Days passed. Days turned to weeks, and by the fourth week, Lyre felt himself regaining energy for the first time in a long time.

  Throughout the past month, The three cats, who called themselves The Cats of the Stone Forest, left Lyre alone for the most part. They only had him clean out the hole where they kept their prey, which was contaminated from the half-eaten rabbit.

  He made his own make-shift nest; a pile of leaves from the bush. He stayed there, not paying attention to anyone around him as the memories of his family circled around in his head. He was still in shock from that strange thing that attacked him, which was still there, according to the bck cat.

  The fire finally went away by the second week, and Lyre had dragged himself out of his nest one day to power through the cracked stone area. The mist was also gone, he’d noticed. That was good, and bad, because the moment he had stepped onto the path that he walked along to get out of the grassnd, everything was gray. Bck, leafless bushes were scattered. Lyre dared to go back to where his old home was, but that was a terrible…terrible mistake.

  The first thing he’d seen were two rger piles of ashes next to a burnt bush. At first they were hard to distinguish from the other ashes, which made the former grassnd look like a beach. But after remembering his dream about the fire, he’d stared at the two piles.

  They belonged to Prairie and the white tom.

  And since their ashes were right where the dead bush was, Lyre had shuddered at the possibility of one of them accidentally getting their fur caught somehow in the bush. They were unable to escape as the fmes quickly closed in, and the other one stayed with them as they both burned alive.

  He’d crouched down, facing both of their ashes, and yowled mournfully for the next few hours until his throat began hurting. He’d only stopped because he didn’t want to lose his voice. While he cried, the ashes turned an even darker color from his tears.

  The second thing he witnessed was how untouched the rocks were…mostly. They felt scaly and rough. But when he hopped down them, he wasn't prepared for what he saw next.

  The real second thing- the first thing that caught his eye- was the forest. The barren forest of dead trees. From where he was, halfway down the rocky slope, he could see the aftermath of the fire. He could see the wolf den, but not its entrance. He could see the evaporated stream, and a long, thin dent in the ground that made random turns before leading somewhere far into the distance.

  Lyre then carefully stepped down onto the dirt ground, lifting small clouds of stray ash and dust up. He then stalked towards the giant rock, made a u-turn towards the right, and feasted his eyes on the third thing.

  Tragedy.

  First, a huge dead body id on its side in the clearing; a dark gray wolf. The ground was also carpeted in ash, and a blinding line of sunlight was screened against the dirt wall.

  Then, when Lyre spotted the stone-lined den directly in front of him, he noticed that there was a small dirt hole. The dry dirt was easy to move away, and there he saw the bck wolf and the reddish-brown wolf. Both of them looked like they were sheltering something. As Lyre prodded the bck wolf, he discovered the second part of the tragedy.

  That something shot up their head. They were covered in dried leaf bristles, and stared at him with grief-stricken light emerald green eyes. The wolf’s long tongue was lolling out from its mouth as its wheezing pants filled the silence.

  “Our home,” Root had whimpered.

  “Our?” Lyre was about to say when the bck wolf’s head rose slowly.

  The wolf coughed and hacked, then wheezed as if getting air into its lungs was a great struggle.

  Root had shuffled away from underneath their dead mother to prod their grandfather with a paw. As they emerged, they left evidence of barging into the entrance on their pelt, which was a bit torn. The bck wolf looked worse- not even its thick, long fur stood a chance against the combination of thorny bushes and thorny vines.

  “He’s dying.” Root cried softly.

  Lyre hesitated at that moment, suddenly remembering clear as day what he’d told Root that night.

  “Wolves and cats can never be friends.”

  As if remembering that statement, Root gave him a look. “Can’t we just put our differences aside and focus on survival? You know where to go…at least you’re not starving. Or dealing with a dying grandparent.”

  The bck wolf shook his head. “You mustn’t go with that fiend.” Even on the verge of inevitable death, the bck wolf let out his very recognisable low, guttural growl. “He killed our-” His coughs interrupted him.

