Help. {Open.}

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The she-cat was getting old, although she was young at the same time. The reason why most would say old, is because of her limp. The limp is not her fault at all though, it was the frozen river. She wanted to cross, so I suppose it was her fault. But, she fell, and her leg got caught on a stick, and she twisted her leg out of her joint.

She wasn't so agile now, although she was still glad with what she had. Ice, that is all she cared for at the moment. Staying with RiverClan will be helpful, seeing the secrets of the clan, seeing their strategies of fighting and hunting. It could help her with training Ice, and Ice will get better with not just the help of herself, but of others.

Ice could practice with real cats, not a frail she-cat that has a crooked leg.

Don't get me wrong, NeedleHeart is still an opponent you would not want to see, for she was still strong and could still beat someone in a fight. She was getting a bit better with her leg, although she still needed to stretch it.

Another thing that all her past has caused is confusion, and depression. She needed help, needed to know what to do next. She wanted FrostStorm to be back, back with her. She just knew he doesn't need her, but does that mean she didn't need him?

She wanted him to come to her, just once, just once. Maybe it was a coincidence that Ice was there by the river? Or did it mean that she still could travel on, with blood spilling through her claws? Or could it mean that she needed to stop, and start caring for others?

She didn't know that answer. She wanted help from FrostStorm, the great warrior that he was. At least, he was great in NeedleHeart's mind.

On this particular day, she was limping out towards the river, where not only did she fall at, but where FrostStorm died.

The cream-colored she-cat had her pelt neatly groomed, for she was wishing for she could see the sighting of FrostStorm. Maybe StarClan was real, and maybe he would see her, no matter what Ice was doing at the giving moment.

Her brown eyes were large, and rather narrowed. Hatred still filled them, but there was a soft twinge of some other emotion; The emotion was pain and grief.

Her pink pads were moving rather slowly on the neaten grass, having a rather slight limp cause of her back leg. She stopped near the edge, and snuffed the ground where FrostStorm once laid upon, with spilling red.

She could see the flashback as clear as daylight, her wailing out, RiddleHawk's paw hitting her, and then FrostStorm.

Oh, RiddleHawk will pay, oh he will pay.

She sat near the edge of the river, her eyes scanning the clearing before she spoke to herself; she did not wish for anyone else to hear.

"FrostStorm, could you just show up... once... give me guidance!"

She hissed under her cold tone, her black claws slipping out of her paws and digging into the ground beneath her.

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Haunted

Froststorm had been practicing since his last contact with Ice- practicing the ability to appear without needing his living counterpart nearby. This took up a lot of focus and energy, thus hard to do, but he knew it could be worth it. He needed to be prepared for whatever crossed his path.


The ghostly warrior knew of Riddlestar's nine lives through this practice. He'd been too weak from the effort to take form, but his mind had woken just in time to appear in StarClan's territory, to see his hated enemy become leader. If he had been able to, Froststorm would have screeched and yowled, run over to Riddlestar and kill him as many times as it took to see his eyes lifeless once and for all. But he could only watch with bitterness in his heart as the cat he wanted dread became immortal.

How was Ice supposed to achieve his revenge now? His plan had been for Ice to grow strong and lethal, and then when Riddlehawk was aged and weak, to deliver a death blow to the scarred tabby's neck. But nine lives... Those blasted lives seemed to slow a leader's age. Riddlestar wouldn't be weakening any time soon. And even if Ice managed to kill the tabby once by some luck, Riddlestar would come back, and no doubt every cat in the forest would be out for his blood. Froststorm wouldn't have cared if his younger self died after Riddlestar had been taken care of, but those lives made all the difference.

The tom was fighting with defeat. On one hand, he could never let go of the past. Riddlestar had killed him, after all. There was no higher crime, and justice was needed. No one else was willing to give it- not even StarClan. Whatever their judgement of him had been, Riddlehawk had done the worst of it. That was the truth.

On the other hand, that was nine times to kill Riddlestar in Ice's one life. It was almost unthinkable. How would it happen? Ice could train as hard as he could, be the best fighter in the Clans, but that was still killing one cat over and over.

