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Fallen Leaves wasn't sure what he expected once he heard the agitated thumping of paws and the brutal clashing of stones onto the tunnel floors echoing through all their endless walls, breaking the everlasting silence that always held the place in a tight grip. He hoped for something , he hoped that maybe tonight it would be different, that as he took soundless steps through the cave he wouldn't come across what, deep down, he knew what he was about to see. He knew , he knew that familiar coldness of the air, the heaviness inside his chest, the smell of despair that flowed from the surface. And yet he still hoped he'd be wrong, that he'd be met with a surprise, like the fool he was.
His gaze landed on a black-furred figure laying motionless between the rocks, crushed underneath them, only the poor mangled limbs and head out. He softly laid a paw on their nose, and his throat almost twinged, hoping, praying he'd feel air, air being pulled back then exhaled, that he'd find any sign that this wasn't the end for them, but alas, his heart sank, and the darkness of the cave threatened to take him away.
The black cat rested lifeless against the stone.
Fallen Leaves closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as if it would remove the weight in his shoulders. It did not.
"Come," he gently said, his whisper soothing the dead's pain away, a breeze that swept over them. "It's over, now. It's time to go."
The cat shifted – their spirit ascending just above their body, and they opened their eyes. Green infinity stared back at Fallen Leaves, and he caught his breath. This cat was no Starclan or Dark Forest spirit: It was almost as if they were still alive, though their pelt shone translucent and phantasmagoric, and no warmth came from them. A ghost, with nowhere to truly go.
The cat spoke, her voice a song. "Where am I?" she asked.
Fallen Leaves blinked once. Then twice. He felt himself turn cold – for the first time in decades he didn't know what to do. What could he do? He was a guide, but there was nowhere to guide this spirit to.
The black molly took some steps aside, then gazed down to the corpse laying under the rocks. Her expression became a frown, her eyes widened and she lowered her head.
"I… I'm dead?" she whispered, and her voice carried pain, a pain that Fallen Leaves could tell wasn't just from the sudden news of one's own death, but something deeper, older.
"An accident," he whispered, but he didn't dare step closer. "It wasn't your fault."
No, Fallen Leaves could tell, he could sense it: every bit of her fur, each of her whiskers, each of her lashes, her entire being carried pain in its very essence, a wound deeper than any medic could ever heal, and Fallen Leaves suddenly found himself wanting to walk up to her and brush his pelt against hers, to press her close and tell her it was alright, to smooth her fur as if he could lick the pain away.
She looked back up at him and her voice, although friendly, carried misery. "So… Are you taking me to Starclan now?"
Fallen Leaves froze.
I wish. I truly wish. I look at you and all I see is a kind soul, so many had kind souls yet were sent to the starless dark, then why did the higher ones decide to condemn you to such a fate?
He found his own jaw clenched. No words would ever come out.
She noticed his doubt, his fear, and as her ears and tail dropped he saw something else shine terribly inside her eyes: guilt. Guilt that burned , burned inside her heart in a way he knew she could never find herself running from, no matter how much she tried.
"I see," was what she said, as if she understood, as she gazed away from him, from herself. "Show me the way, then."
Fallen Leaves frowned, tilted his head to the side. "I'm sorry, where?"
Her voice turned heavy, so heavy, sorrow, regret and guilt flooding through each of her words. "To the place where no stars shine. It's where I belong."
He exhaled, as if he was going to laugh, a sound that made her look back at him in surprise. He smiled, and felt his paws tremble as he took slow steps closer. "I'm not taking you there." he said, gentle once again. He always was. Always hoped he was.
She blinked, puzzled. "Then I am going to Starclan?"
He fell silent once more, his eyes darkening. Her eyes widened in horror and she caught her breath as if she was about to cry, and Fallen Leaves reached out with a paw, gently brushing it against her chest.
"W-Where am I going, then?" she asked, looking down at where his paw was. He thought she was going to recoil at his touch, but she made no sign of shoving him off, and he understood. It was already lonely to die in a tunnel's darkness, it would be even worse to be alone in what came after.
Fallen Leaves shook his head. "I believe you have not been given a destination. I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry."
