Here's in the second installment of Fate and Destiny! Thank you to my reviewers! :)
Disclaimer: If I owned Warriors, Brambleclaw wouldn't have left Squirrelflight at the end of Sunrise.
Claimer: I do own Blackjaw though.
Chapter 2
Crowfeather journeyed into the moors where he and Leafpool had run away together. He lashed his tail at the memories, as if swishing them away. That was then, this is now, he told himself. The former WindClanner padded on and on until his paws seemed to made of stone and he was weaving side to side as he walked.
The dark gray tom trudged into a cool, shady hole after checking and finding no scents. He snuggled onto the smooth ground and curled his long tail around himself as his sky-blue eyes fluttered shut.
Crowfeather woke up as sharp fangs nit into his scruff and dragged him out of where he was resting. The assailant tossed him a fox-length away, leaving the sleepy, heavy-limbed warrior on his side.
"You are in Blackjaw's home!" snarled the white cat with a long, black muzzle.
The snarl shook away all if Crowfeather's grogginess. This loner was no scrawny, any-day-could-be-his-last cat. No, this tom was a mean-looking, massive, battle-scarred rogue. His lip was curled back in a menacing snarl, his tinted fangs showings, and his dark amber eyes glinting hatefully.
Crowfeather hauled himself hastily to his paws and growled, "I was just passing through."
"These moors belong to Blackjaw!" the bigger tom growled back, taking a threatening step toward the smaller cat.
The WindClan-blooded tom did what he had to do—run. He turned and sprinted away, his paws beating against the rough moor, his long tail streaming behind him. With chagrin, he noticed Blackjaw was racing after him.
"Turn and fight me, little kittypet!" yowled Blackjaw.
WindClan runs, but WindClan fights too, Mudclaw had told Crowfeather when he'd been Crowpaw.
Crowfeather stopped hard and whipped around to face his pursuer, the dark light of battle in his eyes, his nearly black fur fluffed out so he looked twice his size.
"I'm no kittypet!" he snarled fiercely.
With a battle cry, the dark gray warrior lunged for Blackjaw, lashing out with his right paw, claws extended. He caught the hefty rogue in the ear, tearing a V-shaped nick into it. Claret blood flowed down the Blackjaw's otherwise white face.
Blackjaw retaliated quickly, tackling Crowfeather to the ground, smashing Crowfeather's muzzle into the dirt. He bit into the warrior's shoulder as he dug his claws into the smaller cat's forelegs and flanks. Blood bathed his tongue, clotted around his thorn-sharp claws. Crowfeather rolled with an agonized cry, lying on top of the tom before leaping out of the Blackjaw's grasp.
Crowfeather seemingly danced around the massive white rogue, avoiding blows then moving in to scratch, nip score. Blackjaw quickly became confused as the sunset gave to night and his opponent became nothing more than an attacking shadow, with light blue eyes that glittered with mockery and contempt as he crowed insults.
The battle ended with Crowfeather pinning Blackjaw down. One unsheathed paw rested on the bigger cat's stomach, the other on his neck, the claws pinpricking his exposed throat. Crowfeather had half a mind to slice open the rogue's neck, teach him not mess with a warrior like him and send a message to any other rogues around here. But with a sigh, he sheathed his claws and backed away.
"A warrior doesn't have to kill to win his battles," he murmured.
Crowfeather bounded away into the night, not sure which direction he was heading. He just let his paws guide him, and he trusted his instinct that they'd carry him to a safer place. The smoky-furred tom passed out beside a stream, blood seeping from his wounds and sticking his fur together in clumps. The scent of multiple cats was blasted to him, but he couldn't distinguish the scents from one another before everything went dark.
Crowfeather started away and instantly panicked. Where was he, where was he? The smells of a hundred different herbs overpowered his senses and he realized he was in a medicine cat's den. But he knew he wasn't in WindClan—he would've recognized the scent of Kestrelflight quicker. He sniffed and smelled the ThunderClan medicine cat, Jayfeather, near him.
Of course I'm in ThunderClan… where else would I be? Crowfeather thought sarcastically.
He turned his head toward the blind medicine cat. Jayfeather was making a poultice for one of the WindClan warrior's wounds.
"Why am I here?" Crowfeather asked the gray tabby tom.
Jayfeather looked up from his work, his blind eyes seemingly meeting Crowfeather's identical ones. "You're injured."
"I meant ThunderClan," snapped Crowfeather with an annoyed sweep of his tail.
"A patrol found you on our border. You're lucky Firestar was kind enough to take you in instead of leaving you there, bleeding for your Clan to find you," Jayfeather replied, his tone even with his father's. "Or should I say, former Clan."
Crowfeather stiffened and demanded, "How did you know that?"
"There was a Gathering last night, and Onestar announced it," the young tom answered calmly.
Crowfeather looked at his paws awkwardly.
Leafpool padded into the den.
"Jayfeather, do you need any help with—?" Leafpool stopped mid-sentence as her amber eyes fell upon the dark gray tom lying in the medicine cat's den.
Leafpool had been told there was a WindClan cat in the medicine cat's den but she didn't know it was exiled Crowfeather! He still smelled WindClan, the same musky scent she loved….
NO! she told herself harshly. Move on.
"No, Leafpool, I don't need your help. I can handle this just fine, thanks," Jayfeather replied, his tone a little frosty.
The medicine cat could feel Leafpool's mixed emotions of longing and pain and joy at seeing the former love of her life. He didn't want to be around Leafpool anymore, let alone feel what she felt. He wanted her out of his den, for the good of them all.
Jayfeather felt and Crowfeather saw Leafpool wince at Jayfeather's tone. The young medicine cat tom would have apologized, but he didn't feel sorry. Leafpool simply bowed her head and padded soundlessly out of the den.
"Got issues with your mother?" Crowfeather asked, watching Leafpool go.
Jayfeather's eyes snapped to Crowfeather's face, a surprising content of loathing and anger in his bright blue eyes. "She is no mother of mine," he spat.
Crowfeather backed off. He's got my temper all right, he thought to himself.
After a long silence, Jayfeather straightened up.
"Your wounds aren't that bad but to avoid re-opening and infection, I'll keep you here for a quarter moon," Jayfeather informed him. "Then you must leave."
The former WindClan tom simply nodded. But part of the warrior didn't want to leave, for multiple reasons. One was never seeing his Clanmates again, no matter how he felt for them, he'd always think of himself as one of them. Another was that he didn't want to end up like Blackjaw; just be some battle-hungry rogue with no proper way of life. The final being… well, where could he go from here?
His Clan wouldn't take him back. He refused to become some fat, lazy kittypet as if he'd never been a warrior. He couldn't go back to the moors again, for Blackjaw might kill him.
Where could former WindClan warrior Crowfeather go from here?
A/N: So whatcha think? I would appreciate reviews and flames will be used to make chocolate syrup (hold an inflammable box of unmelted chocolate over them).