The young cat looked ahead with blue eyes wide and curious. Taking a quick check-around wouldn’t be so bad, right? Maybe she could prove herself this way, she can already imagine herself bravely charging at a tresspasser, and returning to camp with a glowing warrior spirit. She let the vision waver in her mind, grinning to herself.
“I won’t be long.” She meowed. “I’ll be quick! And super duper stealthy.”
———
A bit eagerly, she bounded along the prey trail. Squirrels, voles, mice, rodents of the sorts that she had been learning about. But at any time she turned her head down to gaze at the bloody little bodies, a pair of black little eyes gazed back at her. Dead. It honestly made her wonder if all smaller animals were afraid, too, of what lies for them after death. Do they have their own religion, separate from The Wood? What other hope do they have?
…Or were they so afraid of death, that they abandoned any hope for an afterlife, because they were too scared of what came next?
Snowypaw continued to tread forward. Whoever hunted down these small animals must’ve had plenty of time to do that, she might’ve passed at least seven already. But she was still in the forest, nowhere near what she was expecting. And it became more clear that she wasn’t going anywhere special, she’s reached the last prey.
Now this was certainly not like an ordinary little rodent, not even close to one. Larger body, small claws, long limbs. She sniffed the bite marks on it, a brown hare. It wasn’t impossible for a cat to catch one, but at the same time, it wasn’t as easy as swallowing the very thing. They were quick, always on their feet, and always on the edge. Everything was a threat to them. And their eyes said it all. Always the eyes. They were huge and soulful and aware of everything. Looking at its eyes now, it was like looking at a reflection. After all, Snowypaw was also a little thing.
The only thing left was to wait for a sign. So she stood her ground, steady, balanced, prepared. No way was she going to back down if she’s reached this far. The young silver cat had a determined face put on, and it read that she was fearless.
“I’m done! I followed your silly trail!” She called out, but silence was the only response she got. “Now come and face me and we’ll fight!”
Her tail lashed behind her and she extended out her claws. She circled around the hare with her back arched, eyes darting around her surroundings. The world was bigger than her, and if she wasn’t driven by the courage she built up within her body, she’d feel so small right now.
“I said come out! You wanted me here! Here I am!” She yelled louder. Much so that she barely heard the leaves waving behind her.
In an instant, she felt sharp claws dig into her back, and she opened her mouth to unleash a painful yowl. Snowypaw fell to the floor, pinned by heavy weight, staggering to lift herself up. Given no time to think, her first response was to fight back. With faltering strength, using what little energy, she held up and tried bucking the intruder off. Her whole body lashed and jerked and did all that could be done to escape, blood was starting to trickle down from her neck and back, her throat began to close up. But she fought. Now, the only thing on her mind was to run. To defend herself, but to run. As soon as she could feel the claws loosen up, it would be the first thing she would do.
But the claws did not even budge off of her fur. They sank deeper, heavier. She threw herself in an effort to throw them off, it nearly worked. Her moons of training did something right. But this wasn’t training - she was really going to die.
Intense pain shot her at the back of her neck, a large bite clamped down onto the side of her neck and tugged hard. The jaws tore apart her fur and flesh like she was weak prey, claws scratching at her shoulders. The intruder yanked her down to the grassy floor, green and red. Blood emerged from her neck.
Snowypaw tried to calm her breathing, control herself, so she could get up and run away back home where she could be safe. But she can’t. She wasn’t safe. She never was. She was meant to die like any other animal. And die in fear.
She stared up, the blue sky above her being swallowed up by darkness in her vision. And the world was suddenly so, so cold.
———
“Awake, little cat.”
Snowypaw awoke, standing up to her paws. Stiff, but there was life in her eyes again, and the coldness that encased her body had departed.
She looked and she saw. A sparkling world surrounded her. The world she always saw in her many dreams. This was clearly no forest. She could tell because there were no words that could be sought out in the world to properly describe what she was seeing. Twinkling blue with no moon, heavenly lights without sun, it was a land of great celestial magnitude and prospering of an otherworldly aura that tickled her senses until they were just a numbing feeling. Her ground felt soft, but no grass below. The path laid ahead looked like a long glowing path, and every step engulfed her paws.
“Brave Snowypaw, please do not fret.”
The young cat jumped around and met face to face with the looming divine flame in the shape of a cat. That was new in her dream. She’s heard this voice before, but never seen. The presence of it was burningly bright, she backed away, tail bristling, eyes widened despite the immense power enlightening her rounded face.
“We are expecting you, but not just yet.”
“Not yet?” She repeated it as if she did not understand what it said. “I died?”
“Not quite so.” The ‘cat’ tilted its head. “You are still above the snow.”
