AN: I do not own Warriors. Set post-OoTC. Title was a result of fangirling over too much Persona 3. Summary pulled out of nether portions in last second.

For the monthly writing challenge at LawlClan, with the following prompt: "It is never too late to be what you might have been" - George Eliot.

memento mori

"Where is everyone?"

"They're mourning, you mousebrain. You should be, too."

"Why?"

"Because our littermates are dead! Don't tell me you didn't notice that everyone's been sick lately? That we're the only kits left in the nursery?"

"But they're with StarClan now, the medicine cat tells us everyone's happy in StarClan—"

"Oh yeah, as happy as you can be when you're dead. Maybe our littermates will tell us all about it."

"You're not being reasonable—"

"Because I'm angry that my brothers are dead? Because they'll never become apprentices, or earn their warrior names?"

"Being angry won't bring them back."

A cruel, bitter laugh. "Where'd you get that line from, one of the elders? Easy for them to talk. They have nothing to lose."

"What if we lived their lives for them? Our dead littermates, I mean. We're still alive, aren't we? We could become warriors. Not just for us—but for the dead, too."

He awaited another barbed retort, but none came. She was silent—and silence meant she was thinking, or had nothing to say, or both. "It wouldn't be the same."

"But it's all we have."

"They're already dead—it's too late to do anything."

"It's never too late."

"So?"

"So let's make a promise. We'll become warriors. We'll become the best warriors, for everyone else who didn't make it."

"That's just stupid."

"Please."

Finally she turned to stare at the tom-kit, eye to eye, dark yellow meeting pale blue. There was fear in those blue eyes, wide and flickering. Why was he so afraid? They were young kits, barely three moons old. They had many moons ahead of them, seasons to look forward to. So why?

"I promise."

Day 1

"What do you think about cheating death?"

Sagepaw freezes mid-crouch to look back at me with wide eyes. "Y-You're not dying anytime soon, are you?"

"No." For some reason he doesn't seem convinced; maybe he's known me long enough to recognize the lie. "I was just wondering. Maplepaw's going to join StarClan in three days; she told me just yesterday." That's not a lie; she's been going around camp, telling every cat not to miss her after she's gone. "She's just going to sit and wait until she's dead." I pause, knowing that my next words have to be phrased perfectly. "But what if she tried to prevent it?"

Sagepaw pauses to think before replying. "It's impossible. The elders are always telling us stories about warriors who try to run away from death. They never succeed. If it were possible, the elders wouldn't always trying to tell us not to do it." Sagepaw sniffs the air for another whiff of prey-scent, gives up, and looks back at me. "Are you sure you're not..."

"Of course not," I snap. "I don't know when I'm going to die, but it's not anytime soon." Another lie. "Never mind what I said. We have hunting to do." I remind myself not to bring it up again, not with Sagepaw at least. He's the last cat who needs to know that his best friend is going to die.

In truth—and I've learned this only this morning, after waking from a dream—I am going to die in seven days.

In the dream, a StarClan cat told me that he had looked into my future: on the seventh day, including this one, I would join him in the stars. I didn't understand at first, of course—but it didn't take long. I wouldn't live long enough to earn a warrior name, or even see my first newleaf.

And I still remember his last words before he left me: Remember that you will die. They are words that every single cat—ThunderClan, ShadowClan, RiverClan, or WindClan—knows well. Every death is predetermined; we should consider ourselves lucky that we're given at least seven days to prepare.

It hadn't always been this way, of course.

Legend has it that a medicine cat named Cinderpelt was told, by StarClan, exactly when she would die. Most expected her to run, to try and save her own life—but instead she faced her death head-on, like a true warrior. So StarClan repeated the experiment with other cats whose ends were near—and discovered that when cats knew when their deaths would come, they stopped bickering over the small things—border disputes, a little bit of stolen prey, and the like. Nor did they run from their fates; they faced it like Cinderpelt did. The knowledge didn't drive them mad; it only changed them for the better. Matured them.

