"Bluestar." Whitestorm forced his voice to be strong as his world began to crash around him. "What will happen to Tigerclaw now?"

"Kill him!"

"Blind him!"

"Drive him out of the forest!"

The words swarm around the white warriors head. He wanted to close his eyes, an attempt to block out the yowls, but instead he held a steady gaze with the beaten warrior across the clearing from him, gleaming amber eyes burrowing into his brain.

The gaze broke only when Tigerclaw swung his head around, answering a question Bluestar had asked that Whitestorm had been too dazed too hear.

"I would have brought back the days of Tigerclan." He heard the strong, thick voice growl. There was more murmuring. Whitestorm wondered if anyone would notice if he dug himself a small burrow and rotted in the middle of the clearing.

Movement. Whitestorm hadn't realized his eyes had closed, and he looked again to see Tigerclaw approaching Darkstripe.

"Whitestorm?" Willowpelt leaned towards him, her eyes round with concern. "Are you ok? Were you hurt badly in the battle? You look ill?" Whitestorm barely heard the she-cat, eyes fixed in the flickering look of uncertainty on Tigerclaw's face as Longtail turned him away. "Whitestorm?" Willowpelt insisted, taking a step closer.

If she touched Whitestorm, he feared he himself might crumble in that instant, so he opened his mouth, watching Dustpelt stand nose to nose against the massive tabby.

"Well said, youngster." He murmured, then turned to Willowpelt, feigning a curious expression. Her posture had relaxed, however, and she sat next to him, tail curled around her paws.

Would he ask me? Whitestorm wondered. The thought was quickly dismissed.

Before Whitestorm could focus again from the ridiculous idea, Tigerclaw had disappeared through the tunnel. Had Whitestorm missed an amber glance? He felt the clan begin to rustle and wake around him, like a waking bees nest.

"What's wrong with being a kittypet?" He heard a small voice and turned to see Cloudpaw arguing with Darkstripe.

Now was not the time for selfishness.

Stepping between them, Whitestorm growled "That's enough. Bluestar will make the decision." Decision of what, Whitestorm wasn't sure. It was like the warriors of Lionclan were bellowing in his ears. Nothing seemed to be making sense.

Struggling, Whitestorm made his way to the entrance of camp, glancing over his shoulder once before following the scent of blood out.

He couldn't have gone far.

Nervous, ears swivelling, Whitestorm pushed forward, following the scent.

Mouse brain. What are you doing? He won't want to see you. He tried to kill Bluestar! He-

Whitestorm stopped in his tracks, gazing at the bundle of dark brown tabby fur a few rabbit lengths ahead of him.

Tigerstar had flopped down in the ferns and was breathing heavily, his flank rising and falling as rapidly as Whitestorm's heart beat.

He was dying, Whitestorm was sure.

Almost without permission, Whitestorm's paws carried him forward, and he was soon licking the tabby warrior's wounds.

He expected a snarl or a slash of powerful claws, but the tom made no movement, only seeming to focus on breathing.

Slowly, as Whitestorm eased his wounds into submission, the tom raised his head, eyes slightly narrowed.

"Why did you follow me?" he growled.

"Why didn't you ask me?" Whitestorm responded quietly, still nursing a particularly deep wound on the tabby's flank.

Tigerclaw said nothing, but Whitestorm could feel his eyes fixed on his white pelt. He could practically smell the confusion on him.

"I was going to kill her." He growled. It was Whitestorm's turn to be silent. The wound had almost slowed under his passive tongue. "Are you listening? I would have killed her." He repeated. "And then that rancid kittypet. And then… you." Whitestrom hesitated, but Tigerclaw continued. "You could have been my deputy." Whitestorm looked up, staring hard at Tigerclaw.

"Bluestar is practically my mother. What makes you think I would want to follow you after you killed her?" Whitestorm narrowed his eyes curiously. A sly smirk spread across Tigerclaw's pained expression.

"Because you followed me here." Whitestorm could only flatten his ears. He had nothing to retort over this, because it was true. "Keep following me. You can come with me. We can live together, outside of the clans." He growled, leaning forward, allowing his whiskers to brush against Whitestorm's. The white tom could practically feel his heart tear apart within him. To choose between his clan, Bluestar… and Tigerclaw.

"Why didn't you ask me before?" He asked. Tigerclaw didn't respond again. "Do you even want me to come with you?" Tigerclaw snorted, but still said nothing. Whitestorm got to his paws. Tigerclaw's breathing had slowed, and he too lifted himself to his massive feet.

"Watch over my children." A distant look took over Tigerclaw's face, and Whitestorm realized he was remembering something long ago. "They still deserve a father." Tigerclaw focused back on to Whitestorm, and took a breath. "Whitestorm, I-"

"Whitestorm!" The voice shocked Whitestorm out of his trance, watching Tigerclaw. The dark tabby tom hesitated for only a moment, but it seemed like an eternity to Whitestorm.

Their eyes locked and a silent exchange occurred. Whitestorm could only respond by squeezing his eyes shut and looking away, lashing his tail. He couldn't leave his clan, not in their time of need.

He didn't watch Tigerclaw leave.

"Whitestorm, there you are." Whitestorm recognized the voice of Sandstorm, his old apprentice. He turned to her and she hesitated, a confused expression crossing her face. "Is everything- no, of course, nothing is ok.." She shook her head, berating herself. "What are you doing out here?"

"Making sure that piece of fox dung was out of our territory." Whitestorm murmured, staring at his paws.

"Did you fight him? Are you hurt?" Sandstorm nervously approached the tom, sensing something was different about him.

"No, I'm fine." Whitestorm looked up and braced himself, steeling his entire body. "Let's go back to camp. Bluestar needs us." Sandstorm nodded, and trotted away back to the camp.

Whitestorm hesitated before following her, turning back just once to look at the still-trembling ferns. He didn't know what he expected- a flash of amber, a glimpse of a thick, tabby pelt- but he saw nothing.

Tigerclaw was gone.