What I've Done

“Keep up Whitepaw!” A harsh tone boomed from above four very young cats who were sparring in the confines of a sandy hollow not far from a stream murmuring stream. Large boulders surrounded them, a few of them covered in moss offering soft padded walls in case the apprentices were thrown against them. Others were not and it was more common that in the vicious sparring matches one would be thrown towards these unprotected rocks and blood would spill onto the sand.
The fore mentioned she-cat was currently picking herself up to her feet from where her sparring partner, Buzzardpaw, had thrown her against one of these perilous boulders. The tom across from her was much older, at least four moons than her, which was saying a lot considering the young she-cat was barely on the cusp of her sixth moon of age. Already two moons or so into her training as she was forced to start early. The little, slightly off-white she-cat had the faintest of tabby markings that seemed to flash silver when the sun caught them in just the right way. She almost blended into the sun bleached boulders if she stayed still long enough, only her gleaming blue eyes and pure white tail would’ve given her away. She tried to use this technique against Buzzardpaw, the large brown tabby tom though was used to this tactic and saw through it as he barreled into the long legged she-cat and sent her sprawling into the sand with a yelp.
“Enough!” The thundering voice was back and Whitepaw looked up to see an ivory colored tom with gray paws and piercing gray eyes glaring down at her. They might have been kin, but her uncle sent chills down her spine, making her fur stand on end.
'No wonder Seedflight likes him,' She thought as she wrinkled her nose at the thought of the Hazeclan deputy who currently resided in the nursery.
“What have you been teaching your apprentice Rowantooth?” The ivory colored tom snapped, glaring at an agile built tom a few boulders over from him. Rowantooth had calm amber eyes and a ruddy colored pelt that was red with hints or orange and brown in it.
“She is not built to deal brute force upon her enemy,” Rowantooth mewed steadily, glaring at the other tom. “It was your idea, Smokeclaw, to pair her with someone nearly double her age and her size with twice as much experience than her.”
“She should be able to handle it properly if she were getting adequate training,” Smokeclaw snarled, his claws scraping against the boulder beneath him and making Whitepaw flinch at the sound they made.
“Maybe if I wasn’t training a kit to fight for her life,” Rowantooth mewed in a cold, steely voice. “I would be able to train her properly to fight.”
The two older toms continued to fight and Whitepaw ducked her head, feeling as though the argument was her fault. She got to her paws and sighed, shaking sand and grit out of her fur as Buzzardpaw came over, giving her a friendly nudge on the shoulder before he sat beside her.
“Sorry for hitting you so hard,” He mewed, as he gave his chest a few swift licks, glancing at their bickering mentors. “Smokeclaw would have my pelt if he knew I took it easy on you.”
Whitepaw looked up at the older apprentice beside her who was easily twice her size. He had warm honey colored eyes that she had always been fascinated with, noticing the flecks of green and gold within their depths. “It’s alright, I just need to get better.” She said, trying to sound determined, though she just sounded more downcast than anything much to her disappointment. New-leaf had only just begun and the previous leaf-bare had been harsh, enough so that she had lost her mother and her siblings, Greykit and Blackkit, to greencough. She had been sick too, but had survived and pulled through with the help of Tatteredfall. As soon as she was well enough, Tornstar made her an apprentice despite her not being six moons old. She didn’t complain though, she didn’t have it as bad as others. Buzzardpaw had lost all of his kin and even his previous mentor, Wrenflight, and was given to Smokeclaw after her passing.
“Hey, Spottedkit and Tigerkit still think you’re the best contender for the tournament.” Buzzardpaw mewed, trying to sound cheerful as he bumped his shoulder against her's. “If you’re chosen that is, but that probably won’t happen until you are much older.” Buzzardpaw puffed up his chest a little and Whitepaw couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she flicked an ear dismissively. There were no other clans around here, at least there hasn’t been for a long time, so to make up for the lack of a Gathering each full moon Tornstar initiated a tournament between the apprentices. He would choose two and usually it didn’t matter if they were a new apprentice or experienced, though it was obvious he chose two of the older ones to provide better quality entertainment. The challenges of the tournament differed each time, from battles to hunting to a mix of both. Often times the victor would earn their warrior name if they proved themselves worthy enough. Within Hazeclan, it was a great honor to be made a warrior on the night of the full moon.
