Title: The Last Warrior
Author: Mij
Genre: Tragedy/Drama
Summary: It has been years since the Clan ruled the forest, which is now home to wandering bands of rogues and loners. Only one true warrior remains, hidden deep within the forest. He walks as a ghost now, remembering the past, wishing for the future, but ignoring the present...
Remember me and smile, for it's better to forget than remember me and cry
"Storm… Storm, hurry up, I'm getting cold!" Flash hissed to his brother. The normally quicker tom darted out from beneath a fern and joined his brother at the side of the river. Straight across the rising water was a path of wide, flat stones, damp and slick from the now-falling rain. Flash took the lead, leaping from one stone onto the next and then the next, Storm following close behind him until the brothers were on the other side of the river.
"Can we please take a break?" groaned Storm, "I'm tired and hungry."
"Do you want to be a warrior or not?" Flash snapped back, "C'mon, we're so close! It won't be much further, remember what that cat said?"
"How do we know she wasn't like that tom a moon ago who sent us on a wild goose chase all around those marshes?" Storm sniffed miserably. He huddled next to the closest tree an sneezed when a large droplet of water fell on his nose.
"We should have known better; that tom was sketchy and the marshes are far from the place the Warrior was supposed to have lived last." Flash flicked his tail, "This place is much closer. It's not much further. Get up, lazybones!"
Flash shoved his brother, who got up grudgingly but followed him as they wove deeper into the forest on this side of the river. Following an old rabbit trail as they had been told to do so, they stopped where it met a large boulder and turned left, weaving through the bushes. Storm sniffed miserably behind Flash, who was growing so excited that he could barely contain himself.
"Can you imagine, Storm? Real warriors! No more fighting, no more running, honor and courage and bravery, and the Warrior Code, the Warrior Code! Remember what mother used to say, about how warriors who followed the code perfectly would be given nine lives? Imagine, Storm, living nine times, being able to die nine times!"
"I'd rather not die once," Storm said grumpily, and almost ran into Flash when he stopped, "Hey, what're you-" He fell silent very shortly.
In front of them, too wide and deep to be a badger set, stretched a great maw of darkness in the dirt, a hole deep into the ground. The entrance was raked free of dead leaves and grass, and though the rain had washed much of it away, there was the distinct scent of cat that lingered, so faint that Flash could hardly smell it, but it was there. He glanced excitedly at his brother, and without another word walked down into the cave. Storm hesitated, sputtering a few words of excuses, but ultimately followed Flash into the darkness.
"Hello?" Flash called into the den. It was much warmer inside, and their pelts dripped rainwater onto the hard-packed ground noisily. A little further in the ground was covered in soft moss – soft but not grown, it had been placed there. Flash could see the tell-tale marks of claws in it.
"Hello!" he called again, louder. Storm winced behind him, "We want to become warriors, is anyone here?"
"There's no need to shout." Growled a rough voice. Despite himself, Flash jumped at the unfamiliar voice and Storm squeaked in fright. In the darkness in front of the warriors, a pair of round blue eyes slowly opened and blinked, "I am the Warrior you seek."
Flash opened his mouth to speak but a sharp look from the Warrior silenced him.
"No. Not you. I have heard enough of your voice." The blue eyes turned to Storm, "You. Tell me why you are here."
"We-we can because we wanted to become warriors," said Storm, holding his chin high despite his quivering voice. The blue eyes in the shadows narrowed, and then slowly moved along Storm's body, tracing the lean, wiry muscles over his patchy pelt, the dip in his haunches from long, hungry nights and the mountain ridges formed by his bony shoulders and ribs. They glanced over to Flash and saw the same hungry, mangy body and pelt, only brown and tabby than mottled gray. Both toms felt utterly bare before the warrior they could not see, almost as if they were kits again cowering under their mother's ferocious glare.
"You don't have what it takes," the Warrior finally sniffed, "Look at you – half starved, half wild. No honor, no courage. You two can't hunt well enough to feed yourselves adequately. Get lost."
"No!" Flash took a step forward and almost instantly regretted it. The Warrior's blue eye's flamed and there was a sharp breath – not a hiss, but a sharp intake of air, subtle enough to warn Flash not to take another step closer. Flash started to take a step back again, but then planted his paws firmly, "We've traveled for days to reach this place, we fought cats and searched for moons to find this cave. We're not leaving, not without becoming warriors."