Froststorm spat in fury, but then looked around him. He hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going, just as long as he got somewhere. He recognized it in a heartbeat. This had been where he'd taken his final breath, where Riddlehawk had spilled his blood over the sandy shore. And there, not too far off, was Needleheart. He was surprised to see her there, but as being dead gave him knowledge, he knew why and how. His icy eyes narrowed; he didn't know what to think of her anymore. She had been loyal to him and his goal for many moons now, done her part to keep Ice in line with it. All in all, she'd been very useful, something he never would have expected as a living cat. But she was growing soft with age. He could see it in her, like a cloud, and that was the weakness. Still, she was loyal, after all, and still called out his name.

Froststorm wasn't sure if he had taken form. It was hard to tell, nowadays. But from where he sat, the dead tom tried to call out her name. "Needleheart."

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Her mind kept focusing on FrostStorm, day and day out. She was confused, terribly confused. She was growing soft, but only because she needed to learn more before she did anything. Then she would strike, strike hard and fast.

She pricked her ears, hoping that she could hear the faintest cry of FrostStorm, and her mouth opened. She was trying to get the scent of FrostStorm even. She wanted him so bad, for this time of need.

She then heard it-- FrostStorm.

"F-FrostStorm?"

She turned around, but saw nothing. She was swishing her head side-to-side, probably looking like she was crazy, and oh, she believed it.

She slunched her shoulders, and turned back towards the river, staring down at her reflection. Then she scented him. She panicked, her fur fluffing up.

"FrostStorm?"

She called out again.

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Something In The Wind

The tom's whiskers twitched. So she could hear him, but couldn't see him. He rose to his paws and padded closer- at least, he felt like he was moving. How strange it was to walk without seeing your paws. But yes, he was coming closer to the cream-colored she-cat.

She seemed so desperate, but for what? Froststorm couldn't fathom her thoughts. He didn't see what his being there could mean. Surely she knew he was still watching her and Ice whenever chance came his way. When he came to the riverbank, he continued to pad over the flowing waters, still feeling the fur prickle along his spine when he did so. It felt so unnatural, dead or alive. He then took his place next to Needleheart, blue eyes observing her closely.

"I'm here," he mewed simply. "Needleheart. Can you hear me?"

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The she-cat was being very still, her pads prickling with tension. Even if FrostStorm was there, how could she just break down infront of him? She would feel humilated. She would feel as if FrostStorm couldn't trust her loyalties.

"Yes."

She mew'd simply as well, with tension barely slipping past her teeth.

"I can..."

She mew'd, and dipped her head towards the ground, eyes staring down at it. She was still confused, and frightened. She was never frightened.

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Bad Romance

Froststorm blinked his invisible eyes, then looked back to the water's surface. He could see Needleheart's reflection but not his own. So strange.

The dead warrior was silent for a bit, then finally spoke. "Why did you call out for me?" he asked first, mewing calmly. He found that this was much easier to do when he was dead. As a living cat, it was rare for his voice to shift out of a growl. It was as if death had giving him a sense of peace, but that could only hold him for so long. "Did something happen to Ice? Or you?" These were the most important questions. If anything happened to either cat, there would be no hope, and Froststorm would be forced to relinquish his thirst for Riddlestar's blood. Ice needed her.

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The cream-colored she-cat could tell where he was, which side he was on of her. She wanted to lean against him, but only to have herself fall straight on the ground.

Heat poured out on her skin beneath her fur, getting up slowly. She felt embarrassed even more, and her paws scuffled.

Then the question came out, the question if something was wrong.

"Me.. Something is wrong. I am so... so... confused..."

She slipped out, and she slapped her right fore-paw against her cranium.

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Inside Your Mind

Froststorm stared down at her with narrowed eyes when she fell into where his body should have been, feeling a cold rippled pass through him as she did so. Had she fainted, he wondered? That wasn't like the bloodthirsty Needleheart he depended on. He waited as she returned to her paws, feeling the waves of embarrassment come off her pelt, then listened to what she had to say.

