I am Your Uncle [CLOSED]

Things weren't going so well for Pigeonpaw.

Pigeonkit. "Son". Storm. Pigeonpaw, he didn't know what his name was anymore. He didn't care. His life was a series of broken promises and hardship. He had ran away from Windclan (at least, he was told) when he was mad he didn't get to be an apprentice. He fell down the Gorge, where he was rescued by the loners Bat and Pepper. He lived happily for some time, until Bear came and demanded that they join him in his quest to conquer the clans or Pigeonpaw would die. He lived in terror in that time. Luckily that ended soon when Bear died in the Barn Battle.

The battle where he saw his brother, Hollowfang.

He had never remembered Hollowfang thanks to his amnesia. But since that moment he had constantly yearned to see his brother again. Finally he left the Barn to find him in the Clans, only to be attacked by that foul foxheart Rockthorn.

The scars from that battle hung down from the gray tom as he stared down at the moor.

He looked like an abomination. Ears folded and tattered. Pelt riddled with painful scars from the Mist. An adult body only the size of a kit. A deep setting scar still impaled with rock shards crossing the back of his head. And the worst part- a broken, dangling, and furless jaw painfully dislocated. His left lip was completely torn off which gave him a resemblance to the retched cat who gave him that.

And this abomination stared on with ghostly yellow orbs over the gray moor. He missed the battle that occurred recently and hated himself for that. He wanted to prove to Ashstar that he can make it on to being a warrior. He could have won that battle for the clan. He could have been a hero and gotten his warrior name. But he still was a outcast from his own clan.

As he was sulking over what he had done wrong in life, a scuttle from behind him caught his attention. For a moment he was in shock. The smell of the cat reaching him seemed so much like Hollowfang, that same earthy tone. He couldn't believe it. Hollowfang was dead by the time he came back home, he was told. "...H-Hollowfung?" he tentatively called out. It was ridiculous to do so, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to see his littermate again. He slowly turned his aching neck around and looked for the newcomer. It was too foggy this morning to see much past, but he could see the silhouette in the shadows. Maybe it was Hollowfang. Maybe he would be happy again.