She should, since I'm the cat who's going to push her over the bluff if she so much as touches my brother again.

No matter how many times Creekrush's words resounded in his mind, nor how often he tried to force them down his throat the way he scarfed down his morning mouse before he headed out on Bend patrol, he had not even the decency to feel guilty. Lilystep had scented Ramstrike in his dreams... more than once. Furthermore, once he learned to trace her dream-scent, they had come much closer than a mere touch, they had come to silky fur running over fur, their soft purrs mixed into one harmonious sound as they lay together on (scandal of all scandals!) the Bluff itself. Their paws touched as they stood above the dangerous waters, which were dark as the night sky in all his dreams. No longer could the fall that bothered him so in the daytime hold its sinister effect on him. When the two cats stood together, they were invincible.

If only he had seen her in real life so much as once in the last two long, worrisome moons. The prey sat uneasily in his stomach. Real food held little appeal to him now that the substance of the stars itself was close to his reach. In fact, next to nothing did. This was a double-edged curse- on the flip side of the issue, the rain barraging his pelt no longer made him shiver. He felt only a cool numbness that traced the contours of his thin body, and as he held his head skywards, a quivering pitter of droplets about his eyes and large ears.

He sat down on his side of the Bend and crossed his paws over each other, resting his head upon them both. They were a soft cushion, at least moreso than the reeds, and he had tried both. Perhaps if he slept he could see Ramstrike again, brave and brilliant as she was in real life. Stars knowed he had tried- his constant volunteering for the position of Bend duty reached levels of suspiciousness, which his two sisters were keen to point out, under the guise of helping him.

How could they be helping when the lack of Ramstrike pierced him so deeply?

As if in a dream, he caught her scent on his nose, the thick taste of smoky prey, hints of bitter water, and an overwhelming aroma of distant sun, the latter of which was shared by all RyeClan cats. They longed for it, it was in their blood.

She stepped out of his dreams and into reality, appearing like a phantom on the other side of the river.

Most cats never looked the way Lilystep imagined them in his dreams. Other she-cats' coats lost their luster when they were plucked from the landscapes of his mind and into dusty, mediocre reality, and the rain and river always left them damp and furious. Ramstrike, however, looked fiercer for the trouble her coat had been through and twice as glorious as she had appeared in Lilystep's mind. She shone like a firebrand through the leaves: bright, hot, and furious despite the weather's attempts to pummel her into submission. He could see the dark socks of mud and the scuffed fur from their fight on the way here but nonetheless it was clear that she had emerged from the trial victorious.

"You again," Ramstrike called across the river, a curious purr to her voice.

"Yes," Lilystep said, voice rising with his heart. "It's me. I've been coming here often, just hoping-"

Ramstrike's eyes widened in realization, though it wasn't with shock but rather amusement. "Ah. You really do have a death wish, don't you, little fish? You shouldn't have come back for me."

"I would swim the broadest part of the river for you," Lilystep vowed.

"I've heard ShallowClan cats could swim like fish as well, but I've never heard of a cat swimming the whole river." Ramstrike mewed. "You're brave, too."

Do you think so? thought the bird in Lilystep's heart, eager, but despite the fluttering of its wings against his chest and the excited trill rising in his throat, he replied, "I want to be."

"Then no water can stop us. Come on over." declared Ramstrike.

Lilystep had crossed the river many times over in his dreams, where he had seen her and leapt it in one swift bound, but he trembled and stopped short when the gray waters stood before him today. Swallowing his fear, he took his first pawstep into the depths, and the water licked at his paws, threatening to drag him to the depths. He pressed forwards, keeping his eyes on the ginger she-cat in the distance, and dragged himself up onto the other side, sputtering.

Ramstrike drew close to him, her breath soft on his ear. "We can't be long. The clan trusts me, but they'll be upping patrols around the area nonetheless."

Lilystep stared at his paws, feeling dizzy with the terror of what he had done. "Patrols?" he asked meekly.

"Oh yes. There have been rogues on the territory, and fierce skirmishes over their comings and goings, too. I wonder, though, with all the blood spilt, if those other cats have anywhere to go after their deaths..."

Lilystep cried, "Of course not! We're clan cats. We live the noble life, so we reap our reward in the end."

"I hesitate to call our lives any more noble than the rogues."

