what lies in the dark

[Fin]

Above the moon hung in the sky like a orb of light above the young cat's head as he made his way through the undergrowth of Fireclan territory. Night time - where his soul belonged. Though most found fear or uncertainty in the deepest of nights, he felt contentment. Ever since that incident when he was younger... the brown eyed tom shuddered at the thought and shook his head of the memory. Pushing his way through a bush, he knew that the thunderpath lay ahead.

Pausing the sniff the air, he caught scent of a mouse and instinctively lowered to the ground, his tail raised slightly as not to disrupt any twigs or leaves. Steadily he progressed toward the mouse until he found it searching the roots of a tall plant, obviously looking for a meal before returning to it's den. It had not noticed him approaching. Studying it's movements as to guess where it would go next, Owlstrike glared through the darkness with his large round eyes, piercing the night with his superb vision that was useless in broad daylight.

With one giant leap he landed squarely on the mouse and bit down into it's neck just as moons of training had taught the warrior. Pleased with his catch, he carried it to a suitable place and covered it in dirt to protect it. Heading back toward the old thunderpath he stopped on the hard ground below. He scented the air once or twice, finding something unfamiliar in the air. Another cat? No... he couldn't place it. Sniffing again, he cast his vision around the clearing, scanning the trees for any eyes gleaming back at him, but found none.

Risking it, he meowed loudly: "Is anyone there?" He hoped it was a friendly warrior of Fireclan going for a stroll in the woods.

[spottedfur]

The moon shone it's pale light down unto the forest, and pierced through the canopy, to dapple the forest ground below with it's eerie glow. A lone cat wandered through the forest, creeping in the shadows, and avoiding the moon's rays. The dark form paused when a scent of another cat drifted to his nose. He instantly lowered himself to the ground and slunk closer to the source of the scent.
The tom lifted his head and scanned the area, while remaining hidden beneath a low hanging branch of a tree. He peered from behind the foliage of the branch, and spotted the outline of another cat, a tom by the scent of it. The lone cat curled his lips back in a devilish grin. The night time always made him feel a little itch; a craving; a desire. During the night he always seemed to want to sink his claws deep into the warm flesh of a living creature, and tear open gaping wounds. He wanted to feel blood flow between his toes, and scent the fear mixed in the night air. Leafblade wanted to fight a gruesome and bloody battle.
He flinched a little when the other cat called out. So he had been noticed, he thought with irritated disdain. He wouldn't be able to use a surprise attack on the other cat, now... how boring. The tom wrinkled his nose in agitation, but then he tilted his head as he thought, and he smiled again; he could still make this interesting.
"Yes... Someone is here." He spoke in a hushed menacing whisper, as he padded into a single ray of moonlight, to let his appearance be perfectly seen to the other cat. His smile was calm, and a bit unsettling, and his eyes shone with hunger. Not for freshkill, but for a fight; for blood. His claws unsheathed themselves, in his excitement for a battle.
What would this cat do now? Leafblade wondered about this, as his tail lashing from side to side with restrained blood lust coursing through his veins. He didn't scent any other cats around, so this was a perfect opportunity to toy with his latest victim.

[Fin]

Lifting his chin, he sniffed finally, knowing now there was certainly someone hidden in the bushes - but who? He smelt no clan, no familiarity. He wouldn't have minded if it was a warrior from Moonclan or Mistclan as the stranger was making him a little nervous. The tabby stepped back a little, unsure as to whether he should run and tell his clan of a intruder - then he had another thought. What if it was a poor loner, driven from his home or even injured? He had to assess the cat first before raising alarm.

"It's okay, I'm a friend." Owlstrike mewed into the darkness, tentatively placing a paw forward toward the direction of the cat. Creeping forward a little, he was suddenly met with the realisation this cat might not be friendly. The tom, as he now could recognise, had stepped out into the moonlight to reveal his identity. Why was the cat grinning like he had just caught a tricky rabbit? Owlstrike went rigid, the fur on his shoulders beginning to quiver and his ears went backward against his head - this cat was out to kill!

He knew there was nobody about - he had spent his whole life knowing exactly who was in the forest at the same time as he, so that they wouldn't be startled meeting each other. His lip curled into a snarl as he considered what this stranger would do - what if he tried to attack another cat of his clan? There was no running now, no sounding the alarm. A sense of duty flooded the tabby tom, and he knew he might not meet the strength of his opponent, but he would try.