  Lyre said something cruel in his head, then nudged Root. “Fine. But until I figure out what to do with you, you must listen to everything I say.”

  The bck wolf shot upwards as he snarled loudly, baring his sharp teeth, only to yelp in pain before colpsing back down. “No. Don’t take my only living pup away.” He struggled, but to no avail. He was forced to watch as Lyre saw the next words come out of Root’s mouth.

  “I will. I promise to obey you.” They carefully stepped over the bck wolf, then id won with their paws outstretched. “Goodbye, dear grandfather. I will miss you very, very much.” Root licked the bck wolf’s muzzle.

  The wolf sighed through his nostrils.

  Lyre met the bck wolf’s gaze one st time, and that time, as life drained from them, he managed to find an expression in them.

  Defeat.

  Lyre watched as Root murmured something in the reddish-brown wolf’s ear, then shook their coat. Once the two stepped out of the den, Lyre could really see just how visible Root’s ribs were. They lost almost all their muscle, and more outlines of their bones were showing. They followed him slowly, shakily.

  Both of their homes were gone, their family was gone, and that memory stayed with the two of them forever.

  When they returned, the three cats in The Stone Forest were initially scared of Root. But once they saw how thin and scrawny the wolf looked, they quickly overcame their fear. Only the Calico kept making snide remarks about Root’s appearance, and how the name suited them.

  Lyre still couldn't escape the restless nights. He kept nodding off, but wouldn’t fall asleep. It wasn't until the next few days after he’d returned from his journey to the grassnd that he could sleep, but his dreams would cut his rest short with pgues of nightmares and bad dreams that would make him wake up screeching or crying or with leaves scattered all over the pce.

  Memories of his family eventually became less sad and tear-jerking as the fourth week came. The stronger memories, such as the times when Splinter would comfort him, hit the hardest, and refused to let him be in peace.

  And then, once Splinter’s death had been a month ago, Lyre finally let go of the terrible violent memories. His dreams were still the same, but more peaceful and about accepting the fact that this was his new life now. Someday he’d have a new family- with whoever that may be.

  As for Root, they quickly regained their energy and was able to scare the Calico into respecting them. Their muscles hadn't been so lucky, however; nor have the other cats.

  Root had eaten every rabbit and hare that was caught, forcing the others to cut their diet to smaller rodents. It had gotten to the point that the cats even had to expand their territory deeper and deeper into the forest, where more pnts were stone.

  Now, in the present, Lyre was walking with the Calico and Root fnking him. Quartz and the bck cat had gone to the other direction, past the stone tree with exuding confidence that spread all the way over to Lyre himself. All this time, the past month during the worst of his grieving, the voice kept silent. It was a weird peaceful sense of tranquility Lyre didn’t know he needed until now. It almost always used to ring in his head, talking every minute and bad-mouthing Quartz and only Quartz.

  A sharp jab in the fnk tore Lyre’s attention to the Calico, who was staring at him through narrow, slitted eyes.

  He pointed his head towards a distant clearing that was completely stone; the grass, a stray mouse that had looked like it was running away from something, and even the st thing Lyre wanted to see.

  Lyre let out a slow exhale. “So,” he began, tail-tip flicking, “who calls going past that thing first?”

  The Calico rolled his eyes as he walked into the clearing. “You’re scared of everything in this forest, aren’t you?” He taunted as he strolled across the stone.

  Lyre took a cautious look around, sniffing at the edge of the clearing. He nearly flinched as Root bounded past him, the loud clicking of their cws faintly echoing off the stone. What in the world…? He never really cared about wolves, but this was strange.

  Shaking away the thought, he focused on what was currently happening. At least we might ‘ll end up finding some more food after this.

  Root went ahead of the Calico, only to slow down as he snapped at its paws. They looked down at him, eyes sparkling with awe. As his tail began shing, Lyre quickened his pace to but his head against their leg before the yearling could speak.

