Chapter Thirty-Five: Plunged

ONE MOON LATER

Cold sunlight trickled down Lionpaw's skin like the intrepid strings of a spider's web. At first, he didn't want to move- he wanted to stay here, curled up, with his soft tail tucked over his cold nose. But as sleep rolled off of him in waves, his ears became more prone to the delicate noises around him, and eventually, he was more awake than asleep.

Batting away any hopes of getting another wink of sleep, Lionpaw opened his eyes and yawned, his jaw opening so far he heard it crack. The lion shook himself, and glanced around the crowded apprentice den. All around him were the sleeping bodies of his friends- and enemies, in the case of Rowanpaw. The dust-colored lion slept peacefully, curled up next to Frostpaw, his sister. Lionpaw let his eyes linger over her slender form for a moment, drinking in her effortless beauty, before getting up warily and edging his way out of the den.

Out in the sunlight, Lionpaw stretched, feeling pleasure as his muscles pulled and his bones crackled. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the flush of golden light, and looked around the quiet camp. It was peaceful this morning- the the sunlight, like melting ice, dripped over the LightningClan camp, and he shivered, watching his breath come out in little frosty clouds around his muzzle.

There was really nobody awake yet; he saw the elders moving around in their den from across the camp, and heard faint mewls coming from the nursery. He was the only one in the camp. But judging from the pile of fresh-looking prey dumped respectfully in the center of the camp, he wasn't the only one awake. Someone must have just gotten back from a hunt.

"Goodmorning, Lionpaw," came a quiet voice.

Lionpaw turned abruptly, and watched the frame of Blackscar approach him. The lanky lion dipped his head respectfully, and Lionpaw returned the action. "Goodmorning," he murmured, his words curling into the frosty air like smoke.

"Is that your craftsmanship?" Lionpaw asked shrewdly, turning and nodding in the direction of the fresh-kill pile. He felt his stomach rumble, and realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down for a real meal. Things had been too busy around here for luxuries like that.

"It is, indeed," Brightpaw's father returned with a crooked smile, revealing for a brief moment his unruly yellow teeth. Apart from his teeth, though, there was barely any resemblance to the lion Blackscar had been a moon ago. Ever since the battle with Longfang and his bullish followers, when Blackscar had protected Lionpaw from certain death at the big cat's claws, and
Bluefur had in turn saved Blackscar from attack, the loner had changed. Maybe it had to do with the new respect Bluefur had for him, since he had protected her only son. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that the Clan had finally, after moons and moons of bitterness, began to question their hatred towards him. After all, he wasn't a bad lion- he'd just fallen in love with the wrong soul. And love was not a crime.

At least... it shouldn't be.

"Thank you," Lionpaw murmured, pulling himself back from his thoughts and into the present. "The Clan needs the food... it's become pretty cold," he noted reproachfully, glancing at the icy clouds in the sky. He hated the cold.

"Agreed," Blackscar said with a small laugh. He sighed and sat down on his skinny haunches. As he moved, Lionpaw reflected on his his best friend's father changed. Blackscar had always been small and dark, compared to his huge, snowy brother Snowstar. Always in his brother's shadow, Blackscar had been an outcast even before he found love with the WaterClan tigress,
Littlecloud, usually covered in fresh cuts from tripping and scabs from old ones. And he had always looked sickly, with a skinny, meek appearance.

But ever since the Clan had started treating him better, Blackscar had gone from sickly-skinny to tough-skinny, made of lean meat and small muscle. He always kept himself better-groomed, and his attitude wasn't so surly. So as the lion- his own uncle- sat down and began to comment on the weather, Lionpaw couldn't help but smile. After all, this was his own kin, and for the first time, he saw the lion Littlecloud must have fallen for, and the father Brightpaw had always needed.

From behind Lionpaw came a polite noise. He turned, and was startled to see Rowanpaw standing behind him.

"Can I... can I talk to you?" he muttered, staring at the ground.

Why this apprentice who had sworn hatred towards him many times wanted to talk with Lionpaw, was beyond him. He tried to read the expression in Rowanpaw's eyes, but the apprentice's eyes were carefully guarded. He sighed, and nodded.

"Bye, Blackscar," Lionpaw said to Brightpaw's father over his shoulder, and followed Rowanpaw. The surly apprentice said nothing to shed light on this mystifying request, and instead led
Lionpaw towards the camp entrance. Lionpaw stopped walking when he realized that Rowanpaw intended to take him out of camp alone. His instincts were telling him to not follow his enemy out there.

Rowanpaw turned around, and made a face. "I'm not going to hurt you, for StarClan's sake," he grumbled. "I just want to talk privately."

Lionpaw stared at him hard. "Why can't we talk here? The camp is quiet."

In answer, Rowanpaw turned away and loped out of the camp entrance. Lionpaw hesitated only a moment before following his enemy into the bracken and thorns that spat them out on the other side, in the jungle.