"Whatever you're planning tonight," he spat, "you won't get away with it!" He raced toward the rogue, claws outstretched. Using his smaller size, he planned his attack ahead - he would try to knock the opposing tom over and expose his belly. Owlstrike leapt for the stranger's forelegs, feinting his attack by bouncing straight back off the floor and twisting around to claw his hind leg.

[spottedfur]

Leafblade's grin widened at the tom's reaction. It seemed he had first thought that Leafblade may have been a friendly cat, but now he knows how wrong he was. He blinked it undisguised amusement at the clan cat's harsh and threatening words, and couldn't help but smile in a patronizing way.
His ears then flicked in surprise when the other tom suddenly lunged at him with unsheathed claws. The rogue readied himself for a defensive rebuke, but was shocked to find his prey to seemingly vanish from before him. He felt a searing pain on his hind leg, and he whipped around to see the other tom behind him.
Leafblade let out a furious hiss and he darted forward, racking his long sharp claws across his face, before leaping back. He grinned, when he saw the damage he had inflicted. He raised his paw and licked the blood of his prey of his claws. It tasted delicious! He was going to enjoy this fight thoroughly! And the other cat wasn't about to just roll over on his back either! If luck was on Leafblade's side, this fight may even last for a bit, and he'd get his craving under control.
The rogue leaned forward and crouched down, bunching his shoulders up, and preparing himself for his prey's next move. He'd make sure that this time he wouldn't get caught of guard. The other tom was very fast, and Leafblade wasn't ready for it at the time, but he was ready now. His eyes narrowed with a strange, eager joy, at this battle, and they shone with an urge to fight.
His plan was working, so far! He was having a nice little 'game' with the prey he found, and he'd continue to toy with him until Leafblade grew tired of the game.

[Fin]

Owlstrike had the upper-hand momentarily - his strike had confused him! He twisted his body around and bit hard into the rogue's leg with all of his might. Owlstrike thought that if this tom managed to get away, he would give him some wounds to remember him by. The tabby tom held onto the leg until he jumped backward, hissing and spitting as he did, blood covering his fangs. A moment later, an intense sensation of pain rocketed through his face. The tom had clawed him with such ferocity that the warrior stepped back, shaking his head.

He tried blinking out the blood of his vision, but only one eye would open, the other ominously unresponsive. He had definitely lost it, now feeling the wounds in his face become more defined. Rage built up inside of the tom, and now it exploded as he lunged aimlessly toward the attacker, his claws out wide with a loud battle cry. He collided with the chest of the tom and hoped the attack would send him sprawling backward. There was no way he would let this villain escape, for he knew now how merciless he was.

"If I die here tonight, then let it be a warning to you, - my clan will not let you escape this forest alive! By Fireclan's name I'll have you!" Owlstrike screamed at the rogue, his words drawing strength from his belief in the warrior code and of Starclan. His ancestors would be watching now, and he had to prove he was capable of protecting his honour.

_{(short post, apologies. don't know if internet will cut out so trying to type it up before it does!)}

[spottedfur]

Leafblade frowned when the cat lunged forward with a battle cry, his front paws thrashing with claws fully extended. He was in a battle frenzy! This made the rogue grin; this'll be more fun then he thought. He had to ready himself for the impact of the attack, since he refused to even attempt to dodge it.
He grunted from the force and felt his paws slide along the ground, from the blow of the other tom's attack. He nearly fell right over onto his back, but he was able to focus his weight forward, and remained standing.
This clan cat thought that he wasn't going to be leaving this forest? Something about a clan avenging him, then? He snorted in amusement. "Is that so? We'll see about that!" He hissed in response, with a dark grin.
At that moment Leafblade felt claws gouge deep into his skin, and let out a yowl of pain and outrage. His lips pulled back in a fearsome snarl, his whisker twitching in fury. His head shot down, and he wrapped his jaws around the back of the other cat's neck. He was going to make sure this cat would pay for that!
He ripped the cat off his chest and pulled him right off his paws, flinging him aside and right against a tree. He then lunged forward and pinned the cat with one paw, pressing him against the furrowed back of the tree as his sharp claws dug deep into his flesh. Raising his free paw he slashed his long claws down the side of his face, and down his neck.
"You're precious Fireclan, can't help you now!" He snarled in both anger and satisfaction.

