The days following were interesting.

As days went by, he found that cats were willing to talk to him, and some even were willing to help him. Some offered prey whereas others just stopped by when they were able to and tried to hold a conversation. That never worked because he'd always just sit there, and he would worry about what he was to say, and they would end up leaving, and he'd be alone again.

But he supposed that the thought was nice. It was nice of them to try harder to get to know him — particularly, Nova, who he found often dropped by to talk to him about the different rogues in the group. The slim and beautiful silver she-cat was named Aurelian, and she had been one of the ones to kill Cougarstar.

Milo was the tom with the sooty fur, and Dandelion was the sandy-pelted she-cat. The large white tom with large and patchy leopard markings was Nimbus, and he was Nova's sister. That hadn't been too much of a surprise to him. They looked pretty similar, at least Adderheart thought so.

August was the slim ginger tabby, Maya was creamy with off-white patches and Wasari's trainer, Lyra was the she-cat with the ivory-gray pelt alongside darker tabby stripes — she trained Salem. And of course, despite all the other cats, Nova had given him quite the description of Faevyli and Emesan.

There was nothing inherently wrong with either of them. They were polite, respected cats and had strong opinions. Faevyli, particularly, had trained Emesan never to step down and never to be repressed; Nova supposed this was because Faevyli's sister was a Clan cat.

"Juniperflight or something," she had said nonchalantly. Yet immediately, Adderheart's skull had lifted as he peered over to her. "Do you know that name?" Of course, that had been the follow-up.

"She— she was my mentor," he explained, "and died at a fight near the border."

"Really? She didn't die from that, as far as I was aware," Nova commented, a frown twisting itself across her features. "She had been pregnant with a third litter, and we think it was with some tom named Fox. He wasn't really associated with our group but everyone thought he was, so Juniperflight went out to go and attack him."

Confusion had so quickly risen that Adderheart had nearly missed the words she had said afterward.

"She found him and he'd been upset that she didn't have any of their kits. She went to attack him, yet he killed her first and managed to kill her entire litter, too. We think she had two others with him and kept getting pulled back because he was like Cougarstar."

"Marigoldcry, Fluffyflame, Dustshade, and Streamfang," he mewed in a quieter tone, "those were her— other litters. As far... as far as I know. Juniperflight was my mentor."

So that day he had learned something he'd believed for so long was a lie, and such was now common. It seemed as though the group harbored all sorts of secrets that were hard to see from the perspective of a SageClanner, and Nova was willing to share a lot of them with him.

Nesro, a broad-shouldered and long-limbed dark brown tom with white spiraling marks, was the father of a litter in SageClan. The rogue considered himself more of a fluid loner, Nova had explained, in that he thought he could come and go whenever he wanted while still providing for the group. It was a nice exchange, the she-cat supposed.

Somehow, Adderheart managed to figure out that if nobody knew the litter, it had to have been Willowdapple's. He had seen the tom around camp and it was an easy connection to the two now-deceased kits. If nobody knew the kits or the mother, and all were dead now — this was an upsetting fact to say aloud — then that meant the kits were too new, and Willowdapple's litter had definitely been new.

He also learned that several cats had died from the rogue's group due to the battle. Boulder, a broad and tall dark gray tom, had been fighting for far too long before he collapsed and was unable to get back up again. Dot, a white on black dotted tom, had suffered the same fate, and a sleek dark gray tabby named Colin had been trapped by several SageClanners with no rogue to help.

In return, he offered to her that he knew that Pantherleap was gone. And that Willowdapple and her kits were. He didn't know any of the other cats that had died, but it didn't matter. Tears flowed quickly and that conversation was over instantly. Nova apologized and stood up, quickly skittering off as he simply sat alone in his little 'den'.

That had been the day before, though.

Now he was settled against his home, deciding that being inside of it all the time would only ruin its purpose. Besides, he probably needed the moss and sticks above changed out. The sky above him was dark and cloudy, and he couldn't understand why it wasn't snowing. It felt so cold like someone was taking away pieces of his fur.

Perhaps that was due to his large jump in physical health, though. Walking was still an issue, as his paw still posed problems as it had before. Yet he could now move around easier, and speaking was growing a little easier. Everything still seemed difficult in general... but it was growing easier.

And as the time skipped on and on, deep within him a fear grew; that he was forgetting Pantherleap. That everyone would forget Pantherleap. Nobody would remember him because he was simply another dead cat that was killed in the battle, and what if Bearstar was just as bad as Cougarstar was?

He didn't want to assume anything, but he probably was. If the tom was just going to follow in his father's pawsteps, then he would never go back— that was another thing. Did he want to go back? Memories of soft and sweet things were tied to the territory, not the camp. His mate's memories, though, were tied to the camp.