“Everyone knows you’re the favorite,” Whitepaw mewed as she looked up at Buzzardpaw who couldn’t help but puff up a little bit at her compliment. “You’ll probably be chosen to go against Shadowpaw or Harepaw.” The white she-cat dipped her chin to where the two other apprentices were across the way from them, conversing about the strategies they each used. They were both a little older than Whitepaw, but not quite as old as Buzzardpaw.
“Enough of this!” Smokeclaw finally growled, getting tired of his bickering match with Rowantooth. “Let’s get back to camp, you and your apprentice have a border patrol to go on soon.” He lashed his tail and leapt off his boulder and began weaving out of the dried stream bed towards the camp. Whitepaw and Buzzardpaw exchanged looks before padding after their stand-in deputy.
Seedflight, his mate and Tornstar’s littlermate, was Hazeclan’s rightfully named deputy but she was busy taking care of her kits, Spottedkit and Tigerkit. While she was nursing, Smokeclaw was taking on her deputy duties. Though, she would probably be returning to her position soon. Her kits were nearly three moons and after that it was only a matter of time until Tornstar made them apprentices.
It had been seasons since Tornstar became the leader of Hazeclan. He wasn’t that old of a warrior, but previous leaf-bares had been harsh and chipped away at the clan’s numbers bit by bit, each season taking a toll on the tom as he lost more fellow warriors and lcanmates. A few leaf-bares ago the clan lost its leader, deputy, and medicine cat all in devastating waves of greencough that swept through the clan with an unstoppable force. Tatteredfall, an elder at the time, had to step up despite her failing eyesight and hearing to fill her former position. She has been doing her best, but her connection with Starclan has weakened over time. Unable to see a sign for a new leader, Tornstar stepped forward and at the time no one knew how malicious he was and welcomed his leadership with open paws. Having abandoned most of the Warrior Code and calling Starclan nothing but a tale for kits, he began his long rule of tyranny by making kits apprentices as early as three moons, but only if he deemed them fit or worthy enough. If he saw any sign of weakness, they were disposed of. A few seasons ago, a queen by the name of Honeyspots had a litter and her mate Beechwhisker had protested when Tornstar tried to make them apprentices. As punishment, he sent them into the forest for five days to survive on their own. If they made their way back to camp or were recovered alive after five days, they could rejoin the clan and begin their training. Rumor has it that after days of searching, they couldn’t even find a scent trail for the two kits. From then on, the threat has lingered over everyone’s head. Protest or speak out and you face exile or extermination.
Whitepaw must’ve been making a face because Rowantooth padded up beside her and looked down at her with a warm, calm gaze. “All will be well,” He mewed softly as he laid his tail lightly on her flanks and she gave a weak smile. “You have nothing to fear young one, I’ve made you as prepared as I possibly can.”
“I know Rowantooth,” She mewed as she sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I’m just worried that when my time comes, I won’t be ready.”
The ruddy colored tom smiled and gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder. “What on earth are you talking about?” He mewed, eyes twinkling. “In every practice we’ve had you’ve adapted quickly to the situation and you always show such excellent signs of your learning skills. Before you know it, you’ll be able to defeat even Buzzardpaw. You never know, your tournament may not even be fighting.”
Whitepaw forced out nervous laughter as she shivered at the thought of her tournament. “There’s already been enough battles, Tornstar is getting bored with them I think.” She mewed almost hopefully. Battle tournaments were their leader’s favorite and what he had the most of, but the young she-cat couldn’t help but feel a flutter of hope hers might be hunting or tracking, something she excelled in.
The older warrior suddenly looked concerned and his face became shadowed as he looked away. “Well,” He mewed, clearing his throat. “Let’s hope he doesn’t try to find a way to make them more interesting again.”
Whitepaw wanted to ask what he meant but they reached the opening between two large boulders that leaned against each other with thick underbrush and closely knitted together tree trunks on either side. The gap was mostly hidden by a bramble thicket and the clan cats each took a turn wiggling their way through the thorns and through the gap between the boulders into the camp. Whitepaw waited her turn patiently and her small frame easily slipped through into the clearing beyond where she was greeted by a bright, airy clearing with soft grass covering the ground. On the far side of the clearing a boulder pile was surrounded by sand where the old streambed made its way through the camp. In this part of the stream bed that cut through the camp a small babbling ribbon of water pooled under the largest boulder. It offered constant water to the clan and the boulder was where Tornstar addressed the clan and watched training apprentices or tournaments in the sandy area that surrounded the area.
