Only a Game

by Sharn-sharn

Snowpaw just became an apprentice, and his mentor is Wolfstrike. He's thrilled to have such a popular, brilliant cat as a mentor. But appearances can be deceiving, because, unknown to Snowpaw, Wolfstrike is secretly plotting the Clan's downfall, and makes a game out of all of it. And, when everything ends as it always does, Snowpaw has to question: was it really only a game?

This is a challenge for CloudClan.

. . .

"Hey, Brightkit!" Snowkit exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of his sister. "Mum just told me we might become apprentices today! Isn't it great?"

"Mhm," she murmured absently through a mouthful of vole. "Just great, Snowkit."

That was when she turned away from him. He scowled. "Don't ignore me."

"I just did," she stated smugly.

Snowkit huffed, his lips pursing in annoyance. "Well, if you're not going to talk to me, then I'll just find somebody who will!"

"Hm, good luck with that," she responded flippantly.

"Stop being so mean," he whined.

When she didn't respond, Snowkit scowled again. He figured that if she wasn't going to listen to him now, then there was always later. Besides, after what Mum said about them becoming apprentices, Snowkit found that he couldn't sit still. He was just so excited!

Snowkit turned the other way so that he didn't have to see her dismissive back, and he found himself grinning stupidly. He just couldn't wait, and it probably showed on his face when a few of his Clanmates gave him smiling looks when he padded past them.

"Isn't he just a sweetie?" Snowkit heard one very pregnant queen coo to her friend.

"Adorable," she agreed.

Snowkit flushed to the tip of his ears, and made a point of keeping his head down. Who knew what other things the she-cats would come up with, and Snowkit didn't want to know. He wasn't a baby, for StarClan's sake.

But his musings were cut off when, abruptly, a large shadow fell over him.

"Well, well," a familiar voice sneered. "If it isn't the loser himself."

Snowkit stiffened, a grimace twisting at his lips. He knew who it was without even looking up. That voice was distinctive, and in response, a shiver rattled through his bones.

Suddenly afraid to look up, Snowkit murmured, "Please, Hawkpaw, not today."

"Not today, he says?" That very familiar laughter rang in his ears, and Snowkit found the courage to look up.

He saw what he usually did: a dark-brown tom with a distinctive pattern on his face- squiggly black lines here and there. His amber eyes were as cold as ice.

"Hey, Mudpaw," Hawkpaw called. "Snowkit's being rude today. What do you say we give him a lesson in respect?"

Snowkit cringed away at the statement, and took a step back. His tail brushed against something hard and warm, and he nearly jumped a tail-length in the air, so startled he was.

Hawkpaw suddenly gasped, his face twisting from terrible glee to… something else. Snowkit couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was either fear or respect. Something close to the two.

"What's going on here?" a smooth voice demanded.

"N-Nothing," the brown apprentice stammered, his watery eyes taking on a clear sheen. "Nothing's going on, Wolfstrike."

"I'll be the judge of that," the newcomer said firmly, and Snowkit turned his head the other way, his heart sinking as he caught sight of who it was.

Timber-grey in appearance, with soft yellow eyes, it was Wolfstrike, one of ThunderClan's senior warriors. He was very popular, and Snowkit thought that he would listen to Hawkpaw over himself.

After all, Hawkpaw was strong, smart, and popular. But a real bully to those he believed was under him. Like Snowkit.

"Snowkit," the warrior said, his voice taking on a gentle tone. "What's happening here?"

Snowkit was at a loss for words. He glanced over at Hawkpaw, and the brown apprentice was glaring at him with death written on his face. Snowkit cringed. If he told Wolfstrike what was really going on, then Hawkpaw would hurt him.

And so Snowkit made up his mind.

"Nothing," he said firmly. "Nothing is happening here."

"Yeah," Hawkpaw purposefully butted in. "Nothing's happening."

"Very well." Wolfstrike paused, his face becoming grim. "But if I ever hear something like that again. That is, threatening your Clanmates, I will be going straight to Redstar. Are we clear, Hawkpaw?"

"But-" Hawkpaw started to protest, but was silenced by a single look.

"Are we clear, Hawkpaw?"

Hawkpaw swallowed his retort, squeezed his tearing eyes shut, and grumbled, "Yes."

Snowkit looked at the spectacle in wonder, and no amount of awe. Wolfstrike was so… so cool. Not only had he defended Snowkit from Hawkpaw, he had also taken the snivelling bully down a few pegs.

When Wolfstrike turned to Snowkit, he didn't bother to wipe the beaming grin he knew was on his face. He was that happy! Finally someone had stood up for him, even though the situation was not what it seemed.

"Are you alright, Snowkit?" he asked gently, but not in that tone all the queens would use. That horrible cooing that was sugared in sweetness. The tone that Wolfstrike used was a tone that he would probably use with other cats in casual conversation. It made Snowkit feel mature, made him feel… special.

Snowkit nodded vigorously, his smile still in place. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Wolfstrike smiled. "I'm glad to hear that."

. . .

"Can all cats old enough to catch their own prey, come beneath the high rock for a Clan meeting!" Redstar yowled.

The ginger she-cat hopped down from the high rock just as the Clan began to gather in the clearing, all with interested eyes and gossipy whispers.

Snowkit beamed from his place beside his sister.

Brightkit was studiously ignoring him, her eyes firmly kept on her paws. Not that Snowkit cared. All he cared was getting a good mentor.

Maybe the leader would mentor him, and he eyed her with interest. She was getting on in age, but that didn't mean she was weak. Snowkit thought she was really cool because she had the highest position in the Clan: the leadership!

And then there was the deputy, Duskpool. Duskpool was Snowkit's father, even though he pretended that he didn't exist.

Snowkit didn't mind. He thought that Duskpool must have been really strong to get the deputyship. He certainly looked strong. He was huge, with creamy fur and large, bunched muscles.

"Today, we have two kits who have yet to be named apprentices," Redstar began, her voice low and deep. "It's a good day for all of us, and it shows that ThunderClan will remain prosperous for many seasons to come."

Snowkit trembled with excitement as her murky gaze landed on him. "Snowkit, from now on, until you become a warrior, you will be known as Snowpaw. Wolfstrike, you will mentor Snowpaw. You learned much from our dearly departed Ferntail, and I hope that you will teach Snowpaw all you know."

Wolfstrike was his mentor!

Snowpaw was so happy that he nearly burst into tears right then and there. He looked up as Wolfstrike padded toward him, meeting his beaming grin with a winning smile of his own.

They touched noses, and Snowpaw whispered, "Hi."

Wolfstrike rumbled in amusement. "Hello."

. . .

Wolfstrike felt annoyed.

His new apprentice was ambling beside him, babbling about things that Wolfstrike had no care for. And that was the crux of the matter: Snowpaw was immensely annoying. He was a thorn in Wolfstrike's side, and would prevent his plans from going into motion.

Wolfstrike didn't know what Redstar had been thinking. Surely the fool had gone senile in her old age? First for choosing that mouseheart Duskpool as deputy over him, and then giving him an apprentice.

