| abstract
| - "Moments" is the thirty-second single released by Hamasaki Ayumi and her nineteenth number-one single. It came out March 31, 2004. "Moments" was the first single in 2004 released by Hamasaki. The single debuted at the number one spot for the daily, weekly and monthly Japanese charts and went on to sell over 310,000 copies throughout its release. "Moments" was also featured on the album My Story, which came out in December that same year. There were two versions, a CD only, and a CD+DVD version. Moments was Ayumi's first single to be released in two versions, all of her singles since have been released like this.
- MOMENTS - A league table An mendicant knows that life is best served my acting in the moment: the squint eyed rouge's sizing up of the curvature and gape of the pocket; the con-man reading the posture of the bystander for a flicker of susceptibility; the eyes left, eyes right which inevitably follows the observation of keys-left-in-ignition-half-eaten-sandwich-on-the-passenger-seat. The Tavistock Society knows all about the importance of the moment, and you, the lucky punter, you have been chosen to receive the munificence of our infos. Concern for the future or shame about the past is a concern reserved exclusively for the (successful) bourgeois. The Society has no need for such pleasantries. It would be a little like teaching manners to a Belgian – a work which can only be carried out by rote. A wearisome burden to us, another convention tied around the societal neck, dragging our posture ever lower. Balls to this. Here is a league table of moments: not for your pleasure mind you, but for your benefit. Due to a lack of ball(s) on the Secretary's part, this moment may never come. Insert coin. Turn the steering wheel to select 'Splash Wave'. This is vital. Without this the exhilaration will fail to reach the desired PEAK. Now wait. Wait until the flag descends, the green light is illuminated, wait until this perfect second; and stamp on the accelerator. Smoothly off the line, flying forward towards the vastness of the horizon. Eyes down to the rev counter. Wait until the split second that it passes into the green section and hit the switch to Hi gear. Now we are blasting forward. We hit 270km/h before the first corner, a gentle lean to the left. Feather around, the traffic is all on the other side of the road. The next gentle right is also clear. Stay in the middle of the widening road. Blast left and left, always in the middle, avoiding the other racers. Two more corners without difficulty. Now we get to the quick. Squeeze between the truck and the Beetle. Flat out all the way, but hold! Approaching the chicane loosen the throttle by the slightest shade, and blast through the 'S'. Left, Right, Left. Practice o' my apprentice, practice this well. Lean to be bold, aggressive, even though the road raises up and obscures the exit from the complex. Learn how to be brave, determined. Learn the true meaning of speed, refracted through the eternal crystal known as OUTRUN. Now we blast towards our goal. Take the right hand road at the fork. You may encounter lorries; never mind this minor hassle. We shall spear past them like light from the heart of supernovae, illuminating the endless voids. One final bend, right again. You can almost taste the anticipation of the line. It is time to Extend Play. Acceptable. You have completed the first stage with over 20 seconds to spare. Now you are becoming an OUTRUNNER. Considering all types of moments, for some it remains hard to pinpoint the most dangerous one. This can be surmised from the many requests for clarification we receive on a weekly (three to seven day period, depending on the inclusion of nap time) basis. Most queries somehow relate to relationships of the same type: of hairy men with women, of bald boys with women, and of tall men with women. Before the problem proper can be analysed, please keep in mind the following preliminary considerations: 1. Bald men should know better than to engage in any form of contract, formal or other, with women, or men for that matter (so as to exclude the homosexual loophole), 2. These relationships can be plain, or can have sesame seeds, perhaps even onion flakes, 3. Contracts, however, can be drawn up – if consideration No. 1 seems unfeasably harsh to you – by our Secretary, who has the necessary experience (of FAILURE) in these matters (he will impart this to you through a multitude of shaftings; therefore you must burn said contract as soon as you are able to escape from his office/torture chamber. He will charge such an ugly fee as to make you reconsider your desire/drive), 4. No matter how many times you reread this page, and no matter how much you secretively stare/ensnare (The Intern's day job), you will FAIL. By now, you should have realised that the most dangerous moment is NOW, since your eyes are reading – thus failing to watch your own back. Which is what you should be doing at all times, even when she says she will look out for