A/N: So... here goes nothing. Y'all get the idea, this is a series of one-shots highlighting different what-if possibilities, so on, so forth.

Today I'm trying if Swiftpaw survived instead of Brightpaw.

What If Swiftpaw Survived Instead of Brightpaw?

. . .

Brightpaw's POV

"The Battle"

I guess it's my fault I didn't see common sense. Of course chasing after some unseen, unknown enemy was a terrible idea, and of course I decided to join Swiftpaw in his dangerous quest. It wasn't like I had known what was going to happen. And Bluestar should have made us warriors alongside Cloudtail! But... in the end, I guess there was really no one else to blame but myself for agreeing. For following.

"Come on, it's now or never," Swiftpaw said, looking back at me from the shadows outside the elders' den. "Are you coming or not?"

"I'm coming," I declared, picking up my pace to stand next to the black-and-white tom.

Swiftpaw nodded. "Good. Remember, after tonight Bluestar has got to make us warriors!"

He had to be right, and I knew it. We were doing a quest - a heroic quest braving the unknown - for the good of our Clan, like the best of warriors would do! There was no room for doubt about this. After tonight, we'd be preparing for our warrior vigils. We already deserved to be warriors like Cloudpaw, but when we told the Clan what was lurking at Snakerocks, it would be clearer than ever.

"I know a secret way out of camp. It's in the ferns behind this den," Swiftpaw told me. He had already explained this to me before, but I figured he was just trying to be a good leader since this was Swiftpaw's plan, after all.

He ducked behind the den and I followed, just a few pawsteps behind him at all times.

Before I knew it, we had pushed through the ferns and had started leaping up the ravine to the forest floor. It was a cold night, with a light wind that sliced through my ginger-and-white fur and chilled me to the bone.

I shivered, fluffing up my coat and hunching my shoulders.

"Okay, so now all we have to do is get to Snakerocks and figure out what's there!" Swiftpaw mewed, pausing his gait until we were shoulder-to-shoulder. He brushed his coat against mine, explaining with, "So we don't freeze."

Then, a moment later, he had shot off into the woods.

Without a second to spare I hared after him. Like his name suggested, Swiftpaw was fast - but I sought the warmth of his pelt and feared being alone in the night enough that I was running alongside him again in no time.

Swiftpaw ran quickly, efficiently, hopping over fallen logs and pushing through clumps of fern. He never wavered from his path, even when I doubted our abilities to pass the next obstacle. It was as if Swiftpaw's life depended on reaching Snakerocks as soon as possible, as if there was nothing more important to him than driving out the mysterious inhabitants and earning his warrior name.

I pondered this. I wondered, and I ran. I ran till I didn't think I could run no more, till I was certain my paws would drop off, but Swiftpaw was still there, still weaving through the trees, so I didn't stop. I couldn't.

It was only when I became aware of an unfamiliar scent - a strange one, dark and foreboding, that I dared slow down.

"Swiftpaw!" I hissed. "Swiftpaw, be careful!"

But the black-and-white tom didn't seem to care. He jumped over yet another downed tree so that he was just tail-lengths from the caves, stopping only to yowl back, "Don't worry! There's nothing here!"

It was as if his call was a signal.

A huge beast, made of shadows, flew out of the cave, and lunged for Swiftpaw's throat. He just barely twisted in time, his eyes fixed on my own as if drawing strength and speed from my terrified orbs.

The dog landed roughly on the ground, larger than any housepet I'd seen with my mentor, Whitestorm, with teeth that seemed to glisten even without much, if any, moonlight. As the dog realized it hadn't quite gotten Swiftpaw, it started another leap - this time for me.

I was too scared to do anything but stand there.

Slavering jaws fasted around my throat, shaking me like I had triumphantly done so to my own first catch. In that moment, I figured that this, this absolute terror, was how prey must feel - the fright of prey as its hunter's jaws fasten around them.

I would have died then, frozen still and at the nonexistent mercy of the dog, if Swiftpaw hadn't thrown himself, screeching, at the terrible beast. His yowls brought me back to life and suddenly I was thrashing viciously, my claws swiping at the dog's massive chest in vain.

Suddenly, I fell to the ground.

The dog pulled back, recalculating his attacks, and Swiftpaw raced to my side.

