Bittersweet Revenge:
(Birchstorm's P.O.V.)
Every cat is unique, they say. Every cat looks different, acts different, just is different. Every single one of us. There are no two tortoiseshells with the same patches, no tabbies with the same stripes, no solid pelts with the same shade and same fur length and none of us are exactly the same height. Each and every cat has similarities, but in the end, none are ever exactly alike.
I wish that was true. I really do.
It's hard being me. I'm punished, in bad times even beaten, all for things I didn't do. And I can say so, I can tell the truth, I can tell them to check the scents and check the leftover clumps of fur, check everything, but it won't do any good.
Because we're exactly, completely alike, except for one thing.
He plays pranks. bad pranks.
And I don't.
(Lionheart's P.O.V.)
In a world where bad things can happen all the time, and half the time I'm the cause of those bad things... I'm pretty used to surprises and seeing other cats in states or surprise and shock, and even anger. I've seen a lot of anger. It comes from my twin brother to me, it comes from cats to my twin brother. I think all the anger in the clan seems to circulate back to him.
Heh, I guess all the anger is my fault, but if I'm not punished, then why should I stop? It's fun, it's entertaining, it's something to do in all my free time. Okay, okay, I don't like how much they blame my brother and punish him, but it makes him a stronger and more devoted warrior in the end. That's what punishment does, after all.
A tortoiseshell she-cat calls out to me and I grimace. About 'in all my free time'... I, quite honestly, don't have much free time. Being as I'm one of the most popular cats in the clan, there's always some tom trying to be friend or some she-cat wanting to catch my attention. At first, it was pretty annoying, but it didn't take too long at all for me to get used to it. I am a social cat, after all!
"Hey, Dappleleaf," I answer the she-cat, trying to sound a little brighter towards her then I was actually feeling- I didn't like ruining other cats days, even if I was in a perfectly terrible mood. I wasn't feeling terrible right now, but my mood certainly wasn't great.
"Hi," she smiles in return, amber eyes blinking gently. "I wanted to go hunting, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me, so..." The tortoiseshell warrior's voice trailed off.
I studied Dappleleaf for a quick heartbeat, from her eyes to her slightly swishing tail, before nodding slightly. "I'll get the rest of our patrol and tell Snowtail," I added as she visibly brightened and purred. "After all, you don't want our deputy wondering where a patrol full of his cats have disappeared to." She seems to deflate a teensy bit but recovers quickly, blinking her amber eyes again and nodding in response.
Waving my tail to Dappleleaf, I survey the clearing and yowl out, "Snowtail, we're going hunting! Bramblefrost, Sparkflight, Dewclaw, want to come with us?"
Bramblefrost and his mate, Sparkflight, look up from where they were sharing a squirrel. The young couple exchange a glance and Sparkflight shrugs, and so the duo stand up and trot over to join Dappleleaf and I. Dewclaw was eager to join us, being as he fancied Dappleleaf (the major reason why I invited him, if I could get Dappleleaf to fall for Dewclaw that would make things easier for myself).
The five of us slipped into the forest.
I had a familiar scent on the tip of my tongue when I sniffed the for prey. A very familiar scent, just like my own, but just, in the smallest bit different, a difference only two cats could identify. My brother, and I.
(Birchstorm's P.O.V.)
I leap out of the bushes and knock my brother to the ground.
"What are you doing here?" I ask incredulously. Here I had been, in my little secret haven where I could get away from all my troubles, and then the very reason behind everything that's wrong with my life just shows up!
Lionheart growls and leaps to his feet. "What are you doing here?"
I stiffen. "I was taking a walk," I hiss. "And you?"
"Hunting for the clan, unlike you. Too bad you never help ThunderClan out," my light brown tabby brother answers with his familiar voice. I'm used to these sort of remarks from him, and I've stopped commenting back long ago, but the reason why we started our argument simply makes me fire up instead.
"How do you help the clan by pranking it?"
"I prepared the Clan for surprises," Lionheart sneers. "Also, I'm toughening you up, brother."
I pause instead of responding, because, in a sudden moment of fury mixed with clarity, I see an opportunity. This brother of mine, he and I are alone in the forest in a secluded spot, one that I used to be the only one who knew of it until this very day. I know I'm just as strong as him, if not stronger (perhaps, though I would never admit it, countless moons of gathering moss or doing hard, unlikable chores might have actually done me some physical good) and I'm a good fighter, too. I know Lionheart will never stop pranking- it's in his blood -but maybe I could, well, stop him from getting me in trouble ever again.
Making a moment's decision, I bare my fangs and leap for Lionheart, clamping my jaws around my shocked brothers' throat. Then, I step back and let him fall to the ground.
In a last struggle, the light brown tabby tom flashed out his claws and he rakes a deep scratch across my chest. With a last, gurgling breath, he dropped into a state of limpness and I knew, with a somewhat sinking feeling, that he was dead.
I pad sullenly into camp, my mind swirling but my body being too tired to deal with the thoughts that swarmed my head. Immediately, I hear a cat call out, "Hey, Lionheart! Why didn't you bring back any prey?"
I'm used to being confused with my brother, and normally I snap back saying who I actually am, but in my mood... I don't. I simply shake my head.
Another cat trots over and nudges me. Graystorm, Lionheart's best friend. "Hey, Lion, what's wrong?" he asks me, blue eyes round with concern. "Where did that scratch come from?" I don't respond and he frowns, stepping back as I walk past him into the warrior's den, where I am about to collapse into my own nest when I remember how I killed Lionheart, and I instead plop into his nest, savoring his scent.
The moons fly past me, rapid but painful... I've grown to accept who I am. A murderer. An identity stealer.
I'm not a prank-pulling cat.
I'm something worse.
When I eventually told the Clan my story about Lionheart's death, I told them it was Birchstorm. I'd grown to love being so popular, being so loved compared to my old self in such short time that I said that I, Birchstorm, had attacked my new self, Lionheart, and that I had been forced to kill him.
Everyone believed me, of course. After all, it sounded just like a thing that stupid Birchstorm would do.
And here I am.
In a life that's perfect, where I'm happier then I've ever been... All because I killed and became a cat who shared my blood. My brother.