you too, as she ‘won’t forget that you were there to comfort her in her moments of grief’ (beware of this crying, as in fact all it really is, is frustrated ambition (or the loss of a pair of new shoes), which resolves itself often in a wetting-of-your-shoulder). If you find this misogynistic, you have FAILED, through naivete or feminism. Further, if you haven’t realised which moments are dangerous, how will you ever know when the MOST dangerous one will occur? As we feel generous to such poor souls as yourself, let us resolve your quest with the following formula: 1. Draw up a list of your weaknesses, [delete as appropriate: find a high building, climb it, then jump], buy a newspaper, do the crossword, 2. Next, count the number of empty squares of the unfulfilled crossword, multiply them by your age and subtract the number of hairs you lost last night, 3. Finally, multiply by the number of balls you still have (or delude yourself to have). 4. [Addendum as per the Treasurer's advice]: having no balls may undermine the above formula mathematically, however, in the dirty light of day, having no balls is fatal anyway (if you didn't figure that one out, you have again FAILED) 5. This objective score represents the maximum number of days you will be dating/married to the special one in your life. Explanatory notes to the formula: 1. If you think you can cheat by feigning crosswordly incompetence or, inversely ‘genius’ (in the manner of the Treasurer, who thinks he can beat reality by clever accountancy (in fact always aided and abetted by a machine)), or other ruses (the ‘French bargain’ comes to mind: trying to sell yourself as a Frenchman – in these isles a short-term strategy at best (what sort of man can properly keep this up for long (of course, the husk of a bald man could theoretically be this desperate (however, the formula accounts for delusion by inclusion of the count of one’s ball(s)))), then you have FAILED again, 2. The ‘special one’ may simply be Mother, 3. In the latter case, you could conceivably stick to your list of weaknesses, or better, hand it to her. She won’t help you, one way or another. If you consider all of this to be hogwash, and you deign yourself mathematically too gifted to trust this formula at all, you most certainly lack the 'romantic' skills, which forced you to read this prophetic epistle in the first place. This naturally disqualifies you from any criticism of said formula. Now, there is a second set of simple rules, which apply if you are neither bald nor tall, but still have an urge to find out about the most dangerous of moments. When in said relationship, you ought to constantly consider your options: 1. Perhaps the ‘French bargain’ is not what the above, seemingly clear and distinct definition claims, 2. Games which include the use of nuts are an allegory for life (a full nut is simply a nut, anything less fodder for lesser people. Ask yourself this question: do you have to insist on being a half-nut/wit? Consider the level of failure), 3. Who knows www – not the world wide web, but ‘what wenches want’ (certainly not an excuse to act out and buy a roofless, a la mode sporting motor car. That is common), 4. For those of you who have read this far, we feel guilty enough to reveal to you what you may have heard through the grapevine: beware of the moment she gets a job/changes jobs/or moves away from you to join the French Foreign Legion (she is probably a man and seeks harsher training). 5. You will be known by your remaining 'friend' (the little man inside your pulverised brain) to have lost the war once you accept to properly organise your allocated sock and underwear drawer (to put it metaphorically: it is like arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. Better tell the ship’s orchestra to do that for you. Their playing was horrendous anyway (we listened to several recordings). The icy water of castration will eventually welcome you. Better jump than be pushed. Etc.). There is a decent chance she will break up with your personage. In conclusion: you can’t really anticipate the Most Dangerous Moment until it hits you in the soft intestine. Therefore, one last piece of advice: 1. Stroke your moustaches, 2. Or do the decent thing, buy a wig, cover yourself up, 3. And stop running away from your problems.
