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The sky flashed white as cats were moving to and fro, rain pelted down hard and made the atmosphere dreary and uncomfortable. Hauntedpaw watched his clanmates from the shelter of his den, he rolled his eyes at how frantic they seemed. Was organizing a simple gathering trip this hard? Amongst all of the chaos of the crashing thunder and chattering and moving about the leader stepped up onto the rock overlooking the clan, slipping slightly due to the weather. “Everyone! Stop scrambling around like rogues, we’re clan cats.” Everyone stood still, turning their heads towards the rock. “Please, we’re all going to the gathering this time. There is no need for all of this.” Hauntedpaw felt grim expressions sweep over the clan, there were no kits that needed looking after. Not anymore at least. The leader jumped down, her fur soaked and dipped in mud. Much to his surprise Hauntedpaw saw the she-cat walking directly towards him. He sat up, ears alert, and nerves a little shot. “You.” She said looking at him as if he was crowfood. “Why aren’t you joining us?”
The large tom averted his eyes, shame prickling at his pelt. “I don’t see why I should. I’ll hear about what happened from the other apprentices anyways.” He fiddled with his paws. The leader simply snorted in response and returned to trying to organize the disaster of a clan, Hauntedpaw hated speaking to her. He hated how she stared directly at his deepest insecurities. It always brought his mood down. He put his head to rest on his paws, the rainwater trickling in had made the ground muddy and unpleasant. His moss bedding was much too small, he couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it besides be upset. He let out a small huff of air through his nose and closed his eyes, hoping to get some rest. He listened as the cats filtered out, their voices trailing slowly away towards fourtrees. He lay in the silence of the rain and the storm of his thoughts for what seemed like moons, eventually they blended together and then faded away.
Hauntedpaw was surrounded by faces he didn’t recognize. Cats familiar and friendly but without names he could place. The terrain had much the same problem, it was otherworldly in a worldly way. As his eyes swept across the foreign landscape his hackles raised. She was here. The leader who tortured him in the waking world must have come to torment him in his dreams. The gray cat's face scrunched up and he took a step backward before realizing that she was different somehow. She looked softer, less jagged and cruel. She emanated this warmness that he could only describe as motherly. “Liontalon.” She spoke, her voice echoing and bouncing off of walls that weren’t there. “Liontalon why have you returned? After all you have done?” Her welcoming nature was replaced with fear and great sorrow. The familiar-unfamiliar cats turned, their gazes burning like hot iron into his pelt. He felt more cats than he could see watching over him. Liontalon’s fur was wild and betrayed him, showing terror. Memories came flooding back like strikes of lightning. Flashes of pleading cats, begging for mercy. Flashes of slit throats and sickeningly deep gashes. Flashes of blood and fur beneath his claws. The cats started slinking towards him with their teeth bared and tails lashing. He ran, ran as fast as he could. He wished he could protect himself from knowing who he truly was. Protect himself from remembering the disgusting actions he took as rebellion for the paw he’d been dealt.
As he desperately tried to escape the mob of vengeful warriors his paws began to sear with pain. He continued on, vision blurred with tears and adrenaline. His world shifted as his legs got caught on spiky tendrils, sending his face directly into the grass. Instead of grass however he found thorns. Lots and lots of horrible barbed thorns. Liontalon writhed in agony desperately trying to free himself, his fur tangled so badly that he could barely move. He felt the ground beneath him shake as an army of cats got closer and closer until finally…
Hauntedpaw woke with a start, eyes wide and chest heaving. The images of the corpses floated back into his mind, those cats that Liontalon murdered. He sat up, trying to find his mental footing. It felt like he’d had this dream before, many times before in fact. He couldn’t remember waking frightened and confused though, he couldn’t remember when these dreams had happened either. Why was Hazestar there? Why was she so different? He had many more questions than answers and his head felt like it was spinning. He sat in his mud covered bed confused and distraught. Waiting for some explanation to come to him. It never did though, he felt so lost. The sound of a distant crowd told him that his clanmates were returning. Hauntedpaw backed deeper into his den out of instinct. What was wrong with him?