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| - “You’re looking no different than the last time I saw you!” the ginger cat turned her head up to see a familiar pelt she though had left the world forever. “Glad to know that I was appreciated,” she mumbled. The two cats waited in silence for a while, as scratched the dry mud with her claws. Finally she pulled herself up and looked at him curiously, “Aren't you supposed to be dead?” she asked him at last. “Aren't you?” “No,” she responded sharply. “And I am most certainly not dead, no matter what your ugly pelt might ever hope. But you,” her eyes glittered with curiosity, “I know that you are dead.” “I am dead,” he responded honestly. "But that doesn't mean I can’t appear to you.” “It means you shouldn't,” she sharply retorted before looking around curiously. “Where is the other one. I have heard that he has been killed too.” “You have heard lies, I thought you should know. Starclan does make miracles, as I am sure you are perfectly aware.” “You mean they could bring him back from death but they couldn't bother to come and find me? When I did absolutely nothing at all?” “I wouldn't say you did nothing. You tore them apart and you only further loosened the thin and feeble threads that connected them.” She snarled, “There never even were threads between them.” “Anyways,” the tom sounded a little bored. “I thought you should know that they are coming. Soon, you might end up seeing them.” “Am I allowed to rip their pelts into shreds?” “Starclan doesn't tell you what you can’t do,” he claimed, “but I wouldn't advise taking down a pack of strong and resistant cats.” “What do you know?" she sneered. “You are dead.” “I am wiser than you,” he claimed with a little glitter in his eyes. “But beware of the fact that you can affect these cats. You can ruin them, if you try.” She narrowed her eyes, “Then they must prepare to become ruined.” With a sad sigh, the starry cat slowly began to fade back, away from the world of existence.
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