The pure white figure was bright and angelic as it came forward. Brinepaw could not discern who it was, but he didn't really care. His mind was still blank.

          It was a she-cat. She went to stand over him. Brinepaw watched her slowly come into focus. She looked like a cloud. Her fur was soft and tufty, like wisps of creamy fog. Brinepaw wanted to touch her white coat and feel what it was like on his paws. He tried to reach out, but pain jolted through his leg and he let it fall back to the earth. But she was so beautiful, and something about her being there calmed him. He wanted to see her... truly see her. There was an extended silence as he waited patiently for the trauma to fade and his full vision to be restored. When at last it was, he could see the definition of each of her individual white hairs. His gaze trailed up to her face, and he was surprised to find that her eyes cut through him like sharp blue ice.

          "Milkpaw!"

          All of Brinepaw's hope crumbled at once. He could feel anger surging up from someplace deep inside him. He turned away, refusing to look at the she-cat.

          Milkpaw bent down and brought her face closer to his. "Brinepaw, are you okay?"

          The words disgusted him, though he wasn't sure why. Brinepaw's stomach clenched and he began to feel sick. Suddenly, he convulsed and retched onto the dark brown dirt. A thin stream of vomit poured out of his mouth and its sour smell populated the space around them.

           Milkpaw gasped and laid her tail on Brinepaw's spine, "You're sick. Don't move. Just take the time you need to feel better."

          Part of Brinepaw wanted to scream at her to leave, to just shut up and go away... but he didn't have the strength. So he ignored her as another cascade of pinkish vomit forced its way up his throat and fell onto the forest floor.

          He felt her tail stroke the length his back. He guessed the gesture was meant to soothe him, but it only made him tense up. He bunched up all his muscles as he lay there, terrified. Milkpaw was comforting him with little phrases of encouragement, but he couldn't decipher them. The more he tried to figure out what she was saying, the more muddled her speech seemed to become. He gave up trying and prayed for her to take her tail off his back.

          Thankfully, she raised her tail and rounded on him. "I'm going to go get some cobwebs," she whispered, "Stay here."

          It's not like I can really go anywhere, Brinepaw thought bitterly.

          The next few minutes felt surreal. Brinepaw's eyes followed Milkpaw as she traveled around the clearing. From far away, she looked like a sphere of white smoke. Brinepaw pretended that she was just a ball of smoke, and it made him feel a little bit better. She disappeared for a while into the forest, and suddenly panic edged its way into Brinepaw's body. He hated himself for it, but he anxiously awaited her return.

          What if she leaves me here?

          But despite his fears, Milkpaw returned just a few moments later. She was carrying a huge mass of cobwebs. "Okay," she purred, setting them down when she got to him, "Where should I start?"

          Brinepaw just stared at her.

          Milkpaw stared back. When he still didn't reply, she grunted with some annoyance and began tending to his underbelly. She pressed the sticky webs into his wounds very gently, but Brinepaw winced in pain. "Sorry," murmured Milkpaw, "I'm doing the best I can."

          "Can't you just go get my sister?" Brinepaw asked.

          "I will," Milkpaw assured him, "But I need to make sure you're alright first."

          Brinepaw groaned and pressed his face into the dusty earth. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Fawnpaw with her white-dappled fur and lively green eyes.

          After what seemed like forever, Milkpaw said, "Done!" and backed away proudly.

          Brinepaw opened his eyes again and saw that he wasn't bleeding nearly as much. She'd done a good job. But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to tell her. So he just nodded and sighed.

          Milkpaw was observing him closely. Her sea blue eyes brimmed with curiosity. "So... what exactly happened?"

          "What do you mean?" Brinepaw responded hesitantly, narrowing his eyes a little.

          The snowy apprentice took a step forward and looked down upon him. "Between you and Fleetwater. What happened?"

          He was rather taken aback, and he could feel his anger surfacing again. "Nothing happened. We just don't get along," he answered vaguely.

          By the way she looked at him, Brinepaw could tell that Milkpaw didn't believe a word he was saying. She seemed confused. But like always, she was also ceaselessly interested in him. She wanted to know who he was. Brinepaw became lost in thought as he watched Milkpaw's long fur ripple in a passing wind. How strange it was to have somebody so invested in his story.

