Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors or Greystripe. I am just a mole's tail, so be quiet. :)

Claimer: I do own the following oneshot.

Set in Midnight

Moletail Fanfiction Productions Present...

A Studio Warriors Film...

DON'T GIVE UP

A Oneshot About Greystripe

I panted heavily. Blood trickled from my pads. My eyes were drooping. My ears were torn. I was a complete mess.

"Millie," I croaked. "Let's go back and rest. I can't make it. There's no point. I can't smell the Clans anywhere we go. Let's give up. Go back to your owner, Millie. I'll stay with Ravenpaw and Barley."

"No," my new mate mewed firmly. "We shall find ThunderClan, Firestar, and the Clans no matter what StarClan makes us endure."

"The forest warriors of the wildcat Clans live no longer. Each and every warrior is either dead or lost, I can feel it. We must give up," I meowed.

"A true warrior never gives up, Greystripe," Millie pointed out.

"Well, then!" I spat. "I guess you aren't a true warrior, and I'm not either, because we're going back. Come on. Get some sense into your head, Millie. You and I are just fat, lazy kittypets! I should have never let you convince me to do this, Millie!"

Millie glared at me evenly. "Greystripe, please. We need to try! We can't just say, 'Let's give up'. We've got to try. No giving up now."

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, there is giving up." Pausing, I realised that Millie was...well, not giving up. She wouldn't let me win the fight. Okay. We wouldn't give up. So you know what I did? I gave up. Hilarious!

"Greystripe?"

"Fine," I growled. "We'll look for those ridiculous Clans."

"Okay, good. That's right, Greystripe. One step after another. Don't give up."

I placed one paw in front of the other as I padded towards a part where the forest thickened. I had to keep moving. ThunderClan needs you, Greystripe. Firestar needs you. StarClan needs you. The Clans need you! Keep walking. Don't give in now.

I tried to cheer myself up. The trees were nice and tall. The grass was nice and green. The bushes were nice and short. My fur was all matted up, but Millie's was nice and silver. The trees, the grass, the bushes, Millie--they were all relatively pretty. Should we turn back now? No...How about now, then?

Come on, now, don't give up.