It was decided, then: every single cat would be reminded of their mortality. It was a lesson that StarClan had to teach us, right after the war with the Dark Forest: life is precious, and shouldn't be wasted fighting over trivial matters. All of us are the same, regardless of what Clan we're from—and we needed to understand that, so that the tragedy of that war would never happen again. Everyone—even the kits.

And it's worked well so far.

We return to camp with three mice and an awkward silence between us. Maplepaw's still scurrying around camp with an energy that you wouldn't expect to find in a cat who knows that she's going to die in a few days. As soon as Sagepaw and I drop our mice onto the fresh-kill pile Maplepaw's onto us, her eyes somehow bright with cheer. "Sagepaw!" she chirps, "I haven't told you yet, have I?"

"Hawkpaw told me," Sagepaw tells her. "I'm sorry, Maplepaw. It must be hard for you."

"Yeah, I guess. I won't be getting my warrior name with you two." Maplepaw glances away; is it fear or regret that's darkening her gaze? "But it's all right. We all join StarClan in the end, don't we? I'm just going a little earlier, that's all. 'Remember that you'll die'."

"We all remember," Sagepaw agrees. "Right, Hawkpaw?" He turns to me, but all I can think is that his eyes are so innocent and naïve. I wonder—when I die, will those eyes still remain blissfully young? Could he still be the same without me?

"Right."

I remember death, all right. It's not something we can ever afford to forget. But by the end of the first day, I have decided: I don't care what StarClan says; I don't care when they say I have to die. Because if I die, who'll take care of Sagepaw? Who'll protect him?

Today I decide that I will cheat death.

Day 2

"As the final day approached, Gorsetail grew anxious," Frostpelt rasps, her eyes narrowing. "He had never been a bold cat, and he feared the day when his life would finally end. On the final day, he refused to leave his nest; he slept through an entire morning within the safety of the den, clinging onto life."

She dramatically stops her story there, and waits expectantly. I resist the urge to sigh, but take the bait. "What happened to him?"

Satisfied, Frostpelt continues: "For an entire morning Gorsetail shivered in his nest, keeping one ear open for any sign of danger. He couldn't hear the adder as it slithered right by his nest, though, and he died—just as StarClan told him he would, seven days past."

Wait, what? "That's all? The adder killed him and he died, just like that?"

"Of course," Frostpelt says irritably. "How else could it end?"

"I asked for a story where a cat doesn't die. Where he actually succeeds in staying alive, past his last day." I know I shouldn't snap, but Frostpelt clearly heard me say it: Can you tell me a story about someone who escapes death? "Weren't you listening at all?"

"I was listening. Were you?"

What's that supposed to mean? I get to my paws, frustrated. All day during training I was looking forward to figuring out how I might cheat death by listening to stories of those who succeeded—but I hadn't learned anything at all, besides the fact that Frostpelt's ears might be going deaf. "Thanks for the story." What I want to say is: Easy for you to say—you're not the one who has six days left to live.

I stomp out of the elders' den, and hear a familiar voice. "Hawkpaw! Where were you?"

It's Sagepaw. "Where were you?" After training I looked for him as always, but I couldn't find him anywhere in camp. His mentor Jayflight told me that Sagepaw was changing the elders' bedding today, but I couldn't find him there either—hence why I was there, listening to some stupid elder's story. "I was with Frostpelt—I thought I'd find you there."

He ducks his head, the way he always does when he's ashamed. "Sorry. I was with Maplepaw." Please understand, his eyes tell me, while his voice says nothing else.

"I see." Maplepaw's dying earlier than I am, I remind myself so that this stab of jealousy can go away. She deserves Sagepaw's time too. At the same time another voice is crying: I'm your best friend. How can you spend even one day without me?

No. There's no use in complaining. Death can't be scared away by complaints, can it? Today might have been wasted—but I'd work harder tomorrow, and the day after that, all the way up till the final day. I'm not going to give up like Maplepaw; even if I turn out to be another Gorsetail, at least I know I'll have done something.

Everything will be fine. It has to be.

Day 3

"I think you and Sagepaw would be cute together."