- "... and as a part of this treaty, neither one of our Clans will come near each other," Dovestar recited in her usual monotone voice, bleak gray eyes surveying the assembled cats. Wolfpad felt a unique, nearly uncontrollable urge to rip off her head as she continued, "That means no talking, no interaction whatsoever. In between our individual borders will be about thirty tails of open space where no cat is to go. That should ensure that there are no 'chance meetings'. Anyone caught violating these rules will be severely punished." So now that they've come up with this ridiculous "treaty", they're waging war on us? Wolfpaw wondered incredulously. They're going to punish us violently for violating their stupid treaty? Across the assembly, his eyes locked with Frostfur's. Panic fluttered beneath her long lashes. She was IceClan. He was FireClan. The treaty forbade them to ever meet. Dovestar's voice continued to drone on in the background, and Wolfpad fully tuned out the FireClan leader - his Clan leader, his whole mind absorbed in the task of thinking of a loophole. There had to be some way. Some way for them to be together. But he couldn't find one. He wished he could just shut everyone else out, just be with Frostfur, but he couldn't. Love was powerful, but, as he was just finding out, it couldn't do everything. The whole thing was stupid. Everything. Every stinking bit of it. From the whole war between Coldstar, leader of Iceclan, and his deputy, Doveflower(now Dovestar of FireClan). And the part where he got roped into FireClan. Absolutely insane. "Now, we agreed to let you guys say your good byes- we understand that this used to be one Clan, so there might be some cats you would like to formally part ways with," Coldstar said. Though his tone was kind. Wolfpad was sure he didn't mean it. No one could split up families like this, call it fair, and pretend to be kind. None of that mattered right now though. Right now, he had been given a sacred opportunity. The chance to spend a few more minutes with Frostfur. To anyone ese, it would've seemed ridiculous, lovesick, and pathetic. But no one else had loved like he and Frostfur did each other. "Wolfpad!" Turning, he saw her racing towards him, beautiful in a bittersweet, half-comical way, with her long fur whipping back and her short legs pumping over the ground. She collided with him in a flurry of snowy fur; it got in his face and tickled his nose, but for once he didn't care. It smelled like her, everything floral and sweet and springy. "Frostfur," he whispered. "Frostfur... the treaty... we can't..." "I know. I know," she replied, dropping her gaze. "What are we going to do? I'd say one of those corny lines, like 'you'll always be in my heart', but..." "That's not enough," Wolfpad finished. "I know. I need you. All of you." He pressed his flank against hers, licking her on the ear. Discouraged, she turned away, eyes fastened on the empty sky, as if it could give her answers. "But we can't. They'll kill us, you know. Maybe not the first time we're caught, but eventually." Wolfpad was silent. "Leave the Clans?" he whispered in her ear. She stiffened against him. "But Wolfpad, my family." Letting his eyelids slide closed, he nodded, his chin touching the top of her head; he never got tired of how much shorter she was than him, how tiny she felt against his frame. "I know. I just, I need to find a way, Frostfur. We need to find a way. Because I can't pretend." They stood like that for a long time, him with his eyes closed, her with her face buried in his neck. Around them, families congregated, parting with anything from long, tearful good-byes to nonchalant "see you laters". Neither of them noticed any of it. "So what now?" Wolfpad asked gently. "We need to come up with an answer. Time is running out." "I know that," she half-snapped, her tone telling him she was angry- not at him, but at the world in general. He bit his lip hard. "We could try it. Secret meetings. Find somewhere safe. Maybe the stream, at the corner of the border. They couldn't scent us there." He was groping at feathers flying in the wind, trying to come up with something to hold onto. Something that wouldn't fly away. "We could," she agreed tiredly. Wolfpad knew she was thinking that it was only a temporary fix, a wild card that would expire as soon as they played it one too many times. Covering her tiny, tufted paw with his massive one, he murmured, "Hey. Don't be so blue. We'll get through this." That special little smile he loved so much played across her lips. "I know we will, Wolfpad." Wolfpad listened to her heartbeat, so precious and delicate and alive. He wanted to protect it so much. He would fight anything to protect her. But this was different. This was his own Clan. His family. He couldn't fight it in any way he could think of. "You're shaking," he commented. "We'll have to leave soon," she returned. "Go to our own territories. We won't get to sleep with our tails twined tonight. What if I get nightmares?" she whimpered almost kittishly. "You won't. Just think of me." Wolfpad knew Frostfur's nightmares weren't any form of cowardice or silliness. When she was a kitten, her sister had been brutally killed by a fox, and ever since then she had been haunted by sudden flashbacks in her dreams. Ever since Wolfpad and her had started sleeping with their tails twined, she reported that the flashbacks had disappeared. And now they couldn't do that anymore. Just the thought of her, alone, terrified... it was enough to drive him mad. "Frostfur." "Mm?" she murmured, reaching up a single paw and touching it to his cheek. She was still shaking slightly; he could feel the unsteadiness in her touch. Leaning forward, he