"Brightpaw!" he breathed, wide-eyed. "Are you okay? Don't worry, it's just one dog, we can drive him off and we'll be warriors. Just remember, we're going to be fine and we're going to be warriors."

I gave a tiny nod and rose, shaking, to my paws.

For a few moments, there was hope.

But then, as Swiftpaw and I rolled to the side and slashed our claws at the dog's side... Well, that was when things got bad.

At least six more dogs were bounding across the clearing towards us, all of them four times our size of bigger. They were growling so loud that the earth seemed to shake under my paws and all I could think was that we were doomed.

"Pack, pack," they snarled. "Kill, kill."

When they reached us, everything turned into a whirl of claws, paws, and jaws, all three articles flashing and whirling. I lashed out at everything I could, dodged all the attacks I saw coming, yowled every time a dog got me. I could still hear Swiftpaw fighting like all of LionClan beside me as he spit and hissed and howled in rage and defiance.

I didn't know what I was doing anymore. It was like my body was listening to someone else and I was just a ghost of my past self, watching but doing nothing.

Then everything turned upside down and the air was knocked out of me. All I could see was dust, and as that cleared, legs and blood became clear. I couldn't move anymore, couldn't do anything but succumb to sheer exhaustion as the dogs battered my body around, knowing that I, the prize, was theirs.

At one point, I noticed Swiftpaw break away from the pack and, in desperation, fly towards a tree. The dogs tried to knock him down again, but Swiftpaw made it to safety just in time and the large, heavy dogs were unable to follow.

Enraged, they turned their fury on me.

It wasn't long before the world went dark and I knew my life was slipping away.

. . .

Swiftpaw's POV

"A Cruel World"

If I had known Brightpaw would have died, I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have even suggested the stupid Snakerocks raid. I blamed myself for her death, for climbing that tree and leaving her to the dogs when my desperation took control. I wasn't much better off, of course - with most of my tail chewed off and one forepaw permanently twisted, alongside broken ribs and other various wounds. I was made a warrior - but it was not like anything I had imagined my warrior ceremony would be.

Slowly, I became aware of aches and pains all over my body. My tail seemed to be on fire and one forepaw screamed in agony, but exhaustion tugged at my eyelids. I was unable to truly comprehend the pain, just the fact I was seemingly alive.

My eyes opened of their own accord.

Where am I? I wondered. My head spun as I took in my surroundings.

"Twistedfoot? Twistedfoot, you're awake!"

Cinderpelt's voice jolted me. Suddenly, everything became crystal clear.

Brightpaw. The dogs. Brightpaw. The tree. Brightpaw. The medicine den. Brightpaw.

The lame medicine cat hobbled over to me, her eyes wide and concerned. "How do you feel? You've been asleep for three days!"

"I-where's Brightpaw?" I croaked, searching the medicine den for my companion. "She's okay, right?"

Cinderpelt's sympathetic gaze told me all I needed to know. "I'm sorry, Twistedfoot... She was already dead by the time we found you."

The whole world seemed to sway and collapse around me. She was dead? No, that couldn't be! Surely this was all a dream, and soon enough I'd wake up and Brightpaw and I would just be in our nests in the apprentice den. I'd tell the other apprentices about my silly dream of sneaking out to Snakerocks to earn our warrior names and we'd all laugh about how stupid it was, and everything would be fine. Brightpaw would be alive.

Deciding it was just a dream like I'd proposed, - it had to be - I realized what Cinderpelt was calling me.

"Twistedfoot?" I said simply, dumbfounded.

Cinderpelt winced. "After we found you and brought you back to camp... well, we thought you would die, too. Bluestar gave you your warrior name - Twistedfoot, because of your paw."

I looked down at the paw that had been throbbing, only to see it was twisted backwards and heavily gnawed. Shocked, I just swung my gaze back to the medicine cat.

"Twistedfoot," I repeated.

Looking desperate to lighten the mood, - like she knew what true desperation was - Cinderpelt tossed me a joyless smile. "Well, she couldn't do Halftail, could she?"

"Yeah," I mewed, not knowing what else to say.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the only thing that mattered - waking up in the real world, where Brightpaw wasn't dead and everything was fine - and shut my eyes tight.

Cinderpelt didn't say another word.

. . .