          Something occurred to him. "How long were you watching us, exactly?"

          "I followed you out of camp," mewed Milkpaw, but she immediately regretted it. Her face froze with shame.

          Brinepaw was stung. "So... you saw everything."

          Milkpaw looked upset now.

          Brinepaw felt like something inside him had shattered. His voice broke as he said, "Why didn't you help me?"

          "I couldn't."

          "Why not?"

          "Because Fleetwater is way stronger than me!" Milkpaw cried. She looked scared.

          "Together, we could have beat him."

          Milkpaw set her jaw. Her gaze was cold. "You're wrong," she said.

          Milkpaw's typical, unsettling demeanor had resumed. She seemed to believe she'd regained control of her situation. But Brinepaw saw through her lies. He could feel a revelation speeding towards him at alarming speed. What had he uncovered?

          He pushed a little further. "It's obvious that you and me could have beat him, Milkpaw. So, if you knew that, why did you hide in the shadows and watch my own father nearly tear me apart?"

          His voice was ragged with agony, and he knew he should stay quiet and rest. But he was so close. Milkpaw gave him a look of resentment.

          "Tell me, Milkpaw. Why didn't you help me when you had the chance?"

          Milkpaw's eyes were suddenly shining with tears. "Whatever you think of me, Brinepaw, you're wrong. I'm not a bad cat. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm–"

          Her words devolved into hysteria and she began to hyperventilate. Brinepaw felt no pity. It was a good impersonation of hysteria, he decided, but not the real thing. No, this was an emotion she'd studied for moons. And now she replicated it here, when she needed it most.

          Slowly, her breathing relaxed. She stood with her forelegs splayed apart in another convincing imitation of what it looks like to be distressed. She bowed her head and flattened her velvety white ears to her head. "I'm sorry, Brinepaw. I was just so afraid. I was so, so afraid."

          Brinepaw realized it was growing dark. The sun was completely gone. The trees overhead crept inwards, casting long shadows that fell across the ground and over Milkpaw's face. The sky was painted with a sinister shade of lavender and everything seemed to be swathed in a layer of night.

          They'd been there almost the entire day. Brinepaw took a deep breath.

          "Just go away, Milkpaw. I won't hold anything against you if you just go away now. Thank you for bringing me these cobwebs. And thank you for essentially saving my life. I am grateful to you. But you're bad for me, Milkpaw. I'm not sure what you think this is between us, but all it's ever done is cause me problems."

          "No!" Milkpaw protested. Her eyes flitted to the ground. "No," she repeated more softly, "I don't think you understand. I'm in love with you, Brinepaw."

          It felt as if all the air had been knocked from his lungs. Brinepaw gaped at her as his head began to spin. Love? Why was she talking about love all of a sudden? Hadn't it been just a crush? They were so young, after all. Surely she was kidding when she said love. Brinepaw wasn't even sure he knew what love was. What right did Milkpaw have to talk to him about love?

          He was almost convinced she was telling the truth. But then he took one last glance at her eyes.

          There was something about them that disturbed him still. There was no depth to her eyes. There was no complexity. Even now, with all this talk of love, her emotions seemed fake, like she'd stolen them from someone else.

          And there was so much fascination in those eyes.

          So that's what it was! It came to him like a feather on the breeze. Milkpaw wasn't in love with him. She didn't care about him. She wasn't interested in what he had to say or what he was thinking. She was in love with the idea of him. She was in love with his pain.

          Brinepaw had always loathed that fascination. Now he understood why. To her, he was a mystery just waiting to be unraveled. He was beautifully vulnerable. He was the broken image of a cat that could've, in another lifetime, been happy. There was something about his struggle to survive that captivated her. There was something about the way he wanted to die that made her burst with joy. Because maybe... maybe she could be the one to fix him. Or maybe not. It didn't really matter.

          Brinepaw smirked a little. He'd figured it out. He picked up his head and held her unnerving gaze. "Don't make a fool of yourself, Milkpaw," he said with a wild grin, "I know who you are."

          Milkpaw opened her mouth to speak.

