{ we're all a step from madness } • DNP

[Micki.]

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username: Micki.

cat's name: Emberglow

↪ previously Shadowkit, Shadowpaw and Shadowpelt
gender: tom
age: 48 moons
clan: Bearclan

↪ previously a member of Falconclan (a NPC in my clan stories)
↪ currently not a member of Bearclan, just near / on their territory
rank: rogue

↪ previously a warrior (in Falconclan)
x

[Micki.]

x
mew. mew.

The soft, tiny meow of an equally small kit broke the silence of the nursery once more.

Two cats were huddled in the back with the newest additions to the clan - three small little mollies with patchy black and orange fur. A calico she-cat licked her little mollies, tears welling in her big, green eyes. 'Three. Three little mollies,' she thought, bursting with pride, as she groomed each little kit with care. She couldn't stop grooming them, actually, like some sort of impulse she couldn't get rid of. "Holl-Hollynose," her mate sniffled, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. Hollynose beamed up at him, a gentle smile resting on her pretty face. "Holly, we have mollies. Three, the large tom nodded as if to confirm he had counted right, "Three little mollies, and they're all as beautiful as their mother."

"Flattery," Hollyleaf purred, nestling her head against the dark tom's chest for a moment. It wasn't long before the tender moment was being interrupted, however, by the medicine cat - a gruff, old tom by the name of Crowfoot.

His voice was rough and cracked, "Hollynose, Darkstripe." He made some sort of gesture, just a little nod of his head, but the mates instantly knew what he meant - Crowfoot wanted them to move aside so he could inspect the kittens, mostly to make sure they were healthy, but also to check for any signs of a shadow. Hollynose stood up and stepped aside immediately, but Darkstripe was more unwilling. The medicine cat advanced anyways, causing the larger tom to step in front of him with a hiss, "They're healthy, and there are no shadows here - leave us be Crowfoot."

"Tsk, tsk. I thought I taught you better than that, Darkstripe," His response garnered another hiss, but Hollynose gently tugged at the tom's tail to get him to step back. Crowfoot looked at her approvingly, before going about his duty.

After quite a while of silence, Hollynose spoke up, "Is there something wrong, Crowfoot? Aren't they healthy? They look perfect to me."

"There's nothing wron-"

Darkstripe was cut off by the other tom, "Healthy? Yes. Perfect? Far from it."

Another impatient hiss from Darkstripe.

Crowfoot chuckled at the larger tom's response, but it sounded more threatening than any laugh the other two cats had ever heard. The medicine cat flattened his ears before he finally continued, "This kit is a tom, and he must be dealt with. His shadow will destroy the entire clan." Hollynose gasped, eyes filling with tears. Darkstripe let out a low, rumbly hiss - more growl than hiss, really, "A shadow? Impossible!"

"These kits are supposed to be mollies, Darkstripe. Any tom with these colors has a shadow, and we all know it." Crowfoot's ears stayed pinned to his head as he continued, "He must be dealt with." The tom began to lower his head to snap up the kit in question, but Darkstripe hissed viciously and charged him before he was able to. Crowfoot backed away, grumbling, but stayed in place and determined to remove the kit.

Darkstripe bared his teeth at the other tom, "OUT, NOW!"

---

Over the next few weeks, Darkstripe stayed by the kits every second of every day. It had been hard enough to convince Hollynose that their kit was worth saving. But the rest of the clan? They were unconvinced.

Crowfoot lurked near the nursery constantly, waiting for an opportunity to snatch the kit and take him away. Other queens refused to stay in the same place as the kit and refused to even consider letting their own kits interact with him. He was evil, and the clan was convinced of it.

And today, Crowfoot was trying particularly hard to get Darkstripe to see the kit in the same way, "Why let him live? He'll only burden the rest of the clan. The ancestors saw fit to curse him with a shadow - it means he will never have kits, never find love. What would you be without the love of Hollynose?" His words only triggered another hiss from Darkstripe, who was nestled closely to the small kit. Crowfoot sighed, exasperated. "Have you even named the abomination? What name have you given the evil little thing?" He spat, pacing the outside of the nursery.

"Shadowkit," Hollynose replied, provoking a disapproving look from her mate. The tom had been thoroughly against the offensive name, but she would have it no other way. In truth, Darkstripe wasn't sure his mate even cared about little Shadowkit. His own mother thought he was a burden.

