A strange silence settles down upon the clearing, as the phantom across from Straightfur seems to flit in and out of focus. All sorts of dark wisps float around the phantom-clad creature as it continually flits forward.

"H-hello . . . ?" Straightfur prompts, tail brushing against the ground nervously.

Straightfur watches the phantom approach and he jumps backward as it approaches. Its black cloak waves in the wind, dancing and floating around the creature — supposedly a cat — inside. A dark silence surrounds it, and a dark paw pokes out from the dark and gloomy cloak.

He stares and his face twists into an irritated frown. "I really have no clue what you're trying to tell me! Pointing is not a language!"

The phantom, now clearly annoyed, sticks her head out of the hood with a sweep of her tail forming. "Fine, Straightfur, whatever. It's me, Polyholly. I was supposed to be silent and imposing, but I guess that's over now".

"Don't hurt me, please!" Straightfur frowns, sitting down as he looks up at Polyholly. He couldn't seem to forget the events that had just occurred, though he knew he should likely focus on Polyholly. Another lesson, he reminds himself.

Polyholly snickers darkly once more.

"Please . . . " Straightfur trails off, but continues. "So, you are the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, right?"

Polyholly doesn't answer, and instead simply stares down at Straightfur, who shivers and looks up at the ghost once more. Yet again there is no sound from the cat, and he blinks.

"Lesson, please? Hello? Polyholly?" Straightfur uncertainly stands up and pokes at Polyholly's cloak, to which the phantom whips backward, a snarl forming on her muzzle. "Oops. Uhh, I want my lesson, Polyholly! Lesson, please!"

Then, suddenly, he is chucked sideways, into a whirlwind of colors, and when he opens his eyes, he is standing in the camp. Everyone seems to just amble by, muttering words that are strange and twisted and difficult to hear.

Polyholly motions with her cloak at two cats chattering nearby and Straightfur pads up to them, pricking an ear to listen in. He recognizes both cats. One was well-known for his wealth, the other for his kindness and acceptance of others.

". . . mhm," the first comments.

"Yesterday, huh?" The second's head tips slightly.

"Mhmm," the first replies with a nod, "I wonder how much his funeral will be."

"Probably cheap. I doubt there's enough money even for an extra mouse," the second snickers.

"I wonder what his will says."

"Nothin', probably," comes the response, "Just 'Oh, hey, leave my stuff to some random richy-rich tom.'"

They both laugh briefly before turning in opposite directions, walking off.

Straightfur's brows knit together and he glances up toward Polyholly, who doesn't say or do anything. The phantom simply glides forward, pointing at two other cats. The first is a light-furred she-cat, and the second is a long-furred tabby tom.

"How're you?" The she-cat questions.

"Good, and you?" The tabby replies.

The she-cat's head tips before she answers. "Heard about the news?"

"Uh-huh," he responds, "Cold night to die during."

"Indeed," the she-cat murmurs, "Too cold for me, too cold for skating."

"You skate?"

"Why, yes, I do."

He nods and then he turns around and walks off. The she-cat stands there for a few moments longer before she, too, pads off, tail whisking in the chilly air. Straightfur glances over at Polyholly once more, but she doesn't do anything, only leads the tom further.

Now, he felt a chill travel down his spine, and not because of the cold. It was dingy and dark in this part of the territory — trees and shadows cloaked every corner, making it impossible to see what was around and nearby. A few rats skitter by in the gutters and Straightfur cringes, swallowing an 'ew'.

Eventually, Polyholly stops at the base of a den, and Straightfur slips in.

Inside were a few cats, one of which happening to be Pansand. He glances around at the gathered cats and then ushers Lesbianfin forward from the small crowd.

"What did you get?" Pansand asks, rifling through a few of the items brought. He soon finds a small, shiny object and jumps in excitement. "Woah. Nice find!"

"On his 'fresh-kill pile'," Lesbianfin chirps, "I know, I know." A light cheer echoes throughout the den as Lesbianfin watches Pansand dump a large amount of prey in front of the tabby.

Eventually, Pansand calls up another spotted she-cat, who lays a smaller pile out in front of Pansand.

"What do you have?" Pansand questions once more, sifting through the pile.

"He had some shells and shiny stuff nearby," replies the she-cat easily.

Pansand looks up, "Woah, you did it with him right there?"

"Yep!" She grins.

"Dedication," trills Lesbianfin from the back.

Pansand dumps a generous amount of prey in front of her. "He can't stop us from taking his stuff when he's not alive!"

Another cat steps forward and places a rather large bird down. Pansand's eyes widen as he quickly inspects the creature and he jumps back a bit, surprise clear within his features.

"Authentic, from his den!" He announces with a surprised but pleased look. The cat smiles slowly and nods, pushing it forward a bit more.

"What do you think it's worth?" The cat questions, tail flickering behind them.

"Hmm . . . Probably about something its size, or double," Pansand comments, ducking a bit as he produces a pleasantly sized creature. After looking closer, it is clear that the creature is a rather large thrush, with a few mice scattered alongside.