touched his nose to hers. "You're beautiful." Shying away from the compliment, she ducked her head. "Don't, Wolfpad." "Don't you remember?" he pressed. "The first words I ever said to you. And what were your first words to me?" Laughing in spite of herself, Frostfur repeated, "Don't." "Oh yeah, I remember!" he exclaimed, laughing himself. "They were, 'Get away from me, creep'! Which I certainly deserved, don't you think? Calling you beautiful! What was I thinking?" She burst out laughing, warming his insides with her peculiar yet adorable giggle. "Well, I hardly knew you at the time. You should've known better," she reprimanded. Smacking himself in the face with a paw, he groaned, "I obviously know nothing about she-cats. Apparently calling one beautiful is a chief offense." With a dainty sniff, Frostfur nodded and turned her pink nose up in the air. "Exactly." Wolfpad was still purring with hilarity when he noticed Frostfur wasn't laughing anymore. She was crying, he noted with shock. "What's wrong?" "I- I'm going to miss this," she sniffled. "Attention everyone. I suggest you hurry up your partings, because the Clans will be separating in five minutes," announced Dovestar, her austere features unfeeling and emotionless. "Frostfur," Wolfpad said speculatively. "What would you think of me if I ripped Dovestar's head off?" She gave a little gasp, then chortled a little, wiping away her tears. "Well, it'd be amusing the first time, but watching you do it nine times would get a little old," she said dryly. "I could be creative with it," he began. With a little shriek, she yelped, "Oh please no! I don't want to hear your 'creative' methods of ripping cats' heads off." "Fine, fine," he said with a grin. "Four more minutes!" Dovestar's voice rang out shrilly. Frostfur bit her lip hard. "Four more minutes, Wolfpad." He was quiet, gazing at her intensely. "I heard." "... three more minutes." Three. Wolfpad stared at Frostfur. All the romantic, meaningful words he'd been meaning to say caught in his throat like stale fresh-kill. The best he could muster up was, "I don't want to lose you." "I don't want to lose you either," she gasped. And all he could think was that this couldn't be happening. Not to them. Not now. If only there was some way, some way to go back to how things were. "Okay, well, I guess neither of us can say good-bye, can we?" Frostfur said in a semi-bitter tone. "Never. The day I say good-bye to you, I lose myself," Wolfpad replied vehemently. Something pained flitted across her gaze. "Don't you see, Wolfpad? We'll keep it up the first few meetings. Heads held high, pretending to be hopeful. And then we'll be caught, again and again. Our lives will be threatened. And we'll realize, we don't want this as much as we thought we did. We'll have adapted to life in our separate Clans, without each other. And instead of remembering all the good things about our relationship, all we'll remember is the hardships it caused us. I don't want it to end like that." Speechless for a second, he stammered, "W-what are you saying? Are you saying this is where it ends? Frostfur bowed her head. There was no way he could handle this. "Is... is this how little I mean to you?" Frustration and sadness mingled in her expression. "No!" she cried. "You mean the world to me! I just... I don't... What we have is so precious to me. I don't want it to end up broken." "So you'd rather break me," he said quietly. Anguish-ridden, she brushed her cheek against his, her silken whiskers touching the tip of his nose and making him sneeze. "No, Wolfpad. You know that's not true. Can't you listen to me?" "I can, I can try, but I'll never understand why you're giving up on us." Tears gathered again at the corners of her eyes. "Wolfpad, what else can I do?" He enveloped her with his front legs in a tight embrace, not ever wanting to let go. "We can make it work. Secret meetings. Moonlight rendezvous. Whatever it takes." "I'm scared. What if they catch us?" Wolfpad didn't reply. He couldn't force her to do something life-threatening if she didn't want to. "But I'm in." "... one moment left. One moment!'" Dovestar said. She and Coldstar began gathering their Clans. "By the stream at moonhigh? Does that work?" Wolfpad asked desperately. Dovestar tapped him on the shoulder briskly, not even glancing at him. "FireClan warrior, come on, stop dawdling. You've had your time to say good bye." Resisting his rather bloodthirsty urges, Wolfpad waited for Frostfur's reply. "Yes. See you there." Four words uttered in a tiny moment of time, before time was up and they were whisked away from each other. "I love you, Frostfur!" he yelled as he hurried to catch up with the FireClan cats. "I love you too," she answered, before turning and padding after Coldstar. At least he'd told her, one last time. Because she was right. Even though they had agreed to meet again, this felt like the end. It felt like good-bye. Their secret meetings were just attempts at keeping their romance alive. No. I can't