Of course, he had watched on, in something mottled with horror and fury. He did not interject in the fight, knowing that would only serve as a distraction. But all their planning, his plotting, and hard work to mould his protege into a model leader with an iron grip slipped from his grasp just as she tumbled over the edge of that gorge.
He had stood amongst the rabble, watching on with faith in Dustystar's noble warriors to take what they deserved. Revenge. And to send a message to all the clans of this place. That they are not to be challenged, not to be looked down upon as weaklings. It was now or never after the murder of their clanmate in those tunnels, they had to take that step to
prove they weren't easy targets. But now they had only served to prove it.
Froststorm's expression twisted in agony, losing his footing as the moment of impact of Dustystar's feeble corpse to the unforgiving rocks below, he lost his tether to the living. Ripped back to the dark forest in the same wretched way he was when he grew too cocky and lingered on a plane not his own.
"Soft-bellied COWARDS."
He snarled, lips curled in a fury as muddied claws sank into the dreary earth of his star-less home. His chance, his one damned good chance to take this place by his paw and suffocate the clans before they rose again, ripped from his paws. Froststorm knew damn well she was here and took no time to race to her pitifully collapsed heap of a body.
She stirred, body heavy from impact, and maybe he could have excused confusion. Even some snivelling apology. But the tom had to give a disbelieving scoff, laughing, dryly shaking his head. Quickly, though, his expression darkened as a snarl curled about the scarred maw.
"Didn't work? Really? You think I couldn't tell watching you get flung into the gorge like an unwanted kit?"
He snapped, taking a step forward, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Never have I seen such a pitiful excuse of a battle patrol. I had faith in you, Dusty. I put my all into your leadership, and what? This is what I get for it? A body at the bottom of the gorge and all of my time and work for nothing?"
Froststorm shook his head, sneering down at the leader.
"All of this for you to die. I could have attended to that myself if that was all I needed."
Claws flexed into the ground. There was no use in lashing out; she was doomed from the moment she tumbled from the edge of the gorge. There was nothing he could do now to make the blows she was to suffer any worse. He took a step away from her, fury mottling into disgust.
"If you had just listened. If you hadn't hesitated and followed what we discussed you would still be alive, you would have the power and respect you so longed for and you would still be there for Branchkit."
The kitten had let slip Dusty's connections to the kit; if not by blood, he saw the molly as a mother. Yet she never made him aware? He'd decided to keep that knowledge to himself for a time like this, when Dusty decided to grow unruly.
