EDITED AS OF MAY 4, 2012.

Holy crap, guys.

This piece of writing managed to get eighteen reviews? O_o Not bad for something I wrote last-minute last November.

Anyway.

For the challenge at LawlClan. (Medium.) (You'll have to get inspired by this quote: "Some people are born great, while some have greatness thrust upon them and others learn to be great. But there are still some that shall and never be great." This has to be between two thousand and ten thousand words and must be a one-shot.)

^Prompt.

Thank you, Nida, for beta-reading this. :D I really do appreciate it. And, yes: I promise I'll keep this up here, no matter how awful I may think that it is.

Also, a big thank-you to my reviewers. I WILL NOW FINALLY FIX SOME ASPECTS OF THIS STORY. :K

(Oh, and congratulations to Dragon for winning the contest!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.

He sat on the edge of the cliff, prepared to die.

Thoughts swirled in confusing patterns through his head. She always wanted me to die, he thought as he looked over the edge. The height was making him dizzy. Would it hurt to hit the ground? No, he consoled himself. And if it does, it should only hurt for a second.

He vaguely remembered a story about when the Clans first inhabited the lake. Cats had been chased over the cliff, and had broken their necks. Quick and painless. The cat got into a crouching position.

This was the moment of truth. He would finally end his pain, once and for all. Three…two…

"What are you doing?" a voice behind him yowled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking a quick glance back, and leaped over the edge.

Birchkit sat in the medicine cat's den, angrily flicking his tail back and forth. He had been waiting on the moss since dawn, and the sun was now sinking in the sky. Where is she? he wondered irritably. She promised…

A black she-cat ducked through the entrance. "Hi, Birchkit!" she mewed cheerfully. "Why do you look so sad?"

He sighed. "Hi, Nightpaw. Willowshade told me she would visit me at sunhigh."

A dark look flashed across his sister's face. It lasted only a heartbeat before she regained her composure. "I'm sure she's just on a hunting patrol or something."

"Yeah," Birchkit mumbled, "sure."

Nightpaw swatted his ear affectionately. "Stop being so upset! It's the warmest it's been all leaf-bare. The sun's shining. You should be outside playing, not in here!"

"Like anyone would want to play with me," he growled, wiggling the stump that protruded where his hind left leg should be.

She only glanced at it for a second. "Is this because you didn't get apprenticed?"

His fur bristled.

"I'm sorry; I should have been more careful."

"It's fine," Birchkit said in a light tone.

"Well, I – "

"Nightpaw!" a voice called from outside.

The black cat sighed. "That's Firestorm. I'll come by later, okay?" Birchkit gave her a dull look. She growled. "Fine. Have fun sulking."

Once she had left, Birchkit flopped down and stared at his paws. The day he had been old enough to survive without his mother was the day he had been whisked away to the medicine cat den. Every day, he told himself that the anger he had seen in his mother's eyes had not been directed at him, but at the problems he would have to face. That is why she was so upset… right? Yet, with each passing day, he couldn't help but notice the devotion she gave to his siblings: a mew of encouragement to Nightpaw when she was trying to get a battle move right; a rowdy compliment about how wonderful Thrushpaw was at hunting when he brought back a pigeon; a piece of sweet praise when Heatherpaw managed to detect the fresh scent of fox on a border patrol. All he received was an uncomfortable glance here and there.

He had felt crushed when he wasn't given his apprentice name. It had been hard to plaster on a look of pride over his overwhelming sorrow. And yet, he had managed. He had always managed. It was the only words that even resembled encouragement that Willowshade had said to him. He recalled the words: "It will be tough, living with only three legs. But you'll have to learn to live with it. There will be times that no one will care about your needs, or will feel sorry for you. You will have to deal with it."

At the moment, he had to manage. Here he was, still a kit, while his siblings were already halfway through their apprentice training! Aggravated, he clawed at the dirt before him.

"Birchkit! What's wrong?"

Maplefur's meow interrupted his thoughts, repealing the anger. He looked up and sighed.

"Willowshade said she would visit me today."

The medicine cat stared at him, her eyes speckled with sadness. "I'm sure she'll stop by. In fact, I just saw her by the fresh-kill pile. Why don't you go out and share a mouse with her?"