I nearly choke on my mouthful of vole; I have to force it down before I can tell Maplepaw exactly what I think about that. "That's a load of foxdung. We're friends—just like you are. Don't be silly."

"But I'm dying tomorrow, so I can be as silly as I want."

How can she be so cheerful about that? I'm dying four days after this one, I want to tell her, but Maplepaw would probably tell every soul in ThunderClan about it. That means Sagepaw would know—and I can't let that happen. "We all die, remember? It doesn't matter whether someone looks cute with Sagepaw or not."

"You're too pessimistic, Hawkpaw."

You're not pessimistic enough.

She continues halfheartedly picking at her mouse; she's hardly even eaten all morning. "Are you training with Rowanfur today?" I shake my head; my mentor didn't say anything about a training session. "Neither am I!" Well, of course—what kind of mentor would spend his apprentice's last day of life on training? "Let's go visit Silvercloud's kits—have you seen how cute they are?"

I don't have any time to waste playing with kits, and I hate watching them anyways—but I don't know where to go next with my plans, so I suppress a sigh and go with Maplepaw as she chatters all the way to the nursery. Someone's already playing with Silvercloud's four fluffy kittens, all tumbling in the dust. Once we get closer, I recognize the silver fur and the flash of blue eyes. "Sagepaw?"

"Oh—Hawkpaw!" Another kit ambushes him from the side, headbutting into his flank, and he falls over again. That's the cue for the three other kits to scramble over him, nipping playfully. "C-C'mon, you're embarrassing me in front of my friends!" Maplepaw can't stop laughing and even she joins in, mrrowing as she playfully swats one kit off her back and swats Sagepaw with a flick of her tail.

"Ow—Goldkit, that hurt!" Sagepaw fluffs out his pale fur and lashes his tail as the four kits scramble for retreat. I forget that I'm even there until Sagepaw asks, "Hawkpaw, why don't you join us? They're actually a lot tougher than they look—Goldkit will be the next Lionblaze for sure!"

I can only stare at them both—Maplepaw, due to die in one day's time, covered in dust from tumbling with a bunch of two-moon-old kits. Isn't she afraid of dying at all? How can she be wasting time fooling around like this?

"Maybe some other time." But that's a lie, like everything I've told my friends the past few days, because the truth is that my third day is already half-gone and I still don't know what I'll do when all my time runs out.

And Sagepaw—what was going on with him? It's not like him to abandon me to play with kits. And I know he doesn't like playing with the kits, just like me. He's changing and I don't know what it is, but even worse is that I don't have the time to find out why, because I am going to die in four days.

Day 4

Maplepaw died today. She and Sagepaw were on the dawn patrol when it happened. They say it was a mad fox that chanced upon the patrol near the ShadowClan border, and it had gone for Maplepaw's throat before any of the warriors could even react. It wasn't possible to retrieve her mangled carcass until the fox finally grew tired and wandered away. By the time Maplepaw is dragged to camp, the sun has set and the evening patrol has already left to track down that fox.

That's not what's bothering me, though. What bothers me is how little they seem to care that Maplepaw is dead—but then again, why should they? We've known that she was going to die for a while now; that's why she was running around camp for the past seven days, reminding everyone that her time was soon. ThunderClan had forgotten Maplepaw before she had ever left.

It's my turn to say good-bye—but as I stand before her body, I don't know how to say it. There isn't any sadness, no remorse. I accepted that she would die today just like the rest of them.

When I die, my burial ceremony wouldn't be like this. No one, not even Sagepaw, knows that I only have three days left. It would come as a shock to the entire Clan. If I tell them now, they'll still have days to prepare; my death would shock no one, and life would go on. That was a good thing—it wasn't productive for a Clan to grieve too long over a single cat's death. It's what we've all done, for Maplepaw and countless lives before her.

But is it really so selfish of me to want the entire Clan to grieve, once I'm gone?

The warm glow of daylight is already fading behind the edges of the hollow; the sun is setting on my fourth day.

