It was hard to stare at ThunderClan's scorched land. 

The ragged-furred tom had tried, to the best of his abilities, to quench the fires by suffocating them using his air element abilities. Unfortunately, it had been too much to control, even with the assistance of the other air elements and the small pawful of water elements that ThunderClan had. It as his home. ThunderClan and Hawktalon, there was a great deal of history between the two, most of which had gone unspoken as the solemn warrior did his best to bury the travesties of his sister. He began to drown out her existence by reminding himself of the pride that the rest of his bloodline and relations had brought: his father had been a revered deputy, his mentor had grown to be the infamous leader of the clan, and his mother a good warrior. Hawktalon himself was a praised member of ThunderClan. At least, he was now.

Not so much when he was an apprentice, supporting his sister. 

But so long as he acted as if she was dead to him, she could not harm his reputation as a respectable warrior of ThunderClan. As an air element, he was treasured by them, lending his unique skills to make up for what the earth elements lacked. Although during the fires, he had felt as if he'd failed them. His tireless attempts to contain the fire had been to no avail, leading the clan to evacuate. He liked to believe that his efforts had made at least some sort of impact, but still he had difficulties in convincing himself of this. 

Hawktalon seldom strolled near the border unattended, and for all the right reasons (although he wouldn't verbally disclose that). Whenever he lingered near the border, it was always in the company of a well-stocked patrol. But today, he found himself alone. The burns that scarred his home made it difficult to hunt in his preferred stomping grounds, a screaming reminder of his failure. Prey will be better away from the damaged land, anyways. He tried to find an excuse within himself.