"I dare you to keep up!" Scorchclaw yowls into the wind, his short fur rippling furiously as the breeze passes over it. His ears are flat behind him as he lowers his head into the run and the ruby sunset dyes his fur a shocking red. By his side, Sharpfoot bounds along, eager to please him. Her long, dark fur bounces up and down as she tries to keep his stride, making a show of every swift step.

The smell of pine on my tongue is replaced by the warm aroma of sun kissed fall leaves as I follow behind them, breathing heavily. Every breath is shorter and finds me further behind, the trees tripping me up and scattering my steps as I flail gracefully through the forest. Even though I don't share half their enthusiasm for pointless racing, I'm definitely keen on reaching camp around the same time as them.

The forest is not a hospitable place after dark.

"All of you are so immature." Emberstreak is almost invisible, disappearing into the woods behind us. The fourth member of our border patrol takes her sweet time strolling along, leaves sticking to her long fur and cluttering her pelt. Frustrated, I give up my chase and slow down to almost a walk, and in due time Emberstreak catches up.

"Sometimes I wonder how Scorchclaw is older than you or your littermate," scolds Emberstreak. "Both of you might be a bit odd, but you at least have something inside your brain besides hairballs."

"That's a bit harsh." I say absentmindedly, staring up at the canopy instead of straight at her. The sun is definitely setting now. The sky has turned a brilliant violet and the trees reflect the light of the dying sun. Since we've passed the hill behind which it sets, everything is darkening quickly.

"By the starry pelts of our ancestors, you'd think-"

A wail of distress rips through the air like a claw to my heart. Birds fly away above us and Scorchclaw and Sharpfoot stop dead in their tracks.

"What's that?" I ask, every fur on my back standing straight up.

"It can't be time already." Emberstreak says.

"It's Hazelwhisker!" cries Scorchclaw, "She's kitting right now!" He breaks into a dead sprint, dodging familiar trees as we near the camp.

"She's what?!" I call, suddenly running along in an attempt not to be left behind.

"You didn't know Hazelwhisker was due for kits soon?" asks Sharpfoot, her mew condescending.

"I didn't know they were mates!" I spit back, barely able to speak between rapid inhales.
"Rushcall, you need to get your head out of the clouds or one of these days you're going to fall straight out of the sky." she teases, hardly feeling the stress of the run at all as we leap through the bushes surrounding camp and come out on the other side.

Another cry sends Scorchclaw ramming into the other cats, yowling, "Let me through!" at the top of his lungs. I collapse into camp, exhausted, my chest heaving up and down like they're the last breaths I'll ever take.

Sharpfoot pushes me over before going on her way to the warriors den. Sometimes I wonder how she can be so pointlessly cruel, usually to the point of being petty. If there's ever been a shred of anything but bitterness in her heart, she hasn't shown it to me, that's for certain.

Then again...

I get to my paws, still breathing heavily as I walk towards the medicine den. I edge my way past several cats and poke my head out near the front of the crowd. Sharpfoot emerges by my side, and I can see Scorchclaw's ginger pelt next to his mate's as she bites down on a stick, which is beginning to break beneath her firm grip. With another anguished cry, another kit slides out onto the ground. Hazelwhisker bites the birth sac and begins licking the kitten furiously, though it looks more like a gray rat than a cat at this point. Its fur is short and moist, but Hazelwhisker lovingly places it by its sibling and it immediately begins to suckle.

"A she-cat and a tom. They're beautiful." purrs Tinyblossom. "You've done very well."

Hazelwhisker nods weakly, her attention still focused at the small kits by her side.

"What will you call them?" Scorchclaw asks.

"What will we call them," she corrects, "I like Purekit for the she-cat."

"That leaves me to name the tom. He has your fur," he adds. "He's beautiful. They both are. They're like a light in our new life..."
"Flashkit!" Hazelwhisker says.

"Perfect." Scorchclaw agreeds. "Purekit and Flashkit."

Tinyblossom looks up at us and hisses, "Alright, that's enough! Go to sleep, share tongues, I don't care, but you need to leave the new family and I alone."

She looks at me shrewdly. "I'll deal with you later, Rushcall. I can see those scars on your tail." As the others leave, I get to my own paws and look around. A certain face is notably missing from the crowd. Easing my way out of the medicine den, I see him standing by the waterfall, his fur blowing gently in the breeze off the waterfall.