[Fin]

Owlstrike felt his whole world shake. For a moment, he forgot where he was. His one-sided vision was blurred, and for a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of his brother covered in starshine. Shaking his head furiously, he landed back in the battle. His attack had not worked - the Fireclan warrior was not nearly as heavy as he would need to be to knock this rogue down. He couldn't even push him back more than half a tail length. Beginning to feel like it was a losing battle, Owlstrike kept going with his swipes and slashes, mostly missing, but one made contact. He was satisfied when he saw the ruthless tom hiss in pain, hope flaring in his brown eye, but then he realised it had only made the rogue angrier.

Before he even had time to react, he felt the tom bite down heavily into his neck, forcing the wind from Owlstrike's throat. It was the most intense pain he had ever felt. The teeth had sunk far enough into the tabby-warrior's flesh to make him gasp in pain, and relief only came when he was torn from the rogue, thrown aside like a mangy piece of fresh-kill. When he hit the tree, there was a loud crack from the tom's back, and he began to feel numbness spreading through his back legs. Owlstrike lay wounded on the floor, blood spilling from his throat and eye, trying to heave himself up but fail every time. It was pitiful.

His brother stood above him with sadness in his eyes. Owlstrike felt a pain far worse than any mortal wound - he brother was weeping for him. There was nothing any skilled medicine cat could do now - he was a mess.

Rasping for breath, the wind was once again forced from the tabby's lungs as the rogue pressed down on him. In blurred vision, he could see his brother spitting and hissing at the rogue, but he was unaffected by it. Before the tom could finish him off, Owlstrike screamed a loud cry for help, hoping that someone in the camp not too far away would hear and come running. Then he felt the claws scourge from his face down his neck, leaving him bleeding terribly.

"I'm sorry brother." Owlstrike cried, mostly to himself, seeing his brother become more and more tangible by the second. Rolling his head sideways, he glared at his murderer, his eyes becoming glazed: "Run away, coward. You will never feel the warmth of a clan." Owlstrike rasped, his voice weak.

_{(now to find someone to find owlstrike...)}

[◦ʜʇʎɯ]

[bg=fffd3f][atrb=border,0,true][cs=7] Featherdance loved to walk. It was a thing of hers - she loved it. She'd taken some parsley because Jaykit didn't need milk anymore, so she took it upon herself to hunt for him, rather than let others hunt for him. After all, she did find herself oddly attatched to the blind kit - as if he was her own, one of her poor kits that had all been cruelly taken from her in the night after they were born. It pained her to think of their cold, still bodies. To remember the moment she awoke, not hearing their mewling or their snuffles or cries. It made her heart sag with grief, her poor, poor kits, life taken cruelly from them before they got a taste of it, before they said their first word, before they explored the territory, before they tasted the fresh kill every cat took for granted. She closed her eyes, stopping as she walked. She sobbed a little. Her kits, her tiny, defenseless little kits, dead beside her. She took a deep, low breath, and a horrible stench hit her maw. She recoiled. It stank of cat blood. Her yellow eyes widened with fear. The same smell that she had scented when Mythpaw was attacked and taken away by twolegs. And then, a scream for help. Featherdance was frozen to the spot - it was Owlstrike. Then, realisation struck her like lightning and she took off, paws pounding on the ground, lungs taking in deep breaths of air, the wind streaking past her as she ran and ran and ran. She needed to find him before he died - it didn't take a medicine cat to know that cry was one that could not be saved. She needed to be with him, if only for the last moments of his life. The wind battered her face as she kept on moving, legs taking big strides as she hurried towards the scent. She could smell the fear scent mixed in too, and a rogue. It was no clan cat that took the life of Owlstrike. She was panting now, tears streaking past her ears and flying up into the air, to StarClan. She was weeping for her clanmate. She needed to find him. Her paws skidded against the floor as she scented again. He was close. Her feet moved as her mind tried to catch up, and then, she saw him. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart stopped beating. He was a mess, no cat could save him, StarClan or not. For a fleeting moment, she was frozen in place, unable to move a whisker, her pained yellow eyes too afraid to look but too scared to look away. Her mind raced with questions - who killed him, why, how, and for what? A scrap of prey? Or just the taste of blood. Forcing her thoughts away, she bounded over in a few strides, and lay beside Owlstrike, pressing herself against him. He needed her now, in his dying moments. "I'm here Owlstrike, I'm here." she whispered to him, licking some of his wounds. Her voice shook with sorrow for him, yellow eyes closed, unable to look at him in this sorry state. "Relax, don't try to talk." she said. She'd seen cats like this before. They died horrible, slow, painful deaths, unable to take their own life in the moments where they needed it most. Featherdance shivered in sorrow again, pressing her face against him again for comfort. They both needed it. She took in the scent of the rogue, but death and blood blew it away in a heartbeat. She was unable to hold onto it so she could determine if he'd tresspassed again. Struggling, Featherdance opened her eyes to look at Owlstrike, shaking with sorrow and terror. The poor tom, he needed her to be strong for him, he needed her to return him to his clan to be buried with his clanmates, to be released from this physical, pained life to be with StarClan, to watch over his clan and make sure they were safe. Featherdance was not in pain, though she took shaky, staggered breaths as she tried to keep herself focused on Owlstrike, to stop her mind leaving the poor tom in his last moments. The look in his eyes, it told her he needed to say something. "Tell me, Owlstrike." she said. She would hold what he said in her heart til the moment she died if she needed to, she needed to hear his last words for his clanmates, his friends. Unable to look at the blood before her, she buried her face into his fur again, licking him to sooth what wounds she could. She couldn't imagine the pain he was in, what sorrow he held. "...I'm here, I'm here." was all she could say, reassuring him she would not leave him in his dying hour, for it was nigh. It was nigh. [derp long post]