So, right now, Wolfstrike felt more than annoyed. He was incensed.

His last apprentice had been a whiny know-it-all who had gotten herself killed shortly after becoming a warrior, and now he had to deal with this inexperienced ingrate?

He was sure that StarClan was laughing at him right at that moment, but he wouldn't know, and nor did he care.

All he cared about was getting rid of this insufferable apprentice.

But Wolfstrike couldn't just go up to Redstar and demand to be relieved of him. No, that would be bad form, and he didn't want his reputation as a kind, caring individual to be tarnished.

So, he would have to keep his chin up and just bear with it.

"Hey, Wolfstrike?"

If Wolfstrike were any lesser cat, then he would have jerked in surprise. But since he wasn't, he merely kept up his mask of forced calm, plastering a fake smile on his face that looked genuine to anyone who didn't look too close.

"Yes, Snowpaw?"

"Will we see any ShadowClan cats?" He looked so enthused at the idea that it made Wolfstrike want to roll his eyes.

Wolfstrike couldn't believe that this pathetic scrap of fur was actually his apprentice.

"Only if they cross over the border," he replied calmly. "Or if we pass by a patrol."

"I hope we do!" Snowpaw exclaimed happily. "'Cause I really want to see if they're as terrible as the stories say."

'They aren't' Wolfstrike wanted to say to him. But he didn't. He refrained from saying anything that would spoil his mask.

He hadn't worked so hard for nothing.

It turned out that they did pass by a ShadowClan patrol. Snowpaw was thrilled.

The ShadowClan cats- scum- didn't look particularly excited at having to see a ThunderClan apprentice so happy to see them.

"Wolfstrike," one said, and Wolfstrike wordlessly picked out who it was, only having to glimpse the dark-brown pelt before he deduced that Pineclaw.

"Pineclaw," he returned.

The tabby nodded stiffly before casting his gaze to his patrol. "Come," he ordered.

They all nodded, following after their patrol leader.

Once they were out of sight, Snowpaw said, "Cool."

"And what, Snowpaw, was so 'cool' about a patrol of cats?" Wolfstrike demanded.

Snowpaw blinked oddly at his tone of voice, but he didn't seem to question it. "It's my first time out of camp," he explained. "And they're the first cats I've seen besides our other Clanmates. And they're from another Clan."

"They were from ShadowClan," Wolfstrike felt the need to say.

As he predicted, Snowpaw brightened. "Really?" And when he nodded, the apprentice continued, "That's so cool. So, not only did I get to leave camp for the first time, I also saw ShadowClan cats! That's so unbelievably cool!"

Wolfstrike resisted the urge to snap at the annoying apprentice, just to get him to shut up. But Snowpaw continued on, blissfully ignorant.

"Hey, Wolfstrike," he said. "Wouldn't it be cool to have a friend in another Clan? 'Cause I've been thinking about it for a while, and it didn't seem that far-fetched."

So, his apprentice was idiotic, and put together with annoying, it made for a rather alarming observation.

If Snowpaw truly thought that the Clans could be friends- he sneered at the thought- then he was so naïve that he would be devastated when he found out that his thoughts were the exact opposite. Not that Wolfstrike cared, of course.

Wolfstrike wondered what Snowpaw would be like when he found out just how cold and cruel the world really was, when he would have to fight to survive.

Wolfstrike delighted in that thought. And he told Snowpaw so.

"You can never be friends with the other Clans, Snowpaw," he told his apprentice grimly. "We're eternal enemies. We might band together for a threat, but we'll be stabbed in the back the second we turn around."

"Huh?" Snowpaw tilted his head. "What're you saying, Wolfstrike?"

"I'm saying that the world is colder than you think!" he snapped, delighting in the flinch his comment brought forth.

"I didn't mean to doubt you, Wolfstrike," Snowpaw said, and his voice almost sounded… meek. But that would be ridiculous. Snowpaw was the son of the deputy, he wouldn't let any cat walk over him.

But the truth of the matter was that Snowpaw did let everyone walk all over him. First it was Hawkpaw, and now it was Wolfstrike himself.

Wolfstrike wondered what it would be like to have a cat completely devoted to him, who would trust him over all others, even their beloved father, though the wreck barely acknowledged he had kits, so focussed was he on the deputyship and all it entailed.

Wolfstrike was bitter at Duskpool, for stealing the position he so coveted, and at Redstar for choosing him over Wolfstrike.

And that was when he looked, really looked his new apprentice over.

He looked nothing like his father. For one, his fur was thick and snowy coloured, nothing like the deep cream that his father sported. He was also smaller for one thing, but he had his father's eyes: bright blue. But there was something about those eyes that made Wolfstrike pause. They were huge, filled with naïve hopes and dreams. They were innocent.

They were Duskpool's eyes.

But when Wolfstrike was finished with him, they would no longer be his. No, they would be completely devoted, fixed on one cat: Wolfstrike himself.

Wolfstrike smirked. This would be interesting.

. . .

"I can't believe that I got Wolfstrike as my mentor!" Snowpaw exclaimed.

Though he knew that Brightpaw could care less, he just felt like expelling all of his pent-up energy, and what better way than to tell everyone how his day had gone? His mother had delighted in his story-telling, and had praised him vigorously.

"I know, Snowpaw." His sister rolled her eyes. "I was there, remember?"

Snowpaw grumbled a bit, then said, "How can you be a medicine cat when you're so uncaring?"

"I have a better memory than you," she retorted without missing a beat.

This time, it was Snowpaw's turn to roll his eyes. "Well, I'm going to become a warrior," he boasted. "It's better than messing around with plants."

"And when you get injured, who's going to heal you?" Brightpaw asked sweetly.

Feeling thoroughly put out and knowing that he'd lost the argument (for the infinitive time), he grumbled, "… you."

Brightpaw looked immensely satisfied, and she smirked smugly. "Yes, me."

"Think of all the new things that I will learn tomorrow," Snowpaw intoned just as smugly. "With Wolfstrike."

Brightpaw sighed. "StarClan, Snowpaw," she mumbled. "Stop hero-worshipping him. He can't be that great."

"But he is!" Snowpaw defended. "Did you know that he showed me around the territory today? And that we saw a ShadowClan patrol on the way back?"

"Yes, yes," Brightpaw muttered absently. Clearly, she wasn't going to listen to him anymore, and was, consequently, ignoring him now.

Glowering, Snowpaw snapped, "Fine! Have it your way."

And then he turned the other way and padded out of the den, his head held high. As soon as he was out of there though, his head dropped and his confidence faded away to nothing.

Suddenly, Snowpaw was flying through the air, and he cried out in surprise. He landed with an audible thud, the breath knocked out of him, escaping from his lips in a loud 'whoosh'.

Groaning in pain, Snowpaw attempted to pull himself to a sitting position, but it was then that a large shadow fell over him.

"Hello, Snowpaw," Hawkpaw purred with a horrible smile.

Snowpaw stared up at him in bafflement, and no amount of surprise. "H-Hello," he hesitantly croaked back.

