Disclaimer: Warriors isn't mine.
Chapter 2
Falcon's paws bent the fresh green-leaf grass as he walked away from the camp, moving slowly for the memories that played through his mind. The sound of that horrible crack echoing through the trees, the brief silence that descended, the rumbling of water as it poured over, the desperate run back, slow, too slow. Falcon stumbled as his stomach rolled with guilt, and the present caught up with him.
He regained his balance, slowly raising his head to look around the trees. Was it here he'd met Rook?
The tom had rough skills, like a new apprentice who'd spent his kithood imitating the apprentices and not realizing he'd done it wrong. His black pelt made up for it slightly, since he was hunting at dusk, but it hadn't been enough. Falcon remembered the look on Rook's face when he'd lunged out to snag the startling Rook had scared into flight. His whiskers twitched, the tom hadn't even known Falcon was there.
Rook's fighting skills had been better than his hunting skills, and Falcon hadn't practiced his in awhile, so his muscles weren't as powerful as his days in the Clan. Still Rook had been overpowered by the experienced tom.
"If you can't hunt and intend to steal prey from other cats you might want to practice your fighting. Your moves are all over the place and I could see every attack you were planning." He commented, as he released the other rogue.
The black tom's green eyes were dark. "What do you think I'm doing out here?"
Falcon bit back a sarcastic, 'clearly not hunting' and replied, "I'm not sure."
"It's not like I've got anyone to teach me." The black tom muttered. "So long as Buzzard has an heir it doesn't matter how well I can fight."
Falcon gave him a strange look, and narrowed his eyes. "When's the last time you had a good meal?" he could make out the tom's ribs.
"Snow-fall just ended so… probably four moons ago." The black tom shrugged. "How are you so well fed?"
"I can hunt." Falcon answered examining the underfed tom. "Come on, I'll show you a trick or two."
Turned out he'd ended up teaching him the basic hunting crouch. Falcon slid into it, catching the scent of shrew. As he lowered his front right paw he remembered how Rook had thrown all his weight into the step.
Falcon leapt into the air, but the shrew darted forward, and disappeared into a tunnel.
"Mouse-dung." He cursed, shaking his head. He'd lost it the same way he'd lost the squirrel he'd been hunting the next day.
Falcon struggled to focus on the squirrel in front of him, the nightmares from the night before were clouding his mind, demanding his attention. He lowered himself further, slowly moving forward.
A loud crack of a stick made the squirrel's head rise and it bounded forward.
"Fox-dung!" Falcon swore, sprinting after it. The squirrel leapt onto a tree, scrambling up the rough bark, into its thick, twisting branches. It chattered at Falcon, tail flicking behind it.
Falcon's claws slid over the wood, and he turned. "Who's there?"
The black tom from the night before slunk out, looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry."
Falcon huffed. "Well I didn't catch that one so I can't give it to you."
The black tom glanced down. "That's not why we're here."
"We're?" Falcon repeated, as a gray tabby she-cat stepped out.
"I'm Rook, this is Feather." Rook gave him a pleading look, his green eyes were desperate. "Can you teach us to hunt and fight?"
Falcon looked down the tunnel after the shrew. He stood up, shaking his head. "I need to get my head on right. Rook could've caught that."
Of course he'd improved in the past moon and a half, but the point remained. Falcon chuckled to himself at the joke, and turned away. His brief good mood faded as he turned though, he still had to face Ciara.
He continued on his way, and considered how he was going to tell her. To be caught in a lie now… she'd never join the Clan after finding out he'd lied about his past. He'd lied about his name for the love of StarClan! To tell her the story, how would she… he shook his head. She'd reject him flat out.
"Falcon." A soft voice called, and he looked up. A beautiful black she-cat with yellow-green eyes approached him. He hesitantly purred as she rubbed against him.
"Falcon?" she repeated, and he blinked and struggled to find the words. The secret pain inside him, held back like the floodwaters that had washed away his Clan pressed against his own dam. The words became caught in his tightening throat and he made a faint mew instead.
Ciara gave him a sad look. "I know."
"You do?" his words came out strained, easing a slight amount of tension in his throat. "Ciara I-"
"I don't know everything." She meowed softly. "I just know that for the past two moons you've been withdrawn and something was hurting you."
