'I am no king
I have no throne.'
'Room to Breathe' - You Me at Six
¢нαρтєя тωєηту-єιgнт: тняσυgн тнє ѕqυαℓℓ
The storm had not lessened over night. When Eaglestrike awoke from his patchy sleep it still roared all around them. He could not tell what time of day it was, it left him disorientated to wake up to sight that was identical to the one he'd closed his eyes to. Beside him the others remained deep in their slumbers, or at least he thought they did.
"We aren't going anywhere today," Apollo yawned from the other side of the den mouth. She rolled onto her back, "might as well get some extra rest whilst we can!"
Eaglestrike shifted to stare over at her, watching as she blinked sleepily at him. "We need to continue moving today. The sooner we get out of tribe territory the better."
"You seriously think the tribe cats are going to be travelling all the way out here after a couple of Clan cats in this?" Apollo grinned.
"I'd rather not take that chance," he grumbled, tail tip twitching.
The white she-cat shook her head in disbelief. "Rainpatch needs to rest. Forcing him back out into this will just make him sicker. If you won't listen to me I'm sure Icepetal will knock some sense into you. Weren't you taught as a kit that going out into storms is dangerous? Stupid toms thinking they can conquer the world," she rolled her eyes. "Let's just wait the storm out."
"Fine, if you think we should wait the storm out then we'll do that, but we still need to hunt. We haven't eaten since yesterday."
"My goodness! No food since yesterday!? How haven't you wasted away yet? You Clan cats have lived privileged lives for far too long. Welcome to the real world, out here food isn't a given right, and going hungry once in a while is a normal thing. Your bellies will survive a day and night without food," Apollo teased lightly.
Eaglestrike's glare did little to ruffle her fur; she simply returned it with a bright smile, rolled over, and went back to sleep, quiet little snores showing how peaceful she was. It was bizarre, he thought, for a cat to be so comfortable when caught in the middle of a storm. Then again there was not much he knew about Apollo, only that she was far too casual with absolutely everything. Where was her family? Where did she come from? What had drawn her into the tribe's territory? Why had she decided to tag along?
Which are you?
He pawed at his ears, trying to pry the question from his mind. It had haunted him all night, whispered quietly in the corners of his dreams. Why was it such an important question? So what if he hadn't been born to be a leader? He could still become one, could still lead the Chosen to victory without the privilege of noble birth or a star in his heart. A slight smile twisted his muzzle. That's what he would do. He would show Apollo just how ridiculous those stories were. Cats with stars in their hearts, he snort, how stupid.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, a shadow moving so very delicately across the far side of the den, the side where Apollo slumbered peacefully. Not wanting to draw attention to himself he didn't move his head, just tracked the movement with a half-opened eye. It seemed to be hovering just off the ground, legs not quite meeting the sandy floor. Mouth open it sported savage fangs. Leaning down the shadow's mouth moved as though it was speaking, but Eaglestrike could hear no words. He thought he saw Apollo stiffen. When it moved again it was only to straighten up, and then it was gone in a flash of lightning that he could have sworn was tinged red.
The breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in rushed out. Swallowing he tore his gaze from the peculiar she-cat, returning it to the violent storm outside. Just a trick of the light, he told himself weakly, I'm just tired is all. As if to better believe the flawed lie he'd come up with he allowed his eyelids to slide shut, and for sleep to take away the weariness tugging at his body.
It was the rustle of fur and scuffing of paws that woke him next. Sleepily blinking he was disheartened to see that it was still dark out, pale flashes of lightning illuminating the vacant land, rain thrumming in a steady rhythm. Silhouetted against the set's mouth was Icepetal, fur still rumpled from sleep. Her posture was slumped and defeated.
A lump formed in his throat. It seemed that everywhere he turned there was a reminder of who they'd been forced to leave behind. Quietly, as to not wake Littleflame, he rose to his paws, shaking damp sand from his pelt. "Do you think he's okay?" Icepetal murmured to him once he'd sat down.
He didn't need to ask who. "Yes. He's tough, you know that."