The starlight is bitterly cold on my pelt and the spray off the water chills me internally as I sit down beside him, cool rock against my fur. "You weren't there for the kitting." I tell him.

"Hazelwhisker needs her space. Do you need something?"

"I've been trying to talk to you for a while now." I tell him anxiously. "There's some important things I'd like to say."

"Have you ever considered how much of our life has already passed?" Novablaze asks me, though he doesn't even look my way. "Some of the most tender parts of our life have gone by like that and we hardly looked up long enough to notice."

"I suppose so." I say quietly.

"Makes you put things into perspective." he says bluntly.

"Y-yes, but that doesn't have anything to do with what I-"

He cuts me off. "Rushcall, have you ever wanted to have kits?"

I close my mouth and just nod curtly.

"I was curious. You know, sometimes, when I look at you... it almost feels like I'm home. It reminds me of something, but I'm never quite sure what. I just know... something deep in my soul is calling out for you."

"That's why I wanted to talk to you." I say. "This may sound strange, but I feel the same way. Do you think it's fate?"

"I have no idea what it is. It's confusing and slightly terrifying." He turns to me for the first time in the conversation. "I have the same dream almost every night as well, ever since we went into the tunnels. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before, but I didn't want to consult the medicine cat about it. Too personal."

"You can tell me."

"If we're in this together, I don't have much of a choice." he mews halfheartedly. "It starts and ends with you, although I can never make out your face. Your fur seems to change in color as I speak to you, a spectrum of grays, silvers, browns, and golds. Despite that, I can always tell it's you because your eyes are golden. You whisper something into my ears and then bolt down the path, and I run to follow. Almost immediately, I lose sight of you and begin to look around. The entire area smells like rot and decay, and though it's almost impossible to make anything else, the best I can describe it as is a forest where the trees are made of shadow. There are voices echoing all around me, like those in the tunnel.

They call from all angles:

'Are you tired, brother?'

'Lay down and stay awhile.'

'Blood this old deserves to rest.'

I ignore them and keep running, only to find that I'm a few seconds too late and I watch as a fox the color of pitch bites your throat open and disappears into the darkness.

Your blood falls dark scarlet on my paws and you call for me, but you never get my name right. You've called me a million things, but the only one I can remember... 'Pyrewing'. The forest goes dark around you and then I wake up."

He's no storyteller, that's for certain, but my fur is still sticking straight up as if I've been in the tunnels for an extended period of time.

"Pyrewing. He was an ancient cat." I tell him. "Ashleap's... mate."

"One of your spirits?" he inquires.

I nod again, my fur still spiking up in sheer terror.

"That would make us destined to be mates, wouldn't it?"

"We choose our own destiny," I say, if only for my own benefit.

"True. Whatever we had was the dream of two foolhardy kits long, long ago. No ancient cats are going to change the path our paws have taken now."

"Whatever it was or wasn't," I tell him. "I think we both... need some time." I get to my paws, gazing deep into his deep, dark eyes. They look almost like Pyrewing's, if Pyrewing's eyes were cloaked in shadow and never let shine again. The hauntingly familiar eyes glare back into mine with the intensity of the Highfall itself.

"You said that last time." he says as his haunches slide back and he gets to his own paws, hardly breaking eye contact for a second. "Before we go, may I ask you one question?"

"Anything." I breathe, barely hesitating.

"Are you looking at me, or are you looking past me?" he asks.

"What?" I ask, taken aback.

"You knew my past lives. I've worked out that much." he lowers his head, edging in a little closer so we're almost touching.

"I do." I affirm. "Whatever you're trying to accuse me of, I can assure you it's completely unfounded."

"Whoever he- they are," Pyrewing- no! Novablaze hisses, "I'm not them."

With that, he gets up and walks away, leaving me alone by the waterfall in the moonlight.

((OH BOY IT'S BACK!
If you really want a scope of how bad my writer's block was, I actually worked on this chapter every day without an update. I could only write about 200 words a day because I was just so uninspired. I am very, very sorry for the delay and any subsequent ones that may come from... the dreaded midterm season. Many of my teachers have cancelled their tests but I'm still going to be playing catch up because of recent snow days. Please bear with me...))