"So you say," the Warrior's voice was very low now, "But I say that you are the leave – at once. I will not mentor you, I will not teach you the Warrior Code, I will not deign to smell your wretched fear-scent and carrion breath for another moment. Get out of my den."
Storm touched his brother's flank with his nose, "Flash, perhaps we should-"
"No! I'm going to be a warrior, if it's the last thing I do," Flash snarled and shouldered his brother away, taking another step towards the warrior.
The Warrior's blue eyes suddenly rose, and both Flash and Storm shrank beneath his terrible gaze. They scooted backwards instinctively, tails between their legs, but the warrior continued to advance. The shadows drew back from his pelt almost reluctantly, revealing thick, long fur groomed and sleek the color of snow, a broad, proud head on wide shoulders. Large, powerful claws, pink scars across his muzzle, chest, and flanks. He was old, but powerfully so, and had the bulk and strength he had when he was younger. His blue eyes were narrowed to slits with rage.
This was a true warrior.
Before he could say anymore the two brothers turned tail and ran out of the den, back into the rain. The stopped only when they could no longer see the river or the stepping-stones, beneath the canopy of a particularly large sycamore. They shivered, huddling together between the roots. Neither wanted to search for shelter, too scared and shocked by what they saw.
"Th-that was a warrior, Storm," Flash said through chattering teeth. Storm nodded quickly next to him in cold, jerky movements.
"I-I don't think w-we could e-ever be l-l-like that…"
The Warrior shook his head when the two rogues ran from him and turned back to his nest. Fled, just like the last and the one before them and the one before them. How many young cats would he turn away? It seemed as though warrior blood were running thinner and thinner these days. The two toms clearly were descended from warriors – he could see the look of WindClan in them, in their wiry bodies and high cheekbones and long legs and tails – but the warrior spirit had not remained. Cowards. The whole lot of them were cowards.
"Did you turn them away as well?" said a small, delicate voice. Another cat slid into the den from where the toms had exited, slender and brown with tabby stripes, of pure warrior decent. One of the last to have been born despite her parents not being part of a Clan. He collapsed back into his nest as she busied herself cleaning up the bones in the corner of the den and the moss the toms had kicked up in their panic.
"I didn't turn them away, they left." The Warrior growled and tucked his paws beneath him.
"Of course they did," the she-cat said with a hint of amusement in her meow, "Which is why they ran out of here in a terror and didn't even stay for dinner."
"I was going to invite them," the Warrior sniffed, "Or eat them. They were like quivering mice. It was revolting, but somehow delicious-looking."
"Oh stop it," the she-cat scolded, then flicked her ears, "I suppose no one could be better than Lion though."
"No. Lion would have been one of the greatest warriors if he had been born in a better time." The Warrior sighed, "I wish I could have given him a warrior name. I wish I could give you a warrior name, I wish I could bring back all of the warrior of old, so I wasn't so alone."
"You're not alone," the she-cat pressed her muzzle to his forehead comfortingly, "I'm here with you."
"Thank you, Dawn," the Warrior sighed and closed his eyes, "I appreciate everything that you do for me. I truly do."
The Warrior fell silent, and Dawn began to groom him, smoothing the thick fur that had become rumpled with frustration and anger. The fur fluffed with the humidity, reminding Dawn of a kit, but when she felt the strong, rough muscles beneath her tongue, quickly remembered that the Warrior was anything but a kit. She sat there for a long while, until she believed he was asleep, and then stood quietly. The Warrior, however, twitched when she left him. The turned back, only slightly surprised.
"Dawn…?" The Warrior's voice was tired and sad, "Outside of this den they call me the Warrior… The Warrior, the Warrior…"
"You are the Last Warrior," Dawn said very quietly.
The Warrior's eyes opened slowly, so sad and bright Dawn felt her heart might break. His voice was so quiet she could hardly hear it.
"Please… say my name again."
Dawn held back a sob at the sound of his voice and the Warrior's voice grew more desperate.
"Please… Please say my name. Please."
"Your name is Cloudtail," Dawn's voice struggled not to tremble, "You're Cloudtail, warrior of ThunderClan, the Last Warrior."
"Cloudtail…" the Warrior closed his eyes again. Dawn gave a hasty goodbye and hurried out of the den as fast as she could, but could not stop her ears from picking up the Warrior's words.
"Cloudtail… That's right… I had almost forgotten…"