His face, his golden eyes.

Rosepaw couldn’t stop thinking about him – about Jaypaw. Not because she had a crush, of course, but because she’d never met anyone quite like him before.

Her whole life, Rosepaw had been largely oblivious to the other clans (she’d only been a kit before, after all), but meeting Jaypaw opened up a much larger world to her that she’d hardly realized existed before. He had her wondering if all Oceanclan cats were like that – odd, a little formal, polite – or if they were as diverse as Cavernclan. If she could meet an Oceanclan cat, did that mean she could meet someone from Redwoodclan and Meadowclan, too? What about someone from outside the clans? Jaypaw proved that there was, in fact, a universe beyond Cavernclan, and it was a universe she was excited to explore even through her shyness.

It wasn’t that Rosepaw lacked friends, but rather that Jaypaw was a very different type of friend. In Cavernclan, the other apprentices were kind to her, but she knew they saw her as the drifting orphan who spent most of her time hiding in quiet corners. Yes, they talked and played, but she’d always been a little distant. She knew she had it in her to be brave, but social interaction was harder than it looked.

It had been nice to meet a cat who looked like he struggled about as much as she did, even if outsiders made her even more of a nervous wreck.

She dreamed of him, too. Silver fur under starry skies, pale pelt glimmering against the tall grass. She was racing him, though he was evidently faster, more used to running. They tumbled through a meadow, laughing with no inhibitions. Glowing particles floated around them, flying into the air as the apprentices sprinted through them.

“Rosepaw.”

The tabby’s eyes snapped open at the out-of-place but not unfamiliar voice ringing in the silence. He was there, just like all the other times.

“Hi, Sleepsong,” Rosepaw greeted groggily, sitting up in her nest. The starry cat in front of her with his one good eye was smiling warmly at her, tail curled around his legs. 

Rosepaw had been seeing Sleepsong since she’d been able to walk. Her whole life, she’d had the incredibly unique ability to see ghosts in the waking world, rather than just in dreams. It had been the primary reason she’d become a medicine cat – a warrior with ghost sight would’ve been a waste of valuable talent. They were a constant in her life, ancestors coming to check on their descendants or warriors taken before their time wandering through camp to be with their loved ones while they grieved. Most of the time, Rosepaw didn’t speak to them, letting them go about their business as she went about hers, but Sleepsong was different. The moment she’d opened her eyes, she’d seen him, smiling at her with unmatched pride. Though she wasn’t quite sure who he was, she knew they were closely connected.

Standing up, Rosepaw allowed herself a big stretch and an even bigger yawn, being careful not to bonk Sleepsong in the process. Although he technically didn’t have a corporeal form and she could’ve phased through him just fine, she’d always felt it was a little rude to do that to a Starclan cat. She could only imagine how many visiting cats got walked through while trying to enjoy their time wandering around the living world. She’d rather not be part of the problem.

“You’ve made it to your second moon of apprenticeship,” Sleepsong observed in a fatherly tone. “How has it been?”

He was standing up, turning towards the den entrance that led out into the massive cave Cavernclan called home. Rosepaw followed, falling easily into step behind him with a practiced silence. Sleepsong tended to visit at night, so Rosepaw had gotten good at not waking other cats up. “It’s been well,” she said, glancing around at the tunnels and ledges that made up Cavernclan’s camp. “I’m pretty good at it so far.”

“That’s good to hear. Would you like to go for a walk while you tell me about it?”

When Rosepaw had been a kit, walks had been pacing around camp, ranting to Sleepsong about the silly things kits worried about, but now they were different. To her quiet delight, she was now old enough to actually wander out under the stars while she talked with Sleepsong, who was like a second mentor to her. They never went far, but she appreciated getting to feel like she could talk a little louder.

“Is that even a question?”

Sleepsong smiled, laughing softly. It was a warm sound, a little rumbly but ultimately soothing. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

The trees outside loomed in the dark, but Rosepaw wasn’t afraid of them. It was hard to be scared when Sleepsong was nearby. He used to stay by her when she was a kit in the nursery, soothing her back to sleep if she ever woke up. While her denmother had certainly been there for her, Sleepsong had supported her in a way no other cat really had. He was there, and he cared, and he listened. She’d never met her father – never met either of her parents, actually – but she imagined Sleepsong was what that cat would’ve been like if she had. They even looked related, with their dusky brown tabby fur, though Sleepsong’s incorporeality and starry pelt made it a little harder to tell.

Rosepaw watched as her companion carefully charted the safest path, checking over his shoulder every few steps to make sure she was able to follow. He waited patiently for her to say anything, allowing her the room to put her thoughts together so she could speak.

“Well… I’m getting really good at finding herbs. Batcloud is really patient with me, no matter what, which I really appreciate. She taught me about lichen the other day. It’s actually really easy to collect. It comes on sticks.”

She left out any mention of the vision-seizure-thing Batcloud had experienced on the same day she’d learned that. It had been over as soon as it had started, and Batcloud was perfectly fine, and she didn’t want to unnecessarily worry Sleepsong. For the 7 moons she’d been alive, he’d always been kind of a worrywort. It was just what he did.

