Shadows, Give Me Silence {closed}

A thunderclap, a rumble. Flintfang rolled in his nest, throwing his paws over his eyes and wincing. The storm. Desire. It had found him once more, snuck into his head while he yearned for sleep. He would protect his fragile mind if he could, but StarClan had not graced him with that power. The gray tabby sat exposed, naked in his nest of moss. Emotions breached his walls and tore at his fur. It was tears first. He swiped the moisture from his eyes with a quick paw, the night sky judging his kit-like state. Next was anger, like a ghost at moonhigh. He tore at his bedding, a silent claw tracing divots in the dirt while his clanmates slept. And finally, hope. This was the worst of the demons to sneak into his headspace. A scoundrel like himself was too logical to believe in such a thing, it was just a tale for queens to tell their children. But the sweet, soft form of hope spun stories of Littlesun in his nerves. He smelled her scent, touched her fur. Green eyes clipped at the edge of his vision. The desire was strong, but Flintfang had only ever asked for silence. Burntstag had promised it to him first, an outlet for the storm in his mind, and Flintfang fell in love with the idea, and by extension, Burntstag's sister.

That is what he wanted to tell himself, that his love for Littlesun was only a shred of his love for silence. But the gray tabby could look into her green eyes and see hope. It was not his plan, nor did he want to pursue it, but perhaps the light was pursuing him. The warrior code was a flawed thing, dirty in its ways. But the laws had not torn away all paths to redemption. The road to change was simple, a journey over trees and divots, a duck under a tunnel, and a game of conversation with a leader. ShadowClan. There lay his desires. Burntstag sat in camp with his intelligent mind. Flintfang's friend. Littlesun would be dancing under the stars, holes in the black void lighting her coat silver. There was a purpose there, an escape from the mundane. Flintfang was valued there, at least by some. His claws would lead to justice, and his silver tongue would bring revolution.

Burntstag specifically seemed to carry more hope with him than any cat Flintfang had ever meant. The gray tabby was not one to believe in things, having been scarred by disappointment before, but the broad calico tom was different. It scared Flintfang, terrifyed him, when he found Burntstag as a cat he could put faith in. And the gray tabby knew without a doubt that he would follow him until the very end. With him, Flintfang had silence, and outlet for the storm in his head. But Littlesun, she was unexpected. She brought with her no calm, no rest, but a strong flames of desire. It made the warrior want to buck and fight for her, a feeling he had never possessed before. The two were beautifully infatuating, and it felt good to fall so heavily into a cause. It tore Flintfang's mind from the more permant things of this forest. Mosspaw. His daughter.

Flintfang found that he loved the small calico she-cat. He was there for her ceremony, watched as she was named Medicine Cat Apprentice of ThunderClan. He was proud, even offered her a smile. It was strange, the way she believed in him so whole-heartedly. He would often awaken to find her blue-green eyes staring up at him, filled with hope. There it was again. Hope. Mosspaw had hope, perhaps it was what made her so happy. Flintfang didn't know if he deserved happiness. After watching Chervilpaw die, he decided that happiness was too rare of a thing to spend his life pursuing. It was almost superficial, bound to disappear with the next gust of wind.

Maybe that was why the tom treasured Mosspaw so. She was an embodiment of the fleeting emotion, constant, and loving. He would break her one day, tear out her heart and mash it into the ground. Flintfang knew that for a fact. Logical, wounded cats like him did not belong around the innocent. It was a feeble excuse, but an excuse all the same. The warrior prayed it would be strong enough to allow his conscious passage out of ThunderClan camp. If he took a second thought, he would surely go back for the calico. Perhaps he should say goodbye. But Leopardstar was bound to get involved. Flintfang would rather eat foxdung than explain himself to that entitled golden tom. He would feel guilty forever. Leaving Mosspaw as he did. But the action was done. A step out of camp was easier than the breeze. The night seemed to engulf him, wrap him in a nest of lies. Flintfang needed it. Needed something to quell the regret that swirled in his chest.

