Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Show her what a Warrior is, and she'll see. She has to see…

“Swift?!” He called as Sandstorm let the Apprentice's body slip in the center of the clearing. “No, no!”

He raced towards the still body, and Sandstorm’s gaze lifted solemnly towards him as he fell upon the Apprentice. His gaze shakily passed over Swiftpaw's pelt. Many marks of teeth were sunk into his body, with gouging marks strewn across his flank, and his chest sank in where a powerful bite had crushed his ribs. The Apprentice's face was still set in a snarl, eyes half closed and staring endlessly.

He felt a sickening rush poison his body as he loomed over the poor cat.

“w… wh- whhh-” He couldn't choke the first word through his ragged breathing. “What… happened?! Swift, what happened…”

He moaned his words through a sob as Sandstorm stared numbly, with regret in her eyes. “He thought he had to prove himself.” She spoke gently. “He and Brightpaw took the fight to Snakerocks to face the prey-killers. They found them. I am sorry.”

His mouth hung open, rattling with terror. Show her what a Warrior is…

“I… I didn't mean, you… oh my Stars. Oh-” He buried his face deeply against Swiftpaw's fur, no longer certain if it was the tears or his blood that mattered his muzzle as he shook with anguish.

“Longtail, I never thought he would…” Fireheart’s cautious voice came from beside him, and Longtail sat up sharply with a paw raised towards him.

“You don't get to tell me what you thought! Did you care?! Or did you figure another Moon of shame was worth the wait as you play Deputy?!”

“I… I wanted her to understand-” Firestar choked out.

“So did he!” Longtail wailed. “That's all he wanted from her, from you!”

“I don't know what I could've done!” Firestar reasoned as Longtail stared him down with unreasonable grief.

“And I don't know who to hate for this… her!… you… or me-e-” His words shattered as he wept. He took a quick breath as he gazed dully down at his Apprentice. “Leave me be. I need to be alone.”

Firestar nodded sadly and stepped away, as Sandstorm stood slowly from Swiftpaw's body.

“There are many choices in this world we don't get to make–what few we choose are what shape us to who we are–and none but ourselves is to blame for our actions, be they glorious or tragic.”

He lifted his head painfully to stare at her, his eyes lost as she returned his gaze with understanding. “You were proud of him, and he knew he had one cat he did not have to prove himself to. Take heart with the memories you find, and share them equally. He will be alright, and in time–so will you.”

With a dip of her head, she padded away as his gaze trailed after her for a heartbeat. He sat silently for a while as he dreamed of everything they had done. I've been a bitter cat at times, but I thought I… I think I have done right by you as much as I could. Over these past Moons, I admit that I see things a little different because of you. The way you saw the forest, the code, our Clanmates… you could be just as bitter as me, but still bring out the best in any cat, where I didn't think to try. I suppose in the end, you were the only one you could not reason with. I… I would have fought beside you. Now… I promise I'll fight for your memory. I hope you find some lasting peace where you are, among the victorious dead. Farewell, Swift… until our next meeting.

The Apprentice's breath came quickly, turning into desperate moans as panic overtook him. “Bright? Brightpaw? Bright-!”

“Thornpaw, calm down!” She told him briskly as she tried to steady her own heart. “She's breathing, but I need to work!”

“Cinder…” He rasped out. “Not her… oh not her, she has to live!”

“I know!” Cinderpelt snapped before she could catch herself, but Thornpaw didn't look hurt, it was as if he'd hardly heard her. The golden Tom pressed against the wall of the Medicine Den with a low whimper. “I could've gone… I could've-” His voice fell to a squeak as his breath failed him. Cinderpelt felt her fur spike with dread as she fought to keep control of her thoughts. “You would be beside her in this nest, or beside Swiftpaw in the clearing,” she breathed out. “And my heart would shatter before I could do anything about it!”

“Swift!” Thornpaw spat the word out. “I should've dragged him by his-”

“Enough!” She wailed under her breath. “He didn't force her to go! He deserves respect as well.”

Thornpaw looked like he was about to insult the dead Apprentice again, before his maw shook with sorrow. “...why'd she go with him? We had each other… all this for a name?”

“She chose to support her Clanmate,” Cinderpelt murmured. “She chose to be a Warrior.”

She felt her composure failing, and motioned to Thornpaw, trying to keep the wavering from her voice. “Thorn, please give me space, you'll drive us both mad if you don't distract yourself. Go find Ash and Fern, keep them company.”

