Hermitclan's Stories (A Hermitcraft x Warrior Cats AU)

(The Outsiders Arc) A Remnant of Sparrowclan

CCs used:

OwengeJuice=Orangepaw/Orange
Apokuna=Apo

Any other characters mentioned are OCs.

Silence. He could hear his own heartbeat, it was that quiet. Or was his heartbeat just loud? No, no, they would've found him if it was loud. They would've noticed him hiding near the warrior's den, pretending to be dead as his mother, Lemonstripe, told him to do.

Impatient, he risked opening his light brown eyes, only to find that he was the only cat that could hear their own heartbeat.

His peers, his family, his friends, all laying motionless. He could spot his mentor from where he was, their blood adding red to the mix of white, black, and orange on their calico coat. He got up shakily, tears welling in his eyes.

"Mom...? Dad...?" He called out, his orange fur standing on his back as he stumbled across the demolished clan. No answer. He found them eventually, near the leader's den where his father, Arrowstar, would sleep, but he didn't quite find them. They were both up in Starclan now, all he found were their bodies.

A wail.

If the blood didn't soak into the dirt, his tears sure did. Maybe if he were a warrior, he would've been able to protect them, but no. He was horrible at being a warrior. As much as Woodwhisker told him that they were so proud to have him as an apprentice, he was horrible at it. He was 12 moons old, but despite all his training, he failed most of the tests. He would've been a warrior if he wasn't a failure. He would've been more.

He would've been more than Orangepaw.

But it was too late now. His whole clan was wiped out, only their memory remaining. His memory of them remaining. Would the other clans care? They sure didn't care when his father told them about suspicious happenings around the Sparrowclan's camp. They told him to just be cautious, as if being cautious would've helped them live the battle.

He was angry. He was ashamed. And worst of all, it just... hurt. It hurt so badly. His future was nothing. His clan was always going to be dead. He was always going to be Orangepaw. He was always going to be nothing.

So he left. Maybe some cats from other clans would come around to investigate, and if they saw him they'd pick him up without a second thought, but he didn't want to be part of a clan that otherwise wouldn't have cared about him. In fact, he was done with clans period. He was done being raised and trained just to fail no matter how hard he tried. Really, this had been a long time coming. He took to the grass outside the clan and only looked back for a second before darting away, never to be seen anywhere around there again.

It was just Orange from now on. No clan naming structure ever again. Nothing to do with clans. He would just be Orange.

...

A roll of thunder boomed across the woods, loud and unwelcome.

"AH!" Orange jolted awake, tightening his grip on his bag before relaxing back up. It's been about 12 moons now since he ran away, and he'd just been circling around in the forest, occasionally finding a two-leg nest or any abandoned areas. In fact, he took his brown bag from a two-leg, and while it was slightly worn, it was still good enough to hold all his little trinkets.

He sat under the shaky roof of what he assumed used to be a two-leg den at some point, but was now just a rotten husk of a structure. It certainly was no home, but it kept him from the rain, and that was all he needed for now. Another boom of thunder shook him again, but with a deep sigh, he laid back down and hoped to Starclan that the vicious weather would end.