“It comes on sticks?”

“Yeah. Like, that’s how it grows. And then the sticks fall to the ground and you can collect them.”

“That kind of lichen?” Sleepsong inquired, using his tail to indicate the branches of a pine above them, which was covered in what looked like matted fur draped from its boughs.

Rosepaw nodded. “Yeah, that kind. The one that looks like a tangled pelt.”

Sleepsong chuckled, shooting her a proud smile. “You’re learning a lot. I’m happy for you,” he told her, turning a little ways off the path. “This way. I found a nice spot where we can look at the stars if you’d like.”

“Aren’t you technically always looking at the stars?”

“I’m not sure being a dead cat counts, but I guess you could say that.”

Rosepaw snorted. “Okay, so I’m right.”

“No, but you’re not wrong either.”

They broke from underneath the ferns into a little clearing with the moon beaming down on them, making Sleepsong’s body glitter almost dazzlingly as he strode to the center and sat down, gesturing with his tail for Rosepaw to come join him. When she did, she heard him purring softly, wrapping his tail around the both of them.

“You’ve grown up so fast. It feels like only yesterday, you were as small as a mouse.”

Rosepaw raised an eyebrow. It went without saying that it was hard for her to imagine herself as the size of a tiny prey animal. “Really? A kitten is that small?” she asked incredulously, squinting at him. “There’s no way. I’m calling bullshit!”

Sleepsong only laughed, grinning at her. “I promise I’m not lying, a newborn kitten really is that small, although they’re definitely heavier.”

Absolutely mind-boggling.

“They’re tiny…” Rosepaw found herself murmuring, hit with the realization that she was once that small. She’d seen a few newborn kittens before – a few queens had given birth while she was still in the nursery – but she’d never really made the connection between how little they were and the fact that she used to be one of them, too. Once upon a time, she had been a tiny, squirming little bean shape with closed eyes and ears and a stubby tail. The fact felt almost unreal to her.

Sleepsong, however, didn’t seem to notice. “Well, yes. They have to be small if they’re going to come out of another cat. We’re not exactly large.”

Rosepaw didn’t have a response to that, so she just nodded and folded herself into a loaf shape, gazing up at the milky way. The silver color made her mind drift back to Jaypaw, with his shiny fur.

“… I made a friend recently.”

“You did?” Sleepsong inquired, curling his tail around his paws and looking at her with encouraging curiosity. “What are they like?”

“His name is Jaypaw. I met him at the border when he accidentally kicked a rock at me. He’s from Oceanclan. He asked me about my roses and I asked him about what it’s like to live someplace with less trees.”

“… Oceanclan?”

“Yeah. He said living there was nice.”

Sleepsong frowned, brow furrowing. “And you consider him a friend?”

“Okay, well, more like a friendly acquaintance, but you know what I mean.”

The apparition’s expression was soft but grim. “Rosepaw, I don’t mean to control your life or relationships, but you shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

The tabby molly felt a little spike of adolescent rebellion run through her. “I’m not a kit anymore, Sleepsong,” she protested. “He’s another apprentice anyways, so it’s not like I’m unsafe.”

“Rosepaw, sometimes even apprentices can be capable of being dangerous. I’m not saying that he specifically is going to hurt you, but I am saying that there are dangers in this world you might not be aware of, and that I can’t protect you from.”

Rosepaw snorted. “Yeah?” She challenged. “Like what?”

Her companion went silent for a moment, expression indicating a struggle with his words. At last, he took a deep breath in and spoke, ears tilted back in worry.

“That’s the issue, Rosepaw. I don’t really know what it is, but I know that something dangerous is coming, and it’s not something one cat can change.”

She remembered. She remembered Batcloud’s seizure. Batcloud had said it was a vision… and Rosepaw was smart enough to guess that whatever was in that vision was probably connected to this conversation.

He was serious. The expression on his face told her so.

“… Alright,” the young cat started, any rebellion carried away like smoke in the wind. “What do I do, then?”

There wasn’t any keeping the tremble from her voice. Sleepsong had delivered warnings to her before – ‘avoid that corner of the den and tell a warrior, there’s a venomous spider’ and ‘that mushroom will kill you, tell the leader so they can get rid of it,’ among other things – and he was always right. He always used that same tone and that same face, and he always had her take the steps to make sure it couldn’t hurt her… or anyone else for that matter.

“Don’t talk to strangers,” Sleepsong advised softly, looking utterly relieved that she was taking him seriously. The starry scar where one of his eyes should’ve been twinkled softly in the dark. “Don’t communicate with anyone outside the clan unless it’s absolutely necessary. Listen to your intuition, no matter what.”

“… Alright, I will.”

“Do you promise? I want you to promise me, Rosepaw.”

A deep breath. She sat up, shifting to look him in the eyes like she had looked at Batcloud during her Apprentice Ceremony. “I promise,” she stated with soft conviction. “I’m going to be careful.”

With what looked like relieved tears glittering in his remaining eye, Sleepsong pressed his nose and brow affectionately against hers.