A/N: Moons ago, ShadowClan was conquered by ThunderClan. Only one apprentice escaped. Now he is back, and he wants revenge. He wants power. (And in this story, cats CAN cry.)
Disclaimer: Erin Hunter owns Warriors
The attack had come out of nowhere.
One moment ago, Ashpaw had been playing with his parents, their laughter echoing in the trees, his home. One moment ago, Ashpaw had been happy, carefree. One moment ago, the most he worried about being the butterfly, spun of sunshine and dreams, fluttering out of his reach. That was one moment ago, when all was well.
Then the attack came.
Ashpaw had been chasing a dandelion seed, carried by the wind, holding sunlight in its gossamer wings. He had followed it out of camp, into the darkness of ShadowClan territory. He had been afraid of the darkness, but it had hid him from the invaders. The invaders that attacked his Clan, killing all.
"ThunderClan is attacking!" The cry split the previously tranquil air, and it erupted into sounds of battle.
He was too far away to see anything, but he heard it all. He heard the screams, the yells, the cries for mercy. He heard the clashing of claws, of teeth, of two forces with opposite goals: conquest and defense. He heard it all, and could see it all in his mind, the gore, the blood, the death. He heard fighting, but he saw no reason at all,
No reason at all, except for the desire for dominance.
Why were ThunderClan attacking? The normally docile ThunderClan, didn't they all try to avoid violence and conflict, resolving everything through words instead? ThunderClan never attacked unprovokedly, and had been at peace with ShadowCaln for moons. So why, why now, why did they choose to plunge history into bloodshed, into death?
Why?
He remembered now. He remembered seeing it on his leader, Shadestar's, face. He remembered hearing it being whispered throughout the camp, quiet and subtle as a night breeze, yet spreading faster than wildfire. He had seen it bring worry and fear into many a cat's heart, and now it struck fear in his own. ThunderClan had grown corrupt under an evil ruler and had wandered away from the guidance of StarClan, and now thirsted for power, power, power over everything. They had already conquered RiverClan and attacked WindClan, and now wanted even more power.
They wanted power.
ThunderClan had won the battle, he realized with horror. The sounds of battle had stopped, replaced by triumphant yowls. ShadowClan were silent in defeat, but rebellion still sparked in each of their hearts.
"ShadowClan is no more!" A ThunderClan cat screamed. "Shadestar is dead! You are all our slaves now!" The other ThunderClan cats caterwauled in agreement.
"No! You cannot do this!" His heart froze in horror as he recognized his parents' voices. "There have always been four Clans in the forest! It is the will of StarClan!"
He could feel the ThunderClan leader's anger at these words. Feel the fury directed at his parents. Without meaning to, his legs started to move, and they carried him back to camp, towards his parents. His eyes were frantic with horror. Mother! Father!
He skidded to a halt directly outside camp, unable to go on. His legs were locked in horror, and he could only watch, ice spreading cold tendrils throughout his chest, as his parents were dragged to the front and executed.
Executed.
His parents were dead.
Their blood splattered the ground like crimson blossoms of Death himself. Their screams pierce the horrified atmosphere of what was once the ShadowClan camp, and they were aimed at him, his mind, his sanity. His soul shattered with grief, and he screamed, too.
"Mother! Father! No!"
It cannot be, he told himself, it cannot be. It is just a dream. Yes, just a dream, something his mind created, just something born of the shadows of fear. It was not true, it is not true, it is all a dream. He shut the rest of the world away and closes his eyes from the terrible scene, focusing on just a single thought: no, no, no. Everything else fades into silence, and the thought was suddenly loud as thunder, booming through his head. No, no, no. It was all a dream, all just a nightmare, and when he woke up the sky would still be bright with sunshine, and the birds would still sing, and his parents would still be alive. But when he opened his eyes, the gruesome scene remained, and his dying mother's eyes locked upon his.
"Ashpaw. Run."
Run. Run. Run. The denial is gone now, replaced by the single, last order: run. Run. Flee. Run to save your life.
The ThunderClan leader yowled something at the frozen once-ShadowClan cats, her eyes shooting daggers, but he heard nothing. Her angry screeches must have echoed throughout the pine trees, shaking the wind, but he heard nothing, nothing. He was disconnected from the world, and all he heard was the silence, and his mother's last words: run.
He turned and ran, ran as fast, as far as he could, away from ShadowClan, or what was left of it. He ran from it all, trying to leave it all behind, all his numbing horror, all his pounding disbelief, all his cold grief. He ran, just like his mother had told him to, he fled. He ran until he could run no more. But still the memories clung to his mind like cobwebs, so he kept running.
Finally, he stopped, and looked around. Nothing was familiar. The many pine trees that grew in his old home had been replaced by a few scraggly trees and a large expanse of rock. He looked further, and in the growing darkness could barely make out distant prinpricks of artificial light. Twolegplace. He remembered. They call it Twolegplace.
