"What's the matter? Fox got your tongue?"

The memorial taunt still rang in the depths of his mind. He could see her grin, her perfect posture, a sinful twitch of her whiskers. Vividly, her stark pelt harmoniously melded with the fading sunlight. Whether she knew it or not, she was beautiful. He just didn't have the guts to say it to her face. Put it bluntly by the essence of elegance herself- he was a worm-faced, gutless coward who needs to stand up for himself. While it was never said aloud, it was certainly implied.

"You cleaned your pelt," was his response to carry the conversation elsewhere. He couldn't fight the smile as a similar expression graced the other's features. Her chest puffed noticeably with pride. A tail swish and a fancy strutting pose. It only took the calmness of the sea to drag them both into a haze of subconscious. The sting nipped at the farthest hairs as they came into contact, a rush of ecstasy rippling to the core.

It was a pleasant feeling. Clearly a sensation that needed to happen again.

Despite the internal need, the action had yet to repeat. Perhaps it never would.

"You mouse-brained lump of fox-dung!"

That's right. He argued with her. She had insulted another party member and for that, severely accused. The rage flourished. He was unable to calm down. He dug his claws into her pelt, furious with the traitorous words she spat- despicably, like a silver tongued serpent.

She was the realist; the pessimist. He was the prevailer; the optimist.

Perhaps they were never meant to be.

"Alpha...?"

A friend. Their friend. Their obstacle.

"Let me go for her!"

They'd been forced in the ring. Well, she had. In the throes of passion, he threw himself on the earth. Determination to save the female he so desperately cared for. He struggled. It wouldn't be long before his vocal cords severed from the screeching. Claws flashed, teeth chomped, blood pooled. Furry paws covered his own eyes, refusing to watch his unsaid beloved die by ways of savage teeth to her throat.

"What are you doing up? It's dawn and you didn't wake me up for my shift."

With his beloved safe and healing, their ragtag team had meshed together with regrettable issues. He had taken all responsibilities upon himself. All the watching he tried by his lonesome, striving to prove his worth as leader of a misfit band of wayward souls. If he couldn't lead a few moody apprentices, how was he supposed to lead a Clan in the future?

"Well look at this. It looks like we got here just in the nick of time."

Now was his chance. His moment of opportunity to take command of the situation. One of his "clanmates" was in danger, leaving it up to the leader to provide the negotiation and oversee the conclusion just like a true public figure would. Some sly words and an offer of a clawed pelt left little wiggle room for the enemy. Their medic had been returned unharmed. He had himself to thank. Everyone was once again under supervision.

"Don't what? Don't leave? Stay here with me? Stuff it! Save it for a she-cat that cares. Save it for Mistpaw!"

Volcanic emotions crashed through the air, too fast to comprehend for analysis. Tempers were flaring, unable to be calmed by mere words. In the vicious ending, the aforementioned beauty had lost her wits end and charged off with the certainty to being solitary in her future endeavors. He was incapable of stopping her. He failed as a leader. He failed as a friend.

"Flarepaw?!"

He had his chance for redemption. She had returned.

Or so he had originally thought.

It was but an illusion of his own desires. Fate wasn't that kind to him. It prefered to see him suffer in agony. His destiny did not, nor ever would, intertwine with hers.

"Fallenpaw- you're our leader- lead us home."

Nonetheless, he had a devastated group of apprentices to return home with. As long as they saw him as their leader, he would have to play the part. He had to step forward and lead them home. They depended on him. He wasn't about to let them down. He wasn't going to lose anyone else.

Not again.


"W-Where's my brother?"

First words spoken since she awoke, sun dried and wrinkling like a raisin in the midday heat. Particles of sand clumped to her pelt- an uncomfortable feeling. She recalled the downpour. The raging torrent that lay waste to the hollow like a scourge. Her pretty blue eyes only sought her beloved sibling. It only took a matter of seconds to decide the cats around her were not whom she yearned for. This pair was reckless and loud, their voices ringing in her ears in perfect imitation of the thunder and lightning the night prior. Surrounded by foreigners was a certain ride of terror.

"Help! Help!"

Her ears were suddenly opened to a new voice. While it wasn't the voice she was hoping, it still retained that sensual familiarity that she found herself satisfied with. She had raced to their aid. Along the short trip, she had discovered the screeching belonged to one of her close clanmates. Delighted to see the tom, but at the same time, she felt the anguish sink in her belly after discovering her clanmate had not seen any sign of her brother.

"And he also could be dead! You ever think of that?"

Reality nipped her in the hindquarters. All of her hopes broke with a resonating shatter from the placement of two sentences. Denial kept these thoughts tucked in the deepest depths of her own mind. Much like most young adolescents, she prefered to keep herself in the sunshine rather than acknowledge the shadows. Maybe she didn't want to think of her brother dead. Perhaps she was looking forward to seeing him again. But even so, overexerted hope is only going to set up for disappointment. Tears had swamped her vision. She refused to accept the horrible truth.

She ran.

"Floodpaw?'

"Mistpaw?"

A reunion. A happy ending. A profound bond.