A million things flashed in her eyes. A million questions that ended up left unasked. She sat down and gazed at her body once again, and, slowly, Fallen Leaves sat on the place beside her. Silence filled the cave for a moment.
"What's your name?" Fallen Leaves asked. It was a habit – he wanted to remember the names of each and every fallen warrior he guided to the afterlife, because they were more than just numbers to him, they were real things that, once, were alive. Now, however, it felt different. This question was no goodbye; this time, he felt like it was the beginning of something.
The black cat smiled, despite it all. A frail, yet soft smile, the ones cats give when they're haunted by grief and don't want to show it. Because they think being strong means hiding the pain.
"Hollyleaf," she said.
They spent the rest of that evening exploring the tunnels, and although Fallen Leaves didn't think there was anything worth looking at, Hollyleaf seemed impressed by it all.
“Don’t cats come here often?” She said at one point. “I mean, it connects to both Windclan and my clan…”
“I wouldn’t say ‘often’,” Fallen Leaves had replied, “But once or twice someone is down here. Sometimes it’s apprentices coming down to play, other times it’s a warrior needing some time alone. From other cats, or from the entire world.”
“Do you talk to them?”
He shook his head. “They can’t see me, I’m afraid. But sometimes I watch them.”
‘Sometimes’ was a bit of an understatement. Fallen Leaves had a long-lasting habit of watching over the living. One could say it was out of curiosity, or even boredom, but he’d disagree. Something about the sweet laughter of kittens as they play-fought one another, about the proud smiles of queens and fathers at the tiny little lights they brought into this world, about the spark that burned in the eyes of apprentices as each moon got them closer and closer to their dreams, about the determination in leaders’ faces as they climbed their clan’s rocks and watched over the nation they were given to command, that gave Fallen Leaves a sense of serenity and peace he couldn’t find anywhere else, not in these tunnels especially. He watched the clans with longing, this homesick feeling even though he wasn’t a part of them and never was.
Perhaps he simply missed being alive.
After a turn, Hollyleaf stopped, looking up briefly. “Can we go up there? On the surface?”
When her head turned back down and she gazed at him, Fallen Leaves felt his throat twinge again. Her eyes were shattered with this burning worry, and it took his mind back to the nervous paws just behind the entrance that had collapsed. Family, perhaps? Of course she’d want to check on whoever had witnessed her sudden death. Why wouldn’t she?
It was something Fallen Leaves wanted to do, too, when it happened to him.
“Of course,” he said with a smile. It was easy to smile around her.
He led her to one of the many entrances to this underground system, wanting to take her as farther away as possible from the location death took her, and they stepped out into the night. The stars shone, and for a moment Fallen Leaves was overtaken by this feeling, crippling uncomfortably under his skin, that somehow they would finally notice Hollyleaf missing and would claim her for them right then and there, and even more so he was surprised that he actually didn’t want them to do that, didn’t want her gone, taken away never for him to see.
She had been the first company he had in years.
He gazed anxiously at the sky but the stars simply blinked back, no sign of anyone manifesting, and he turned to face Hollyleaf despite the shivering of his fur.
“I suppose you want to be taken home?” He asked.
She smiled, although weakly, and nodded.
“I want to see my pa… My brothers.” She said, glancing away once she had to make the correction. Fallen Leaves couldn’t help but be hit by a tinge of curiosity. Why would someone hesitate to mention their parents? But he had seen things. He had seen how awful parents could be to their kits. He had seen Rainflower, in Riverclan, long ago, mistreating her disabled kit and acting as if he was a flea sticking to her fur rather than a living cat she was meant to love and care for. His chest ached when he imagined Hollyleaf living something like that, ached painfully at the thought of a little Hollykit flinching, tail between her legs, as an adult screamed at her for commiting the crime of being flawed, of being an individual, of being a kitten, of being a cat.
“They… They watched me run to the tunnels. Watched it collapse.” Hollyleaf continued, her voice cracking oh so slightly, and Fallen Leaves was at last dragged away from his thoughts and back to the real world. “They must be feeling… Oh, stars…”
He let his tail rest on her shoulder reassuringly. “I know.” He said.