Crowfoot chuckled, sending a shiver down the other cats' spines, "Even little Hollynose thinks he's evil, then." The larger tom opened his mouth to protest, but Crowfoot began to walk away.

He called behind his shoulder, a sly smile across his face, "What a poor, cursed wretch, forever loved by no one but his stubborn father."

---

Several moons later, Shadowkit was still unaccepted by the clan. Worse, he was unloved by his own siblings. His sisters spat awful names at him, right alongside the other kits. He was evil, vile, and unworthy of life. That's what everyone said, everyone but his father. Darkstripe was the little kit's only friend in this world and the only cat who was unafraid of him. Strange things did happen around him, afterall. Strange things that, according to the other cats, were his fault. He was Falconclan's curse, and they wouldn't let him forget it.

Scarce prey? Shadowkit's fault.

Harsh weather? Shadowkit's fault.

Sick cats? Shadowkit's fault.

And so, the small kit stayed away from the others as much as possible, preferring instead to hide himself away in the woods. It was a lonely kithood, but he learned to tolerate it as best he could.
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[Micki.]

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Shadowpelt slinked into camp with a dead weasel clasped tightly in his jaw, dropped it in the fresh-kill pile and practically ran away. The others would refuse to eat anything he caught if they knew that he was the one who had caught it.

Even during leaf-bare when prey was scarce, they would prefer to go hungry rather than eat something caught by Shadowpelt. It had been like that for as long as he could remember - the others avoiding anything he had even touched. He was all but banished from the clan, living in a small den just outside their camp on his own and hunting by himself. They simply wanted nothing to do with him, despite his best intentions and desperate attempts to prove himself.

WHOOSH, PLONK.

"Ow," Shadowpelt mumbled, the force of something hitting the back of his head. 'The weasel,' He thought, turning to see who had thrown it, not that it mattered much. His ears pricked up, though, when he saw who it had been. Fireleaf. The ginger tom was the only cat in the clan that Shadowpelt could think of who had never harbored any ill will towards him. In fact, sometimes the large, dark tom actually considered Fireleaf a friend. He stood there, waiting to see what the other tom would do.

Fireleaf grinned from afar, "You know they won't eat that. Save it for yourself - you're starting to look a little thin." His green eyes seemed to have a mischevious twinkle all the time, something that most of the clan mollies took note of with dreamy excitement. His fur was a brilliant, bright ginger, and it could nearly blind a cat when the greenleaf sunlight bounced off of it. "I eat enough to get by," the dark tortie tom mumbled to the other, "Put it back in the pile before someone sees that I've been near it. There are plenty of cats that need it more than I do."

The tom shook his head, flicking Shadowpelt with his ginger tail, "You're far too kind for any of them. They don't deserve you."

And with that, he was off, leaving the darker tom to stand in the middle of camp, blushing furiously. He tried to call out to Fireleaf, some witty response, but all that escaped his mouth were bizarre stuttering sounds. Had he heard that right? Had he really said that Shadowpelt, of all cats, was worthy of deserving? 'No,' the large tom thought, 'He must have been messing with me. I'm not worthy of anything.'

Shadowpelt picked up the weasel and returned it to the fresh-kill pile and slinked back out of camp before anyone else could notice him.

---

The next morning, sunlight streaming in from the small, makeshift den hit Shadowpelt's face and woke him. He let out a wide yawn and stretched for quite a while before slipping outside. His back was warmed by the feeling of the greenleaf sun - such a small thing, but it made a feeling of contentment wash over the tom. He began to take a step. Shadowpelt was intending to go hunting once more, as it was the only skill he seemed to possess, but he felt the bristle of something under his paw as he started to lower it.

'A weasel?' he thought curiously, poking it with his paw, 'A weasel.' He stood there, staring at the weasel with a dumbfounded expression. 'Did a weasel just up and die in front of my den? How did a dead weasel get her?' There was definitely something odd going on, though Shadowpelt had no idea what exactly that something was. Was he being threatened? He'd heard of cats leaving dead animals as a threat, though he'd always thought it was a foolish kit's tale. Maybe there was something going on with the weather and it was causing - 'No, that's the most mousebrained idea you've ever thought up.'

