Phew. Sorry for the late update, but I've had a busy busy two weeks. Graduation was on Saturday and recital was Sunday, and I had relatives down, so I was a little lacking in the time department. I had planned to update on Wednesday, but then I…I just didn't want to write this chapter.
Speaking of: Last chapter guuuuys. I had another one planned when I first started outlining, but as long as everyone feels that this chapter wraps up the story nicely, then it won't be written. This will also be my last AN, because I don't want it to clutter up the ending. Thank you so much for the recent support! It makes me happy to know people are reading, and I really really hope I don't disappoint you. It's been a slow, somewhat-fulfilling journey, but a good one all the same, methinks. :)
Well, onto the final chapter!
The air is cold and crisp outside of Crookedstar's den. Splashpelt and I returned to camp without waiting for Timberfur and Mallowtail, mostly at my urging. I want to see our noble deputy's expression when he sees I'm still alive.
Crookedstar suddenly prowls out from under the roots of the willow heading the camp, Splashpelt coming right behind him with barely concealed excitement. It flashes darkly in his eyes, sparking the blue flecks in them so that they stand out like dust scattered over a pool of black water.
"RiverClan!" Crookedstar yowls without missing a beat. He remains standing, but Splashpelt bounds in front of the crowd that had already begun to gather when just the two of us returned from our patrol and went straight to the leader's den. I silently join Briarclaw, wincing as the poultice _ gave me burns along my shoulders. The feeling isn't entirely unpleasant, but it stings.
She barely even looks up at me. Rockfur's and Nightpaw's deaths hit her hard, and now she hardly even speaks to any cat. If I sit next to her, I know she won't ask any annoying questions. She won't even say anything.
Before I joined RiverClan and met my mother, when I only daydreamed about what kind of cat she was, maybe I would have tried to comfort her. Maybe I imagined she would be the one comforting me in this kind of situation, and that together we would become even closer and move on. But now I know that it will take her a long time to recover, if ever, and I'm in no loving mood to be nursing her back to her former self. She isn't the cat I always wanted to be my mother, even if she had been at one time. And I'm sure I'm not the son she always wanted when I'm abandoning her like this.
Crookedstar's eyes rake over the crowd. Everyone's head jerks to the reed wall as the dry plants rustle and Mallowtail and Timberfur enter. They're both out of breath, but as soon as Timberfur's hard eyes find me, he freezes. We lock gazes, and even though I can't tell what expression I might be wearing, it's enough that Timberfur knows I'm aware that he tried to have me killed. That Nightpaw was killed when he had meant for it to be me. A snarl twists his lips momentarily before it's smothered and he looks to Crookedstar. The leader nods for the two of them to join the gathering.
"ThunderClan has entered our territory and attacked one of our own warriors!" Crookedstar says, raising his voice so that it carries even to the furtherest corners of the camp. Gasps break out and murmurs spread like wildfire among the cats, and Crookedstar lets them for a moment. Better to let them get agitated for what is sure to come next, I guess.
"We can't let them get away with this!" someone snarls. Shouts rise in agreement, and Crookedstar flicks his tail for silence. It takes a moment in coming, but as soon as he repeats the gesture, the only sound in the camp is the soft lapping of waves against the sand.
"Tonight, we will show ThunderClan that they cannot break the warrior code as they please and enter our territory without permission," Crookedstar says. His voice is low and calm, and all the more intense for it. "We will show them who the true owners of Sunningrocks are!"
The Clan raises its many voices in cheer, agreement, whatever emotion it is that I should currently be feeling. But right now, the chance for revenge is the only thing that sings through my veins as I scan the crowd for Timberfur. If I can get him alone during the battle, all I have to do is kill him and make it look like ThunderClan did it. It's a reckless plan, but it had been forming in the back of my head ever since Splashpelt went to inform Crookedstar of Tigerclaw's trespassing. No one would ever suspect me. They would have no reason to, what with Timberfur and I constantly avoiding one another. There's no connection between us to make.
I get the feeling that Timberfur is thinking along similar lines, because when I finally find him, it is only to lock gazes with him in grim understanding. One way or another, this will end tonight.
XXX
In the distance, cats yowl in surprise and pain, triumph and pleasure in finally being able to get revenge and defend one's Clan's honor. Words are too far away to be distinct where we are. It wouldn't matter even if they were only a few tail-lengths away, though; I wouldn't hear them regardless. Only the soft scuffling of wind through the dead leaves, skittering over one another across the dry packed ground, surrounds us.
"So this is it," Timberfur says. He crouches across from me, prepared to fight in case I attack him while he speaks. "We don't leave here until one of us is dead."
"I'm surprised you're being so noble about this," I say, curling my lip as the taunt leaves my tongue. I can feel my belly fur brush against the ground as light as feathers over water. "I would've expected you to bring a few ThunderClan friends to fight in your place."
"I don't need anyone's help to finish off a weakling like you," Timberfur laughs. He bends closer to the ground.
