❝ ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇǫᴜᴀʟʟʏ. ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ʙʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜsᴛʏ ʀᴇᴄᴇssᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍɪɴᴅs, ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴠᴀɴɪᴛʏ; ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs, ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍᴀʏ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴇʏᴇs, ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ. ❞

✧ ༻⋆ ✿ ⋆༺ ✧

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ | ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ | 857

┌                                         ┐
ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ᴀ ᴍ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ʏ
└                                         ┘

The sky is mostly cotton-dabbed clouds with deep steel greys that mirror the hues of the thunderpath despite looking harmlessly fluffy. Everything is a hushed shade, so pale and dull, the scene resembled that of a place with brooding souls waiting for a storm to sweep them away.

As dream-like mist began to float in gracefully, yet plentiful, like a monarch butterfly migration. The beat of 'wings' was calming, in contrast to the brooding, dulled sky.

The mist had completely set in, comfortably twirling around slowly, as if waiting for someone in anticipation. There were no sun nor moon, with only clouds decorating the drab sky.

Suddenly, the mist started dancing agitatedly, as if their guest had arrived. Trees started bending to the dance, and the clouds above swirled soothingly in an attempt to calm the mist's nerves.

Crepuscular rays cloaked over the mist's agitation, revealing the sun peaking behind the grim clouds. The rays weaved their way to a cat; one with a glossy coat of brown.

Her iridescent green eyes shone like unripe grapes that hung near Twoleg areas. As she made her way forward, her eyes shone like the first berries on leaf-bare holly; unabashedly brilliant, scarlet, hypnotic.

What does it mean to live?

The bengal she-cat raised her head and met the sun. As she narrowed her eyes, tears tumbled down her cheeks, drop by drop. As the tears fell onto the ground, all greenery within a tail-length shrivelled up and withered away instantly.

Why do I exist?

Looking away, she continued trudging through the faded grass. The grass felt rough and shaggy to touch, coarse and unrefined to walk on. It had the feeling of someone being forced to walk on a grumpy elder's unkempt fur.

Her green eyes stiffened to that of an armour made of rotted wood. Despite the fact that the shield was likely a weak and feeble attempt at locking herself away for all eternity, no one would dare approach someone as toxic and undesirable as her.

What is my name?

The grass cried in deep sorrow for their fallen friends, and the mist had mostly cleared out, pushed away by the insistent zephyr.

She felt pained, emptied; soulless. The nameless she-cat had no identity - she was nothing but an empty vessel waiting to be consumed by endless sorrow. She paid the lives she stole no heed, for her existence required her to steal the life force of others if she wanted to live.

But what am I living for?

A ray of light of nova-brightness washed over the she-cat's darkness, causing her to flinch. However, she embraced it. She embraced the light.

What is my purpose?

The light began to materialise into a more feline figure. The she-cat gazed in wonderment and awe, the green in her eyes slowly returning to its previous shine.

Finding her voice was hard. She had to weave through invisible threads of obstacles, with a likelihood of getting tangled in the spider's web of silence. As she exited with shimmering leap, she found her words - at last. "Who.... Who are you?"

The light had completed solidifying, and was revealed to be a tall silver tabby tom.  His piercing amber eyes were like sacred orbs of eternal blessing and life, causing the she-cat to take a step back. When he spoke, his voice was melodious and silky, urging the she-cat to forget her woes.

"To live, is to suffer. Yet, to suffer, is to cherish little things that you deem important. You exist because you are meant to be here. You were my saviour... And now, I'll be yours, Jaguarstrike," the tom meowed, burning conviction in his eyes. "You live, because I have yet to repay my debt to you. Your purpose is to survive... To live... So that I, Sleethawk, can finally give back to you what you've given me - the will to live on."

And that was the signal for the she-cat - Jaguarstrike - to collapse and break into more tears. Her throat felt coarse, and her tears refused to stop rolling from her eyes. "I-I..."

"I am life and you are death," Sleethawk murmured softly. "However, one cannot exist without the other. I-"

The silver tom stopped himself, and approached the bengal she-cat. She instantly recoiled and backed away, fearing that her disgusting self with stain the pure tom before her.

"I need you, Jaguarstrike," he muttered, inching closer. "Just... Please, don't leave me again. I need you."

Jaguarstrike shut her eyes, shaking violently. "W-What did I do to deserve this? Why-"

She was broken off when Sleethawk walked into her circle of dead grass fearlessly, seemingly unaffected. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at him longingly.

"Even if the whole world turns against you, I will never leave you, nor will I ever turn my back on you," Sleethawk whispered, touching his nose to Jaguarstrike's.

Her eyes brimmed with more pools of tears as she embraced Sleethawk, pouring out her previous sorrows.

And as promised, the silver tabby tom never left.

Thank you, Sleethawk.

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|| ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ ||

I honestly loved this one I wrote! I felt Jaguarstrike's own pain of being alone, questioning about her existence. I got this out later because school started for me, but I hope I haven't faltered!

This one-shot is for WattyWarriors' Scriptorial, Round Theta. {helloilovecats}

This is about Jaguarstrike dreaming; a nightmare that turned into a wonderful dream. In that dream, she was death, and had no friends. Sleethawk, who was life, pledged himself to her, promising to forever stay by her side. In real life, that is what he did as well.

A trivia will be ended later for anyone is interested. Thanks for reading!

~ Sky ❄

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|| ᴛʀɪᴠɪᴀ ||

➵ This didn't actually happen; it's a dream. However, Jaguarstrike and Sleethawk's relationship is similar in the aspect described in the dream.

➵ Jaguarstrike and Sleethawk's relationship is complicated and mysterious.

➵ The dream somewhat reflects the characters in real life. Jaguarstrike is avoided by many, even though she is a valued member of the Clan. Her coldness and sheer intelligence shun most of her Clanmates, and is a factor of why no one would approach her. On the other hand, Sleethawk, although reserved, is valued and approachable. He is seen as a semblance of greatness; a model of what a warrior should be.

➵ The imagery of life and death is used here as a significant contrast, yet perfect blend to Jaguarstrike and Sleethawk's compatibility.

➵ Jaguarstrike's presence is soothing for Sleethawk, especially when his fears come to haunt him.