Adderheart knew that Pantherleap probably wanted him to be happy. But Adderheart knew that he could only be happy with Pantherleap; without him, he was just alone.

Tears pricked fresh at the edges of his gaze and he looked away, harshly thumping his tail against the ground a few times as he exhaled. Peering to the ground, he stared at it, as though he was hoping it would swallow him up if he kept on looking.

Around him, the sharp wind of leaf-bare seemed to swirl harsher and harsher, and as though someone had noticed his desolate look, a she-cat strolled up with a mouse clamped within her jaws.

"Adderheart?" It was the tall and slim silver tabby — Aurelian. Her deep blue eyes were sparking with something like concern. "Are you alright?"

He nodded mutely and reached for the mouse she offered. Yet, her paw flashed out and she quickly inched the mouse away from him. "What? I thought—"

She cut him off. "How are your injuries? Do you need more herbs?"

"No," he answered. "I'm feeling better."

"Physically?" The she-cat guessed, and he looked to the ground. She knows. I don't have to lie. She was there when it happened, and she understands. It's okay to tell the truth.

A surge of anger overcame him at such a thought, briefly subsiding as he peered to her soft gaze. Panic seemed to spark and the anger faded overall, worry and anxieties easily transferring to uncontrollable panic. What if she was just being nice because she wanted to get rid of him?

The sooner that he was healed, the sooner that the group could get rid of him. Maybe that was what Aurelian wanted. Maybe she didn't like him at all and was only helping him with his injuries because she felt bad because of Pantherleap, or because that was what Tawn had demanded to occur. Or because Nova pushed her to do so.

Maybe that was what it was for all of them. Except for Nova and Tawn. Maybe. But why would they demand him to stay if they all were faking? That didn't make sense. Yet the thought stuck, like glue to a wall, and he shifted uncomfortably. Aurelian peered at him and she lifted a paw to lightly nudge at his own, and he jolted out of his thoughts.

"Hello?" She offered. "Are you alright? I can leave you alone if you want."

"I'm fine," he lied, and it was clear that she could tell.

"Do you want me to stay?" The slim silver she-cat asked, finally offering the mouse forward. He snatched it up and quickly drew it close to his figure using his good paw, taking a bite. This allowed him more time to think; more time to panic.

Do I want her to stay? The immediate answer was no because he wanted to be alone. But the secondary answer was yes because he knew that she would talk and he would be able to just think about things while she went on. He continued to chew the bite of mouse as slow as he could.

But if she stayed, then there was a chance she would eventually have other cats coming up to her. Which, in turn, meant more talking with others. And that was something he didn't want at all. I just want to be alone. But not necessarily alone without her.

That was weird. No, I don't want to be alone with a she-cat. Brief panic spiraled and he swallowed his bite, nervously peering down to his paws. The sight of his injured one caused him quickly to look up and he shifted, and the she-cat noticed this.

She lifted a paw and lightly laid it atop his injured one, as though to block his vision from seeing it.

But he jerked backward, paw lifting out of the way of her paw. "I don't l-like you," he stuttered bluntly. Obviously she doesn't. She was trying to help! What are you doing?

"What?" The silver she-cat questioned, peering to him with her eyes swiftly darkening. Worry spiraled within him, and he looked at her with round eyes before she realized aloud, "oh, you mean— no, I don't either. I know you loved Pantherleap, it's okay. You're alright."

Relief quickly swarmed him, though only because it sounded to him like her voice had morphed into Pantherleap's; the words he had said so many times to the tom to calm him down seemed to echo and bounce around within his skull whenever he was upset.

And now that she was saying it aloud, it seemed as though she had turned into him. Yet, as he peered up, a small spark of worry filled him — the silver tabby clearly wasn't Pantherleap. But it didn't matter, and she simply dipped her tabby-marked skull politely to him.

"It's alright if you want to be alone," she offered, "I can leave."

Taking another impulsive bite of the prey beneath him, he chewed harshly as though it would help him decide. Of course, it didn't, and his mind just took a similar path, looping endlessly.

"I don't care," he answered, sniffling as though he had been recovering from crying.

"I'll leave you be, then," she mewed softly before rising to her paws, dipping her head to him once more. "Enjoy your meal. If you need me, just call. I'll be around."

He nodded a little. "Thanks."

"Sure," she offered once more, a small smile rising. "See you around."

The slim silver tabby waved goodbye with her tail before turning and padding off. She headed for the den where most of the warrior slept — yet they weren't exactly warriors. To him, warriors meant something different. They weren't what they used to be.