Unable to figure out a reasonable explanation, Shadowpelt decided it was necessary to go into camp to talk to his father. He slipped into camp, trying once more to go unnoticed, and began making his way towards the elders' den. A bird taking flight caught his attention, though, and he managed to walk right into Falconclan's leader, Talonstar. The dark tom let out a squeak of surprise and backed up, crouching to the ground in expectation of being yelled at.

"You little curse!" Talonstar spat, snarling viciously at the younger tom, "I should have you ban-"

"No need for that, father," a voice came from behind. Fireleaf was soon at Shadowpelt's side, standing in front of the clan's leader with a smile. Talonstar narrowed his eyes to look at his son, before Fireleaf continued, "I think he's been punished enough." Huffing to himself, Talonstar walked away from the other two cats.

Shadowpelt was still low to the ground, eyes closed tight, afraid to cause any further stir. A gentle nudge on his side made him open his eyes, and he was surprised to find that there was no one left to fear. Fireleaf's smile was mischievous as ever, and it put the darker tom at ease. "I'm sorry, Shadowpelt. My father can be a little..." the ginger tom's voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Shadowpelt opened his mouth to thank the other tom, but Fireleaf spoke before he could, "Seen any weasels today?"

The question left the dark tom more than a little confused, but before he could follow it up with one of his own, Fireleaf had walked away. 'Weasels? What in Starclan makes him ask about weasels?' Shadowpelt thought, still thoroughly puzzled. A few moments later, the realization hit him, "The weasel!" The words were much louder than he had intended, booming throughout the camp. In fact, he hadn't meant to say them out loud at all and had been a bit startled by his own voice. Shadowpelt thought he could hear a sweet chuckle in the distance, no doubt belonging to Fireleaf.

---

"What's all of that banter about, Shadow?"

"Hmm? Banter? What're you talking about, dad?" Shadowpelt was confused, as he often was. His father smiled warmly, knowingly, and flicked his tail at his son. "All of the bantering between you and Fireleaf," Darkstipe clarified, raising a brow in a show of curiosity. The older tom was already sure that he knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Shadowpelt's own mouth. Shadowpelt started laughing nervously, "B-banter? Banter? Pfft, no. Banter? Between us? Between me and F-Fireleaf? Pfft, you- you're getting old. You old cat, you."

Darkstripe let out a deep, bellowing laugh. His son's nerves told him all that he needed to know, and he was happy for the answer. Shadowpelt had been happier and more confident lately, even coming into camp more often. Fireleaf, as it turned out, was the reason for the change.

---

"Congratulations, Emberglow," Fireleaf's words were soft and sweet, followed by a gentle nudge. "How does it feel to have a proper warrior name, one that fits you?"

Emberglow beamed with pride. "Like I'm an entirely different cat," the dark tom's smile widened as he spoke. "Oh, really? An entirely new cat? Should I be worried that you'll steal away with another cat and leave me all alone?" Fireleaf purred, nestling against the newly named warrior. Or, rather, the newly re-named warrior. Emberglow's heart felt as though it would burst with happiness as he laid down.

His voice was low, almost a whisper, when he spoke, "Never, my lovely." Fireleaf laid down next to the other tom, and the two settled in together. Nice and snug. "My lovely? You've never called me that before. You really must feel like a new cat," the ginger tom purred, closing his eyes, "Will you still love me if I call you Shadowpelt?" His whisper was followed by light snoring as he fell asleep. Emberglow gently licked Fireleaf's head as he slept.

"I'll always love you."
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[Micki.]

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Emberglow smiled, his heart warm at the sight before him. He'd never seen a group of kits sit so still and listen so intently, but that was Fireleaf's gift - getting others to listen. The large tom's smile widened as he watched his mate, so happy and so in his element, start another story.

'A long, long time ago, when our ancestors still walked the earth, and much before Starclan had even been formed, there was a small kit named WIllowkit. And much like some of you, she wanted nothing more than to be a warrior. But, as she grew older, Willowkit became Willowheart, and she found that love was the greatest gift of all.

Willowheart was the bravest warrior - no, the bravest cat - that anyone had ever seen! She was fearless in the face of danger and willing to give up her life for her clan. There was no one like her. She was utterly unique.

After her parents passed, forming the Starclan that we now know, she was heartbroken, for they had given her unconditional love. They were the source of her strength and bravery, she said, and without them she would be nothing. And so Willowheart set out on a quest to find someone else to give her love and be her new strength. It took many, many moons of searching before she finally found another cat that she believed would love her all the same. His name was Quickfoot, and he was the quickest, bravest cat she had ever met.

