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[fancypost bgcolor= #262626; borderwidth= 0px; width: 470px; height: 10px; text-align:left; font-family:courier; color: #BDBDBD]If he knew who I was...[/fancypost]
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The supposed 'forbidden relationship' between Skypelt and Birdcry had to have been worse...to him, they always had been. How no one, even his own Father Rabbitears hadn't felt so hurt him beyond repair. He hadn't ever been a breeder, even after their clan's numbers had dwindled down he was left in a state of shock when Nightflower vaguely mentioned that they should probably spend a little time with a she-cat. He remembered swiping at the pale point for it, hissing, spitting, attempting to dig his claws in and tear fur.
'What, back already?' he'd purr with ease, stretching with a content purr of amusement in his throat as he tossed his head back. 'Told you she'd not as good as what we've got. Was it really over that quick?' He was willing to forgive and forget if the younger still wasn't sore about their scuffle.
At the sight of who had come in, his stomach would drop. His nephew. It had been his own nephew who trailed into the den that night. It wasn't Bracken's, so he could have only imagined what business he might have kept in store for Nightflower should they both would have been found here. Ears flicked back as hisses of accusation were finally turned to his face, all the malice that had building up from a lifetime of whispers behind his back finally exploding as he leapt at the younger male.
'You weren't even supposed to be born! You want to talk about bastardization? Look at your own flesh and demand to know why your Father laid with his mentor when he was younger than you are right now!' He had pinned the other, and he'd never forget the look of shock on his face. It wasn't a story that had been a secret, but maybe it was something about hearing it directly from kin that made the other look dazed. 'He fought valiantly for his clan and raised you lot. Birdcry was forgiven. I've spent every day of my life fighting for The Clan of Sights, and I bare more scars than you and he combined-' His claws scored down, tearing into the cheek of his kin. 'So don't you dare prance in here and demand moralities of me!'
He turned his back on his kin and planned to storm out. What was he going to do after that? He had already lashed out to two of the only family he had left. There was no time for regrets, as he made it to the mouth of the cave a wild yowl resounded from behind him, the weight of the larger tom forcing his belly into the cold earth. He scrabbled in attempts to fight him off, that's when he felt the lock of jaws around the back of his neck. It was not the playful tug of scruff or what someone may do if they were trying to toss another aside, this was a tight grip on his spine like they were taught to snatch rabbits.
The cracking of his bones was felt in slow motion, the weight of his skull hitting stone enough to make him loose consciousness. This is where he should have died, but he had the unfortunate opportunity of being a sloppy first kill. Where bone had been broken his spinal cord had remained, keeping him aware and unable to move as his body was dragged to the riverside. There was no feeling of pain or pressure as he was abandoned against the muddy earth, wide eyes permanently fixated on the edge of the forest as his breath was slow and careful. His plan was to play dead until the younger stalked off, but after he did so Bracken was left with the terrifying realization that he had been paralyzed by the assault. He laid there for the rest of the night, vision pleading the treeline to give way to a patrol. He had never experienced such a long day in his life, nor felt so many thoughts enter his mind. He had prayed to Starclan asking for forgiveness, repenting for all the sins he had the time to go through. No answer came to save him. By nightfall he got his final wish, a large looking shadow padding along somewhere behind him. Though he never saw the face, he could scent his murderer as the other male came to finish disposing the body, a dissatisfied grunt coming from him as he shoved the tabby into the icy cold water.
This is where Brackenwing had finally met his end, drowning as the rush of the river swept his body away.
How many moons ago was that? There was no way for the spirit to know.
'Brackenwing, where is Loverslock?'
His pelt shook with grief, the male looking over the cliffside. Who knew that he could really be this weak? This body...it was hard for him to remember all the details of his life, but this body just wasn't his. It was soft, female, and lacked all of the hard muscle he had spent a lifetime achieving. He...mentally he was a male, and this was the heaven that he and Nightflower had worked so hard to get to. But...that wasn't reality, was it? He hadn't wanted to die, he hadn't wanted to move on, and so to again he had selfishly jumped into the body of a weaker soul. This was her body he was inhabiting, and perhaps the greatest sin he had done in his whole life.
This was wrong. Life was for the living, but he was not. He had died a long time ago, he should have remained so-!
'Brackenwing!' There- the voices were back! The male looked fearfully behind him, letting out a sheepish whine as a dark figure seemed to loom from the shadows. All too quickly it was like he was along the bankside again waiting, wishing for death, pelt prickling as he came to recognize the sight of the spirit as his murderer.
He squeaked and closed his eyes, covering his ears with his paws. This wasn't real. This wasn't real! He was alive- no, no he wasn't! H-He deserved to be here, had earned the trust of many-!
'You deserve death!'
"Stop it! Leave me alone!" his stance wavered, but he didn't open his eyes. The voices in his head grew louder and louder, deafening into a roar. A piercing feeling tore between his shoulder blades, causing the Paragon to let out a shrill cry as he quickly backed away and tried to shake whatever it was off. He was wrong though, ghosts couldn't hurt anyone- let alone the delusions inside your own head. Claws dug into the back of his own ears, drawing blood as his back leg lost footing on the edge of the cliff side behind him. Eyes would open wide with shock as he found himself clinging desperately to the edge of the jagged rock, tensing as he felt the ghostly presence of his own imagination charging towards him.
No, not again! Never again! He wasn't going to let himself go out of the world like this! Brackenwing would let go of the rock and let himself free fall down to his doom, the pain in his shoulders finally ripping free. Wings, he had been growing wings for what must have been days, but they had sprout too soon and too late for him to even think to put them to use. The bloody appendages hung loosely at his side as his form rushed towards the earth, body hitting the ragged rocks at the water side with a dull thump. Just like before, he didn't seem to have the luck or good graces of falling unconcious. His body was beaten, bloody and broken on the edge of a rough sheet of rock, water from the lake lapping at his toes as he let out a moan of pain. Dying, he was going to die. He was so damn sure he was going to die that he actually felt deep seated resentment as he felt a mix of powers he still didn't understand attempting to heal him, forge broken bones back together. This wasn't heaven...this was hell! The Paragon would scream with pain from his spot, unable to move as he was practically frozen to the unspoken will of time control, molecule manipulations, and conjurations attempting to put the tom back together again.
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[fancypost bgcolor= #262626; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 470px; height: 10px; text-align:right; font-family:courier; color: #BDBDBD]...he'd stop looking for me, and he wouldn't be mine anymore![/fancypost]
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[size=6pt]★ trek