The air was thin and cold as Slatepaw blinked open his eyes.

Something was different here; he could tell from the smell in his nose that wasn't quite there. He knew, instinctively, that there was no smell, that the trees he saw around him were illusions, and that the grass beneath his feet wasn't truly full of life.

He was dreaming.

But Slatepaw didn't dream of anything that ever resembled reality. He dreamed dreams that were fluid, where he was a lion of the Clans of old, and where he caught enemies and snakes beneath his paws or dreamed of falling off a cliff that never ended. He dreamed of trees higher than the clouds, of flowers that laughed and sang, and of rivers that flowed up instead of down.

He did not dream of places that looked like home.

It was then that he knew that this was not his dream. Someone had called him here, and if that was true, then he knew he must be walking with cats that were no longer living.

His eyes widened as he took in the horizon that he'd only ever heard about in nursery tales. Rolling hills stretched out in front of him, covered in trees of every kind. Bracken and ferns waved in the air caught by the quick wind.

Where he stood, the grass bent beneath his feet. It wasn't as soft as he thought it would be, and a thistle scraped his paw-pad with a slight pain. But that wasn't enough to curb his excitement-- he was in StarClan, somewhere most cats would never see.

His mouth drank in the scent of StarClan greedily, feeling the taste of freshness and beauty wash over his tongue, though still with the bit of fakeness that let him know that it was a dream.

"Slatepaw."

The grey apprentice quickly turned around to find the source of the voice, his fur bristling in shock and fear. A thick-furred reddish she-cat stood before him, his breath caught in his throat.

"Burnetflame!" He ran towards his mentor, eyes lighting up in joy and excitement. "I've missed you!"

He stretched out his paw to touched her, as if to check that she truly stood before him, but she quickly jerked away. He sat there on his haunches, confused, as she hissed.

"I'm sorry," he mewed, though it sounded more like a question than he'd intended. "I didn't-- I just miss you so much, Burnetflame, Peonystrike is nowhere near the same--"

Burnetflame gave him the look she always did, the look that would freeze his jokes in his throat and tell him that this was real, important, and not something to jest about. "On your feet, Slatepaw." The she-cat looked around anxiously. "We don't have much time."

Slatepaw blinked, pressing his ears against his head and obediently standing. "Time for what?"

Burnetflame's gaze glared into his own, as if she was seeing past his wiry fur and into his soul. She leaned closer to the apprentice, enough for him to feel her breath on his whiskers, but she still didn't touch him. "You must be careful, you must watch out for him."

The tom tilted his head, "Wh-what do you mean? Who?"

Burnetflame leaned back slightly, and Slatepaw's breath calmed for a moment before she mewed the name. "Spruceblaze."

Slatepaw's eyes widened, more curious than surprised. "The deputy?"

Burnetflame hissed. "Of course it's him. I warned you about him, didn't I?"

Slatepaw looked at her blankly.

His former mentor blinked, then her face washed over with understanding. "Ah. That was someone el--" She stopped herself. "What's important is that whatever you do, you must not let him know you remember."

Slatepaw blinked. "But the others--" He paused. "Why don't they remember? I don't understand. I thought it was just Cinderpaw, but if it's more...it's everyone?"

Burnetflame nodded grimly. "It's him. He put something in them, something to-- Slatepaw, have you ever heard of the oleander flower?"

Slatepaw shook his head, then, rethinking, nodded. "I think I do remember. Doesn't Mossmask...put it in his food?" He remembered being cautioned by his mother not to eat anything that Mossmask ate, because it had the flower in it.

Burnetflame nodded. "He does. Something in his past-- well, whenever he remembers it he can't stop screaming. I think it was the fire that did it. You know, I assume, that he lost that half his fur in a fire?" When Slatepaw didn't make any reaction beside looking ill, Burnetflame continued. "The oleander flower cleans the mind. Well, that's what Rushshade said. But that's just a nice way of saying it can erase memories."

Slatepaw shuddered. "So he-- he gave them--?" Burnetflame didn't even respond besides nodding her head. "But he's the deputy. He's not evil! He can't be!" But even as he mewed that, suspicion crawled through his fur. But what if he is?

His former mentor flicked her tail. "Slatepaw, how did I die?"

He opened his mouth to respond before freezing. He didn't want to say, he didn't want to talk about it, because Burnetflame shouldn't be dead.

"You don't know, do you?"

"They told me it was PrickleClan cat." Slatepaw lowered his head, pain in his eyes. "A skirmrish when you were alone. But they...they wouldn't tell me who did it."

Burnetflame's demeanor softened for a split second before her fur bristled. "It wasn't PrickleClan! They just wanted an excuse for war-- you know how bloodthirsty Brightstar is!"

"Then...Burnetflame...what happened to you?" the apprentice whispered.

"That excuse for a cat murdered me!" she snarled, not even an inch from his nose.

Slatepaw growled. "H-how could he!? How could he-?"

The dead warrior cut him off. "He's the deputy, he can get away with anything if he puts his mind to it." She paused. "You must stop him, before he does any more damage."

There was one more thing that was bothering him. "But if everyone else doesn't remember--" He swallowed. "Why do I remember? How didn't it affect me?"

Burnetflame shook her head. "My only guess could be is that you weren't in camp at the time."

Slatepaw's memory went back to the night of their last meeting.

"See you tomorrow then!" Cinderpaw called cheerfully as he headed back to camp. Slatepaw stood there in a moment. The night was quiet, peaceful.

Mist swirling around his paws as he padded through the thick underbrush, the sky covered by the towering trees.

Slatepaw took a step back. I stayed out late...

He looked the she-cat in the eyes and slowly opened his mouth to reply. Something caught in his throat, a feeling of complete isolation and loneliness. I'm the only one who remembers "Burnetflame...what could I possibly do?"

Burnetflame shook her head sadly. "That I cannot help you with." She looked at the sky, thoughtful. Slatepaw blinked as he realized the night sky had no stars-- odd, as it was StarClan, but then he remembered that the stars were the cats themselves. "Perhaps rebuild the rebellion? Try to break the effect of the herb?" She sighed. "But the second one isn't likely, not at all."

Suddenly the world around him started to flicker, and right before he blinked he glimpsed StarClan shrouded in darkness. Then he opened his eyes again and it was normal, though Burnetflame's face was screwed up in concentration.

"We don't have any more time," she mewed. A rippled of pain went through her. "I'm sorry, Slatepaw-- it wasn't supposed to turn out like this--"

"Wait! Burnetflame!" Slatepaw's paws lashed out in desperation, but Burnetflame was only an image, she wasn't there-- she was fading. A sob caught in his throat. "Don't leave!"

"The rebellion will rise again!" Burnetflame cried, though her voice was fading.

"No! Burnetflame!" Slatepaw cried. "Please, come back!" He ran forward towards the trees in front of him, tears welling in his eyes as he tried to find his beloved mentor once more.

Mist swirled thickly around him and soon he came to a halt. "Burnetflame..." His tail dropped, defeated.

Then the world shuddered around him, falling back into darkness and the emptiness of dreams. Then Slatepaw was running back up a river, falling off cliffs and dreaming of worlds without Brightstar and Spruceblaze and where all could speak and be heard.

Even as he forgot that he was dreaming, Burnetflame's voice echoed through the hills that he climbed as a lion. "The rebellion will rise again."

by moon

revised by ember