“Whitepaw!” a shrill voice cut through the air making others jump.
The young apprentice turned only to be bowled over by Spottedkit and Tigerkit. The two were joined by Eaglekit and the apprentice couldn’t help but giggle as their tiny paws kneaded eagerly at her fur as they climbed over her.
“How was training?” Spottedkit babbled eagerly, her green eyes bright with joy.
“Did you learn anything new?” Eaglekit mewed softly, poking at her cheek as he balanced on her shoulder precariously.
“Did you train against Buzzardpaw?” Tigerkit howled as he pounced onto her side, his weight slightly knocking the air out of her lungs and she grunted at the impact.
“Alright, get off first then I will tell you!” Whitepaw mewed through fits of laughter as she playfully swatted the kits away. Spottedkit slid off her and the young apprentice was always struck with how much like her mother she looked. Though, unlike both her parents who were constantly bitter she somehow had the happiest disposition. Tigerkit looked like a little version of the big cat that was his namesake as he tackled his sister to the ground. Eaglekit sat shyly next to the two of them, his brown tabby coat ruffled and unkempt as always. He had probably snuck away from his mother, Cricketsong, before she had a chance to groom him this morning.
“I did train with Buzzardpaw today,” Whitepaw mewed, gaining their full attention as they all perked their ears and leaned in to listen to her, eyes wide. She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter, laughter gleaming in her eyes. “For his brute size he’s not the brightest and it wasn’t hard to get him pinned!”
“No way!” Spottedkit breathed, eyes going wide as she looked at Whitepaw in awe.
“Yeah, no way.” Buzzardpaw mewed as he suddenly plowed into her with a light growl. She yelped as he pinned her down easily, his honey eyes gleaming mischievously down at her as she narrowed her eyes and tried to push him off with her hind legs. Her attempts were unsuccessful and the kits fell into a fit of giggles.
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them!” Whitepaw tried to protest, still trying to wiggle free as laughter rose out of her. When it was obvious he really had her pinned she sighed and slumped under him, giving him a playful glare.
“And this kits, is basically what training looked like today.” Buzzardpaw mewed and the kits let out mewls of laughter. The larger tom smiled and pushed off Whitepaw who scrambled to her paws and shook out her pelt and offered him a swift cuff over the ears.
Soft eyes turned on her, gleaming with affection and amusement as Buzzardpaw lightly touched his nose to hers. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” He mewed quietly and Whitepaw sighed, leaning into his touch for a heartbeat. Still glaring at him she gave the top of his muzzle a quick lick, a long standing sign of forgiveness between the two friends and Buzzardpaw broke out into a wide grin.
The kits giggled among themselves and Whitepaw flicked an ear as she glanced over at them as a familiar jingle went up between the three, about two cats who shared an interest in each other. “Hey,” She snapped quickly as her pelt heated up and the kits all shut their mouths simultaneously. “How would you like if I sing that about you two, Spottedkit and Eaglekit? Or you, Tigerkit with Swiftpaw?” She could see their eyes all grow wide and Spottedkit and Eaglekit rocketed away from each other with embarrassed scowls on their faces. The kits seemed to want to continue an argument but a quick call from Cricketsong had them scrambling back to the nursery, tossing hasty farewells over their shoulders.
Whitepaw smiled as she watched them go, her tail tip flicking thoughtfully. She always loved being with the kits and had always done the typical she-cat thing to imagine what her own kits would be like when she finally had some. Her heart always broke though, because she didn’t want to have kits in a clan whose leader was as dark and twisted as Tornstar. She had little hope that Seedflight would be any different than her brother if her time to lead ever came.
Buzzardpaw noticed the sudden look of distress on her face and gave her a soft nudge, his honey eyes studying her carefully. The smaller she-cat turned to look up at him and he offered her a comforting smile, one he knew would always lift her spirits. She sighed and shifted herself closer to him and leaned into him, letting his presence sooth her anxiety and racing heart.His scent filled her nose as she inhaled deeply, a sharp earthy scent that reminded her of the smell of the forest after it rained and fog hung heavy between the trees.