"I know, but we're so far away from home. What if they forced him out into the storm? What if he's stumbling blindly through the storm trying to find us?" her voice was so dead, it scared Eaglestrike a little.
"Willowclaw's a RogueClan warrior; he wouldn't let a silly old storm kill him. And, if I'm to be completely honest with you," he waited till Icepetal looked at him, flinching at the utter loneliness he saw reflected in her blue eyes, "I don't think the tribe will let him go anytime soon."
She stared back out into the darkness. "Why would they keep him?"
"I don't think even Fuhren knows why he made that decision. But he did, and now we have to deal with the consequences. Perhaps Willowclaw's destiny is to live with the tribe," Eaglestrike answered carefully.
"No," Icepetal snapped. "His destiny is the same as ours! Defeat Crimson and go home! That's what the prophecy said; it didn't say anything about staying with a tribe. I refuse to believe anything else because, because...because if I do..." she stopped talking.
"Do you really believe that all our destinies are the same?"
Her fur bristled. "Are you saying that they aren't?"
"I don't think our destinies end when we defeat Crimson. I think they stretch on far past that, up until the moment we die. We can still have a normal life after we fulfil the prophecy," he assured, putting on a fake smile in the hopes that it would cheer up the she-cat. He worried that his own insecurities might shine through.
Icepetal barked out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Don't be thick-headed! I'm sure your Clan will be more than pleased with the little thing you've got going on with Littleflame. Do you plan on just pretending she never existed? Is she just something to keep you entertained whilst you're away from home? She deserves far better than that. Besides," she shook her head, "haven't you forgotten that I've been exiled from my home? I don't have anywhere to go back too. So stop feeding me all this rubbish about life going back to normal; for all you know we might not even make it back alive."
His mouth went dry. She was right, what had he been thinking? Darkbreeze would kill him if he came home after vanishing for moons with a CedarClan she-cat in tow. Would Littleflame even want anything to do with him when they got back? If they got back? A quiet yawn snagged his attention, looking over his shoulder he watched the small she-cat in question stretch as she woke up, not missing the flutter his heart gave.
Angered by Icepetal's accusations he spat back at her, "oh and I assume you and Willowclaw had talked all this through before that tribe heiress caught his eye?"
It wasn't hard to miss the surprise, and then hurt that darkened her features. "What about the tribe heiress? She wasn't anyone important."
"I'm real sure Willowclaw thought the same. You know, they were inseparable more-or-less, always going off by themselves for long periods of time. They seemed very close," Eaglestrike couldn't stop the nasty, satisfied feeling he was getting from watching Icepetal's hurt grow. "Could've sworn he'd forgotten about you a couple of times."
"Do me a favour," she seethed, "and slit your own throat, wouldn't want to stain my claws with your dirty blood." Claws whistled by his ear, then she turned and made her way to the back of the set, slumping to the sandy floor behind Rainpatch.
A sudden surge of guilt near swept Eaglestrike off his paws. What had he done!? He was supposed to be creating a team, not making enemies! Icepetal was already hurting even if she didn't want to admit it, and he'd just gone and made it worse with his stupid temper. So submerged in self-hate he didn't notice Littleflame picking her way towards him until her muzzle brushed his shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
"No," he answered honestly, throwing a glance back at Icepetal. "How hard do you think Willowclaw's loss has hit Icepetal?"
Littleflame looked at him quizzically, "why are you talking about him like he's dead? We'll get him back once we've beaten Crimson."
"But it's like he's dead, isn't it?"
"I suppose if you want to look at it that way, but thinking like that isn't going to make him being gone any easier to deal with," she said softly, leaning into him.
Eaglestrike sighed and rested his head on top of hers. "What would I do without you?"
"Make everything worse than it really is," she giggled.
He chuckled, "probably. I said something terrible to Icepetal."
"Apologise."
"I don't think she'll forgive me, the things I said were uncalled for and downright mean."
Littleflame shrugged. "The least you can do is say sorry, whether she forgives you or not is her decision."
