[open] full of sound and fury (SIGNIFYING NOTHING)

SWIFTFOOT AWOKE THAT MORNING WITH A GASP.

THERE WAS A BLUR TO HER VISION, EDGES OF RED THAT STRUCK LIKE HAZY CLAWS AROUND HER PERIPHIAL, AND FOR THE BRIEFEST OF MOMENTS, WINDCLAN'S VICIOUS DEPUTY LOOKED TRULY AFRAID; OPTICS WERE STRETCHED WIDE, A LONG BROWN TAIL QUIVERED, AND HACKLES PRESSED UP AGAINST A RAGGED BROWN PELT, UNSHEATHED CLAWS CURLING DEEP INTO THE DIRT BENEATH. THERE WAS THE BAYING AND HOWLING OF DOGS ECHOING WITHIN HER SENSITIVE EARS, A YOWL, A RATTLING HISS - AND THEN SILENCE, SO ENDLESS, SO DEEP, THAT SWIFTFOOT, IN HER BLEARY MORNING THOUGHTS, FELT SURE THAT SHE MUST BE DEAD.

BUT SOON THE REALM OF REALITY POURED OVER HER SENSES; DREAMS FADED INTO A DISTANT MEMORY, VISION CLEARED AND GREEN EYES GLINTED UNDER A SHARPLY KNITTED BROW. HER FEATURES RELAXED; TORN GASPS OF BREATH SETTLED INTO A SLOW, CALM RHYTHM, CLAWS RETRACTED FROM THE HARSHLY KNEADED EARTH. STILL, HER HEART RACED WITHIN HER CHEST; INCESSANT, PAINFUL. MEMORIES OF THE CITY ITCHED AT THE VERY CREVICES OF HER MIND, MEMORIES OF STONE AND GINGER AND LILY AND LOTUS, OH, DEAR LOTUS, WHOM HAD NEVER EVEN BEEN GIVEN A CHANCE AT LIFE...

sometimes her sleep was dreamless; a dark, gaping abyss, warm, comforting, quiet as the fourtrees were at sunhigh. but then there were nights - rare nights, mind you, occurring once in a blue moon  - WHEN THE NIGHTMARES WOULD STRIKE LIKE THE BARED FANGS OF AN ENEMY WARRIOR. SWIFTFOOT TRIED NOT TO THINK OF HER LIFE BEFORE WINDCLAN ANYMORE; AFTER ALL, IT WAS THE PAST, AND WHOM COULD CHANGE THE PAST? HER MOTTO WAS ALL ABOUT MOVING FORWARD - FIGHTING THROUGH EACH AND EVERY DIFFICULTY, OF PREVAILING OVER EVEN THE TOUGHEST OF CHALLENGES.

...SO WHY DID HER EARS NOW RING WITH THE DYING SCREAM OF GINGER, AS SHE SUNK HOOKED TALONS INTO HIS MAW? WHY DID THE TINGLING SCENT OF ACRID FUMES TICKLE AT HER NOSE, A WISP OF A TIME LONG, LONG AGO, AND YET IT FELT SO RECENT, SO NEAR, ALL THE SAME?

WHY COULDN'T SHE FORGET THE CITY, AND PRETEND THAT PART OF HER LIFE HAD NEVER HAPPENED?

SHE WASN'T WINDCLAN, NO - CARRIED NOT EVEN A MOUSE NAIL OF CLAN BLOOD. BUT OVER THE MOONS SHE'D DEVELOPED INTO A FINE WARRIOR, AT LEAST, SHE LIKED TO THINK SO. PARTAKING IN BATTLES, UPHOLDING HER CLAN'S HONOR, EVEN ADVANCING ONTO THE RANK OF DEPUTY UNDER REDSTAR'S STRONG REIGN. SHE'D DONE ALL OF THAT - SO WHY COULDN'T SHE LEAVE THE PAST back WHERE IT BELONGED...?

AND THEN SHE THOUGHT OF STONE ONCE MORE, AND HER LIP CURLED IN distaste.