Falcon nodded, waiting for her to finish. She leaned against him. "You wouldn't tell me what, so I waited for you to or for you to move on." She looked him in the eye. "You can't, can you?"
"I doubt it." He confessed softly, hating the weakness he'd just admitted.
She rubbed against him. "So you're leaving."
"Pretty much." Falcon agreed, giving her a sad look. "How did you-?"
"She-cat intuition." She replied, before licking his cheek. "Plus I know you."
Better than I thought. "I'm sorry." The silver tabby whispered.
"I know you are." Ciara rested her muzzle on his shoulder. "If you change your mind, I'll be around. But you would have to do it soon." She gave him a playful glance and he understood.
"A lot of toms around here." He mused, with a small shrug. "If I change my mind I'll find you."
Ciara rubbed against him. "I know you would." She backed up. "Good-bye Falcon."
Falcon gave her a confused look and she shook her head.
"Would you really want to spend a night together knowing it was our last?" she asked him gently. "I'd prefer we didn't."
Falcon let out a breath, yes, the good-bye would be less drawn out. "Me too. Good-bye Ciara." I did love you.
He watched her disappear into the night, standing alone in the clearing for a long moment. He glanced at the den they'd shared and went the other way. Like spending the night with Ciara, sleeping in that den would just make this all the more painful.
~
The water churned in front of him, white foam on waves bigger than he'd ever seen. It was the creek but larger, flooded almost beyond recognition.
"Falconheart!" the silver tabby whirled at the familiar voice. A black cat, amber eyes wide with shock, clung to a rock. "Falconheart!"
"Pantherstar!" he yowled, plunging into the water. A wave crashed over him, shoving him under. He shoved upwards, head breaking the surface, paws churning. His paws struck something, and he hauled himself onto the rock.
Pantherstar looked up at him, but the shock in his eyes had been replaced by betrayal and disgust. "I trusted you." As he spoke a wave smashed into them, water flowing into Falconheart's eyes. When he blinked them clear Pantherstar was gone.
"No!" he yowled. "I didn't mean to betray you! I swear!"
Something made him look to the far shore, to see Ciara standing there. Her yellow-green eyes held the same disgust as Pantherstar.
"You lied to me. How did you expect me to love a tom that couldn't be loyal to his own brother?"
Falcon stared at her, as the waves clawed at his pelt, her horrible words as clear and piercing as an icicle over the roar of the water around him.
A small black-and-white tom gave him a disgusted look, Badgerpaw stood before him the same as he died. His fur limp and soaked, somehow looking smaller in death than he ever had in life.
Falconheart swallowed; as yet another familiar pelt appeared. Beechwhisker, his light brown fur clumped in places, leaves tangled in it, stared flatly at him.
"No." Falcon rasped, the horror of finding his former apprentice's body becoming fresh once more. "No!" he turned his head away.
"I didn't know! I didn't mean for this!" he couldn't look the tom in the eye, the tom who'd once said he wanted to be just like Falconheart. "It should've been me!"
As he spoke the waves claimed their prize, pulling him from the rock, and down into their cold, black depths.
Falcon jerked awake with a cry, fur prickling with cold. His sides heaved causing him to pant softly, the terror slowly fading as his breathing slowed. He carefully rolled over, dirt clinging to his silver pelt. Deep claw marks gashed the earth, leaves and mulch churned from his thrashing while in the grips of the nightmarish river.
His stomach clenched and he buried his muzzle under his paws to let out a wordless wail.
As before it had only been a dream. Falcon wanted to throw his head back and howl out his pain to the stars, but restrained himself from doing so.
"It's not like I don't deserve it." He whispered. "I deserve every moment of that." Every word they'd said was true, every look earned, every death his fault.
"If I rebuild CreekClan would you forgive me?" he asked softly, eyes turned up, out of the den he'd made under a bramble bush. As always the stars hung silent in the sky, and he lowered his head.
"I promise I'll make it up to you. All of you." The one time deputy vowed. "Starting tomorrow. Please, if you can't forgive me, can you just try to understand?" his voice broke, the grief as powerful as any wave. When had he had to beg for his brother to understand him?
XXX
A.N.: Thank you to all those that reviewed, alerted and favorited this story! So now we find out why Falcon feels guilty, hmm?