They fell into a comfortable silence but Eaglestrike could not stop his mind from racing. Losing Willowclaw, even if it was only for the time being, was having a bigger effect than he'd first thought. It had shaken the foundation of the Chosen to its very core. The knowledge that the prophecy might not be fulfilled weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he suspected that it did the same to the others as well. But they couldn't go back and rescue him. It was too risky. The tribe were far too strong, one or more of them would die.
If they didn't go back, if they just continued on their journey, would it all be a waste?
"Stop fussing over me! I'm not dying!" Rainpatch's offended squawk sounded through the storm.
"You didn't listen to Tau either, did you?" Icepetal hissed.
The WaveClan tom tapped the ground with his forepaws. "I might have found the ants a little more interesting. What!?" he exclaimed at Icepetal's arched brow, "They were making more sense than she was."
"So you have no idea what's wrong with your lungs?" she pressed, flicking him with her tail. There was a little bit of warmth in her eyes, but not much.
"Only that they're sore."
There was a thud as Icepetal thwacked Rainpatch. "Your lungs are damaged, injured when she dropped that tree on you. Too much vigorous exercise and you'll die. Understand now?"
"You know I didn't really plan to drop the tree on him, in fact I didn't even know he was there until Willowclaw yanked him out," Apollo interrupted, not moving from her stretched out position.
"How could you not know I was there? I was dangling from Padshiy's mouth!" Rainpatch spluttered.
Apollo rolled her eyes, "you didn't exactly stick out."
The den was closing in around him, sandy sides pressing against him, drawing closer with each flutter of his eyelids. He needed out, he needed out now. A roar of thunder did little to quell his need to dance through the rain, and feel the wind toss his fur. The abandoned set was beginning to wear him down, as were the damning thoughts tugging on his mind.
"Where are you going?" Littleflame inquired softly upon seeing the reddish tom step out of the safety of the shallow set, raising his muzzle to feel the sharp wind rush over it. She made no attempt to follow him out into the squall.
He didn't answer for a while; eyes squeezed shut against the harsh rain. "I need to make sure we weren't followed," he explained eventually, though he didn't meet her gaze or even open his eyes.
"You can't go by yourself!" Littleflame protested immedialty.
A single stormy blue eye fixated on her, "why not? I can look after myself."
"I'll go with him," Apollo interrupted, grinning at Littleflame, "just to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. You can stay here and look after Rainpatch."
This time there was no offended disagreement from the white-patched tom, just a grumble of annoyance before he curled his tail over his nose, glaring at the others through the plumy fur. He stuck his tongue out.
Littleflame nodded vigorously. "I won't let anything happen to him!"
"Good," Apollo smiled toothily, and joined Eaglestrike out in the storm. It had lessened slightly, the wind no longer strong enough to blow them off their paws. Rumbles of thunder were no longer roaring crashes above their heads, nor did the lightning flash so bright. The rain, however, still poured from the sky in a heavy torrent.
Without saying a word Eaglestrike strode away from the set in the direction they'd come from, back towards the stream he'd tumbled into yesterday. He wondered if it was flooded now, a turbulent snake of chilling water curving through the grasslands.
Checking to make sure they hadn't been followed had been an excuse, a lie, a way to escape the stifling air of the set. Now he was out, padding through the squall, enjoying every spatter of rain against his pelt. He turned away from the stream – he could hear it gurgling loudly already – and started parallel to it, drawing further and further away from safety, further into the unknown.
Beside him Apollo walked in silence, her ears flattened against her skull, and pelt slicked back against her muscled frame. He didn't notice the way her claws sunk into the wet ground, or the way her pelt bristled slightly. What he did notice was the intelligent glint in her eyes, the countless scars that peered out from beneath her white fur, and the powerful roll of her shoulders. He wanted to know about her: where she'd come from, who she was.
"Are you running away?" the question felt like a solid blow.
His steps faltered, "of course not!"
"Why not?" Apollo sounded genuinely confused. "This is the best moment to do it. Are you telling me you left the set with the goal of returning?"