"Ashpaw. Run."
His mother's voice echoed in his mind, but it grew fainter and fainter. It soon faded away completely, just like his parents had faded from his life. Soon, all that remained were the hollow words.
Ashpaw.
Run.
Ashpaw, he remembered. My name was Ashpaw. Before, he had smiled and responded when the name was called. Now, he felt numb. And how fitting the name was, how well it described his life. His life, once a bonfire of joy, all that remained now was a pile of ashes. Ashes, that fell like the snow. Just a pile of ashes, gray like the cold, cold stone beneath his paws, gray like the clouds that obscured the sun, the ones that held no light or dark, just gray. His life, his world, it was all stained gray by the tears of sorrow that fell silently from his eyes.
His mother had wanted him to run, not to fight. To run. She knew that he was not strong enough to fight. She knew he could not save them, could not defend them, could not protect him. She knew that he was not strong enough to uprise, uprise like flames refusing to be quenched. She knew that he was not a fire, one that burned away all injustice, but just a soft pile of ashes, easily scattered by the wind. She knew that he was weak. Although he had trained for moons to become a warrior, he was weak. He was too weak to fight, so all he could do was run. (A/N: Okay, this is getting out of hand now.)
The strong live, he realized, the weak die. He was weak. He should've died. But he lived. Did that mean that he was strong?
No, he thought bitterly. He had just been able to escape this time, just been able to flee. Fleeing wasn't strong, it was cowardly. Weak. There were stronger enemies out there, waiting in the shadows, and because he was weak, he would be squashed like a bug.
So I'm weak.
He suddenly felt anger, a spark of fire in his gray soul. The spark spread, and the pile of ashes that he was ignited, beginning to burn softly, not yet a flame, but not gray either. Fire had not spread yet, but the ember was there, burning. So he asked himself: why should he be weak? Why should he bow down to others? Why should he let the ThunderClan leader run amok, ripping apart lives? Why should he? Why should he let his parents' deaths go unavenged? Why? It was this type of thinking, the belief that you are weak, that created the weakness of mind, of soul. So he was weak. Why should he be?
So his life was a pile of ashes. So his happiness was all gone. So what? The damage was repairable. His bonfire of joy, it had gone out, but the ashes were already catching fire from that one spark. The ashes glowed, softly at first, fragile. But more sparks come, each from a new thought, a new will to not be weak anymore, a new will to be strong. To be powerful. Powerful.
Power.
He realized it now. He realized that it was not strength he lacked, but power. He had been helpless when ThunderClan attacked, powerless. If he had had power…..
He smiled. The sparks igniting the ashes inside him were burning fiercer now. They were no longer sparks and ashes now, they were an ember. An ember, dark red in color, glowing bloodred. The bonfire of joy had been rebuilt, only this time it was not a gentle bonfire. Although the ember was small, it spoke of leaping flames, of intense heat radiating off everything, of bloodred wildfires. It was the forerunner of a wildfire, one that had not happiness flickering inside it, but a cold revenge, a warning of destruction, a thirst for power. Power. The ember inside him would ultimately catch on fire, and the flames would bring him power, power he needed to be strong.
"Ember," He whispered, "My name will be Ember. Ember, that will erupt into flame, the flame of destruction that will destroy ThunderClan!"
Ember turned his head towards the west, where the sun set. The clouds shifted, and red light spilled forth, bathing him in the sun's blood. The sun peered through at him, shooting bloodred rays of light at him, bloodred like the ember within him, as it gave him its approval.
Five moons have passed since that fateful day. Five moons, filled not with the joy of growing up but the bloodshed of the streets and alleyways of Twolegplace, the bloodshed of fighting to survive. Ember had started out at the bottom of feral cat society, but he had clawed his way to the top, and now stands, unwavering, in front of his own army.
He had gathered cats, far and wide, to form his own army.
Why?
Ember is going to attack ThunderClan, the Clan that had taken his parents' lives. He will attack. He will avenge. He will kill.
Tonight.
Under the cover of the night, he will attack. He, and his army of feral cats, each hating the Clans in some way. They will silently surround the former ShadowClan camp, which is where the Thunderclan leader decided to live. In five moons, WindClan had fallen to ThunderClan, and so now the whole forest was under ThunderClan rule. No problem. All the important cats, the leaders and officials, they all slept at former ShadowClan's camp, unaware. By day they ruled the forest, but at night they were defenseless. So what if they hold al the power if the world in their claws?
He smiles.
Because they won't for long.
Ember knows that the cats of the other Clans, WindClan, ShadowClan, and RiverClan, they are resentful of ThunderClan rule. They want to rebel, but they do not dare. But Ember will come, with his giant army of fighters, and they will join his side, drawn by the dark allure of his power. Who ThunderClan thought were their allies will actually be weapons used against them.