"Nice!" Lesbianfin trills from the back once more.

The cat in the front snickers, snatching her prey and dashing off. A few other cats approach, each commenting something about where they got their stuff from, happening to be the dead mystery-cat, and each time Pansand is mildly surprised from where it is from.

Pansand laughs happily, "Nice day, everyone. Good day!"

The room fades away and Straightfur looks around with concern. He wasn't sure what had just happened and he turns to Polyholly, face creasing.

"Uhh, can you help me out? What's going on?"

Nearby lay the shape of a cat, limp upon the ground. Straightfur turns to it and he shivers, backing upward. He had a feeling he knew who it was, but didn't want to say anything. What would happen if it was acknowledged?

"Just look at it," Aceface complains and Straightfur turns around, surprised.

"No, just . . . I don't want to!" Straightfur's voice raised, but he lowers it immediately and shuffles his paws. "I don't want to. Show me someone who actually cares about this cat's death, okay?"

The world fades away once more, only to be replaced with a familiar sight.

A nice family home, with Bi-sky and Queerdeer standing up near the front of the table. Though, neither looked happy, instead, the opposite, as they surveyed their family. Queerdeer's eyes were sad and dark, as were Bi-sky's.

Queerdeer shuffles to Bi-sky, "We owe him," he mutters.

"I know . . . where will it go?" Bi-sky worries.

"I don't know, but we'll pay it back when we can. When it's assigned to someone else, we'll have to pay it back." Queerdeer shifts on his paws, unsheathing his claws nervously.

"Just, don't worry about it. I'll have to scrap something together," Bi-sky assures him, letting a weak smile upon her calico features.

Queerdeer shakes his head, "I can help too. I . . . I think I know where to get a new place to work, since nobody will take me there, most likely."

Bi-sky sighs softly, shaking her head as if to disagree, but the calico she-cat does not say anything else. Instead, she simply sits down, looking around at the family. Her two kits look sad, as does she and her Queerdeer, but the kits look sad for a lesser number of reasons. Not that they didn't understand- they just looked sadder due to other reasons.

One seemed to overlap within the family, however.

Queerdeer looks around at the family, swallowing as he shifts on his paws. "Hi, Graykit, Akoikit," he murmurs, approaching both kits uncertainly as if something was off about the experience. Both kits hug their father back.

Bi-sky quietly leaves the room, sniffling as Queerdeer looks over at a separate spot in the room — consequently, where Demikit had been last. There was not a Demikit this time, at least, not in this room.

And not in any room, apparently.

"I miss Demikit," says Akoikit, to which Graykit nods silently.

"So do I," the other kit agrees softly.

Queerdeer's tail flicks as he studies both of his kits for a few moments and he shifts on his paws. "As do I," he comments quietly, "but Demikit was a good kit, while here. Kind, considerate . . . " He trails off, lifting a paw to his nose to rapidly rub at his features.

He sniffles a bit more and then he exits the room, crying softly. Akoikit looks, concerned, to Graykit, who shrugs uncertainly. Both kits leave the room and then it appeared to be empty. Everything within the household was empty. Demikit was gone.

Then, the world disappears once more, replaced with a gloomy and dark graveyard.

Tons and tons of little graves litter the area, each decorated with flowers or a simple bush that adorned a few. However, there was one toward the edge that Polyholly pointed at sharply with a cloaked paw. Straightfur pads toward it. The headstone was large, yet square-shaped, as if it had been carved from a literal stone because someone was too lazy to get a real headstone.

There were no flowers or bushes around this one, though. It was decoration-less. There were no grieving cats, no upset tabby she-cats, no sad spotted toms. It was completely void of all things that made a gravestone a gravestone and not just a random rock stuck into the ground for fun or for some random reason.

Well, except a name.

"Wait a minute," Straightfur says, backing up uncertainly, "That, uh, says . . . my name. That's a mistake, right? It's not me, is it?" The tom creeps forward, running a paw over the stone surface. It read Straightfur in jagged, strange lettering. Straightfur's brows knit together anxiously as he pokes at the stone, "Polyholly? That's gotta be a mistake, right?"

Polyholly says nothing.

Straightfur looks back to Polyholly, "H-hey, you, don't just stand there. What am I supposed to do? Help me, please, I don't really want to die, y'know, that would, uh, be nice!" He trails off, voice lifting drastically with fear toward the end of his words.

Polyholly, again, says nothing.

"Please help me, Polyholly! I don't want to die and I don't want not one cat to care!" He exclaims, tail whipping in the air with concern. He pokes Polyholly's cloak and the phantom hisses something incoherently. The cloak seems to be getting smaller.

The face of Polyholly withdraws into the cloak.

"Wait, no, don't go! Pollyholly, please, I just want to live, don't let me die and don't let everyone react this way! What do I do?! Make it go away! Make it go away!"

Polyholly's cloak then drops to the ground, and Straightfur blinks.

Instantly, he sits up within his nest.

Written by Lamb
Edited by Lilli