Farewell, Forever [O]

OOC: A few days after the fox invasion.

IC:

Lionstripe munched happily on a quail and largely ignored his bandages. The fox had done a fair amount on him and he would certainly scar, but for the time being he was content with life. He had youth on his side and he was regaining strength and vitality quickly. Falconmoon, too, was regaining strength by the day. He grimaced ever so slightly at certain movements, but he was fine overall. He was content to tuck into a squirrel, savoring every bite while he relaxed in his assigned den. His eyes lingered over at Bloodstrike. It had been days and the old tom hadn't moved. He wasn't even awake.

"Do you think we're allowed to ask for seconds?" Lionstripe whispered to Falconmoon... though the whispering was loud enough to be heard throughout the medicine den and was ultimately pointless. Falconmoon shrugged and managed to keep an amused smirk off of his face.

"Ask Smokepetal... Lionpig." His tone was teasing, not that Lionstripe cared. He shrugged and pushed away a little quail carcass that was picked clean. The boy sure could eat... and his muscles actually filled in almost in a way that was too wide for his body. He looked more like he belonged to Thunderclan than Skyclan. On some level, it reminded Falconmoon of Copperfox.

Pushing the thoughts of his brother from a previous life away, his eyes went back to the old, scarred tom.

Is this how you're going to go, you stubborn fool? You absolute squirrel-brain! Taking on a whole fox alone... Never mind that Falconmoon did it. Mind your business, reader!

After several moments of quiet... Bloodstrike did begin to stir. First it was only a few kicks of his legs. Then it became whole body movements. Falconmoon and Lionstripe stared at him with interest, both growing hopeful that he would make it through after all. The old tom sat up in his nest, his forelimbs holding up the rest of his body. He certainly looked worse for wear, covered head to toe in leaf bandages.

"You're awake!" Lionstripe said cheerfully. "How are you feeling, Bloodstrike?"

---

Bloodstrike?

The large tom spat immediately in response and flexed his paws as if to unsheathe claws. They're here to hurt me they're here to hurt me they're here to hurt me get them first get them first get them first get them first kill kill kill! He staggered around weakly, but he was absolutely making his way toward the unknown cat that spoke to him. Bloodstrike... every time he heard his name they hurt him. They had captured him from his home and they were torturing him. He was back in the Asylum's prison, with no memory or recollection of ever escaping from that place.

These were Asylum cats. They had to die. Even Dawnhawk was here.

A ferocious growl ripped from Bloodstrike's throat, stumbling over another cat's lying form to close in on Lionstripe. He'd tear out his throat the instant he was able. You'll pay for what you have done to me, my family... my clan. I will kill everyone in this cage with me!

---

Falconmoon knew that look better than he would have liked and it sent a chill down his spine. He got to his feet quickly, wincing at the lash of pain through his body in response. "BEECHFANG! SMOKEPETAL, SPOTTEDFROG! ANYBODY! GET IN HERE NOW!" He caterwauled. Bloodstrike was going to tear open his wounds if he kept moving like that... and he'd certainly kill the confused Lionstripe if he got too close. The tom was out of his mind. The rock had taken it's toll... and Falconmoon wasn't sure if Bloodstrike would ever be himself again. His heart pounded in his chest... and all noise faded away except for that. What should he do? What should he do????

The foxes had been dealt with, and the camp had been cleaned up about as well as could be expected. One fox had fled, and Beechfang had to resist the urge to go hunting for it. Wolfblossom had that covered already with sky patrols searching the territory, so Beechfang had busied herself helping fetch herbs for Smokepetal (while trying desperately not to hover over the injured) and cleaning up the camp in addition to training Mintpaw. Now, she sat near the edge of camp with a starling, a small break from the day's duties.

Of the voices Beechfang had expected to call her name, Falconmoon was not one of them. That he called Beechfang, Spottedfrog, and Smokepetal... It made Beechfang's hackles rise on instinct, the starling she'd been eating forgotten at her paws as she stood and hurried toward the medicine den.