Burntstag would give him silence. His mind could be still, and the tom could finally rest. The tunnel under the Thunderpath was just ahead now. Flintfang's paws seemed to hover over the forest floor, perhaps he ran half the way. His thoughts would never catch him. Never. Never. If the guilt tied him down it would surely destroy him, and destroy his utopia as well. Change. Revolution. It was all just a few tail-lengths away. Through the tunnel, into darkness. A monster sped past overhead, its eyes glowing bright onto the black path. It seemed fitting that beasts such as these should guard his resolve. Perhaps they could take his guilt away.

Flintfang found his way into the tunnel now, peering into the future through its circular base. ShadowClan. Cats of the Night. Thunder would rumble no more. The storm in Flintfang's head would cease. Free me... The tom thought, feeling almost ethereal as the moon shone through the dark tube. Shadows, give me silence.

Mosspaw awoke from her nest as the storm that brew overhead raised it's rumbling voice in a cacophony of noise. Startled by the sudden awakening, she sat up, panting slightly with her fur slowly lowering to where it normally lay as the thunder rolled into silence. Once she had started to relax again, another sound caught her attention - paw steps. They were quick, and determined, and her ears perked as she listened to them pad out of the camp. Standing up, she trotted through the ferns to the main clearing, and surprise filled her when the fresh scent of Flintfang filled her nose. She quietly poked her head into the warrior den - maybe she heard wrong and her father was merely returning from a late night patrol.

She cast her gaze around at the other sleeping cats and noticed that one nest was empty - one that was apart from Falconwing's. She didn't see her father's pelt anywhere among the sleeping warriors, and she felt her fur start to stand on end. What in StarClan did he think he was doing going out so late in a storm? Fear for her father filled her, as she ducked out of the warrior den, being as silent as she could be to not disturb them. His paws had been determined, confident sounding even, surely he was fine. Maybe the storm had woken him - yes, surely that was the case. He was just going somewhere a little ways away to not disturb the others because he was restless. With a small smile and a quiet laugh, she thought to herself that surely that was the case. Maybe he would like some company, something to take his mind off of the storm. Padding over to the fresh kill pile, she grabbed a plump mouse. She had always brought him mice, and thinking back she wasn't entirely sure if he had ever said he liked them, he just always ate them. Following his scent, she padded out of the camp and into the forest, determined to keep him company until he was ready to come home or the storm had passed, whichever came first.

Concern had started to fill the young she-cat as she realized that she was following the scent trail farther away from camp than she had anticipated, but her paws didn't falter. Flintfang must know a nice clearing or something, have a special spot that he goes to on nights like this that is just a little ways from camp. She tried desperately to keep reminding herself that surely that was the case, until the harsh scent of the Thunderpath in the distance hit her nose. Wrinkling her nose at the scent of the black, glistening Thunderpath, she set down the mouse and concentrated more on where the scent was going, only to find that it kept leading straight to the Thunderpath. Fear made her fur stand on end now, and it was curiosity and terror for her father's well-being that drove her to pick up the mouse and continue forward again. He wasn't a mouse-brain, after all, he must have some location or plan in mind.

She stopped at the edge of the trees, looking down at the Thunderpath which had a lone figure beside it, peering down into a strange, pitch-black circular..... hole? Her eyes turned onto the figure, and she dropped the mouse as she recognized the pelt of her father. Her horror grew as she watched the gray tom she loved so much descend into the dark depths of the strange thing, and the darkness swallowed him hole. Her paws hesitated for only a moment, caught between going after and getting someone before they made their way down to the entrance of that dark pit, and she peeked around the side of it, trying to force her eyes to adjust. The storm clouds that reigned the sky above blocked what little light could have filtered from the moon and stars, so with a deep breath, she listened. She listened, and then slowly, hesitant and scared, placed that first paw into the darkness of the weird tunnel that loomed above her, and enclosed her on every side. Swallowing her panic, she slowly followed Flintfang, scared of what she would be met with, what he would say... But the love and respect she carried for the sharp-tongued tom that had seemed to despise her existence initially forced her to continue on. She had to know he was safe.