Day 5

"You've never been this eager for battle training." Rowanfur settles into a crouch, pounces, and I roll to the side just in time. I try to catch his ears with a pawswipe that, in a claws-unsheathed spar, would have taken them off in one slice—but my mentor is faster than I am, and ducks easily. "So where does this newfound enthusiasm come from, Hawkpaw? Found a tom you want to impress?"

If it had been Maplepaw, I would have gotten angry. But this is Rowanfur; he knows I'm not that kind of cat, and he's just trying to tease me like he always does. I trip him as he pounces again, but he easily twists in midair to land neatly on all four paws. "Why would I want to impress anyone?"

"Thought that's what all young she-cats think about," Rowanfur teases, shaking the dust out of his patched coat. "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"I don't think about that."

"And all this time I thought you were trying to impress me." He feigns shock and surprise as he settles into another crouch. "So what is the real reason why you're so focused today? Trying to beat Sagepaw to that warrior name?"

"No." I leap before he can, knocking him over before his paws can leave the ground. "Just an idea I had."

His hind legs kick back, sending me flying across half the length of the clearing. "And what would that be, Hawkpaw?"

"What it really means to be a warrior." My side is aching, but it's nothing compared to what I have planned for tomorrow. "What it means to fight. What it means to die."

"That doesn't sound like one idea," Rowanfur jokes. "And training will help... how?"

"I haven't figured that part out yet."

"Any way your old mentor can help?"

I'm about to shake my head, but then another idea strikes me. "What is the bravest thing a warrior can do?"

"Die for her Clan? Maybe dying for a loved one, if you're feeling dramatic."

"It's always about dying, isn't it?"

My tone must have been more bitter than I wanted, because Rowanfur catches on immediately. "This is about Maplepaw, isn't it?" I don't answer. "You have to move on. We all have to."

That's not what this is about, but that's part of it. "Why? No one even seems to remember her anymore. They forgot. If we don't remember our dead, then who will?"

"The cat whose life she saved." That surprises me—I never heard that in any of the stories. "What, you didn't know? I thought Sagepaw would've told you." I shake my head; Sagepaw wasn't in any state to tell stories about how Maplepaw died on that patrol. "The fox attacked Sagepaw, but Maplepaw threw herself between them."

"But—"

"Don't get it wrong, Hawkpaw. We all remember that we're going to die. Time passes, life goes on, and maybe Maplepaw's name will be forgotten—but what does a name matter? Her sacrifice saved a life—made a difference. And in the end, that's what that really matters."

What really matters.

I had given up a long time ago. I can't run away from death; Gorsetail couldn't, and neither could Maplepaw. But maybe, just maybe, I could still be remembered. By spending my life, I'd save another—just as Maplepaw did.

Day 6

It's hard to keep track of my last day. Yes, my last day—because I'm afraid this courage won't hold till the real seventh day. All I can remember is the pigeon I shared with Sagepaw this morning, the dawn patrol I joined—and now it's nearing sundown. Only when night falls do I dare steal out of the apprentices' den, to disappear into the forest with one goal in mind: killing a fox.

We—the dawn patrol, that is—tried to track down that killer fox, to drive it away from ThunderClan or even kill it if possible. It was too dangerous to venture out of camp alone while that fox still remained within our borders; anyone could be next to join Maplepaw. All this fear, this terror—and I planned on destroying all that.

It's by chance that I encounter a fresh trail of pungent fox scent; it's alarmingly close to camp, and that only lends speed to my paws as I track it down. Something's a little strange about this scent—it reminds me of back when Sagepaw and I were kits, living through that outbreak of greencough that killed our littermates—but that makes it even easier to follow. To my relief the scent swerved away from the camp, towards the lake; before long I can feel that cool night breeze on my face.

A twig snaps behind me and I half-whirl, half-crouch; my entire body is frozen while I scan the shadowed bushes for any sign of movement. Either nothing is there, or whoever's following me is frozen in their tracks like I am. "Come on out," I challenge, feeling my hackles rise. "I know you're there!"

Still nothing. I consider investigating—I don't need some enemy spy pouncing on me when my back is turned—but the wind changes abruptly, and the scent it carries is shocking. "Sagepaw?"