“You can’t apprentice them yet!” A sudden yowl drew their attention away from the dotting mothers and their kits to where Rowantooth was struggling to keep his composure while talking to Tornstar. Smokeclaw and another senior warrior, Hawkflight, were flanking their leader and bristling at the older tom who dared defy him. Around camp, heads turned and pelts began to bristle as the tension suddenly rose in the clearing.
“I am the leader,” Tornstar mewed, his voice level and held the facade of being calm, but venom dripped from his tongue as he spoke. He was a large cat but not in the sense that he was huge and bulky. He was tall, lean built with long limbs and a long tail so he towered over most and was quick enough to evade blows. His burnt cream colored pelt was speckled with black spots and his narrow face always held a sinister look to it as his ember eyes narrowed. Usually he had an uncannily cheery persona, but as Rowantooth spoke out against him his mood turned very dark very quickly. “I may do what I wish with the cats of my clan, to further build our strength so we may outlast another pandemic like we’ve had.”
“It isn’t the will of Starclan,” Rowantooth said solemnly, his own pelt beginning to bristle slightly. He was trying to keep his calm and Whitepaw shrank against Buzzardpaw as she watched the warriors start to mill about, bleeding out of the shadows. Beechwhisker and Snakpounce flanked Rowantooth, the toms had also been known to speak out against their leader, though for Beechwhisker it had cost him his last litter of kits.
“Starclan,” Tornstar spat, what was left of his torn and ripped ears tilted back and began to flatten as his eyes flashed with rage. “Our ancestors are nothing but figments of our imagination, tales to tell naughty kits who don’t listen to their mothers.”
“You’re wrong,” Rowantooth said, his voice steely calm as the two toms at his flanks paced beside him. Spiderpelt was with his mate Ambergaze and watched his clanmates with his pelt bristling and tail lashing. Whitepaw knew if he wasn’t comforting his mate, he would be beside Rowantooth in a heartbeat supporting him. Most of Hazeclan would, even all the queens - excluding Seedflight - would side with the calm, well respected older warrior that was Rowantooth. Many would have preferred him to be the new deputy, but at the time it wasn’t expected he would live to see the many more seasons he had.
Tornstar watched the clan grow restless around him and lashed his tail as his calculating gaze swept the clearing. “If our ancestors were real, then they abandoned us in our time of need. No guidance, not a single peep to help us through the leaf-bares and the terrors the snow and rain brought with it. How many litters were lost? Bright young apprentices and strong warriors? We lost Goosecry, the best deputy this clan has probably ever seen and will ever see again. We lost Patchstar, Fireschreech, Vinewind!”
Whitepaw flinched as he listed off some of the more recent warriors lost to greencough, or the few foxes and badgers that found their way into Hazeclan’s territory searching for food when harsh weather drove them out of their usual territory. Her father, Frostheart, had been killed by a fox before she was born, but she remembered how sad her mother, Petalpad, looked at times when she caught her thinking about him.
“Starclan can’t control everything, they are meant to guide us when they can but sometimes there is nothing they can do to intervene!” Rowantooth snapped, sounding as if he were scolding a kit. Something snapped and Tornstar at the tone the warrior took with him and he suddenly stood up taller. His eyes had a steely chill to them and Whitepaw shuddered as an unnerving smile crept into his features.
“Rowantooth, why don’t we go on a stroll?” Tornstar mewed as he glanced at Hawkflight. An unspoken exchange happened between the two before the warrior gave the tiniest dip of his chin in a small nod. “We are due for a border patrol anyway. Bring your apprentice along, I hear she needs some…work.” The Hazeclan leader turned his gaze across the clearing to the young she-cat and she felt her blue eyes go wide and she cowered beside Buzzardpaw. Her friend wrapped his tail around her and narrowed his eyes at their leader who watched the exchange with a thrilled look on his face, his grin widening and his eyes flashing with madness.
Rowantooth looked surprised at the sudden change in subject but a glance around the camp told him their exchange could continue outside the camp walls and away from so many listening ears. The last thing he wanted to do was start a riot in the camp, especially with their numbers still so low and with all the queens in the nursery. He nodded his head to Tornstar and beckoned Whitepaw over to him.