Bloodstrike was awake, the leaf-bandages covering him still intact, but he really should not have been out of his nest at all, with his injuries. He and Foxtrot had been the worse off, though Falconmoon, Lionstripe and Graywind and other clanmates had not escaped the jaws of the foxes and were in varying states of recovery. In Beechfang's opnion none of them would have left her medicine den until they were fully healed... But this wasn't her medicine den anymore. It hadn't been for a long time. Bloodstrike, though... Her father worried her. He'd been through worse, she was unfortunately very well aware... But he was no longer a younger cat, no longer able to easily bounce back from such nasty injuries. Not that bouncing back from the Asylum's clutches had been easy, either...

And then Beechfang caught sight of the look on her father's face.

"Lionstripe, get back. He's not himself... I doubt he recognizes you." Her eye slid to Falconmoon and narrowed slightly. "Nor you, grandson." Her tone was very, very pointed. Oh, I think he recognizes you, at least. Or thinks he does. She had avoided Falconmoon for long enough, and she still couldn't make up her own mind on what she thought about the golden tom, but Beechfang did not think his presence would help. She hadn't died yet, after being back for this long. Maybe, just maybe... But the safety of her clanmates was just as important as Bloodstrike's, and that she would deal with later.

"Don't say his name. Tell Smokepetal and Spottedfrog... My sister will understand." Spottedfrog would have clawed what remained of Beechfang's ears off for calling her sister, but Beechfang didn't care.

If Lionstripe hadn't already moved back as she suggested, he was going to be moved as Beechfang put herself between the younger warrior and the injured Bloodstrike. He shouldn't have been standing at all, much less staggering around, but he'd always been too stubborn for his own good. Or the good of anyone else. And the expression on his face sent her mind reeling back to the days when he'd returned to them from being in the Asylum's tender care for a whole season. If she could drag Iniko from the grave, she would have killed him again. Slowly. If she could drag Dawnhawk back out of the grave...

No. She had to focus. Bloodstrike.

"Dad." She said slowly, "You need to sit before those bandages come undone. Nobody here will hurt you." She didn't think that he would follow her voice, but she had to try to get this under control before it spiraled.

Smokepetal was asleep in her own nest, nose tucked under her feathery tail, when the yelling started. She bolted upright, every hair on end, her chest heaving with shock and fright... Bloodstrike was... attacking Lionstripe - but why? Smokepetal couldn't think of any possible reason for it. "Back away!" she called to the three young toms, but she couldn't force her paws to carry her any closer. The  ex-leader was a large cat, and he looked more fearsome than any other she'd ever met. Fear flashed in her eyes, and Smokepetal pressed herself against the wall of the den, uncertain what to do.

They weren't alone for long. Beechfang bolted inside, separating Lionstripe from his attacker and speaking soothingly to the enraged tom. The former medicine cat's presence bolstered her confidence enough to creep forward, towards the stores of herbs. "Lavender..." she whispered under her breath as she pawed through the herbs, ears slicked back to listen in case anyone came charging in her direction... "Poppy... thyme?"

*

The large tuxedo she-cat wasn't far, either. Spottedfrog had taken to curling up near the medicine den, where she could keep an eye on who was coming, who was going... Most had escaped the foxes' invasion with minor wounds, herself included, but Bloodstrike hadn't been so lucky. He was hurt... bad. And Spottedfrog was no medicine cat, but it didn't take a genuis to see that her father's body was well past its prime. She'd never call him slow, but neither too would she have imagined a fox getting the better of him like that.

Getting the better of both of us, she thought bitterly. The beast had fooled them both into thinking it was dead - or dying, at least - only to return for one final go at Bloodstrike's life.

Green-gray eyes closed, exhausted despite the fact that she'd done little more than lay here for the last several days, refusing to leave just in case-

"BEECHFANG! SMOKEPETAL, SPOTTEDFROG! ANYBODY! GET IN HERE NOW!"

Falconmoon? Spottedfrog hesitated for just a moment... just long enough to watch her half-sister charge into the medicine den as a few curious onlookers padded after, peering into the den from outside. And then she was on her paws, shoving her way through the crowd and abruptly coming to a halt once she'd properly entered the crowded den. "Out, you two," she growled lowly to Falconmoon and Lionstripe. Moving slowly, cautiously, Spottedfrog crept across the den to stand beside Beechfang. Bloodstrike was in a frenzy, and one quick glance at the other she-cat's face made her hackles lift. "Dad, relax... it was just a dream. It's me, Spottedfrog, and Beechfan-" she tripped over the word "-ce is here too." If Bloodstrike was having trauma flashbacks, he'd have no idea who Beechfang was. And in this state, one misstep could end in disaster.