There's a small gasp from the shadows, and there's no mistaking it. Sagepaw slinks out of the ferns, his gait weak and halting. "H-Hi, Hawkpaw."

"Hi? Hi? Is that all you can say?" Words can't describe my anger; I let out my fury by shredding the undergrowth beneath my claws, and still I want to tear something's pelt apart. "Why are you here, Sagepaw?"

"I could ask the same of you," he protests, lifting his chin aggressively. "We're not supposed to leave camp alone, you know that! What if the fox found you?"

"None of your business. Now get back before someone finds you missing."

"And you?" I remain silent. "I'm coming with you."

"Who said I was going anywhere? Maybe I just wanted some fresh air, a nice view." It is a nice view; from where we stand we can see the stars reflected on the lake's midnight blue surface, and the cool breeze was refreshing. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

He flinches from that word—promise. "I'm not leaving you here."

My patience snaps and I'm furious again; he's not usually this stubborn, and it's a reminder of how much he's changed over the past few days. "What's going on with you?" I demand. "You're never like this! Playing with kits, leaving me at the elders' den—this isn't you, Sagepaw!"

I would have had more to say, but the wind shifts again and we both gag—it's fox, pure fox stench that washes over us both. It's too strong, and that means it must be—

"Hawkpaw!" Instinctively I roll, and hear the snap of teeth as the fox's jaws come together with one deadly click; if I hadn't reacted in time, that bite would have taken my entire head. There's no time to feel terror as the fox's crazed eyes meet mine; my paws pound at the dirt to dodge the fox's next pounce. The third time the fox leaps, I slip on the slippery undergrowth and crash into the ground; I brace myself for the teeth, squeezing my eyes shut—

"Hawkpaw, run!"

When I reopen my eyes the fox is on the ground, struggling to shake off a small cream-colored cat latched onto its back. My first instinct is to do as Sagepaw says, and flee while he distracts the fox—but something stays my paws and roots all four of them to the ground. Why? Why is he doing this? The Sagepaw I know wouldn't throw himself at a fox like that; he'd run, or call for help, or...

The fox yelps and finally dislodges Sagepaw's claws from its back, and my friend crashes hard. Finally my body can move, and my teeth are buried in the fox's foreleg before it can tear Sagepaw to pieces. The fox howls angrily while I make sure Sagepaw gets to his paws and finally, finally runs away—but before I can let go and flee with him, pain flashes through my shoulder as the fox bites down. It doesn't get a decent grip so I can struggle free before it can find my throat, and spring away before it can grab me again.

The forest races by in a blur, and my heart's thudding nearly drowns out the fox's screams as it gives chase. I need to stop and think, hide somewhere and plan just how I'm going to kill this thing—but it's like a neverending nightmare, where I keep running and running while the monster slowly catches up. Finally my thoughts catch up with my fear and I claw my way up a tree, terror propelling me up like a squirrel. Foxes can't climb, I think frantically. Right? Or was it dogs that couldn't climb? Badgers?

I cling to my tree branch while the fox skidded to a stop at the tree's base, sniffing. For a split heartbeat the fox is utterly defenseless; if I leap down now, maybe I could reach its throat with my claws and kill it before it kills me or Sagepaw. I shift my weight around, preparing to do it—but at the critical moment, when the perfect opportunity reveals itself, my limbs are locked. Frozen.

I'm afraid to die.

That sounds obvious—everyone should be afraid of death—but that's not what shames me. What shames me is that I left the camp in the dead of night with the intent of hunting down Maplepaw's killer, sacrificing my own life if necessary—only to turn tail, run, and cling to life like a coward. Sagepaw, quiet little Sagepaw, was so much braver than I was; he threw himself at that fox to buy me time—

I had to find Sagepaw. The fox finally gave up and wandered elsewhere, snarling softly; I cautiously crept back down, trying to find some trace of Sagepaw's familiar scent in the midst of fox-stench. I ran in the same direction as he did; he can't be far from here. "Sagepaw, are you there? Sagepaw!"

