Author's Note: There's something about little Swiftpaw. I always loved him. I loved him to death, that little furball of poofyness. xP. I suppose it's because he reminded me of my favorite kitty, Moonlight, whom I miss with all my heart and soul.
Might contain SPOILERS if you have not read A Dangerous Path.
Disclaimer: I do not own Swiftpaw (obviously). He belongs to Erin Hunter.
xxx
Destiny can be the most brutal force of all. Especially when it's painted in crimson.
But you must always whisper to yourself silently, It's the will of StarClan. Destiny is and has always been the will of StarClan - they write it, they spin it, just like they spin the glittering specs of fallen, warrior-embodied stars that make up Silverpelt. StarClan keeps destiny under their claws - allows it to lay in peaceable sleep until the moment they will it to awaken.
Sometime's StarClan chooses the colors of the destiny. There's gold - for untamed pride and honor, white for spirit and unflawed leadership, pink for sweet love and trust. Those were some the few destinies that formed a chain of chaste pureness, yet even bottled a thick strand of interpendence when looked upon with a trained eye. They were the destinies you wanted to follow, the destinies you wanted to swim through until you reached the furthest tides.
Then there were the destinies horrible beyond belief - blue for rising sorrow and dreams that had once been as close as the nearest horizon but continuously met a crushing fate. Black for void darkness and nothingness. But beyond all, the worst was crimson - for blood and death.
Death...
Death...
Death...
His time has come.
xxx
There the young tom stood, washed in the crimson light that arose from the dying sun. He was a young and reckless tom, and maybe a bit too competitive for his own good. He was an apprentice who was unafraid of destiny and preferred to overcome his future than run from it. The future did not scare him at all, nor would it ever send fear to chill him. He was fierce in battle and clever and brave, with finely chiseled muscles and a powerful visage, at that.
Sometimes he'd be asked, "Why are you such a strong little dung?"
True, there was no denying that he was strong. He was growing, and had been taught well by an excellent mentor, even though his mentor wavered a bit on the cowardly side. He had battled the mightiest senior warrior of his Clan to prove his fighting skills and even squashed out a sharpened praise. He might have even left his mark on those RiverClan cats at the battle near Sunning Rocks one day, had not the 'mighty' mousebrain deputy send him away from the battle to fetch more warriors.
And there that young tom continued to stand, half-hidden in the dark shadows that were beginning to crawl and sink into the camp at the late dusk hour. The black patches of his pelt blended into the darkness behind him, though the sleekness of his white fur reflected the setting light, which dominated the colorless hue to a faint scarlet. A pool of emotions flooded the depths of his amber eyes as he reminded himself sourly that he still was under the name of Swiftpaw.
Swiftpaw.
Jealously and anger simmered at his heart, leaving charred marks to score at his insides. All he felt was rage and venemous envy as he crouched on the edge of the camp, lost in a mixture of shadows and dying sunlight. He flicked out his talons, allowing them to dig softly into the earth beneath him. He deserved to be a warrior. His time had come. That idiot poofball, Cloudtail, had become an apprentice before him, and he was older than that stupid mousebrain! What a poor and most paehtetic decision Bluestar had made! Swiftpaw so enraged with his leader that he wished he could just whip out his claws and smack sense into her thick head.
That piece of crowfood filth, Swiftpaw spat bitterly to himself. I should be a warrior by now! Well...that'll all change by tomorrow. I'll show her. She'll see. They'll all see!
Being headstrong and brave might not always be a good thing, but that was certainly what Swiftpaw was.
Thoughts clouded the young tomcat's mind's eye, along with his surroundings, the trees and earth forming one blur of emerald and deep sienna. He knew nothing more at this moment but solid determination. He would prove himself to his leader tonight so that maybe he'd finally have his warrior ceremony. Oh, what joy that brought a warmth to soothe the tips of his whiskers! Maybe he'd become Swiftriver, or Swiftfoot, or Swifttail after his mentor, and maybe he'd be able to get his own apprentice!.
The young tom flattened his ears and drew his lips into a snarl. He knew what he wanted. Becoming a warrior would make such a turning point in his life, and send him to pad along an even greater path, wade up an even stronger river current.
Soon. Soon.
xxx
A flicker in the shadows caught Swiftpaw's eye, causing him to immediately flick up his bold head. Eyes narrowed, forming thin strips of eternal amber. Cautiously, he allowed the murmur escaped his lips and merge with the night.
"Brightpaw?"