  Lyre was walking alongside Root with a grimace as the Calico stalked ahead, slowly decreasing his speed.

  His tail suddenly swished upwards, but Lyre and Root obliviously continued forwards. That was when Root let out a yelp as the Calico sshed their leg.

  Whatever was up ahead scuttled away, its silent cws scraping against the rock. Prey? Lyre thought as he lifted a paw. But the Calico whipped around to face him and the wolf.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” He hissed. “Clearly neither of you have any idea how things work around here. And thanks to your insolence, we now have to call off the hunt. Great job!” He shoved himself between the two of them and stormed back towards the direction of the fern wall and vertical trees; both of which no one has told Lyre about.

  The walk “home” was quiet except for the grumbling from the Calico. When they returned, Root began wandering the empty space while Lyre padded over to his nest. He stopped as he was intercepted by the Calico.

  “Get that thing over here. I obviously need to teach you two a lesson.” The tom let out a low growl.

  Lyre just sighed. I wonder if I could start leaving yet; for the most part, I’ve gotten over the worst part of my grieving. Yet he still felt the cloud of hopelessness rain down suffering onto him.

  With an impatient flick of his tail, the Calico yowled something, and Lyre watched as Root’s ears perked up. They trotted over to the two of them, head slightly lifted.

  “What’s up?” Their tail wagged happily.

  “Hunting lessons 101. When I swish my tail like this-” the Calico swished his tail in the same motion he did when he’d spotted something during the hunt- “ that means you stop. Alright?” He spoke slowly with a sharp edge of eternal strictness in his tone.

  Lyre nodded. “Understood. Though, didn’t you figure you could’ve told us before we left, once you knew you’d be stuck with us? After all, you know we came from…not here.” He made sure not to say too much; unlike the yearling, who was already starting to speak until Lyre leapt up and hit his paws against the wolf’s muzzle.

  The Calico sniffed. “Couldn’t be bothered. It’s your fault you chose to go here. And I don’t care if you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  It’s not that he won’t understand; nor that he doesn’t want to. He simply cares about the other two cats. After he nded, Lyre absent-mindedly scratched at the ground as the three sat in awkward silence.

  “You’re free to leave anytime you like.” Lyre felt the tom’s mocking smirk on his pelt. “Not like you of all cats would go far. I’ve seen you sat around all day and night. Losing your home isn’t that much of a big deal.”

  Lyre’s gaze sliced onto the Calico. “Watch it,” he warned as he felt a slow irritation start climbing up.

  Another thing he went through for the past month was the clear hatred the Calico was releasing onto him. There was no reason given; he only harassed him based on the low energy he called ziness. The worst part was the real reason he acted the way he was.

  “Leave him alone…” Root muttered underneath their breath.

  The Calico redirected his harassment. “What was that, mangy dog?”

  Root blinked at him uncomfortably as they tilted their ears back.

  “That’s what I thought. I don’t know why I started to fear you once your scrawniness went away. And look at you- you’re no different than a month ago.” He stood up on his hind legs and reached up to try and poke the wolf’s rib, which was invisible in the thick but short yer of fur. But Root just gently, carefully lifted a hind leg and kicked him away. He immediately fell backwards.

  “I want to know why you’re such a mean cat. Been my first time meeting someone like you.” They commented as they sniffed at him.

  Lyre gave his shoulder a few licks to hide his second-hand embarrassment. If only poor Root had something to distract themself with. He felt a pang of shame. If only that fire hadn't started. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he remembered the dream where he was back at the grassnd.

  Wasn't. His gut corrected him. Right- the heat of the sun, with the addition of the dried grassnd itself. Why didn’t I think of that being the reason why everything burned down in the first pce? Another part of him reminded him that it really started in the forest, and that chilly reminder came from a deep memory that resurfaced.

  He quickly shook his head to clear it, upset at both himself and the unnecessary conflicts the Calico would start with him. And Root wasn't making anything better.