Out in the cold jungle, Lionpaw felt exposed and unsafe. But Rowanpaw walked ahead like nothing was wrong, and so Lionpaw grudgingly played along. He thudded quietly after
Rowanpaw, until they'd walked a short ways. Lionpaw had finally caught up to Rowanpaw's heels, when the apprentice gave no warning and spun around. Without missing a beat, he flashed out his claws, and raked them across Lionpaw's muzzle.

Lionpaw cried out, more out of shock than pain, and stumbled back as blood dripped down his mouth. He furiously rumbled, knowing he should have never trusted this snake. Before
Lionpaw could come to grips to attack, Rowanpaw was talking.

"That," he said coolly, "was a warning."

Lionpaw spat out blood; around them, a harsh wind howled at the skeletal trees. From the muddy gray sky came little flakes of fat white stuff. Slow at first, then dancing faster, it fell to the ground. Lionpaw realized it was snow, and would have been excited for his first snow had he not been boiling with resentment.

"For what?"

Rowanpaw watched him silently. For the first time in moons, Lionpaw really looked at Rowanpaw. He had grown a lot, with muscles rippling from his legs and chest. His thick neck had grown a small mane, the color of rusty dirt, and his face was chiseled with hard eyes. Lionpaw knew that the lionesses found him handsome, despite his surly attitude. And maybe, if it weren't for his cold ways, Lionpaw could have been friends with him.

"If you hurt my sister in any way," he spoke, voice flat, "I will hurt you. That's only a taste of what you'll feel if you don't treat her the way she deserves- like... like royalty," he growled.
Lionpaw was taken aback. It was the first time since- well, no, it was really the only time- that Rowanpaw had ever said anything remotely nice about anyone. And Lionpaw had had no idea how much Rowanpaw cared about his sister, Frostpaw. It was kind, in a brother-protecting-sister way. And strangely out of character.

Lionpaw sighed, and tried to knock away the droplets of blood on his muzzle. "I would never dare hurt Frostpaw," he told Rowanpaw sincerely. "I- well, I'm in love with her. And as much as I hate you, that means we're brothers. So I will respect your... warning."

Rowanpaw looked disgusted at the idea that they were anything like brothers, Lionpaw realized he had been wrong. No matter how much he loved Frostpaw, it would never prove anything to Rowanpaw. He'd always hate Lionpaw. He felt a strange pang of regret for this, and sighed.

"What did I ever do to you?" Lionpaw found himself demanding, voice burning with moon-old rivalry. "Why do you hate me, Rowanpaw?"

Rowanpaw's eyes narrowed to slits, torn between shock and annoyance. Lionpaw was amazed at his own daring, but didn't back down. Instead, he faced Rowanpaw with a cold expression, waiting for his answer.

For a long moment, Rowanpaw said nothing, and Lionpaw thought he would ignore the question and walk away. But he stayed. Seeming to struggle with a reply, Rowanpaw dipped his head- speaking to the snow growing under his paws. "I don't hate you, Lionpaw. I- I wish I were you." His words were so soft, Lionpaw thought he'd imagined them.

Taken aback, he searched for the right words to answer such a confession. But Rowanpaw spoke again before he had the chance to talk. "You're the son of one of the greatest leaders the jungle has ever seen. You're popular, and adored, and my sister loves you more than she likes me." The last words were bitter. "You're everything I'm not, and I resent you for that. I always have, and always will."

Lionpaw was quiet. It made sense... now that Rowanpaw had admitted the truth, everything fell into place. He tried to see himself from Rowanpaw's jealous eyes. Lionpaw, the golden sun of Snowstar and Bluefur, always the center of attention and always on an adventure. And in the eyes of Frostpaw, the most amazing lion on the planet. With a jolt, he understood, and felt something he'd never dreamed of feeling for Rowanpaw.

Pity.

He breathed out slowly, trying to think of how he'd feel if things were switched. For example, if Rowanpaw were the glorious son of a leader, and if Cricketpaw adored him more than she cared for Lionpaw. The thought of it hurt like a thorn had been jabbed into his side.

Rowanpaw was silent, probably resenting himself for admitting his deepest secret to the lion he hated. Lionpaw wished he could ease Rowanpaw's self-loathing, and spoke quietly. "I'm sorry... I never understood. But it doesn't have to be this way. We can be brothers... not enemies."

Rowanpaw stared coldly at Lionpaw. "I hate you," he said slowly, each word separate and cutting like claws. The loathing was there, smoldering like ashes in his eyes. Lionpaw flinched, and knew he had only seen so much hatred once before: in Longfang's eyes. With a shock, he realized how dangerous Rowanpaw could become. Was he the next Longfang?

You can't let that happen, faint voices spoke in the wind.

"Rowanpaw, if you hate me... fine. Frankly, I don't like you that much, either. But you cannot let hatred control you." Lionpaw's voice was plain and hard, longing to make Rowanpaw see reason.