That smile of Hawkpaw's widened even further. "You know, I've been thinking a lot lately, Snowpaw. And I've decided that I want to be your friend."

His eyes widened at his own violation. "A-Are you joking?"

The other apprentice's smile faded. "No," Hawkpaw sneered. "Why would you think that?"

That comment broke the spell between them, and all Snowpaw could feel was colossal shock. Why was Hawkpaw, of all apprentices, offering him friendship after the way he had been treated? Snowpaw had no idea, but, then again, was it possible to change one's ways? And so quickly, too?

Snowpaw was pretty sure that he was gaping at that point, for Hawkpaw let out a soft chuckle. "So, Snowpaw?" he prompted. "Friends?"

NO! His mind screamed. SAY NO!

"…" Snowpaw couldn't reply. It was like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, his lips pressed so tightly together that he couldn't form words.

Hawkpaw was watching him, an expectant look twisting his usual sneering face.

And that was when Snowpaw clammed up.

He swallowed, feeling his throat clog up, before he turned on his heel and fled.

. . .

"Hey, Wolfstrike?"

Wolfstrike paused in the forms he was just beginning to show his young apprentice, and peered down at him curiously.

Snowpaw was gazing up at him with huge, beseeching blue eyes that watered slightly. It was strange, he mused, but not by that much. After all, it seemed as if Snowpaw was the weakest apprentice in the camp.

But not for long.

Wolfstrike smirked as he considered this. He would train Snowpaw up, to the point where the snowy apprentice would become strong and confident, answering only to Wolfstrike himself.

"Yes, Snowpaw?" he prompted in that gentle voice he used to reassure young kits. But Snowpaw seemed to take it all in his stride, brightening up at the sound of name and blinking furiously to clear away the obvious tears that were just beginning to slide down his face.

"What would you do if someone who was really mean to you wanted to be your friend?" he blurted out in a rush.

If Wolfstrike were any lesser cat, he might have blinked. But he simply wasn't. He hadn't really expected the question, but considering that it came from a cat like Snowpaw- who was loving and naïve- it wasn't that surprising.

Wolfstrike didn't even pretend to ponder the question. Instead, he merely said, "What do you think, Snowpaw?"

"What do I think?" Snowpaw echoed, sounding confused. "What do you mean, 'what do I think'?"

"Do you particularly want to be his friend?" he answered patiently. "Has he done anything to warrant this desire? You did say he was mean to you, yes?"

"Yeah," the apprentice mumbled.

He looked very downtrodden, Wolfstrike thought.

And so, he was pleasantly surprised when Snowpaw continued: "Maybe he's changed, Wolfstrike. I really don't know, but I've heard it's possible. I mean, you can't stay evil forever, can you?"

Foolish kit, Wolfstrike thought viciously. There is no good and evil, only cats who are willing to exploit the weaknesses in others, much like myself. You know nothing of the world.

But Wolfstrike never voiced his thoughts out loud. Instead, he said, his voice taking on a calm, gentle tone: "I don't think cats are truly evil, Snowpaw. They all hold a bit of good and bad inside of them, but I think that your actions should speak well enough. And the crux of the matter? Cats can change, make no mistake in that."

"But not Hawkpaw," Snowpaw muttered bitterly. "He's so mean to me. He always gangs up on me and tells me horrible things, and the other day, before you stopped it all, I knew he was going to do something very bad. Maybe something evil, I don't know."

"And what do you think about being his friend?" Wolfstrike asked patiently.

"I think it's a load of fox dung!" Snowpaw suddenly shrieked, and he flinched at his own outburst, though that didn't stop him from continuing on in a more heated manner: "Hawkpaw doesn't want to be my friend, he only wants to make me vul-vul…"

"Vulnerable," Wolfstrike supplied.

Snowpaw nodded. "Yeah, vulnerable. He only wants to make me vulnerable, until he can gang up on me with Mudpaw and do something evil to me. And I don't care about that fox dung of cats changing! Hawkpaw can't change in a day, no one can!"

"I think you're very right, Snowpaw," Wolfstrike responded, relishing in the way that the apprentice blinked up at him owlishly, his expression incredulous. Clearly, he'd never had anyone on his side before.

Not that Wolfstrike blamed him, of course. It was very understandable, what with his father being deputy, and his own sister ignoring him.

But frivolous emotions such as concern didn't interest Wolfstrike. No, not in the least.

What he wanted more than anything right now was Snowpaw's trust, and later, his confidence.

"Snowpaw," he said suddenly.

Snowpaw looked curious. "Yeah, Wolfstrike?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he responded immediately.

And Wolfstrike would have laughed right then and there. In Snowpaw's face, even. The apprentice was such an idiotic fool to trust in someone so blindly, yet Wolfstrike relished it.

It meant that Snowpaw trusted him, maybe more than everyone else, too.

He was finally getting somewhere.

"Snowpaw," Wolfstrike said carefully, weighing his options. "What would you say if I said that I could help you to get revenge on Hawkpaw?"

"What?!" Snowpaw squawked. "Revenge?!"

Wolfstrike would have rolled his eyes, but he didn't. "Yes," he said, voice very dry. "Revenge: the retaliation to your enemy- a retribution of sorts."

"But… but don't evil cats only do this revenge stuff?" the apprentice asked faintly, looking a little green at the thought.

Wolfstrike sighed. "Snowpaw, what did I tell you about good and evil?" he asked, voice stern.

Snowpaw rolled his eyes. "Cats can change, blah, blah, blah. It doesn't explain anything, Wolfstrike. Hawkpaw can't change. He's a jerk, and he does evil stuff."

"But it doesn't make him evil," Wolfstrike pointed out.

No, it didn't. Taunting a cat younger and smaller than yourself was very weak, and the signs of a coward, but it didn't make them evil.

The only evil cat was Redstar. She had made him the enemy by choosing Duskpool over him, when she knew that Wolfstrike himself was the better candidate- Duskpool was weak-minded and foolish. He ignored everything to do with his children, and even his mate, when Wolfstrike would have eagerly partook in the task of raising his kits should- should he ever have any- because then he would be able to mould them any way he liked. The kits would have personal loyalty to their father, and a possible betrayal would be driven so far from their minds that they would show their complete and utter devotion to him.

"No, it does," Snowpaw argued back, his voice noticeably softer than before. "Hawkpaw says horrible things to me all the time, and I know that he wants to hurt me. What's not evil about that? Hawkpaw is evil. Redstar is good, because she's the Clan leader, and Duskpool is just as good, because he's her deputy."

Wolfstrike felt a sneer crease his lips at the apprentice's passionate words. "Does it make him a good father when all he does is sit back and ignore you all day?" he hissed, his venomous words no doubt surprising Snowpaw, for he had not ever spoken to the apprentice in such a way before. No, before it had always been gentle, patient words- the voice for a kit. But now, now he spoke as if Snowpaw were an adult and not a six moon old apprentice.

"He… he is a good father," Snowpaw finally murmured. "He's the Clan deputy, and that's a really good example for me and Brightpaw."

