“So tell me, is it normal to totally lose your mind? I won’t announce my sheer descent, But, holy fuck, there will be signs.”

A low, howling wind settles around the group of WindClan cats returning from the Gathering - Newleaf tends to bring about warm nights, but as dark clouds crawled across an inky sky, any hopes of a warm nest back at camp are dashed. The Gathering itself was uninterrupted, and the new alliances had been received well, but WindClan was largely silent apart from the crunching of trampled grass. Trudging to the peak of a short hill, the first raindrops hit as camp comes into view - fat and fast-falling: the first signs of an incoming storm.

As the cats from the Gathering begin streaming in through the camp entrance, it’s clear that any gossip would have to be put on hold until the morning - a few words are exchanged before cats begin disappearing into dens. The wind began to pick up speed, and small puddles were slowly forming in the middle of camp; the dips and rises in the clearing caused rivulets of water to stream towards the centre, muddying the sandy ground and forcing everyone into shelter. Kits were bundled away and huddled in the nursery, while some of the elders were persuaded into the medicine den for the night. Any tension from the Gathering was forgotten as cats gathered for warmth and security, while the stench of wet fur drove others to find their own hiding spots under ledges - a few cats crouched nervously near the entrance to the tunnels, watching the water pool at their paws.

StarClan had sent this storm.

At least, that’s what Pigeonpiercer thought. He’d shoved his way through his panicked clanmates before the rain had gotten bad, found his way to the elders' den and collapsed. He’d made a purposeful effort to drag his nest away from the huddle of his senior clanmates, but had positioned himself so that the rain thrummed on his pelt from both sides and the chill from the wind seeped into his weakened bones. The greying warrior grumbled - refusing to admit his mistake - and buried his muzzle into his nest, it wasn’t like he was going to sleep, anyway.

They’re upset with the Clans for having this mushy alliance, Pigeonpiercer returned to his thoughts with his eyes focused on the wall, we’re four clans for a reason - StarClan doesn’t want us to unite! Now they’re angry, and they’ve sent this horrible weather. He grinned to himself, maybe the storm will be enough to kill that stupid new leader RiverClan has - he already looked half-dead! Letting a small chuckle escape him, his mind ran away with his thoughts and he began to forget the world around him. His eyelids, heavy from many restless days, began to close…

And Pigeonpiercer is face-to-face with Cactuspaw again, his thought process vanishing as he watches his brother - with that terrified, awful look on his face - screech for help, the noise cut off as his head disappears under the river. Pigeonpiercer’s screaming again, his ears are ringing and he can’t breathe and-

He jolts awake with a gasp, his breathing shallow and his claws dug deep into the lining of his nest. He’s shaking, but can’t tell if it’s because he’s cold. Glancing at his surroundings - trying to ground himself - he can’t seem to get rid of the lump in his throat and he’s blinking hard to get rid of the rain in his eyes. A pair of half-closed eyes gaze at him from the other side of the den - Pigeonpiercer bares his teeth, shakes his head, and turns back around. It’s the same dream, he reminded himself, it’s always the same…

But when his eyes drift to a close again Pigeonpiercer is in the same place - sunlight shines through both entrances to the elders’ den, and chatter of his clanmates bubbles outside. His mind is cloudy, but this must mean he made it through the night - he slept normally, no bad dreams at all! He smiled smugly, beginning to stand, but his ears perk up; someone’s talking.

“I just don’t understand, Pigeonpiercer,” they sigh - his sister’s voice, “there’s nothing left for us here, why can’t you see that?”

“Because I’m not a COWARD who runs away from my problems!” He’s talking without moving his mouth, the words quick and sharp-tongued, “We’re here because it’s safe, that’s why they left us. But if you can’t see that, maybe you’re not as loyal as I thought you were.”