Rowanpaw stared at him, eyes slits. "I know where my place is," he snarled, as if Lionpaw had struck a sensitive cord. "I will never be... like that. You don't understand anything, Lionpaw. You think you're such a god, prancing around with the stars on your shoulders, when you don't realize that I understand, too." His claws curled into the ground.
Lionpaw's heart grew heavy with remorse. The walls between them grew ever taller. "Rowanpaw, let me understand. I want to help," he said softly.

They was a pause; Rowanpaw gazed at Lionpaw, and Lionpaw was startled to see a deep emotion rekindling in those eyes. Something Lionpaw had never felt, something he would have never wished upon an enemy. It was as if Rowanpaw was desperately trying to tell him something, but he just couldn't. "No one can help me," he whispered. " A war is coming, and the lines between good and evil will be blurred. But that does not change anything between you and me."

Lionpaw felt a cold shiver go down his spine. Rowanpaw spoke as if he knew these things would happen. "What do you mean, a war? You can't know the future."

Rowanpaw's eyes gleamed. You have no idea.

Right then, a bellowing snarl cut through the snowy air. Lionpaw and Rowanpaw looked up at the same time, and realized it came in the direction of the WaterClan border line. They looked at each-other briefly before running noiselessly through the trees, toward the sound.

The jungle thinned out, and the ground began to slope. Finally, the trees spat the two young lions out, and they came to a stop at the mounds of snow being born under the heavy sheet of icy snow. Overlooking the steep hill, they could plainly see the river that marked the beginning of WaterClan territory, but something was wrong with it- with the deafening silence.

With a shock, Lionpaw realized what was missing: the roar of the water. Because it was frozen.

He had never seen anything so bizarre before. The thick, dark volume of water was still and silent, with hard frost caked over its face. There were little patters and ripples on the icy surface, and Lionpaw shivered. It had to be literally freezing in its watery depths. And despite the frosty surface, he saw water running under it. Maybe it wasn't as frozen as he was to believe.

But his attention was quickly taken from the frozen water, to the animals surrounding it on both sides. He immediately recognized Featherfoot, flanked by a few tigers. And on the other side of the frozen river, stood Brightpaw.

"What's going on?" Rowanpaw snarled under his breath. Up on the snowy ridge, neither of them had been noticed yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"I don't know." Lionpaw watched with narrowed eyes, staring at his friend. What was Brightpaw doing down here? And something was clinging to his forepaw, something small and shivering and striped... His jaw dropped.

"Is that a tiger cub?" Rowanpaw asked incredulously.

What in StarClan's name was going on? Before Lionpaw could make an inch down the hill to find out, Featherfoot did something crazy.

She was spitting with fury, and suddenly wasn't touching the snowy ground. Lionpaw watched through the snow falling thickly, as Featherfoot leapt across the frozen water. Ruthlessly, she grabbed the little mewling tiger cub in her jaws, and not-so-gently threw it across the frozen water. With the cub out of her way, she full-out attacked Brightpaw. Brightpaw screeched and fell back into the powdery snow.

But before her shadowy body could enclose on him, there came a deafening crack that made all of them freeze. Lionpaw, locked in horror, felt his eyes drag towards the icy river, where
Featherfoot had left the small cub. Perhaps she'd thought it safe on the icy surface, away from her and Brightpaw. But whatever she had thought... she was terribly mistaken.

Because before anyone could move, the ice gave another furious crack. The cub was there one moment, teetering on a cracked slate of ice, terrified and mewling for his mother. And

suddenly he disappeared under the freezing black waters.

A/N: Im not totally sure why I write so many cliffhangers. They're just entertaining... and your reactions to them are twice as entertaining. :)

Firstly, I'd like to thank all my recent reviews. Im blown away... we've passed the 300 mark? It's my first story to do so! *Round of applause*

Secondly... I hope you enjoyed getting a peek into Rowanpaw's character. I know he's the "annoying, evil character", but he's much more than you'd think. I love writing his character, with so many shades of good and bad. Be careful not to dismiss him as a nobody... he has a destiny no one can change, and it will hurt more than one Clan.

Thirdly (try saying that ten times in a row), I have decided to make a sequel for this "book". I've officially completed writing and editing this story (it took only a year and a few months to do so...), and I expect to have the final five chapters being published soon. As many of you have commented, Brightpaw should have a bigger role than that of "just the best friend", and I totally agree. That's why the second book will revolve around him as we continue the story of ancient legends. Give me your opinion on this decision.

Fourthly... I have a challenge for you, one I invented out of sheer curiousity. Who's your favorite character, and why is he/she your favorite character? It'll be funny to see the results.

And fifthly... haha there is no fifth note. I just wanted to say that word. Thanks, and take care! I'll be updating sooner than you can say "son of a fish!"