He woke up with a start. His aqua blue eyes blinked, and he tried to remember something…anything. Nothing was coming to him, so he tried to think of the present. He was cold. Dead, almost. But looking at the sky, he realized it was very warm and nothing seemed to cloud over the sun, so that was still a questionable aspect. Next, something warm and sticky was clotting his fur. He looked down and noticed a crimson wet substance steadily flowing from his throat, and…blood. That's what it was called. Suddenly, the field he was lying in had disappeared and in its place was a large canyon. At the bottom of the canyon, was him and a cat that look vaguely similar to him, but he couldn't place the other cat's name. Suddenly, the similar one leaped and bit him on the throat, and blood began to well up around the bite. One final yowl and the vision faded back to the field.
Suddenly, his chest began to hurt, and it continued to get worse until he couldn't stand it anymore. His jaws parted themselves and sucked in mouthfuls of air, and he soon remembered what that was called: Breathing. So, he sucked in as much air as he could and knew what he had to do next. Get up, and find help. The blood was still trickling out of him and for some reason; he had a feeling that if he lost too much blood, it would be fatal. So, he carefully put pressure on one front paw and pushed himself up, and quickly put down his opposite front paw to steady himself. His back legs lied limp behind him and he pushed them up, making him stand, but shakily. Impulsively he put one paw slowly in front of him, then the next one. His back legs followed, and slowly but sturdily he was walking forward. Each step made his stomach ache in pain, causing more blood to leak out of him. He quickly remembered that there was something called "running" and he should do it. Right now.
He sped up his paw steps and was soon flying across the dirt ground, leaving a trail of red behind him. Soon, he'd stumbled into what looked be a meeting of some sort, with cats. Everyone was intently fixated on a tree when he'd stumbled in, collapsing at the base of the tree. Most of the cats gasped, and one in particular looked especially in shock at seeing a dying cat slump into their meeting. She rushed up to him, and he noticed her right away. She looked very familiar…she rushed over to him, her voice hoarse and utterly surprised. "My name…my name is Mothwing." His mind clicked. Mothwing! "What's your name?" He searched his mind thoroughly and found a few things related to "name". Traitor, friend, brother, warrior, deputy…abruptly, as sudden as the bone-chilling winter hit the cool days of autumn, his name flew through his mind and hit him hard. "Hawkfrost."