believe that. I have to trust in this, or it will fail. Except he couldn't find strength to trust in it. Not without Frostfur by his side. "Now," Dovestar began as the FireClan cats began heading towards their new territory. "Thanks to the treaty, we get part of the stream - up until the rock-pile - and most of the woods. IceClan is taking the plains, their share of the stream, and the valley. We lay down borders tomorrow." She was saying this so casually, as if this "treaty" to supposedly stop the war and bloodshed wasn't causing Wolfpad more misery than battles ever had. Except that time Frostfur had gotten hurt- "Any questions?" Dovestar asked, turning back to the FireClan cats and flicking her long gray tail. A scrawny tom named Fleetpaw raised his paw tentatively. "I have one! Um, where's our camp?" "Right this way," the leader replied with a smile so false it made Wolfpad's eyes hurt. "Since I'm your new leader, I really want you to get to know me - not as Doveflower, but as Dovestar, leader of FireClan. As your leader. I know none of you like being separated from your old Clanmates, but the division is neccesary if we're going to establish ourselves as individual Clans. It's the only way to do things. Maybe some day far, far in the future, we can be a little closer - Gatherings, even. But not now." Wolfpad glared at her stonily, judging if he could believe her. Chances were he couldn't. She was a liar and a cheat; that was the only reason she had forced Coldstar to come to a treaty in the first place. "And the camp is right this way. See how the ground slopes down? That'll serve as a good hiding spot; the camp itself is nestled in a corner of the ravine. It has such a narrow entrance- it's almost like a secret cove. Coldstar didn't even know about it when it was on his territory, so we'll be perfectly fine." Maybe. But all of our territory used to belong to Coldstar, so he's perfectly able to find us if he wanted to, Wolfpad mused to himself. The newly-named FireClan cats trotted into their new camp, ducking through the narrow tunnel entrance. Once they had arrived, a chorus of oohs and ahhs filled the place. With impressive arching stone walls for protection and plenty of scrub for cover, it did look like a camp. More importantly though, it looked nothing like the old IceClan camp. Which could mean either of two things. One, he'd be able to live his life without thinking of its parallel in IceClan. Or two, the absence of everything he knew and loved would only make him miss it more. Around him, his new-old Clanmates were milling about, gasping, "Here's the apprentices' den for sure!" or "The elders will enjoy resting under this big bush!" Not feeling in the mood to participate in their almost follied settling in party, Wolfpad found the most reclusive corner he could, tucked his legs under him, and closed his eyes. As soon as he did, Frostfur's face burst before his eyelids like a blossoming flower in spring. Despite the pain it caused him, he held onto the image. Her wide blue eyes, high cheekbones, large & delicate ears. Everything so familiar to him. "Why couldn't I stay in IceClan?" he whispered to himself. Or, a better question: Why did the Clan have to split up in the first place? Dovestar. The hated she-cat was perched atop a little flat rock in the middle of the camp, supervising while everyone else set up dens and tried to organize themselves. Wolfpad watched detachedly. He didn't feel like a part of FireClan, so he wasn't going to help out. At least, not until he was forced to. Perhaps thinking like that was kittish and foolish; Dovestar would catch onto his behavior quickly. But all he could really think about was Frostfur, and he didn't really care about anything else right now. "Wolfpad." Looking up, he saw the newly-elected deputy of FireClan, Pricklenose, standing over him. "Lying about in corners helps no one. Find something to do." The brown tabby marched off. From nearby, a sympathetic-looking she-cat Wolfpad recognized as Nightshimmer walked over. "Don't worry about him. He thinks he's all that just because he's deputy, but the only reason he got the position is because he's one of the only cats who doesn't not-so-secretly hate Dovestar." Cracking a smile, Wolfpad stood and stared at his idle paws, for a second remembering the feel of Frostfur's paw under his. "Thanks, Nightshimmer." "I saw what happened," she said shyly. "With Frostfur. I know how it feels. Frostfur was my best friend - she and Redpoppy. But now both of them are in IceClan." Redpoppy. Yes, he remembered her, a cheerful she-cat who was always hanging around with Frostfur and Nightshimmer. Well, he had one thing to be glad for; Frostfur wouldn't be completely alone in IceClan if she had Redpoppy. "We'll stick together," he promised Nightshimmer. "You and us FireClan rejects." Flicking her ears amusedly, she nodded. "All right then. Not sure about the reject part but," she chuckled. He grinned. "Oh right, forgot that Miss Nightshimmer isn't a social