Hello, and welcome to a new story of mine! I'm excited for this one, actually :D Verrry excited!

Just as a note, I LOVE Hollyleaf, Jayfeather, Nightcloud, and Breezepelt. I hope I don't offend anyone with how Breezepelt describes any of them; this is Breezepelt/Nightcloud (later on), and we know their opinions on Leafpool and her kits :)

Prologue

The rain poured down upon the moors; in the distance, he could feel a vibration of smoke pilling from the trees, trailing through the rain drops and over to the lean toms nose. The blood that had been spilt during the battle between the Clan's and the Dark Forest had ended abruptly; he watched as the ghost cats disappeared, anguished or exhausted, some almost dying as they vanished.

His gaze traveled from his recovering Clanmates, and to the dark forest that lay in the distance; he saw smoke being pushed down from the sky by the rain, with the faint orange embers glowing through the dense trees.

His amber eyes began to narrow, slowly, as he thought of the traitors that lived among that foolish and discombobulated Clan, as they called themselves. He knew that one was dead; Hollyleaf had been slain by Hawkfrost. Lucky tom.

The black tom had Lionblaze in his grasp; the golden tabby knew that he would've been beaten, if hadn't been for him.

He felt his claws slide out of their sockets; they gripped the damp and soiled earth, burning fury pulsing through his veins, sharper than any fang. That stupid tom who called himself a father had ruined everything! He had stomped on the tom's mother's heart, and had the audacity to claim that it was Nightcloud's fault for it!

Breathe. Keep calm, Breezepelt. Don't lose your head; Nightcloud'll need me more than ever now. Crowfeather won't take her away from me. He blinked, shaking his head. The water droplets flew from his fur, scattering on the grass around him. He looked over to the side, frowning when he saw red-pink liquid mingled in amongst it; only then did he begin to feel the intense and burning pain of his wounds.

Breezepelt grunted, turning away from the top of the moor hill; he watched as the WindClan cats that had lived the battle limped away from the bloody grounds; he saw Whitetail helping Owlwhisker from the clutches of a thorn bush – he could only guess that the brown tabby was too weak to pull himself from it.

Every pawstep that he took felt as if his pads were on fire; the dirt from the ground pieced the open wounds, and the small pebbles hit in just the right spot, causing him to quickly draw his paw away from the grass.

Great StarClan, who knew the Dark Forest cats were holding back on us all this time? He frowned, shrugging away grief as he saw Weaslefur laying on his side, Swallowtail and Onestar hovering over him, with Kestrelflight bounding over the hill after them.

The pale ginger tom was breathing heavily; he didn't know whether or not he was dying, or just too hurt to get up, but from the look on that gash on his side…

"Are you okay?"

He didn't have the energy to jolt when he heard his friend, Heathertail, meow from behind him; he turned, looking at the pretty light brown tabby's face. Light blue eyes set in a pretty brown face looked at him, concernedly.

Surprised you're not running in WindClan checking on Lionblaze. He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he turned slowly back, noticing the general concern in her eyes. But, then again, you claim to be over him.

"I'm fine," he grunted, lashing his tail.

The rain continued to drip around him; he felt its soothing caress as it dribbled through his thin black fur, soaking his aching wounds and becoming a small remedy. Thunder growled in the distance, the graying sky not letting up in its downpour.

Heathertail suddenly appeared beside him, causing him to jolt and a whole new ripple of pain spreading across his shoulders. "You've been acting weird lately," she murmured.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure,"

"I'm serious." Her tone had changed; it was no longer pondering and shy-like, instead, it was more forceful, a little harder than usual.

Breezepelt pricked his ears, but he only sniffed, shaking his head. "And I'm being serious when I say I'm fine." He attempted to shrug her off, but the she-cat only continued to stay by his side, unfazed by his stubborn exterior.

Heathertail sighed, withdrawing her former tone. "You disappeared during the battle," she meowed, changing the subject of the conversation. "And more of the Dark Forest warriors showed up during the fight. Crowfeather and Nightcloud were gone too," she continued.

He flinched at the mention of his mother and father; he hadn't known Nightcloud had disappeared too, but perhaps she could've gone to lurk around, trying to find Leafpool. Maybe she gave her a few scars too, serve that she-cat right in the-

"You should've stayed in your own territory," she growled, and, despite the fact that Breezepelt had his back to her, he could almost hear the frown in her voice. "I know that you went into the forest."

They were nearing the WindClan camp, as he noticed. The rain was letting up; as the drizzle died, the more cold it felt and earthier it smelled. He watched as Boulderfur, his former apprentice, padded over to Furzepelt, both cats keeping their voices low as they padded toward the camp.