"Okay!" He pushed his gloomy thoughts aside and scrambled to stand up. After a few failed attempts, Birchkit managed to balance, and rushed out of the medicine cat den. His mother sat near the fresh-kill pile with Birchkit's two other siblings, Thrushpaw and Heatherpaw. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nightpaw trying to convince her mentor of something. He padded over. "Hey, can I sit with you guys?"

Willowshade looked up, only to quickly avert her eyes. Oblivious to her discomfort, Thrushpaw mewed happily, "Of course! I'll share my vole with you."

Birchkit sat down, his eyes trained on his mother. He could've sworn that a moment ago, she had been talking gaily with his siblings. Is it because of me?

"So, Birchkit," Heatherpaw said, "do you suppose they'll give you a mentor?"

He stared at his sister. "Well, I, ah–"

Thrushpaw nudged her. "I'm sure he will! I bet Sandstar's just waiting for Birchkit's other legs to get stronger before he gets a mentor, so he'll be easier to train." His words were reassuring, but the tone was saccharine, as though he didn't believe it at all.

Birchkit stared down at his light brown paws. "Yeah, I bet that's it."

Heatherpaw gave a dismissive flick of her tail. "I was just wondering. I mean, it hasbeen three moons. But I'm sure Thrushpaw's right."

"What do you think, Willowshade?" Birchkit asked.

Willowshade blinked in surprise at him and shifted uncomfortably before answering. "I'm sure you'll become an apprentice. It's only a matter of time."

"What's going on?" Nightpaw mewed as she bounded over to the small group. "I could hear you guys from all the way over there!"

"We were just discussing about whether or not Birchkit was going to get a mentor," Heatherpaw told her.

"Oh, okay." She sat down next to her brother and nudged him playfully. "You spend enough time in the medicine cat's den. Maybe you'll be Maplefur's apprentice!"

"Why is that, anyway?" Thrushpaw asked aloud.

Birchkit shrugged. "I don't know. Do you know, Willowshade?"

His mother seemed to choke on her mouse. "Y–you were very sickly as a kit," she stammered. "As soon as you were old enough, you were moved to the medicine den, to avoid getting the other kits sick."

"Why am I still in there, anyway?"

"You're too big for the nursery."

Birchkit narrowed his eyes at his mother. She seemed to be lying, but he didn't bother accusing her of it. Instead, he stood up. "I have to go. I'll talk to you all tomorrow."

"Bye Birchkit!" his siblings called as he made his way to the nursery. Once inside, he curled up onto his nest.

He found himself reflecting on the recent events. His mother had been lying – now, he was sure of it. By why lie about something as simple as that? And why did she always seem so uncomfortable in his presence? Is she… embarrassed of me?All he wanted was to be the best warrior he could be. Birchkit thought distastefully of his stump of a left leg. It was the only thing preventing him from being an apprentice. If only he had been born normally…

Birchkit awoke to darkness.

At first, he didn't know what had caused him to wake. The night seemed peaceful enough – cool, but not chilling, with the faint sound of crickets penetrating the den walls. He opened his jaws in a large yawn and looked around sleepily.

Maplefur wasn't in her nest.

Huh, he thought. It's not the half-moon. Suddenly, he heard a voice coming from outside. Birchkit froze and swiveled his ears towards the entrance.

"Has he been getting any better?" That was his mother's voice. Why is she here?

"Well, his other limbs have certainly gotten stronger, though he still lacks some balance." And that was Maplefur's.

"Do you think he'll become an apprentice soon?"

"Possibly – depends if Sandstar allows it." There was a hint of distaste in the ginger she-cat's voice.

His mother sighed. "I just hope he becomes one soon. I can't bear to see him in pain."

"'In pain?' He's not in any physical pain. But emotional? Yes – you never visit him!"

There was a beat of silence before his mother spoke. "You know I wasn't trying to get too attached to him. But you? You disobeyed Sandstar's direct orders. You were supposed to feed him deathberries, but you refused!"

Birchkit trembled. What?

Maplefur hissed. "I don't believe in those rules. Just because he's deformed doesn't mean he should die!And Sandstar allowed him longer to live, to see if he could actually turn into a decent warrior."

"Yes, but look at him!He can barely stand up, let alone fight and hunt! I keep trying to hold onto the hope that he'll become an apprentice, but what if he doesn't? I don't want to bear the thought of him dying after working so hard to be accepted. It would be much easier to end it now, and avoid the disappointment of rejection."

"Yes, but what if he isallowed to become one?" Maplefur retaliated. "Why not take that chance? Let him try to become a warrior!" She paused. "And besides, I would readily agree to take him as my apprentice as a last resort."