“I don’t know what that means.” She was being truthful. “Wait!” She suddenly protested, before it could vanish. “What happened? What killed me?”
The cindering cat did not answer, it looked at her. Then it cooed like a dove.
“Not a stranger, not an intruder has brought your end.” It said, now more firmly. “The cat you know is not your friend.”
Hearing those words made her heart sink a bit. She almost spoke back to question it, but it had more to say.
“Your healer will die. So answer the calls. Listen to our words. Or allow your clan to fall.”
Her vision blacked out once again. Only this time, there was a ringing in her ear. The same ringing after every dream.
You are not one of them.
You are not one of them.
You are not one of them.
You are not one of them.
———
Snowypaw laid atop a nest of moss, leaves, and a few white flowers. She blinked, taking in the family scents and sights. She was back at the new camp, and she was pretty sure she was in the healer’s den. Just then, she winced harshly. Her legs ached and her neck hurt terribly. Using bands of long, thick grass, with cobwebs to stick together, soft moss was bandaged on her neck and tied around to stay in place. But that didn’t calm the hurt all over. At least blood wasn’t leaking out anymore.
Her vision was blurry, she must’ve been asleep for who knows how long, but she saw Gladetrail, the plump brown striped cat with her in the den. From hearing her hiss, the older she-cat turned her head.
“Good morning. How do you feel?” She asked the young cat.
Snowypaw blinked again, a little disoriented, but she understood her. In fact, she understood her so well that she could not believe how well-composed she was to her situation.
“How do you think I feel?!” Snowypaw lashed out. The cat almost stood up, but it ached her to even try moving a muscle. “I almost died! I feel horrified!”
As she went on, another voice joined in. “She’s alive?” Riverleaf bounded into the healer’s den, eyes welling up and shouting with joy. “Snowy! You’re alive!”
He crouched down beside the silver cat, tucking his tail around hers and resting his head on her shoulder. Snowypaw softened up, and she wasn’t angry–not as angry anymore. Even with those feelings pushed aside, she wanted to hiss at her father, and berate him for not being there when she was attacked. Why wasn’t he there? He promised to be watching her. Rather than feeling comforted, she felt a little lost from where she was.
“I’m so sorry, Snowypaw. I’m so sorry.” He went on. “I don’t know how I lost sight of you. I can’t even imagine what must’ve happened. This is all my fault.” Snowypaw silently agreed with him. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
Thereafter, familiar cats would step into the healer’s den, all with smiling faces. She should be used to it, but this time around, it felt weird getting all the attention.
“So she is back up!” Dawnburst meowed, coming into view. “Are you feeling better, kit?”
The young cat opened her mouth but was interrupted by a lick in her ear, the brown cat Twigfreckle. “I always knew that you’d wake up! All of us did.”
“Me and Gladetrail.” Frosteye crept in between the two cats. “We found your body while we were on an herb patrol. We took you back to camp, but you looked…” His voice stammered, like he was holding back on morbidly describing the scene.
“Your wounds were very deep on your neck and shoulders.” Gladetrail remarked. “And your body had traces of wolfish smell.”
Snowypaw’s blue eyes widened. “A wolf attacked me?”
“Maybe.” She told her. “If that’s what you saw.”
“That explains why I was smelling dog in parts of the forest.” Riverleaf’s ears twitched. “I thought it was just the Twolegs bringing with them dog-pets. But if there are wolves…”
“They could come to camp!” Twigfreckle sprang up. “What if they’re already invading our territory?”
“Maybe now that half of our land has been destroyed, they could try to overpower us.” Riverleaf mewed solemnly.
“They won’t do that.” Leader Fawnstar emerged. She had the entire clan’s attention. “Our patrols drove them to the mountains—The Arches. And they haven’t shown up since.”
“Our numbers were strong then.” Dawnburst reminded her. “The wolves must’ve heard about the fire. They could take advantage of our limitations.”
He was given a stern look from Fawnstar. “That’s only if word is spreading. And you haven’t been sharing our weakness to your out-of-clan friends, have you?”
“No!” The ghost-black tabby’s fur bristled. Fawnstar looked skeptical.
“From now on, no one leaves camp alone.” Fawnstar declared.
Riverleaf nodded. He stood upright and tall over Snowypaw’s body. “It’s for the best.”
“But.” Snowypaw went silent once all eyes focused back on her, so much they were boring holes in her. She stuttered. “Wh-What about my… I-I was supposed to…” Was it even worth it to talk about the assessment anymore?
“We’ll get to it soon. Trust me.” Riverleaf insisted, giving her a reassuring lick on the side of her ear. “But you have to understand why we can’t go forward with that now. It’s just not safe.”
