The border had become her solace. It was the only place where she felt as though she was away from the prying, harsh, deadly and laser-sharp eyes of her Clanmates, the same loving, considerate, and pleasant Clanmates that had trusted her so greatly - with their lives, with their kits' lives, with... everyone.

And she had betrayed them.

No, Hawkfrost did.

I did.

Many cats within her Clan had been outraged at the actions of the dark brown tabby, particularly some of the apprentices who had looked up to the strong-minded warrior. She felt as though she had betrayed her Clan by not saying anything all those moons ago, back when Hawkfrost had planted the fake sign in front of her former mentor's den.

And the awful one about Stormfur and Brook- at the thought of it, her lip curled furiously. How had she allowed herself to do such a thing to the poor, undeserving cats? How had she allowed such a thing to occur under her acceptance? Sure, Hawkfrost had blackmailed her into it, but she technically had been in control.

Was she sad about her brother's death...? She preferred... not to answer that question. After his death, the medicine cat had thrown herself into her work as if to distract from the reality of the situation. She had gathered more herbs than ever before, organized more often than any time in the past, and trained Willowpaw more often than any normal apprentice trained.

The camp was an uncomfortable place. She felt like she had lied time and time again to her Clanmates. The reality that she didn't believe in StarClan also settled harshly onto her at times, knowing that Leafpool had to receive a dream from her former mentor, Mudfur. She swallowed heavily, reminded once more of the moth-wing sign.

Her heart skipped a beat and Mothwing shook her head harshly as if to abandon the memories swirling in her head. The dappled golden she-cat bounded swiftly out of the camp, quick to spring over the streams surrounding it. She loved RiverClan's territory, but sometimes it felt foreign like she didn't belong. And, really, her brother's actions only seemed to isolate her further.

As she ran out past the streams, she allowed her pace to lapse into a comfortable dash. Her paws slammed rhythmically against the ground, tail streaming out behind her like a flag. Ears pressing tightly to her skull, she navigated around a few bushes that poked out of the mostly clear landscape.

Eventually, the golden medicine cat came upon the border. Her amber eyes immediately swept across the long and large expanse of the lake. In the sky above lay a blanket of stars, one accented by the darkness of night. The she-cat lay down by the lakeshore, letting her reflection stare back at her with sharp eyes.

Leafpool.

The ThunderClan medicine cat popped into her head and the RiverClanner sat up immediately.

Across the lake lay Leafpool, brown tail curled over her muzzle as if to block out the rest of the noise that seemed to clog her senses. Her amber eyes darted upward to see that it was a few nights, perhaps the night, before the Moonpool meeting. Her heart sprung upward yet the she-cat stayed upon the ground.

She disliked being in camp nowadays. It felt strange to be around Brambleclaw, who had saved her father's life when only a few moons or perhaps even halfmoons before she had completely been untrustworthy of the tabby. Perhaps that was why she had been sent the sign of her sister and the tom walking together. To prove he was good.

And she had been comforted by it, of course. StarClan knew best. But when StarClan failed, what took control? Feelings? Intelligence? She didn't know. StarClan wasn't meant to fail. They were her and everyone else's ancestors, watching carefully over them to ensure that nothing was to go wrong and that everything was to go fine.

However, she knew StarClan had to allow her and others to have some form of decision making or power over their own actions. That caused cats to stray from the idea of StarClan, that someone was guiding them delicately with starry pelts and bright eyes. Though, overall, StarClan appeared to be a favorable thing in the eyes of many.

She had seen StarClan's work and StarClan's power. How did leaders have nine lives? They simply didn't gain them with the title of a leader or the suffix they gained at their ceremony, and if that happened to be the case, couldn't anyone have nine lives? No. They simply didn't, and for the reason that they were granted by past cats.

No matter how hard she tried she couldn't keep thinking of the notion that Brambleclaw was next in line for nine lives. Who were to give them? Would she be around to lead him to his ceremony, and ensure that all was well within her ancestors' lives? Would the bond between him and Squirrelflight be even stronger?

Instantly, she was reminded of the WindClan warrior who she had been seeing more and more recently. Crowfeather, his name was, and at the very thought of the dark-furred tom, all sorts of memories, feelings, and emotions bubbled within the medicine cat's mind as if they threatened to burst had she ignored them.

Well, she did. Each and every little thought and emotion was quickly shoved away and out of her mind, pressed into the ground and whisked away till only its memory was left. The memory was easy to get rid of - with a simple huff and shake of her head did it flutter delicately out of her head.

Of course, the thoughts were soon replaced with new ones, quick to absorb her empty mind like a sponge soaking up the salty and gross seawater of an ocean long forgotten by the cats of her time. The she-cat shuffled her position, laying her head even firmer against her white paws beneath her figure. She inched forward, looking at her face leveling her stare in the lake.

Mothwing.

She sat up with a soft, involuntary gasp as she thought of the RiverClan medicine cat. A strong tugging sensation filled her chest, warm, strong, and immediate. Her amber eyes flicked to where it seemed to be coming from.

Its location was the opposing side of the lake, and in front of her - on the lake's surface - Leafpool thought she could see some... sparkly and bright shimmers, each and every one forming a golden she-cat, one that smelled of fish and of flowers and herbs that had been ingrained into memory for both she-cats.

And, consequently, Mothwing saw the bright figure of a brown tabby with a similar scent, yet it did not carry the fishiness that Leafpool noted. The she-cat on the lake's expanse carried a pleasant airiness about her sleek and slim form, tinged with moss and the lovely forest scent of a ThunderClan cat.

Just wait a night and it'll be the Moonpool trip.

Leafpool thought in a direct sort of way - as if speaking to a cat across the lake - laying her head back on her clean and crisp white paws.

Settling down next to the lake, Mothwing confirmed, to no cat other than the slim brown tabby she-cat who she presumed could hear her, to some degree:

See you then.

Written by Lamb
Edited by Jackal