A/N: Hey, guys, Tempest here. I am really, really, REALLY sorry for abandoning this fic. Usually, this is the time hen I start spouting excuses. I'm not going to do that this time. There is NO excuse for waiting-what, more than six months to update. But if you're all willing to forgive me, I'd like to give this another try. This chapter is short, very short, and I'm sorry for that, but I will update again. Also, I plan to re-write and re-format the previous chapters, but this will take some time. Like I said, I'm sorry.
"Spottedleaf…it hurts…" I complained, padding a few fox-lengths behind the medicine cat. I dragged my paws in the dirt, groaning with every step.
"Deal with it." the she-cat shot back. Well shoot me in the head, if that wasn't waaaaay outta character, then nothing is. I'd expect that kind of anger to come from Yellowfang. Spottedleaf sensed something, I knew it. Something was bothering her, and it had to do with me.
"Not very sympathetic, are we?" I muttered. Spottedleaf didn't answer. She was afraid of something, that much I knew. We walked in silence the rest of the way. Thoughts cluttered the floors of my brain, and I tried to sort them out with little success. By the time we had arrived, the world blurred and spun around me. I shut my eyes, digging my claws into the earth. The last thing I saw was Spottedleaf's concerned face.
I awoke with a start, struggling to stand. Brambles clawed at my face and grass stung my-
Wait.
Magnificent golden fur sprouted in large clumps from the limbs that spread out in front of me. I stared down at two large forepaws, claws flexing feebly on each. I opened my mouth, but all I produced was a forlorn mewl. My thoughts were jumbled and unorganized, my kit-sized brain too tiny to contain them all. My head was pounding, and I thought it would burst. I tried to stand, but to no avail.
"E-E-E…Edward!" I finally managed, but my voice echoed once through the empty forest, too weak to startle even the frailest of birds, then died out. I lay there from sunrise to sunset, slowly dying. Pain blossomed, first in my chest, then my shoulder, spreading to my stomach, and soon after, to the rest of my body. The fact that I hadn't felt pain in three years only magnified the intense pain to an unbearable level. I tried to cry out, but my jaws were sore from yelling earlier, and my tongue refused to even attempt to articulate the syllables I desperately needed. It was around moonhigh, the time I now refer to as midnight once more, that my delicate ears, which were constantly picking up more noise than I could handle, detected pawsteps in the dry, dead brush. A sweet sent engulfed me, and my body was suddenly dangling a tail-length from the ground. I let out a terrified yowl, but it must have come out as a barely audible squeak.
"Shhh…" a voice as gentle as a spring breeze comforted through a mouthful of my own golden-brown fur. "It's alright, kit. Calm down." Had I had the strength, I would have squirmed out of the cat's grasp and bolted. But I didn't.
I passed out.
"Metalwing!" a voice hissed.
I blinked awake, stretching each leg in turn before turning to see the cat who called himself Featherwhisker sitting by an herb-scented pool. The tom smelled of herbs, per the norm, his usually relaxed, expressionless face replaced with an irritated glare.
"About time!" he huffed, relaxing once more. Featherwhisker ran his whispy tail over the ground next to him, becoming me forward. When I looked into the pool, I wished I hadn't. Lying in the image where our own faces should have been reflected in the pool was me. I was twitching and gasping in my sleep, Spottedleaf leaning over me and pressing wet moss onto my forehead. I was vaguely aware of the cool, wet substance touching my fur and breaking through into my dreams, but I hardly noticed. What lay on the other side of the den in the pool turned my blood to ice.
Lying in a mossy nest was a small fluffy tomcat. He had the same golden, wiry fur as me, though it was slightly darker and had no tabby stripes. He was trembling, clearly in pain and only half alive. He opened his eyes, and that's when I knew.
"DAMN YOU!" I screeched, throwing myself at the StarClan medicine cat. "You turned my brother into a cat! What else, you gonna turn Winry into a cat? How about Pinako? Mustang? Hawkeye, Armstrong, Huges? Answer me, you-you…Oversized flea-bitten son of a fox-hearted goddamn mouse-brained rogue!"
That was the best insult I could come up with. I knew fully Clan-born cats hated being called rogues, though, so I figured he'd be annoyed.
Now I'll never know if he was.
Blood gushed from the tom's flesh as it ripped under my claws. He coughed scarlet fluid, releasing a strangled cry. His left ear had been shredded by my rage, and the skin on his right shoulder, which lay under my powerful metal paw, had been horribly mutilated. A long gash ran from his throat to the middle of his belly, his entire body so twisted and broken and covered in bloody, fleshy wounds that I couldn't recognize it. Featherwhisker coughed again, trembling, as he lay, defeated, in a grisly puddle of blood and bile. I backed away, horrified, as his golden eyes glazed over, and his body began to fade. The last thing I heard on the breeze was a name, barely audible over my own gasping breaths.
Elric.