He hesitated for a moment before numbly nodding his head and stumbling away.

She remembered the look on Ashpaw's face when Swiftpaw was carried into camp. His muzzle had pulled into a silent snarl as his teeth chattered. He had been furious. Fernpaw wailed when she saw Brightpaw's body escorted across the clearing, and she had crouched to the dirt with grief.

“We should've helped them then…”

“Yes.” Ashpaw had growled. “We should have.” Fernpaw shied away from him briefly. She confessed to keeping Ashpaw behind, and she obviously felt Ashpaw resented her for it. But in the next moment, he had turned to his side and dipped his muzzle down to brush over her shoulders. He's a good brother. And she did the right thing as his Sister. Cinderpelt thought to herself as she bent over Brightpaw's body. As a Sister…

She drew in a shaky breath. “Why didn't you tell me?” She choked on her cry as she moaned into her spiked fur. “I would've helped, I swear I would-”

Her chest fluttered as her breathing faltered.

“I will help you–I will keep you from Starclan as long as I can.”

The grey She-cat wept softly before lifting her head, drawing courage into her body. Her voice grew stronger as she studied the dreadful visage–the eye always open, and always closed. She shifted her hind leg softly in memory. We'll carry our scars together… I'll show you how.

She pressed her muzzle against the ginger and white She-cat. Please, Sister… Please come back to me.

The searing flame across his body began to burn out, replaced by a tingling haze as he forgot what the pain felt like. He woke in the grass as if he had slept here the night before, and the one before that–but he knew better–he remembered everything.

“Oh, hello!” A young voice met him as he wearily lifted his head to see a small Tom-Kit whose pelt and eyes stopped his heart for a moment. The Kit looked just like him.

“Was waitin' to meet you!” The Kit spoke happily as Swiftpaw propped himself up with confusion.

“What…? Who are you?” He struggled to understand why this Kit was here at all, let alone interested in him.

“Oh,” The Kit began again. “I wanted to see you! We kinda share a bit of… well, how we got here.”

The Kit shrugged sheepishly as Swiftpaw blinked in unease. “We do?”

“Yeah…" The Kit mewed. “I died trying to prove I could be a Warrior! Although if I were born in your Clan, I think I'd still have been a Kit… but you kinda did the same, just the other way! You already were one, and you wanted them to see.”

Swiftpaw understood at least a little. “You… you were one of Brokenstar's, a Shadowclan Kit?”

The little Kit nodded, but soon spoke up. “But I'm not really a Kit anymore, I am called Badgerfang now! My Mentor said I earned it.” The little Warrior's voice dropped solemnly there, and Swiftpaw swallowed hard. Does Longtail feel the same?

Badgerfang appeared to have heard his thoughts somehow, because he bounced by the old Apprentice eagerly. “You showed the same bravery, and it showed me: I am not alone! We both showed what we were worth, just in different ways! I wanted to show what I could be, and you showed who you were!”

But the memories hit Swiftpaw far too suddenly, and a dark image entered his mind. He didn't meet Badgerfang's gaze.

“I got my friend killed. Where's the bravery in that?” He slowly looked around, expecting to see her lying somewhere.

“Mm-mm,” Badgerfang murmured. “Not yet!”

Swiftpaw's gaze lifted sharply. “...She lived?” His words were only air as he hardly dared hope, and partly was unsure if it would be worth it. He remembered her face.

Badgerfang jumped softly and bounded away down the meadow into a low dip, where Swiftpaw stood and peered down. There was a gentle pool, hardly a few tail-lengths across, and Badgerfang flicked his tail and ears as he sat beside it.

Swiftpaw quickly slipped down to join him, bewildered at what he was being shown. “How can you tell…? Starclan can see us… them… right? How?”

“Reflection!” The little Warrior chirped happily, staring down into the pool. “Takes practice to get it to show you want ya want, but I can do it for you this time!"

The little round pool was hardly a few pawsteps deep, and was recessed in a hollow of dark stone.

Swiftpaw watched in shock as the waters of the pool rippled outward from the center as if a rock had struck it, and the rippling edge brimmed with white light. In the middle, under a thin sheet of water, the surface was as radiant as the Moonstone, but he could see right through the shimmering rock.

He was looking at a patch of forest he didn't recognize, before Twoleg nests became visible on one side.

What am I looking at?

“Cloudtail… Princess looked as if she were scared of me. I want-" She swallowed back a choking fear. "I want to see myself… is there a puddle nearby I can look into?”

The white Tom at her side cast a small few glances around, before he gestured softly. "Come with me."

