Hawkfrost floated away from his body, trying to ascend to the place cats go when they fade or their spirits die. He didn't know where he was going, all he knew was that he was gone, and that this place was sharper and clearer than his time with the clans.

His whole life flashed before his very eyes: Their mother, Mothwing, Riverclan, Brambleclaw, Ivypool, the training, the fighting, the battle. His past was a bleak and horrible one, and it was all because of one choice.

One. Stupid. Choice.

"Hawkfrost," A strong, yet gentle, voice called, "You have a chance to change your past."

A conveyor belt of moving images appeared in front of the tom. He stared at them, curious. The images were seemingly being shown from the eyes of a cat, and many of them showed cats that he knew.

He looked towards one end of the string. An image of floodwaters greeted his eyes with its sinister, rising current. He extended a paw forward, wanting to touch it, and suddenly, he found himself in the frail body of a kit.

"RUN!" A young golden tabby she-kit exclaimed, blue yes wide, trying to find a way out.

They were in a twoleg basement, and it was quickly flooding with water!

Hawkfrost fought against the raging waters that tugged at his paws, threatening to pull him down. Why is this so hard, He thought, I should be able to walk through this no problem!

Then, Hawkfrost saw his mother, Sasha, in a window. "Over there," He squeaked, and was surprised by his high-pitched voice.

Then, young black tom kit with amber eyes called out to them, "Hawk! Moth! Get to that window!"

The tom started to make his way to the window, and Hawkfirst and Moth followed close behind.

He shoved them forward, ahead of him, and yowled, "Climb! Climb! You can do it! Hawk, get on to the sill! Moth, keep going, I know you can!" The black tom encouraged when Hawkfrost slipped while hauling himself up and when Moth started to falter in her own climb.

When Hawkfrost and Moth reached the top of the sill, they looked back at the black tom.

"Hurry Tadpole," Moth yowled, her pelt fluffed out, "The waters getting higher!"

Tadpole quickened his pace, and was able to pull himself on to the sill. He quickly started to try and open the window, and he succeeded, but slipped and fell into the surging waters.

"TADPOLE!"

Then, emerging with a gasp, Hawkfrost trembled. Tadpole, my brother. He had suppressed that memory for so long, he had almost forgotten it. To live through that pain again was pure torture.

Taking a minute to gather his bearings, Hawkfrost regained his composure and deduced that these images were his memories.

Hawkfrost scanned through all of the horrible things he did: Faking Mothwing's sign, forcing her to set up Strormfur and Brooke's exile, trying to trap and kill Firestar, betraying his half-brother's trust, vowing revenge, attacking Ivypool, killing Hollyleaf, and causing so much more pain, all because of that one choice, that one thing that he said.

"There are worse cats to imitate." He watched that memory, flexing his claws at his stupidity. If he had never followed Tigerstar, then he wouldn't have died like he did, twice! He might have been a loyal and strong warrior, loyal to his clan above all else, with kits and a mate. His sister wouldn't fear him, his half-brother wouldn't have killed him, he might have even been made deputy!

Then again... He had the chance to turn every loss into a win. Every disappointment into a satisfactory situation. To hurt every cat that had ever defied him. To destroy the clans once and for all!

But what would that mean?

Death. Power. That's what it would mean. Pointless, pityless death, rule over a broken civilization.

No. He stamped his foot down. That isn't what I want. It was never what I truly wanted.

Hawkfrost growled, and flung himself into the memory.

"Hawkfrost," Mothwing recoiled, disgusted, "You sound like Tigerstar!"

Hawkfrost looked around. This was the moment where it all began. The river gushing, the scent of Thunderclan close by, his sister looking at him like he was some sort of monster.

I won't make the same mistakes again.

"Yeah," He replied, "Your right, Mothwing. I'm sorry. I shouldn't think like that."

The golden she-cat nodded, and asked, "Would you mind helping me collect herbs?"

He smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face. "Sure."

Hawkfrost lived a life very different from his true past, and went down in clan history as a hero. He took care of the clans when they traveled to the lake and saved many a cat from the treacherous mountains. He supported Onestar in his leadership and helped to mend the broken friendship between the Windclan and Thunderclan leaders. Hawkfrost forged close bonds between the clans that led to less bloodshed and more unity, earning him his place as the new Riverclan deputy when Leopardstar died.

He strengthened the relationship between Brambleclaw and himself, and never told Mothwing of the fake sign, securing her belief in Starclan. Hawkfrost rejected his father and advised Brambleclaw to do the same, causing a block in Tigerstar's influence.

When the Dark Forest tried to rise and conquer the clans, Hawkfrost was the first to warn the clans, and he quickly advised the leaders to work together instead of splitting apart.

He died fighting bravely alongside his half-brother in the Great Battle, sacrificing his life to save Brambleclaw's, and was remembered as a hero.

When Hawkfrost had faded away from Starclan and once again found himself traversing the white plain, the memory belt did not return, and Hawkfrost instead found himself in a long line.

When he reached the front, a winged twoleg looked through a large book and nodded, ushering Hawkfrost towards a great golden gate. He padded forward, and the gate swung open welcoming him into a great land with streets of gold and lovely, singing twolegs. Then, the voice that started it all called out to him, saying, "Well done, Hawkfrost. Well done."