"Did he ever take time out of his busy schedule and actually take the time to play with you?" When Snowpaw shook his head, Wolfstrike continued: "Did he ever acknowledge you in public, call you by your name?"

There was a long pause, and then Snowpaw shook his head again.

"Then Duskpool is surely a bad father if he never played with you," Wolfstrike said silkily.

"But-… i-it doesn't make him evil," Snowpaw said weakly. "He was probably just too busy, being deputy and all."

"As I said before, Snowpaw," Wolfstrike murmured. "Cats can change. Hopefully your father will for the better- though I highly doubt it. There seems to be no ounce of compassion, nor love in that cat. Only duty, and the thirst for control."

Snowpaw's eyes grew wide at the comments that he was spewing forth, though he didn't stop there, finishing with: "Duskpool is a weak-minded, foolish cat who doesn't know what he's missing."

And when he finished, he had to resist the urge to grin smugly down at the ruffled apprentice. But he didn't, instead more inclined to see what Snowpaw's reaction was.

And, finally, he got his answer: "He's not evil," Snowpaw insisted, looking near tears at the thought. "And he's not weak. He didn't become deputy for nothing, you know."

So that's how it would be, Wolfstrike mused. He had an apprentice who was so firm into his beliefs that they couldn't be shaken off.

Snowpaw believed in good and evil, thought about it every day, when in reality, there was no good and evil. There was only the weakness in others that truly strong cats could utilise for a better purpose.

And Wolfstrike had the fortune, or, perhaps, misfortune, of being born in a Clan where everyone was weak.

He had thought about it before, what it would be like to rule this Clan of such weak-minded individuals, and he thought, No.

He didn't want to rule them. He wanted to destroy them.

That way, the weak would be gone and only the strong would survive.

While Wolfstrike had thought that he could make the Clan better by disposing of Redstar and her faithful deputy, he had realised too soon that that couldn't be an option.

Not only would the rest of the Clan protest, but he would have the apprentice look up at him with huge blue eyes filled with betrayal- betrayal at the extinguishing of his beloved father's life.

Wolfstrike couldn't have that.

No.

And he had the right idea to avoid it.

They would play a little game, to which Snowpaw would fight him, and Wolfstrike would emerge the victor.

Now, it wasn't about moulding Snowpaw into the perfect cat who would obey his every whim with loyalty and devotion. No, it was much deeper than that.

Wolfstrike would use him, and he would dispose of Redstar, and then the father that he held so dear in his heart.

See where that takes him.

"Snowpaw," Wolfstrike began, his voice silky smooth. "How do you feel about playing a game with me?"

"Game?" The apprentice tilted his head, looking confused. "What's a game got to do with training, or cats changing, or even being evil? I'm not a kit anymore, Wolfstrike."

Yes, you are, Wolfstrike thought. And you always will be.

But Wolfstrike didn't voice those thoughts aloud. Instead, he chuckled, his voice warm. "I know you're not, Snowpaw. But this isn't the type of game that a kit would play. No, it's something much more."

An excited glint sparked in those blue eyes. "Like what?" Snowpaw begged. "Tell me, Wolfstrike!"

Wolfstrike didn't hesitate. "It's very complex and there are many rules. But it goes like this: you will attempt to speak with your father, it's imperative that you get him on your side. And you will need a partner. I believe Hawkpaw extended a paw in friendship with you, yes? Accept it. And then, once all of that is accomplished, we will end it, once and for all."

Snowpaw was wide-eyed, but then he wrinkled his nose. "I have to become Hawkpaw's friend? Ew. Why can't I just become Brightpaw's partner?"

"She's the medicine cat apprentice," Wolfstrike said flatly.

"Oh."

Wolfstrike snorted, before smirking.

Yes, all would end, and he would emerge victorious, his enemies disposed of and ThunderClan brought to ruin.

. . .

Snowpaw ran excitedly back into camp. He couldn't wait to tell Brightpaw!

He found her at the fresh-kill pile, sniffing delicately at a small mouse.

"Hey, Brightpaw!" he called out.

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn't turn.

Snowpaw wanted to grumble, but he didn't, only because she always did this- ignore him like he was something insignificant.

But Wolfstrike didn't. Wolfstrike actually listened to him when he talked and didn't treat him like he was an idiotic little kit, like Brightpaw always did.

The thought made him fume slightly, but it died away when Brightpaw finally, finally decided to acknowledge him.

"Yes, Snowpaw?" she inquired, voice bored.

"You wouldn't believe all the things that Wolfstrike taught me today!" he began to babble, but whenever he started to talk, his sister would always look away, as if she were in great pain.

Not that it mattered.

"And I care why, Snowpaw?" Brightpaw droned, turning back to stare down at her food. She seemed to pick at it before finally deciding that she didn't want to eat it anymore.

And then she got to her paws and padded right past Snowpaw, the tip of her tail flicking him in the face.

Snowpaw, feeling slight put down at the utter dismissal, sniffed a little. He decided that he was feeling a bit tired, so he headed to the apprentices' den.

Brightpaw was nowhere to be seen, and the only other cat in there was Hawkpaw.

His loyal friend, Mudpaw, wasn't even at his side like he always was.

What in StarClan was wrong with everyone?

Snowpaw stared at Hawkpaw, who stared right back at him.

Then, the dry, sneering voice broke the silence:

"What's the loser doing in here so early? Got sent in by Wolfstrike? Clearly he's seen firsthand how stupid you-"

"I want to be your friend," Snowpaw cut in. He didn't know why he said it. He had just wanted to sleep, and didn't really expect to see Hawkpaw of all cats in already. Either way, there was no harm in playing the game early.

Hawkpaw gaped at him, before schooling his expression into a smug smirk. "I knew you would come to your senses eventually, Poopaw."

Snowpaw cringed at the name.

And then Hawkpaw got up, roughly bumping into him on the way out, pausing only to whisper: "Don't disappoint me, Poopaw."

And the he was gone, and Snowpaw thought that Hawkpaw didn't mean anything he said.

But Wolfstrike said. He had never lied to Snowpaw, and that was why Snowpaw trusted him implicitly.

. . .

The next day came quick enough, and Snowpaw was a boundless ball of energy that morning. He felt that he could run all the way to the thunder path and back.

It also marked the first official day of Wolfstrike's game.

Snowpaw was excited. He wanted to win, but he doubted that he would. After all, Wolfstrike was bigger and stronger than him, as well as older.

He was a senior warrior for StarClan's sake!

It also marked the first day of his friendship to Hawkpaw.

Wolfstrike had said he needed a partner, so that issue was solved. Now, it was only his father left. Truthfully, Snowpaw wanted to do something crazy, something that would make Duskpool proud of him.

Besides Wolfstrike's attention, gaining the approval of his father was what he wanted the most.

So, after eating, Snowpaw steeled his courage, and approached the small circle of warriors who were seated to the side.

Duskpool was facing Snowpaw, and he was conversing with a pretty dappled she-cat. There were two other warriors there, too, and they all looked up as Snowpaw approached them/

"Uh, F-Duskpool," he corrected, knowing how much his father hated being reminded of the fact that he had kits in public. "Can I talk to you?"

