We Meet and Part

Sparrow was friendless. He had been cast out of his Clan before he had been given the chance to take the title of a warrior, sneered and laughed at as he was driven out of ShadowClan territory. The small, ragged brown tabby was never allowed to go back, never to even show his face to a ShadowClan warrior, or any Clan cat for that matter. Jaggedstar had never mentioned that he was not to contact any Clan cat, but Sparrow took the malicious look in his former leader's eye that he was to avoid the Clans at all costs. And not to mention the threat that Jaggedstar had broadcasted to some of the loners and rogues that anyone who associated with him would suffer the consequences.

The tabby tom had nothing really wrong with him. He was small, admittedly, with long fur slightly curled at the edges, tufted ears and a tasseled tail. In fact, he had been the runt of the litter, and teased because of it in the nursery. As it was, Sparrow was timid, unsure of himself, a practically useless fighter as Boneclaw, the deputy, had put it. But he also had good qualities, the qualities of a good, loyal warrior. Even though he was timid, he was unwaveringly loyal, a budding expert at strategy, and always seemed to be two pawsteps ahead of his former Clanmates, although he had never seen the exile coming. It had hit Sparrow-Sparrowpaw then-like a hammer blow, knocking the air out of him, crushing his soul in half. He had no idea why his Clanmates loathed him quite so much.

There was another reason why Jaggedstar hated him, why Boneclaw despised him, why even his own littermates, Hawkeyes and Mothflight, avoided him. Sparrow always had flashbacks at the worst time possible. Something around him would remind him of a particularily vivid memory, and he would be gone. Just like that. A candle spluttering and dying out, dropping like his string had been clipped. Once, he had been climbing a tree, supervised by his mentor, Berryflower, when he'd suddenly frozen and fallen like a stone. A particularily memorable time was when Sparrow had collapsed like deadweight in the middle of fight with a fox. Swiftwind had risked his life to save the apprentice's, receiving a deep scar on his shoulder, inflicted the fox's teeth while he was yanking Sparrowpaw from under the fox's muzzle.

But now Sparrow was a loner. Cast out by his family, his Clan, and even the other loners kept away from the runty brown tom with several viscous scars on his face and back. He was alone.

Sparrow trudged along the brook, fighting a mental war against the encroaching memories that crowded the back of his mind. He paused by a boulder, leaping up onto it, his short legs flailing as he wriggled up the last inch or so, feeling humiliated even though no one around. But nothing would compare to the time when even his father had laughed at-No! Not now... Sparrow could feel the early memory pressing in on him, enveloping his mind, crushing everything else out. The last feeling was of slipping off the boulder, tumbling dangerously close to the water.

"Mother, why do they hate me so much? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"It's just that you're a little small. But you'll show them, my little warrior, won't you?"

"He'll never be a true warrior! Look how small he is; Sparrowkit won't be able to squish a mouse if he tried!"

"Stoneclaw! How-what-how could you? He's your own kit! Your son! You can't-can't just-"

"Get real, Lilypebble! Look how small he is, how he shirks from me when I stare at him, how everyone laughs at him!"

"He's your kit. You're supposed to stand up for him!"

"Forget it. He's not my son. It's almost six moons since Sparrowkit was born; he's still as small as a kit that's three moons old! Not to mention those sleeping spells he goes into."

"It's not my fault! Father, why do you hate me too?"

Cold water slapped Sparrow's face, and he jerked from his flashback before it was done, finding himself lying on the sandy pebbles, staring into the green eyes of a pale gray tom.

"Hey! My name's Breaker. You were lying unconscious here beneath this boulder; I thought I'd help. Hope you didn't mind me splashing you with a bit of water," the gray tom meowed, eyes wide and friendly.

Sparrow blinked. He was unaccustomed to being treated in such a warm manner. All his life, he had dealt with cold mannerisms and shirking from those who excluded him. And this was a stranger, no less! "Erm, hi," he stammered, blinking the water out of his eyes, still shaken and half-immersed in that horrible memory. "I'm Sparrow. Are you a loner too?"

Breaker helped him up, and when Sparrow finally rubbed the water out of his eyes, he noticed that the strange tom had the build of a RiverClan warrior. Stocky, broad-shouldered, sleek fur like duck feathers, long legs and thick fur, and Breaker's eyes were even the color of sea foam. "Do I know you?"

The loner hesitated. "I don't think so. I've been a loner all my life," he said cautiously. "My mother was a rogue. Do you need help? I've been living as a loner all my life in this area, so I'd be glad to help you."

Sparrow stared into those sea-green eyes. He had changed the subject quickly, so Breaker obviously disliked talking about his past. But now the small brown tabby was infinitely curious. I know him... He looks familiar, but not exactly him.. Then it hit him. The broad-shouldered pale gray tabby deputy of RiverClan! He must be Fogheart's son.

"How did you know?" Breaker was staring at him warily. Sparrow frowned. I must've spoken outloud. Berating himself, Sparrow mumbled, "I was a Clan cat too, until recently."

The pale gray tom stiffened and looked Sparrow over. The tufty brown tom could almost see the gears turning in his head, and he cursed himself for saying anything. StarClan, no. He's going to find out that I'm Sparrowpaw! And then- "You're Sparrowpaw," Breaker blurted out. "Fogheart told me about you. He said that you were the, um," the loner broke off, looking embarrassed.

"The ShadowClan failure?" Sparrow blurted out, and immediately tried to choke back his words. Other loners had treated him well before too, at least until they heard about ShadowClan's hatred of him. Then they disappeared from his life, sometimes quickly, other times slowly fading away until they were gone all together. Breaker was the first who had actually offered friendship....

Sparrow looked up at the pale gray tom hopefully, almost close to begging for him to stay. How he craved company, and friendship without the threat of ShadowClan looming over their heads. He flinched when he saw how uncomfortable Breaker looked. A Clan could stand against ShadowClan's threat to harm anyone who associated with Sparrow, but a single cat? Something close to that reasoning was probably going through Breaker's mind. The tufty brown tom felt queasy, a sick pit of dread in his stomach. He knew what was coming.

"Um," Breaker mumbled. "Well, something to the sort." The broad-shouldered tom stood, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Sparrow felt like wilting. It was always this way...

"I guess, er, I'll see you later," the loner meowed, trying to speak louder than a mutter. Sparrow was tempted to ask him, "Are you lying?" But his weak heart tripped at the thought of making the friendly cat even more uneasy. Sparrow hated making anyone uncomfortable in the least. "Bye Sparrow." Breaker turned and bounded over the banks of the river quickly disappearing into the trees.

The small, tufty brown tom ducked his head, feeling sorrow pulse through him. It was always this way, always this way.... "We meet," he whispered, "and then we part. As always."