The vigil for Dewstar was like none any living warrior had seen. The elders, who had been kits at the time of Shallowstar's death, knew in their bones what their head had long forgotten. They held close to the body, wailing their sorrows into the sky, and Piketooth spoke at length to the corpse, as if it were listening. No warrior did not stop to pay respects, if begrudgingly in some cases, and Swanfeather brought her kits out to meet the leader they'd never have.

Ottersoul paced the camp, the length of the body, and the wide spine of the Highledge, looking over the warriors time and again, and at last, when it seemed the night itself could no longer hold its breath, she announced to the clan, "I have decided."

All heads turned upwards.

"May Dewstar hear and approve my choice, as I hope he will approve me when I trek to the Place Where Stars Fall Down: Stormpath will be the new deputy of ShallowClan."

The camp raised cries nearly loud as their mourning wails for Dewstar, though several cats were silent. As Stormpath passed through the ranks of his clanmates, he watched disgruntled rising stars cast wary glances in his direction.

"What's the matter with him?" asked Rainfern.

"He's plain," responded Creekrush, when Stormpath had passed and risen to meet Ottersoul. They stood in silence, the dark warrior almost dumbstruck by all the attention. "See that? There's no confidence in his eyes, no sense of justice. He doesn't even feel he's earned it, he's merely a dutiful warrior with moderate skill in trivial matters. On the surface, a good choice, and one with few drawbacks, but in times like these? He won't last long."

Lilystep, in the midst of this tragedy, twitched.

He saw Ramstrike disappear amongst the reeds and then the trees on the banks, again and again, saw his sister's furious expression, and he thought of these things at such intensity that it was as if he had been blinded. Nothing in front of him made any connection whatsoever, no word nor sight could stir him, and he lumbered, dumbfounded, to his den around moonhigh, when the warriors had begun to disperse.

This was their night. She might be waiting there. She could be waiting there, alone, and what would she think of him then? Would she believe that he had betrayed them, that their love meant nothing in the face of war? Had that not been what had plagued their relationship since the very beginning? If he was to falter now, would she take the gesture and flee, and he, in turn would lose her forever?

Creekrush brushed past him not much later, settled far enough that they did not touch, and her eyes were like cold stars in the dark, the heavens, judging him. "Never get in my way again," she warned him.

No, thought Lilystep, at once certain of what he must do. You are in my way.

The camp settled, and as night stole over the tired cats and closed their eyes, Lilystep rose. He was drowsy with the lack of sleep, but his mind still turned with the two images. Running. Sneering. Running. Sneering. It was not a pretty image, but he tasted the roof of his mouth and tasted the ghost of RyeClan at moonhigh, where he had stood in a sea of grass with the love of his life. Running. Sneering.

Stepping forwards.

There were still cats crouched around the body of Dewstar, primarily the elders, although Ottersoul also hung her head heavy over her oldest friend. Lilystep stole past them, past the edge of camp, and his heart beat like the wings of a butterfly.

Something crunched sticks in the dark. He reared back, mouth full of excuses and his claws unsheathed in preparation to ward off an unsavory beast of the night, but the cat who emerged followed it with a "shhhhhh".

Lilystep remained silent.

The calico apprentice stepped towards him, and Lilystep found himself frozen still. The tom shuddered in the lack of light, the two of them hardly perceptible even under the clear sky. A large tree held both of them in the cradle of its shadow, and they were both glad of it. "Who are you going to?" asked Poppypaw. "I won't tell. I was at the Bend earlier." She lowered her head. "You can't tell anyone, but I'm a rebel. I think you are too, and I trust you, but no one else. Especially not Creekrush. She's scary."

"I would never tell Creekrush in a thousand moons," agreed Lilystep, relieved. "I am a rebel, but in the name of love. I got to seek the one cat I truly care about. I go to save myself from war."

"Oh," Poppypaw said. "I love my brother, but he's gone. I love my mom, but she's also gone. I don't know if loving others is working out for me that well. I want to love Bluepetal, but then she might go away too, so for now, we're keeping it as more of a 'mutual respect' kind of deal."