She was blind, blind in her walking, and blind to her father's motives and intentions.

Between his ears, behind his eyes, raged a storm; it was something quite untamable and relentless.With each passing moment, shadows twisted and shifted underneath the moonlight, and the sensation grew stronger. Never before had the calico warrior allowed himself to become distracted in such a way but now it was difficult to see any sense in the monotony of clan life with such grandeur just over the horizon. Thankfully, this particular night, he was at the head of the patrol. With a few instructional words and a flick of his tail, the tom sent them away and into the dark of night. Despite the watery decimation of the forest, there was still plenty of undergrowth to lose himself in. The lack of focus made it difficult to hunt. Every rumbling of thunder that caused his ears to twitch, the rain droplets that drummed softly against his thick coat... it caused his thoughts to whirl and twist as much as the mounting wind. And he loved it.

With the rest of the Shadowclan cats dispersed, he felt as if he was allowed to let his mind wander in whichever direction it saw fit. Each moment felt like another overwhelmingly suffocated by ancient laws and rules, choking away at the clans until eventually all air would be stripped from the lungs. It was something that clung to his pelt tighter, and itched more furiously under the skin, than even the water that now soaked his coat. But it wasn't just for him that this burden had blossomed. Perhaps he was simply the first to be awakened to the notion, and thus left with the natural born duty to open the minds of others. Regardless the truth, Burntstag sought to free those who were also confined, whether it be due to their own ignorance, or misguided beliefs, or for the sake of traditions. None of that would matter when Starclan was left to rot, unworshiped, in the starry skies above. And the warrior code and thoughts of senseless battles would be mere things of the past.

He sucked in a sharp breath, allowing the ice cold air to prickle at the back of his throat. It was almost a comforting sensation and seemed to sharpen his senses further, pulling him out of his own mind. Studying the path ahead, the tom realized his paws had carried him quite far away from the originally intended patrol path. No cat would notice, or care, as long as he brought back prey and collected the patrol in a usual time. And later on, they would forgive him for those few moments, relishing in the glorious future he built for them. They would be without the strife of long-imposed clan tensions and with all paws working towards a goal, without fear of the fight, no cat would go hungry. As he stared into the darkness, the barely visible mouth of the tunnel suddenly became the only thing he saw. Several meetings with Flintfang had occurred there. His heart seemed to thud faster in its cage. The Thunderclan tom shared his goal and saw the potential. If anything, he owed it to the tabby for assisting in building the vision and hope they shared.

Mud clung to his pads but any prints and scent were swiftly carried away by the storm. It seemed that the night was on his side as well. Burntstag slid into the tunnel, in hopes to escape the rain for a moment or two and relish in the memories attached to this place. He was about to turn to lap at some of the filth that had splattered onto his shoulder when the outline of a frame caught his eye. The warrior was alert at once and stared down the tunnel for a moment before letting out a sharp laugh, "If I believed in such things as fate, this would certainly be a miraculous moment. But I know why you're here, as you do me. Our future is on the horizon and you need to be here for it. It's good to see you, Flintfang."

Green eyes appeared at the end of the tunnel, just as they used to long ago. Burntstag's rumbling voice came after, and Flintfang knew he was home. "You as well, Burnstag." The gray tabby answered, grinning. He was ready for whatever was to come next, and whatever hesitation he had previously felt was now torn away. The calico in front of him seemed to hold that power, to dissolve all distractions and set focus on the truly important things. Flintfang knew what he needed to do. Something great was coming, and he would be at the head, walking beside his friend as they brought a better world to its feet. "I'm glad to be here..." He started, nodding. The gray tabby barely even flinched as a monster rolled by overhead. He had become so accustomed to this tunnel that it had almost become second nature. The dinky tube, the marsh grass, and the rank unnatural monster smell. It was not a beautiful place, nor was it welcoming, but Flintfang thought he could compare it to the revolution that was coming. It was not an easy path to leave his clan behind, but he felt free now, and pushed back the guilt that clawed at him. This was his higher purpose, and while the tom didn't believe in things such as that, it felt good to donate his mind toward a cause. Nor more cats would die in vain. Soon the clans would learn.