He had been everything she could have asked him to be, and she had no idea what that would be. He had spent every day and night at her side, whispering friendly words when she couldn't lift her head, and standing up for her against every struggle she faced now.

She thought at first she would have to ask him why–she was confused when she heard the passion in his voice.

But once they finally could talk and listen to one another, he asked her for nothing, and expected nothing. In his eyes then was the only thing shining within them now: Respect, Admiration, and Fear. His affection was real, and it was fine. She finds that she is no longer certain what she feels about it.

As Cloudtail slowed to a stop, he gave a small breath and looked at her carefully. He didn't bother asking if she was sure–he knew she needed this.

There, a small pool lay amidst the roots of an old tree, and she cast her image upon its waters.

Her one good eye closed tight with apprehension. All she could hear was her heart screaming not to look. You'll hate yourself. You'll hide away, won't you?

But then a memory came to her, soft and sweet, and it was spoken with more love than it once was–not burdened with fear.

You cannot begin to appreciate life, until you are willing to look death in the eye.

Her heart raced as she felt the tugging burn of the side she saw as void.

Shy away from death, and life will shy away from you.

Her breath sounded in her ears are her heart slowed, and she opened her eye gently, and saw the truth.

A deep recession went into her skull where the blood had clotted as a barrier, and her eyelids were nearly shredded. Her right ear was nothing more than a few torn strands glued against her matted scalp–at least it didn't glisten now that the blood had dried. A gash began at her muzzle where her canine showed through with a molar further back, and it carried across her cheek where its bite had slipped. Around the gash was the rest of it–a second skin of dried crimson matted into what little fur was on that side of her face, and the way it sloped by the side of her head told her that the flesh had peeled from underneath–it would heal with a dip at that spot. The dreadful visage all mostly ended below her upper jaw, but it didn't matter anyway–it was still enough.

Her gaze fell numb as the pressure still pulsed in her head. She swallowed briefly, and blinked once.

"Now I see." She whispered. "I'm sorry if the other cats feel upset when they look at me."

"You're still beautiful to me," Cloudtail gently lapped the raw flesh with slow licks. "You always will be."

She lifted her head slowly to the trees, and listened for their song. Now they sang with every leaf and every branch–every critter on the ground, every bird in the sky–the water in the roots and the sunlight on the flowers.

I can hear you now. I understand. I am sorry I had to lose so much to do it. But now I have gained something as well–I am at peace with the world, if not myself. Maybe… in time.

In her reflection, she could feel the strangest sensation, like a memory come to greet her. She placed a paw gently upon the image of her face, feeling the damp set into her pads.

Goodbye, Swiftpaw. I hold no regrets, only sorrow. Be at peace.

I take the regrets for myself. Swiftpaw felt the water burn at his pad as her image stepped away in silence. I would give you my peace.

As the image of her face burned into his mind, his breath trembled and shattered and he fell back on the grass with a thud, his eyes burning with grief.

Oh Stars… what have I done? His head collapsed into his paws as his body convulsed with anguish.

“I'm sorry.” Badgerfang murmured softly.

“Do not feel sorrow for showing your bravery, either of you.” A new voice spoke nearby as Swiftpaw glanced up with ragged breathing. A grey tom stood beside Badgerfang, towering over the little Kit, but his gaze was welcoming and wise as he watched the Thunderclan Apprentice.

“I know how you feel–I have walked in your paws, and that of your Mentor,” He padded beside him and sat down gently. “And I can see what troubles you both.”

Swiftpaw gave a resentful huff. “It is… far too soon for a ‘come to Starclan’ talk right now.”

The grey tom nodded softly. “It may be. But it is never too soon to have someone who will listen–a friend in misery, and someday contentment.”

Swiftpaw gave a shake of his head in uncertainty. “Why do you care? I don't know you.”

He knew he was being unfair, but the memories in his heart were too loud to care. The grey Tom did not take offense as he gazed at the pool.

“Perhaps I shouldn't. But Badgerfang saw you first. He saw a cat willing to do anything to make his Clan proud, to make them see, and he came running to my paws like he has so many times.” He gave a breath of amusement. “He could feel the strife in your Spirit as you faded here, and he asked me to help you understand.”

“And what do you feel about it yourself?” Swiftpaw asked under his breath, doubtful at the cat's intentions.

The grey tom hummed in acknowledgement. “I think we all deserve someone to tell us that the world isn't as dark as we make it. Longtail believes he is responsible for your choices–he told you to show your Leader what a Warrior is, and now fears you obeyed.”