“Go,” Buzzardpaw mewed softly as he gave her a soft nudge, his tone was guarded but he did his best to comfort her. “When you get back I’ll have a nice fat mouse for you.”
Whitepaw looked up at him, his honey eyes so warm and inviting she didn’t want to leave as fear hammered in her chest, but she slowly pulled away and bounded across the clearing to her mentor. She stuck close to his side as Tornstar turned his gaze on her and motioned for them to all head out. They padded towards the camp entrance, the clearing in electrifying silence as they watched the patrol head out. Whitepaw hung her head and Rowantooth gently flicked her hip with his tail, letting her know he was there for her. Slightly reassured she glanced at Tornstar who was leading them and then back at Hawkflight who was trailing behind them slightly. As they entered the forest Tornstar suddenly veered sharply towards the southernmost border where flooding during this time of the year was common as melting snow and rain fed the raging waters of the river on the border.
“Whitepaw,” Rowantooth suddenly mewed quietly halfway through the trek. They were nearing their destination, the forest was thinning to become the grassy hills that lead to the river. Small outcrops of trees were here and there with patches of bushes growing thick and tall without the canopy of trees obscuring the sunlight. Whitepaw looked up at her mentor and in the sunlight his rust colored pelt seemed to shine and give him the slightest red colored halo about him. “If anything is to happen to me, I want you to run.”
Whitepaw blinked up at him and gapped in shock. Run? Run where? If she were to be caught, she would either be killed or forever exiled and where would she go? She wasn’t even sure she could survive on her own, she hadn’t had enough training. She was so caught up in her panic she hadn’t realized Rowantooth had been quietly speaking to her still.
“There is a group of rogues, across the stream to the west just beyond the border. They seem to have just settled there within the last moon or so, go to them. They should be able to help you.” He mewed softly, looking down at her with worried eyes.
“Why hasn’t Tornstar said anything about them?” Whitepaw mewed softly, her voice quivering as her legs began to feel weak, her fear making her body tremble.
“I’m not sure,” Rowantooth admitted as he shook his head. “But only Hawkflight and Smokeclaw have been patrolling that border with Tornstar. I only overheard them talking about it a few days ago. I don’t know what Tornstar has in mind for them, but I think he has found himself a new plaything. If you can, warn them they are not safe and should find a new place to settle, far away from here. Go with them, get away and stay safe.”
Whitepaw felt like her heart was caught in her throat and felt sick to her stomach as the world began to swim around her. There was a group of rogues, possibly another clan of cats forming just beyond their borders. Were they like Tornstar, following the same barbaric rules and way of life? Or were they like the clans her mother had told her stories about, with noble warriors and heroic leaders who kept their clans safe instead of sending them into a destructive, downward spiral?
“Why such a concerned look, Whitepaw?” Tornstar suddenly chimed in and Whitepaw became aware of the roaring sound of the river that had flooded over its banks. The muddy water churned viciously through the earth in a spot where it usually had been calm. Now, a little ledge that had led down a small embankment to the sandy shore of the river barely held together as the waters surged past the small cliff.
“It’s nothing,” Whitepaw mewed as they neared the water, getting uncomfortably close. “I am alright, just worried that the river is still flooded. What if the ground gives way to the force of the water?” There, she hoped that would serve as a good excuse.
Tornstar looked at the water and sighed before glancing back at Rowantooth, his eyes narrowing, “You know,” He mewed as he began to pad around the older tom, beginning to circle him in a predatory manner. Whitepaw shrank away instinctively, watching as their leader circled her mentor like one would circle their trapped prey. Rowantooth though kept a calm face, standing tall as his tail flicked back and forth and his eyes narrowed. “I remember you in your younger days, you trained some of the best warriors.” Tornstar sighed over dramatically, as if lost in thought. “You gave us Beechwhisker and Spiderpelt, who are some of my best warriors. A little too outspoken though, something they learned from you I suppose. And now? You are old, out of your prime and losing your touch. Your apprentice has yet to surpass any of her denmates, she is okay at some things but has yet to prove herself to be of any worth to me.” The Hazeclan leader turned his cold gaze to Whitepaw and Rowantooth opened his mouth to defend his apprentice, but Tornstar cut him off. “Luckily, she isn’t too much of a troublemaker right now. But who is to say she will always keep the sense to hold her tongue? Beechwhisker didn’t and it cost me valuable kits. All you give me, Rowantooth, are troublemakers and warriors I need to make examples out of. Let me make this clear to you, you have one last chance to prove to me you will fall in line, otherwise who is to say you will see next new-leaf?”
