Major Sunset Spoilers. If you have not read up to Sunset, turn back.
Written after finishing Sunset.
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His life had been a struggle for power from day one. And each struggle, he overcame
A struggle for power over death, fought in the deepest reaches of his tiny kit body. He survived what would have killed weaker kits.
Then, the struggle for acceptance among clan cats (to whom he half belonged from his heritage). The struggle to prove himself. This time, he had help from his sister. He won his way into the clan, even made deputy at one point.
But some unexpected help came along to him.
He didn't know who was guiding him to kill the moth, rip off its wing, and place it in front of Mudfur's den. But he had done it, and it had the reaction he had wanted. His sister's struggle had been won, of course, thanks to him.
The next struggle was one of greater proportions. A struggle to make it home, wherever that may be, for the clans. They were wounded along the way, with wounds that would never heal. Of course, it didn't really matter to him, but as a whole, they were wounded.
And they finally found it, didn't they? Yes.
But his last struggle would be his greatest.
His help appeared to him. Told him what his struggle was. Like his second- no. This was a struggle for ultimate power.
This was their struggle. If one should fall, both would fail. And failure wasn't a word in his vocabulary.
In the back of his mind, something said: He is not strong enough. He will fail. You will fail. You must not let him fail.
But it had shocked him more when Brambleclaw's chances looked oh so certain. Well. Let's see.
It'd been a natural response to lead Firestar to that trap. (Because, he could easily imagine Firestar as a fox.) It was an instinct forged into him by all those moonless nights in the dark forest, lit by fungi.
This was not his choice to make. It was Brambleclaw's moment of truth; Rule as Bramblestar, or turn his back on everything.
He was weak. He cared for kin and clan, not for power. Nothing could turn him now.
So Bramleclaw would face reckoning in his precious Starclan!
He was consumed in the ecstasy of battle and vengeance, while Brambleclaw fought for his life.
And the last moments of Hawkfrost's life seem like slow motion; Brambleclaw's fangs closing around the stick, and ripping it from the ground. The flexing of his brother's neck muscles as he turns his head to the Riverclan warrior. The sharp pain in his neck and the sound of wood cutting through flesh.
"Fool!" No, he can barely speak. No, he can't fail. "Do you think I did this alone? Do you think you're safe within your own clan?" His body is beginning to feel as cold as his gaze. "Think again!"
Perhaps he can find salvation in the lake. He stumbles over, drawn like a magnet. But he can't escape the path that the trail of blood is leading him too. And he can see the glimmer of the dying sun in the lake's reflection, leading him away.
No. He will not die. He will not fail. He must not fail!
But his body does not obey his mind. It falls against the shore. It spills his blood as his breath grows shallower. He could feel the water tearing at him, wanting him, but it doesn't feel all that cold next to his body.
The last thing he sees is the blood-red lake, cold and deathly, like his father's legacy.
Like him.
He's in the familiar dark forest now, the pain in his neck all but gone. The fungi has never been so bright, nor the trees so dark. But the shadow of the looming leader is the same.
He looks up at his father. Is Tigerstar proud of his son, who died for the revenge he wanted?
"You have failed." Is all he says, and the most infamous cat in the forest's history is gone.
Hawkfrost wails to the starless sky in his utter solitude and sorrow. He has failed. He has lost this struggle. He has failed.
And failure is never accepted.
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Hum. Dark. But I've settled a little of the urge to write Warriors. But yeah.
