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"I can't be your mate," Squirrelflight said.
The earth beneath him turned to spikes, stabbing into his paws and rooting him to his spot. The pleasant breeze was now cold and unwelcoming, trying to tug his pelt off with each passing moment.
"You can't mean that," Ashfur said quietly. "You can't."
She shook her head.
"But I love you!" Ashfur cried.
It was the only thing he had known. It was the only thing he had left. After his mother's death to Tigerstar's dogs, he had gone through each day in a haze of anger and numbness that was simultaneously too much and nothing at all. She made him feel something, and he needed it desperately.
She turned away.
"I'm sorry," she said.
All he could do was whisper the same phrase over and over again as he curled himself, pressing his muzzle to the earth and squeezing his eyes shut. The blades of grass seared into his pelt, vines growing over his body.
"But I love you," he said. "But I love you."
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Ashfur usually didn't dream, but he had to be asleep. There was no place in the forest that was this dark. A thick, sloshing river wound just before his paws and into the distance.
"It's terrible here, isn't it?"
Ashfur jumped at the voice behind him. It belonged to a gray and white cat with thick, messy fur. The cat approached him, tail held high in greeting and body relaxed.
Ashfur didn't recognize his scent, nor did he recognize his appearance.
"Before you ask," the cat said. "This isn't StarClan. But no, you're not dead."
"Then where are we?" Ashfur said.
The cat sat beside him, holding a paw above the river.
"There are afterlives other than StarClan," the cat said. "This is one of them."
"So, what are you?"
The cat tipped his head. "I'm a warrior like you. I just happen to have a different set of beliefs, and they brought me here."
"Then why am I here?"
"I called you."
He... called him?
The cat mrrowed in amusement. "Yes, I can do that. How else do you think medicine cats receive prophecies from StarClan when they sleep? I saw that you were alone, and since I'm alone as well, I figured we could solve each others' plights."
He was alone, too. Well, Ashfur couldn't fault him for trying to get rid of the crushing feeling.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Thistleclaw," the cat said.
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Ashfur saw Thistleclaw in his dreams every night after that. There were no other cats in that dark forest and no prey; only two lonely warriors and the words exchanged between them. But when he woke, the world was lighter and his duties less tiring. Squirrelflight was still as radiant as the sun, but the hurt had faded. He was no longer walking on stones—just sand.
"You seem happy," Brambleclaw said.
Ashfur laughed through the sparrow in his jaws.
"I mean it," Brambleclaw said. "Whatever happened, I'm glad you're doing better."
Ashfur just ignored him, placing his catch on the pile. He scanned the camp, trying his best not to linger on a flash of dark ginger fur. But, as he crossed the camp, he paused.
There wasn't just ginger fur—there was brown fur, now.
Brambleclaw trotted up to Squirrelflight, tail tall and quivering. Her whiskers were towards him, and she leaned in. His fur brushed against hers, slowly and gently, ginger and brown mingling. Their scents drifted towards him, as mixed as their fur. When Brambleclaw pulled away, both had strands of the others' fur in their pelts. They made no efforts to brush them away.
Brambleclaw settled beside her, then leaned in, his tongue scraping the side of her face. Ashfur dug his claws into the earth, heart burning as he wished it was his tongue, almost able to taste the mouthful of fur. He turned to grooming his own if only to stop the phantom sensation.
And then his pelt crawled despite being clear of fleas. He shuddered as claws ran lightly down his back, then began to tear through skin.
He couldn't stand this.
Ashfur fled, following his first impulse. It lead him to his nest. He curled up inside it and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he was in the dark forest. Gently, a paw nudged him.
The crawling sensation still wasn't gone. Ashfur growled. He rose to his paws and turned away.
"Hey," Thistleclaw said.
Ashfur dug his claws into the dry earth.
"You're upset," Thistleclaw said, his voice right in Ashfur's ear. Hot breath flooded the side of his face, tainted by the stench of something rotting. He growled again.
A paw landed on his chest, lightly running down it. He reared up, slamming himself onto the source. Beneath him, Thistleclaw chuckled.
"It's alright," Thistleclaw said. "You're angry. You can hurt me if you want. I'm a ghost. And I won't leave you."
That was all he needed. Ashfur slashed the other tom's face, then sank his teeth into his foreleg. He kept the hold, blood coating his tongue. Skin and fur sank almost immediately, leaving Ashfur with the firmness of muscle and strength of bone beneath his teeth. He tightened his jaw until Thistleclaw let out a hiss, then released him.
The adrenaline faded and Ashfur was left to wonder what in the name of StarClan he had just done.
The wound on Thistleclaw's leg was deep, dark red and quickly staining the fur around it. The scratch on his cheek showed through despite the fur attempting to cover it.
"I'm sorry," Ashfur said.
Thistleclaw laughed at the sound, his voice nonchalant. "Why? You chose to do this."
What? Didn't—but he apologized—
"You said I could."
"Didn't mean you had to."
Thistleclaw was right. But they'd established a dangerous precedent that night. With each new scar, Ashfur's regrets only grew.
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It started with the light brush of fur against his. Ashfur jumped, searching for the source. When it happened again, he finally found it—Thistleclaw was here. He wasn't asleep, but Thistleclaw was here.
He exited the camp through the dirtplace tunnel, checking for other cats. When there were none, he took a breath.
"Thistleclaw?" He whispered. "How are you here?"
"I thought it would be a pleasant surprise," Thistleclaw purred. He wound around Ashfur, his paws not leaving any marks on the ground. He shouldn't have, but Ashfur found himself leaning into the touch.
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Ashfur huffed, paws scrabbling against the ground and claws bringing up pawfuls of mud. The paw against his face pressed harder. Thistleclaw wasn't just pinning him—the tom's entire body was perched on Ashfur's, rumbling with each purr-filled breath.
"You're terrible," Thistleclaw said. "Absolutely dreadful. Weak."
He leaned closer, his rotten breath stirring Ashfur's whiskers. His yellow teeth clamped down on them and yanked. Pain burned across Ashfur's muzzle.
"Stop—" Ashfur hissed.
"But I love you."
Ashfur went limp.
"W-what did you say?" He asked, voice quivering.
Thistleclaw released Ashfur and jumped. His eyes were wide as he backed away, claws still unsheathed.
"Wait!" Ashfur said.
Thistleclaw stopped.
"You... can you say it again?"
Thistleclaw sheathed his claws.
"I love you," he said softly.
Ashfur took a step closer to him, daring to take the risk despite what had just happened.
"I love you, too," he said.