[spottedfur]

Leafblade grinned, baring his short fangs, as he watched his prey squirm in pain, but he flicked his ears when he heard his cry for help. He pinned his ears back, shielding them from the loud yowl that seemed to echo through the forest. Someone would surely hear that! He'd be found out if he didn't leave now.
The rogue frowned, hearing him mention a brother. He was sorry? About what? He let the tom go, his body sliding down to the ground, and he turned his back on him, but looked back hearing him speak again. He was calling him a coward! How dare he! Leafblade was tempted the rip his ears to shreds, but knew he didn't have the time to do that.
As he walked away, stepping into the shadows and padding through the forest, he heard the tom speak again: 'You will never feel the warmth of a clan.' This stopped him in his tracks. What did he mean by that? He turned around and faced him. He opened his jaws, and was about to demand him to say what he meant, but Leafblade clamped his mouth shut. Another cat had came from the forest, and was lying beside the dying tom.
The rogue wanted bloodshed, but killing was never his intention. He couldn't help but feel a small twinge of guilt and regret, but he shook that away. He shouldn't feel that way!
He padded a little closer and watched for a moment, curiosity driving his actions. The she-cat was so caring and he could see that she was suffering, almost as if she was the one who was dying. Why? He couldn't understand this... Was this what that tom was talking about? The warmth of a clan? He didn't need a clan.
Leafblade spun around and padded away silently, entering the shadows, and becoming nearly undetectable. He didn't need to worry about being followed or being tracked. He was stealthy, and the bloodshed and fear in the night air would hide his scent.
As the tom left Fireclan territory, he snarled silently in irritation. He wasn't feeling satisfaction like he was supposed to! That other cat had swore that he wouldn't leave alive and he was proving him wrong! That should make him feel satisfied, but it didn't! Why?! He glared over his shoulder, as the words echoed in his head again: 'You will never know the warmth of a clan.'

{( Leafblade to... somewhere... )}

[Fin]

The image of his brother, still an apprentice when he died, had become so clear now Owlstrike could see him perfectly. The dying warrior was confused when his brother stepped aside to allow a she-cat come to the tom's side. It was Featherdance. He sigh a painful sigh of relief, blood choking in his throat. With one brown eye he held her gaze calmly, trying to get across that he was happy she came. They didn't spend much time together as Owlstrike kept to himself int he camp, but he couldn't have thought of anyone better to have with him. She was beautiful, something he would never be able to tell her. The sadness grew in his weak heart and he tried to speak, but his words came out fumbled. He looked away from her, ashamed of his helplessness, then tried again.

Rasping, he meowed painfully: "Don't.. m-mess your f-fur up.. Featherd-dance." He didn't want her to have his blood on her beautiful coat, and more than anything did he want to groom what was on there away. Resting his head backward with effort, most of the shock had gone. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see more shapes taking place, all very vague but nonetheless feline. He could see his old leader, his parents, even his mentor. His brother was still the most visible, sitting waiting for the tom to rise.

"He..." Owlstrike began again, his voice shaking "he was.. a r-rogue... I managed to injure him a little b-but... he is still out there..." Blood soaked the earth now, the tom's fur drenched, his throat welling. It was like a nightmare, one he wished to escape. With a final gasp of air, rasping and stuttering, he looked to his companion and smiled. "M-make sure the clan knows - protect them... I did my best..." His one eye closed, the tired expression leaving the cat's face.