He was not a warrior himself. Unsurprisingly, he was as weak as a kit. Usually coddled in the nursery, now tossed out into the real, horrible world, he was struggling and he knew that there was nothing he could do to go back to the nursery. Now he was tossed and whipped around in the forest of misery that he was trapped in.

The nursery was warm and soft, with Pantherleap standing guard at the entrance to welcome him in. But he couldn't go in. He was stuck outside. He could almost grasp and see the inside of where Pantherleap was settled, waiting for him to arrive... and he wanted to make the leap to join him. Yet, he couldn't.

Taking another swift bite of the prey at his paws, he shifted and his tail curled around his injured paw as though to protect it. He didn't want to hurt himself and he didn't want to disappear but he did want to go and see Pantherleap. He couldn't have both, leaving him in a state where he was furious at himself for not dying sooner.

Pawsteps interrupted his train of thought.

He peered upward with his dark gray eyes dark and haunted, as though memories constantly swirled behind them, still chewing a small portion of the mouse. A slim leopard-spotted she-cat approached with a polite expression written on her features.

"Hi, Adderheart," she greeted.

"Hi," he offered in response.

Silence settled between the two as Nova sat down, wrapping her tail over her paws as she swept the mouse toward herself with an outstretched paw. She tipped her skull to him and he nodded mutely, looking down at the ground. The she-cat took a bite before offering it back to him, whereupon he shook his head.

"No?" She prompted, "aren't you hungry?"

Sort of, he thought, but he answered, "Not really."

Nova seemed to detect the lie and she peered to him. "Are you alright? Is there something I can do to help you? Do you want a name change or something like that?"

He hadn't even thought of that. I can get my name changed? To what?... would I want it changed? What if Pantherleap wouldn't recognize me? A sharp stone knocked into his skull and he frowned heavily, trying to draw his attention away from the train of thought his mind tried to barrel itself down. His ears flattened yet Nova nudged him.

The pale tom peered over to her and she politely tipped her skull, a questioning look glimmering within her eyes. In terms of relationships, she was similar to him. They both had a mate who was related to Cougarstar, and they were their mates. Adderheart tried to ignore the tears gathering within his gaze. Had a mate. Not anymore.

"I know you didn't mean to," she mewed quietly, and Adderheart could almost hear Pantherleap saying the same thing. "It's not your fault."

"I know," he said softly, looking at the ground before lifting his good paw and rubbing harshly at his dark gray eyes. As he put his paw back down onto the ground, he found it damp and so he shivered.

"So then it's fine for you to be upset," she offered, looking to him.

Somehow, that didn't make sense. He was allowed to know it wasn't his fault even though he still blamed himself and thought it was, in some way, his fault... yet he couldn't be upset about it. Her soft gaze didn't bother him. He knew that she liked Tawn. But everyone else's soft gazes did bother him. So he was just being bothersome, dumb, overreacting when there was no reason to.

He shifted uncomfortably and he looked down to his paw, as though he hoped it would suddenly implode and take him with it. Maybe then it would be easier. Maybe then he would be able to understand why he didn't want to be anywhere. It was alright with the rogues. But it would always be better with Pantherleap. And I can't have him.

Sniffling as a fresh wave of tears appeared in his gaze, he watched as Nova peered to the ground.

"I'm sorry," she stated, "I know you loved him, and I'm sorry he's gone."

The tom looked back down to his paws. He waited for the 'but you have to move on' or consequential 'but you can't stay stuck on him forever' yet it never came. That was all Nova said. She said nothing more, only looked at the ground and stayed silent.

Eventually, he grew uncomfortable with the silence, as with his blurring eyes it was growing harder to focus on his paws beneath him. It was as though the silence simply took up all the room that he needed to breathe and to flourish. It was as though the silence was making everything worse and escalating the tears, now seeming to trickle down his expression.

"It's okay to cry," Nova's gentle words once more split the silence. He peered at her and lifted a paw, harshly rubbing his gaze. "No, no, don't," she quickly said, lifting her own paw to swat his away from his eyes. "Don't blind yourself. It's alright to be upset. You don't have to be happy."

"I-I know," he hiccuped, sniffling. "My brain's— brain's just dumb."

It all boiled down to that in the end, anyways. It was his fault because his brain was dumb and didn't work right. Everyone else's could do the right things and deal with bad situations correctly. But his just freaked out, made him breathe way too fast, and overall did not work.

And so, as per usual, the blame fell back upon the tom, even if he didn't know it was happening. He blamed himself for Pantherleap's death, and he blamed himself for getting injured, and he blamed himself for not having helped Willowdapple or her kits, and he blamed himself for any sort of thing that went wrong. Just like always.

Because the one cat who could convince him otherwise was gone.