"Oh, is that your son, Duskpool?" the dappled she-cat asked. "He's simply adorable!"

Snowpaw flushed right up to the tips of his ears.

"His name is Snowpaw," Duskpool interjected, looking very embarrassed at the public praising of his son. "His sister is Brightpaw, and she's the medicine cat apprentice." He sounded proud at that fact.

"Does it make him a good father when all he does is sit back and ignore you all day?"

Snowpaw shook away Wolfstrike's voice. He didn't want to hear it, not when he had finally gotten his father to talk to him.

But when he didn't hear Wolfstrike's voice, he heard everyone else's, telling him how perfect and how much better his sister was than him.

But I'm just as good, he would have protested.

But he didn't. Words like that would only bring down Duskpool's disapproval down on him, and Snowpaw didn't want that. Oh, no. He wanted Duskpool to be proud of him.

Wolfstrike was, though. He always acknowledged Snowpaw, even never ignoring him when he was surely annoying him.

But Duskpool wasn't evil.

"What did you need, Snowpaw?" his father asked tiredly.

Not want, but need, Snowpaw noticed.

"Wolfstrike is a really good mentor, Dad!" he blurted out in a rush, ignoring the way that Duskpool winced at the title. "And he's teaching me loads and loads of things! He's really cool!"

"Does it matter?" And once that question was asked, Snowpaw felt crushed.

Did his own father care about him so little that he'd be so uninterested that he would stare awkwardly down at his food the entire time?

It seemed like it.

Snowpaw felt frustrated, then angry, then he was seething, and then it exploded. "Wolfstrike's a better father then you ever were!" he shrieked.

And he turned and fled, ignoring the way that Duskpool's eyes seemed to be burning into him.

. . .

"He hates me, Mum," Snowpaw moaned.

His mother just grimaced apologetically. But her eyes were soft and gentle, just like the rest of her personality.

"What do you mean, Snowpaw?" she murmured. "Your father loves you. You're his only son."

"Oh, is that all?" he mumbled bitterly.

"Snowpaw," his mother sighed. "Duskpool is a very private cat. He doesn't like having that privacy compromised, but I promise you, he was the happiest cat in the world when you and your sister were born. He just has difficulty showing that."

"Yeah, what made you think that?" Snowpaw shot back venomously.

"His position is very important to him. He's going to be leader one day, after all," his mother continued.

"More important than us?" Snowpaw asked desperately. "More important than me?"

"He loves you very much, Snowpaw," she promised.

"Well, he has a hard way showing it," he murmured darkly. "And all because I called him 'Dad' in public."

His mother opened her mouth to speak again, but Snowpaw cut her off. He didn't want to hear anymore.

He'd had enough.

Snowpaw dashed away from his mother, nearly crashing into someone in the process.

He looked up, intending to apologise profusely, when he caught sight of a dark cream coat.

Snowpaw froze, before wrenching his gaze away from Duskpool. He edged away slowly, being mindful of the fact that his father was watching him with wide eyes.

Just as he was about to make a run for it, Duskpool cut in.

"Can I talk to you, Snowpaw?"

Disbelieving blue eyes locked onto Duskpool, who was looking very awkward but pained. Awkward and pain. That was a good combination.

"About what?" he barked.

His voice was harsh, but Duskpool didn't even flinch. Instead stepping toward him with a determined glint in his eyes.

"I heard what you said to Frostfang just then," his father said quietly.

Snowpaw cringed. StarClan no, he didn't want Duskpool hearing that! "Everything?" he asked weakly.

"Everything," the deputy confirmed.

Snowpaw felt like running away then, but he couldn't. "Came to tell me how wrong I am?"

"No," his father soothed. "I came to tell you how wrong I am. It wasn't right to treat you how I did, and I want to apologise."

"Apology accepted," Snowpaw retorted without any bite.

"No," Duskpool denied. "What I did was wrong. I never told you how much I love you, Snowpaw, my only son."

"Mum said you were awkward," he mumbled.

"It's more than that. And, no, I won't tell you what that means. Just know that you have my trust."

Snowpaw was floored. He didn't know whether to be happy that his father had finally told him that he loved him, or disappointed that Duskpool wasn't proud of him.

But Duskpool didn't anything else.

He simply offered a small, tentative smile, before turning the other way and padding off.

. . .

Wolfstrike sneered at the sickening display.

Oh, how he hated Duskpool.

The fool was a coward, and had only gathered up the courage to confront Snowpaw because he had overheard the apprentice speaking with his mother.

But one good thing that came out of it was the fact that Duskpool now trusted Snowpaw.

And by using Snowpaw, Wolfstrike could get into Duskpool's good graces.

And then, everything would be done.

He would win the game and kill Duskpool, and then destroy the rest of this retched Clan.

Snowpaw turned around, a frown puzzling his face, but when he caught sight of Wolfstrike, his entire face lit up, his lips curling into a huge grin.

"Wolfstrike!" he called excitedly.

Wolfstrike would have smirked had the apprentice's eyes not been fixed on his face.

"Snowpaw," he responded, smiling warmly down at him.

"Da- I mean Duskpool, trusts me now!" Snowpaw beamed up at him. "Isn't that great?"

"Magnificent," Wolfstrike answered genuinely.

"And Hawkpaw's my friend, too. So, can we start the game now? Pretty please!"

Wolfstrike chuckled. "Of course, Snowpaw. Stage one begins now."

"What's stage one?"

"We have to get you trained up, of course."

"Ooh, so I'll get really strong?" Snowpaw wanted to know.

Wolfstrike smirked. "Of course. After all, I'll be teaching you everything I know."

Snowpaw grinned.

. . .

Snowpaw was delighted to say that, over the following moons, he did get stronger.

He grew bigger, developed muscles, and even his voice deepened!

And, at eleven moons of age, he was bigger than even Hawkfire, who had only just become a warrior.

His trust in Wolfstrike had deepened, as had his fondness.

It wasn't hard to love his mentor- there was a certain charismatic charm about him that easily drew others in.

Snowpaw was looking forward to becoming a warrior. If he could, then Wolfstrike said that stage one of the game was complete, and he could lord it over later with his mentor.

Besides, he was over eleven moons old! Surely he could become a warrior now, right? Even his sister had received her name: Brightshadow.

He didn't know when, but Wolfstrike had assured him it would happen any day now.

"Snowpaw?" It was Duskpool. Of course. "May I have a word with you?"

Snowpaw nodded. "Sure."

Duskpool smiled faintly, before leading into the clearing where the high rock was.

"Wait here." He indicated for him to wait right next to it and, puzzled, Snowpaw did exactly as he was told.

"Can all cats old enough to catch their own prey, come beneath the high rock for a Clan meeting!" Duskpool boomed.

Everyone looked up from whatever task they were doing and slowly made their way into the clearing. They looked as confused as Snowpaw felt.

Where was Redstar?

Almost as if he could hear the question, Duskpool said, "Redstar is, at the moment, very ill, and has asked me to take over any of her leadership duties as deputy. And, right now, we have an apprentice who very dearly deserves to receive his warrior name."