Swiftpaw drew in a breath against his will as his thoughts raced. “N-no, I didn't do it for that… he thinks he did this?” He choked on his words. “No… no you have to tell him that isn't true!”

“I wish someone would have told me,” the grey Tom spoke sadly. “But I fear I wouldn't believe it if they had.”

Swiftpaw swallowed in apprehension. “You were Badgerfang's Mentor…?”

The grey tom nodded softly. “Flintfang, Blackfoot’s Brother. I kept my voice strong as I gave Badgerpaw courage. I knew in my heart what I'd done, and I told myself I had not–all the way until I was standing in his blood.”

His voice had dropped near a whisper, as Badgerfang sat a few tail-lengths away, his head bowed in understanding. Flintfang set a paw over Swiftpaw's shoulder, and the Apprentice flinched when he imagined the Pack Leader’s jaws crushing the air from his lungs.

“I spent my courage on the battlefield, and brought him to camp in my jaws as a Mother would, and I felt disgust in my heart. Like Longtail, I believed myself responsible for what had happened to him. Like you, I cursed myself for taking him. He had to pay for the failures of cats who should have known better, and I was one of them.”

He ran his paw slowly over Swiftpaw's spine. “Half your life is spent making choices–and what's left is spent wondering why you made them. There rarely is time to find an answer, so we look for something to give it.”

Flintfang looked towards Badgerfang with a thoughtful expression. “But we ask for a thing that cannot be.”

Swiftpaw fixed him with a confused glance as Flintfang looked back to him. “No words we can say or hear will heal our pain. There are no truths or signs to suggest we are wrong to doubt ourselves, or that we are right to.“

He looked down upon Swiftpaw, who stared at the grass. “Two cats can know loss and be given the same answer as to why–one may laugh and take comfort in memories, and the other may weep as their world turns to grey.”

Swiftpaw's eyes searched the land for something beyond thought as Flintfang’s words cut into his heart. “If you mean to find an answer that will make the pain fade away–I tell you now that your time may as well be spent searching the endless stars for whichever shines the least–you will never find it, because you cannot see it.”

Swiftpaw took a deep breath as his gaze came back to reality, and he watched the ripples in the shallow pool. “Then I have no idea what I'm supposed to do but grieve.”

“Then,” Flintfang replied. “That is what you must do. Not all tears are an evil, and they deserve our respect.”

Badgerfang nestled up between them as Flintfang spoke kindly. “The only answer you will find, is the one you give to the question of your heart. Will you swim against the current and try to find where you started… or will you trust them, and go where they take you? I have seen both work, and I have seen both fail.”

Swiftpaw felt a flicker of warmth as the small Warrior pressed up beside him.

“None can tell you which path to take, for even the very wise cannot see all ends. But those who mean the most to you will stand by your side no matter the path you choose.”

He touched his muzzle between Swiftpaw's ears. “Longtail will fight the same battle as you, and you cannot make his choices for him, but you can stand by him for whatever comes. There are many choices in this world you do not get to make… but this one is yours.”

Swiftpaw breathed slowly as his maw hung open. The strange scents of the land washed over him as he felt the turmoil in his heart. I chose the wrong path before, and others suffered for it. Can I truly make the right one now?

All this for one lousy mouse. He chuckled in the darkness as his mind drifted in the abyss. Better me than you, Mousefur, I wouldn't dream of it.

The first time he felt his limbs again were when the warm sun basked them in golden light, and he hardly could recall opening his eyes–all they saw was silver and green before he knew it.

Is it just Starclan… or do I find the world more beautiful because I have missed it for so long? You can take my ears and my nose, and the whiskers right from my muzzle. I am content just to see a world like this again.

“I bet moss would be more comfortable than the grass–if you're up to gathering it!”

The amused voice shocked him still as he recognized it. Actually… I think I'll keep the ears as well.

He stood up slowly as he watched the white and black Tom padded softly across the meadow, with warm amber eyes focused on him. He began to chuckle to himself softly as joy overcame any grief he carried here.

“I don't know… the grass truly does have an appeal to it.” He huffed in amusement as the black and white Tom smiled knowingly.

“Well,” the Tom began. “I think you've earned this one! If you want a nest in Starclan, you take it.”

He found himself laughing with joyful memory. “You know… unlike a certain cat I used to know… I think I will take that offer.”

Swiftpaw smiled warmly as Longtail walked beside him, forevermore.