He sits beside the lake with its slow flowing water, the burbling sounds that echo through his soft black ears and the stones that seem to dig into his hard paws.
Oh, how unfair life was.
He remembered himself as an apprentice. Just a small black scrap of fur who's only wish was for his father to acknowledge him. He remembers the looks his father gave the pretty ThunderClan medicine cat with her soft, shimmering, pale brown tabby fur. Her soft, wise and clever amber eyes that seemed to burn softly with the knowledge of the stars. How her small, delicate white paws and white chest seemed to contrast perfectly with her brown tabby pelt and bright amber eyes. His own father's bright blue eyes always full of longing and regretwhenever his gaze fell upon the ThunderClan leader's daughter.
But whenever he turned to him. His own legal son, his bright blue hues were always accented with regret. Sheer, pure, utter regret. No other emotion contained in his dark blue eyes.
He claws the stones on the lake bed as the firey embers of anger seem to reach out to engulf him. How bitter he felt towards his father. How he only wanted him to notice him instead of his hare-brained relatives across the lake!
He did anything and everything to grab his father's attention. He would always try his best for a word of praise from his father. Always sacrificing the most juicy tidbits of rabbit for his utterly ignorant father while he, Breezepaw chose only the most measly morsels of prey for himself.
It wasn't fair that his father showered the ThunderClan medicine cat with all his love, leaving he and his mother, Nightcloud to themselves. It wasn't fairthat he paid more attention to his kits across the lake than to his own son in the Warriors den.
Was he a mistake? An imperfection?
Amber hues narrowed to slits as he realizes his paw had been sliced open by a particularly sharp shard of stone. A crazy, hateful glint in his eyes and a cold sneer spreading across his features.
Perhaps that was his reason to join the Dark Forest.
He smashed his paws against the rock, feeling his blood splatter on the smooth, silvery gray rocks of the lake-bed.
He would wipe that smug look off his father's stupid face with his own claws. His own fangs bared, his black fur ruffled, standing over his father's blood-drenched body.
And maybe, just maybe, his drive for revenge would finally be satisfied.