outcast like I am." Her face grew serious. "What are you and Frostfur going to do?" Taken aback by the question, he lowered his voice and whispered, "Why, hold secret meetings of course. We're having one tonight." He could see it in her face, all the doubts and worries he had himself. But all she said was, "Make sure neither of you get hurt. I'll have to kill you if anything happens to Frostfur. Oh, and can you ask how Redpoppy is?" "Sure," he mewed. "Thanks. I'd better get back to work- and you should too. You don't want Dovestar to hate you before you even start the secret meetings." Realizing he was right, he padded over to where a group of cats was filling in the roof for what was going to be the nursery. "How can I help?" "Ah, Wolfpad," Pricklenose said, turning. "You've finally gotten off your hind-end and decided to do something, I take it? Well, you can go over to that pile of branches and start bringing them here. Careful now," he added with a smirk. "There are plenty of thorns you need to watch." The deputy had obviously given him the most uncomfortable task on purpose. "Right, okay." He padded over to the pile and picked up a few, grimacing at the sharp pinpricks of pain the thorns gave him. And so it went, back and forth, load after load, till his mouth and paws were too numb to feel the little thorns anymore. No one else seemed to notice the bleakness and lack of vivacity in his movements. In spite of Nightshimmer's kind words, he felt completely alone in his heartbreak and misery. No one could listen nor understand what he was going through right now. "All right, that's it for the nursery," Pricklenose said with satisfaction. "Good work, everyone. Take a break now. I'll go report our success to Dovestar." Slumping to the ground, Wolfpad closed his eyes and tried to fight back the tears welling beneath his eyelids. Back when IceClan had been whole, before Doveflower had become deputy and everything changed, he would never in a million years dream that it would end like this for him and Frostfur. Torn apart by Clan leaders and a measly treaty? His younger self would've scoffed at the very idea. Been ready to fight any cat who dared challenge him. Now Wolfpad would do anything for that youthful cockiness. But he couldn't return to that version of himself. He knew better now. He knew how many cats would be needlessly hurt if he tried to fight the treaty. Heck, he might even start the war again. The only thing he could look forward to now was nightfall, when he and Frostfur would meet by the stream. Despite the air of tragic hopefulness that pervaded their entire harebrained scheme, he was looking forward to it. At least he could see her again. Sneaking out of camp proved much easier than he had thought. Everyone was completely tuckered out from all the repairings and work of the day, and not one cat stirred as he slipped out of the cove and bounded towards the stream. It took him a little bit, following it downstream, but he finally glimpsed her, a blur of white on a patch of grass. Jerking his head, he mewed, "Let's get in the stream, to cover up our scent. That way they can't tell if we crossed the border." "Are you crazy?" she said, though it came out as a purr, as if just the sight of him was enough to make her happy. "We'll catch our death of a cold." He took a moment to ponder that. "Stepping stones?" In response, she hopped onto one of the smooth flat rocks that littered the shallow part of the stream. He followed suit, jumping from stone to stone till they were on the same one. Bathed in moonlight, they paused to just take each other in, a few inches apart. "I know this sounds crazy, but I've missed you." "I have too," she murmured, half to herself. "How is everything there?" "Fine," he said. "Or, as fine as they can be given everything that's happened. We set up camp and stuff." She nodded. "Our camp seems so empty now, with half the Clan gone. Tell Nightshimmer that Redpoppy and I miss her." "She misses you guys too," he replied, licking her on the ear. Frostfur gave a sly little smile. "Wolfpad," she whispered. "I have some good news." For some odd reason, though he didn't know what the news pertained to, Wolfpad felt his heart speed up. "Yes? Spit it out, Frostfur." "It appears we're not alone in wishing IceClan never split up," she said vaguely. His eyes widened. "Who's with us?" Obviously enjoying herself, his mate licked a paw and drew it over her brow, taking her time. "Oh, you know..." "Frostfur, much as I love you, I am willing to push you in the stream," he threatened. "And even your fluffy white coat won't save you from the cold." Bursting out laughing, Frostfur touched her nose to his, whispered, "Coldstar's going to battle Dovestar again," and frisked away, landing with all paws in the shallows of the stream. Totally stunned, Wolfpad could only sit there. It was too good to be true. "Coldstar's going to what?" "Try to reform IceClan. The treaty is null and void," Frostfur said, eyes sparkling. "And..." "And we can