He wanted to roll his eyes. That wasn't an answer. He parted his jaws to speak, then hissed when Needleheart lashed out at herself. "Leave that! Don't go about hitting yourself, that won't do any good. What would happen if you really hurt yourself? Everything would fall apart! What would I have left?" His eyes narrowed. She was too important to loose, crippled or not.

"Now, tell me what's going on. Without self-abuse."

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Those words hit her hard, a thorn screeching down in her cold-blooded heart. She felt horrible now, and she looked over at Froststorm, although it looked as if she was looking at a distant tree.

"S-Sorry.."

Then that question again. She winced, and sighed.

"Why am I so important, FrostStorm? Why do you even need me? I'm nothing! I'm useless, I know it!"

She said the wrong thing, she knew it, and she bit her tongue, but went onto talking.

"Thing is, I don't feel as if I am needed with you gone... I know Ice has you in him, I know it, but he doesn't need me. He already knows what he has to do, I already told him everything. What am I supposed to do now?"

She looked away, ears flat against her head. She felt embarrassed, even more than before.

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What He Did

Froststorm scoffed. "Useless? Needleheart, you're just as important to the plan as Ice is himself." He flicked his tail irritably. He couldn't afford to have her talking nonsense like this. "It's true that Ice will be trained by other cats, not just you, but you have something more important than training. You have to keep the thoughts in his head of what he was sent here to do. Otherwise he'll grow soft, change his mind, or forget, and then I'll be gone forever." The warrior was sure his eyes would be gleaming with the passion in his voice. It meant everything to him.

"If Ice looses his way, I won't be able to remain. All that will be left is his empty skull. You need to keep him on the path toward revenge, where his paws belong. Without you, Ice may as well fall over dead."

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Now NeedleHeart was even more frustrated than ever. Does FrostStorm not understand what she meant exactly? She wanted to be important, not just with the little "plan."

"Why can't I do it? Leave Ice be! I just... I just..."

She croaked, and got up, walking a bit farther away from him. She laid there, and sighed.

"Forget it."

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I'm Still Here

Froststorm growled in frustration. Why was she making this so difficult? What more did she expect from him? A pat on the back, a job well done? There was still such a long way to go! With his nerves prickling with tension, the ghostly tabby followed after her. "Needleheart, I'm dead. And when you're dead, you find that you can't just 'forget' things." He wished he would stand in front of her, to block her path and force a straight answer out of her mouth. But he couldn't, so the tom just sat next to her again.

"This isn't like you. Before, you were fierce and aggressive. What happened to that Needleheart? Can't you just give me a real answer? Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can read your mind." He needed the old Needleheart, not this emotional hurricane next to him.

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NeedleHeart's lips curled back in a snarl, and hissed. She looked away, at least, she thought she was. She didn't know, not at all. She just wanted to say it, how she really felt, but she knew she couldn't.

"I know that, FrostStorm!"

She snapped, and hissed.

"It doesn't matter what I think, you're dead. It shouldn't matter! Why do I keep thinking about you! Why do I feel as if I need you beside me with every little thing I do? Can you at least answer that for me, FrostStorm?"

She growled, and turned her head, hoping that she was looking at him.

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Watching You Watching Me

The tom stared at the fury in her eyes, for she had succeeded in looking the right direction, and felt himself at a loss for words. Feelings flickered inside his non-existent body. No, she couldn't... Could she? The tom didn't know what to say. He just hoped he had come to the wrong conclusion. She knew he was dead, after all. Froststorm tried to look away from her burning stare, past her head, so that he could speak.

"Needleheart... What are you saying?" He spoke slowly, trying not to jump ahead of her words. "You're alive. I'm dead. So, why, I ask? I don't know your answer."

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She merely narrowed her eyes, and looked away once more. She hissed, mostly to herself. She laid her head upon her fore-paws, brown eyes staring out infront of her, staring at the distance.

"You know what I'm saying, You know exactly. I can tell, I can just tell! Never felt like this before, and I want it to go away!"

She shook her head side to side violently, and sighed. She couldn't believe she was spilling all of this, but it was better than never.

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