"Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,"

JAY

He was in a foul mood.

The Gathering was no different than any other. Words were said, threats were made, and the semblance of a "truce" they pretended to uphold crumbled before their very eyes. The sky opened up and sheets of icy rain drove the quarreling cats from the Island, paws scrabbling on the slippery trunk as they fled. The WindClan warriors led the stride, escaping the hostile gazes of their enemies by way of their swift feet.

Days had passed and the rain had still not let up. It seemed as though all of WindClan were seeking refuge in their dens, not daring to step out into the storm unless deemed absolutely necessary. Those that were normally the first to volunteer for patrols now slouched in their beds, pretending to be asleep, desperate not to be called upon.

"Jaytalon."

He glanced up to see the wiry figure of his deputy slinking through the rain toward him.

"I need you to lead a hunting patrol," she said, ducking into the warriors' den. Direct as always.

Jaytalon peered outside then looked back at her skeptically.

She raised her eyes at him. "Problem?"

"It's a little wet out there."

She shrugged at him. "Fine. Then you should be more than willing to sacrifice your next two meals to better ration what's left of the fresh-kill pile."

Jaytalon rolled his eyes and reluctantly rose to his paws. "For crying out loud." Flattening his ears against his head, he stepped out into the rain. Immediately, icy sheets penetrated his coat, plastering his fur to his skin.

His deputy smirked at him good-naturedly. "Who will you bring?"

Jaytalon scanned the den; his Clanmates actively avoided eye contact or rolled over away from them. "Greenstorm, Gorsefire, and..." he called as they moaned in protest. He then turned back to his deputy. "Deerspring, will you join us?"

The long-limbed WindClan deputy nodded. The two tomcats grudgingly padded out of the warmth of the warriors' den and trudged next to them. "Mind if I bring Thistlepaw? He could use the practice," Gorsefire asked.

Jaytalon flicked his ear against a particularly large raindrop. "Yes, but hurry. I want to get this over with."

By the time the long-haired apprentice joined the group, Jaytalon and the other warriors were completely soaked to the bone. The lanky gray tabby shook out his fur, but to no avail. He led the patrol out of the camp and deep into the moorlands. It was a challenge to see when their vision was so impaired, but Jaytalon's heart ached with desire. He missed the days when the sky was clear and the earth beneath his paws was dry and firm. His skin crawled impatiently; the dark-striped warrior was not one to sit around all day. He was an active warrior, one who favored his solitary hunts.

Jaytalon had not been a warrior for long. Less than two moons ago he stood beneath the Highcliff, basking in the glory of his warrior name echoing in the gulch as his leader declared his rank to StarClan. A deep satisfaction stirred within him that day. The tomcat could be cynical at times, but his fierce loyalty to the Clan never wavered. It was the one thing he treasured most in his life. The thing he deemed most important.

Greenstorm stepped close to his ear, startling him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing out here. All the prey will be cooped up in their burrows in this weather," the white tom shouted over the thundering of the rain against the moorlands. "Our best bet would be the woods."

Jaytalon studied the senior warrior's face, thoughtfully. "By the border?"

"I agree," Gorsefire chimed in loudly. "I can't smell a thing out here."

"There's too much mud!" Thistlepaw yowled in frustration, his long fur plastered to his skin. The young apprentice shivered with the cold.

"The shelter will be much appreciated," Deerspring added. "Newleaf is not yet upon us. The last thing we need is to bring back a whitecough outbreak."

Jaytalon nodded and gestured for the patrol to follow. Their paws slogged through the thick mud, eyes narrowed against the barrage of raindrops. The group finally made it the thin strip of forest that their territory allowed, their paws skidding. They could hear the roaring of the river nearby.

"I can't scent RiverClan at all," Thistlepaw grumbled.

"The rain is too dense," Gorsefire reassured him.

"That or they can't be bothered," Deerspring pointed out. "If we didn't need fresh-kill so desperately, I would rather everyone stayed warm and dry in their dens."

But Jaytalon's gaze was fixated on the other side of the river. "Don't hold your breath," he growled in a low voice.

Just beyond the Horseplace, where its hooved residents slouched watching them through long eyes, two figures lumbered full-speed toward them. They were muscular and well-defined, but lean. They appeared unbothered by the excessive moisture. The WindClan patrol waited for them to notice the border and slow to a halt, but their pace never tapered. Suddenly, a rabbit sped past Jaytalon. He blinked in shock, then turned around with a yowl, but Greenstorm had already closed the distance in a heartbeat, snagging the gangly body and ending its life with a quick nip to its throat. Thistlepaw let out a cry of triumph.

"Hey!"

The group whipped around. Two young RiverClan warriors, likely apprentices, stood panting before them, the rain repelling off of their slick fur like duck feathers. They regained their breath almost immediately; like WindClan cats, they withheld miraculous levels of stamina.

"Thank you for stepping in and helping us out, but we'd appreciate if you could hand over our fresh-kill now," Stormpaw said in a faux-sweet voice.

"I believe you are on our side of the border," Deerspring said calmly. "Any prey killed on our land belongs to WindClan."

Stormpaw's ears flattened against his head. "But we've been hunting that rabbit all afternoon!"

"Tough luck, fish-face." Thistlepaw spat, his tail lashing.

Gorsefire shot him a warning glance.