"When will it happen?" Flintfang asked suddenly, desiring this silence and peace more and more. "I want to be ready when the time comes, you'll have my claws to fight for you." Noble words from a scoundrel of a cat. Perhaps this was his chance at redemption. The gray tabby mulled over the idea of it, of change. With Burntstag so near, it was the only thing he had the capacity to think about. The  calico seemed to fill up the tunnel with his very presence. Flintfang would follow him anywhere. The quicker the better, waiting would only allow the guilt to sink in. But now, now he was free.

It was so dark. So wet feeling. The air inside of this strange tunnel felt so different from anything she had ever felt before. She was terrified, and she was sure that it was obvious to any who would see her. Not that they really could in this pit of never-ending darkness. Her steps were slow, tentatively placed paws settling on the hard surface under them, unsure of what actually lay there. That's when a voice cut through the silence, and she froze. That voice... She knew that voice. In the darkness her mind painted a vision of the calico tom from ShadowClan that had helped her, and seemed to be friendly with Flintfang. Burntstag. Her fur, which she hadn't even noticed had started to stand on end, flattened. Of course, Flintfang was just meeting with a friend he didn't get to see often, that's all. She laughed internally at the thought, she herself had been finding that she wished she could visit Leafpaw, Ravenpaw, or Amberdawn. It was only normal that Flintfang would feel the same!

That's when the words registered. Words of the future, and Flintfang needing to be there. The way they were talking... It didn't seem as though this was planned. No, surely it was, and they were just... joking with each other, right? Or maybe she was misinterpreting. Yes, that was it. Shoving aside the worried feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that was now all too familiar, she forced herself to keep listening. Just then, Flintfang's voice responded, and relief washed over her, until the meaning behind his words hit her. His claws? To fight? For Burtnstag? What was Burntstag fighting, what was going on? The feeling of anxiety rose higher than it had before, and tears burned in the corner of her eyes. No, Flintfang was different. He was proud of her. He wouldn't abandon her, hurt her the way that Russet and Lark had done, Lark abandoning her as a kit and Russet merely standing by as the twolegs had been cruel. She still remembered the way he turned his back, uncaring and deaf to her pleading cries for help as they had forced her into a strange trap and tossed her into a snowbank, alone and cold. Flintfang wouldn't do that... Would he?...

Then the roaring started. It grew louder and louder, echoing all around the weird tunnel she stood in, until it reached an ear-splitting peak that forced her paws to sprint to the closest comfort she had. A thin, terrified wail reached to the sky from her throat, as it all became just too much for her to handle. Her paws naturally followed the direction her father's voice and come from, and she didn't even realize he was right there until she had barreled into his hind legs, crashing down with him on top of her. Panic still flowed in her veins, and she squirmed out from under him before she recognized that it was him, and buried her face in his chest, still laying on the cold, rough surface of the tunnel. "Dad... What was that noise?.. What are you doing here... It's so late... Can we please go home... I'm scared...." She whimpered, trying to bury her face in his fur, her ears flat and her tail and legs tucked tightly under her, trying to be as small as possible.

Instead of a relentless fire, plaguing his mind with the flickering flames, the moment brought a cool clarity to his anguished mind. It was as sharp as the tip of an icicle, but as soothing as honey on a scratched throat. Flintfang had become somewhat of an addiction for him, or rather, the concept they had built and created together. The way their interactions seemed to still his soul and invigorate it simultaneously were something he would never quite get used to. He was grateful to have such a wonderful cat by his side, and nearly as a part of his family. Most toms would have been defensive over their sister being approached by a potential suitor but Burntstag could not have been more pleased with the pairing. Another flicker of a smile. And then the question hung heavy in the air. When? The rumbling above head caused him to pause only momentarily as a monster roared above head.

"Soon."