Dark green optics flashed in his direction. A wiry frame padded into view from the shadows, swept in a coat of tawny-gold and dark stripes. This young cat held a worried countenance, and when he opened his jowls to speak, Swiftpaw fiercely cut him off.
"Thornpaw! What the HECK are you doing here?"
Thornpaw slid closer, his paws leaving soft imprints in the earth. His pace was slow and tentative, as though he expected his friend to run off without warning, to vanish and melt away into the night. When he spoke, he kept his voice leveled, but he could not betray the fearful concern that stung his speech.
"Swiftpaw, this isn't a good idea. Believe me, this isn't a good idea. You don't know what's out there or what's been killing all the prey. It could be something dangerous. You could get hurt!"
Swiftpaw lazily flicked his tail, looking disconcerned. "M-kay. Listen, Thornpaw, don't you understand? I'm willing to go out there and fight those things if it means I can earn my warrior name! I'm not afraid! This might be our only chance. I'm not going to let fear stop me!" His voice was etched with ferocity with the intensity of his determination. With a twitch of his black-rimmed ear, he lowered his voice to a raspy hiss. "Will you come with me and Brightpaw, Thornpaw?"
Thornpaw flattened his ears and took a hasty pawstep backwards. His pale eyes were round with fearful realization of what his friend was willing to do to recieve his warrior name. "S-Swiftpaw..."
He was about to speak, but a rush of soft fur brushed against his side. Swiftpaw smirked in satisfaction as Brightpaw slipped elegantly towards him, her pelt gleaming in the dimmest of light cast by the sinking sun. Her fur was sleek and well-groomed as always, though it stuck up in apprehension and excitement along the back of her neck.
"Yes," Brightpaw purred. "Will you come with us, Thornpaw? Just think - we'll have our warrior ceremonies in no time! All three of us!"
Thornpaw stared at his sister, his fur bristling along his spine. "Brightpaw, please don't do this. Listen to me- I'm your brother. Both of you- don't go. Stay. Please."
"Sorry," said Swiftly airly, giving his tail a long and sweeping lash. "But we've made up our mind. If you don't want to become a warrior, that's fine Thornpaw. But I can't wait any longer, and I'm not going to wait any longer. Brightpaw, let's go."
Without another word, he slid into the shadows, allowing the dark forest to swallow him in a single gulp. Brightpaw followed him, her pretty eyes gleaming, her long tail fanning out behind her like a gown of ginger silk. The beautiful she-cat glanced back over her shoulder more than once at her brother, who sat hunched over at the camp, his eyes brimming with watery sorrow.
Swiftpaw didn't look back at all.
xxx
Swiftpaw charged through the forest, his long limbs eating the ground in hasty strides. His pads swiftly drew across the earth, leaving a silence in his wake. It was his soundless step that had attributed to his name. But now it was time for the paw to be dropped. He was tired of being an apprentice. He was sick of the usual apprentice duties that followed his low rank - hunting for the elders, cleaning up after the elders, having the leave the camp accompanied by a warrior…He was sick of it! This was the last cattail!
In his determination and untamed ambition, he quickened his pace, not even conscious of the loud racket he made as he crashed through bushes. Brightpaw ran beside him, following him in step, except her strides were more delicate, more soft, as though she were anxious about what lay ahead. She kept turning her head towards him, a deep gleam of reluctance falling like rain her eyes- thick and continuous.
As the two cats continued running, a silence befell the forest. It was an eerie silence, grim and forbidding, that seem to enfold upon the shadows that surrounded them. There was no hissing sigh of wind, no rustle of leaves, no chatter of birdsong. There was only silence, the force that overpowered sound. Only their pawsteps could be heard, which sent shrill echoes to douse the forest.
"Swiftpaw!" Brightpaw cried suddenly.
The young tom skidded to a halt, sending swirls of leave to launch up and fall victim to the air. He spun around to face her, his amber eyes burning with surprise. "What is it?"
"I don't like this! " The young she-cat flattened her ears. She swiveled her head to one side, unable to look upon Swiftpaw, unable to meet his gaze of amber. "Don't you hear the forest?" Her voice dropped to a scared whisper. "Don't you hear the silence? It's never been this quiet. It's never been…" She allowed her voice to be whisked away from her throat, and finally flicked her eyes up at him.
Surprise washed over Swiftpaw's face. He frowned slightly at her, then padded forth and gave her shoulder a comforting lick. His raspy tongue smoothed down a ruffled patch of her ginger fur, and his whiskers twitched as he inhaled her familiar scent of honey and mint. A deep purr rumbled from the depths of her throat. "Brightpaw. Think about it. If we go through with this, we'll be made warriors! This is only a small step for something much greater?"
