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It isn’t quiet in No Stars. The leaves rustle and crunch between one’s paws fearfully and the wind rushes past one’s body as a piercing whistle of screams. He’s confused by why this dream is different. The dark forest had tricked him the first time. A dreamland similar to home that became slowly tainted with sludge, the smell of death and blood salt pungent in the air. They had no reason to trick him this time.
His dream self conscious scoffed and sat in place with an angry huff and closed his eyes. He’d wake up soon. One thing he had learned was not to interact or call out to dreams. He tried not to focus on the clear fresh air. The slightest bit of sunlight on his back, at the right angle, warm but not too hot. The way the grass tickled instead of harshly pricked at his paw pads. What ways of taunting had the darkness given him now?
He had gotten up from his false meditation with a hiss and snapped his head around in a desperate attempt for a lashing. He stopped in shock to squint at the light he wasn’t expecting. There’s no dust clogging the air. He pricked his ears to a sound, pawsteps, and turned around to meet this stalker.
He was not a fighter, at least for what Breezepelt could see in his squinted vision. A skinny black and white aged tom, healthy with calm poise. Breezepelt blinked a couple times before the tom could speak.
“Is this StarClan?”
The tom’s whiskers twitched in amusement, a small smile appearing on his face. “Yes,” He replied quietly while walking closer to where Breezepelt was standing. A feeling of disgust grew inside as the tom he didn’t know stood next to him. The sun was now too bright, too hot, too scrutinizing. He walked away from the tom with the flick of his tail, agitated by the sun, eyes pinched from the squinting. “Whatever, take me back.”
“You’re not going to ask who I am?” Breezepelt turned to look at the old tom who once again walked to sit right next to him. He awkwardly shuffled his paws and looked away in an attempt to adjust to the light.
“I’ve never been here before.” Breezepelt sighed and looked off into the horizon.
“I hope so, you’re not dead.”
Breezepelt sat in thought with the strange tom next to him. Ignoring his presence, the surroundings of the dream started coming to him. This was a quiet field with hills that made the wind bounce in multiple directions. The tall grass flickered in the wind, the individual blades moved in a left and right swing. He took a look at the tom, who was also looking out into the horizon with him.
“Tallstar?”
The tom turned to blink at him with another one of his small smiles. “Ah, so you do pay attention to the elder’s stories.” Breezepelt’s fur bristled. “Of course I do!” Breezepelt flinched at his own strong reaction. He put his focus back on Tallstar. “Our past is important.”
“Rightfully so.” Tallstar turned away from him and went back to looking at the horizon.
Breezepelt’s fur was starting to stand on end. He got up and stomped his way in front of the tom, blocking his view of the horizon. “What’s your problem huh? Why are YOU visiting me? What, my own family couldn’t? Didn’t want to see me huh?” Despite the yelling, Tallstar appeared to show nothing on his face, expression completely masked. “You mean Ashfoot?” Breezepelt held back a screech at him. “Yes! Of course!” Breezepelt started to pace across the ground, forcing the grass to poke and scratch at his paws. “What, I get a starclan dream or some prophecy bullshit and she's not here to see me?”
“She doesn't need to.” Breezepelt let out a pained screech at Tallstar, crouching into a pounce position baring his teeth. “What do you mean she doesn't have to-”
“She forgave you the moment she got here.” Breezepelt stopped in his tracks and stared at Tallstar in the eyes. There's nothing to indicate a lie. There's nothing to indicate a life behind those eyes, at least one that he knows. The light stops blinding. The sound of the wind is back. And the grass doesn't itch, just making a soft and sweet sound. Breezepelt looked away again, this time no longer having to squint to see the horizon. The clouds moved silently across the sky. Tallstar rejoined him, standing next to him this time. In a low breath, he quietly spoke into Breezepelt’s shoulder. “We are not that different actually.” Breezepelt flicked his tail again not wanting to face him. “There's no way I could be anything like you people.” “How much do you really know about me?” Breezepelt scoffed again as Tallstar continued to answer, his breath warm on Breezepelt’s side. “I've almost killed someone before.”
“But you didn't.”
“Have you?”
Breezepelt whipped his head back, staring at Tallstar with wide eyes. Tallstar blinked at him again.
“There are more cats here than you know, that have been pulled by the dark forest. Just because their power was not as strong as it is now, does not mean they weren't preying on cats before.” Breezepelt felt a lump of emotion settle in his throat.
“You know how history repeats young man, must you deny when it happens to you?”
The words settled in Breezepelt’s head. As his heart was beating out his chest, it began to calm in quiet breaths with the old windclan leader's body radiating warmth beside him. Tallstar dipped his head, giving a small nuzzle of comfort on Breezepelts neck.
“You need to remember your past isn’t you. Anger is a part of you, not completely who you are.” Breezepelt turned his head calmly to look at the tom this time. There was a smile on the old black and white tom's face as he lifted his head from the short nuzzle.
Tallstar gave him a friendly comforting lick on the head.
“You'll be ok kid. You'll be alright.” Tallstar was gone as soon as he came. And breezepelt, holding a lump in his throat noticed how the sky looked brighter, and how the sun wasn't blinding anymore.