Cinderpelt's POV

"Soulless"

It was hard to watch. As the days passed, Twistedfoot's haunted look never gave, and soon I felt myself being sucked into his constant gloom. The young tom seemed not to care for anything - no outrage at his terrible name, no delight at Bramblekit and Tawnykit's apprentice ceremonies. Just devastation that Brightpaw was dead. Ashpaw and Thornpaw, despite his grief for his sister, visited him often in the first few days. But soon, Twistedfoot's depressed attitude drove even his closest friends away, and I was left alone to try and heal the tom's physical and mental wounds by myself.

"I'm not hungry," Twistedfoot muttered.

I sighed, knowing that pressing him wouldn't get me anywhere. Tucking the rabbit closer to Twistedfoot's nest, I let him be, instead slipping out of my den. Fireheart spotted me and padded over, his green eyes wide and searching.

"How is he?" Fireheart asked.

"Let's see, he refuses to eat, to drink, or to be anything but depressed," I listed, upset with myself and Twistedfoot. "It's like his soul died with Brightpaw."

Fireheart rested his tail tip against my flank. "You're doing your best," he said. "Maybe he just needs some time to recover."

"He's had time," I pointed out. "It doesn't seem to be doing him any good."

Sighing, I let Fireheart lead me over to the fresh-kill pile. He selected two voles, passing me one and insisting I got something to eat. I did, and so did he. We nibbled at our meals in silence, with me trying to feed myself hope instead of vole with empty promises and helpless declarations of Twistedfoot making a miraculous recovery and Fireheart doing something of his own.

"Do you call him Twistedfoot?"

"What?" Startled, I jerked my head over to face the ginger tom. "Y-yeah... It's his name now, whether we like it or not."

Fireheart narrowed his eyes. "Then don't. He needs to be called Swiftpaw. That is a name of good times, a name that he is proud of and thinks of as his own. Surely, with all this commotion and Brightpaw's death, calling him Twistedfoot simply distances him from the real world?"

I nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

My companion copied the gesture.

"And maybe if we let him sleep in the apprentice den," I added somewhat hesitantly. "His wounds are good enough that he doesn't need me hovering over him all the time. Being in his own den would be, well, familiar."

Fireheart twitched one ear. "Right! Let him be around his friends more often. Let him see the Clan is still going, that Brightpaw's death isn't the only thing in the world that matters."

And for the first time in days, Fireheart brought me hope that I myself could not summon. I found Ashpaw and Thornpaw and told them what was happening, asking for them to just try and make the apprentice den a positive place to be. To not let Twiste-Swiftpaw be alone with his dark thoughts and to surround him with the hustle and bustle, the joys and delights of an apprentice's life.

Everything was ready by the end of the day. I padded into my den and roused Swiftpaw, noting that the rabbit hadn't been touched. My hope wavered, but stood strong.

"Swiftpaw, get on your paws," I ordered, not missing the tiny twitch of one ear at the sound of his old name.

"Why?" he muttered, not looking at me.

Grabbing his scruff, I tugged the black-and-white tom to his feet. He stood on three paws, his twisted one in the air, but kept his balance. I nudged him towards the entrance, harder and harder until Swiftpaw was forced to move if he didn't want to fall over. Together, we hobbled across the camp to the apprentice den where Ashpaw and Thornpaw were waiting inside.

I knew this was the right thing to do as Ashpaw, laughing at some joke Thornpaw had told, waved Swiftpaw over and started telling him about some hunting expedition that landed him in a pile of brambles earlier that day.

With any luck, Swiftpaw would soon be on his feet on his own accord.

. . .

Firestar's POV

"A Warrior's Name"

StarClan must have been on our side, for under our new plan Swiftpaw slowly lightened and returned to his normal self. Though hard times came as we discovered the dog pack and Bluestar's death, good things had also come - with Ashpaw and Thornpaw's help, Swiftpaw had learned to accommodate his twisted paw and lost tail and was constantly hunting and sparring with his friends. Renaming him and making him a true warrior was the least I could do for the tom.

"I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this apprentice. He has trained hard to learn the ways of your noble code, and for that, I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn," I began, turning to the apprentice. "Thornpaw, do you promise to protect and defend your Clan at all times, even at the cost of your life?"