"Shhh!" He's crouched underneath some ferns, pressing himself as close to the ground as he can go. I join him there, thankful that the night's darkness should hide us well enough. "You have to get back."

"Me?" Now Sagepaw really wasn't making sense. "What, you're not coming?"

It was a joke, to lighten the mood—we were still friends, after all—but to my shock, Sagepaw only nods. "I have to do this, Hawkpaw."

"This is about Maplepaw, isn't it?" I remember that traitorous jealousy, seeing my friend suddenly spending so much time with Maplepaw. "Don't be stupid! Killing the fox and becoming some stupid hero isn't going to bring her back!"

"No, I—"

"You're only going to get yourself killed!" I'm shaking now, struggling to keep my voice down so the fox won't return. And pain is throbbing in my shoulder where the fox grabbed me. I couldn't feel it when I was running for my life—but now that I'm trying to save someone else's, the pain refuses to go away.

"I know."

"What about our promise? We're becoming warriors, remember?" Guilt stabs at my heart because I already know—as I've known, when that StarClan cat told me that I would die in seven days—that I would never, ever fulfill that promise. "We're just apprentices, Sagepaw. Let's go back to camp, tell all the warriors—"

"Hawkpaw." He doesn't look at me; his eyes are still scanning the forest, watching for any sign of the fox. "I'm going to die today."

My first response is to protest, to assert that no one is going to die today. Then I realize what he means when he says that he's going to die. Sagepaw isn't throwing his life away; he's here because he knows that it's his last day. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I tried, Hawkpaw, I really did!" He turns to face me and I realize that this is Sagepaw, the cat I've known since we first opened our eyes in the nursery. He hasn't changed at all. "I told Maplepaw, I told the kits, I told all of ThunderClan—everyone except you."

My best friend was dying, and somehow everyone knew—except for me.

That's why I couldn't find him after training practice; that's why I found him playing with Silvercloud's kits, and why he was spending so much time with other cats without me. He was saying goodbye, and he saved me for last.

And he still hasn't answered my question. "Why?"

"Because I can't become a warrior."

"Foxdung!" I swear, not even caring whether the fox can hear. "You're not going to die, you hear me? We're going to get back to camp, we'll raise an alarm and chase that fox away. And we'll becomes warriors, both of us together—"

"It's too late!" Sagepaw cries helplessly. "It's the end of the line for me, Hawkpaw. I'm sorry. I just don't have any time left."

Neither do I. But at this point I know that this isn't the time to tell Sagepaw that I'm supposed to die tomorrow. "It's never too late, Sagepaw—isn't that what you told me, all those moons ago? Was that a lie? You're just going to give up just because some stupid StarClan cat said that you're going to die today?" I grit my teeth—not just from the frustration, but because the teeth marks are really starting to hurt now. The sky's already growing lighter; I can see that the dark patch on my shoulder is matted blood. "Let's go home."

I don't know how long we stay there, glaring at each other. For a heartbeat I think that, if we just stand here, this day will end and Sagepaw will escape death—but then I remember the story of Gorsetail's death. Everywhere, everything told us that we couldn't escape our fate.

I asked for a story where a cat doesn't die. Where he actually succeeds in staying alive, past his last day. Weren't you listening at all?

I was listening. Were you?

The elder wasn't going deaf. She was trying to tell me something that day, that what I wanted to accomplish simply couldn't be done. And Rowanfur—did my mentor know all this too? That Sagepaw would go out and waste his stupid life on some stupid fox?

"You're an idiot," I hiss. "You think you're going to play hero on your own? I'll stop the fox. We'll become warriors together."

"Hawkpaw—"

"Let's go!" It's a fake smile I show him, but it's still a smile. "We'll show that smelly furball what it means to mess with us." I can smell the fox again; it's barking now, making enough noise to wake everything up from here to the camp hollow. It's going to find us soon, and we'll either kill or be killed. "Besides, we can't break our promise."

"You're hurt, you can't keep going like that—"

"You're such a worrywart," I gripe. "You always have been. I'll attack from above, you go for its throat. Now stop complaining and let's go!"

