He'd been lost in a dream. Sometimes, they felt more real than the strange life the cat led. They felt like they were what life should have been, and not the isolated cold that it was now. Dreams where he was with friends, the Gembounds from the wedding, and they were in a place he'd never seen before, but a place that always felt home. Dreams that he knew their names and what they would say, and they were in the grass, and in his dreams he didn't care about rocks or structures or building things, he only cared about the way he was loved, and the sky.
The sky. He never knew what the sky was. There was an inherent answer deep within him, luke a secret that had been embedded in his core. A secret he could only unlock and experience in his subconscious. His dreams, that was where each figment of a memory unraveled and reveled in its truest nature, brightest, clearest, it was the only place those memories were new and distinct again. Memories that existed beyond his memory. Dreams of dreams. The sky was but a lie his ever learning mind had crafted, or so he'd thought; but deep down, he wondered if it was real. If maybe he had seen it before in some journey predating his birth. Maybe it was hardwired into him through the benitoite. Maybe the answer lay in the stone.
If that was the case, then the cat feared his answer would be lost to the ages. Faelon held a stone like his. They were brothers, two halves of a whole, and Bartos wondered if instead his brother saw visions of a journey. A journey with no destination - that was Bartos' secret. Alas, his truth would never come. He chased it while his friends sat in the grass, and he sat too, staring. Learning. Watching fickle nebulae spin blue thread in the cosmic maw above as stars twinkled, their light shifting and dancing away from him. Clouds occasionally drifted past.
Bartos, it whispered. He furrowed his brow and rolled to his feet, and the sky suddenly felt vaster, closer. His eyes swallowed it whole and it gripped him, he was lost in oblivion - Bartos, the voice echoed endlessly. Her voice was but a quiet recollection in the back of his mind, enveloping him in darkness until he felt the light of the cave lights press against his eyelids. He was suddenly so aware of where he was, and he desperately gripped the images burned in his skull, the memories, the sky, but as he opened his eyes it was gone. In its place was his den and his hoard of gems and a voice quietly beckoning him from below, solidifying a once fluid believe that his real life was a distant afterthought - no, the dream was, the dream of the dream. Bartos rose and slowly peeked his head over the ledge where he beheld the pristine doe, and he grinned down at her, albeit with some still sleepy confusion. "Oh! Hi Clover," His words broke through a yawn and his voice near instantly brightened. The cat withdrew from the ledge, lazily descending the narrow path towards her.
(537 words)