Post by 🍁Searipple101🍁 on Apr 11, 2017 17:44:36 GMT -5
I was digging around in my documents, and I found this older one-shot from the old forums. So, I decided why not put it up here? I realize it's not the best, but I like it simply because it's like an old memory. Enjoy! :3
A dark shape moved swiftly through the undergrowth, darting between brambles and under ferns. Obediently, a garrison of similar shapes followed behind, at least 30 of them. The leader soon stopped at the top of a high ridge whose slope fell steeply, but not steeply enough that it was very dangerous to descend. However, the dark figure remained at the top, its troops lining up behind it as they awaited orders.
The head shadow peered down from the top of the ridge at the quiet clan camp. It was only dusk, so the cats of the clan had only just settled in their dens for the night. Envy washed over the figure. How dare they sleep so comfortably in their warm dens? They thought they were so safe down there behind their bramble walls. That's why they would never see this coming. Yet, what fun would it be if it all happened while they were asleep? It would be so unsportsmanlike too. It let out a loud yowl, the shrill sound echoing through the trees to wake every cat.
As expected, the camp soon murmured to life. Cats were easily awakened by the harsh noise and peeked out from their dens, their eyelids still heavy with sleep. Another yowl was made, and the cats looked up towards the ridge. Shock soon began to fill their eyes, replacing the previous grogginess.
At that moment, a ginger tabby tom emerged from a hole under a mighty oak's roots. His blue eyes glisened in the low light as his gaze traveled up to the ridge. Unlike the other clan cats, he seemed less surprised to see his old friend back. It was not a happy reunion, though. The sight of this cat could only bad omens.
A grey cloud that had covered the moon departed, letting silver light stream down upon the shadow ont he ridge. Revealed, was a dark grey molted tom, his pelt long and well-groomed, and eyes of pure ice, in color and expression. Behind him sat rows and rows of multi-colored cats, their gazes stern and concentrated only on the camp. "Greetings, Flamestar. It's been a while," the gray tom meowed, his voice deep and sly.
"Ashstrike. Why have you come back? You have been exiled! I gave you a warning, and you should have headed it! You are not welcome here!" the ginger tom known as Flamestar hissed. His claws sank deep into the brown soil, while the fur along the ridge of his spine started to lift.
Ashstrike remained easily calm, a flash of amusement in his icy eyes. "I had to come back and repay you for what you did to me. It would be so unkind of me to not do so. And look! I've brought friends!" He nodded to his left and right at the cats who still had said nothing. "They're so much nicer than you, and they actually respect me."
"You know you deserved what you've gotten! You killed Lizardtooth, Hollystripes, and Sunpatch! Not to mention my mate, Snowfeather! You killed them all in cold blood! You should be happy I only exiled you and didn't kill you!" Flamestar snarled, rage building up more and more inside him. "I treated you fairly. Even if your father was a killer, I treated you right! I tried my best to set you on the right path, to guide you along to a bright future, but you tossed it all away! Even when the other cats in the clan resented you, I thought of you as my own! You think I didn't see the looks you got? That I didn't hear the whispers too? I did, but I still tried. It was your own fault this happened!"
Ashstrike looked down upon him and started to chuckle. "Are you serious? You're still so blind?" he asked with laughter bouncing his voice, but he cut it off abruptly, growing deathly serious. "I told you, I didn't kill them. I told you who did. It's your fault for not believing me. I wasted my life trying to be good! I worked hard to clean myself of my father's name. Dawn until dusk I would train, or hunt, or clean the elder's den. Even when I wasn't asked, I would pick carefully through their bedding, getting each and every piece of soiled moss out with my own claws! I would sift through their fur, picking out any fleas and ticks I could find. And how do you repay me? By accusing me of killing four of my own clanmates in cold blood, when the real killer gets away scott free and still sleeps among you!"
"Adderfur did nothing wrong! He could hardly even stand when we found the scene. He was the one on the ground, battered with his fur all over the dirt. You were the one standing over him with blood on your claws and the bodies of our friends strewn about like fallen leaves after the wind! I might not know why, but I know it was you who killed the patrol," the ginger tom growled. By now, his fur was bushed out completely. Rage seared in his claws, as they were itching to just tear into this traitor.
"I was trying to stop him! Maybe I was going to kill him then, but that was because he killed the others! He was weak after fighting with them all, so it was the perfect opportunity to get rid of him, after he exterminated our friends," Ashstrike growled back, his own claws sinking into the rocky earth. His fur tried to lift, but he forced it to lie flat. "All my life, you've all called me a monster, the son of a killer. You all though i should have died a long time ago with the rest of my siblings. That incident only helped to fuel that hatred of me. No matter what I did, you all wanted me dead. You all called me a murderer." He paused, his blue eyes turning dark with sick and twisted amusement. "Well, now I've become exactly what you all thought I should be." With a flick of his tail, his army of cats bounded down the ridge, yowling battle cries as they rained down on the small clan camp.