The fox trips through the ferns, almost stepping on my tail before it swerves sharply and sees us both in the shadows. "Hurry!" Sagepaw darts away through the undergrowth while I clamber up another tree. He leads the fox into a circular chase, staying barely one leap ahead of its jaws while I stand precariously on a branch overhead.

It'll only take one leap, and one life.

The fear comes again, but it's not the same as before. I don't want to die, even if it means saving a life just as Maplepaw did—but I have to decide, even if I'm terrified. Because that's what it takes to be a warrior—not just to receive some name or a fancy ceremony, but to stare at death in the eye and not look away.

From where I stand I can see the sun's rays pushing above the horizon, ending my sixth night with the start of my last day. Today is the day I die.

Remember that you will die.

I land on the fox's back and its legs buckle to the ground. The force tears my grip away, and the fox twists to face me—and for one single precious heartbeat, its neck is exposed. Now, Sagepaw! Sagepaw pounces just as the fox's jaws stretch wide to reveal rows of jagged fangs; it's too fast, and once it kills me it'll kill Sagepaw next—so I leap into the jaws, feeling nothing as my bones shatter under the predator's grip. The fox shakes me as a kit would play with a dead mouse, and that gives Sagepaw the time to sink both teeth and claws into its throat.

Last Day

I don't remember how I somehow leave the fox's jaws to be sprawled out in the middle of camp—but here I am, bleeding my life out and wondering just where my last seven days have gone. I recognize Owlstar's voice buzzing in the background; it takes me a while to make out the words: "...given up her life in the service of her Clan. Let StarClan receive her as a warrior. She will be known as Hawkheart."

I'm back at camp. Alive. At first I feel relief—until pain seizes me unawares and destroys whatever ideas I had of getting up. This isn't my warriors ceremony—not the usual one, anyways. It's the ceremony granted to dying apprentices, just like in the stories.

"Hawkpaw—Hawkheart." I barely recognize him from under all that blood soaking his pelt, but those blue eyes will never change. "This—this isn't right. I was supposed to die today, Hawkpaw, no one else—"

"No—" That hurts, so I have to pause and brace myself before trying again. "You're not going to die." I try to twist my head towards the sky. Sure enough, the sun is slowly rising—ending my sixth night with the start of my seventh day. The day when I was predicted to die. "You were supposed to die yesterday. But you didn't. Someone up there in StarClan must have made a mistake."

I'm actually fascinated now. Sagepaw was supposed to die yesterday, just as StarClan predicted—but here he is, living beyond his expected day of death. Did StarClan really make a mistake? Or did we somehow change fate? That one sounds fancy; I suppose it'll do—because I don't have much time to think about it further.

"But what about you?"

"Today's the day I die." I can already feel the numbness spreading, the shadows darkening the edges of my vision even as the sun climbs up higher into the sky. "I've known for a while now."

"Why didn't you tell ThunderClan?" The other cats are standing back; I glimpse Rowanfur's pelt in the crowd, and for a heartbeat I feel remorse. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"The same reason you didn't tell me. It just—it felt wrong. To break the promise." Beyond Sagepaw I see starlight, a shimmering ghost of a cat—just like in my dream—and I know I don't have time left. Now's the time to think of some inspiring last words, but all my witty lines flee when I need them most. "I kept my promise. Your turn to catch up. And remember..." Sagepaw leans closer so I can whisper: "We all die someday—but it's never too late, you hear me? It's—" I cough, spitting out a glob of blood—"It's never too late. For anything."

The last thing I see is Sagepaw's smile, which somehow makes everything better. And the last thing I hear is, "I remember"—which makes all this worth it.

End

Sorry for the length. Somehow I went from complaining about a 2k-word story to some 6k-word monstrosity (which isn't as bad as 8k+, so I guess I'm improving). If it means anything, I deleted as much excess (including these darned abundant em dashes) words I could before breaking into faux tears. Oh, and sorry if all this was just a steaming pile of angsty rubbish. Someone needs to slap the angst out of me. But most importantly:

Thanks for reading.