"No! You cannot do this! There have always been four Clans in the forest! It is the will of StarClan!"
His parents' words echo in his head. Ember knows that his parents are cats loyal to StarClan, so he abides by their wishes. He will separate the Clans, return them to their four territories, then he will leave them be. There have always been four Clans in the forest, and there will always be. He will abide by his parents' wishes.
The feral cats of his army will be unhappy, wanting to tear the Clans apart, but that is no matter. They are just his pawns, just pieces in a board game. Pawns do not question orders. They only move one way, forward. Anyone who disobeys is dead. Just yesterday, he had killed one that tried to escape, setting an example. The feral cats will be upset that they do not get revenge, but by the time resent turns to anger and rebellion, they will have been disposed of.
Now, he stands in front of his army. Night has fallen, and the darkness blankets all, obscuring silent night creatures from peering eyes. The stage is set. It is time to move.
Ember flicks his tail, and his army moves forward. They sweep into Clan territory, silent and deadly as a disease spreading through the forest, killing thousands.
First, they reach ThunderClan territory. The trees reek of those terrible cats, and Ember's fur bristles in anger. Moonlight pierces the thick foliage, dappling the forest floor black and silver, rippling it like a lake's surface. Ember skirts the patches of light, just in case there are ThunderClan guards out, but there are none. The territory is deserted, silent. There are no noises at all, not even those of prey. Ember sniffs. They are so sure of their strength that they don't even bother to put up a guard. And is their territory not worthy to house their great selves? How arrogant.
They cross the border between ThunderClan territory and RiverClan's using the Twoleg bridge. Now Ember is wary, because he smell cats. RiverClan, mixed with a bit of ThunderClan. Fresh.
Ember signals for the others to get down lower with his tail. There is no concealing cover of trees here, only the grass and the soft sound of the rushing river.
Ember hears voices. He recognizes the ThunderClan accent, and unsheathes his claws, ready to fight. His cats follow suit. But the ThunderClan cats don't notice.
"That kit is a troublemaker." One says. "we need to deal with it."
"Oh, can I do it?" The other lets out a sadistic giggle. "it's been ages since I felt blood on my claws. I'll deal with it just like I dealt with the other one!" Both of them laugh.
Ember feels anger bubbling in his chest. Deal with, they had said. Deal with the kit. In his mind's eye, ember sees a tiny body torn apart, blood caking its fur. He sees a pair of eyes glazed over in death, a mouth never to laugh again, four paws never to run. He lets out an angry snarl, and the two ThunderClan cats whip around, but it is too late for them. Before they even see him, he leaps out and slashes one in the throat, hard. She lets out a dying gurgle, and her blood falls, but before it even touches the ground, Ember's teeth had already found the other's neck, biting down until a snap is heard. They are dead.
Good.
Silently, Ember moves on, leaving the two corpses in the dust, where they deserve to be. His army follows.
The RiverClan cats are stunned. Never before had they seen such indifferent murder, such cold skill. They stare in horrified silence, until a kit breaks it as he squeals and falls over, revealing a large gash across his back. His mother gasps, terrified for her kits life, but to her surprise, Ember stops and helps the kit up.
"They did this to you, didn't they?" Ember murmurs "They hurt you." The kit nods, scared.
Ember turns and addresses the gaping RiverClan cats. "Well, they are dead now, and you are all free now. Free from them." The RiverClan cats stare for a moment longer, then begin to cheer in joy.
'Help us fight ThunderClan! Help usdefeat them, and you will be a Clan again! Help us overthrow hem, and restore your former rights!" Ember yowls.
"Of course." A RiverClan elder steps up. "I was the spokesperson of RiverClan. I say we fight, and I speak not just for myself, but for the whole Clan." RiverClan cheers harder, and sweeps away fro the broken camp with Ember's army, towards WindClan. They all begin to run, running for the freedom of the wind blowing for their fur, running for the joy of being liberated. Soon, they are joined by WindClan, and they pound towards ShadowClan territory, where the ThunderClan cats rest.
Sleep tight, my dear ThunderClan cats, Ember thinks, smiling. Sleep tight—forever. And as they reach the border of ShadowClan territory, Ember stops to relish the power he holds. Five moons ago, he knew no such thing this great, only the wild desire for it. Five moons ago, he could not even dream of having this much strength, this much power. Now, he held it all in his claws, and it was all his, all his to command, to control. The ember inside him, it burst into flame now, flames of excitement at this much power, flames flickering with the undying need for revenge. Power was his now, and the wildfire inside him begged him to use it. He smiled one more time, as Ember leaves his body, replaced by a new cat.
"I am no longer Ember now," he announces. "My name is now Wildfire."
Then he gives the signal.
"Attack."
A/N: The beginning was funky, too fast, but I like how the end turned out.