“Again.” Hawk flinched as his father’s commanding voice struck through the air. Shakily, the young tom stood and faced the cat in front of him.
Jackdaw was easily twice his size, already a year older and fully grown. Hawk was only four moons old, despite his unusually large body, and Jackdaw was beating him into a pulp. Blood dripped off his face and shoulders and splattered on the snowy ground.
“I already told you that he’s too weak.” Jackdaw’s voice was taunting, always taunting, and suffused with enough arrogance to make Hawk’s teeth ache. “Harrier, let’s go find someone else to fight. I’m wasting my skills.”
Hawk glared at the pair of toms, trembling in equal parts pain and rage. He knew in his heart he couldn’t beat them – they had many moons of experience on him – but he still fantasized what it would be like to rip their throats out, feel the life wither beneath his teeth.
“What a waste of time.” Harrier sneered. Hawk had gotten used to his father’s insults long ago. “You’re so pathetic.”
Hawk said nothing, just glared at the pair until they walked away again. I’ll kill you. He thought as he watched their tails retreating. You’ll never be safe from me. For now, though, he was small and weak and needed to see his mother.
Ivory was waiting by the entrance to their den, plucking the feathers from a seagull. The silver tabby glanced up and flinched when Hawk drew closer. “Was it your father?”
“Who else?” Hawk grumbled, settling beside his mother. He hated being Harrier’s son, having a stupid bird name to show who he was related to. It was the way of the tundra, naming the son after the father. Without another word, Ivory silently began grooming his fur. Her warm tongue soothed his sore muscles and aching wounds. They stayed in companionable silence until sunset when Harrier and Jackdaw’s figures began approaching.
Hawk felt his fur begin to prickle, but Ivory tsked at him and send him to the other side of the cave. “Behave, little one.”
“Hunt is late,” Harrier said as he walked in. “I thought I told you to make sure she was here.”
Ivory stood up and shuffled deeper into the cave. “You know how she is, always out and about.”
“I brought her prey,” Jackdaw announced, dropping a dismally small mink near his nest.
She hates mink. Hawk rolled his eyes in silence and pretended to sleep. He had to endure Jackdaw’s ceaseless bragging about beating up those weak cats and showing those Clancats who’s boss, as well as Harrier’s near-constant remarks on how Ivory needed to improve.
Hawk’s heart twisted for his mother, but he knew he could only lay still and pretend to sleep. If he tried to speak up, both of them would end up injured. I’ll kill him. He thought, curling up into a tighter ball. And we can be free of him.
The little tom had almost drifted off when a shriek pierced the cave. It was so agonized that Hawk’s eyes shot open, his fur prickling. His heart stopped when he saw Ivory, his dear, beloved mother, gasping for air on the ground.
The she-cat was gasping because her neck was torn open, blood pooling around her. Among the jelly-like inside of her throat was a tube-shaped area that was broken. Jackdaw stood over her, his eyes gleaming with malice.
He got her windpipe! Horror clutched Hawk’s chest and he shot to his paws, ready to help. But, as he took one step closer, Harrier whirled on him. “You!” He shrieked. “You caused this!”
Before Hawk could react, a lovely silver pelt marred with blood lunged at Harrier. Both kit and father were stunned that Ivory had managed to summon enough strength to get to her paws, but Hawk saw in her eyes one command – run. Heart full of grief and hate, he shoved past Harrier and fled into the darkness.
As he ran, Hawk squinted at a moving shape in the snow. Hunt, his sister and a spitting image of their mother, was coming back.
“Hey, there you are,” Hunt said cheerfully. “I-”
“Run.” Hawk managed. “Run. We need to go.”
Hunt stared at Hawk for a long moment, too long for Hawk’s impatience, before turning and racing away soundlessly. Her brother followed, feeling numb and sick.
I’ll kill him. Hawk thought, the words building bile in his chest. I’ll make them both pay. They’ll never live happy lives.
Six moons later, Hawk and Hunt roamed the island without a care in the world. They avoided the tundra and lived peaceful lives. Yet…
Hate festered in Hawk’s heart. It consumed him like a fever. He longed to feel Harrier’s flesh rip under his claws, to crush Jackdaw’s last breath in his jaws. He wanted revenge.
Hunt worked hard to temper Hawk’s rage, but she could only curb his desire. Despite her best attempts, it was never eradicated. She pleaded with him to focus on himself and find a new meaning in life, but Hawk had nurtured the hate for so long that he couldn’t get rid of it.
“My name is Hawk,” he’d always tell his sister, “and I can’t forget him because of it. Everyone knows who my father is because of it.” His hate only grew.
That’s why, when Hawk saw Jackdaw standing over Hunt’s lifeless body, he was blinded by rage.
“What,” Hawk’s words were filled with so much rage and hate that both Harrier and Jackdaw whirled around with fear in their eyes, “do you think you’re doing?”
Hawk could see the shock, fear, and then contempt flash through both Jackdaw and Harrier’s eyes. This wasn’t the same timid kit they once knew – this was a fully-grown tom. Still soft around the edges, but with powerful muscles and cruelly sharp claws. After a moment of thick silence, Jackdaw laughed.