No! His mind begins to race, his heart pounding again, I didn’t mean it - I’m so sorry, Featheredfur! He turns his frantic eyes to look at his sister hopelessly, her grey pelt; her big, clumsy paws; strong muscles under sleek fur, the thought of her dying somewhere he could never reach gripped his heart and rose it into his throat. Her darkened eyes narrowed as she bit back a retort, and she stepped out of the elders’ den, her drooping tail disappearing around the rock-face. Pigeonpiercer reached out with his claws, a pitiful wail dying in his jaws like weak prey.

CRA-KOOM!

The elder flinches at the noise of roaring thunder and he’s back in the dark, his pelt soaked from ears to tail-tip. He’s splayed out in his nest now, one foreleg stretched out in front of him - his breathing is normal this time, but there’s a gnawing despair in his stomach that stains his cheek fur and pushes a choked whimper out of his throat. The sound of nearby snoring reverberates in his ears and he begins to knead his nest with his paws in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. Why must StarClan be so cruel? His head jerked as he thought, can they not give me just one normal night?

The rain thrums on the outer wall of the elders’ den, and on any other day Pigeonpiercer would have been comforted by the ambience - but instead his ears stayed pinned back, trying to block out as much noise as he could manage, and he crouched as low to the ground as possible.

The den flickers with white light before being plunged into darkness yet again, and - despite his best efforts - when the thunder booms overhead Pigeonpiercer scrunches his eyes shut in fear. Please, he pleads to his ancestors, no more…

Sharp claws are digging into his back - his eyes snap open to reveal he’s back in the river border. He opens his jaws to scream, but it releases as a stream of bubbles and there’s water forcing itself into his throat and his lungs are burning and his blood is running and it all hurts so much-

His head resurfaces, but he’s still not back in his nest. He can smell blood. Erratic breaths heave his chest in and out faster than he thought possible, but before Pigeonpiercer can regain his strength his eyes travel to the heap of blood-soaked fur that was laid a few tail-lengths away from him. There’s a shallow hole at his paws and he can feel his torn claws aching with the effort. The blood of Komodocatcher is in his fur, it’s in his mouth and his nose and all over his paws, and in the corner of his eye he swears he can see the body move. Bile rises in his throat as he realises that he’d buried Komodocatcher regardless.

In the empty WindClan territory, Pigeonpiercer raises his head. There’s not a single cloud in the sky; a bright sea of stars glare at him from above. StarClan knew.

Pigeonpiercer’s eyes snap open once more, and before he can register where he even is he’s dredging himself up, shaking his head wildly and on the verge of hyperventilating. The rain thrums on the walls - the sound of star-ridden paws, hammering against his den, here to drag him into the Dark Forest where he belongs. There’s another flash of lightning, and a third roar deafens Pigeonpiercer - it’s closer than the others, StarClan is closer. They’re coming for him.

He needs to leave.

With the rest of the clan asleep, the elder disappears into the night with no issue. His paws meet the familiar grassy moors and he’s like a warrior all over again, not from youthful hopefulness but out of sheer desperation to get as far away from the clans as possible. I’ll find Featheredfur again, he plans, then I’ll be safe, then StarClan can’t find me.

Tearing through his territory, Pigeonpiercer veers towards RiverClan territory. That familiar helplessness opened in his chest once again, realising the scope of the territory - Featheredfur could be anywhere! His paws skid on the muddy ground, his vision is a blur, and his lungs are beginning to burn, but he cannot stop. He can’t stop running. They’ll catch him if he stops running.

As his legs begin to ache too painfully to continue, his ears perk, he can see a figure - just barely visible through the pelting rain - strong muscles rippling under short, sleek fur covering a slender, tall body. Pigeonpiercer chokes in disbelief, and without thinking he called out hoarsely to them, “Featheredfur, you waited for me! I’m coming!”

Featheredfur turns her head, but her muzzle is freakishly long, eyes bulging from atop a large, drooling snout with small, pointed ears.

It’s not Featheredfur at all - it’s a dog, and Pigeonpiercer had just gotten its attention.

The star-shaped scar on his neck burns as if it was fresh, and for a moment Pigeonpiercer stands completely still as the dog begins to lope towards him. His mouth is dry, and his paws are trembling; the dog is faster than he could ever be, gangly legs making easy work of the wet ground. It was only when the dog was a few fox-lengths away did the elder turn tail and begin stumbling away, praying for just a fraction of the strength that had made it easy to run laps around the camp when he was younger.

