging feeling in her chest that screamed that something was wrong. Her wounds couldn’t have been so bad that she’d passed out.
And even if that were the case, it didn’t explain why he was here too. She couldn’t imagine anyone managing to convince her clanmates to kill another for no good reason.
"Look," Nightheart simply said instead, gesturing back to the lake. The second patrol had finally caught up with Splashtail.
Floatkit had been dropped from his jaws, already well on her way back to camp, and the faux-leader was outnumbered, with the ShadowClan leader unsheathing his claws and growling low in his throat.
The others flanked Tigerstar, nothing but hurt and determination in their eyes. Frostpaw moved closer, stifling a gasp at the sight of a small, gray cat curled up in its own pool of blood, stiff and unmoving.
Splashtail's pelt was fluffed out in a mixture of fear and anger. The sound of Frostpaw’s heart thrumming in her ears drowned out anything they might be saying to each other.
She felt a shiver run up her spine, willing the cat to show a sign of life. Anything that wouldn’t confirm her worst fear. The longer she stared, though, the more certain she became that there wouldn’t be one.
"We need to go," the she-cat insisted, tail whisking impatiently. “We’re sitting here talking when they might need us.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried to." He gently pressed closer to her, explaining how he’d woken up near here, too, and that he couldn’t even smell his own scent as he walked around, let alone anyone else’s.
That made no sense to her if he was in the middle of RiverClan right before this. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place isn’t anything like either of our territories,” he added.
Frostpaw’s nose twitched. “Right.” She said, “This… this is different. None of them are dead, either.”
"Sunbeam!" Nightheart exclaimed. They could both see her in the RiverClan clearing, pacing back and forth, unable to sit still while things were still raging on outside. No one knew if any of this had worked, or if more of their allies were out there, meeting StarClan way earlier than they ever should've.
And then she realized something. In the quiet of the earth and the peaceful hills around them.
This place might’ve been unlike anything she’d seen before, but it carried that same distinct feeling that came with the weightlessness of being in StarClan’s hunting grounds.
She blinked.
And suddenly everything made sense. They dared to meet each other’s eyes, shock and confusion eventually turning into a reluctant understanding.
She didn’t need to say anything more for the reality of her words to sink in. By now there was no more mist or even clouds left, the sky was completely clear. It betrayed the dark pit forming in Frostpaw’s stomach, sitting heavy like a rock.
Was this really it? The end to all her problems? It didn't feel right, no matter how tired she was of carrying the weight of the clan on her shoulders.
Nightheart seemed sad at that, as if she said it out loud, and Frostpaw could swear she saw the glitter of the making of stars in his paws. He wouldn’t be able to reach his mate here, or anyone else, for that matter.
Frostpaw half-expected to see her mother waiting for her when she looked up, but she knew that wasn’t possible anymore. For the knowledge she did have of StarClan, most of it coming from Riverstar, she knew that they weren’t cruel, but plotting the murder of your own deputy wasn't honorable.
Nightheart was the one to break the silence once the image of their clanmates faded, the last thing she saw being Splashtail chased out of the territory and far beyond any border. That eased a bit of her anxiety.
“Do you… wanna go hunting? There’s a river down the way,” he said. “You could finally teach me how to fish.”
She wondered how he could be so calm about this. Losing Curlfeather and her previous leader was almost enough to make her give up, even after she knew the truth. He had to be longing to share tongues with everyone he loved.
Not much time had passed, she mused, since he’d been telling her stories about Sunbeam every day at the park.
He even talked highly about how fast Wafflepaw was learning afterward, proud to have been chosen as a mentor and that he’d convinced at least one of the park cats how admirable being a part of ThunderClan was.
But it was just that: there was nothing left for them to do. They couldn’t change what happened, nor could they change their fates. Her tether to the living world was fading bit by bit as she followed him over a sideways jut of stones, taking in a deep breath of fresh air.
“Okay,” she finally said. And she found that, for once in her life, the quiet rush of peace flowing through her wasn’t a temporary feeling.