“She was my mate, you know. You ran away with her, kidnapped her from me, so I came back for her. But I guess you got to her first. Made her think she was free to choose.” Jackdaw’s voice was so confident, so sure of himself.
With a cry of sheer rage, Hawk flung himself at the tom. His fangs sank into Jackdaw’s face, ripping into it. They crashed to the ground, rolling for a moment before Hawk came out on top. He slammed Jackdaw’s head into a rock a few times, intent on smashing his head open, but then claws hooked into his shoulders and yanked him away.
Hawk was hauled off of the dazed Jackdaw by Harrier, who snarled with rage. “Don’t touch him!” He shrieked. “You’re not worthy of even scratching him!”
“You’re pathetic.” Hawk hissed, recalling the last words his father had said to him. “Look at you! Hunt was your daughter, Ivory was your mate!” He swiped at Harrier, claws ripping into the tom’s ears.
“They were weak.” Harrier spat, lunging for Hawk. He was smaller than his son now, but his movements were practiced. His fangs sank into Hawk’s shoulder and ripped the flesh and fur away.
“They were family!” Hawk cried, grappling with Harrier’s head and using his larger size to force the tom to the ground. “You let them die! I was your son!”
“Jackdaw is the only son I’ve ever had.” Harrier spat, wriggling free. “Your mother never gave me a good kit. She gave them all her worst traits and none of my good ones. I had to find a better heir.”
Hawk’s vision went red and he lunged forward. Harrier was in the middle of stumbling and hadn’t expected Hawk to attack so fast – the tom’s fangs struck true and he ripped into the great artery in Harrier’s throat. Blood exploded into Hawk’s mouth, sickly sweet and reeking of hate, and he gagged as he threw his father to the ground.
Gasping for breath, Harrier fixed Hawk with a cold glare. “You…” He hissed out, blood bubbling up to his mouth. “You…! I hate you!” He screamed. “You will always be nothing!”
Hawk stared at Harrier and felt nothing but contempt. Without replying, he turned to Jackdaw – only to find the tom gone. He was so caught off guard by the turn of events that he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Your son fled. Left you to die.” Hawk turned to Harrier, who was now heaving and struggling to breathe. Those cruel yellow eyes gleamed with hatred, but Hawk found that he just… didn’t care. “You… are worthless.” He shook his head and returned to Hunt’s body, feeling desolation.
Ignoring his father’s still spasming body, Hawk delicately picked up Hunt and carried her to a brightly lit meadow. Thousands of flowers swayed in the gentle breeze and filled the air with color and life. It was where Hunt loved to be…
Trembling, Hawk set Hunt’s body in the center of the meadow and began digging into the soil. He felt numb all over. It was no different than the night Ivory died – but now, this time, Hawk was truly alone. He had no one to run away with, no one to soothe his wounds. His claws ripped as he dug, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.
By the time dusk was setting in, Hawk’s paws were covered in blood from his missing claws and Hunt was buried. He selected the best flowers and laid them over her grave, then rolled a pair of stones to mark it.
Hawk sat down beside the grave, his heart aching. “What do I do now?” He whispered, his voice hoarse. The only response was the ripple of the wind and the gentle buzz of a bee as it rested on the petals of a pink flower. The tom stared at it for a long moment, remembering his mother talking about the fierce little things.
They protect their family more than anything, you know. Ivory had said. When I die, I’ll come back as a bee.
Can I be a bee too? Hawk had asked, snuggling into Ivory’s fur. A big one, to protect you.
Of course. You’ll be the strongest bee, little one.
A cracking stick broke Hawk out of his reverie. His head jerked up and he glanced around wildly. “Who’s there?”
A she-cat the color of fire stepped into the meadow, a squirrel dangling from her jaws. She set it in front of Hawk and curled her tail around her paws. “… eat.”
Hawk stared bitterly at the prey. “Who are you?”
“Frostburn.” The she-cat said gruffly. “And you’re in my territory. Killing rogues like that, are you trying to attract foxes? Did you know him?”
“… he was my father.” Hawk forced the word out, hate suffusing his words.
Frostburn stared at Hawk for a long moment but said nothing. She moved over and sat next to him. “Eat and gather your strength, kit.” Her voice was rough, but her movements were gentle. “And then you can tell me what happened.”
Hawk glanced at Frostburn wearily, but he knew he couldn’t go on without food. He nibbled at the squirrel, aware that the stranger was staring at him.
When he finished the squirrel, Hawk finally glanced back at Frostburn. “… yes?”
“What’s your name? And where are you headed?”
Hawk opened his mouth to reply but paused. Harrier was dead. Ivory and Hunt, too. No family to link him to that hated name. His thoughts turned to Ivory. What was it she said?
“… my name is Bee.” The tom said softly. “I don’t have a home or a family, but I’ll make one.”
Frostburn snorted. “I’ll hold you to it. Come on, we need to get out of here before my- before the Clan gets here.”
The tom dipped his head, thinking of the tundra. “I know a place we can live. Will you come with me?”
“You said you would make a home, right?” Frostburn blinked. “Then I’ll help you. I’m in need of a family myself. Let’s go, Bee.”