Scents mingled into one. Just as they were supposed to be. The two halves had conjoined to create the whole.

She was satisfied.


"Episode? She had another one?"

His poor disheveled pelt was first saved by a defensive 'paw with fury in her eyes. The gulls had intent to maim and without his new found friends, it would be safe to assume he wouldn't be walking around so freely. Now caught up with reality and the present time, it was prompted to him that an acquaintance's friend lay under traumatic experiences. Bearing the herbal badge of honor granted the brown coat with certain privileges. He'd become more accustomed than most to connections throughout the Clans. What sort of luck was involved for them to meet under these circumstances?

"What in StarClan's name is wrong with you two?"

The journey arose with problems and bumps in the road. With his fellow OceanClanner sprinting off out of despair and lack of morality, it was up to himself to offer condolences. The tension remained high, even after both pairs had been separated from the situation. A level head on both sides kept each instigator devoid of contact with one another.

Wandering side by side gained the insight into the younger's mind. She still had hope. For that, he was content. A familiar scent led them into the hallowed tunnels of enigma. Noses twitching, tails flicking, flanks heaving. It was only when the cries of terror echoed did the pair move from a cautious walk to a terrorized dart.

It was a chance encounter which resulted in the reuniting of long lost siblings. In which, he was very pleased to participate in. However, he wasn't quite on board with their sudden diversion tactic. It's not very nice to scare your medic, now is it?

"You're one stubborn fool."

Within every group, certain fellows fall into certain categories. Already, the MagmaClan representative had proven herself to take on the role of the damage dealing psycho. Based on the information from the prior event, it was easy to determine her tenacity and insane mind that lead to one of the bloodiest fights she would ever witness. Stains of crimson lay almost hidden within the coarse red fur. Her claws and pawpads were roughened from the stinging earth. A clear shard had embedded itself in one of those aforementioned pads. She really was stubborn fool.

And he was the one who had to patch up her sorry furry behind.

Again.

"Can't a cat make dirt without drawing attention from nosy kits?"

A lie. Albeit a clever misdirection. It was a mere statement to get prying eyes off his back. There was no real reason to bend the truth, in all honesty. Due to patient injury, a solitary quest was required to bring back some necessary herbal supplies. He supposed he didn't want help and supposed that's the reason why he insisted on sending anyone near him away to mind their own business.

"You squid-brained, self absorbed, cowardly, moth-faced, ant-puking, wretched little spawn of a grimy, slimy maggot!"

OK, so maybe he got a little carried away. But what would you do if you figured out some random wanderer came around and squashed your valuables? Let's just keep it to a simple 'he wasn't happy' and move on from the spewage of sewer-like language.

After some choice words with the instigator, the brown coat was quickly discovering how useless the former was. Marigold was clearly used to prevent infections, but this mouse-brain claimed she used them for eating. He was utterly disgusted and revolted at the sheer stupidity. And if it didn't make matters worse, he managed to let a few secrets of his past loose and his opponent quickly used them to her advantage.

His vision faded to nothing but black.

"So now you understand why someone of your occupation is important. You know about medicine, or so I assume what you said earlier. I've self nominated myself as protector of these cats. They're my responsibility and I'm trying my best to keep them alive. Mew, Gray, and Night are the three kittens I've adopted, considering myself as their aunt. They were abandoned by their dead mother whose timely demise came shortly after their birth. Nikki up there suffers from her old age as well as a respiratory disease. She can barely stand up much less breathe properly without collapsing. So you see how big of a role you play in our society. You and only you can help us. Please."

Agh, no - not the heart wrenching sob story. The injured and sick were his weakness. What kind of medicine cat would he be if he ignored the blatantly ill? Agreeing to settle and lend his aid, he nestled with the alleycats to learn exactly from what they suffered and what would be necessary to treat. He started with the defenseless kittens, acknowledging their lack of strength and immune systems due to a considerable food shortage. In his state of self-loathing and determination to save lives, he disclosed the information regarding a certain plant for consumption of his new "friend".

With some careful persuasion, he was able to convince said friend to seek out habitable forest ground somewhere amidst the crumbling walls and twoleg structures. It was there all the pent up emotional torture was released.

"I never want to see your ugly mug around here again, Anemonepaw. You're such a traitor. Not even standing up for the weak and injured. You're sick and vile. I could just vomit here. I hope you're happy knowing that Nikki is sure to die as well as those kits."

Verbally attacked he felt his emotional barriers shatter. Guilt tripping was just another part of life the poor tom was subject to. If it wasn't for the attachment to his true friends and fellow clanmates, he very well could still be there trying to save lives just for the chance to feel successful. He hated the way pressure loomed over his back, crushing his shoulders with the weight that came with his title. His inner healer ordered him to save every life he could. He wasn't in the careful paws of his mentor who wasn't able to tell him 'there are some lives we just can't save'.

But he was saved. Emotionally and physically. He was given the chance to avoid the struggle and take the reins of freedom. He had his clanmates, his partners, his friends. They held him tight and by the fierce look in their eyes, they weren't about to let him go so easily.

