Prologue

The Warrior Code states that a cat must defend their Clan, even at the cost of their own life. By default that law includes the lives of the cats of the Clan. Indeed, in meaning that we as warriors are nothing more than tools used as means of furthering and ensuring the development and survival of others.

This is what I was taught to believe as an apprentice: To live your life by such an ideal and do what is necessary to protect and serve those around you as a weapon, as a tool to be used until no longer functional. That is the warriors' way, the path of walking alone.

I committed devious acts under that belief, slayed countless others because of it. I would serve he who was most precious to me without question. He made me needed, necessary. For the first time I had a reason to live, a meaning for life.

I would become a branch and help him climb the tree of hierarchy until he achieved his dream of being leader, for he understood the way. He knew what must be done to serve the Clan, to ensure that it flourished through the times and transcended StarClan itself in greatness.

I was his tool, his weapon of revolution. I would make his dream become a reality. I would prove myself as a useful and worthy object to ensure his conquest. I was the perfect tool, unwavering and faithful to his cause. But then something went wrong. Suddenly, and without question, I shattered. I stopped being operational. I failed.

I became broken.

The Clan lay in ruins - a smoldering black mass of destruction and smog reeking rightfully of charred wood and burning flesh. Smoke billowed from the roasting rubble in a suffocating cloud of death while raining down on the earth a rancid haze of black and foul smelling ash.

The fire's chaotic rampage of carnage stretch on for several mile lengths, the once lush and beautiful green canopy of the forest tarnished and obscured by the blackened remains of what had once been brimming life.

Pain.

Searing and unrelenting agony flared against his scorched right side. The acrid scent of burning wood stung Redoak's eyes and throat, the smell of his seared flesh sending a wave of nausea over him. It was some kind of miracle. Somehow or someway he had managed to survive the fiery wreckage of his now destroyed Clan. And the very thought of it burned more than the bubbling flesh on his side ever could.

Failure.

He'd failed. The knowledge of it all brought Redoak's world crashing down faster than the fire had done to the Clan and surrounding wilderness. Oakclaw, the Clan, what was left to serve?

Redoak attempted to move, the black ashes of what was left of his Clan crunching beneath his paws as he struggled to rise. He let out an agonized yowl as his burnt side suddenly flared up and collapsed back down, endless amounts of pain wafting off of him in waves. He lay there unable to even find the will to stand, simply staring up into the blackened, smoke filled sky above, ruefully despising over his wretched conception and lowly existence.

The sudden crunch of paws on ash perked Redoak's senses as he glanced down to make out the shadow of some figure slowly traversing the burnt rubble toward him. No one in their right mind would ever come back to save him. So that only left one other option then.

"Here to finally kill me, Hollyfrost?" he called out.

"So you actually survived?" the shadow called back surprised before stepping in clear sight to reveal herself as a tortoiseshell she-cat. "It looks like I'll actually get my chance then."

Redoak stared at the she-cat's hate filled gaze, the burning rage surging behind them enough to tell him she indeed was here to kill him. Redoak turned his attention back to the pitch black sky, allowing the memory of his failure to reign over his thoughts. So be it then; he had no further use anyway.

"Aren't you even going to stand and fight?" Hollyfrost demanded, infuriated that Redoak barely seemed to be registering her presence. "What's the matter, Redoak? Don't tell me that burn on your side is keeping you from facing me?"

His seemingly unwillingness to stand and ignorance of her rant had Hollyfrost seething with rage. How dare he act as though he was too mighty to face her? Didn't he even care that she was here to kill him?

"Get up and fight!" Hollyfrost roared, her patience with the ginger tom having run out. "You're not going to steal this moment away from me, Redoak! I swore you'd die by my claws and I meant it!"

Redoak shook his head warily, not even making an attempt to stand. "By all means, Hollyfrost, do as you please. I have nothing left, nothing at all to fight for. You'd be doing me a favor."

Hollyfrost angrily swiped her paw against the blackened ground. "Then fight for your own life, you worthless piece of crowfood! Fight me for the right to continue living!"

"My life isn't worth anything; it never was. The only cat who ever gave me a reason to live is now buried somewhere beneath these ashes. I no longer have anyone to be useful for which makes me useless. I am broken."

And he meant it. Why continue fighting when there was no longer anyone left to fight for? There was simply point in it all. His life had been one big travesty before he even had the privilege of being born. Way back many moons ago before any of this had even occurred.