be together," she finished. "If it works." This felt like the moment he'd been waiting a lifetime for - or rather, a day that had felt like a lifetime. "We can be together," he repeated numbly. "If it works," she reminded him, but she couldn't help smiling either. "Do you know when Coldstar plans to attack?" he asked. She considered this a moment. "He said tomorrow at sunset. Do you think there are any FireClan cats who'll help?" "Nightshimmer, most definitely," he said. "And there must be others too. If we take Dovestar by surprise-" "-she won't stand a chance." Frostfur smiled, and he beamed back at her. Glancing up at the moon, Wolfpad curled his tail around Frostfur's slim body and nuzzled her gently. "Your pelt shines under the moonlight." Blushing prettily, her only response was to lick him on the cheek. "Wolfpad, in case it doesn't work..." "It will work," he said fiercely. He had hope now, and he wasn't going to let anything stand in their way. She relented, giving him a single nod. "Okay." "It will work." His tone was more gentle now, trying to persuade her to understand how desperately he needed to believe this. "Today was torture. There's no way I can last like this. IceClan has to form again, or I don't know what I'll do." As if she understood the urgency behind his words, she said, "Yes. Coldstar will conquer Dovestar this time, because he has the element of surprise. It might be a tiny bit unscrupulous to break the treaty, but Dovestar lied over and over again; without her dishonest trickery, she never would've stood a chance in the war." This time, it was her who placed her paw on his, a soft touch that quieted his nerves and made him feel completely relaxed. "We should go soon," Frostfur added quietly. Wolfpad shook his head, tightening his embrace on her. "Not just yet." Giving in, she melted against him, her pale form blending with his dark fur. "If Coldstar succeeds," she murmured dreamily. "It'll be like old times. D'you remember?" "Um... you mean a couple of days ago?" he asked tentatively. She purred. "No, silly. I mean before the war. Before Doveflower. Before everything. When it was just you and me." "Funny. I didn't know I was the creator of the world." Frostfur batted him on the cheek lightly. "You know what I mean, Wolfpad. When we were apprentices." Apprentices. Boy did that take him back- and not just to the time he got rejected by Frostfur for calling her beautiful. It took him back to everything. Kithood. Apprenticeship. From innocent childhood to awkward adolesence to what he was now. Whatever that was. A warrior, he reminded himself. A warrior who was about to fight against his "own Clan" to bring IceClan back together. And to bring the two sections of his heart together. "Do you remember that time you got punished for a week because you tossed a moss-ball at the deputy?" asked Frostfur with a small smile. He laughed. "How could I forget? You kept me company." "Rubbish. I just hung around you to gloat." She glanced at her paws. "I had a crush on you, but I didn't know what to do, so I just bothered you." Wolfpad grinned at her lovingly. "Well, I certainly had no problem showing I liked you- in the dorkiest manner possible." "So." "So." He bit his lip, not wanting to hear her next words. "I have to go now. See you soon." "At the battle," he said softly. She smiled. "At the battle." Cold ropes of dread harnessed Wolfpad's heart. Somehow, he had a sinking feeling about the battle all of a sudden. He'd been so looking forward to it as the thing that would bring everything back together. Now he wasn't so sure at all. "By the way," he said, in a desperate attempt to prolong their time together in any way, "is that rose I gave you still there? Beneath your nest?" Mist came over her eyes as she paused, remembering. "Why wouldn't it be, Wolfpad? That was the time it all started, remember? When you broke up with that ridiculous cat Brookpaw and chose me." "Brookwhisker," he corrected with a chuckle. "And I know she was ridiculous, I don't know what I saw in her in the first place." Purring, Frostfur stood and began making her way to the IceClan part of the stream. "Of course I still have the rose. I think about you every single night." "I do too," he whispered. "See you tomorrow. And may IceClan reunite," Frostfur said, eyes sparkling with determination and spirit in the moonlight. Feeling more dread than ever, Wolfpad nodded. He was numb, and not just because of the chilliness of the stream. This "feeling" about the battle was driving him crazy. If something happened to Frostfur... "I'll be ready to kick some FireClan tail," he joked with a grin, hiding everything he was feeling behind humor. It worked; she giggled a bit, waved her tail, and raced off into the shadowy IceClan woods. As for him, he sat by himself for several more minutes before heading back to FireClan territory. Hopefully, it would soon be IceClan territory. All of it. And everything would go well in the battle. He and Frostfur would be together