A promise.

An acrid tang seemed to touch the tip of his tongue as his maw parted ever so slightly. Normally, the calico might have spit out the taste with disgust, but instead he allowed it to roll across his taste buds and seem into the very fiber of his being. It seemed to be something he could stomach now and better yet, welcomed into his system. The time for ignoring the mounting future around him was over. Burntstag needed to sink his paws into the mud and dive in head first. Something glistened behind his gaze, reflecting the moonlight as his paws dug into the muck of the stone tunnel and he acknowledged the sentiment with a grateful nod, "And you can be assured I will be alongside you for any confrontation as well. I am hoping not to use claws, but if it is a stubborn devotion to the code prevents saving the lives of many... necessary precautions must be taken to ensure our kin, and their future, is safe."

The words were soft enough only for his companion to fully catch them and it was the subdued strength that carried them despite the jostling of the world around them, aggravated by the movements of restless monsters. It was at the end of his sentence that a wailing rose as the rumbling faded. Burntstag was immediately alert and stood prepared to deal with whatever challenge they were set to face. Although his fur quickly flattened as he recognized the source of the sound shortly after it rammed into Flintfang. It was the she-cat who he'd met both in battle and whose life had been healed at Amberdawn's paws; it was Mosspaw. While the pair did not share blood, the Shadowclan warrior knew of the bond forged between this young cat and the grey-pelted tom. His heart was filled with sympathy as her whimper reached his ears. Unfortunately, her desires were an impossibility. He knew it, as much as Flintfang whose paws had set the course here for the mere fact that their future was becoming impossible to ignore for much longer.

Padding forward slowly, the tom left a short distance between them but flicked his tail reassuringly across the younger cat's pelt, "You'll have to make that journey on your own tonight, little one. It is not yet time for you to worry yourself with such matters. But I know there is an undeniable strength within you, one that your father boasts as well. And while it may not be now, there will always be a place among us for you, Mosspaw." Burntstag's intense green gaze bore into her while he spoke, but there was compassion and a gentle edge to the tone. He then turned his gaze to Flintfang with an apology written across his features. As terrible as it was to see kin separated, young from the belly of their parents, some things were necessary for growth. And this was one of those moments. They would be reunited... once Shadowclan had fallen.

Burntstag was civil, as Flintfang expected. He shouldn't have jumped for the opportunity with so much emotion. His claws? The gray tabby looked down to see them shining in the minimal light. Perhaps they would be necessary later, but for now, the calico in front of him had good intentions in mind, and Flintfang would follow him. His emotions had gotten the best of him, lead him out here into the dark tunnel of his dreams, and the rank smell didn't seem to bother him anymore, nor did the monsters passing overhead. It was a comfortable place, one so dark and sinister. He felt like the villain, a stubborn rock standing against the flow of wind and time. And it felt good. The wind washed against his fur, tickling his mind and promising a new future. And he would stand through it all. Looking past Burntstag, Flintfang could faintly make out the pine trees that grew on the other side of the Thunderpath, and his pelt prickled. Adrenaline, or euphoria. Whatever it was, he had made it. He was free, and ThunderClan couldn't keep him any longer.

Looking into the tom's green eyes caused a smile to stretch across the gray tabby's maw. It was unreal, like finally reaching a goal he had strived for, for so long. And of course, the act still needed to be executed. But Flintfang had made it, that was the important part. No longer would his mind rage against him, because its thirst had finally been satiated. The warrior refused to label the completion he had found as superficial. It would be buying into the fear that his emotions were unquenchable. But they had been satisfied, and Flintfang was whole once more, as broken and as torn as he was, he was whole.

But life had never been as kind, and he should have expected the catch. Burntstag looked past Flintfang's shoulder, and the tom froze as to what could possibly reside there. Another owl, he could handle. A raccoon? Easy. Even if Leopardstar himself had marched down the tunnel, Flintfang would have been ready for him. But what he saw instead shook him to his core. The terror ran to his side and whimpered, pressing herself into his scarred flank. "Mosspaw!" Flintfang could not hide the shock that jolted his heart out of his utopia. The calico seemed to shrink at his paws, hiding herself under him as if she was a kit. No. The gray tabby braced himself for the emotion he knew was coming. He could sense it now, at least, but he would forever be subject to its waves. Foxdung.