Rowantooth seethed at his leader, his fur slightly ruffled now as he curled his lips back in a snarl. “Whitepaw knows to keep her tongue,” He growled with a snort. “She is sensible and smart. Give her more time and she will prove herself, I know it.”
“Now, you see the problem with that is,” Tornstar mewed as his circling became tighter and tighter around the senior warrior. “That’s a lot of valuable time and energy that could possibly be wasted on a good for nothing warrior I will need to dispose of later on down the road. Rather than wait, we’ll just wipe your slate clean and you can try again with one of Seedflight’s or Cricketsong’s kits.” With that he turned to Hawkflight who was standing quietly a few tail lengths away from Whitepaw. Tornstar broke into a wicked smile and dipped his chin slightly in a nod as a cackling laugh escaped him.
In a flash Hawkflight was on her, his teeth sinking into Whitepaw’s scruff as she let out a screech and tried to wiggle free, but his grip on her was too tight. He began dragging and pulling her to the edge of the river and before she could cry out in protest icy cold water surrounded her and pulled on her fur. She pumped her legs furiously, fighting the current as it pulled her along and broke through the surface, coughing and sputtering as her lungs burned. HazeClan wasn’t a clan of swimmers like some fabled clans of the past and Whitepaw fumbled with her legs as she fought to stay above the raging water. Her heart was racing and her vision was blurred due to the water, she could vaguely make out the edge of the river and where Rowantooth stood. A little reddish brown blot in her vision squabbled with Hawkflight as he fought to get to the water and to Whitepaw.
Suddenly her paws knocked against something hard and she scrambled to get a good grip on it with her claws as she pushed off of the boulder and was able to make it to the edge of the water, reaching out desperately and sinking her claws into the side of the ledge. It was at least a half a tail length or so high and much too steep for her to climb to reach the edge. She was coughing and sputtering water out of her lungs and shivering from the fierce chill of the water as it bit at her skin. She gave a shrill wail as the current began to tug on her pelt, threatening to pull her back under as her hold on the slick earth began to slip, the soft muddy dirt starting to give way under her as she struggled to find a better paw hold.
“I got you!” Rowantooth finally mewed, breathless as he seemed to just materialize in front of her. She gasped as he reached down and gripped her scruff, shifting his weight onto his hind legs and heaving her up and over the edge with a grunt. He was bleeding from a few gashes and she looked around wildly for Hawkflight and Tornstar. She spotted them near the edge of the water as well, water droplets falling from their leader’s whiskers as he turned his scorching glare on the two of them.
“Whitepaw, run,” Rowantooth said in her ear in a low growl as he stepped in front of her, puffing up as his hackles raised and his tail lashed viciously behind him. “Run now, to where I told you!”
But Whitepaw was frozen in place as chilling water dripped from her pelt and she watched as Tornstar stalked towards her, his ember eyes alive with a furious flame and she was reminded of a creature that her mother had said crept through the deepest, darkest shadows of the Dark Forest. “You aren’t going anywhere!” He hissed and lunged after her. Rowantooth cut him off and shoved him to the side, both tumbling into the water as Whitepaw finally found it in herself to run.
“Stop her!” Tornstar howled in fury as he fought the river’s current. Whitepaw hadn’t gotten far when Hawkflight’s weight crashed into her and teeth sank into the scruff of her neck, dragging her back to the water’s edge. Fear gripped her and she tried to free herself from his grip, but the older warrior held onto her firmly, grunting with the effort. She glanced over to Rowantooth to see how he was faring and felt her heart drop as she watched Tornstar back away from a bloodied Rowantooth, a deep gash along his chest glittered a deep crimson color as he struggled to breathe. A gut wrenching wail ripped from Whitepaw as she watched Rowantooth fight for each breath, his eyes half closed as he looked at her, eyes filled with emotion as he saw her practically dangling from Hawkflight’s maw.