"You wouldn't?" asked Lilystep, incredulous. When this failed to move the scarlet she-cat, he continued, voice hushed, "Wouldn't you die for it?"
All the humor of her voice gone, Ramstrike answered, "In a heartbeat. Isn't that the problem, though? That we live in a society that makes it necessary that we lay down our lives for a petty squabble across the river? Owlstar bares her wounds like they're anything to be proud of. She'd have us fight a hundred battles for no purpose, just to trace more lines down the backs of our young, to rile them up further. Dewstar is just as happy to uphold our despicable tradition- so who would stand up against them? We might as well walk into this river and try to fight the tides."

Lilystep paused for a long moment, a second stretching out into an uncomfortable infinity. It was not just her fur that resembled flame, rather, there was a fire in this she-cat which shook her all the way to the core. At last, Ramstrike cotinued, "You're a rebel too. Don't deny it- otherwise, you wouldn't be waiting for me here today. If you love me, you strike out against your clan."

Lilystep hesitated, fear making his limbs shake like branches caught in high wind. "I'm sorry." he meowed, though he wasn't sure quite to who he was apologizing.

Ramstrike gave him a sharp nod. "If you were sorry, you would go."

"No," Lilystep said. "I'm not. I don't think I feel sorry at all."

"So where to then, rebel?"

He tasted her coat, drinking in the scent of her, and his heart longed for the RyeClan sunshine. Instinct struck through him like a bolt of lightning, and though his fur was damp with rain, he decided, "I want to see your territory."

"Ah," Ramstrike said, and lead him through the trees. She turned once, and Lilystep's ears perked. Quick as a viper, the she-cat dove as him and scoured her claws across his flank, tearing fur. Lilystep, terrified, fell back.

"Now, it looks like there's been a struggle," she says, "Though they'll still catch onto us if you go on like this, with such a thick scent." She paused once at a cluster of thick-stalked grass, which exuded a strong, unpleasant, scent, and hissed, "Roll in this."

Lilystep hadn't considered that RyeClan might trace his trail, but he was immediately grateful to Ramstrike for recognizing the possibility. Even through his gratitude, he couldn't keep his whole body from shaking or his side from stinging with pain.

All of it ceased when he stepped out of the tree cover and back under the open sky. The scent of rain and dirt was thick around them, overwhelming everything, but as they stood silent, the rain fell off around them. From the scattered cloud cover burst the sun, more radiant than Lilystep had ever seen it. Every blade of golden grass and every thicket for miles rustled, exhaling in relief and triumph, and further in the distance Lilystep could make out the shapes of cats, shifting with the landscape, their tails and eartips just visible above the sway of the land.

The grass crunched unevenly between Lilystep's paws, as if the ground knew this was sacred land he was trespassing on. Ramstrike muttered, "You should go." The sun was drawing dangerously close to the far horizon, over the edge of the territory where the forest reclaimed what had been lost long ago to flames.

"I don't want to go," Lilystep mewled, like a kit, but he turned anyways. His fur brushed hers for a few seconds too long, the curve of her tail beckoning to him, and her cold eyes watched him with all their fire, gone.

"You shouldn't have come, then." Ramstrike told him, drawing away. There was dirt on her fur, his mud, and a few blades of the harsh-smelling grass they'd used to mask his scent. She accompanied him back to the river in silence, both of them quiet as if the other had died.

Lilystep asked, "Why didn't you just head home?"

Ramstrike lowered herself into the water, drenching her pelt. The river fell from her in torrents as she ascended the other side of the river, crouched down, and she told him, "I had to wash you off of me."

-the cat who's going to push her over the bluff-

The thick clumps of congealed red-brown fur along the bottom of her coat looked like blood.

She left and Lilystep fled into the night.

He dreamed of her again, more powerfully than ever, but this time her fur was the sun. She wreathed herself around Lilystep, drenching him in the heat of her territory, and he could feel the smoke inside his lungs. He could feel his fur sparking up like those long-ago trees, but he couldn't open his mouth to say a word as he caught on fire.

(A/N: Lily, my poor baby, you're in over your head...

I had this done for quite a few days, however, I decided to post it today because from now on I will be updating Sundays- each and every Sunday. Audience interest was tapering off a bit when I stopped but I hope resuming a more constant update schedule will help regain audience trust and bolster numbers. Thank you all for your patience.)