His heart broke in two, and Flintfang bent to meet her, letting a paw curl around his daughter's small frame, already feeling his green eyes glazing over. Burntstag was watching, but Flintfang found he didn't care. It had hit him like a tree this time, the emotion crashing over him and smashing his resolve. Never had the gray tabby expected to find love of all things in the reality he had grown to hate. Never had he loved Falconwing, he had only been infatuated with the idea of her. But Mosspaw, Mosspaw was different. And Flintfang hated her for it. He hated how she made his eyes water, he hated how she whimpered and broke his two heart pieces into four. He hated how she stared up at him and saw hope. But he knew someday he would ruin that. Flintfang was destructive, and volatile. She would be shattered in his proximity. And now the tom watched as it came to fruition.
"Mosspaw, what are you doing here?" His voice was soft, caring. A foreign thing that he only spoke to his daughter. And using it now made him even more of a scoundrel, comforting her when he knew he was smashing her world. "It's okay. It's just the monsters overhead. They can't get you down here." But Flintfang had. And perhaps he was the real monster. "You didn't... you didn't have to come." He couldn't hold up his mask any longer, and Flintfang's voice cracked as he realized what had to be done. "I'm not a good cat, Mosspaw. I've done bad things. The rest of ThunderClan knows that... but you..." Was he about to scold her for having faith in him? Flintfang hated the situation he had pulled her into. And he hated himself for breaking her heart. "I need to go, alright? But... I'm going to bring us a better world. It's a mission, really. Leopardstar doesn't know, none of the leaders do. But I'm going to save the forest, Mosspaw." Flintfang hated himself. He hated his pelt and his voice and his StarClan-cursed personality. He had made it seem like a noble cause, and in Flintfang's mind, it was. But at what cost? A new era was in the makings, but would Mosspaw be tossed aside? The gray tabby thought back to his late sister and wondered if he would have cast Chervilpaw into the dirt for the promise of a better world. And he questioned it. Mosspaw. Those blue-green eyes staring up at him were almost enough to bring him back to the clan he despised. Almost.

"Don't... trust cats like me, okay? I... I never meant to hurt you. And I'm a foxheart for it. But maybe... this is what I need to do. Maybe I'm meant to find all the forest's little secrets. And maybe you're meant to love and heal. And you loved me, I remember when you said it." A single tear fell from his temple, and Flintfang let it slide down his cheek, continuing to belt his heart out, wanting to stop the pain. "I don't know why you love me. I don't deserve it, really. I've done bad things. And I'm about to do another. And... I don't know if it means anything. But I love you too, Mosspaw. But I have to go."

Shrinking further against Flintfang as Burntstag approached, Mosspaw looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "What are you talking about? No, Flintfang has to come home. What will I tell everyone if he doesn't? They... No, I need him." She turned her head to gaze up at her father, ears flattened in fear and dismay. "I need you... Please... I'll do whatever you need. Whatever you want. I'll go back to being a warrior, I'll stay out of trouble, I won't bother you ever again, just... Please... Please don't leave.... Don't leave me dad.... My place is here, next to you, don't take it away from me...." She glanced back to Burntstag, unsure if what she was about to say would be revealing too much. "I need you... I need your guidance, your help... Don't make me do it on my own... Dewpaw confessed he had feelings for me, as more than a friend... I turned him down, but I can feel him watching me still... How do I deal with that? What do I tell him? What if something happens?"