“I’m sorry,” He mewed, his voice so soft she barely heard him as Hawkflight dropped her and she rushed to her beloved mentor, pressing her paws against his chest to stop the bleeding. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, so much so she struggled to breathe and catch her breath as her body began to tremble uncontrollably.
“I failed you,” She whimpered when she realized she wouldn’t stop the bleeding from his deadly wound, blood welling up around her paws and staining them red. “I should have fought harder, learned more, trained better,” She continued to struggle to breathe, hiccups of air escaping her as her vision blurred. She felt as though her world had turned upside down, she was back in the river struggling against the current and she didn’t know which way was up or down.
“No,” Rowantooth said, adding conviction to his voice as he looked at her, pain filling his eyes as his flanks struggled to rise. “It is I, who failed you Whitepaw. I couldn’t protect us from this.” His tail swept around and rested on her flank, his usual gesture for calming support. “Whatever happens Whitepaw, you must be strong. Promise me you will be strong, do what you must to survive. It won’t be easy, Tornstar won’t show mercy but you have it in you. You have it in you to be great you just need to believe in yourself,” he was fading as he spoke, she could see the light leaving his eyes and she choked on emotion as it welled up in her throat as his voice got softer and softer.
“I can’t without you,” Whitepaw mewed, her voice hoarse and strained. “Rowantooth I can’t do it without you.”
“You will always have me,” Rowantooth mewed, his voice weak and hoarse. “I will always be with you Whitepaw. Keep your faith in Starclan, in me, and I will always be with you.” He tried to take in a deep breath but his lungs felt as if they were filling with stones. He was going and going fast. “You must have faith Whitepaw, you must stay strong. Don’t forget who and what you are, a true Hazeclan cat. Just like I taught you.” He closed his eyes, growing too weak to keep them open. “I’m always with you,” his last words came out on a shuddering breath and his body gave a soft tremor before going completely still, his lungs taking one final sigh and his flanks did not rise again.
“Rowantooth no,” Whitepaw mewed as she pushed her muzzle into the soft fur on the side of his neck, his scent lost to the smell of the river and his blood. “Rowantooth please, I’m lost without you.”
“Dispose of him,” Tornstar’s deep voice rumbled like thunder from behind her and suddenly her mentor was jerked away from her as Hawkflight grabbed his limp body and began pulling him towards the water. Realization struck Whitepaw like a thorn in her side and she gasped as she watched the older warrior drag Rowantooth towards the river.
“No!” Whitepaw shrieked. They were just going to toss him? Like he was nothing to the clan? Rage burned in her but before she could do anything Tornstar was standing beside her, looking down at her with his eyes bright with warning. She shrank away from him, her eyes going wide in utter terror.
“He could have had a second chance,” Tornstar mewed with a scowl of disgust. “You are useless to me, unless you can prove to me you won’t follow in your mentor’s outspoken ways, that you will fall in line.”
Whitepaw barely heard him as she watched Hawkflight thrust the rust colored tom into the churning waters. A blossom of red bloomed where Rowantooth’s bloodied body fell into the river. That bloom quickly turned into a streak and then nothing as water diluted the blood and her beloved mentor, the last member of the clan she knew truly loved her, was swept through the currents.
“You will not run, Whitepaw.” Tornstar mewed, as if sensing her thoughts as her fear filled eyes turned up to him. “There is no where for you to go. You won’t make it to the other clan before Hawkflight or I catch you. I lost one warrior today, I can afford to lose an apprentice too. Unfortunately.”
Fear gripped her heart and chilled her more than the water still clinging to her fur. She just numbly nodded and let herself be herded roughly back to camp. They all stopped to wash the blood from their pelts, the Hazeclan leader watching the young she-cat with narrowed eyes as she thoroughly cleaned her white pelt of her mentors blood. Tornstar and Hawkflight talked quietly about what they would tell the clan had happened, creating a detailed fabrication of what had transpired. When they returned, Whitepaw sat at the back of the gathered cats, feeling numb and empty as the two toms told their tale.
