Warriors: Pebblescar's Reality

Chapter 15

Minnowfrost's light blue eyes were wide as she stood beside Troutstar, her legs shaking like a fish stranded on land. Pebblescar's gone, a voice rang inside her head. He's gone insane. Off the wall. As crazy as a bat. They told her the truth, but she didn't want to listen.

Finally, the slim gray cat in front of her spoke. "We're sorry for what our warrior did. We do not control him, and we do not represent him. He shows that not every group of cats can produce only perfect warriors. Pebblescar was evil, and he's dead now, wherever he is." Troutstar cast a glance at the splash of blood that the cats were roughly circled around. "He's gone."
The tom dipped his head, but the rogues were going to have none of this.

A slim white warrior lifted her head, anger broiling in her gaze. Her eyes were narrowed with spite. "But, it seems that this cat—Pebblescar—has not only killed our leader. . . he's caused great devastation to your, uh, Clan, am I right?" Troutstar slowly nodded. "And, like that brown she-cat said." She flicked her tail toward Glimmerstream. "You've ignored that blatant truth." The rogue's voice rose into a wail of panic. "You harbored and cared for and fed and protected this murderer!"

"Attack!" shouted one of the rogues, and Minnowfrost could only watch as a horde of mangy-pelted rogues launched themselves toward RiverClan.

Troutstar was challenged by the lithe she-cat who has just been speaking. Her body was small, but the fiery determination in her narrowed eyes made Minnowfrost concerned for her dear leader's life. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, but before the warrior could leap to save her leader, a ball of black fur barreled into her.

"Help!" the cry rang out of her throat as claws unsheathed, sinking into the soft flesh of her belly. The blood had only began to pour out as Minnowfrost pulled away, the pain blinded by anger. "You—you," the silver she-cat spat, staring into the eyes of her opponent. It was then that she realized that this was no battle between Clans. This wasn't a battle of surrendering and emotion. This was a battle of true skill, a testament to the cats' training. The winner will be the only one left standing.

It was this that drove Minnowfrost to ignore the kit-fluff that lingered between layers of fur on her opponent's face. It was this that made her avoid the tiny cat's eyes. It was this that tore her claws out of the ground and tossed her forward, her claws sinking into the tom's soft pelt. Flesh tore as she sunk her teeth into the young rogue's shoulder. An overwhelming sense of  guilt overcame her as the tom's blood-curling scream echoed through the trees. I killed him. The tom's body fell limp.

Minnowfrost pulled away with a heavy weight in her belly. Is this how Pebblescar feels after he kills? Is this what he felt as his claws tore through   Cinderclaw's body? Is this what it feels like to be a. . . a murderer?

No, this is different. This is battle. This is RiverClan versus the rogues. This isn't just a pointless act of jealously. We're defending our territory. But Minnowfrost could only listen to her feeble attempts at justifying her actions as she leaped over Troutstar, hitting the she-cat's head with a unsheathed paw.

A thump echoed through Minnowfrost's body as Troutstar cast a grateful glance at her, his hazel eyes shadowed with grief. The gray-and-white she-cat was still breathing, thankfully. She blinked swiftly and leaped back into battle.

* * *

Pebblescar hummed to himself as he wandered through the forest, his mind seemingly clear and vastly empty. The towering trees didn't intimate him as his jaw hung open, capturing the wafting scents of the ThunderClan border.

A cat!

His ears perked up, swiveling to collect sound. The young cat was rustling through the bracken, like he was looking for something, and he hadn't appeared to have noticed Pebblescar. The dark gray tom's tail swept across the dirt; his eyes narrowed as he following the tom's movements. An apprentice, surely. As the RiverClan cat moved closer into view, Pebblescar recognized him as the recently-appointed medicine cat apprentice. His name was Thrushpaw, and like the bird he was named for, the brown tabby was searching through the bracken for plants to gather.

Finally, Pebblescar let a rough purr escape his jaw, and he stepped forward, the small movement created an echoing sound as claws unsheathed, sinking into the flood-soaked soil. Thrushpaw froze; he tossed a glance over at the dark gray tom.

"You're—you're supposed to be exiled," sputtered the brown tabby, dropping the mouthful of leaves. Pebblescar let a look of skepticism enter his eyes as he took another step.

Clunk.

The dark gray tom kicked a small pebble, watching it hit the root of a tree and roll back down. "Oh, you look so innocent," the RiverClan cat purred, flexing his claws in the dirt. "So innocent. I used to be like that too. Until I discovered the truth—the world is out to get you, and you have to beat it first." Before Thrushpaw could respond, Pebblescar launched himself into the air, paws stretching forward in one fluid motion. His teeth grasped the tiny tom's shoulder.

The RiverClan tom lifted Thrushpaw into the air, giving him a good shake. The tom's eyes rolled into the back of his head; they had been filled with a pure, potent fear that made even Pebblescar shudder under his mask of a cold murderer. Pebblescar dropped him and drew his claw across the apprentice's cheek, purring as a drop of red plopped onto the ground, staining the earth in a spiderweb pattern.

"What's a little apprentice doing so far from camp?" he asked, his voice low.

"I - I - battle - rogues - Clan -"

Pebblescar snarled. "Really, now? Those rogues have caused a battle?" He threw back his head and laughed. "As I told you, apprentice. Everybody's out to get you."

"I - I-" the apprentice tried to respond, but his throat had been seized by fear and there was nothing he could do but stare with wide eyes.

"Everybody in the whole wide world," Pebblescar hissed under his breath, and he sunk his claws into the tom's throat.

Written by the Rio, and edited by de Lightning along with Duskie.