| rdfs:comment | - I awaken with a jolt. Sure enough, it’s still dark out. That little nap hasn’t changed a thing. I stand up so that I can pace, gasping for breath. That was one of the most realistic nightmares I’ve had to date; I can still feel that imaginary Sylph’s cold paws clutching at my neck, trying to strangle me to death. It was chillingly realistic – just like the actual battle was. I can hardly breathe. So I sleep here, outside of the camp, alone, every single night, no matter how dark, no matter how cold. I am Nightpaw. This is my life. But for all this, I still cannot bring myself to let it go.
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| abstract | - I awaken with a jolt. Sure enough, it’s still dark out. That little nap hasn’t changed a thing. I stand up so that I can pace, gasping for breath. That was one of the most realistic nightmares I’ve had to date; I can still feel that imaginary Sylph’s cold paws clutching at my neck, trying to strangle me to death. It was chillingly realistic – just like the actual battle was. I take a few deep breaths, reminding myself that I’m living in the present, that the Great Sylph War has already ended. Somehow, we managed to last until daylight and lure the Sylphs into a great fire. We killed them all. The Sylphs are gone. None of them are left; none of them will ever bother us again. I can hardly breathe. I curl up inside my makeshift nest again, wishing – not for the first time – that I could be back with my Clanmates in the camp, but I know that’s impossible. They’d never let me stay with them at night, and I know it wouldn’t work out, anyways. I’d either get bored and have to get up and leave, which would disturb any of the cats around me, or I’d actually manage to fall asleep somehow, which would just disturb them even more. So I sleep here, outside of the camp, alone, every single night, no matter how dark, no matter how cold. I am Nightpaw. This is my life. I sigh and rest my head on my paws. It’s so hard, living like this; even after the Sylphs are all gone, when everything should be peaceful again, when I need the company of other cats the most, I’m turned out of the camp because no one can stand to share a den with me. It’s just not fair, but… I guess I should be used to it by now. It’s been six moons, after all. But I can’t. I just can’t seem to let it go. I get back up and walk around a little to stretch my legs. It is pretty out here, now that the rain has washed away all the blood and the little animals have all returned. I can hear the crickets chirping merrily out in some distant reach of the silver forest. The air is calm and crisp, and I can actually see beyond my own whiskers. The only wind is a faint breeze stirring the treetops. Everything is calm. But for all this, I still cannot bring myself to let it go.
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