“It was tragic,” Tornstar mewed as he stood on his perch on one of the boulders, looking down at his gathered clan. A look of mock sorrow filled his eyes as he shook his head. “We told him the edge was dangerous, but he wanted to make sure the water was receding and wouldn’t cause us to lose any hunting grounds. The earth wasn’t stable though and crumbled under him. He fell into the waters, which were too deep and too rapid for any of us to do anything.”
The clan gasped and grief hung heavy in the air as the clan turned their sorrowful gazes onto Whitepaw who sagged her shoulders as she ducked her head, wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear from this nightmare.
“Tomorrow we have the full moon and we are due for a tournament. On top of the tragedy of Rowantooth, we were nearly faced with treachery when Whitepaw tried to run away. Such an act is treason and to prove herself now she will be competing in the tournament tomorrow in a battle to the death,” The clan gasped around the clearing and Whitepaw’s head snapped up, eyes wide as her pelt bristled. “Her opponent will be Buzzardpaw.” Tornstar looked down at her, his eyes shining with glee. He was taking pleasure in watching her eyes swim with fear and emotion as she looked across the clearing to where her friend sat with his mentor, his own eyes wide and she had never seen him look so pained.
“We begin at dawn!” Tornstar mewed and leapt down, letting the clan murmur amongst themselves and disperse as Whitepaw trembled in place, tucked away in the shadows of the clearing. She was greeted with glares from those who followed Tornstar closely and pity from those too afraid to speak out. She shrank away from everyone and jumped when Buzzardpaw materialized beside her, she hadn’t noticed him cross the clearing to her.
“What happened?” He murmured, looking down at her with concerned eyes as he took note of her still damp pelt. His jaw clenched as he seemed to understand the story told to the clan wasn’t entirely true. Faint traces of the scent of blood hung around Whitepaw and she ducked her head, shuffling her paws as pain made her voice raw.
“I can’t tell you,” She rasped as she avoided her friend’s gaze, keeping her eyes trained on her paws. The image of Rowantooth gasping out his last words to her and his flanks falling still was burning in the back of her mind, the scene on constant replay. She could feel his blood still between her toes and she shuddered, a pained sound escaping her throat. The young tom beside her pressed his pelt against hers, ignoring the dampness of her fur as he pushed her to her paws and herded her towards the apprentice den. They ducked into the shelter of the brambles as the other apprentices scurried back, casting Whitepaw narrow eyed glares as they passed. The young she-cat whimpered as she collapsed in her nest at the far end of the den, pressing her nose between her paws as she shivered. Buzzardpaw settled down beside her and pressed his body close to hers, his tongue rasping over her fur as he tried to warm her up.
“Can you tell me now?” Buzzardpaw asked, his voice low as he stroked her flank soothingly with his tail. His presence was soothing, but it did little to ease the ache in her chest. She looked up at him and met his honey gaze, his eyes full of worry and grief. She realized with a start he was grieving for her, for her loss as he understood what it was like to lose a mentor.
“Tornstar killed him,” She whispered, her voice so quiet she wasn’t even sure she actually said the words. “He killed him because he was trying to stop them from killing me…”
A growl tore from Buzzardpaw and Whitepaw looked up at him startled. Anger flashed in those usually calm honey eyes and he pressed his muzzle to her cheek. “I won’t let them hurt you,” He murmured, pressing closer to her as if the closer he was to her the better he could protect her.
“We have to fight tomorrow though,” Whitepaw mewed, pulling away so she could look up at him. “Until either you kill me or I…” She couldn’t finish that thought, shaking her head as a lump formed in her throat.
“We’ll figure it out,” The older tom mewed as he licked between her ears reassuringly. Whitepaw frowned as she looked at him, knowing there was no way the both of them would make it out of this alive. They couldn’t make a run for it, the camp was too heavily guarded by either Smokeclaw or Hawkflight or both. Besides, Whitepaw was unsure they could make it to the border and to the new clan before someone noticed they were gone and came after them. She sighed and lowered her head, arching her neck so she could rest her head across Buzzardpaw’s legs and rest her cheek against his chest, drawing comfort from his warmth. The young tom gave her pelt a few more soothing swipes of his tongue before he rested his head on the back of her shoulders. Whitepaw was grateful for her friend, but terrified for what the next day would bring. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she was sure sleep would have evaded her but tonight it dragged her down into fitful dreams.