Willowheart was smitten, and so, too, was he - or so she thought.

His "unconditional love" began to fade away after a few moons, however, leaving her once more without strength. She became a shell of herself, hoping one day that Quickfoot would come back to her and love her again. Not long after, poor Quickfoot was killed in battle. Willowheart, ever the clever cat, saw an opportunity - she could bring him back to life, and he would be forever hers to love.

So she set about collecting the Five Blessings of Starclan, items left behind by each of the original five members of Starclan. By reuniting the items of death, she hoped that she could reverse it and bring life. It was a brilliant plan, and one that she was faithfully devoted to. Gathering all five of the blessings took more moons than even I can could tell you, but Willowheart did eventually find them all. She reunited them in the center of the original Starstone, and Quickfoot was brought back to life.'

The kits all gasped and stared at Fireleaf in awe. "How is that possible?" one molly gasped, wide-eyed and completely smitten with the legend. The tom smiled down at her and replied with a sweet, sing-song tone, "Everything is possible, as long as you believe in it."

"Well?" the ginger tom bounced towards Emberglow, grinning widely.

Emberglow fained disinterest, "Hmm? "Well" what?" His eyes were half closed in an attempt to show the other tom how uninterest he was. The ruse didn't fool Fireleaf, of course, who let out a playful hiss and knocked into the dark tom. He batted playfully at his mate's cheek before giving him a quick lick on his forehead and asking again, "Well, what did you think of the legend? The last one?"

A smile came from the larger tom, "Well, I'd tell you, but you were rude enough to make my forehead wet with your icky saliva." Fireleaf rolled his eyes at the words and sat in front of Emberglow, waiting on his real response. It took only a few moments before he answered truthfully, "It was interesting. I've never heard that one before, is it just something you made up?"

"Pfft, I wish. It's a real clan legend that my dad used to tell me when I was a kit, but they stopped telling the kits a while ago. It's sort of like a secret leader tradition to pass it on to their families, though, and I figured it was about time everyone starts hearing it again. It's an amazing story, isn't it?"

"Mmm," the large, dark tom thought for a moment, "But won't your father be upset with you, Fireleaf?" Another grin broke out across the ginger tom's face at Emberglow's words, a very mischevious grin. He had never much cared what Talonstar thought and now that he was to be made deputy? Fireleaf was practically jumping at any opportunity to try his father's patience, as if he was already daring him to take the deputy position away from him.

Emberglow laughed, licking his mate's forehead to give him a matching patch of wet fur, before purring softly, "What will we do with you? Deputy ceremony is in two days, and you can't even last that long without testing your father's limits."

---

"Do you vow to uphold the warrior code and perform all deputy duties faithfully?"

"I do," Fireleaf's expression, for once, matched the seriousness of the situation. When his father turned away to dip his paw in the sacred pool, however, the ginger tom stuck his tongue out and made a silly face at Emberglow. It took everything the other tom had not to burst out in a fit of laughter at the face.

Talonstar anointed Fireleaf with water from the sacred pool before announcing, "Deputy of Falconclan, Fireleaf." The clan echoed the words back, and the ginger tom gave a slight bow just as everyone began to go about their daily duties.

---

A cat ran into camp, yowling loudly, "Foxes incoming!"

Cats scattered across the camp, scrambling to prepare for the impending fox attack. Emberglow grumbled something under his breath as he was nudged awake by Fireleaf. "I swear you could sleep through anything, you big mousebrain," the ginger tom hissed urgently, prodding the darker tom with his foot, "Emberglow, get up!" The urgency in his voice made Emberglow's stomach drop as he got to his feet and followed him out of their den.

The two parted ways without a word, off to do their duties.

Everything that happened afterward was a blur to Emberglow. Blood here, yowling there. Claws, teeth, orange fur. More blood. Kits screeching in fear, warriors charging the family of foxes. A neverending stream of cats charging forward and falling back and charging forward and falling back. A neverending stream of bodies hitting the ground. A red-stained blur.

Dawn was starting to lighten the sky by the time he regained his senses properly, and for the first time since the chaos began, the dark tom was seeing the destruction that had been left in the wake of the foxes. 'I didn't even know they traveled in... in what, packs?' he thought, numbly, as he looked around at the camp. Then it hit him all at once - he hadn't seen Fireleaf since the fighting had begun. Emberglow's throat started to get tight, and his eyes started to sting. There was an unmistakable sinking feeling in his stomach, as he began to run through the camp.