Willowshade sniffed. "Do you honestly think he would let you do that? Look at you! You're young! Mousefoot died only shortly before Birchkit was born. There's no point in letting him be your apprentice."

"You want him to die, don't you?" Maplefur snapped. "You're embarrassed by him! Yes, I've seen the way you act around him, and I don't think it's just because you don't want to grow too attached to him. He's only missing a leg! What's so wrong about that?"

Birchkit didn't hear Willowshade's response. His hearing was too drowned out by the beating of his own heart.

Rejection.

Deformed.

Death.

It was hard to pick out an individual thought from the muddled mess of words that swirled about his head. She wants me to die, was the thought he finally produced. I'm nothing – just an accident. I shouldn't even be alive.It seemed he could only repeat these three thoughts over and over in his mind. Birchkit stood, this time without falling, and bounded out the entrance, nearly hitting the bickering she-cats.

"Birchkit!" Willowshade called. "Come back-"

"No." Maplefur laid a tail on her shoulder. "Give him some time to sort things out."

"Do you think he heard us?"

Maplefur didn't respond.

Nightpaw couldn't sleep.

She didn't know why. The night was calm, with a pleasant breeze ruffling her fur. The day's training had exhausted her. And, her belly felt full for the first time that leaf-bare. But why was it that every time she closed her eyes, she felt nothing but dread?

Perhaps it was Birchkit. When he had left the fresh-kill pile, something had seemed to be bothering him. She hadn't pried, but she would tomorrow. Maybe she could make him feel better.

For now, Nightpaw settled with a walk in the forest. She stood up and quietly stepped over her sleeping companions, surprised to find herself not at all tired. With a shrug, she tip-toed across the camp and headed out the bramble entrance.

The forest was lush. It was odd how it seemed more like a greenleaf night, rather than a leafbare one. In fact, she could even hear a few mice in the undergrowth, but resisted the urge to chase after them. It seemed too magical for hunting. Looking up, the stars of her ancestors shone bright. StarClan, please let my brother feel better. She sent the silent prayer upwards.

Nighpaw slowly padded through the trees. Something seemed too perfect about that night. It was almost as though there was a hidden tension in the air, predicting a bad event. Calm down, Nightpaw, she told herself, trying to dismiss the thoughts of discord. You're just worried for your brother, that's all.

She tasted the air, and immediately an out-of-the-ordinary scent hit her. Is that... Birchkit? What's he doing out here? The scent was fresh, and seemed only to have been left a few minutes ago. Curious, she followed the trail through the forest. Soon, she found herself nearing the edge of the forest, opening up to the clearing of the cliff that overlooked ThunderClan. Why would Birchkit be by the cliff? Nightpaw cautiously poked her head out into the clearing. There, by the edge of the cliff, was Birchkit. He was in an awkward crouching position, almost as if he were going to jump... over... the...

"What are you doing?" she screeched, running out into the open.

Birchkit looked back, his eyes laced with sadness. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

And he flung himself over the edge.

"No!" She ran up and tried to grab onto anything – anything – to prevent him from falling. Her jaws bit nothing but air. Frightened, she slowly swiveled her eyes downward.

There, on the ground far below, was Birchkit.

Dead.

Holding back another shriek, she sprinted back into the forest. Trees and bushes blurred her vision as she darted through the undergrowth. She finally ran through the camp entrance and skidded to a halt in front of her brother. He laid there, his jaw slightly parted, his eyes glazed over, and his neck bent at a crooked angle. "Birchkit," she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "Why did you do this?"

Other cats began to crowd around the body. Some were too horrified to move. Others were demaning answers. Nightpaw paid no heed of them. She was only aware of her dead brother. It made no sense. Such a beautiful night – a wonderful day – had gone so horribly wrong. Was this the tension she had felt earlier in the air? Was this what had been wrong?

"How could you do this, StarClan?" she whispered into her brother's fur. "How could you let my brother die?"

And with that, she turned her head to the starry sky and yowled.

How could life be so cruel?

Oh. Uh. I'm perfectly aware that Birchkit's suicide was a little random. :/ I'd love to change that now, but I am far too lazy to write a few thousand words explaining how Birchkit fell into depression, hated his life, etc, etc.

In fact, this was originally going to tell the story of his life, but... /lazy Owlie is lazy

Reviews are appreciated. :3