Flintfang's soft voice helped her fur to start lying flat. The monsters overhead... Was he completely sure they couldn't extend their reach to the tunnel? They were so loud... So close... Surely it wouldn't take much for them to discover this place. "Of course I didn't have to, I saw you leaving, and I was worried and couldn't sleep, so I brought... I brought you something, and hoped that I could keep you company.... Make sure you were safe... What would you do if another raccoon came by without me around?" She tried to give a weak smile, as if pushing away their surroundings, pretending that everything was fine, and they were safe in ThunderClan territory. Just the two of them, facing the world together. Her fur raised as her father continued. She opened her mouth in protest.

"You are a good cat! I don't care what you did, other cats have done worse and will do worse. It happened, it's in the past, and we can only dictate our future... I love you... I don't want a better future, if it means a future without you to confide in... To guide my paws... To turn to... I can't do this alone, please don't abandon me.... I can't... I can't take it...." The calico apprentice seemed to shrink, the insecurities that kept their grip on her heart over the moons displayed for these two cats to see in it's full being. "Let me help you. I want to help... If you're saving the forest let me come with you.. I promise I won't be a burden... I won't hold you back... Please...." Her voice broke, choked sobs filling the air. The warm voice ruffled her ears where her head remained bowed, and she felt anger rise, heating her pelt. He was really going to leave, regardless of her pleas. No, she wouldn't... couldn't let him...

"I can trust whoever I want, Flintfang, and no cat can tell me otherwise. You don't have to hurt anyone. Maybe I am meant to love and heal, but then that includes you, you... you mousebrain! I love you because you were there. When I needed someone to take me in, you stepped in. Even if it was unwilling at first, you still accepted it. You took on Lilypaw and me, even though you didn't want to. That's why I care, that's why I think you're a good cat. Because you are, and I wish you could see it!" She hissed, her voice raising. She stood on shaky legs, taking a step back, her eyes narrowing. "You're really still going to go... And there's nothing I can do to stop you, is there?"

Her eyes cut over to the ShadowClan cat, and she couldn't help but feel betrayed by not only Flintfang, but Burntstag as well. Her shoulders and tail drooped as Flintfang spoke again. Her anger faded, the hole it left quickly replaced with the hollow feelings of defeat and resignation. "Fine. Follow your path. Leave me behind. But... If you ever need me... Want to see me... You'll know where to find me... I'll be here waiting.... I promise." She lowered her gaze to the ground before padding forward and pressing her nose to Flintfang's ever so gently, as if a sudden movement would cause him to leave sooner. She lingered for a moment before stepping back. "Wait here, for just a heartbeat. I brought something for you, and even if you're leaving I intend to give it to you." She padded out of the tunnel, back towards ThunderClan territory. A monster roared by as she emerged, causing her fur to fly wildly, but she didn't even flinch at it's sudden appearance.

She padded numbly to where the mouse had been forgotten, and picked it up, before turning and carrying it back into the tunnel. Her eyes stayed downcast, refusing to meet Flintfang's as she gave him the mouse. "I... I know that mice are your favorite.... So I brought it to help cheer you up." Tears were filling her eyes again and she shook them away, refusing to cry in front of him. Maybe if she had been stronger, he wouldn't be leaving. In that case, she wouldn't show the weakness anymore, even if her heart was breaking. Nudging it towards him with her nose, she turned to Burntstag, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. She stared into his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Burntstag. You had better keep him safe. If I find out he was hurt padding after you.... I will never forgive you." Her eyes narrowed in a silent threat, hoping that it came across as a true promise and not some silly medicine cat apprentice's empty threat.

She took a couple pawsteps backward, speaking now to the darkness between the two toms as she still refused to meet Flintfang's gaze. "If you ever decide you need me, or want me, I'll be here. I...," her voice cracked and she let out a pained gasp before she continued. "I love you, dad. I always will. Goodbye." With that, she turned her back on the darkness of the tunnel, and sprinted away from the second father she had ever known, and the second that had turned his back on her. She ran through the familiar trees of ThunderClan, the storm rumbling above as if matching the turmoil in her heart. Her paws finally gave out from under her, and she lay sprawled in the mud in the middle of the forest, the rain falling from above mixing with her tears as the thunder masked her cries as her heart, and the facade she had put up, shattered.