Her throat was tight, and her chest burned with grief, but no tears fell. What were they supposed to do? Hesitantly, Spottedfrog moved forward another step, dropping her head down against his shoulder. "It's alright, Dad."

Lionstripe didn't have to be told twice. He was already backing away. Something had happened... something was wrong. Beechfang put herself between him and the larger tom, and for that he was grateful. Falconmoon slid between them too, much to Lionstripe's surprise.

The white and gold tom held Beechfang's gaze for just a moment... just a slight glimmer of wisdom in them beyond his years. Then he blinked... and he was Falconmoon again. "Stay behind me," He softly commanded Lionstripe. He'd been chewed up a bit, but not nearly as much as the younger warrior had. They were creeping slowly around the giant tom and were trying to make their way through the Medicine den opening. Spottedfrog was there now too. There was no need to go physically fetch her, much to Falconmoon's relief.

---

Bloodstrike stared into the unrecognizable face of some silvery she-cat. A growl rumbled deep in his throat as he tried to process the words. She... sort of... looked familiar, like someone maybe he should know. The words she said weren't making sense. His eyes traveled over to the black and white she-cat, one that he was positive he'd never seen before in his entire life. For the moment he was distracted and confused. He took a second to look around at his surroundings too and noted that the root cage was... gone?

"It's me, Spottedfrog, and Beechfan-ce is here too."

Bloodstrike's anger surged forward in that instant. His eyes darkened and hardened as he fixed his gaze on Spottedfrog. His ears flattened against his head and a growl rumbled dangerously in his throat.

"'fff yoo're goin' to try n' trick me... at leas' make sure you... ash'ually know my daughter'sh name." He spoke, but his speech was slow and slurred. He kicked off of the ground and plunged his teeth into flesh. The world around him blurred and bucked as pain throbbed throughout his whole body. He couldn't tell what exactly he had on his mouth, but he could taste blood. That was good enough for him. He wrenched his head back and forth, hoping to sever muscle from bone and at least cripple his opponent. The silver-furred she-cat had been forgotten already.

Why was everything so blurry? What was wrong with his balance?

---

Falconmoon's eyes widened at the scene. In that moment... Falconmoon froze, unsure of what to do... and Dawnhawk took over without hesitation. "Put him down!" He yowled, unable to get control of his paws yet to actually move forward. He was yelling at Beechfang. "Put him down now! He's... he's gone!" His eyes were ablaze with emotion: Fear. Anger. Uncertainty. Put him down or I'll do it. Don't make me... don't make me do it! He couldn't yell anymore. His eyes only lingered on the corner of Bloodstrike's jawbone... where right beside it beat his life source. If he had to do it, he was going to do with the precision and confidence of a professional killer.

But he definitely hoped that it wouldn't come to that. He'd come so far to not be his previous self. This would just be the beginning of the unraveling that was to follow.

Something strange glimmered in Falconmoon's gaze for a moment as their eyes met, and Beechfang fought back a low growl. She'd told them both to get out of here, he should have taken that warning. Not stuck around in this cursed den.

Smokepetal's quiet mumbling made her ear twitch, and Beechfang's head snapped in the medicine cat's direction. Poppy seeds. No... No wonder her father was this bad. It had been a long, long time since she had seen him in a state like this. "Please... Tell me you didn't, you dung-for-brains, starsforsaken airheaded idiot." She hissed lowly, voice fraught with pain. Moons spent trying to drag him back from the half-dead state he'd been in and fighting the thought that he would've been better off, watching her father destroy his relationships one at a time, all those moons fighting - against Bloodstrike,  to keep their family from falling apart further... Of fighting for their collective sanity, Beechfang could only watch as it slipped through her paws like water.

Spottedfrog arrived, and Beechfang shot her half-sister a cautioning look. They had never been friends, but care of their father was the one thing they shared in common. In this, Beechfang could trust her to help. Spottedfrog's words were about as calming as they could be under the circumstances. It might take a bit for dad to come around, but...