Snowpaw felt a thrill run through him. It was finally happening!

"I, Duskpool, deputy of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in turn. Snowpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your own life?"

Grinning hugely, Snowpaw said, "I do."

Duskpool smiled faintly. "Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Snowpaw, from this moment on, you shall be known as Snowheart. StarClan honours your courage and spirit and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

Then, he did something that Snowpaw didn't expect. He pressed his muzzle warmly to the top of his head, and Snowpaw, knowing the rest of the ritual, licked his father's shoulder with respect.

Then, he pulled back, and the entire Clan began to cheer his name.

"Snowheart, Snowheart, Snowheart!"

His name was Snowheart now, and he was brave and strong, just like his father, just like Wolfstrike.

. . .

"A fine name," Wolfstrike bit out curtly.

"I won, Wolfstrike," Snowheart announced cheekily.

"Only the first part," his former mentor responded. "Remember, there's two parts left."

"And what are they?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Wolfstrike said vaguely.

Snowheart grinned. He had always loved that about Wolfstrike, loved how he was able to be so mysterious and yet straight forward at the same time.

"Good enough for me."

. . .

"You can do it now," Wolfstrike informed him. "I've already taken care of the first part."

"What do I do?"

"I want you to take Hawkfire out, have a fight maybe, release all of your pent-up frustration, play around with him a little afterward. And, by the time you come back, the third stage will be progressing."

Play with his Clanmate? Snowheart scowled. "I'm not a kit anymore, Wolfstrike!" he cried.

"No, you're a big, strong warrior with moons of wisdom," Wolfstrike shot back dryly, coldly amused.

Ah, so Wolfstrike was in a bad mood again. Snowheart had gotten used to his hot and cold behaviour over the past few moons, and by now, it wasn't anything unfamiliar.

It still unnerved him, though.

Especially when Snowheart was at the brink of winning their little game he had worked so hard for when he first became an apprentice.

But still, playing with Hawkfire? He wasn't a kit for StarClan's sake!

"What makes you think that Hawkfire will 'play' with me?" Snowheart inquired, smug about the nature of his question.

"You were never this difficult when you were still an apprentice," Wolfstrike snapped, and Snowheart flinched at the venom in his voice.

"What's up with you?" he demanded. "You've been acting very strange lately."

"The game will be completed soon," his former mentor murmured, sounding oddly strained. But then, his face smoothed out and his eyes glared down at Snowheart. "Just go."

Snowheart hesitated. "But…"

"Go," Wolfstrike snapped. "Go, go, go."

Snowheart didn't need any more encouragement after that. With one final parting look to his former mentor, he sniffed nearly imperiously and made his way over to the fresh-kill pile.

Besides the warriors' den, Hawkfire's favourite place to hang around was where he could badger others for food.

And he was there alright.

As Snowheart approached his 'friend', he wondered how he had ever been afraid of Hawkfire. He was much bigger than his nemesis, who seemed tiny in comparison to him.

Hawkfire's eyes glittered oddly as he caught sight of Snowheart.

There seemed to be no animosity between, but that was only for the casual viewer. It went much deeper than that.

He and Hawkfire were far from friends, even though Hawkfire believed otherwise.

"Hawkfire," he called.

The dark-brown tom turned around at once, but when he saw who it was, his eyes darkened to a dark shade of amber.

"If it isn't Poopaw," he drawled.

Snowheart scowled. "Don't call me that!" he snapped.

Hawkfire made a sound of surprise. "I suppose it's Pooheart now, right?" He laughed at Snowheart's confused look. "Oh, I was there, Pooheart. I heard your daddy give you that name. Courage and spirit? Psh. As if. You're still as much of a coward as you were when you were an apprentice, hiding behind Wolfstrike like that. As if he would protect you. He hates you."

"Wolfstrike hating me?" Snowheart laughed. "Hawkfire, you really need to sort out your priorities. I'm not a kit anymore, remember?"

Hawkfire stared back at him. "The only difference is that you've grown uglier. You'll never get a mate at this rate."

Snowheart scoffed. "Does it look like I want one?"

The other cat merely sneered in response. "What did you want anyway, Pooheart?"

So used to the name calling, Snowheart didn't even react to it, didn't react to Hawkfire's goading. "Why don't we play a game, Hawkfire?"

Hawkfire's expression remained flat. "No, Pooheart. I've got better things to do than play around with scum like you."

Snowheart feigned a hurt look. "I thought we were friends, Hawkfire."

His 'friend' scoffed. "As if. You didn't mean it back then and you don't meant it now."

It was really annoying, Snowheart mused, when someone could see right through you.

So he had to do something drastic if he wanted to win the game. Snowheart knew that the only thing he would get for winning would be the immense satisfaction of beating Wolfstrike at something, no matter how much he loved the cat.

"Of course I didn't," Snowheart cried. "Why would I? I hated you then, Hawkfire, and I hate you now. You've got nothing going for you if all you're going to do is bully me all day! No wonder you don't have a mate! You do evil things and think evil thoughts, Hawkfire!"

Hawkfire straightened himself up, as if trying to appear larger than Snowheart, who was already bigger than him.

"I'm not evil, Pooheart!" he spat. "You just infuriate me with your little nice act, strutting around camp as if you own it just because your dad is the deputy! You're not special! You're stupid and dumb, and you can't even fight your own battles!"

"Well, I'm fighting now," Snowheart retorted calmly, even though he felt like doing something unthinkable to the cat in front of him.

Stay calm, he thought to himself, and think happy thoughts. None of that evil stuff that Hawkfire thinks about.

Snowheart once thought that cats could change- after he'd grown a little in maturity, of course- but it was all just a big fat lie.

In all his moons of knowing Hawkfire, the tom hadn't changed a bit. He still remained the same condescending jerk that he'd always been.

"Let's take care of this outside," Hawkfire growled, looking around him frantically, as if to catch perpetrators staring at them. "Away from prying eyes."

"Let's," Snowpaw agreed.

Well, Snowheart thought darkly, Wolfstrike had wanted a fight, so he'd get one.

. . .

They had retreated to the sandy hollow, and thankfully, there was no one inside it. No wayward apprentices, no mentors, no nothing.

It was the perfect place for a fight.

Snowheart was itching to pound Hawkfire into the ground with all of the moves that Wolfstrike had taught him.

And with no other cats around, no one would hear them.

He faced Hawkfire, who had a smug smirk twisting his lips.

"I'm going to teach you a little lesson in respect, Pooheart," the dark-brown tom growled. The black markings on his face served to make him look menacing. Menacing, but not evil.

"And what's that going to be?" Snowheart shot back.

"A little lesson in showing you who your betters are," Hawkfire retorted, before lunging.

"I'd like to see you try," Snowheart snapped as he swerved to the side to avoid the swipe.

He skidded along the ground for a second before righting himself and looking over his shoulder.

Hawkfire stared at him for only a second, before he was onto him, bringing his paw down onto Snowheart's head.

