One Life for a Coward

      The silence of the night was choking, death seemed to hold more ambiance. No music of crickets, not a squeak from any nocturnal rodent, nor a cry of an owl. Even the nightly breeze had died to match the eerie stillness.
      The brown tom felt as though he would explode from the lack of noise. Something, anything, would be welcomed, he thought. Even the chilling howls of the coyotes he was named after; if just to break the silence.
      He looked at the cat curled next to him, her calico coat pressed into his dark tabby fur. Was she as tormented as he? Did she feel the stillness like a cold stare, did she regret everything that had transpired in the last few days as much as he had? Was life playing behind her closed lids like a nightmare, just as it was to his waking eyes?
      He watched her sides rise and fall to her breathing, calm and rhythmic like one deep in sleep. Perhaps he was alone in his guilt. Well, as far as nature was concerned. The woods they now dwelled in held little prey, and, even when they did manage to catch a meal, it was gangly and thin. So the two cats felt empty most of the time, just as the tom did now.
      Yellowed eyes moved from the she-cat and out into the night forest. Was this how they were to live out the rest of their lives? Weighed by guilt, slowed by hunger, and sleeping under rotting branches and loam?
      It was then that the stilled silence was broken by a flash as lightning flared across the sky. It was soon followed by a roll of thunder.
      “Well, so much for a good night’s sleep”, the she-cat meowed, her nose still tucked under her paws.
      The tom stayed as he was for a few more moments, ears twitching as the wind picked up and more thunder growled in the distance. Then, laying his head on his paws, he closed his eyes as the rain began to fall, adding to the misery in his heart.


      “Coyotewhisker.”
      The tom opened his yellow eyes, ears perked at the call of his name. His heart raced. He hadn’t heard that voice in seasons, since he was an apprentice. And now he was afraid to lift his head and face it’s owner. The sound of the nightly storm was gone and he couldn’t feel the calico she-cat next to him. Where was he?
      “Coyotewhisker.”
      The tom closed his eyes and turned his head. When he opened them he felt his blood run cold. A young black she-cat sat in front of him, her dark amber eyes shone with the light of stars. But they also burned with anger and hurt. “Crowpaw”, he breathed.
      Crowpaw shook her head, ears laid back, “Why?”
      “I-I..”, what could he say to her… to help her understand. What pain he felt was doubled when she turned her eyes from him. “There was a time when all you could talk about was how you would die for your clan. You were ambitious and hungry for the place of a warrior. How you would go on and on about the battles and patrols of your future. And now..” She locked her amber gaze with his yellowed one. “Now you wallow in self-pity and guilt. You, who could recite the code with pride, now reduced to.. to this”, she spat, her whole being ablaze with anger.
      Coyotewhisker shrank at her words, even more at her harsh demeanor. She was right in every word. What had he done?
      Crowpaw’s gaze softened and she bent down to nuzzle the tom’s tabby head. “I’m sorry, Coyotewhisker, I really am.”
      “Why? I am the one who has turned my back on my clan, my family”, he meowed softly, eyes lowered, taking in her familiar scent. The scent of his sister who had died a moon before their Warrior naming. If only they could have traded places; perhaps the clans would have been better off without him.
      “I deserve this.”
      “Yes, you do.” Crowpaw pulled away to look at Coyotewhisker’s shocked features, “That is why I am sorry. I don’t want for you to hear what I am about to say. But I’d rather it be me than someone else.”
      Coyotewhisker could only stare at the amber orbs gazing down at him, so full of pain and heartache. What did she mean?
      “Starclan has sent me to you, to warn you and forsake you, just as you have done to your clan”, Crowpaw meowed steadily, though her heart broke at every word. “They now turn their backs on you, just as you did not but a few days ago. You, who vowed to raise your clan -die for your clan- when you took your Warrior name, will now live with your guilt until the time when you go to meet Starclan. Though Starclan will not take you into their ranks.”
      Coyotewhisker wanted to wail at her words, but could only stare at Crowpaw, frozen by the weight of what was being said to him. Was this what his clan felt when he and Leafpelt ran? Was this what it felt like to be abandoned by the ones you trusted to watch over you?
      “Do know that there is hope for you, Coyotewhisker. If you wish to be rid of your guilt, there is still a clan you can return to and beg for forgiveness, and face the punishments awaiting you. Or, you can become a leader, build your own clan from nothing, proving to Starclan that you are worthy of their forgiveness.” Crowpaw paused for a moment, watching her brother’s horrified form. “What do you choose.”
      Coyotewhisker couldn’t speak or move. He felt dead, frozen in place. Choose? Choose what? No matter what he did he would always be hounded by his cowardice. “I can’t go back.”
      Before he could get another word out, Crowpaw started again. “Then you will lead your own clan. And I will give you your first and only life.”
      “No!”
      “I give you the life of devotion, so that you will lead your clan with the same passion I once knew in you.” Crowpaw then leaned forward to touch her nose to Coyotewhisker’s trembling head. She stopped for a moment as he drew away, pressing himself further into the cold earth. This was as hard for her as it was for him.
      The pain in her heart felt like death all over again, only this time she would walk away with it gnawing at her. She had to believe that some good would come out of this, something. And it was that belief that moved her the distance to Coyotestar’s brow. She trembled as the Life ran from her and into her kin. As Crowpaw backed from her brother she saw -no, felt- him quiver as the Life coursed through his whole being.
      Then she righted and, in a voice choked with emotion, said, “I now name you Coyotestar, leader of the Clan. Know one more thing; Starclan will not guide your clan until the death of your kits.”
     “I don’t understand, why make me a leader”, the tabby tom hissed in fear and confusion. But Crowpaw’s form had already begun to fade. “No, don’t leave!”
     “Goodbye, brother.” And then she was gone.
      Coyotestar leaped to his paws yowling, eyes darting widely about him. Crowpaw was gone. The night sky was once again streaked with lightning and pouring rain. Breath coming in ragged gasps, the tom looked down into the frightened eyes of Leafpelt.
      The she-cat had seen the conversation transpire between brother and sister. She had borne witness to Coyotestar’s leader naming. And now she stared at him, full of uncertainty.
       “What have we done?”