Thornpaw looked me in the eyes, gaze full to the brim with fierce determination. "I do."

"Then from now on, you shall be known as Thornclaw. StarClan honors your loyalty and determination and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan," I finished, resting my muzzle on the new warrior's shoulder as he licked my shoulder respectfully in return.

I hoped he understood why I used loyalty and determination despite how simple and common they seemed to be. Loyalty, for he never gave up on Swiftpaw, and determination, for he kept going, kept training the tom until he was as capable as any warrior. Ashpaw would probably have the same values mentioned in his own warrior ceremony, I figured.

As ThunderClan finished calling out Thornclaw's new name, I raised my tail for silence.

The noise died down, my cats looking up at me with surprise. Clearly, there was nothing else to be mentioned... right?

"Before you all return to your duties, there is something more that I'd like to say," I started confidently. "First off, I want to honor the apprentice who should have been here, receiving her warrior name alongside her brother, Thornclaw. You all know how Brightpaw met her death trying to hunt down the dog pack who threatened us. Her Clan will always remember that."

A murmur of agreement rose my Clan, grief dampening every face for a heartbeat as they remembered the bright-spirited, popular young apprentice.

"In addition, I'd like to give thanks from the Clan to Fernpaw and Ashpaw. They showed the bravery of warriors in the race against the dogs, and although they are still too young to receive their warrior names, we honor them," I continued, quickly running through the upcoming ceremony in my head to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

Calls rang out, cheering the two apprentices names. I spotted Dustpelt's eyes shining with delight and gave a small purr of amusement. It was obvious that the warrior was head over paws for Fernpaw. I narrowed my eyes when they landed on Darkstripe staring coldly in front of him, not even bothering to turn to his apprentice. I was more than certain at this point that he had fed Sorrelkit the deathberries on purpose.

Once the noise died down, I got on to the ceremony. "There's one more ceremony to perform," I explained to ThunderClan, beckoning Swi- technically Twistedfoot, though not for much longer - forwards.

Eyes clear and focused on me, Twistedfoot stepped out of the crowd and walked forwards, stopping just in front of me.

A murmur of surprise rang through the watching the cats. I realized that many of them would not know what about to happen; the name-changing ceremony I was about to do had not been held for many seasons and most, if not all of the cats, save for the elders, had probably never seen one of these happen before.

I ran through the ceremony one more time, took a deep breath, and started.

"Spirits of StarClan, you know every cat by name. I ask you now to take away the name from the cat you see before you, for it no longer stands for what he is." Pausing, I watched the now-nameless tom stand calmly before me, waiting patiently for his new name. Waiting for the name that would, at last, free him from the trauma of his apprenticeship. "By my authority as Clan leader and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name. From this moment on he will be know as Swiftheart. Even though his body may bear great scars, he has grown past these limitations and proved himself a warrior of great capacities. I see in him a cat stronger and braver than any other, a cat who welcomes a laugh and good times but remains unafraid of the bad times."

I stepped forwards and rested my muzzle on his forehead like I had done with Thornclaw. And, like any new warrior, he responded by licking my shoulder.

When I moved away, the whole Clan started calling his new - his true - name. Thornclaw and Ashpaw bounded over, eyes shining as they led their friend into the swarm of his Clanmates.

As the Clan returned to their duties, I noticed Cinderpelt had come up beside me.

"He will never forgot how he got his scars," she murmured, watching Swiftheart lead a hunting patrol out of camp. "But at the same time, his past strengthens him. He will never let himself fall again, will never leave a Clanmate in need."

I nodded, and we sat there in silence for a few moments.

Then, almost as if an afterthought, Cinderpelt mewed, "I wonder... what do you think would have happened if it was Brightpaw who survived?"

A/N: Well, there goes nothing. I spent a lot of time debating what Swiftpaw's warrior name would be; I didn't want to do Swiftheart because that was Brightpaw's, but I couldn't think of anything else that represented him now, as he deserved to be represented. So... yeah.

*is hoping I did this what-if justice*

Anyways... uh... I'm new to this story thingy so I mean I'd be super happy if I someone reviewed? Honestly, I'd probs be happy with like fifteen views but who knows.

Also if you have, like, suggestions for other what-ifs I'd love to hear them.

So... bye?

Syrup