She let out a sigh, and they both began to walk through the woods, towards Thunderclan’s camp. The forest was silent if not for crickets and the occasional calls of an owl or a raven into the night, and as they approached Hollyleaf’s home, Fallen Leaves could already feel the air becoming heavier around him; Grief had already struck the cats inside. He could hear pawsteps, and voices, all of them carrying the weight of death.
At the entrance, Fallen Leaves hesitated. His mind took him back to a time, way back, when he had allowed another spirit visit his family after death, how he had to drag the poor thing – a kitten, for Starclan’s sake – back into the land of the dead, because he was pleading, begging for his family to listen to him when they couldn’t. He watched the kit’s eyes shatter with heartbreak and since then, he had promised himself to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.
He had failed one single time, one last time, some years later.
He wouldn’t fail again, right?
But as Hollyleaf slowly stepped into camp and gazed around, not even a hint of hope in her eyes, Fallen Leaves realized he didn’t have to worry about that.
He accompanied her as she walked through the place, stopping beside her once she saw what she was seeking: A short silver tom Fallen Leaves swore he had seen before, standing beside a large golden tom with a mane as fluffy as a lion’s, just as familiar. He searched through his memory (that had been worsening over the years, as it turns out eternity doesn’t give you a gift of remembering things well like some believe it does) as deep as he could, and his mind wandered back to some years prior, in the tunnels, a little black she-cat and the two toms he now looked at, strolling through the darkness as he reluctantly guided them towards the scared mewling of lost kittens. It was the first time he had made an effort to be seen – and it worked, although only for one of the cats, the silver one with the piercing blue eyes.
Starclan was loudly unsatisfied with him afterwards. ‘ They were yours to claim’, they had told him. ‘ Why save them?’
Fallen Leaves couldn’t find the words to answer, and his silence was enough for them. He expected punishment, but nothing had changed.
Perhaps that was the punishment.
“Are they your brothers?” He asked Hollyleaf. Her gaze had settled on them, and her eyes carried the weight of dozens and dozens of emotions. Longing. Pity. Worry. Regret. Love. Fallen Leaves could smell the grief coming from the two, and oh, it was so, so strong, like their hearts had sank and had been thrown into an abyss. Their world had shattered around them and there was nothing he could do, no words of comfort to soothe their pain.
She nodded. “That one is Lionblaze. The other one is Jayfeather.” She explained, pointing at each individual. Jayfeather was the one who had seen him back then, Fallen Leaves realized, and as he sniffed the air and focused his gaze on the tom he could also see that there was this special sort of air coming from both him and his brother, an aura that shone around them. He narrowed his eyes, thinking, and then it hit him. What he saw was power, power emanating from them like light, like they carried the sun in their hearts.
This power didn’t glow in Hollyleaf, he realized when he looked back at her.
“They went after me after I ran and…” She murmured, and her voice cracked. Fallen Leaves touched her shoulder with his paw, and she relaxed, at last. There was no need for her to describe what led to her death. Not yet.
Not ever, if she never wanted to.
Fallen Leaves didn’t make an effort to listen to the brothers talk. He knew the words of grief very well by now, knew how they stung and pierced him like needles. It was harsh, being a guide of the dead. You start to feel like you’re partially responsible. Maybe that one time with the hawk he could have nudged the kit into his mother’s arms. Maybe that other time in the Moonstone he could have warned that medicine tom to stay in camp, because revenge had its claws unsheathed for him already and was on the lookout. Maybe that other time he could have urged that Windclan apprentice to hide and run away before that huge brown tabby set his eyes on him and decided to turn him, his body and his life, into a mere message to his nemesis. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
Maybe if he just had been more rebellious. More reckless. Less of a coward.
He blinked, shoving his thoughts away, instead focusing on the she-cat beside him. She was eyeing a little brown tabby on the other side of camp, a sweet molly with an even sweeter gaze, although now it was tainted with pain. As Fallen Leaves’ eyes moved to her, he was hit with the realization of how agonizing that pain was, for it was no ordinary pain – it was a mother’s grief. Hollyleaf’s eyes, on the counterpart, were, for the first time (Fallen Leaves could sense other cat’s emotions as clearly as one could see the sky in Windclan, it’s something he developed over the years), unreadable.
