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Ashfur’s corpse bobbing in the water, red streaming from his throat. Leafpool standing before bright red berries, pain in her eyes as she meows in a broken voice. Red and yellow crackling on every side with the shape of a red cat that might have been a mother once hardly visible among the flames. Red, red, red. As Hollyleaf pelts towards the tunnels, familiar red images burn behind her eyes.
Another red thought crosses her mind — a pelt swirling with red and orange and black and white and brown.
Hollyleaf digs her paws into the ground, tumbling to a halt. Relieved noises from her brothers barely register in her ears. She has unfinished business and by StarClan she is going to take care of it.
Where did he go. Where is he. Last saw him at the old twoleg nest. He never stays in one place for long. Where is he.
She looks at her brothers for a moment, eyes wide as if she were caught in the light-gaze of a monster. They seem expectant — for her to come back? She can’t come back. She can’t. They don’t know what’s going on in her head yet. They couldn’t possibly know.
Hollyleaf turns and runs, ignoring their confused yowls.
Can’t do it yet. Wait till nightfall. Hide. Get the Clan off her tail. Killed before. Can kill again. He deserves it.
She puts more and more distance between herself and ThunderClan camp. She ignores the scents of her Clanmates wafting to her nose in groups as if they’re issuing search parties. They don’t understand.
The moon climbs into Silverpelt, Hollyleaf is no longer in Clan territory, and she is following the scent trail of a cat she despises to the point of obsession.
The walk gives her time to seriously ruminate on her thoughts towards Sol. She knows he is untrustworthy. She knows that for certain now that she has nothing left to lose — nothing left to gain, no more questions to be answered, no more fresh-kill for him to dangle over her head. But she’s always known his nature and she’s always fallen for his talk anyway. He’s dangerous because he is compelling.
Even now, Hollyleaf wonders if it is unsafe to approach him. What if she finds herself wrapped around his claw the moment he starts speaking? No — no, she can’t. She is resolute. But… what if? What if that’s the only reason why she’s so drawn to him? What if it’s all according to his plan that she can’t get him out of her head, even if it’s in the form of cursing his name and envisioning his blood spilling?
The scent is getting stronger. Hollyleaf hardly recognizes where she is. It doesn’t matter.
“Hollyleaf.”
She nearly jumps out of her own fur.
“Sol!”
She steadies her glare on the cat as he emerges from underneath a shrub.
“Stars above, were you just sitting under that bush waiting to scare me half to death?” she snaps.
He licks his paw and scrubs his ear, nonchalant. “I was resting,” he says. “I heard you coming and was kind enough to greet you, and this is how I’m repaid? And here I thought you were the nice one of you three. Perhaps I picked the wrong favorite.”
Her ears flatten. “I’m… I’m not…” She shakes her head. “Quit trying to flatter me. I see through you. I’m not here to talk.”
“Then what are you here for, Hollyleaf?”
She can’t stand his voice. It’s too perfect. Deep and rich, lilting, soft. The type of voice that sticks in your head for moons after hearing it. It makes her want to claw her own ears off. Or rip his throat out. Whichever comes first.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” she hisses.
“I know enough,” he mews in that infuriating way, all self-satisfied and smug. Hollyleaf’s tail lashes. Sol pays it no mind.
“Quit talking like that. No you don’t, you foxhearted piece of — you think you can just act all cryptic and wise, and, and like you have something to offer me. You don’t know a thing about me, Sol. Stop pretending you do! You can’t trick me anymore!”
“Who said anything about tricking you? Hollyleaf, you’re clearly very upset; I doubt you’re thinking straight. I mean you no harm. You know that, don’t you?”
Hollyleaf almost wavers, almost lets herself sink into that familiar haze called listening to him, but the rage breaks through it, searing hot. Red.
“I don’t know that,” she spits. “I don’t understand what it is you want, but I know it’s not good. If it was, you wouldn’t have to play all these… these games of the mind. You don’t even see me as a fellow cat, do you? You don’t!”
“Goodness. Where did you get that sort of idea?”
Hollyleaf knows where she got that idea. She knows exactly what it’s like to see a cat as less than a cat. To stalk them from behind, to spring on them and tackle them to the forest floor, to sink fangs into their throat and leave them bleeding in the stream.
Sol is doing it to her right now. Maybe not physically, but that’s how he sees her mind. Prey to be devoured. She knows it. She’s seen it in his eyes.
“Hello? Ground control to Hollyleaf? Are you going to answer me, or are you going to gaze at your paws and look troubled all night?”
What in StarClan’s name is ground control; where’d he pick up all those fluff-brained twoleg phrases? Who is he to tell Hollyleaf what to do, when to speak? Does he think he already has her where he wants her?
She won’t give him the satisfaction. She won’t give him the chance.
It’s like last time. He doesn’t register as a cat when she pounces on him. He’s a problem to be disposed of. It’s almost embarrassing to do away with this one like she did the last one; she feels a bit like an apprentice who’s only mastered one trick as she fastens her teeth in the thing’s throat. The fur around its neck is long and thick. She doesn’t care. She makes it work.
She doesn’t realize there was a struggle until after it’s over with. The adrenaline fades and leaves her aware of the scratches on her pelt.
The heap at her paws is uncomfortable to look at. She does not like confronting the fact that he was just a cat. He didn’t work any magic, didn’t cast any spells. He was just a good talker. His body was the same as any other cat’s; fragile, exploitable. She made of his body what he made of her mind.
She can’t think on it any longer or she’ll be sick. She’ll be forced to confront the fact that someone like a Clan leader could be swayed by simple words. That someone like herself could be swayed by simple words.
The red pooling under Sol is not cathartic. It does not make her feel any better. There’s no peace to be found in confronting that this monster was only a cat. All it does is make Hollyleaf angrier and angrier with herself, make her see red.