Shortly after the depart from Asher, Nightstream was brought to a new twoleg's den. He was released as soon as the entrance was sealed, but the sleek tom immediately hissed and scratched at the twolegs, before sprinting away from them and dashing under a wooden thing. He curled up next to the wall and shook, eyes wide with terror. His heart pounded in his chest.

The twolegs tried to reach under and grab him, but Nightstream growled and clawed at their paws. The skinless, lanky paws were retracted from under the wooden thing and he heard a gasp of pain. But Nightstream didn't care; instead, he raised his head the best he could and yowled in hopes they'd take him back to Asher.

But to his disappointment and horror, nothing changed. All night he crouched under the large wooden object, eyes wide and his body cramping from staying put so long. He didn't dare fall asleep. He watched the shadows stretch across the room, bathing everything pitch black, and then watched as the faintest specks of light dappled the floor next morning.

Nightstream was starving by the time he saw the twolegs' ugly feet moving around again. He hissed whenever they neared his hiding spot. At one point they offered him food, but Nightstream refused to eat the weird, dry pellets they tossed to him.

   Another night and day passed. Nightstream still wouldn't come out from under the wood. He was so starved he didn't even feel hungry anymore, and his legs burned from lack of exercise. He could tell he was growing thinner and thinner, though he refused to eat anything the twolegs gave him.

   Nightstream was close to passing out when he flinched awake. A new twoleg was peering under the object at him. The twoleg's hollow, emotionless eyes make Nightstream's fur bristle.

He was tossed a sweet-smelling pellet, but the former warrior, once again, didn't eat.

The day after, a new cage was brought into the den.

Nightstream was somehow more scared than ever. He could smell the reek of a new cat in the air, and soon a fluffy gray face was eyeing him. Nightstream growled and hissed.

"Hello there!" The fluffy gray tom chirped. Nightstream only snarled.

"My name's Alexander. Why won't you come out? You're awfully thin." Alexander glanced over his housemate, looking distressed at Nighstream's horrid appearance.

"I want Asher back." Nightstream croaked out, voice weak and hoarse since he'd only hissed and growled in the past few days.

   Alexander ended up ignoring him too.

   Nightstream soon grew close to death. He could only utter a weak snarl when anything passed him, and he was too feeble to crouch anymore.

   One day, a twoleg reached under to grab him. Nightstream tried to claw the skinless paws, but he could only give gentle swipes. Though he kept twisting, doing his best to fight back.

   Terror coursed through his veins as the twoleg ushered him to a cage. From the corner of his eye he saw the entrance open.

   With a burst of adrenaline, Nightstream put the last bits of his energy into wriggling. The twoleg lost their grip on him and he scampered across the room. Just as they were about to close the door he darted out, already panting loudly.

   Nightstream half-ran half-staggered down the stone path, away from the den and away from all the horror inside it. He hadn't even gone a tree-length before he began to slow and stumble to a halt.

   Unable to run anymore, Nightstream pushed himself over to some bushes and collapsed. The leafless, thorny branches seemed oddly comforting as he closed his eyes, ignoring the roar of passing monsters.

Nightstream watched the stone path for a while. He was sure this would be his deathbed, starving under some bushes in the middle of nowhere, all alone. He hadn't imagined it like this. He always thought he'd die the death of a warrior, fighting for his Clan until his last breath. Maybe if he'd resisted a little more back on that patrol he wouldn't be in this mess, still be hunting and patrolling with his Clanmates. He was snapped from his thoughts when he saw another cat approaching down the path.

As it passed him, Nightstream tried to hiss, only giving a feeble wheeze and cough.

The cat turned. It was a black she-cat with dazzling green eyes.

"Oh my! My name's Holly. Come out here, I can't get a good look at you..." The she-cat murmured. Her voice was gentle and soft, like the coo of a bird. Nightstream wondered if it'd be the last voice he heard before death, then reluctantly shoved himself closer to her onto the stone path.

   Holly gasped loudly at his skinniness. She then mewed, "Wait here!" And took off running down the path. Nightstream watched her go, listening to the scream of passing monsters. His breaths were shallow and ragged.

The she-cat returned quickly, and with a plump squirrel in her mouth. She dropped it and nudged it towards the black tom. Nightstream didn't bother to ask where she got it, he just took a bite from it's haunches. As soon as he tasted it he wolfed down the rest of the prey, smiling slightly with his eyes closed. The meaty taste reminded him of PineClan, and for a moment he could almost smell the smell of sap and the feeling of running through the gigantic trees.

The night was spent with Holly running back and forth to who knows where, bringing Nightstream scraps of food. By sunrise he was strong enough to tell her his name and how he got into such a terrible state. But Nightstream still couldn't walk normally, and it was hard for him to even sit up for too long. He immediately began to regret not eating the weird twoleg pellets.

   "I know somewhere for you to stay." Holly smiled. Nightstream nodded, taking an unsteady step. She rushed to his side and let him lean on her for support, then led him down the path.

   Shortly before midday they had reached an old, worn down twoleg den. Holly seemed to know this place well as she immediately called out for somebody.

   "Bluebell! I have someone for you to meet!"