"Really? I wouldn't have guessed it from the way you got Tigerclaw to kill my sister, and tried again to make him kill me," I hiss. Timberfur snarls and springs towards me. I roll out of the way, using my lower height to my advantage to dodge him. I barely have time to make it back on my paws before he's at my side, clawing down my flank.
I clench my jaws shut to prevent a hiss of pain escaping as his claws sink past my fur into skin, drawing out thick streaks of blood. I jump in front of him, raking my claws down his face in rapid succession while he's distracted by his brief victory. He yowls and backs away, shaking his head. Dark droplets rain down.
A streak of burning satisfaction courses through my veins as I leap onto his back, sensing an opening. He doesn't fall under my weight since I'm too light—not immediately. Once I sink my teeth into his throat, he goes down fast enough.
His hot blood gushes around my mouth, nearly making me choke and lose my grip. He struggles underneath me, his legs flailing as he tries to reach me, but I'm directly on his back. After a moment, his struggles become weaker until eventually they stop altogether. He is still, and if not for the amount of blood soaking my muzzle and paws, I might've kept holding on, just to make sure he wasn't faking death in order to make me drop my guard.
I slowly back away from him. Something twists inside my stomach as my eyes meet his, filled with the clouds of summer as they stare listlessly into the distance. There's something about those eyes that watch me as I pace away.
Timberfur's dead. I killed him. His brown pelt gleams dully in the faint glow of the moon, the light lingering lovingly over the pool of liquid below his throat and drenched in his fur. It's enough to make a cat sick, but now that the initial feeling of disgust has passed, all I can feel in me is a heightened sense of euphoria that refuses to be ignored. It breathes down my paws, lending energy to them when they felt heavy as rocks only moments ago. I did it. Timberfur's dead. I killed him.
A branch snaps behind me and I whirl towards the sound. A dark shape sits under cover of a patch of brambles, dark blue eyes illuminated eerily as they watch me, unblinking, steady. A snarl rises in the back of my throat.
The cat stands and daintily shakes a paw, as if stepping out of a patch of morning dew that had coated the grass she had walked across. She steps forward into the light of the clearing, ears twitching as the light hits them, as if she can feel it. The snarl slips between my teeth as a sigh of relief. My tail drops down and I force my fur to lie smooth once more. "Rainstep."
"I would ask what you're doing here," she says slowly, ignoring the greeting as her eyes flick to Timberfur's body, "but that would imply that I don't know."
"You mean, you knew all along that Timberfur was plotting to kill Crookedstar?" I ask, shocked. I take a step forward to meet her, and her eyes snap up to my face, as if in warning. I falter, and stop. "And about Nightpaw, too? Why didn't you say anything? Crookedstar would've trusted you; you're a pure-blood RiverClan warrior."
"It was more interesting just to watch the game rather than play in it," Rainstep says.
"You mean you thought of all of this as a game?" I demand, my elation at killing Timberfur and seeing Rainstep fast fading. "Cats dying, losing comrades—that was all just a game for you?"
"In short, yes," Rainstep answers. She walks toward me, her tail swaying slowly, easily behind her. Everything about her suggests that we're having nothing more than a conversation about the weather. Her shoulders are relaxed, her claws are still sheathed. Still, something about the way her bright eyes are locked on mine sends a shiver down my spine. "After all, what is life but a game? What will it matter in four, five years? Most of us won't be around anymore; we'll just be a memory. And even then, we will disappear once those who remember us die. If we're going to evaporate in the grand scheme of things anyways, why not enjoy our time here?"
"We don't disappear," I say. "We go to StarClan, to watch over the cats who are still alive."
"StarClan," Rainstep scoffs. "They no more exist than Timberfur does now. And even if they did, who would want to sit around and protect a group of ungrateful cats who constantly fight with one another, even after being told several times not to? It sounds like a bore."
"You don't believe in StarClan," I say stupidly. It's all I can think of, even though she basically just stated that. I can still feel blood trickling down my side from where Timberfur's claws sunk in. I wonder how much I've lost. Not nearly so much as him, but enough that I'm worried about it.
"No," Rainstep says thoughtfully. She stops directly in front of me, our noses only a mouse-length apart. "No, I suppose I don't."
With a speed that I've never seen before, she brings her claws across my neck. They sink deeper than any wound I've ever received, deeper even than Timberfur's from a few moments ago. I stagger back, still feeling her claws scratching through the back of my throat even though her paws are both on the ground in front of her.
"Wh…" I fall to the ground, struggling just to gasp in air that isn't enough, mindlessly trying to keep it in my throat, but it just leaves as soon as it's in my mouth, and it won't go to my lungs. My chest heaves as panic overcomes me. My eyes won't focus on anything, and the clearing spins in circles that make me even shorter of breath. The edges of my vision blur. Black creeps at the edges.
Rainstep stands over me, looking down at me with tilted head and curious eyes. My sight goes completely dark, but not before I hear her say, "You know, it really is a shame, Owlfall. RiverClan won't be nearly as interesting without you."