Falling, Failing

The brown tom was twitching in his sleep. His eyes were shut tight, as if experiencing agonizing pain. The sight of a gruesome battlefield filled his mind. The stench of death reeked. As suddenly as it had started, the vision stopped. Now all he could see was yellow. All he could feel was warmth. Then he felt claws tearing him apart. Then his eyes shot open. He breathed heavily, a voice still echoing through his mind.

Hope will rise with the shining sun.

An agonizing scream pierced the still night air. It came from the nursery.

Onepaw

Do you ever just feel alone? Like cats are all around you, and you could talk with anyone of them, but you still feel lonely? Their empty words don't mean anything, do they? No, they don't. They're exactly what they are, empty. Words thrown out in a lazy attempt to bring you solace. Their words don't mean anything. They themselves don't mean anything. They are just distractions, Starclan's way of making you feel wanted when in reality no one would care if you were gone. No one would care if you died.

That's how I feel. I'm just another cat to most of them. Not Onepaw, just another cat that they could all live without. I'm not special. My pelt is a boring brown. No stripes, no markings, just a solid block of colour. And my eyes? A dull green. I know what you're thinking. I'm a drama queen. Cats are born with colours like these all the time. What gives me the right to be so upset? I'll tell you.

Brightpaw.

You wouldn't be able to tell that we were related, let alone sisters. She's regarded as gold within the clan. Her pelt a shimmering yellow, her eyes crystal blue, she's just perfect. She's always happy, a cheerful smile plastered onto her face. It's not fake either. You'll read stories where they're just putting on a show, where in reality they are the absolute scum of the earth. Not Brightpaw. She truly was the kindest she-cat you could ever meet.

So why am I upset? If Brightpaw never truly did anything to hurt me, why would I be mad at her? Why should I be jealous? Everyone focuses on her. It's never "Wow! Look at that, Onepaw made her first catch!" No, instead it's "Don't worry Brightpaw, you'll catch something huge one day." When ever we're both in the same area, all eyes are on Brightpaw, never on me. It's not her fault, not even remotely, but I can't help it. Even our ancestors chose her over me.

Hmm? You want to know what I mean, don't you? Ha. You no longer care about me anymore, do you? You just want to know why she's so special. Can't say I'm surprised. Ah well, what's the point in keeping it from you? The night we were born the medicine cat, Pouncefeather, received a prophecy.

Hope will rise with the shinning sun.

He didn't understand what it meant until we were born. I came first, just another mewling ball of fur. But when she came? It was dark. They couldn't see at first. Her pelt looked just as dull as mine in the darkness. But then morning came. Her golden pelt shone like the sun itself. Obviously, she was the hope, the light in the darkness. She was special. So what was I? Simple. I was nothing, a mistake on Starclan's part that they could just push aside and pretend that Brightpaw was the only one that mattered.

And to be honest, she was. Eventually she was going to save the clans, and what was I going to do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Brightpaw

Everything hurt. It felt as though flames were weaving through my pelt, setting everything ablaze. Pain sliced through my skin, burning through my flesh. I wanted to die. It would be quicker that way. In the corner of my mind I could hear cats surrounding me. Strong jaws wrapped around my scruff, lifting me off the dusty ground where I lay just seconds before. Then they began to run.

Every breath sent spasms of agony through my body. I was lying down once more, soft moss pressed around my shuddering form. White bubbling froth foamed from my gaping jaws, falling into pools on the floor. My once crystal clear blue eyes were glazed over in pain and I could barely even keep them open. My ears twitched as they picked up someone speaking, but I couldn't understand what they meant.

"Pouncefeather! What are you going to do?"

"..."

"You can help her, right?"

"..."

"Pouncefeather?"

"I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever poison got into her system, I can't get it out."

"But you have too! You have to save her! You have to save my daughter!"

"..."

"Pouncefeather?"

"I'm sorry."

I can hear Mom. She's crying, but I don't know why. I'm not going to die, am I? No. I'm just a bit sick, that's all. Pouncefeather will find some herb and I'll be good as new. Right? Yes, of course. My eyelids begin to slip shut. The pain has subsided into a dull ache, and I'm suddenly much more tired. A little rest will do me some good. Then, when I wake up, I'll be good as new. Everything will go back to normal, and I'll continue the prophecy.

The prophecy!

My eyelids shoot open in realization. No! This couldn't be happening! I can't die now! I have a prophecy to fill! Starclan wouldn't let me die before fulfilling their wishes, would they? No, of course not! Unless... no

Fighting against the darkness that threatens to envelop me, I struggle to my paws. I gasp for air, fighting against the pain and death itself, struggling to get out of the den.

"Brightpaw?"

Pouncefeather's voice is surprised. I pay him no heed. There's one last thing I need to do, and he'll just get in my way.

"Brightpaw!'

And suddenly, I've collapsed, gasping for air. The darkness that once lay at the corners of my vision has flooded towards the center, beckoning me towards it. Every breath makes me feel weaker, and with every breath the darkness is more and more convincing. No! I can't give up just yet!

"One *hic* paw!"

I manage to splutter out, coughing as soon as the words leave my throat. Pouncefeather seems to understand, and within moments my sister is standing by by my side.

"Brightpaw?"

I can hear my name, but it means nothing to me. Only one thing matters right now. Every word I speak brings agonizing pain through my body, but I need to tell her

"It's not me Onepaw, it's you. I'm not the shinning sun. You're hope. You're our One hope."

And finally, I allow the darkness to take over.

Onepaw

It's not me Onepaw, it's you.

I'm not the shinning sun.

You're hope.

You're our One hope.

Do you have any idea what this feels like? I was prepared. I was ready to die forgotten, allowing my sister to take all the glory. Now she's gone. And what am I? I'm suddenly the special one.

They are trying, I can tell. Every time I accomplish something a few of them congratulate me. I can tell it's as awkward for them to give these words of encouragement as it's as awkward to finally receive them. I'm not used to this. Not used to this at all.

Pouncefeather talks to me more as well. I'm the prophecy, and I must fulfill my duties as such. There's just one problem. I have no clue what they are, and neither does Pouncefeather. I'm supposed to save the clans, but I don't know from what. I'm supposed to save the clans, but I don't know how.

Oh Brightpaw, how I envy you. You're dead now, and what have you left me with? Your legacy to deal with and a prophecy that I have no idea how to fulfill.

I envy you Brightpaw.

Heh.

Just like old times.