Fallen Leaves’ gaze swept over the black cat once again. He saw so much good in her – determination, dedication and loyalty burning at her very essence. He saw the years of training exhibited clearly in her muscles, the knowledge behind her eyes, the grace behind her words. She was a fascinating thing, the way her pelt was like a dark abyss; the way her gaze was the brightest green he’d ever seen; the way her fur was spiky like an actual holly’s leaf. But as he stared at her he could feel that same heaviness from before: Guilt. Shame. Regret.
What could she have possibly done to be granted what was worse than a fate in hell; having no fate at all?
Lionblaze and Jayfeather then got up, walked towards the den he and Hollyleaf were sitting in front of. They padded forward, passed right through her, as if she wasn’t there, they couldn’t see her, and Fallen Leaves saw the faintest, tiniest spark of hope fade away from her gaze. His throat twinged, burned. She frowned at her brothers in absolute defeat.
“Let’s go somewhere else, shall we?” He asked, his voice merely a half-purr. He knew there was not much he could do to comfort her, or any soul for that matter, but he still tried anyway. Because he was a fool.
She looked at him, her gaze warming up, at last. “Alright.”
Some time later (it was a bit hard for Fallen Leaves to keep track, time passed faster for the dead, but he’d guess it’s been some moons) they watched the sun rise and bathe the forest in gold, many times strolling mindlessly through the forest without saying a word, though often it reached points where Hollyleaf’s curiosity would be too strong and she’d break the silence.
“How long have you been doing this for?”
He thought about it. “Around two decades. Guides retire every hundred years, so I still have a long way to go.” Two decades was a bit more than the life expectancy of a cat, yet Fallen Leaves had guided more souls than an entire lifetime of meals for a kittypet.
Silence filled the air again, right when Fallen Leaves was starting to enjoy conversing, even if it was such a morbid topic. He blinked, opened his mouth, but before he could speak, he froze.
The air turned horrifically cold around him.
“Fallen Leaves?” Hollyleaf asked, tapping him with both her paws with urgence. “What’s wrong?”
“Something changed,” He whispered, and then it hit him like a wave right through his bones. “Someone is dead.”
Death called and so he followed, almost like tracking down a scent trail flowing through the air, and Hollyleaf ran beside him. The feeling of death was strong in Fallen Leaves’ mind, so much it was as if the forest became a blur and he didn’t even realize, as they stepped onto a river shore, that they had run very, very far away, extremely close to twoleg territory in fact. His pawsteps became slower, at last, and he took a deep breath. He had no need to do such a thing, but he always found it helped drive the density of the feeling away. Today, though, it wasn’t working as much, for the air was also filled with grief once more, freezing-cold and heavy as a boulder.
“Fallen Leaves?” Hollyleaf called, a sense of urgency flooding her voice, taking away the melody from it and oh, he missed that melody now that it was gone. She brushed against him and her touch finally grounded him back to reality, and as his vision became less foggy he realized he had been looking at his feet and breathing fast, too fast.
“Look,” Hollyleaf said, and he followed her gaze. In the grass, a cat was curved on top of another, who was laying motionless under their paws. Fallen Leaves felt pain as his eyes landed on the wounds on the dead cat’s pelt – it had been a painful death, painful until the very end. Fallen Leaves truly and whole-heartedly wished all deaths could be peaceful, like falling asleep in a cozy nest at home, because then they wouldn’t be so horrible to witness, but alas, he knew it simply couldn’t be the case.
He knew it from experience, after all.
Slowly he approached the fallen warrior and felt his throat twinge again. Their friends had tried to save them, he could tell by the cobweb and moss wrapped around their wounds in a frantic despair, with no technique whatsoever, and to no avail. He crouched, touched the body with his nose.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not in pain anymore. It’s over.” He whispered.
The cat’s image rippled, and their spirit got up right above their body, and they looked down at it, letting out a sigh as their tail dropped. Their fur glowed and through their pelt little dots blinked like stars, and their fate was unmistakable.
“What’s your name?” Fallen Leaves asked, and the cat looked at him with eyes that shone silver, like the moon.
“Rippletail,” he replied, gazing away to his friend who was still mourning him.