Snowheart growled in annoyance as the attack made contact with his head, and dodged the second one. He lunged at Hawkfire, knocking him to the ground and taking his scruff into his teeth.

He shook the cat violently, releasing moons of pent up frustration.

What started out as a soft yowl quickly morphed into a full-blown shriek, and it continued even after Snowheart had dropped Hawkfire.

Panting, Hawkfire shakily pulled himself to his feet. He looked dazed, his eyes going cross-eyed.

"I'm… going to… kill you… Pooheart," he snarled. He took a step forward, only to stumble.

"I think you've learned your lesson, right, Hawkfire?" Snowheart prodded. He didn't believe in attacking cars after they were down, and it was clear that he was stronger than his old 'friend'.

"Never." And then he was up and flying straight toward him.

Snowheart felt his heart skip a beat, felt his limbs freeze up, and then he was knocked down.

His head spinning, Snowheart struggle to pull himself up, but a sudden weight on his body forced him back down.

He looked up to see Hawkfire, his face inches from his own and his eyes wild and his lips pulled back to reveal rows upon rows of gleaming sharp teeth.

Snowheart panicked. He realised that Hawkfire had been serious in wanting to kill him, and so his paw swerved up like a white flash, catching the other cat in the jaw and knocking him to the side.

Snowheart slumped to the ground as the huge weight left him, exhaustion pooling in every pore of his body.

Hawkfire didn't get back up again.

But Snowheart was too tired to care, and darkness took him before he could do anything about it.

. . .

When he woke up, his mouth was incredibly dry and filled to the brim with dust.

Snowheart gasped loudly and pulled himself to his feet, glancing around him frantically.

He saw a mass of brown fur only a tail length from him, and he wondered, very distantly, why Hawkfire hadn't killed him even though he had promised to.

Feeling haggard, Snowheart staggered over to Hawkfire, and pawed at him, turning him over.

"Hawkfire?" No response. Snowheart tried harder. "Hawkfire, can you hear me?"

Hawkfire didn't reply, and Snowheart felt his insides turn to ice. The other cat's eyes looked glassy and faded, as if he were staring into the distance but didn't realise it.

Snowheart shook him harder. "Hawkfire?!" A line of blood rolled from between Hawkfire's lips, snaking its way and down his chin and disappearing into his fur.

Horrified, Snowheart jerked away from Hawkfire, and stared down at the body, as if truly seeing Hawkfire for the first time.

He was dead.

Snowheart had never seen a dead cat before. Oh, sure, he killed animals every day, but that was different. He ate them. This was a fellow Clanmate.

And Snowheart had killed him.

Feeling sick to his stomach, he prayed to StarClan, to whoever was listening to him right now that he didn't mean to do it.

It had been an accident. He had gotten so caught up in his anger, his hurt, that he had killed his Clanmate.

And now that he thought about it, he had never truly hated Hawkfire.

Wolfstrike was right in saying that cats could change.

But it had never been Hawkfire who had changed. No, it had been Snowheart.

He had grown up over the past few moons. He was more mature, and he liked to think that he'd gained wisdom.

"I want you to take Hawkfire out, have a fight maybe, release all of your pent-up frustration, play around with him a little afterward."

Hawkfire had never been the evil one.

No, he had acted like it. But that was just the role of a bully. A jerk Hawkfire may be, but Snowheart didn't think that he could actually kill. Actually commit murder.

Snowheart had been wrong.

Hawkfire was never evil. He had been driven by jealousy, just like Snowheart had been, over his own adoration of his father.

No. Hawkfire had been innocent, and Snowheart had killed him. And for what? A few insults and threats that a few moons of maturity could fix?

He felt horrible. Defeated, you name it.

There had been so many problems in his life over the past few moons: his father actually loved him, Hawkfire wasn't really evil, and the list could keep going on.

Who had suggested everything in the first place?

Wolfstrike.

It felt horrible to accuse his former mentor of such an atrocity, because he was usually so kind-hearted and loyal to a fault. But he had been acting strangely for the past moon, and he was the one to suggest such a game.

"StarClan, what's wrong with me?" Snowheart moaned.

He glanced down at Hawkfire. The cat would have to wait, he had to warn his father about Wolfstrike.

He sprinted back to ThunderClan.

. . .

"Wolfstrike will be the new ThunderClan deputy!"

Wolfstrike smirked in satisfaction.

It had finally happened. He was finally the deputy, and for once, Duskpool had seen sense and relented, making Wolfstrike, who was, after him, the most experienced cat, deputy.

His little game had been fruitful.

Firstly, his little apprentice had resolved his petty differences to his father, which, in turn, had made Duskpool trust him. And, in turn, it had endeared Wolfstrike to Duskpool.

The second stage worked like a charm.

Redstar was so old that she couldn't tell the difference between death berries and normal ones, and by the time the pesky medicine cat had gotten to her, she was already dead.

Then, while Snowheart had been off completing his part of their game, Wolfstrike had persuaded Duskpool, now Duskstar, to make him deputy.

Everything had worked out in the end.

But, as always, something had to happen to destroy whatever happiness Wolfstrike had procured.

The majority of the Clan suddenly gasped, and they parted to reveal his wayward apprentice.

Snowheart came to a stop in front of the high rock, his snowy fur ruffled and his eyes wild. They held a manic glint to them, and a small patch of red gleamed dully on his head.

"Da- Father," he panted. "I… need to… speak with you."

"Of what?" Duskstar demanded, looking fairly awkward. "Snowheart, in case you haven't noticed, I just announced the name of my deputy."

Snowheart blinked owlishly. "W-What? You're leader?"

Duskstar pursed his lips. "Of course. Redstar passed into StarClan only a few hours ago. You would have known had you been in camp."

The newly minted warrior scowled. "Who's your deputy then?"

"Me," Wolfstrike answered lazily.

Snowheart's entire body tensed, before he barked, "Father, you can't trust him!"

To say that Wolfstrike was surprised was an understatement. So, the kit had figured out his game, had he?

No matter, he would be disposed of soon enough. Right after he killed Duskstar, in fact.

"And why is that, Snowheart?" Duskstar demanded in short, clipped tones.

"Because- he- he did-…" Snowheart broke off, clearly unable to think of any legitimate excuses.

This made Wolfstrike coldly amused. It garnered him so much amusement whenever Snowheart came to a loss of words. It rarely happened, of course, since his apprentice was very mouthy and always with a retort up his sleeve.

But Snowheart was impulsive. He rushed to do things before questioning them.

And as he was in such disarray, Wolfstrike came to the conclusion that he had killed Hawkfire. It was the only thing he could think of that would have made Snowheart so wild and skittish.

Hawkfire had been such a jealous cat, and Snowheart no better. But Hawkfire was gone now, and so would the rest of this retched Clan soon enough.

He relish it when he finally killed Duskstar.

And so, Wolfstrike made his decision.

"I believe I know what the problem is, Duskstar," he called out.

The dark cream cat turned his head, piercing him with those pesky blue eyes of his- the same blue eyes that Snowheart had inherited- and said, "What?"

