𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 || 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

Rain pattered onto the barren clearing, slowly escalating to a downpour. Two cats, a black tom with a white stripe on his head, and a dark gray she-cat, met together in the shadows of a clearing. Their Clanmates had already gone to their nests and had settled in to sleep for the night.

     "This isn't right," the black tom said immediately. "The FrostClan cats did nothing to harm us. And you're just going to go with it?"

     The dark gray she-cat returned his gaze steadily. "I will follow in the paw steps of the leader before me. That is what I am doing."

     "But don't you see how wrong this is?" the tom persisted. He couldn't believe how calm his leader was about this. "You're making our cats train and patrol the borders instead of hunting! Look around at your warriors. Soon enough, they're going to be too weak to fight!" He couldn't help but bristle. He didn't care if he was being disrespectful to his leader. She was making mouse-brained decisions!

     The MoonClan leader's eyes flashed. "I'm doing what is right for the Clan!" she insisted. "If we don't train to fight, how can we get rid of those filthy mange-pelts?"

     "Mange-pelts!" the black tom scoffed. "They never did a thing to us."

     "Of course they are. They're getting in the way of our path to power! A good leader would fight for their Clan to remain victorious."

     The black tom sank his claws into the ground. "You're being so utterly mouse-brained! They did nothing to harm us."

     "She speaks the truth."

     Both the leader and the black tom turned to face a pretty ginger she-cat with small white splotches all over her fur. "Dawnbreeze," the leader meowed, "you were not invited to this meeting."

     "I am aware, Ryestar," Dawnbreeze responded. "But I overheard and figured I'd give this tom some words to think about." She turned to the black tom. "Power is everything, and if you want to be leader someday, you have to remember that. Don't you think so, Whitestrike?"

     "Of course, but—" Whitestrike broke off when he heard a warning yowl coming from someone in the camp.

     "FrostClan warriors!" a brown she-cat yowled. Her warning cry seemed to wake the entire Clan. A patrol of warriors was storming into the camp, and almost immediately a battle began. Whitestrike stood rigged in the clearing for a moment before he reluctantly leaped at his first enemy, a she-cat called Maplewish. The she-cat was already heading to him, her eyes green flames. He pinned her before she could pin him, and hissed, "Get out of here before anyone can hurt you!"

     "Why do you care what happens to me?" Maplewish asked with hostility and confusion in her voice.

     "Because you don't deserve this! Now go!" Whitestrike let go of the red she-cat. She turned, but instead of running she lashed out with her hind legs and caught Whitestrike straight in the chest, her thorn-sharp claws digging into his flesh and making him yowl with pain and alarm as he was thrown back.

     Maplewish leaped at him and pinned him down, one paw on his throat. She cuffed his ear and hissed into it. "You will pay for what you've done to my Clan."

     Whitestrike realized how willing these cats were to get rid of his Clan. We brought this upon ourselves, he realized as he looked into the she-cat's blazing green eyes.

     He stopped struggling and let himself go limp. Maplewish let him go, thinking she'd won, and let out a yelp of alarm as Whitestrike jumped out at her. They fought in the air for a heartbeat. Maplewish scratched Whitestrike's eye and Whitestrike immediately pinned him down, blood from his eye dripping onto the red she-cat's fur. The warrior kicked up, and Whitestrike jumped up and landed on the she-cat's side. Maplewish stood up, and Whitestrike took the moment to jump on her again. This time he let her flip him over, and he immediately kicked her belly, claws unsheathed.

     Maplewish let out a yowl of pain and fled back to the camp entrance.

     "What was that?" asked a voice behind Whitestrike. He whirled around to meet Softpad muzzle-to-muzzle. The white tom's blue eyes were blazing. "You told her to run? Because she didn't deserve this? What kind of deputy are you?"

     Whitestrike felt anger pulse through his veins. "A better deputy than you'd ever be!" he snarled. "What was this monstrosity ever for? Useless power?"

     "Power isn't useless," Softpad growled.

     "It is when there's no other Clan left to have power over!" Whitestrike retorted. He lashed out with a foreclaw and slashed at Softpad's muzzle. "I can't believe you've believed all of these lies! After everything! How can I call you a brother now if I know what you really are: a murderer! A liar."

     Softpad raised his paw to where Whitestrike clawed his muzzle and a little bit over his eye. "I never cared much for my kin, Whitestrike. You can't use that threat against me."

     "Ryestar!"

     "FrostClan, retreat!"

     "Ryestar!"

     Whitestrike twisted around to see what was going on. He could see the dark gray body of Ryestar on the ground, bleeding from countless wounds all over her. He rushed to her body. "Ryestar!"

     The gray leader opened her eyes. "Are they gone?" she rasped.

     "Very much," Whitestrike replied. He turned around to yowl for the MoonClan medicine cat, Sorrelstep. But Ryestar reached out with a paw to touch his to stop him. He looked at his leader in dismay. "But you're dying!"

     "There's no use," Ryestar whispered, her voice barely audible. Whitestrike had to lean in closer to hear her. "I'm on my last life, and I can already tell . . ." She trailed off, her eyelids fluttering in an attempt to keep them open.

     "Do not speak of that!" Whitestrike told her sternly. "I'm going to get—"

     Ryestar interrupted him. "No. You will be a strong leader, Whitestrike. Even if you don't believe in the ways of our leader before me. Your Clanmates will honor you. FrostClan will fear you. Our ancestors will honor you." Her paw on Whitestrike's own fell limp and her head lolled sideways as she drew in her last breath and became still.

     "Ryestar!" Whitestrike screeched. "Ryestar, wake up . . ."

     The dark gray she-cat was unresponsive.

     "Ryestar . . ." Whitestrike buried his muzzle in his dead leader's bloodied fur, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling it gave him. "I won't disappoint you," he whispered to his leader, even though he knew she didn't hear him. He was going to lead his Clan like an honorable leader would. He would try his very best.