I was never loved.
Oh, haha, life can be a joke sometimes, or it can all go wrong and shatter.
I was never understood, and always, always—played as the villain, even though I did what was only right, for me!
That piece of scum, that whiny kit, that playing, sob-story Goldleaf- hah! Even her name is stupid, just like she is. I should have known she posed a threat with her weak willed trembling self.
And she passed on that sense of corrupt goodness, that thing that makes you do things you wouldn't ordinarily do, to her son.
And thus, to my own
(****************)
I was born just in leaf-fall. My father was dead, and my mother bitter and resentful of me.
I was glad to be apprenticed—to be away from her and her burning eyes staring at me every night, every night, every night when I fell asleep.
I was in the middle of the ceremony. No sooner had I said, 'I do,'—but when a yowl rang out, interrupting MY ceremony!
It was Lightpelt—kitting her two kits. My ceremony was forgotten as cats rushed to help, and I was left alone in the dust, confused and not officially an apprentice in the eyes of StarClan.
A few moons later, I thought maybe things could get better when Floodpaw came along. He seemed to like me. I knew I shared the feeling.
But then there was Goldpaw, who he couldn't help sneaking glances at, and I knew his heart wasn't fully mine. Nor would it ever be—not for two cats, together since kithood.
The final straw was when he couldn't—wouldn't—pick between me and her. I wasn't loved; I was kept. I began to share news with a tom named Sparktail of ThunderClan. He seemed to love me, he seemed to care.
I told Floodpelt of his traitorus fatal action against me. If he had cared, he wouldn't have gotten near Goldleaf.
I ran to ThunderClan, aided by Sparktail. Two moons later, we had a kitten, named Frozenkit.
And when the war finally came, I knew chance for vengeance was great. Redstar forbade me to go, said I had a kit, and that they had enough able fighters.
I didn't care who won the war. That wasn't important.
I knew Goldleaf would fight, of course. She was going to be there, as well as Floodpelt, to pay, to see his very mate die under his eyes. He was powerless. I was in power.
She was slow, and clumsy. I was sick with rage.
A kit.
She had a kit.
This infuriated me. I killed her in seconds. She died under my claws—she was gone.
But then, my own life was torn from me, by the cold teeth of the one I had first loved.
And so the night will reign. I will have my revenge on those who hurt me.
Be prepared, Falconheart, because this will not end well.
Be prepared.