Next to the body, a dazzling, starry tabby tom materialized next to the two cats. No wounds befitted this tom, two wide brown eyes shining. With grief, he looked down at his own body, before padding over to Featherdance mournfully. He didn't know why, but he was sad. He curled around her, letting his tail go along her shoulder before walking toward his brother who stood with eagerness. Moons of warrior training, a lifetime in the clan he loved and cherished, and a final act to protect his denmates. He wished that the she-cat would tell his story to the clan and hope that they remember him for his deed. One last, lingering look at the scene of his death, before turning to his brother.

"I'm ready."

[◦ʜʇʎɯ]

[bg=fffd3f][atrb=border,0,true][cs=7] As he spoke, Featherdance gave Owlstrike her undivided attention. She couldn't let her mind wander in a time where he needed her to be strong for him. When he told her not to mess up her fur, she struggled to smile. "It's nothing, Owlstrike..." she said quietly, looking at her paws and nose. She was covered in his blood, but she didn't care. He was her clanmate and she'd stay with him until he died, and that was certain. She wouldn't leave him in his time of need, no. Featherdance was not as shallow or as cruel as that. Whenever someone needed the she-cat, she'd be there as soon as she could, whether it be in a heartbeat or moons, she'd stand by someone in their time of need, and Owlstrike needed her. She couldn't leave him. If she did, it would leave her with a guilty concience for the rest of her life; one that would hang on until she reached the grave herself, to see Owlstrike in StarClan. She took a deep breath, trying not to struggle and wail at what Owlstrike was feeling. She needed to be strong. What use was she if she was sobbing by his side? She didn't need to be emotionless but she didn't need to be emotionful. Neither would help the dying tom, no. She needed to share her strength with him, if only for these last few minutes. Then he said who it was who took his life cruelly away from him; a rogue, tresspassing on clan land. Her voice caught in her throat. It was a cat outside the warrior code, so if she could track him down now, she could, in theory, take his life in revenge for Owlstrike, but two wrongs never did make a right. It would only make her a murderer and... well, if she did kill him, StarClan may not allow her passage to their land and she would be sent away to the Dark Forest, never to feel love, friendship, or the warmth of her clanmates again. It made her sick inside, thinking about death. Then, he spluttered, and told her his dying wish. Tears grew in her yellow eyes as she watched him breathe painfully. "I will tell them, Owlstrike..." she closed her eyes, and pressed her nose to his pelt, feeling his ragged breathing stop. Slowly, she pulled her head from his side, and looked up to the sky. She felt his presence beside her, and his tail over her shoulder. It sent a shiver down her spine as she turned to see the glowing spirit of Owlstrike. Her tears were evident on her face, blood-stained and pained. She looked him in the eye, and tried to smile, but all that came out was a sob. "Goodbye, Owlstrike." Featherdance meowed, hanging her head and letting her tears drip onto the tom's physical body. Why? Why did he have to die? He was such a nice tom, he never did anything to hurt anyone; he put his clan before himself, and was such a truthful tom with a heart of gold. Why did he have to die? She raised her head again, looking in the direction of the rogue scent, eyes blazing with anger, sorrow and fear. In her head played a sequence between the rogue and Owlstrike fighting, and it wouldn't leave her head, it wouldn't leave, it wouldn't let her mind be. Her breathing was shallow as she felt the presence of Owlstrike leave her, to StarClan. She looked up at the sky and let out a long wail of grief for her lost clanmate, before turning back to his body. She would have to carry it back to the clan. Standing up, her body shook with grief and she had to lay back down again, letting the salty tears drift from her eyes and splash onto the ground. Her breathing was still shallow, shaky, and her body shook with sorrow for Owlstrike. She didn't need anyone to help her, she'd carry him back once she'd gotten over the shock of his death. Featherdance pressed her nose to his bloody pelt, now cold and dry and crisp. She opened her eyes and pulled her head away, feeling the strength to stand again, and she rolled over Owlstrike's body to grab his scruff. With a paw, she wiped the tears from her face, and put her jaws around the scruff of Owlstrike, lifting him up gently as if he were still alive, and dragging him back towards camp. She would take in upon herself to deliver the news and bury him, and tell the clan his last words, that had embedded themselves on the side of her skull. She would never forget the kind, loyal, strong tom. She'd tell her kits stories about him, and make sure no one in the clan ever forget him, or his legacy.