"Love openly." Lilystep whispered, sure of this more than anything on this fateful night. "Love your siblings, love your parents, and love your clan. Love peace, love your clanmates, and everything will work out. I promise."

Poppypaw nodded, eagerly. "But you want to be mates with this cat. Who you're going to see, I mean."

"I want to be mates, but she is already my sky, my moon, and all my stars. She is the fire that burns inside of my heart, sparks from my tongue, and holds beneath my paws. All I can offer is my self, if she'll take that."

Poppypaw's eyes widened. Lilystep was not sure if the apprentice could understand. He did not think a cat in the world could understand what he had with Ramstrike.

"I may not come back tonight."

"If you love her," Poppypaw nodded, "You should go to her."

The two of them were giddy with adrenaline.

"Thank you," whispered Lilystep and he dashed away. He looked back only once, concerned for the apprentice who he had made complicit in this great act, but saw and heard nothing. He thought of Creekrush, gnashing her teeth, and knew that in spirit his sister could not be far behind. She might take off tomorrow, when she found the nest beside her empty, she might even rouse the clan tonight, but she was never as fleet of foot as him, to her own dismay.

No one could run as fast as love, or as destiny. They would be fleet of foot as rabbits and birds, no, like young stars shooting across the sky.

She was at the Bend. Her green eyes peered out of the darkness, her battle wounds were still visible on her shoulders and legs, but she was beautiful as ever when she stepped into the light. Her eyes were sad, but tonight they had nothing to fear. Blood masked their scents, and tomorrow there would be no clans to hide from. There would only be the open sky and the two of them, which made his heart pace more furiously.

Running. Running. Running.

Bright eyes.

"We need to talk." Ramstrike mewed. She was as soft in voice as she had been the night they played in the river, and he longed for the moment she would become light by his side. He knew that his lover hid in the depths of this sadness, buried and awaiting his touch, and he swam to her.

She backed up as he approached, and he agreed, "This is a good night to speak. Ramstrike, we only have so much time before morning. Our patrols begin before dawn."

"Ours as well," Ramstrike said. "It won't be that long."

It could. It could be forever.

"Ramstrike." Lilystep said. "This is getting harder to do."

"Yes."

"The stakes have risen."

"Yes!"

"And though you are the world to me, it is becoming evident we can not stay here."

"No. We can't. We can't do this any longer."

"Ramstrike, run away with me." Lilystep pleaded.

Ramstrike's breath caught in her throat. She recoiled, looking aghast, and then, beneath all her horror, something light bubbled to the surface, a soft expression, an inner kindness. "We could be free," she said. "But we could die. We will die when they catch us. They will be on our tails all of our lives, at the back of our minds, and they will wait in the stars to plunge us into the river's depths when we die."

"I am not afraid of death." he promised. "Only an eternity spent away from you."

"I can't leave..."

The moon was beginning to set. "We can't stay. They'll know tomorrow. They'll see me, and I'll attest to it. I can't leave without you, Ramstrike. We belong together, alive or dead." The desperation peaked in his voice, and Ramstrike closed her eyes.

"I'll come," she said. "I know a shortcut. Through my territory."

Lilystep trembled in anticipation. The two cats cut past the woods onto an open field, and Lilystep was unsure if he was awake or dreaming. The world blurred into color, into certainty and the feel of cold air over his fur, and into the sky, which was caught in Ramstrike's fur. She was the light of every risen sun and her eyes were every star. Her claws glistened with moonlight, and when she held back, pausing near the banks, he stopped too, the whole world wondering in this hushed silence.

"I'm so sorry," Ramstrike whispered, ginger fur stirred by wind.

"I am sorry, too," he said, stepping closer, "For a thousand things, and for a thousand moments. For not running sooner. For not finding you earlier. I don't think I've ever felt so sad and so alive in all my life."

Ramstrike leaned in, and with an upwards motion, struck him with claws cold as the moon. Lilystep's eyes widened as the world turned from him, and there she was, repeated a thousand times behind his half-closed eyes. He drew breath, but it was becoming impossible to taste anything but his own blood. He looked up and saw the river, or was it the river, and all the stars were in pairs, and so was he. Stone spun around him and he became certain, so certain, and everything began to slow.

Lilystep fell into the sky.