"WindClan delivered the killing blow," Gorsefire pointed out. "Therefore, the fresh-kill is ours to take."

"But we did all of the work!" Amberpaw cried in dismay.

"May I emphasize," Deerspring growled. "You are on WindClan territory now."

"Trespassers!" Thistlepaw hissed.

Deerspring peered curiously at Jaytalon. His expression was difficult to read, but his muscles were taut, eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't detect. She scowled at him, then returned her attention to the two apprentices.

"We're not leaving without our kill!" Amberpaw cried obstinately.

"It's WindClan's kill," Thistlepaw growled.

"We hunted it!" Stormpaw spat.

"I suggest you leave our territory at once," Deerspring stated with finality.

Stormpaw muttered darkly under his breath, turning and stalking back toward RiverClan territory. Amberpaw cast a fleeting dismayed glance back at the patrol before following her Clanmate in pursuit.

Thunder rumbled menacingly above them. No cat spoke a word the entire way back to camp. Jaytalon focused his gaze ahead of him, his foul mood intensifying. Despite the freezing rain, heat burned fiercely beneath his skin. He could barely swallow, his heart pulsated in his throat. Upon their return back to camp, Jaytalon made a move toward the warriors' den when Deerspring halted him with a sharp flick of her tail.

"May I have a word?"

Jaytalon scowled, but followed her to the hickory tree that overlooked their camp. It did little in the way of sheltering them from the rain, but was secluded enough to speak.

Deerspring folded her long legs beneath her, tucking her tail neatly around her paws. "You disappeared on me, Jay."

Jaytalon snorted disdainfully.

"I understand," Deerspring said quietly. "You have deeply entrenched bias against RiverClan."

"Don't patronize me, please..."

"I'm not patronizing you," she said sharply. "I'm concerned about you."

"Don't be," Jaytalon growled.

Deerspring sighed in frustration. "We've all lost loved ones in this war," she murmured. "But learn to manage your emotions. Translate them to something productive, not incendiary. It's not healthy to let things fester like you do."

"Oh I let things fester? Because you're the most expressive cat I've ever met."

"Enough," Deerspring said sharply. "You know what I'm talking about. We needed you to weigh in and defend your Clanmates, but you were completely checked out." She sighed. "All I'm saying is – just know when to keep your emotions in check. Don't let them blind your logic."

And with a final lash of her tail, Jaytalon watched his former mentor trek back down into the camp. He scowled at the desolate camp. He deeply respected Deerspring; she was a tough warrior. Fierce, austere, yet altruistic. She was the most selfless cat Jaytalon had ever known – almost to an extreme degree. She would make a fine leader one day, but she would never fully understand the extent of his personal resentment against RiverClan.

"Sounds like somebody's in hot water."

Jaytalon flinched,; a familiar white-and-silver tabby padded toward him, her light lemon eyes bright with amusement.

"Mouse-dung, Whitepaw…"

"So what'd you do?" she teased, her tail flicking.

Jaytalon shook his head. "Just Deerspring being overbearing as per usual."

"You don't mean that," she said warmly, sitting down beside him. The small she-cat looked dwarfed next to Jaytalon's long, lanky body. "Deerspring loves you."

"I'm not her kit." he mumbled resentfully.

He regretted it the instant he said it. It was an unspoken, yet well-known fact that Deerspring had never been able to bear kits. There were several speculations as to why, all of them revolving around her intense commitment to serving her Clan. She refused to eat or sleep until every other warrior was fed and safe. She was rather malnourished and sleep-deprived and would volunteer for every patrol or battle team if she could. In this constant state of physical stress, Deerspring was strong-spirited but generally unwell. Rendered incapable of bearing kits, she strived to fill the void by serving her Clan to the best of her ability, perpetuating the issue even more in some ways. Yet she invested heavily in the training of the Clan's young and was highly revered by her Clanmates.

"She knows you better than anyone," Whitepaw murmured. "Probably even better than you know yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should trust her." Whitepaw smiled softly. "Furball."

She flicked him affectionately with her tail, but he recoiled away from her touch. Disheartened, the younger she-cat rose to her paws.

"You can't live a life of solitude in a Clan," she said with a tinge of sadness to her voice. "You're either a loner or a warrior. You can't have it both ways."

"I've devoted everything to serving this Clan," Jaytalon mumbled.

"But the foundation of the Clan is built upon trust," Whitepaw said quietly. "We're hard-wired to support one another. It's in our nature."

Jaytalon scowled at her, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

"It's one thing if people can depend on you, but if you don't let yourself depend on them, you'll never tap into that network of support that keeps us all alive."

Jaytalon watched her leave, regret weighing heavily on his heart. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the dark clouds for a heartbeat. Jaytalon's gaze turned to the storm. He sat, his silhouette stoic against the dark sky, letting the cold sink into his bones. He craved companionship, but lacked the capability to let himself open up.

Suddenly, lightning illuminated the sky, outlining a beast-like shape in the cloud Jaytalon's gaze was fixated on. His fur bristled in alarm at the sight. Is that…?

As if in response, thunder roared like a wild creature of the night, sending shudders down Jaytalon's spine.

"You're wrong..." he muttered under his breath, casting his gaze away.

His heart, plagued by vengeance, gave a sharp pang of regret. But Jaytalon rose to his paws and turned his back on the sky.