"I can't just run away when things get tough! That's not what being a Clan warrior is about. We stick by each other through thick and thin," Eaglestrike exclaimed.
She furrowed her brow in what he thought might be disbelief. "I don't understand you Clanners at all, you're always lying and pretending to be better than you are," her tone grew angry. "Can't you for once in your life admit that everything isn't perfect? That all you want to do is leave the others behind and go home?"
"No," Eaglestrike snapped, swinging his head around to glare at the black-spotted she-cat, "I won't admit that. It might be true that most things are far from perfect right now but there has never been a moment, and there never will be one, when I even consider just abandoning the others. We have all come too far to just give up now. We are a team, we are Clan cats, and we will stick together to the end. That's what it means to be a Clan cat: to see everything through till the end alongside those you love."
"You Clanners sound like a bunch of martyrs."
"A what?"
She snorted in amusement. "Here I am using words you've never heard before," Apollo shook her head. "A martyr is anyone who is willing to suffer or die for something like a cause or a belief, even a principle; someone who would rather die than renounce their religion." She shot him a quick glance, "a bunch of martyr's you Clanners are."
"There's nothing wrong with standing up for a belief if you believe it to be right."
"I never said there was."
There was a silence, loaded and tense, but then it broke, both forgoing their arguments to dissolve into laughter. "You're very smart," Eaglestrike pointed out once his laughter had subsided.
Apollo smiled, "you'd be surprised how much these eyes of mine have seen. I had good teachers amongst the bad ones. Besides, life makes you smart; the longer you live it the smarter you get."
"I'm tempted to ask how old you are simply because you're making yourself sound like some ancient elder who's seen more seasons than cats."
Her laughter was almost infectious, and she cuffed the back of his head lightly. "Don't you know it's rude to ask a she-cat how old she is?" her grin was mischevious. "I think it's fair to say that I've seen many more sunrises than you have. Makes you go a little loopy, being on your own for so long."
"Don't you have a home that you visit?" Eaglestrike was so very curious.
"Oh, I haven't been welcome there for moons. It's not important anymore. Being alone has given me the chance to travel where I want; go as far as I want without having to worry about anybody else. It's been nice," her answer was hesitant.
He cocked his head to the left, "then why are you tagging along with us?"
"For a bunch of Clan cats you're pretty fun, and I like the added danger of you lot being prophesised to save the world or something," Apollo winked.
She lunged at him without a moment's notice, claws digging into his shoulders to tug him to the ground, throwing her weight at him to roll him. They splashed into the muddy ground, Eaglestrike blinking in bewildered shock, Apollo wrenching her shoulders to roll him into his back. He swallowed a mouthful of mud, coughing and hacking, as his body was violently forced to roll. There was a pinprick of pain in his shoulder, the familiar pain of claws piercing skin. It woke him from his shock and he retaliated, hind-leg's catching Apollo in the stomach. She grunted but her grip didn't weaken.
He watched, the world seeming to slow down around him, as her teeth near his exposed throat, going straight for the kill. The storm broke above them with a final clap of thunder. He waited for the pain, for the end, and met her gaze in one last defiant stand. Her path to his throat stuttered to a stop. The weight pressing down on him abruptly vanished, Apollo scurrying away to a safe distance.
"Just testing your reflexes," she purred, masking whatever he'd seen in her eyes remarkably well. He looked a little closer, almost able to see the weary cracks in her once bright smile. It looked worn down and tired, twitching against the tension used to keep it up. Before he could look more she turned away, trotting back towards the set.
His mind whirred all the way back coming to the conclusion once the shallow set was in sight that Apollo might not be who the others thought she was. There was no changing what he thought of her: she was magnificent really. But that did not stop the uneasy feeling.
Littleflame raced out into the slowing rain to meet him, a frantic, panicked look on her face. "What's happened?" he demanded.
"It's Rainpatch and Icepetal," the orange she-cat panted. "They've gone back to save Willowclaw!"
an: so many reviews i love you guys. also, check out 'Dabble in Drabble' and 'Cold' they're one-shots and stuff to do with the Game of Blood world.