Bloodstrike spoke, words slow and voice slurred. He didn't recognize her old name... She wondered, briefly, if she could play it off as having changed her name.

And then there was no time to wonder, as he lunged for Spottedfrog. Beechfang felt like she'd been kicked in the teeth. Falconmoon yowled, and Beechfang's head turned toward him. I've killed one parent already, isn't that enough? She wanted to scream. She wanted to protest, as she'd done before Smokefeather's death. Smokefeather herself had pushed for it... And Beechfang had given in. She'd questioned her decision endlessly, wondering if she should have stood firm in her refusal to raise claws against another family member and sacrifice the clan for that refusal instead.

But Smokefeather would have wound up dead anyways. As would they all have. What was the blood of one cat against that of many? If she didn't intervene now, Bloodstrike would surely kill Spottedfrog... He'd go down in the process, he was older now, weaker in body. The fight against the foxes had proved that. And now, the poppy seeds had taken the rest of him. The twisted creature in front of her was not her father. Not who her father had been.

This was not what Bloodstrike would have wanted. He had fought too hard to come back from this already. And this time, she didn't think he would be able to come back from it. If he did, his body was so frail... There would be no life for him left, but the elder's den he vowed never to be in.

"I... I killed Flowerthorn. I didn't know it was her... I feel horrible." And the guilt he had felt, the secret they'd both kept. Bloodsrtike would never recover from killing his own daughter. One clanmate had been enough.If he even could come back from this haze he was in...

She stared at Falconmoon, a look of pure, bitter loathing twisting her expression, but she wasn't sure who it was for. Herself, maybe. The Asylum and Dawnhawk, for their cruelty. Smokepetal, for the simple unwitting error she had made. The error that would cost them all. Perhaps Falconmoon, because she knew he was right. He stared at Bloodstrike, and Beechfang knew that her father was gone. All that was left was to deal the final blow. One last kindness, that she would take responsibility for.

Wolfstar, Blossomstep... Forgive me. Mom... Beechfang moved. Tears stung her eyes and made her vision blur, but she had been close enough that it didn't matter.

"I'm sorry." She whispered hoarsely, claws flashing through the air. They caught on fur and flesh, tore through. The scarred gray tabby stumbled back, blood burning against her fur.

Bloodstrike is dead.

There was a moment of silence. A heartbeat, where no one spoke, no one moved. And then Bloodstrike growled. It was low, and dangerous. Not a warning, not a threat, a promise. Despite this, Spottedfrog felt no fear, because the crushing realization that he'd forgotten her, that he had no idea who she was, took absolute priority in that moment. She felt hollow, and the words that Bloodstrike spoke seconds later only further deepened the chasm of grief that was threatening to swallow her whole. Spottedfrog stared, stinging eyes fixated on her father's face. He didn't remember her now, but he'd get better. It would be okay. He could get through this, right? Beechfang could-

She turned her gaze to her half-sister for a split second, searching for some sort of wisdom, some sort of solution, but in that same second, Bloodstrike surged forward, closing the distance between them with surprising speed given his condition. He was missing a fang, but the other three worked just fine, and as Bloodstrike thrashed his head back and forth like a dog with a rat, the she-cat's own inherited bulk was the only thing that kept him from snapping her neck. Spottedfrog let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a screech, and she jerked backwards, trying to free herself and accomplishing nothing other than injuring herself further.

Between the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears and the snarls ripping from her father's maw, Spottedfrog didn't hear Falconmoon's demand, or Beechfang's apology. Nor did she have an angle to see her half-sister's claws hit their mark. But Bloodstrike's grip weakened suddenly, and with another damaging jerk backwards, she was free. Wheeling backwards, she was finally able to take in the scene, relief suddenly being replaced by horror when she realized why, exactly, Bloodstrike had released her. "No," she whispered, moving forward again as blood gushed from the old tom's opened neck. She placed her paws against the wound. "No, no no no," she frantically looked around for something - anything - to stop the bleeding but neither Beechfang nor Smokepetal, who had stopped looking for herbs long enough to turn her horrified expression on the chaos, seemed ready to offer a solution. Desperate but helpless, she turned back to Bloodstrike, tears finally carving paths down her cheeks. "Dad, please..." she begged hoarsely. "Please don't go."

