The rain meant that StarClan was crying.

At least, that was what he’d been told, and he’d never learned anything that refuted this claim. So, StarClan was crying. That made him sad. What was there to cry about? To be up there was to be free, far away from anything that could possibly make them sad. They had all the stars and the sky and the sun up there. They must know something he didn’t. Were they sad that they weren’t down here? But it was probably so much cooler up there in the clouds.

Wait, but when there weren’t any clouds in the sky, where would they stand? This line of thought felt familiar. Maybe he should ask someone who knew more about the world. Surely they’d know how StarClan stayed up there when they passed. But it was really dark out, so he’d have to wait until sunrise, when everyone was awake—

Where was he.

This was not the camp. Or anyplace in the territory he’d been before. This stretch of trees was unfamiliar. And it was dark. And quiet. He hadn't noticed how quiet it was before.

His head whipped to and fro, trying to spot anything identifiable. Rain rolled off his whiskers, spattered onto the damp undergrowth. How did he get here? Did he get lost in his head again? Oh, he was going to be in so much trouble when he got back. His heartbeat picked up in his chest, rattling his ribcage. What should he do? Fur fluffing up against the rain, lowering his head, he took in a breath. The rain blurred out most of the scents, but he could just barely detect something—a bad smell. Something that spelled danger. Where was it coming from? He couldn’t tell, the scents were all muddled.

So he picked a direction—anywhere was better than here, probably—and started walking, this time uncomfortably, horribly present in his own fur. It really was so quiet. Wasn’t the rain supposed to be a little louder than this?

He didn’t hear the lumbering footsteps in the distance, the crack of a twig underfoot. He didn’t hear the voices in a language he couldn’t understand.

He didn’t hear the click of something wholly unnatural. No, he didn’t hear anything—

—not until those metal jaws snapped around him. He yelped, voice shrill with fear. Clawed against the grates of the cage. Pressed himself into the corner, tried to hide. But there was nothing Morningpaw could do.

It kept raining.