"How can you be so sure?" Brightpaw's hoarse whisper sounded into his ears.
Swiftpaw was about to respond, but an ominous shudder overtook his body as he sensed a presence lurking in the trees behind him. His left ear orbited to one side, his muscles tensed in caution. Somehow he knew that he and Brightpaw were not alone. A bristling ridge of fur wound down the length of his spine as he swerved his body to face the trees behind him, which were laced with the wispy threads of darkness. Not even the dawn's light could penetrate the shadows that clutched the motionless foliage.
Brightpaw opened her jaws to speak, but the young tom hissed at her. "Quiet." He began to pace forward, drawing towards the shadows. Lips drew back into a snarl, pads were pressed tentatively. He heard Brightpaw softly call his name, but he ignored her. All Swiftpaw could feel was a rising tension, coursing up his throat like a bittersweet remedy. Could it be what had been snatching up the prey right from underneath ThunderClan's claws?
The young tom paced closer. As his forelimb touched down in mid-stride, a reeking smell hit his nostrils, so powerful and foul that he was half-tempted to turn tail and run. He snuffled his nose a bit, trying to draw out the rancid stench that almost stung his eyes. What was that awful smell? However horrible it smelled, there was denying that it was almost familiar to him…In fact, he knew was it was. It was on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for him to grasp it.
As he tried to figure out what the stench belonged to, Swiftpaw was rendered completely unaware that the darkness that clung to the bushes around him began to spread out, moving and winding back and forth. They were ominous shadows, with cruel jaws and gleaming red eyes that burned like an obsidian flame.
Swiftpaw flicked his ears, realizing that the ground had begun to shake beneath the rapid pounding of massive pawsteps. He slowly lifted his amber eyes, fear scolding them. He recognized that scent.
Dogs!
"Swiftpaw!" Brightpaw screamed suddenly, her shrill screech sending rings to penetrate the icy silence of the forest.
The young tom whirled around as huge, behemoth forms of dogs exploded from the undergrowth, like menacing shapes that oblivion itself had created. Their paws shook the earth, causing it to spiral in vibrations that felt as though the world itself was falling apart.
"Pack, pack! Kill, kill! Blood, blood!"
Swiftpaw's heart was yanked hard with sudden shock and adrenalin as all thought evaded him, and all instincts led him to race towards his friend, to protect her. Protect her. Protect her. Protect her. That's all he knew, that was all he understood. He kept his eyes on that ginger and white pelt, that countenance of beauty and terror. But before he reached her, a pair of jaws flashed out of nowhere. He launched forward to reach her side, but before he knew it, he was experienced an agonizing pain as fangs deeply embedding themselves into his flesh.
All that happened next was a haze. There were claws, slavering claws, and blood. Mostly blood. Blood.
"Kill! Kill! Blood!"
Swiftpaw could hear Brightpaw's shrieks meet his ears. He tried to reach her, but she vanished in the massive tangle of the dogs. Soon even her screams were muffled beneath the sharp barks, growls, and stomping pawsteps that shook the forest.
xxx
There the young tom stood. He lay crouched upon the earth, a black and white huddle of bloodstained fur beneath the blood-red gleam of dusk. His amber eyes burned with piercing ferocity as the largest black dog loomed over him, its jaws dripping with blood and drool. A deep gash scored his side, where fur had ripped out and so much blood had spilled. One little scratch, he told himself. Not so bad. Already the grass was awashed in his blood, painted crimson. Crimson.
Swiftpaw knew there was no way out. He knew he was going to die, there was no denying. But he was not going to back down without a fight. If he went, he'd take as many of those mangy beasts as he could. This was all tied into one moment, one heartbeat that meant sudden fate. Right here, right now. He had to act now.
I'm sorry, Brightpaw.
The dog lunged. Swiftpaw released a howling snarl as he sprang forward to meet it, his claws outstretched to release four sets of vicious talons as he prepared himself for the battle of his life. He felt pain as even heavier, thicker claws crushed him and ripped at his fur, but he resisted defeat. He kept fighting with every scrap of energy he could muster. His will was chained strong as he fought for Brightpaw and for ThunderClan.
Suddenly a pain like no other overtook him, along with a flash of crimson. And before he knew it, a cold feeling swept from the tips of his whiskers to his paws, spreading hastily like an icy poison. He was falling…his body forming a fall that seemed as though it would never end. It was as though he were being carried down into endless cold and darkness forever.
The young tom had met his destiny. It was only a shame that it had to be stained in crimson.
He is with us now.