Snaketail- brown tabby tom with amber eyes. He thinks he's a reincarnation of the mighty Tigerstar, which has others laughing. He's a lithe and skinny type, short too. But has dangerously sharp claws he threatens to use. He wants be leader, have power over all the clans, just like Tigerstar did. He plans not to fail though.
The frigid ice dug into Snaketail's paws. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth and froze on contact. His chapped paws were cut and bleeding. Shards of ice dug into them, slicing them open deeper, but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Stopping was an impossibility he couldn't risk considering.
"Ge' back here, ya coward!" Redtalon snarled. The deputy and his patrol were not as quick as Snaketail. Of course not, Snaketail thought proudly. He's far too fat.
Icepaw leapt forth around the deputy, haring after Snaketail with a fresh passion. "You killed my mother!"
Snaketail kept running. His paws bled harder.
A sharp pain ran up his back. Icepaw caught him! How could she? How could a dumb apprentice manage to seize a seasoned warrior? How?
They were tossed into a roll. Redtalon hauled Snaketail up by his scruff, freeing his paws. Fool! Snaketail thought. He broke away from them with ease. Helping an enemy warrior without even realizing it.
A faint thought nagged the back of his mind. We are not enemy warriors. He is my friend. He chased the thought away. Was my friend. Is no longer.
Snaketail kept sprinting. His lungs were having problems expanding. Kit-hood sickliness was coming back to haunt him ferociously. His legs grew rubbery and weak. His amber eyes drooped, yet he could hear the patrol behind him in hot pursuit. They are not tiring! He began to panic. StarClan, help me! He regretted every decision he had ever made to renounce his warrior ancestors.
Icepaw slammed him again. They rolled. Snaketail felt every minute touch, every little brush of fur, as she dug her claws into him. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. His eyes widened. She was not fighting to wound. She's going to kill me!
He was slammed by another body, bigger, rounder. Redtalon was crushing him. The trio rolled and slashed, rolled and slashed. Snaketail knew he was losing, knew it, felt it, seemed it from every mark he was gaining. I cannot win! Cannot possibly ever win!
They rolled once more. The ground vanished from beneath him.
"No!" Snaketail screeched. "The gorge!" he gargled before he vanished underwater.
Bubbly visions flashed in front of him.
His mother, the grand Goldenstar, the awesome Goldenstar, the wonderful Goldenstar. Beauty in all she was. Amber eyes mirroring his own.
That vision passed. It always did.
There was Graypelt, as he toppled from the gorge, the same one Snaketail was drowning in. Graypelt, Snaketail's father. Graypelt, the loyal deputy. Graypelt, the martyr.
Goldenstar, again, mourning. She was awfully sad. Terribly sad. So caught up in grief that she didn't see the obvious answer. Snaketail.
Of course she didn't see him. She never had.
Redtalon. He had been chosen. Younger than Snaketail. More arrogant. More cocky. Totally undeserving of the position of deputy.
Everyone knew it should've been Snaketail. Everyone. Even his younger siblings, Icepaw and Whitepaw. Even his littermate, Smallfire. Even the medicine cat, Snowleaf. Snaketail had never spoken to her, but he knew she had a sign. He knew. He understood that he was supposed to be deputy. Everyone did.
Everyone but Goldenstar. And Redtalon. Those two. They hadn't understood. Goldenstar, for she was grieving, and Redtalon, for he was proud.
He'd had to get rid of her. He'd had to! There had been no choice in the matter.
His plan was clear cut, from the beginning. Awake in the night. Lead Goldenstar to the lake for a son to mother talk. And attack.
That's what he had done. He had attacked. Slashed her throat and lay her in the tepid lake water. And oh, the blood! Oh, the blood! How it had flowed warmly over his paws! How it had felt!
He could have bathed in the blood. Simply could have bathed in the blood. There was so much…and it was so warm…
He would have bathed in the blood.
But Redtalon had been watching. With Icepaw.
Snaketail writhed and twisted under water, searching for the way to the surface. How? he wondered. How could I fail? How could I have not noticed?
Paws tangled over his throat. He could not see in the icy blackness, but he knew they were paws. Paws slowly creeping, creeping, just as his had done to her.
Realization.
Redtalon's claws cut into his flesh, ripping smoothly sideways.
Snaketail floated to the bottom forever.