THE SOUND OF SOFT PAWSTEPS ALERTED SWIFTFOOT. FROM HER BEDDING AT THE VERY EDGE OF CAMP, SHE COULD SEE THE PALLID GINGER PELT OF SANDPAW. HE'D BEEN ACTING...OFF, THESE PAST FEW DAYS, THOUGH AS IF IT WAS MUCH concern to this prickly she-cat. usually the deputy wouldn't at all bother with training the other apprentices of windclan, unless that apprentice was her own. (and timberpaw was hardly the greatest excuse for an apprentice.) but her paws were practically itching to move, her muscles begging to be stretched.

dark optics glanced back up, at the dip where sandpaw had disappeared over. there was that familiar crash of bitterness, something she felt frequently nowadays, if she had to be honest with herself; these young cats, born to purebred windclanners, living their lives without having to prove their worth, without experiencing trouble beyond a failure of a hunt. she felt it again, that surge of anger, that buildup of bile in her chest. she couldn't stop the thought from entering her head - how different would life have been if i were born here? - but quickly, too quickly, she pushed it away. no. she couldn't ponder over improbabilities.

...ah, she really was broody today.

with a final snort it seemed swiftfoot had reached a decision. the deputy unfurled her back in a rippling stretch, and shook out her thin, tattered excuse for a pelt. she needed fresh air - she needed freedom, away from the suffocating hollow of camp, away from her other warriors. she needed...a mission. yes, a mission, that would do her well. something akin to what she'd assigned cormorantfur mere days before.

sandpaw was nearing his warrior ceremony. perhaps he could do with a test. feeling slightly sated with a goal to occupy her thoughts, windclan's ferocious senior warrior was at once picking her way over the sleeping forms of her campmates. soon she'd scrambled to the top of her dip and was tracing sandpaw's distinct scent pattern through the heather.

darkness waned to the hazy pink of dawn. a cool breeze rustled the grass, carrying the thick smells of the moor on its back. she heaved in a deep breath, savoring the sting of her lungs, and soon she was running, ducking and dipping through the thick underbrush, wriggling her way through burrows and popping up mere moments later.

she kept downwind of sandpaw, carefully tracing the apprentice's every move, pupils dilated to wide orbs as she took in his every movement. as she took in the ripple of his muscles beneath soft fur, the deputy couldn't help realizing just how...well...confident he looked. he'd always been the ambitious sort - headstrong and argumentative, the type that she hated with the burning passion of a thousand suns. but these past few days, no, these past two days, well, he'd almost retreated, lost his light, even.

SUDDENLY SHE STOPPED, ONE PAW HOVERING IN MID AIR. THERE WAS A RUSTLE, AN EXPLOSION, AND SUDDENLY SANDPAW WAS RUNNING. COME ON, THE SHE-CAT THOUGHT TO HERSELF, ALMOST SURPRISED AT HER OWN SUPPORT OF THE YOUNG CAT, COME ON, JUST A BIT FURTHER...!

TOO LATE. A BLUR OF PAWS, A WHOOSH OF AIR - SANDPAW HAD FALLEN, THE RABBIT HAD ESCAPED, AND QUIETNESS HAD BEFALLEN THE MOORS ONCE MORE. THERE WAS A MOMENT OF SILENCE, BEFORE SANDPAW WAS ON HIS FEET AGAIN, SCREECHING, "FILTHY PIECE OF FOXDUNG! YOU PROBABLY TASTE LIKE CROWFOOD ANYWAY!"

HER PAWS MOVED BEFORE HER BRAIN COULD FULLY PROCESS THE ACTION. SWIFTFOOT EMERGED FROM A THICK CLUMP OF HEATHER JUST TO SANDPAW'S SIDE, HER GAZE GRAZING OVER THE YOUNG TOM, THE TIP OF HER TAIL TWITCHING EVERY SO OFTEN. SHE WAS GOING TO SCOLD HIM, GOING TO LECTURE HIM, MOCK HIM EVEN - ANYTHING TO UNLEASH THIS GROWING ANGER INSIDE OF HER, THIS BITTERNESS OVER A TIME LONG PAST - BUT SOMETHING HELD HER IN HER TRACKS.

SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHY, BUT...WELL, THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT SANDPAW THAT STRUCK A CHORD WITH SWIFTFOOT. OH, YOU'D BE CAUGHT DEAD HER EVER ADMITTING SUCH A THING, AND IN TRUTH THE COLD HEARTED DEPUTY HARDLY UNDERSTOOD IT MUCH HERSELF. INSTEAD OF TALKING, SHE FELL QUIET, HER SOCIAL AWKWARDNESS REARING ITS HEAD - AFTER ALL, SWIFTFOOT WAS PRACTICALLY BUILT FOR MOCKERY AND HARSH QUIPS. WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO SAY IN LIFE BESIDES THAT?

FINALLY SHE SEEMED TO HAVE GRASPED HER VOICE, HER THICK RUMBLE EDGED WITH SLIGHT UNCERTAINTY, A RARE SHOW FOR THE USUALLY CONFIDENT WINDCLAN DEPUTY. "THERE'S ALWAYS...ALWAYS NEXT -" UGH, WHY WERE NICE THINGS SO HARD TO SAY? THE WORDS WERE RIGHT ON THE TIP OF HER TONGUE, AND YET THEY WERE SCALDING HOT. BLEH, PUKING UP CHIPPER NONSENSE LIKE THIS - IT WAS HARDLY HER STYLE. SWIFTFOOT SHOOK HER HEAD, A FRUSTRATED SNORT ESCAPING HER NOSTRILS. AT ONCE HER HARSHER DEMEANOR WAS BACK IN PLACE. "DIDN'T YOUR MENTOR TEACH YOU ANYTHING? TRIPPING OVER YOUR PAWS IS HARDLY A WAY TO CATCH A RABBIT."

SHE WAS CONFUSED - SHE ALWAYS WAS. PESSIMISTIC, ANGRY, AFRAID - SWIFTFOOT SAW THE WORLD AS A DARK, DARK PLACE, AND THAT CERTAINLY WAS NO LIE. SUDDENLY SHE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN ANYMORE. THE WORDS ESCAPED BEFORE SHE COULD EVEN BEGIN TO THINK THEM THROUGH, THE RAGE AND CONFUSION FINALLY GRASPING ONTO AN OUTLET; "WHAT, YOU THINK A DUMB LIL RABBIT'S GONNA COME TRIPPING INTO YOUR CLAWS? YOU THINK IT'S GONNA LIE DOWN AT YOUR FEET AND BEG YOU TO TAKE ITS LIFE? START HUNTING LIKE A REAL WARRIOR FOR STARCLAN'S SAKE!" SHE AT ONCE ASSUMED THE HUNTING CROUCH, HACKLES PRESSED TOGETHER, NECK OUTSTRETCHED, MUSCLES READY. "PAWS AT THE READY. KEEP YOUR TAIL STILL. BE AWARE OF THE BREEZE, IT CAN CHANGE AT ANY MOMENT! EYES AND EARS ALWAYS ON THE LOOKOUT! YOU NEED TO PROVIDE FOR YOUR cLAN, SO FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION! ARE YOU FOLLOWING, SANDKIT?"

SHE DIDN'T CARE IF SHE'D NEVER BE TRULY WINDCLAN. IT...IT DIDN'T MATTER. SHE DIDN'T NEED CLAN BLOOD, SHE DIDN'T NEED TO BE RAISED IN THEIR NURSERY WITH DUMB LITTLE KITS. SHE DIDN'T EVEN NEED TO BE LIKED BY HER OWN CLANMATES. NO, NO, SHE WAS FINE ON HER OWN! ONCE A LONER, ALWAYS A LONER.

...AND YET THE THOUGHT STUNG DEEPER THAN ANY SHARP THORN.