Title: Our Morality.

Summary: AU. On the eve of a war against Windclan, Thunderclan is faced with another problem entirely; their medicine cat has been fatally wounded, and the paws are pointed at a mysterious rogue who has lost his memory completely. Reluctant to comply with his denmates, Firestar is left to investigate the rogue's abnormal predicament.

Warnings: Very dark, language, violence. Rated T for now, but will mostly go up to M in later chapters.

Notes: This fanfiction takes place after Power of Three. Ivypaw and Dovepaw have been born, however, Hollyleaf was never revealed as a traitor, and Leafpool's secret was kept at bay by Sandstorm. Due to mysterious deaths occuring in Windclan, they blame the only clan they can: Thunderclan. Also, the prophecy is still present, but is not a major plot in the story until... much later.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, book series, or anything related. This is just fanfiction, spawned out of my own mind.

Chapter One: The Feather's Misfortune

He was lost.

The logical explanation came to him as soon as the scents around him became blurred thoughts, and as he continued on, he found himself wishing he had turned back the instant he stepped into unknown territory. This, of course, this unexplanable desire to drag on was sending his mind into a heated turmoil of clashing battles. All he wished to do was find out what plagued his curious mind. All he wanted to do was turn around and run with his tail low between his legs. But as Damien had learned as a kitten, running was a sign of weakness—a weakness he strived not to show.

As his paws hit the cold grass underneath, his fur prickled uneasily. From the dense forests before him rang a noise, one carrying the dreadful sound of pain. Damien's ears strained as he crouched low. Though he wished to see any sign of life among these forests, the distress cry could be a trick; someone could be attempting to lure the tom, intent on attacking and fatally wounding him while his guard was down.

Another yowl of pain sounded, this one containing a depth of torment the other had not.

Damien hissed. "Dammit," his hazel eyes searched the undergrowth. "I hate being the hero."

Reluctant to leave his spot of solace, Damien moved carefully towards the cry. If other cats heard the cry and decided to investigate, he did want to be their center of attention when they found this injured cat. He snorted. They would probably blame him for the injured, and then decide to punish him in a fatal way. What luck that would do him.

He hated being blamed for everything. From a young age, he had learned to live on his own. Strangely, no one approached him as a kit. Damien shrugged it off as his size. Born a rather large kitten, many predators became intimidated at his physique, and cats looking for a fight ran away before he could land a blow. But as he grew, rumours spread. Rumours of the return of a massize tom. Immediately upon hearing these rumours, he dismissed them. They were about him. Cats were spreading remours about him, and blaming him for their misfortune.

Oh, how wrong he was.

From Damien's point of view, the world was rotten. Other animals were selfish, ungrateful. They took what was granted.

Shaking the unwanted images of his past away, Damien unsheathed his claws. As he had dwindled on his thoughts, his paws had taken him to a wide clearing among the trees. Before the clearing stretched a lake. The water shimmered blue against the sunlight, and though the sight was quite beautiful, the cries of pain were even louder than before. Damien was close. He heard the faintest breath, a hoarse attempt at another yowl, and more breathing. Preparing himself for the inevitable, he pawed his way out into the clearing.

Blood. It was everywhere.

Damien tried, he really did—but his legs refused to budge. He was meeting the gaze of the most horrified blue eyes. Misty blue eyes that stared at his own hazel. Yet Damien knew he was not being looked at. He knew. And it hurt even more. The grustesque sight before him was better off not looked at. The cat—tom—had lost too much blood. His gray pelt was matted with unimaginable amounts of blood, and one of his legs had been—

It was too much, just too much for his brain to register. And he never realized he was moving towards the tom until he was standing directly over him. "I'm sorry," he whispered absently into the sky, never taking his gaze off the cat. "I'm so sorry."

Suddenly, as Damien stood over him, a scream of anguish sounded from behind him. He never had time to turn to meet his maker as claws met his pelt, tearing, ripping, attempting to leave the most fatal mark. Hissing from pain, he met the face of hell—a black cat, green eyes blazing with fury. The cat never gave him the chance to say a word before it was upon him again, and he never registered another thought as his legs found himself and he was running, just running away from the gruesome horror as fast as he could.

Paws drumming from behind him signalled the cat was chasing after him. Damien could hear others behind the cat, their yowls almost identical to the cat's. They hissed commands to each other, and he never realized that the cat had another and more joining it, and that he was running even faster.

But that never mattered.

As he ran, horrified, showing weakness, a thunderous crack echoed across the forest.

Damien never saw it coming—a monster. It was coming towards him. Fast. And he tried to dodge it. He tried. But the monster roared at him, engulfing him in a sea of blackness as he felt his mind shatter. Damien reached a solitude of darkness before he could react to the pain pulsing through his being.

But that never mattered.

-

Chapter Notes;

Just so everyone knows, Damien does have a very important role in the series. And, to give everyone a little hint, he is a character in the Warriors series. However, he was briefly alluded—and that was the end of that.