He didn't see his mate, and his pace quickened. "Fireleaf?" he called, frantically trying to spot the ginger tom somewhere - anywhere. "Fireleaf?" he called out again. 'Please, Starclan.' Emberglow's heart was already starting to hurt as he continued his frenzied search. The tom was nowhere to be found in camp. Emberglow hurried off towards the woods, still desperate to find Fireleaf.

Then he spotted a motionless lump - laying there, not moving. The large tom started to lose any ability to focus. His world started to spin. Tears began to flow as he stood, still, in the woods, just staring at the motionless body. He felt every ounce of courage he had ever possessed leave his body all at once as he watched for any signs life. Was that a breath? Did he see the cat's ribs move up and down?

Emberglow padded cautiously towards the body, panting heavily as he realized it was, indeed, Fireleaf. A wave of guilt washed over him for not having the courage to approach sooner. "Em-Ember-" the ginger tom's words were interrupted by a sputtering cough, "Emberglow?" The larger tom collapsed to the ground beside him, wanting desperately to give him warmth and comfort and life. He forced back his tears as he answered, "Yes, it's me." It took incredible effort to keep his voice from quaking and cracking. His mind was a mess of broken thoughts, and his heart was shattered to pieces.

"You're going to be fine, Fireleaf," the dark tom whispered, not daring to speak any louder for fear that just the weight of his voice could break the other tom's last lifeline. "Li-liar," Fireleaf countered with a weak smile, struggling to speak at all. The tom's breathing was shaky and labored at best, and they could both feel the life leaving him. "Stay, st-stay with m-me, Shadowpelt.. un-until the en-end."

"I promise, my lovely, I promise." Emberglow whispered back, desperately hoping for some sort of intervention from Starclan. The other tom shook his head, as if reading his thoughts, and nestled into his mate. "That-th-that's the second t-t-time you've ever c-call-called me that. I wish I c-coul-could have heard it m-m-more," he mumbled, chest rattling as he let out another breath. His ribcage went still.

"I'll call you my lovely every day for the rest of my life. I swear I will, my lovely."
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[Micki.]

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Not long after Fireleaf's death, Emberglow started showing worrying signs. He was grieving and should be left alone, some said, but others were convinced that he was about to snap and harm someone. In truth, both arguments were right. He was only a hare's leap away from breaking, but it was because of his deep grief. A grief so deep that most cats will never know it.

He opened his eyes lazily, looking around the den with a sigh, before closing them again. What was the point of getting up? What was the point of living? Fireleaf had been the only good thing in his life for several moons, and without him there was nothing worth getting up for. 'He was the source of my strength and bravery and without him I am nothing,' Emberglow thought, bitterly opening his eyes again at the insistence of an annoying fly. But the thought triggered a memory - Fireleaf telling stories for the kits. One line, in particular, kept playing in his mind.

'They were the source of her strength and bravery, she said, and without them she would be nothing.'

"I know what you mean, Willowheart," he mumbled, pawing half-heartedly at the fly buzzing around his face. "Wait, I know!" the dark tom jumped up, suddenly invigorated with a new idea. 'Willowleaf brought Quickfoot back to life, so all I have to do is find where she put the Five Blessings of Starclan,' he thought, a smile on his face for the first time since Fireleaf's death.

With that thought, Emgerglow was springing from his den in the darkness of twilight and sprinting through the woods. He suddenly had something to live for, it seemed, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to get his mate back. There would be absolutely no stopping him. Or keeping him from going mad, for that matter.

---

Over the next several moons, Emberglow was popping in and out of camp at strange hours. He'd ferociously questioned all of Falconclan's elders, especially the two former leaders still alive, as well as Talonstar. Time after time, all they told him was the tale of Willowheart, nothing new. It took great persistence before Talonstar finally recounted that Willowheart went on to become Willowstar, leader of Falconclan, and that she had hidden the Five Blessings on Falconclan territory.

That new bit of information made Emberglow even more focused on his project, often at the cost of neglecting his own duties and the feelings of others. He had always been a kind cat, but suddenly he had no patience for anyone and frequently lost his temper with others, especially kits and apprentices.