A dark shape moved swiftly through the undergrowth, darting between brambles and under ferns. Obediently, a garrison of similar shapes followed behind, at least 30 of them. The leader soon stopped at the top of a high ridge whose slope fell steeply, but not steeply enough that it was very dangerous to descend. However, the dark figure remained at the top, its troops lining up behind it as they awaited orders.
The head shadow peered down from the top of the ridge at the quiet clan camp. It was only dusk, so the cats of the clan had only just settled in their dens for the night. Envy washed over the figure. How dare they sleep so comfortably in their warm dens? They thought they were so safe down there behind their bramble walls. That's why they would never see this coming. Yet, what fun would it be if it all happened while they were asleep? It would be so unsportsmanlike too. It let out a loud yowl, the shrill sound echoing through the trees to wake every cat.
As expected, the camp soon murmured to life. Cats were easily awakened by the harsh noise and peeked out from their dens, their eyelids still heavy with sleep. Another yowl was made, and the cats looked up towards the ridge. Shock soon began to fill their eyes, replacing the previous grogginess.
At that moment, a ginger tabby tom emerged from a hole under a mighty oak's roots. His blue eyes glisened in the low light as his gaze traveled up to the ridge. Unlike the other clan cats, he seemed less surprised to see his old friend back. It was not a happy reunion, though. The sight of this cat could only bad omens.
A grey cloud that had covered the moon departed, letting silver light stream down upon the shadow ont he ridge. Revealed, was a dark grey molted tom, his pelt long and well-groomed, and eyes of pure ice, in color and expression. Behind him sat rows and rows of multi-colored cats, their gazes stern and concentrated only on the camp. "Greetings, Flamestar. It's been a while," the gray tom meowed, his voice deep and sly.
"Ashstrike. Why have you come back? You have been exiled! I gave you a warning, and you should have headed it! You are not welcome here!" the ginger tom known as Flamestar hissed. His claws sank deep into the brown soil, while the fur along the ridge of his spine started to lift.
Ashstrike remained easily calm, a flash of amusement in his icy eyes. "I had to come back and repay you for what you did to me. It would be so unkind of me to not do so. And look! I've brought friends!" He nodded to his left and right at the cats who still had said nothing. "They're so much nicer than you, and they actually respect me."
"You know you deserved what you've gotten! You killed Lizardtooth, Hollystripes, and Sunpatch! Not to mention my mate, Snowfeather! You killed them all in cold blood! You should be happy I only exiled you and didn't kill you!" Flamestar snarled, rage building up more and more inside him. "I treated you fairly. Even if your father was a killer, I treated you right! I tried my best to set you on the right path, to guide you along to a bright future, but you tossed it all away! Even when the other cats in the clan resented you, I thought of you as my own! You think I didn't see the looks you got? That I didn't hear the whispers too? I did, but I still tried. It was your own fault this happened!"
Ashstrike looked down upon him and started to chuckle. "Are you serious? You're still so blind?" he asked with laughter bouncing his voice, but he cut it off abruptly, growing deathly serious. "I told you, I didn't kill them. I told you who did. It's your fault for not believing me. I wasted my life trying to be good! I worked hard to clean myself of my father's name. Dawn until dusk I would train, or hunt, or clean the elder's den. Even when I wasn't asked, I would pick carefully through their bedding, getting each and every piece of soiled moss out with my own claws! I would sift through their fur, picking out any fleas and ticks I could find. And how do you repay me? By accusing me of killing four of my own clanmates in cold blood, when the real killer gets away scott free and still sleeps among you!"
"Adderfur did nothing wrong! He could hardly even stand when we found the scene. He was the one on the ground, battered with his fur all over the dirt. You were the one standing over him with blood on your claws and the bodies of our friends strewn about like fallen leaves after the wind! I might not know why, but I know it was you who killed the patrol," the ginger tom growled. By now, his fur was bushed out completely. Rage seared in his claws, as they were itching to just tear into this traitor.
"I was trying to stop him! Maybe I was going to kill him then, but that was because he killed the others! He was weak after fighting with them all, so it was the perfect opportunity to get rid of him, after he exterminated our friends," Ashstrike growled back, his own claws sinking into the rocky earth. His fur tried to lift, but he forced it to lie flat. "All my life, you've all called me a monster, the son of a killer. You all though i should have died a long time ago with the rest of my siblings. That incident only helped to fuel that hatred of me. No matter what I did, you all wanted me dead. You all called me a murderer." He paused, his blue eyes turning dark with sick and twisted amusement. "Well, now I've become exactly what you all thought I should be." With a flick of his tail, his army of cats bounded down the ridge, yowling battle cries as they rained down on the small clan camp.