          But Brinepaw was gone before she could make a sound. He pushed himself to his feet and padded away into the darkening tree line. His body throbbed. Bits of bloody cobweb fell from his sides and splatted onto the ground. But he kept moving. He kept going. He needed to get away.

           His paws carried him for a long time before Brinepaw remembered what he was doing. He regained awareness and noticed that there was a large tree ahead of him. It was the Saltwater Elm. He approached the elm tree with caution. There must be a reason I am here, he thought. But when he tried to think of what had brought him there he could only remember his mind being completely and utterly blank.

          He leaned against the sturdy trunk and watched the stars begin to appear in the sky. They dotted the black expanse like a sprinkling of fresh snow. Brinepaw panted, feeling the support of the hard wood against his aching body. He sighed and allowed his eyes to close. The sound of crickets rose up all around him. He felt connected to StarClan, somehow, underneath the open sky. Underneath the winding branches of the Saltwater Elm and surrounded by the coming night, he felt serene. Protected. Indeed, he felt that StarClan was right there with him.

          And maybe they were. After all, he'd survived Fleetwater's attack. And he'd escaped Milkpaw. He'd been surprised that she hadn't followed him, but he was thankful for it, too. He thought of her striking blue eyes and found that they had no effect on him. He smiled to himself. She no longer frightened him. 

          It was a beautiful moment. Brinepaw experienced the same blissful feeling that he'd had in the forest. He could feel his heart opening, like a butterfly spreading its wings. He looked down at his bleeding chest and stomach, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. He was feeling better now. He would live; that was all that mattered. He would live.

          He wouldn't go back to camp that night, Brinepaw decided. He knew that Fleetwater would be shocked to see him, and Brinepaw wasn't ready to deal with him yet. I will spend the night here, underneath the careful watch of the Saltwater Elm. 

          As he lay down, he truly felt as though the tree were watching him. He snuggled up to its trunk and did his best to get comfortable.

          It was unbelievable clear. Above him, countless stars were visible, and the land was so open that the sky stretched on forever in all directions. Brinepaw felt peaceful. He kept his gaze trained on the stars for a long time. That is, until he noticed the moon over the faraway water.

          The ocean was distant, but Brinepaw could just make it out. And he could hear the waves. They filled him with an unexpected longing for home.

          And the moon was just a tiny sliver in the great spread of black. It was a new moon, just beginning the waxing cycle that would eventually bring the two clans together for their next full moon gathering. Brinepaw hoped that by then, the conflict between TideClan and WaveClan would be resolved.

          This past moon had been the strangest experience of his life, and yet Brinepaw felt that it had invigorated him with a new sense of purpose. He wanted the two clans to get along. He wanted to continue with his training. He wanted to become a warrior.

          Brinepaw began to cry underneath the Saltwater Elm. He was so relieved. So relieved that life finally had meaning.

          A weak light appeared above him. Brinepaw glanced up.

          Ghost was sitting on a branch of the tree. He blinked fondly at Brinepaw.

          Brinepaw sniffed and got to his paws, "Ghost!"

          "Home," Ghost said to him, "This is your home."

          Brinepaw recalled the last time he'd heard those words. It had been on his way back from his training session with Bluepaw. Brinepaw's fur stood on end, "That was you!" he breathed, "You've been watching me since before I fell from the cliff!"

          Ghost nodded in confirmation.

          "But why?" questioned Brinepaw. 

          The translucent tom looked frustrated by something. He shook his head sadly, "I don't know."

          "You must know!"

          "I don't know," Ghost insisted, "Believe me, I wish I did. I wish I could help you, Brinepaw. And I'm... I'm trying so hard."

          "Why? Why do you care so much?" Brinepaw's eyes were flooded with tears again.

          When Ghost had no answer, Brinepaw broke down into choked sobs. He held his face in the grass with his forepaws and thought about how happy he was and how confused he was and how he never would have felt this way if he'd died after jumping from the cliff. He thought about the finality of death and the gift of being alive.

          Ghost floated down from the tree and embraced Brinepaw.

          It was an odd feeling, to be hugged by a spirit. But Brinepaw held him close and didn't let go.

          Brinepaw's sobs faded to snoring and soon he was asleep.