---

"No!" he snapped, slapping the kit away with his claws and hurriedly grabbing the shimmering stone away from him. The stone was one of the blessings that Emberglow had devoted his entire life to finding, and he would not have a kit ruining everything for him. It was the most important thing he would ever do with his life, finding the stones. It was the only way to bring back his beloved Fireleaf.

The kit yowled in pain, bringing Emberglow's temper to a halt, and a long gash opened on the kit's side. Other cats came running at the sound and rushed to keep the kit from bleeding, while the large, dark tom only stood there, watching wide-eyed. "What is wrong with you?" Falconstar snapped, glaring furiously at the other tom. "My son would be ashamed of you," he spat before carrying the bleeding kit away.

He was left standing there, stuttering, "It- it- it's only a small scratch... the kit will be f-fine." And it was true. It didn't stop the tears from welling as the weight of what Falcon star had said hit him. 'Fireleaf would be ashamed of me,' Emberglow's heart hurt at the thought. He was determined to bring his mate back, though, and decided that it would be best for all involved if he left the clan.

'For their safety,' he reminded himself, giving the den he had shared with Fireleaf one last, longing look.
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[Micki.]

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Without other cats, Emberglow fell headfirst into madness. Cats from miles away told tales of the crazy cat that lived in a burrow outside of the forest, constantly mumbling numbness to himself.

He was constantly gathering items he believed to be the Five Blessings, and he was constantly trying to fit them together. There wasn't a moment he spent awake that he wasn't trying to bring back Fireleaf, and there wasn't a moment he was awake when he wasn't thinking about the blessings. He had become so contorted, such a shadow of himself, that anything out of the ordinary caused a panic and every cat he met was greeted with fang and claw. Emberglow was totally different from the cat he had been.

He had lost himself completely in his quest to bring back his mate, and the only thing that could save him was love.

---

It had been moons since the large, dark tom had seen another cat at all.

He was sleeping peacefully, for once, in his small burrow, dreaming of Fireleaf and their time together. Then, suddenly, a sound woke Emberglow from his dreams. He didn't jump to his feet and investigate, as he would have many moons ago, but he no longer cared what could come in. 'If something should happen to me,' he thought, 'I will be with Fireleaf again, and there will be no need for the blessings.' He closed his eyes, hoping to drift back to sleep, with a huff, 'It may even save me some work.'

rustle, rustle. SNAP!

His ears pricked up at the sound, though this time he didn't bother to open his eyes. Emberglow was a warrior no longer, his fighting spirit shattered and his will to live all but gone. "Fireleaf was my strength," he mumbled sleepily, yawning and wishing for more dreams of the ginger tom. 'My lovely,' the thought was interrupted by a loud noise at the entrance of the den, too sudden and too loud for him to avoid opening his eyes.

Green eyes, with a mischevious twinkle.

'Those eyes,' Emberglow blinked hard, trying to clear away the fogginess of sleep, 'Fireleaf? My lovely?'

Then his vision focused, and what came into view was a disappointment. Instead of Fireleaf, a small she-cat stood in the entrance of the den, smiling down at him. He huffed, struggling to fight back tears as he looked at her eyes, so similar to his mate's. He hadn't seen eyes like those since the ginger tom had died, and they brought a rush of raw emotion flooding back to him, making him almost choke.

"I'm Mousestar, the one and only, leader of Bearclan," the she-cat's voice was sweet and gentle.

It took, what seemed to Mousestar, an eternity convince Emberglow to follow her back to camp. The dark tom towered over the tiny she-cat as they walked towards the clan's camp, Mousestar's tail swishing happily behind her as she bounced along. He was annoyed at the display of happiness, but all of his annoyance and reluctance disappeared when they stepped foot in Bearclan camp. "Bearclan? This is Falconclan's camp..." he mumbled in confusion, staring for a long time at the den he was absolutely sure that he and Fireleaf used to call their own, 'They must have left.'

"Mouse, that cat is beyond our help. He's beyond redemption, completely insane. Madness has claimed him," a tom whispered, glaring at Emberglow, who was too happy to be back home to notice.

"We're all a step from madness, Whiterush."
x

[Micki.]

x
word count:

the shadow of a kit: 963
the strength of love: 1326
the weakness of love: 1567
the insanity of love: 680
redemption of the lost: 587
total: 5123 / 5500

used the 500 extra words to add to the story !!
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