Snowypaw made an irritable whine, to which Riverleaf rested his tail over hers. He still cared. She always knew he did, but why wasn’t he there to save her? Why only Gladetrail and Frosteye?
As she thought about Gladetrail, her eyes turned to look at the brown sokoke cat, and she made an inaudible gasp. The memory of her dream lingered in her mind. The figure, the warning… Was Gladetrail really to die?
“She’s had enough.” Gladetrail spoke up among the other cats. Snowypaw nearly jumped, she thought the elderly healer must’ve read her mind somehow. “All visitors—family and friends—are to leave now.”
And with that, the cats, practically the entire clan, all padded out of the den. But Riverleaf stayed for a minute to give Snowypaw one last embrace, crouching to sit his chin on her shoulder, and shortly like the rest he left the two in peace.
“Now, then.” Gladetrail spoke. “Take all the rest you need. I’ll be checking on your wounds and cleaning it for the next few moons. Let me know if there is anything I can help with.”
The brown she-cat gave the cat a kind pat on the head with her paw. Snowypaw felt less worrisome, but the thought remained in the back of her head. She laid there, watching her healer sit by herself at the other side of the den. Newleaf meant new stocks, and she was happily arranging the new herbs and sorts that she had been bringing all moon long. But her little ears were attentive, constantly fidgeting, not out of fear for an inevitable death, but out of care for others and if she senses something is wrong—care for her and for what troubles her.
There were so many things troubling Snowypaw right now, but she couldn’t say any one of those troubles. She nearly died, now, she’s hearing that their only healer is going to die. ‘Just another dream’ she tried calming herself. But again with that same excuse, it did not soothe her perplexity.
The image of the shining, immaculate cat-like flame lingered in her mind. Her eyes were sore enough, one more look at the physical presence and she could’ve gone blind herself. Still, what it told her, it was surely a warning. A warning for what? From who?
From Starclan? That must be the case. But why give it to her? A little thing?
since Archclan is canon to the Fallenclan universe, but Fallenclan is not canon to the Archclan universe, I have asked and been given full creative liberty for Snowypaw. He's the grandson of the current leader (Snowstar!) and left because he felt too much pressure to be "Snowstar's Grandson" instead of just Snowypaw. he is haunted by guilt about it, but was never exceptionally close to any of his family, so he mostly avoids them at gatherings.
This moon, Snowypaw will do it. She’s really going to do it. Snowypaw is going to push through all her wits and pass her warrior assessment. She’s 11 moons old now, her father graduated at her age, and her mother graduated a moon younger. Risking her dignity and passing any moon older was one fear she had, but the whole clan was counting on her, and half of it was dead. Messing up her final test is the last thing she intends to do, because it means also failing her ancestors.
———
The young she-cat ventured alone through the forest. Her mentor, her father, the only cat she had left as family, followed in secret to observe her skills. She can’t find a trace of his silver-gray fur anywhere no matter how hard she looked, but the pressure was heavy, she felt like she was going to sink into the ground at any given moment, and join her ancestors below.
She was always afraid of what really laid after death, a common phobia among cats that was easily calmed by knowing that you’ll live on as part of The Wood, but this knowledge was not soothing for the pale-silver she-cat. The static idea of having no body, no senses, nor any mind to think or remember or to know deeply terrified her. If she lived on in the trees, or in the grass, or in the sky, or in every rock, or in every pile of dirt, where would the part that she identifies herself as a living cat be in? Sometimes she stayed up at night thinking about it, more often ever since the fire, and sometimes they seeped into her dreams, twisting into dreaded nightmares that she couldn’t control. And always was there a humming, whispering sound in every dream she had.
They are here, they are below, they are everywhere.
You are not one of them.
Like a breeze on a hot day that leaves too quickly. Like rain that stops abruptly. Like flowers that bloom and wilt on the same day. The voice comes, alluring, and vanishes until the next night, and leaves her feeling lost. She did not belong.
It wasn’t something she should be thinking of now. She shut her eyes to clear her head, but the voice hummed in her ears like a troubling lullaby. Every cat that she’s spoken to tell her the same thing every time—It’s just a dream. All dreams are weird. Don’t worry about it.
But what if it’s something I should be worrying about?
“No, no, stop thinking about that.” She told herself. “It’s a beautiful day and you need to pass the test, you gotta get fresh-kill… I bet I smell a mouse right now.”
Every corner in the forest looked the same. It was difficult to think that every piece of floral that seeped in these corners were once cats who had family and lives. And now, they’re stripped of what made them a cat, and left in the ground. She wished she knew what each of their names were, so she could engrave them all in the dirt and hope they last there forever. Their fates seemed unfair, she wanted a better afterlife for them. Unless they’re happy that way, but how can anyone know?
