Fate Forced by Your Hand [C]

Hemlockfox was heavy, the tom all muscles and broad shoulders, but Oatfluff was determined to keep going, even as his paws ached and his legs and shoulders burned with the effort of pelting across the moor with a full-grown tom in tow. He could feel the foxes just behind him, their breath hot on his heels. But he couldn't afford the precious few seconds it would take to turn and look. It didn't matter, anyway. All that mattered was that he stayed upright and he kept his grip on Hemlockfox firm. Sharp teeth nipped at his tail and flanks. Exhaustion hung heavy on the tom. He took one look at his partner, though, and found a new strength in his paws. Hemlockfox looked worse for wear. Crimson painted the moor behind them, the medicine cat staining the ground beneath him dark red with each staggered pawstep. He was sure what he was seeing was only a fraction of the blood lost, too, the rain pelting down and washing the moor of blood, turning everything to mud in its stead.

Adrenaline and panic moved him forward. He was sure he'd have faltered at the start if it wasn't for the tom beside him. He didn't allow himself to feel the blinding fear that was trying so desperately to set in his bones. All he could do was streak forward blindly as the foxes chased them relentlessly. A brief image flashed across his mind of a patrol chasing a rabbit across the moor just like these foxes were chasing them. Were they nothing more than prey to the snarling beasts?

Rage pierced through him as he glanced back down at Hemlockfox. He was fading fast. It didn't take a medicine cat to guess the signs of blood loss. Paired with the toll of the storm, the aching cold Oatfluff felt in his bones and knew his Clanmate was feeling, too - stars, they were done for. Oatfluff would go on fighting until his last breath, but his hope was fading fast. No patrol would be around to save them, not any time soon. The rest of the Clan would be taking shelter in their dens until the storm was long gone. The way the thunder went on shaking the earth beneath them... that wouldn't be any time soon.

Faintly, the warrior registered a faint rushing growing steadily louder. The ground turned rocky beneath his paws, and he bit back a hiss as he tried not to stumble. If he faltered for even a second, they were both dead. Wherever they were, it had to be the very edges of WindClan territory. Could some other Clan help them? Was there any hope? He couldn't see. His eyes squinted against the freezing rain, but he couldn't make anything out through the mist and harsh rainfall. The wind threatened to knock him over if the mud didn't drag him to the ground itself. He hauled Hemlockfox forward with all his strength, but the tom was barely responsive now. The rushing was growing louder and louder, and it almost made Oatfluff pause - what was that? It reminded him of border patrols, of -

Of the gorge. He almost froze where he stood. Hemlockfox seemed to come to consciousness long enough to realize it at the same time as he did. The sky seemed to shatter and split in two as lightning lit up the moor again - only to confirm Oatfluff's worst fears. He skidded to a halt just as he lost his grip on Hemlockfox. His heart blazed with panic. The tom tumbled into the mud, landing dangerously close to the edge. One of the foxes hung on by sheer claws and will at the very edge of the cliff. It scrabbled at the unstable ground, its jaws snapping as it tried desperately to grab ahold of something, anything. Oatfluff's eyes widened as he realized its sights were set on the closest figure - Hemlockfox. His Hemlockfox.

He lunged forward to grab on to the medicine cat's scruff in an instant. The ground wouldn't hold him, though, and he stumbled, nearly slipping and collapsing into the mud alongisde his Clanmate. As he lunged forward again, though, his eyes widened - the fox got there first. "Hemlockfox!" He cried, his yowl loud and panicked over the sound of the thunder. Again, he surged forward. But it was too late. The fox was dragging Hemlockfox down in its efforts to stabilize itself. Oatfluff's stomach lurched as he leapt forward in one last, desperate attempt to grab his friend. His jaws wrapped around fur, but it was too late. Hemlockfox was falling over the edge as Oatfluff grabbed a mouthful of his tail tip. "No!" Fear and grief threatened to knock him to the ground as Hemlockfox tumbled out of his sight in a blur of russet and cream fur. His chest heaved as he watched the emptiness before him. He stared into the gorge, but he could see nothing.

He raised his head to look at the foxes behind him - and only then did he realize where he was. He was standing in the same spot the fox had been struggling to find purchase at. The very edge of certain death. The only things holding him in place were his hind legs. He'd grabbed at the air in his fruitless attempt to grab Hemlockfox without thinking of where he was standing. Now, with nothing to hold on to and nothing left to save, he was only slipping closer and closer to the edge. There was nothing to grab onto, no way to steady himself with all this mud beneath his hind paws. As he scrabbled to grab on to something, anything, he knew it was too late. As thunder boomed overhead, Oatfluff slid over the edge behind Hemlockfox. His paws grabbed desperately at the air around him as he fell, wind rushing in his ears as he fell into the rushing rapids with a loud splash.