Wind ruffled Sparkface's golden fur as she stood on the edge of the same rock which had nearly taken her life many moons earlier. She sat serenely, thinking of the past seasons with an edge of bitterness. She had returned to the Clan. She was treated like a hero for a season, and then suddenly she was a ghost again, just another cat, blending in with the shadows that stretched across WindClan's heart.

She remembered with some clarity the action that had first placed mistrust and dislike in the Clan. Her birth. She had been born as a misfit, an outsider. She grew up as the cat who could be blamed for anything. Sparkface heaved a sigh and forced herself to keep sifting through memories.

When she had returned to the Clan, Grasswind had treated her differently. The tom reached out to her with at first hesitancy and then compassion and love. She had thought for sure that this time she would be accepted and have a mate, as she had longed for all of her life. Grasswind fancied her for as long as the Clan did, though. She was thrown aside by him whenever she made a mistake.

And she was hated vehemently by her brother. He caused nothing but trouble for her, scaring her prey so she brought nothing back to feed the Clan. When the Tinylight stopped working, he was the first to accuse her of destroying it in envy of how she never got to use it. Gorsestar's trust melted away like dew on grass in the heat of the sun, and she was even then a little dead to WindClan.

She was snapped back to the present as a mournful cry sounded over the moor. An eagle soared high above her, its huge brown wings blotting out the sun. A chill shook her thin body, and she remembered the oath she had sworn when she was made warrior. A pledge of protection to her Clan, a vow she had said she would never break, even at the cost of her life. Would she give her life to save her brother from this eagle? Would she die defending the youngest kits and the oldest elders so they could know life as she never had, accepted and loved by everyone in the Clan?

Sparkface knew in her deepest heart that she would. She would throw herself into danger just to save someone she loved. But she knew that few of her Clan would do the same for her. Would Lionfrost catch her again if she plummeted off Outlook Rock? He had once, and he regretted it. She could tell he regretted it in every fiber of his body, with every furious look he shot her and every lie he told that put her in the spotlight of blame.

Did she want to live? she pondered. Did she want to continue this life that StarClan had given her, even if it was cursed from the start? Of course she did. Life was a beautiful, precious thing. It was like a fragile flower, blooming for only a short time. The memory of the flower would last for generations, but its petals would soon fall and wither, fading away into the seasons. And to break Life was only to snip the petals off a little earlier when they were still blooming, and to end the flow of energy keeping the flower alive.

If she cut the petals of Life too soon, it was not out of self-pity, it was not because she wanted to make her Clanmates feel bad, and it was not because she thought she was unworthy of life. She was doing it because she was a danger. She was a danger to herself, her Clan, and the flimsy peace between the four Clans. It would only take an accidental phrase or action to spark a war between the Clans, and she would be blamed. No, WindClan would be blamed.

So she stepped to the edge of Outlook Rock and thought of all of the things that made her heart sing about her life. Her warrior ceremony; being treated like a hero as she brought the Tinylight to WindClan; the little friendship that had blossomed into a true, lifelong friendship with the Twoleg ferret; the occasional tender glance that Grasswind had given her—however fake, it still made a deep impression on the young she-cat; and even her brother. How he had saved when she first tried to take her life, how he had thrown himself in danger for her sake, and his affectionate purrs whenever she did something, however small, right.

She focused on the bright things in her life and pushed away anything smaller and unimportant. And as she strode confidently off of Outlook Rock, she remembered her warrior ceremony. Suddenly she was in the center of her Clan, with all the cats cheering for her. Her mother, father, and brother sat in the front, their purrs shaking the ground under her feet, and she received her name. "Sparkpaw, do you swear to uphold the warrior code and defend it even at the cost of your life?"

"I do," she whispered to herself. "I swear." And she fell, the wind slipping around her and as she tumbled, time slowed down. Her mother's kind face flashed before her eyes. The breeze seemed to whisper a name as she fell. "Larkgrace!" her mother murmured. "Larkgrace!" Right before she hit the ground and blackness swept over her for the last time, she knew. She was Larkgrace, and nothing, not even death, could separate her from her final, absolute, happiness.

Her name was Larkgrace, and she was a warrior of WindClan.

ey it's the end :) i feel sad after writing this...poor Sparkface! All she ever wanted was acceptance in her Clan.

written by leopard :)