again. Hopefully. "... and the treaty was all just a ploy. Coldstar's going to attack our Clan - Dovestar's Clan - and bring IceClan together. It shouldn't be too much of a battle I hope, since many cats will probably just give up immediately. But I don't know..." Nightshimmer nodded as he whispered rapidly in her ear; they were supposed to be on guard duty, and Pricklenose was watching them closely. "I'll tell anyone who I think will help," she replied with a flick of her ears. Gratefully, he smiled at her. "Thanks." Maybe they would get out of this unscathed. Sunset. Could this be considered sunset? Wolfpad studied the sun's position in the sky closely. It hadn't yet set, but it was sinking. Didn't that count? Where on earth was Coldstar? Dovestar sat outside, surveying her new Clan with her cold eyes. She didn't seem to notice that several of her cats looked dreary or even as heartbroken as Wolfpad had felt. She didn't seem to understand that by splitting up families and friends without any thought or regard, she had bought herself a deal with fate that would only come back to bite her. That was when he heard it. A slight rustle at the tunnel entrance to the cove. The IceClan cats had found it. Coldstar did know where the cove was- it had been on his territory, after all. Glancing towards the tunnels in a nonchalant manner, he spotted the leader's blazing cobalt eyes. For a second they locked gazes, and then Wolfpad turned away, sending the message that he was on their side. The moment when the IceClan cats exploded into the camp seemed to be in slow motion. He saw the blur of their pelts, all of them blending together like a collage. But he also saw each individual. Coldstar's fiery spirit as he led the charge. Redpoppy, her mouth open in a wild yodel of a warcry. Even Brookwhisker, racing along with her streamlined body close to the ground. And Frostfur, trailing at the back with her short legs, but every bit as determined to fight. Choked up, Wolfpad felt the ridiculous urge to make a speech. He wanted to thank the IceClan cats for coming, to thank Coldstar for never giving up. He wanted to scream "IN YOUR FACE!" to Dovestar. He wanted to slap Pricklenose across the muzzle. But there was no time for any of that. Because Dovestar was no fool. And she was on her paws already, calling orders. She and Coldstar met each other's gazes for a split second. Wolfpad met Frostfur's gaze, and he wanted to tell her everything he hadn't yesterday. Tell her to be careful. Tell her that- "Attack!" Confusion. That was really the only way to describe what Wolfpad had stepped into. There wasn't even a clear side. Nightshimmer clawed him on the shoulder, then reeled back in horror. "Sorry! I thought- oh, I'm so confused. We all smell like IceClan and..." She threw up her paws to encompass the entity of her frustration. "S'okay," he said, rubbing his shoulder and smiling ruefully. "Do you know what you're doing?" She kicked Pricklenose onto the ground. "Does it look like it? I'm just beating up random cats and hoping they're bad." "Interesting tactic." And look at the two of us, holding a little conversation in the middle of the battlefield. Ultimately, though, it came down to Coldstar and Dovestar. It was all on the two leaders. Spotting Frostfur in the crowd, he wrapped his tail around her and led her towards the center, where the two cats were facing each other. "Frostfur? You okay?" he asked, stepping away from her. Then he froze. Blood. All over his flank, wherever it had brushed hers. "Frostfur, what-" She collapsed against him. Wolfpad saw red. Turning his back on the important fight going on between Coldstar and Dovestar, he screamed, "Is there a medicine cat here?! I need a medicine cat!" Nightshimmer and Redpoppy raced over, eyes wide and jaws gaping. "Who did this?" Redpoppy gasped. "Could've been anyone really," Nightshimmer replied with a quiver in her voice. None of that helped now. Wolfpad was barely consicous of anything. Their medicine cat, Fernflight, gently nudged him aside and bent over Frostfur. "I don't know if she'll make it..." Everything was ceasing to be for Wolfpad. Nothing mattered anymore. He barely cared about IceClan even. All he wanted was Frostfur to open her eyes, to smile, to listen to him tell her he loved her. But that wasn't happening. He waited. And waited. And it didn't happen.
- Moments are pages in the story on Pottermore . Chapters are divided into one, two, three or four moments. In the last four books, there are several chapters that do not contain any moments. Most moments have three zoom layers. At this time there are a total of 204 moments on Pottermore - 43 in the first book, 45 in the second book, 39 in the third book, 39 in the fourth book, 12 in the fifth book, 12 in the sixth book and 14 in the seventh book. Remarkably, the first two books contained more moments than the fourth and (especially) the last three books, despite containing significantly fewer chapters.
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