Fallen Leaves looked around and found Hollyleaf sitting next to the living cats, watching him. Her gaze carried pity, though it didn’t seem to be only for the cats surrounding her; rather, it was for them, for Rippletail, and… For him. He shivered a little.
“Let’s go, shall we?” Fallen Leaves asked the tom, who nodded. He looked up, and, instantly, some of the clouds parted, and he and Rippletail floated onto the sky. Hollyleaf didn’t follow.
The blue infinity then turned into darkness, and then, finally, an almost carbon-copy of the territories, except the night sky was a hundred different shades of beautiful purples, blues and pinks. The whole place was more colorful than normal, more bright, ethereal, and the cats shimmered like pearls.
He watched as Rippletail recognized someone in the crowd, who waited for him, and ran towards them. Fallen Leaves didn’t follow him, instead walking up to one of the cats he knew was an authority in that place – Yellowfang.
She turned to look at him and he realized he didn’t know how to phrase what he wanted to say, and he cleared his throat.
“Uh… Ma’am,” He began, casting awkward glances at the floor and the rather fluffy grass under his paws. “Some moons ago I… Found this spirit, this she-cat, died in the tunnels, and… She had nowhere to go. Not here, not down there, just… No destiny.”
The gray persian raised her eyebrows, although not very interested. “Do you speak of Hollyleaf?”
He nodded, relieved. “Yes! Are you sure she isn’t meant to be up here? She’s just… Stuck on earth. She’s been keeping me company.”
Yellowfang shook her head. “It was a deliberate decision, and not the first time we do something like this, although it must be the first time you’re the guide behind it. She’s not suited for Starclan, but not sinful enough for the darkness either.”
Fallen Leaves was at a loss for words. What? He wanted to say. How come? She is as deserving of this place as any other cat!
“If she’s bothering you,” Yellowfang continued. “Then there is a place ghosts can go to, a separate plane. You can take her there if you want, we’ll open the gate.”
He shook his head, then forced a smile.
“It’s all fine.”
Later that day, when Fallen Leaves returned to the living world, Hollyleaf walked up to him.
“What’s Starclan like?” She asked, pretending not to be too interested, though Fallen Leaves could clearly see the longing that burned in her eyes, that made him wince.
Part of him wanted to tell her what Yellowfang had said, a voice in his head screaming at him to ask her the question that would, most likely, end their friendship. If you could call it that.
What have you done?
What sins have you committed and what virtues do you possess that make you too neutral to both afterlives alike?
“It’s pretty,” he said instead.
She hummed in response and nothing else was said.
Several moons passed, and some cats went with them. Hearts stopped beating. Souls were reaped. Tears were shed.
Sometimes it was warriors dying bravely defending their clan from a predator. Other times a queen tragically losing a battle against a disease. Sometimes that same disease took a kit, too, in the span of a week. Sometimes it was an elder whose time was finally over. Other times an apprentice who was too excited to notice a monster driving in their direction.
And on and on, Fallen Leaves learned their names, guided them to their respective fates, all of them being Starclan so far. There was lots of evil in this world, but he found it comforting to know that it was only a few times where he had to take cats into the underworld below where stars never shone. But even then, it was a tiring task, and his chest felt heavier and heavier with each soul, with the grief that came afterwards.
But Hollyleaf was with him, now. She had been there for each death, for each loss, and even though she rarely spoke a word, her presence was enough to lift at least a little bit of that weight off his heart.
There was a time where a kit tragically drowned, and the mother was so distraught she let out several yowls of sorrow, and Fallen Leaves was haunted by the noise for several days. One night, he tried to sleep (he didn’t need to, but it made time go by faster), and as he inevitably began trembling with endless thoughts and the memory of that poor kit and that poor mother, he felt Hollyleaf cuddle next to him, wrap her tail around his, press them close. It felt nice. It made him feel better.
And then as morning would rise he woke up before she did, and he laid on his side, watching her sleep, watching the way her lashes twitched, wondering what she was dreaming about, feeling a strange urge to touch her eyelids with his nose, or to wrap a paw around her back in an embrace. Just to touch.
Then slowly she opened her eyes, and even though they’ve been wandering around together for moons now, the greenness never failed to make him freeze, put a pause to all his thoughts.
