Faustian | warrior cats

xix | hollow

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3 days later.

"Hollowhawk," The faint whisper of his name fell into the air like an autumn leaf. The soft sound trickled from a soft mouth and danced down in the still sky. The somber tom, who had been wandering in the graveyard of his thoughts, had awoken for the first time in days. His sun-hued eyes spun around, facing the branch of the nose: the nursery.

Hollowhawk stepped into the covered den quickly, fearing something may be wrong. He battled past the hanging vines of the entrance, the thorny strings stroking the fur on his back. At once, he was pulled from the gray day and into a new realm of safety. His pink nose was struck by the scents of sweet mothers and the perfume of family. Hollowhawk inhaled a long breath, remembering the times when all he had to worry about was growing up. Oh, to be a kit again.

"There he is." Perching across the darkened den was the owner of the whisper. She was a sitting, sleek sandy-colored she-cat, her stomach was now the shape of an egg. She was swelling with new life and it made her former apprentice happy to see her. The she-cat's smooth green eyes settled on Hollowhawk, shining in satisfaction as she looked him up and down. "Look at my apprentice," She cooed as a mother would. "He's all grown up."

The sooty-brown tom chuckled quietly, his whiskers turning hot from bashfulness. "How can I help you, Sandyrose?" He finally asked, searching her eyes for any clue of an answer. When gazing at her, he was plagued by the past. There was a history between the two cats; once just a teacher and just a student, now considered each other family. Hollowhawk liked to think of himself as Sandyrose's first son; he was her kin by soul, not by blood. "Is there a problem?

"No, no, everything is fine." Her smile rained down on him but her happiness evaporated as fast as it came. "Though, I do think you should be asking yourself that question." Her head tilted to the side, "There is something wrong with you. I can see it."

The mannerism drained from the tom's expression. He sunk into a blank stone, instantly thinking of his trouble with Larkmoon. Invisible blood stained his paws like long socks. He knew Sandyrose had good vision but could she really see his hallucinations as well? Hollowhawk had just been caught-

"Don't look so guilty," The sandy she-cat roared in laughter. "I just noticed that you seemed sort of sad lately." She touched her delicate tail to his shoulder, comfort hugging her eyes. "What's wrong, my son?"

Son. The word reassured him. It took all of his nightmares and chased them away, it reminded him that he still had someone by his side. "I don't know what is right anymore," He admitted in a low tone, ducking his head in shame. He could feel the guilt and sins piling on top of his crown, weighing down the honor he was supposed to wear. "I don't know who I am. Sometimes I feel so many emotions, it tears me apart. But then other times-" He paused, knowing the next words were going to hurt. Perhaps his birth mother was right all along, she had named his heart from the start. "I'm hollow."

Sandyrose shook her head swiftly, "No, you're not hollow. You're Hollowhawk. There's a big difference." The way she spoke the word hollow turned it from a torment and into something greater. She had done the same with him- taken a neglected kit and turned him into a deputy. "You just need someone to remind you who you are. I know my Hollowhawk." Sandyrose circled her tail around his legs. "Trust me, a hollow tom would not have saved Thornpaw from drowning in the river." Yes, Hollowhawk had done that. "And a hollow tom would have never saved the elders from being trapped in the great fire." He had also done that.

Sandyrose pulled away, suddenly acting abashed. "I never thought I'd admit to this but I dream of my kits growing into cats like you. I want them to be the good that you are to this Clan." She turned over her shoulder to look at him, still flushed. "I want them to see the brave leader you are and I want them to be just like you."

Hollowhawk's heart was drumming with gratitude. His soul mother's words were the best encouragement. But something she said didn't feel true. "I'm not the leader."

The pale ginger ducked her head, sadness swamping under her eyes. The heavy silence was all too much to bear. "That leader's rock hasn't been stepped on in over a moon." She argued, her voice picking back up to its resentful sound. "C'mon, Hollowhawk- don't act as if you don't know. ThunderClan's dying!" The tom flattened his ears, the confrontation causing his nerves to curl. "Webstar is too old- the leader's place is practically yours."

The thought hadn't sunk in until just then. Hollowhawk, the soon-to-be leader? It didn't feel righteous, not with all of the senseless killings he had covered up. Panic flooded his blue veins and traveled down, straight to the bottom of his heart. "I- I have to go." He tried to make a beeline for the exit, but he was stopped.

"Hawk! Please, wait." Sandyrose chirped, struggling to get out of her nest from the heaviness in her belly. "One last thing," She inched closer to him, her eyes burning two holes into his head. "When I asked if there was something wrong, earlier. Why did you look so guilty?" The she-cat's expression crinkled into a frown, "What are you hiding, son?"

He stayed silent; so speechless it was like he was standing before a funeral. He could see the session now: 'May Hollowhawk's reputation rest in peace.' The tom searched for something to say because he couldn't tell her the truth. How does a son confess to his mother that the creature she created is now a monster? The answer is: he doesn't. So, again, he covered it up. "May only StarClan know."

Hollowhawk left the den and was welcomed back by the stormy gray skies and the rain looming in big clouds above his head. He tilted his head upwards, eyes settling below the just sky to see the leader's rock jut out like a throne. It was barren, Sandyrose was right. No cat had stepped on that rock for months. Glancing to his right, the deputy took sight of his hopeless Clanmates lazing around the camp. They were starved, bones sticking out from their stomachs like twigs. Their eyes were dull, missing the sporadic and lionhearted colors. What happened to the strong ThunderClan he knew? These cats needed someone to lead them and fast.

Before he knew it, Hollowhawk was standing at the bottom of the great rock. The stone felt cool beneath his paws but his ambitions were hot. He could feel the leash of longing yanking him up the throne. Hollowhawk stepped forward. Mother, he thought. He hated her. He was everything she said he would never be. If only she could see him now. Hollowhawk took another step up. Lionsun. He was Hollowhawk's competition from the start, he was always trying to be better. Hollowhawk was glad he was dead. Another step. Beetleleap. The cat he could've saved. He would've saved- but he heard the tom's confession that night and Hollowhawk knew the only cat who could love Larkmoon was himself. So he let her kill Beetleleap. Another step. Larkmoon. He was at the top of the rock.

The place fit his paws perfectly. Scanning down below, Hollowhawk could see his Clanmates staring wide-eyed back to him. They looked at the brown tom as if he was their messiah- he had saved them. A sensation traveled from the stone, from the generations of fearless leaders before him, and infected his paws. It was thrilling. It made Hollowhawk feel as though he could chase away the shadows of ShadowClan, dive into the deepest rivers of RiverClan, and conquer the breezy hills of WindClan. Its name was power.

The tom standing at the edge of the rock was no longer Hollowhawk. It was Hollowstar. 

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