"Have you noticed any other cat other than Snowheart who went missing?" Wolfstrike responded silkily.

Duskstar's eyes narrowed. "Do enlighten me, Wolfstrike."

"Hawkfire," he said clearly. "Hawkfire is missing, and my dear Snowheart was the one to kill him."

ThunderClan gasped in unison.

Duskstar remained unruffled though, and he pierced his only son with intent blue eyes. "And is what Wolfstrike saying true, Snowheart?"

"No… yes," Snowheart spat heatedly. His lip quivered, his eyes moving frantically in their sockets. "I did kill him. But it was an accident, I swear! Wolfstrike made me do it! He orchestrated all of it! Killing Redstar, making me kill Hawkfire, and now he's going to finish the job, Dad. You need to stop him-"

"Enough," Duskstar said quietly, and that small word was enough to make Snowheart cower.

"You come running back into camp and accuse my deputy of scheming to destroy the Clan he has worked so hard to protect?" he demanded in an eerily calm voice. "You know nothing."

"I know more than you, Dad," Snowheart near-shrieked. "We were playing a game, Dad, a game! He trained me, he made me trust him! And I did, whole-heartedly! He saved me from Hawkfire when I was a kit, he was my role model! And when we started playing this game, I wanted to finally beat him at something. And it was only when I k-killed Hawkfire that I finally realised what a dangerous game I've been playing. So listen to me, Dad. Wolfstrike killed Redstar, he wanted me out of the way, so he made me kill Hawkfire, and now he's going to kill you."

"Enough," Duskstar hissed. He crouched low on the high rock, peering down at Snowheart through narrowed eyes. "You killed your own Clanmate, and now you're accusing my deputy?!"

"But, Dad," Snowheart protested. "He really did do-"

"You are no son of mine," Duskstar continued. "You no longer hold my trust, and you are hereby exiled from ThunderClan."

There was a heavy silence, and then Snowheart said, his voice inflectionless of feeling:

"Okay."

That one word sealed everything, and Wolfstrike was, once again, coldly amused.

Everything would end tonight.

He would kill Duskstar, and ThunderClan's destruction would begin.

. . .

Snowheart stared up into the distance, not really comprehending the beautiful splash of colours in the sky.

He felt… empty.

His father had disowned him in front of ThunderClan, but that wasn't what hurt the most. No, besides his father's lack of trust and faith in him, it was Wolfstrike's that hurt the most.

The cat who was supposed to trust in him and guide him, had betrayed him in the worst way.

He had pretended. Everything was a farce, and Snowheart had to wonder over all the times he had begged for the elder cat's attention.

Wolfstrike would have surely thought him a nuisance even back then, had probably thought him not worth his time. And Snowheart remembered the 'game' with a sinking heart. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been to think that everything was a game.

He was wrong.

Life was not a game.

It was serious, and you only got one shot at it.

Snowheart had nearly wasted his by believing every pretty word that had come out of that cat's mouth.

But he had trusted Wolfstrike. He had trusted and loved Wolfstrike like a father. And Wolfstrike had thrown all of that back in his face.

As had Duskstar.

But Wolfstrike had had an ulterior motive, and Duskstar hadn't.

Duskstar only believed Wolfstrike over him because Wolfstrike was a model warrior. He had never done anything wrong to knowledge, never murdered for one. But that made it even worse because Snowheart had murdered.

And now he'd been exiled from ThunderClan, the only home he'd ever known.

Snowheart thought about leaving ThunderClan to its fate. They'd put up a good fight, he was sure, but would probably be dead come morning.

Snowheart didn't want that, though.

His entire family- his father, sister, and mother- was back in ThunderClan, and he'd be damned before he saw them dead at Wolfstrike's paws.

Wolfstrike was a monster, and Snowheart had been too late to see that.

But Snowheart wasn't about to become one himself.

. . .

As Snowheart lumbered back into camp, he found it eerily silent.

He also found it strange that no one was on guard duty. Surely he'd be attacked right about now, right? Especially since he'd been publically exiled.

It was barely dark, and yet there were no giggling kits running around camp and causing trouble to the warriors like they usually did.

There were no playful apprentices.

There was no Wolfstrike.

Snowheart sprinted through the camp, and strangely, he felt eyes on him, as if someone were watching him.

But he shrugged it off, instead heading toward the leader's den.

Duskstar might be there, and Snowheart could warn him again.

Fat load of good that was the first time, he thought bitterly.

But he pushed himself and arrived there only seconds later.

Snowheart poked his head inside and felt his blood run cold.

"… brought this onto yourself, Duskstar," Wolfstrike murmured silkily. "Goodbye."

The bigger cat had his father pinned to the ground, his claws latched firmly onto the leader's neck. Thin rivulets of blood ran down Duskstar's neck from puncture wounds, staining his dark cream fur red.

And Snowheart saw red.

He didn't even think.

He flew forward and knocked Wolfstrike from his father's prone body, his rage becoming even worse when he noticed Duskstar's glassy eyes.

"Father!" he yowled.

Snowheart couldn't see anything but Wolfstrike. He swiped down at whatever he could, his claws unsheathed.

And then he was knocked brutally to the side.

Wolfstrike leaned above him, blood dripping from his paws and his fur sticking up at odd angles.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Snowheart," he purred dangerously.

Snowheart growled and swiped up, scoring his claws in Wolfstrike's face.

His former mentor cried out in surprise, and Snowheart used that to his advantage, pulling himself up and flying straight at him.

Wolfstrike swerved to avoid his paw, but Snowheart kicked out with his back legs, catching the other cat in the chest.

The attack landed with a soft 'oomph' from Wolfstrike, and he stumbled back a few steps.

Snowheart panted heavily, glaring over at the cat who had caused so much pain to him.

His heart twisted at the thought of killing him, because he still held a fondness for him, despite the love having been replaced by hate.

Maybe Wolfstrike could just leave, leave and never come back-

Wolfstrike lunged at him, and Snowheart knew that the mistake of not staying vigilant had cost him.

Snowheart could hear his former mentor's heavy breathing, and his own, too. He smelled the stench of blood on Wolfstrike's breath, felt the pain as ragged sharpness sank into his neck-

Everything exploded.

Snowheart dimly felt himself slump to the ground, and his vision went red.

Wolfstrike was suddenly knocked to the ground, and Duskstar repeatedly bit and clawed at him, until he finally stopped screaming and went limp.

And then he was bounding over to Snowheart, who stared up at him, feeling vacant.

"Da… d…" he rasped through a bubble of blood.

"Shh," Duskstar soothed. "You'll be alright. Brightshadow will fix you up, you'll see."

His vision was turning black at the edges.

"Dad… love… you…"

"I know," his father murmured. "And I'm so proud of you, Snowheart. You were right about everything, and I was a fool not to believe you. Wolfstrike was rotten to the core. I was wrong to trust him over you, my only son, my kit."

He couldn't move. All feeling had left his limbs, leaving him feeling sluggish, and he had to force out his words through his unmoving tongue. "… for… give… you…"

His eyes closed.