He wondered if she noticed it. She didn’t say anything, even when he spent a few moments staring at her eyes in awe, mouth half-open. Most of what she did was raise an eyebrow and, very subtly, let out a low purr.
He liked the noise.
One night he finally gathered up courage. His paws trembled.
“What did you do?” Fallen Leaves asked. There was no need to start the conversation properly, or elaborate what he meant. It was there, in each movement of her body, in each blink of her eyes, in each word she spoke: the guilt, and the pain it carried. An event that haunted her entire being and seemed to have caused her uncertain label of ‘ghost’.
Hollyleaf looked away, she always did when their conversations even hinted at said event. They were sitting on a river shore, and she was staring at the dark waters, reflecting the light of the full moon. She went silent for a moment that felt like eternity.
“I killed someone,” she said, merely a whisper, as if the words themselves were painful to pronounce.
He caught his breath. He had guessed it was something like that, even though it was hard to believe, it also wasn’t. It made perfect sense. The shame, the regret.
“Why?” he asked softly, not taking his eyes off her. I don’t hate you, he wanted to say. I trust you. Tell me your side of the story.
“He wanted to ruin my and my brothers’ lives. I had to - I was - It was to silence him,” she stuttered, uncharacteristically stumbling on her words, and as her voice began to be filled with sorrow, Fallen Leaves wrapped his tail around her. She seemed to calm down a little.
He patiently waited, he’d wait for her forever, and she continued. “He was my… He was my brother’s mentor, he didn’t treat him well and - he was also my mother’s ex-mate.” Fallen Leaves purred encouragingly. It was the first time Hollyleaf openly talked about her parents. “Or rather my adoptive mother… Anyways, he was angry she decided to get with another tom, my father, instead of him, and…” She was frowning and her eyes were sparkling with tears that threatened to come down. Fallen Leaves wanted to wipe them away, wanted to cuddle with her and tell her it was alright.
“Do you want to leave this conversation for later?” He asked instead, and she shook her head, taking a deep breath.
“It’s alright. A storm set our camp on fire,” she continued, and suddenly Fallen Leaves was hit by memories of watching the horrific orange light from afar. He shivered at the image of Hollyleaf, there, in the middle of the flames. Imagined the fear she felt. Wanted to go back in time and be there with her. “And he trapped us, threatening to let us die as revenge for my mother breaking his heart. She… She was terrified, and, as a last resort, she… She revealed her and dad weren’t our real parents.”
He let the information sink in, and his mind wandered back to a little brown she-cat, across camp from Hollyleaf’s two brothers, carrying a mother’s grief but far away so no one would notice it.
“I think she wanted him to know something no one else did so he’d feel like he won and… Wouldn’t kill us. It worked, I guess,” Hollyleaf shrugged then swallowed dry. “Then we learned that my dad was from Windclan and my mother was our medicine cat, and so… That tom, he threatened to reveal it to everyone at the next gathering, ruin our reputation and lives. I was terrified. I thought we’d be exiled for it. I…”
He nodded, pressing his tail around her a bit harder. She finally allowed the tears to come, and as they streamed down her face, Fallen Leaves boldly found himself wiping them away with his paw, and to his relief she didn’t flinch or move away.
“A different cat got blamed for it,” she sniffled. “The guilt was too much, I… I felt like the responsibility was now on my shoulders, you know? So… I revealed the secret myself, at that gathering. The murder became pointless, I guess, which is the worst part.” She brushed her cheek against his paw, leaning towards his touch, and he let her fall and rest her head against his shoulder. She sniffled again, and Fallen Leaves waited, still purring. It’s fine. I’m here. It’s alright.
“I… I threatened my real mother. I told her to end her own life, to poison herself for what she did. I was so angry, and so scared, and… The guilt just worsened. I ran away from camp, and…”
No words were needed.
You ran. You ran from them, from the world, and Starclan wanted you to be lost for eternity. But I found you. I found you. I found you.
“You lived a lie and you felt as if that tom’s actions would make your life come crashing down,” Fallen Leaves gentled. “It makes sense. I understand why you did that.”
“It’s not an excuse–”
“I’m not saying it is,” he nuzzled her, and she let out a little cry that made his chest ache. “I’m saying it makes sense. You’re not a monster, Hollyleaf. Trust me, I’ve met them myself.”