———
Snowypaw followed the scent of a squirrel lingering nearby. She would stalk through the wood, her head held low and her movements quiet. She knew the basics of hunting already, but she was growing eager at the feeling of sinking her teeth into freshkill. Her fantasy was momentarily set aback, because now she was wondering if squirrels were ever as excited as her to get their paws on a morsel. She would never know what was the case, their language was unintelligible, but their minds were completely alike with the exception; One was a little thing, and the other was a squirrel who hoped it would not get caught by a larger, fiercer animal.
But this time, Snowypaw will be that large, fierce animal. No more will she be just a little thing. She’ll be the thing everyone around her wants her to be. A warrior.
She sniffed the air again, she was getting closer.
As she etched more and more to the scent, she could barely hold in her excitement. She was far from camp, she couldn’t see the entrance if she looked back, but she knew the tree markers well enough to know she hadn’t strayed too far from the territory. Just one prey is all she needs.
Her little gray ears pricked up. Rustling. The prey was hiding in those bushes. At long last! She crouched low, her haunches wiggled, her fur up on all ends. Her eyes, gorgeous and bright, were widened, the black pupils swallowing up the blue in her eyes. Her claws unsheathed, white like her fluffy paws. I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill you and bring you home. And then everyone will cheer my name. My warrior name!
Waiting for the right moment, in due time, she leaps into the bushes, mouth open wide, claws ready to grab onto little fur.
Snowypaw ended up landing rather ungracefully, with her face dug into the dirt and her paws scrambling to get back up. As soon as she did she darted around, she would absolutely die if someone she knew saw her make that stunt. But something did die. Not her, but the squirrel she caught, under her paws.
Although, she must be mistaken. Because she absolutely did not catch this animal.
The squirrel was already dead, its neck had been snapped and embedded with a large bite to it. She put her nose to the freshkill and sniffed the same delicious scent that she was picking up on earlier. That explains everything, but she was just so utterly baffled, that she became angry.
The young cat hissed out in rage. “Why!? I almost had it! I can’t take this!” She stopped her paw to the floor. “Stupid! It’s all stupid!”
Snowypaw let out a loud and irritable sigh. And then she welled there in defeat. She stared at the freshkill, her pupils had already shrunk back to a calming size. It could’ve been all hers, but now, it’s all ruined. How can she possibly bring this to camp if she didn’t even catch it herself? However, the more she smelled the prey, the more the temptation grew.
She sniffed the freshkill again, licking her lips as she imagined the taste… But something began to perplex the silver and white she-cat. Something was odd about this, certainly. This is freshkill. Her eyes scanned the little furry body, its neck was spilling red blood from the bite. A memory came to mind of her going out to the forest with Riverleaf and coming across a vicious scene. The aftermath of a hunt. A large rabbit, killed and left there by some larger predator, and the only reason it might’ve not eaten it was probably because the rabbit was sick. But the blood wasn’t oozing at all, not like how it must’ve been in the fight. The blood was dry, sticky, and blackened, covering the rabbit’s exposed belly and the grassy surface it laid on. She remembered asking if they could bring it back to camp and feed it to the elders, but Riverleaf gave the swift explanation that it could not be freshkill, not if it had been days since the kill. All sorts of flying insects were covering the dead animal, further signifying that it was no longer fresh to consume. And if it was not fresh, then it is not the cats or any animal for that matter to take; leave it. And so they did.
It wasn’t like the squirrel was caught and left there for days, it was hunted and left there probably minutes before Snowypaw entered the scene. Snowypaw inspected the size of the bite and compared it to other animals. Foxes, badgers, wolverines. The bite wasn’t very big so she concluded neither of those could be the case, but it was still a big bite from a jaw bigger than hers. It must be a cat. Her breath suddenly hitched and she stared in front of her.
Along the grassy path she was on, it was another piece of freshkill, a mouse this time. It was also spilling blood, freshly caught. She narrowed her eyes to inspect it from where she stood. She felt a sick feeling drop in her stomach. The more she looked at it, it was starting to look like a path laid by various freshkill, leading off to only Starclan knows where. Maybe that’s what this is. Whoever is here, and whatever their intentions are, it wanted to lead her somewhere. She just wasn’t sure if meeting whoever it is was worth it.
:INTERACTIVE SEGMENT:
AN INVITATION?
FOLLOW
RETREAT
Voting ended onNov 20, 2025
———
Welcome to the very first Interactive Segment of TLM! As readers, you follow along the story, but your decisions can change its flow, too. You’re in control now, choose carefully.
:Rules N Reminders:
There is no right or wrong answer. You are only going for what you believe is the ‘best option’.
Share your thinking. If you are uncertain, you can always ask for help in the replies for which option to choose, and see what others have chosen and why.
