Oh Boy oh Boy its 1 am and I'm waking up around six to tomorrow.

Perfect time to write.

This is an AU story so don't freak. Just something that came to mind. Sorta Drabble

Notice; I haven't read Goosefeathers Curse so if I mess up, make sure to flame me about it.

Thank your all around for Cynical-Britton (who is hilarious and you should definitely check out) for beta-ing this at half past midnight :).

DISCLAIMER: I don't own cat game of thrones. I've never even owned a cat.

Happy reading.

Goosefeather stared silently into the muddy puddle.

He stood, staring, next to a thunderpath in the twoleg place, into the muddy puddle, leaves and small twigs swimming at the bottom.

He didn't even really remember how he got here.

His aching paws told him that he had wandered a long way, and his aching tummy screamed that his last meal was days ago. A monster zoomed past, and Goosefeather didn't flinch. The toms fur was tangled and ungroomed, and even in the reflection he could see that he had a crazy look in his amber eyes.

He dipped his front two paws lightly into the shallow water, trying to get that sticky feeling off them. It didn't work.

He remembered his home, his Thunderclan, shining with clever warriors, wise elders, and apprentice's full of potential. The gray furred cat knew that his home was taken away, just torn away from him.

His clanmates voices were clear in his mind, though their appearance he for the life of him he couldn't remember clearly. It was just all so blurry. He remembers his gentle sister Moonflower, her daughters, the kind Snowfur and feisty Bluefur. His thoughtful apprentice Featherwhisker and his noble leader Pinestar...Or was it Sunstar?

Even the memories of Leopardshine and abomination of a kit held a place in his senile head.

Oh, and he'd never forget that fateful night.

After so many omens, so many clear warnings from his starry ancestors, he knew he couldn't wait any longer. He must act.

So he did, and his family punished him for it. Yes, even after saving them, after stopping the true enemy, they were ungrateful and foolish.

They screamed at him, called him names, dared to call him a traitor and even a killer as their leader stood on the high rock and banished him.

He took it without even flinching. Goosefeather wouldn't let any bit of doubt of his actions poke at him. The medicine cat begged and tried to reason with them, try to enlighten them that truly he was a hero. But they twisted his mourns and he still faintly hears them yowling and crying at him sometimes. When he listens.

The rumbling sound of a passing monster ripped him from his thoughts, and he couldn't seem to remember where he was, or why he was staring at this disgusting cat in this disgusting puddle.

His two front paws felt sticky and he dipped them into the shallow water, trying to get that feeling of of them.

But it seemed that no matter how many times Goosefeather washed his paws, it felt like Tigerkits blood still was flowing on them.