“But my entire existence is against the code, and I took a life…”
He took a deep breath. He thought about all the horrible cats he met, who did the same things and often worse, who, differently from her, carried no regret or sympathy. He thought of that apprentice used as a message. He thought of that kit forced to fight a fully grown warrior. He thought of so, so many cats.
“You may not be a saint,” Fallen Leaves said, “but you’re a cat. That’s just what you are. And you know what? That’s okay.”
She pressed herself closer to him, and he let her cry on his chest, gently stroking her head with his tongue.
It’s okay.
It’s okay to be flawed.
It’s what makes you beautiful, I think.
Things were a little bit different between them afterwards. Hollyleaf was a lot more open, more talkative, as if that horrible weight she had to carry for moons and moons was finally lifted off her shoulders. They’d chase each other in the forest for fun, pretend to hunt even though the prey couldn’t see them, and on and on she seemed happier, the sun shone brighter in her eyes, to Fallen Leaves’ delight.
Ashfur was the name of the cat Hollyleaf spoke about, she revealed one night, and Fallen Leaves searched his memory, nevertheless remembering a lone corpse bleeding in the water, tainting its depths with carmine.
He had smiled, then. ‘Well, then I have good news, your troublemaker has been condemned to the Dark Forest.’
He’d never, ever forget the way her expression lit up, bright as the sun itself. ‘Really?’ she gasped.
He had nodded, and she had pounced on him in happiness, and they rolled down a hill across the soft grass, laughing and purring. He remembered looking at her, the way her green eyes were beaming, bright and beautiful like a forest in early Greenleaf. It had been the happiest he’d ever seen her, and stars, did he love that view. He wished he could see it forever, that smile and that glee.
It was a late afternoon, the sun was setting, and after a long time they made their way into Thunderclan again, walking into the nursery to find a small dark ginger molly looking over two kits, who were mewling happily against her belly. Hollyleaf became tearful, and Fallen Leaves later learned that molly was her adoptive mother – Squirrelflight – and those were her two kits, her two actual kits with her mate. Their names were Sparkkit and Alderkit. Fallen Leaves promised to himself he’d remember them.
Then they left, stepping into the early evening, as they watched a patrol leave for one last hunt for the day. Fallen Leaves really appreciated the sense of duty and solidarity the clans held, seeing it was like a breath of fresh air, a pleasant contrast to the evils he had once witnessed, and the cruelty of life itself. To know they would always stand together and face off their enemies, no matter how hard things would get, was what made him love living so much, and was what made reaping souls the more painful.
But now, he was no longer alone, and he had been able to have experiences that were very familiar and close echoes of what it is to be living. Feeling the sun on your pelt, the water under your paws, the smell of nature and the song of birds, and the laughter of a companion. Long ago, when he thought of life, he thought of kits being born, of the smell of milk, of the adorable mewlings coming from the nursery. Now, when he thought of life, he thought of a pelt dark like the night, of a lyrical voice, of eyes green like emeralds.
More moons passed, many, many moons. He walked into Thunderclan camp, saw the horrible imagery of rocks crashing on the medicine den. He called for the spirit – and the brown she-cat that had once mourned Hollyleaf met his eyes, padded beside him as he took her up to the stars above. Hollyleaf had watched him leave, and then return, and he sat down beside her, fidgeting uneasily.
“I was wondering,” he began, and Hollyleaf looked at him curiously. “Don’t you want to go there? I mean, your mother is there now, and some other cats you know… Maybe we could convince them…”
She scoffed. “Why would I?”
He blinked, confused. “Don’t you miss them?”
A moment passed, she sighed, and looked at him. Her gaze was intense, piercing through his soul, but her voice carried fondness. “I do. I feel bad for mom. But… I don't want to go there, I want to stay here…”
He heard the words even if they were never actually spoken. They were there, in the air, in her gaze stuck on his.
I want to stay here with you.
His shock must’ve been stamped on his face because Hollyleaf chuckled, then gently pressed her cheek against his.
“I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you until you retire, and once you do… We’ll still be together, right?” She asked.
He smiled.
“We will.”
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee
– Edgar Allan Poe