[Fate Admin]

He was RainClan by birth, by descent. His ancestors as far back as anyone could tell had all been RainClan, pure and true. His mother who had never shown him anything but love was in RainClan. His father who was a little too simple for his tastes was in RainClan. His sister who could often be annoying was in RainClan. The cat he had called mentor and perhaps by most cats’ expectations should have been able to call friend was in RainClan, havin ascended from the position of Deputy to the highest rank any Clan cat could hope to attain as RainClan’s leader. And it was this final straw that broke the camel’s back, for Razorstar was simply too much to stomach.

He had waited, biding his time, watched until the newly made leader made his way from RainClan’s camp. Probably on a patrol or some other monotonous Clan duty. He had waited heartbeats longer as the older tom’s black tail disappeared through the camp entrance and then he had made his move. Keeping to the reed beds he had crept around the edge of camp until he had come to the leader’s den, that which Razorstar now called his own. He slunk in, padding over to the carefully constructed nest that reeked of his Clan’s leader. He made himself comfortable and left his final ‘gift’ to his former mentor. It’s not as if Razorstar would deign to clean up the mess himself, anyway. Some unfortunate apprentice would likely have the pleasure of that task. He dropped a pebble of no particular value to him into the nest as well, symbolic of the beginning of the relationship he would rather have never had with RainClan’s new leader.

With that he turned and padded back out, not even trying to hide the fact that he’d just been inside the leader’s den. He trotted toward the camp entrance, not bothering to look at anyone, nor say anything to any of the cats he had once called his Clanmates. He made his way at a leisurely pace out of camp and toward the mountain border. His collection had already been moved, safely stashed away in a new hiding place beyond the border, where no RainClan cat would dare tread, their imaginary lines keeping them safely within their own territory. Let them keep their territory and their borders, their patrols and their Clan meetings. Let them keep their ceremonies and their Clan loyalty and their dumb Code too. Fleetwing was through with Clan life, he was through with borders, through with being ordered around and having expectations and responsibility thrust upon him that he never wanted nor asked for, simply for being born into one of the five Clans in the Valley.

His paws carried him over the scentline, a scent he had been smothered by his whole life so far, and then it was gone. He found himself racing away, into the mountains where nothing but freedom awaited him, and of course his precious collection. These things were all he needed. Well. He slowed, pausing to turn and look back down into the valley, toward the stream dotted with boulders that marked the border between RainClan and StoneClan. There was one other thing, beyond that border, something he did not wish to leave behind and yet could not bear to take with him. Windsong. His ears angled toward StoneClan’s territory. He would have to find her, after he’d found himself a decent place to stay. There would be no more meetings at the Stone Stream, but though he had left RainClan, he had not left her. She would be better off with her Clan than roaming the mountainside with him, but he would find her again.

As he turned back to the slope at hand, angling steadily upward into the mountains, he felt as though he’d shed a river’s worth of water from his coat, breathing an easy sigh as though he had been holding his breath for far too long and now, finally, he could breathe easy for the first time in a long time. He was free.