There were two healers in this den. Why were they just standing there? It was then that she noticed the blood on Beechfang's paws. Oh. It had taken her until now to realize that the gushing blood didn't come from a wound he'd reopened in his fury... those were fresh claw marks... Spottedfrog's accusatory gaze pinned the former medicone cat with a level of malice she'd never thought she could achieve as the dots finally connected. There was no coming back from this now because it had been intentional. Murder.

Murderer.

Wild with rage and grief, Spottedfrog spun on her heel and beelined for Beechfang. The two she-cats clashed, and with fang and claw, Spottedfrog bit and lashed and tore. There would be consequences for this she was sure, but not before she got her pound of flesh, first.

Bloodstrike saw the motion in the corner of his eye... but he was too slow somehow. He should have been able to dodge that... but the claws of the silvered one struck true. He released the black and white she-cat and spun to face the one that had attacked him. He spun too quickly and wasn't able to catch himself with his paws in time. He staggered, uncoordinated and his reflexes delayed.

He hit the ground with a thud. Blood poured from his wound and spread across the medicine den. Bloodstrike willed his body to move, but it wouldn't budge. It was too weak and too tired to respond beyond what it already had. His final living thoughts was only of his family that he would be leaving behind. His final thoughts were of failure... and how he couldn't stand the cat that he became.


Instead of darkness closing in... he found himself surrounded in Starlight. Bloodstrike had the strength to stand, and stand he did. Memories came rushing back all at once, right up to the moment he hit his head on that rock. A torrent of fear and sickening guilt washed over him. Spottedfrog! No! He tried to force himself back into the land of the living as he had before when he had multiple lives as Bloodstar. When he couldn't, when his being went nowhere, fury blazed bright in his eyes as he cast his gaze accusingly on the source of the starlight.

"Let me go! I have no interest in being in this dirt hole with-" And then he saw Wolfcall... Blossomstep... Dustpaw... Copperfox...

Mistrain.

His voice caught in his throat and he choked. For a moment he was an apprentice again. His sister. It shamed him that he forgot what she even looked like after so long. Adderflare was there too. They were all just calmly waiting for him to come forward... and this time it was for good. As warm and pleasant as the thoughts were, Bloodstrike shook his head to banish the warmth and the tears that it brought away.

"No. She has to know... She has to know I didn't mean it!" He willed himself to go back once more, but it was like throwing himself into a brick wall. It was utterly pointless.

"Dad... Come home. You have given so much for Skyclan you literally have nothing left to give. You've earned your place in the stars, though you may not believe it. Your time has come. Please don't fight it. Please don't make me send you to the Mist. Don't do this to us... Don't do this to your family." Copperfox's voice was gentle, but it was authoritative too. Bloodstrike considered his son's words... and knew he was right. He'd destroyed his body for Skyclan and would have done it again without hesitation. His mind had finally been destroyed too, in one last ditch effort to protect his clan from a vengeful fox.

Slowly, the giant tom stopped trying to force his soul back to the Forest. It felt wrong to give up. It made him feel like a failure.

"Come with us." Copperfox urged gently, now approaching his father. The stars shimmered in his pelt like a small copper galaxy. "You have done all you physically and possibly can for them. Let go." Copperfox reached out a single paw and gently placed it on Bloodstrike's shoulder. The giant tom hesitated and looked back at his son. Copperfox was very grown now and looked more powerful now than he ever had in life, yet his smile was warm and his eyes were a soft, liquid copper of compassion and patience.

"Will they be... alright?" He choked his last word, fear and uncertainty clutching his throat.

"Come. Watch over them from the stars." Copperfox insisted once more.

"Don't... don't pull me away if something bad is going to happen. Don't." Bloodstrike had never felt like a kit in front of his own kit before. Yet here he was, practically mewling for reassurance.

"Dad... there is nothing more you can do. You may not have always followed the code but you were loyal to your clan and to your family to the point it killed you. Its time to rest now. Come home. The rest of our family will join us at some point. This isn't goodbye forever." Copperfox put more authority in his tone once more, but he was still very careful to be gentle. Bloodstrike would only resist if he felt challenged.