The powerful strides of the hound behind him shakes the ground as he leaps away, rising to the top of a small peak - the lip of the gorge stretched out in front of him. Glancing, he could make out RiverClan territory from here, and although hatred for those fish-eaters had burned bright inside him for most of his life, there was a part of him that pleaded for anyone to see him in trouble - someone who could call for help, or distract this horrible hellhound. A fourth strike of lightning lit up the world around him once again, just long enough to see the smallest figure near the riverbed.

“Help!” Pigeonpiercer yowled, his voice catching in his throat, “Please! I’m sorry!” The words were swallowed up by the clap of thunder that followed, but as the cat at the riverbed raised their head his blood went cold.

Buzzardburn - his nephew, his WindClan nephew, traipsing around on RiverClan territory.

Closer to the gorge now, Pigeonpiercer felt a fresh wave of panic wash over him as the dog leapt easily over the small hill that separated them. Barely a tail-length apart, the hound stuttered and stood still - gleaming, hungry eyes searching his frail body. Pigeonpiercer wanted to wretch, but in his heart a foolhardy resolution was beginning to form. His tail lashed, there really was nothing left for him here.

“Then if I am to die,” Pigeonpiercer began, “It will be from my own claws, not StarClan’s.” He snarled, gazing up towards a clouded sky. Cactuspaw, are you watching me?

His final scraps of strength ignited, and the elder threw himself at the dog - a stark sense of familiarity following his pawsteps, his mind flickering in and out of memories from his apprenticeship.

Slashing down hard into the side of the hound, eerie satisfaction flooded through him as it howled and bucked. Gripping with his claws into torn fresh, Pigeonpiercer bit down hard into as much skin as his jaws could get a hold on - the feeling of skin breaking, the soft fur of Komodocatcher is in his mouth again, there’s dirt in his claws and he can’t rid himself of the stench of blood. Pigeonpiercer chokes.

Faltering, the dog dislodges him with a shake and sends him to the ground again. Pigeonpiercer hits hard ground and hisses in pain, but he’s back up again and - his mind whirling from the impact - throws himself back into the fight, shoving the dog further towards the edge of the gorge. He can hear the rushing water from up here, and that familiar icy fear frosts over his heart again. Pigeonpiercer swallows it down and throws himself at the side of the dog again.

The ground begins to break away.

Gripping onto the dogs back, there’s blood flowing freely down one side of Pigeonpiercer’s face but he digs his claws into that short fur until he fears they might snap off. For the first time, he can see pain flicker in those bulging eyes and he yowls in triumph, pushing with all of his weight until the dog staggers sideways.

Sideways, off the edge of the gorge.

Pigeonpiercer lets go instantly, the weight of the hound making it fall faster than him. He swallows down the fear, the regret, the sadness, and hopes that it will at least be quick. Twisting, he looks towards the sky one last time.

“Are you happy now, StarClan?” He manages to croak, his eyes narrow. The fall seems to last an eternity, long enough for him to worry whether or not he had done enough for his clan. A sob built in his throat as he thought: he hadn’t protected his siblings like he’d supposed to, Cactuspaw had died, and Featheredfur hated being in WindClan. What had he given to his clanmates? Would they remember him, would they come looking for him? He resigned the thoughts, and closed his eyes - his last hope was that his sister was safe.

Pigeonpiercer hits the water, and he does not struggle.

When his eyes open again, he’s taken aback - it’s completely dark, but he can feel ground beneath his paws, he was breathing.. Was this StarClan? Or the Dark Forest? Where was everyone?

“Hello?” He called, but it barely travelled, swallowed by the blackness surrounding him from all sides. Perhaps this is normal, maybe he has to walk to StarClan - then he’ll see Cactuspaw again! Pigeonpiercer smiled warmly, thinking of reuniting with his brother, and began to walk - though the darkness never seemed to change.