I'll never doubt them again. I'm safe.


"Haven't I told you prowlers before? Stay out of the sewers! This is my territory!"

He knew exactly how he ended up tangled in these deep murky catacombs this stranger referred to as 'the sewers'. Prior to his frantic argument with the foreign feline about whether or not he was trespassing intentionally, the sky beyond his vision was darkened and hazy. Sandy puddles had formed around his limply draped paws, fur kept in an oddly comfortable mixture of damp and dry. Even as he enjoyed the rain's comforts, it wasn't ideal sleeping weather if one wanted to avoid a nasty cough come morning. He had found himself wandering aimlessly, wet sand squishing against his sore pads. His initial intent was seeking shelter, but that want was sated and pushed aside once another problem arose.

A savage bark cut through the misty rain, hollow and hungry. The tiny cat was taught to recognize that sound when twolegs had taken their companions on beachside travels. They just let them romp around and play in the waves. This time, the huge beast managed to catch a whiff of feline, fully prepared to run it down. Now in a one track set mind, the dark gray lump of fur took off in the opposite direction, at the same time frantically searching for a hiding place.

Thank StarClan when a hollowed out protrusion made itself known in the stacked stones. Wasting no time, he dove in the hazy cavern, instantly repulsed by its off-putting musk of rotting fish. However, when the cries of a dog became evident in proving it was literally a fox length from the entrance, the reeking tunnel seemed like the more favorable option. With a slip of his water cleansed pads, he discovered an even deeper hole behind him. Curiosity got the better of his youthful mind, leading his conscious- and soon after, his paws- down the wayward path of darkness laced with a murky, off-putting musk.

Within only a few minutes he reached the end of the chasm, vocalizations of his own creation bouncing off the surrounding, slimy curves. Unfortunately, his cries of excitement brought the unwanted attention of an onlooker- an onlooker who had no intentions of sharing this underground haven. A scream, a threat and a few swipes later, the underground dweller had made his point perfectly clear. The former only had to establish a countermove.

"I didn't mean to! I was chased down here by a dog! Why don't you believe me?"

His protests were all but in vain, helpless to the reign of claws that threatened to claw him down to the bone. Unless a savior arrived- highly unlikely- he would most undoubtedly bleed to death in this foul smelling hole.

"Floodpaw?"

"Mistpaw?"

But he was saved. It had never occurred to him he even had a sister until this very moment. He had allowed his fear and simple mind to rule his thoughts and shockingly push aside the memory of being born with a double. He was genuinely surprised he remembered her name. Letting the past rush back to his head, his following actions were nothing but muscle memory; the casual grins, the genius plan, the sibling connections. All had been done a thousand times before and would continue a thousand times more.


"Besides, mud on your pelt makes you look so much prettier."

It was just in his nature. His friend and clanmate for eleven moons had defined him as nothing more than an outright flirt. He wriggled his way through training with charm and charisma, flouncing his sweet talk with a twinkle of his eyes and a tilt of the head. It was rare for someone to ignore such a compliment.

OK, so maybe it wasn't much of a compliment as he wished it was. The fact remained that this particular specimen was one of those rare cases who refused to even associate with the cream furred hustler. Why was she ignoring him?

"I am Alpha. I am leader. I am strong."

He didn't remember much. Thunder, lightning, a torrential rainstorm. Murky liquid swamped his vision, the same salty flood escaping in gulps down his windpipe and into his lungs. His temple inflamed with pain, an obvious harsh blow to the head resulting in a lack of complete vision and void of hearing.

As his dry, dark eyes finally opened some unknown days later, they had instantly connected with an even darker pair of emeralds, placed upon such a pretty black framed visage. She'd been so kind and friendly to him from the instant he crawled shakily to his paws. She helped fill in the blanks to his mind- he remembered who he was. Supposedly.

There wasn't any significant days in between the time he awoke and the arrival of a suspiciously recognizable pair of small felines. He fought away the bubbling confusion in his head, retaliating in his proud voice how they had confused him with someone else. Surely, there was no way he was this "Wildpaw" they spoke of, could there?

"I remember!"

Everything. It all came crashing back into in his head in one final burst of vocalized energy. That final spark, kindled by the same she-cat bleeding her insides out onto the infested flooring. He wasn't whom he had originally thought. That pretty female all cut up and dying was his friend. The tomcat screaming for her safety was his own denmate.

That face may have been beautiful, but those eyes were full of cruelty.

"I am Wildpaw!"

He would not stand to be oppressed - forced to live as someone he was not.

Not anymore, at least.

"Wildpaw of BlizzardClan!"

And he wouldn't let anyone forget it.


I wont even apologize. OK, maybe I will. XD I meant to get this up before school started, but you know...procrastination calls. So in the time I've escaped for a few hours from the death grip that is 'homework', I've been finishing up this latest chapter.

The final thoughts of the remaining party members.

Saddening, isn't it?

Fret not, I still have one final, official chapter that will bring us to the end zone. That, as well as a quite intriguing epilogue.

Until that day,

- Snarky