The giant tom hesitated once more, his sides heaving with labored breath at his indecision... his unacceptance of this turn of events. But he knew that Copperfox was right. It took a long time... what felt like many moments, but eventually, Bloodstrike's paws began to move toward the light. He followed Copperfox into Starclan, the familiar world of shimmering stars all around him bringing him only some comfort.

A silver, glimmering river beside him caught his eye. He looked at it, as it reminded him of Beechfang's and his last conversation at the Moonlit Creek. He stopped and gasped, stunned at his appearance.

Bloodstrike was whole again. His scars were gone, his ears were round and in tact. His tail was back too. He looked as he did in the prime of his life, back to a time when he was strong, young and happy. He felt stronger. He began to walk forward again, not wanting to be left behind by Copperfox. As he passed forever into the threshold of the dead, stars clung to his pelt as brilliantly as fresh fallen snow under moonlight.

Bloodstrike made it to Starclan after all...

---

Falconmoon blinked in surprise as Beechfang carried out his suggestion. He also felt... sick. This is the second time I have made her kill a parent... He shrank back with that knowledge... appalled. Lionstripe looked nearly catatonic and remained silent. Just when he thought it was all over... Spottedfrog leaped at Beechfang.

"No!" He yowled. He threw dirt in Beechfang's one good eye, moved as swiftly as his body would allow to forcefully wedge himself between them.... his own flesh be cursed to the dark forest. With the precision and focus of a fighter far older than he was now, he aimed a well-placed skull bash right up against the corner of Spottedfrog's jaw, hoping to hit that nerve that forced muscles to lock up and most things to fall over to the ground for just a moment. Regardless of his success or failure, he was already yelling.

"DAD WOULDN'T- BLOODSTRIKE WOULDN'T WANT HIS DAUGHTERS TO KILL EACH OTHER SPOTTEDFROG! YOU SHAME HIS MEMORY, HIS SACRIFICE, WITH YOUR ACTIONS!" This was absolutely not Falconmoon talking. He was a confident cat, but not this confident. The voice booming out of the young tom was one who had lead troops into battle on many occasions. This was second nature to him. He calmed himself, letting whatever blood may have been shed by either she-cat run it's course down his pelt. Stars it stung... but he wouldn't show weakness. Not right now.

"Lionstripe. Birdstar. NOW!" He commanded, his gaze icy and steady on Spottedfrog. Lionstripe didn't need to be told a second time. He moved quickly despite the pain of his injuries. Falconmoon was confident in his ability to hold both of his... sisters at bay until the leader arrived.

For a heartbeat, Beechfang could only stare, numb. "I'm sorry," She choked out once more, voice slightly louder this time as Spottedfrog barreled into her with teeth and claws.

She would not raise her claws against Spottedfrog too. No matter how much her half-sister would have deserved it... No matter how much Beechfang had thought she'd deserved it in the past. The silver tabby shifted her weight, tucking her chin and sinking low to the ground, allowing Spottedfrog's blows to land across her shoulders and back. The blood that filled the medicine den was no longer just Spottedfrog and Bloodstrike's, but hers as well. What nobody had done the first time her claws sliced a clanmate's throat was being done now. Too little, too late. Beechfang had no response for it.

Maybe she would join her father among the dead sooner than she thought.

The stinging of dirt in her eye made her snarl. But suddenly Spottedfrog's claws and teeth were no longer embedding themselves in her pelt. Falconmoon's voice rose above them. Only it didn't sound like something Falconmoon would have said at all. Beechfang's lip curled. Bloodstrike was right. She was right. Dawnhawk. He was Dawnhawk. Falconmoon would not have called Bloodstrike dad, not even jokingly. He tried to correct, but it was too late.

That glimmer in his eye, the way he'd stared at Bloodstrike's throat before she had jumped into action... Beechfang silently cursed at the golden tom, staring up at him balefully. How quick she was to do his bidding. It sickened her, even knowing that both times had saved the clan more strife... That Bloodstrike would not have wanted to live as he was just as Smokefeather had been ready to go. Pulling Spottedfrog off of her was a ploy... But one he'd failed in. He had slipped up... That Dawnhawk walked among them was now plain for all to see. Had he been waiting for the chance to kill Bloodstrike with the least amount of blood on his paws possible? The opportunity had presented itself on a golden platter. His words about legacy meant nothing, not when fighting each other was all this family had done for seasons.