Breezepelt turned his focus back to Heathertail, who was promptly awaiting his answer. "What I was doing there is none of your concern, Heathertail. We won, didn't we? Why would it matter where I was during one point in the battle?"

Heathertail turned; the light brown she-cat padded ahead of him, her tail lashing quietly from side to side as she padded after the WindClan cats. He watched as her shape began to grow smaller and smaller, cocking his head to the side as she looked back over her shoulder and said something inaudible to him.

He wasn't sure, but it sounded like "Figure out where your loyalties lie!"

.

.

He frowned as he heard his mother bickering with his father; it was not out of the norm, but he knew that this fight was worse than the others.

"I heard you talking to that-that she-cat! What does she have that I don't?"

You're far better than Leafpool, Mother. He frowned as he heard his father yell back at her – "I loved her! I gave up being a warrior for her; we were going to run away together! When was the last time that you did something like that for me?" – knowing that he could do nothing to stop the constant fighting. You deserve better than Crowfeather; every cat thinks so. All that stupid tom has ever done for us was caused fighting and trouble. We don't need him.

"W-what have I done for you? I took you in as a mate; I gave birth to our kits! Do you think any other WindClan she-cat would be that kind? That generous?"

We shouldn't have to be subjected to the stares we gain as a part of that mangled bloodline; we should go back to what we used to be! Stupid, stupid Hollyleaf!

Finally, for a moment, I thought my father could care about me; he could forget about Leafpool and move on with my mother. I thought that maybe I could train with Brokenstar and Hawkfrost in the Dark Forest, become the best warrior that I could be.

But they had to ruin that, didn't they?

"Oh sure, we'll go with that old excuse! Just because we became mates doesn't make you some type of sweet queen!"

We should run.

"I can't believe you."

Become rogues, live on our own. Than you can find a better mate, and perhaps I could find a life with me as the warrior that I craved to be.

"I think we're done anyway."

But I promise that, no matter what, I will always love you, Mother.

"We're through, Crowfeather."

.

.

He was sleeping soundly; he felt his back rise and fall with each breath soundly, naturally. The nest around him felt comfortable, warm – even though most WindClan cats indulged in sleeping outside, especially on this night with this victory, he turned his back to it.

What had the stars done? Caused his mother and him a life of pain. Their so-called 'warrior ancestors' had only stood by and watched as their lives were destroyed in front of them; they only came to help with the Clans were in danger.

"Breezepelt," It was no more than a whisper; soft and soothing, like he remembered from his kit days, when his mother would tell him tales from the distant lineage of WindClan, of the Old Forest, where the forest smelt beautiful and the river was bubbling.

"Breezepelt!" This was only a little louder, but it caused him to slowly crack open his eyes, blinking groggily as the light from outside trailed inside of the warriors den.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, licking a paw slowly and drawing it over his eyes. "What's happening?" He yawned, focusing his blurry vision.

Nightcloud was in front of him; her green eyes were slightly troubling, he noted, as she stared down at him, a mixed expression of fear and joy.

"Get up," she murmured, nosing him to his paws.

Breezepelt stood, his bones feeling numb and felt as if they weighed more than a boulder. "W-why?" he asked through another yawn, blinking exhausted amber eyes as Nightcloud pressed her muzzle against his flank, pushing him forward.

They stepped over the few warriors that curled inside of the den, the small pathway that had been made before paw making their journey into the center of the camp easier. Breezepelt watched as his mother turned away from the fresh-kill pile; her fur was only just visible in the purple-black skies faint light.

As he noticed from a small upturn of his head, the glittery stars were much more visible tonight; sparkly, glittering. I can hardly believe we won that battle, though. Tigerstar, Hawkfrost, and Brokenstar are amazing warriors; how could they have been beaten?

There were no guards tonight; Onestar must've noted how exhausted everyone would've been from the battle – of all Clan's. Nightcloud's tail was draped over his shoulders, and despite his tough and stubborn exterior, he didn't mind it when his mother was guiding him – she was all he had left.

He began to wake up a bit more as he realized how deep into the territory they were going; they weren't heading in the direction of the lake, nor near the ThunderClan territory. He saw the faint glow of twoleg nests as they began heading behind the Clans' territory – they were nearing the Twoleg place.

"Are we leaving?" he asked, almost hopefully. His eyes widened, his grogginess leaving his body as the enticing feeling of fleeing the Clan's became more and more real. "The Clans, I mean. Are we actually going?"

His mother allowed a small smile to curl across her muzzle; she paused from walking and pressed her muzzle on his ear. "Yes."

Suddenly, for the first time in moons, Breezepelt felt a new taste in the breeze's that overtook their Clan's territory.

He tasted freedom.

I hope everyone enjoyed that! R it's greatly appreciated!