Infinite Dusk

Chapter 1

The trees flashed past him, the early light of dawn barely peeking between their branches as he ran. It felt good to sprint, for his paws to ache just enough to take his mind off of her.

Her.

She had been his life ever since he was apprenticed. The moment he met her, saw her, even, he knew that he wanted to spend his entire life by her side.

But Tawnystripe wasn't interested in him, and never would be. His life had shattered into a thousand different clawpricks of pain and all he could do was stay silent and be happy for her.

It wasn't that he disliked Mosspetal. No, she was definitely a good cat and would make Tawnystripe happy. He just couldn't stop wishing that it was him, him by her side as she became a warrior, him becoming her mate as soon as possible, him capturing her heart in moments.

But no. That was all Mosspetal, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

His nose caught wind of a scent, some kind of rodent, and he sighed in relief at the distraction. Dropping straight into a hunter's crouch, he approached as slowly as possible, staying downwind and following the smell, until he caught sight of the creature.

A mouse sat a tail-length ahead, just past the trunk of a tree, gnawing at some seed on the ground. In moments Larkpaw approached it silently and leaped forward with dizzying speed and swiftly bit its neck before burying the fresh-kill in a shallow scrape of earth.

It was a short distraction, just enough to tear his mind away from the thought of her shimmering ginger fur and the strength of her long claws. But it wasn't enough. Soon he was back to the all-encompassing thoughts and it was all he could do to place one paw in front of the other.

He shook himself and tried to find something else to occupy his thoughts. He landed quickly on Starlingpaw, who had spoken to him briefly before he left. Though he knew she meant well, she would never understand his pain. Though he wasn't entirely sure what his sister intended with Birchpaw, he knew that if Starlingpaw asked him, the black-and-white tom wouldn't refuse. It had been like that for a while.

Why was every cat happier than him? What did it take for Larkpaw to just find someone that loved him back?

As he traipsed through the woods, his mind buzzing with fears and regrets, he heard a faraway shriek.

Suddenly launched back into reality, his first thought was Owl, and he raced back on his trail of pawsteps to dig up the fresh-kill he had caught, hoping to get to it before the winged creature.

Luckily, he didn't hear the sound again, though he figured the nocturnal bird was still around somewhere. It took a while for him to gather every bit of fresh-kill, his mouth full of fur and feathers and his nose swimming with delicious scents, but he eventually managed to grab every bit of prey and start walking back to camp, weighed down by his quarry.

He traveled slowly, ducking between bushes and ferns to avoid the owl in case it scented his fresh-kill and tried to steak it from him. The foliage would at least provide some cover.

By the time he arrived at the thicket tunnel and the sun began to peek over the treetops, he hadn't thought about Tawnystripe for a record amount of time.

And as he entered, it seemed that time would continue.

The bustling DawnClan camp, normally bursting with energy as the first patrols went out, was entirely empty.

The prey fell out of his mouth as his jaw dropped. What in the name of StarClan was going on?

Larkpaw's pawsteps echoed like cracks of thunder as he walked into the empty clearing, the earthy ground sending billowing clouds of dust into the air.