She wondered if Spottedfrog had even heard his words in the midst of her rage. She couldn't bring herself to care.

It didn't occur to Spottedfrog that Beechfang never even tried to fight back, instead hunching down and weathering the storm as her half-sister unleashed moons of anger with tooth and claw. "YOU KILLED HIM!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "HE COULD HAVE GOTTEN BETTER AND YOU KILLED HIM!" Was that the truth? She didn't know. Bloodstrike could have very well died, anyway, at any moment... but Spottedfrog could not make sickness bleed, nor could she plunge fangs into the neck of circumstance. Beechfang, however, was right here, as unfortunate as it turned out to be for everyone involved. Distantly, she heard Falconmoon yowling at them, but she paid it little mind. Why would he want her to stop? She had killed Bloodstrike, right there in front of them all, she was-

There was a sudden, blinding pain in her jaw. Stars popped across her vision, and she felt her teeth snap together painfully, the sudden taste of blood - her own, this time - coating the back of her tongue. Spottedfrog was ripped unceremoniously from atop Beechfang, stumbling backwards with a snarl and shaking her head wildly. She sank to her belly, sides heaving, as the golden blur in front of her finally solidified into Falconmoon. He shouted, then, some dung about not fighting, not disgracing Bloodstrike’s memory… but he’d tripped over the first part of his sentence, and now had the utmost attention from both Beechfang and Spottedfrog, who froze, staring unblinkingly at the tom. It was shocking how quickly it seemed both she-cats came to the same conclusion.

He’d said… he’d said dad. There was no mistaking, no matter how quickly he tried to correct himself. Spottedfrog’s heart hammered in her chest, eyes burning with rage that only seconds ago had been directed at Beechfang. Her father hadn’t been losing his mind, after all. Dawnhawk was back, he’d been walking amongst them for moons… and SkyClan was none the wiser.

Well... you can tell our father he might have the upper paw now, still strong and high up on his Tallbranch… But what goes up has got to fall and I will be there when that happens. x

She distantly registered Bloodstrike's still corpse in her periphery as Dawnhawk’s voice echoed in her ears, words spoken back when she’d been hardly a warrior… that night he gave her the scars that still marked her face, the night she learned that they shared blood. It was a voice she could never forget, and though even under normal circumstances, Falconmoon resembled her long-dead brother, this cat… this cat before her, speaking with the confidence and experience of a hardened warrior, was not her nephew. The kind, compassionate young tom that Wolfblossom had raised, that Smokestep had trained, was a ruse… he’d fooled them all. All except Bloodstrike. “He was right, and he didn’t even get to live to see it proven.” Her voice was quiet, though her body language belied any sense of calm her tone may have implied.

Put him down! Put him down now! He's... he's gone!

Spottedfrog’s eyes narrowed at that much more recent memory. Her breathing quickened, and her claws scraped cold stone as they slid out in preparation. How he’d managed to worm himself back to the land of the living, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. Her half-brother had deceived them for this long, but that ended today. Before there was time to attempt something more reasonable, Spottedfrog moved forward with murderous intent, eyes locked on the spot where she knew a river of blood pulsed at the surface. It would only take one bite, just there, and then she could die alongside both of them and this curse would finally be over. Her hind legs kicked off the ground, a leap that doubtlessly would have closed the space between them had she bothered to take stock of her own injuries before attempting nepoticide... or, was it fratricide?

The damage that Bloodstrike had managed became apparent when instead of catching her, Spottedfrog’s left foreleg crumpled uselessly when she attempted to put weight on it, excruciating pain causing her to gasp in surprise as she crashed to the ground only half a tail length away from where she’d started. She tried to stand, but the limb hung, idle, and refused to respond no matter how hard she tried to get it under her. The warrior closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling in a bark of manic laughter.

“Well, it looks like you got what you wanted, brother,” she breathed, letting her head flop to the ground as she finally gave up. “How does it feel?”