How dare you judge me, based on what I did, not only for him, but for my Clan? How dare you.
We were as close as kin, we were kits together in the nursery, with Russetkit and Clawkit and Jaggedkit, we were the beginning of everything, and with his words, that he would some day be leader and we would someday be stronger then any other clan, we began our rule.
As kits we played in the nursery, often upsetting Clawkit and Russetkits' mother, Lizardstripe. She would yell at us and hiss at us, driving us from the nursery, I guess that was why being driven from the Clan felt so natural. But he and I, we were always the last to leave.
First would be Jaggedkit, who slunk out with his tail between his legs, then scarred Clawkit, and the Russetkit, who only left because Clawkit didn't want to leave alone, and then us, who fought back with every insult we had to the vile she-cat, and yet we were still drive away, and forced to play in the center of the camp, where we tussled and play fought.
Foxheart always scolded Brokenkit and I, and Russetkit too, because we played too rough with Stumpykit. But we still fought like that, and wwe kept fighting like that, too rough, even when we were apprentices for battle training.
Through battle training we quickly established our rankings. Jaggedpaw was the weakest despite being larger then me or Brokenpaw. The Clawpaw, who was more stealthy then dangerous, followed by Russetpaw, who was quick and violent. Then it was me, who was just powerful, and Brokenpaw, who was just a mixture of all of us, quick and brave and strong and stealthy.
I could have beaten him if I had wanted to, but there was always this glittering in his eyes, this certain, unique twist of his broken tail that made his paws go weak as he jumped in to finish off the fight. He would drop from his battle pose and freeze, unable to move as the dark tom leapt in and finished off the fight, bowling him over and proving his dominance.
And when we were warriors, we found Boulder half-dead on the side of the Thunderpath where he had been running. And, once we witnessed him fighting off Clawface, who had attacked him, we convinced him to join the Clan. He was older and more skilled then Clawface, but slower and not as violent as Russetfur. We became the elite warriors of the Clan, strong and fearless, we commanded the entire camp whether they knew it or not.
But still, whenever I looked at Brokentail, whenever I just happened to glance by him, I felt something stir in my gut, something I just knew that he would never return.
He became deputy and then leader, and I became his deputy, just like when we were kits. Our little group outweighed all of the other clans. We were proud, far prouder then LeopardClan. Russetfur and Boulder were faster then any WindClan cat. Jaggedtooth and Clawface could knock over Lionheart or Tigerclaw in a single swipe. We were an invincible Clan.
And then things started getting out of hand. Greed and lust for power enveloped Brokenstars' mind, and he drove the elders from the camp, stole kit from other Clans, even from ThunderClan. I remember when Clawface had returned from his mission carrying those tiny kits in his jaws, followed by Russetfur, who had accompanied him. We hid the kits and guarded them well, and then waited for ThunderClan to arrive.
We didn't expect the elders to turn on us, or for Yellowfang to return and strike back from being driven from the Clan. Then the others came, and I took on Mousefur, while Boulder, Clawface, Jaggedtooth, and Russetfur took on the others.
But just as I was about to finish off that mangy she-cat, I heard a yowl that made my claws retract and forced me to let her go. Brokenstar, wiggling free from Yellowfangs' grasp, snarling and spitting and admitting to killing his father. We were being driven out, and we began to back up together, bristling. I felt Russetfur at my side, her brother snarling at Brightflower, and heard her whisper to me.
"For the good of the Clan," she hissed, and I nodded. I motioned to Brokenstar, and led the others away from the camp and out of the territory, he followed us after swearing revenge.
We traveled together for long moons after that, sleeping by Thunderpaths, pelts pressed close together for warmth, the same jolting feeling rocking my gut when I saw him flash his claws in the morning light. He never knew how much I loved him, and that the only way I could was through serving him with every loyal bit of blood in my body.
But then he was captured when we attacked the camp, that dirty Yellowfang had blinded him, and we were forced to leave. I tried many times to coax my fellow rogues to save him, but they turned their backs. I was furious, and considered a number of times going there and killing Yellowfang to save him, but never went through with it.
And then Tigerclaw found us, convincing us to attack. I saw this as my chance to save him, and quickly agreed.
The plan failed though, and Brokentail was killed. Whenever I hear his name now, even as the leader of ShadowClan, I feel the same bittersweet twinge in my gut, and wish for him to guide me. I still walk along the path of StarClan, but once I die, I will go to the Place of No Stars, and I wil hunt with him forever.