Warriors; Claw's Carnage

Prolouge

Stars shone in the midnight sky as a tom paced back and forth with his tail lashing furiously.

"Calm down," sighed the cat, watching the tom with narrowed eyes.
"Why is it taking so long, then, Sharp!?" snapped the tom with anger as he lifted up his head.
Sharp rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry, I'm not a she-cat and don't kit kits."

The tom stopped pacing, his eyes glowering in the darkness to meet eyes with Sharp. "Talk with that attitude again, and the mission won't be the last of your problems."
Sharp yawned. "Yeaaaaah, but I'm kinda the only one in the group who can tolerate you."
"Would you prefer me killing you instead?"
"I'm good, thanks."

A yowl of agony split the silent night from stone den in front of them.
Sharp flattened his ears in what seemed to be some sort of empathy. "Owch, from the sound of that, that must hurt. Makes me glad I'm not a she-cat."
The tom narrowed his eyes. "Does that mean she's done or what?"

Sharp looked annoyed. "She must be sooooo lucky to have you as her mate."
He grunted. "Oh, grow up. What do you care? You've never had any interest in having a mate."
"Neither have you."

The tom flung his head, his claws unsheathed. "What's that supposed to mean!?"
Sharp stood his ground. "All I'm saying is, she-cats are cats too. Now, she's probably done by now. Congrats on becoming a father, I guess." Sharp then stalked off.

The tom snorted and padded towards the den, pushing himself through the lichen.

It was a small den, but it was well enough to be seen as a nursery. He could see a she-cat laying in the center of the den, on a moss bedding, curled, with a mewing bundle in her paws.
"Vole?" he called.

Vole sighed and lifted her head, smiling. "Would it kill you to smile to your kit?"
The tom forward, sitting down and narrowed his eyes. "Only one, I see."
"What, like you wanted more?"
"No, it's good."

The tom moved his muzzle where the kit, with its pathetic mews, lifted it's tiny paw to touch his chin. "What are they?" he quietly growled at the tiny kit, lifting his muzzle away.
"They're a cat."
"You know what I mean!" he hissed.
Vole sighed. "A tom."
He smiled. "Perfect."

He then narrowed his eyes. "He's rather...small."
Vole's fur bristled. "He was only just born!" Her eyes softened as she looked down on her kit and started grooming his belly. "He'll be bigger, I promise, and be my little strong son."
"Our son."
Vole didn't say anything, only letting out a snort.

The tom sat up, growling. "As long as he isn't a useless she-cat, he's good."
Vole flinched.

As the tom padded towards the exit, Vole widened her eyes. "What can we name him?"
The tom paused, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
He curled his lip in a grin, his sharpest teeth showing.

He then mewed, "We'll name him Claw."