Warriors: Pebblescar's Reality

Chapter 18

Pebblescar narrowed his eyes as he slithered underneath a bush, mud slowly seeping into his fur. The wet ground made his excursion all the more uncomfortable, but it also made it more powerful. He was here for a purpose, and not just shoving himself underneath a thorn bush.

"P—Pebblescar?" a voice called from inside the camp. He peered around the leaves to see Reedstorm's glowing green eyes staring him right in the face. Mouse dung! Pebblescar backed out of the bush, puffing out his fur and nimbly stepping backwards, practically taunting the other tom. Reedstorm took the bait, glancing over his shoulder and stepping out of camp.

"Well look at who the fox dragged in," Pebblescar spat bitterly, images of Minnowfrost hovering in the back of his mind. "It's little baby Reedstorm, who only needed someone else to slip up so he could become the deputy." Smirking, the dark gray tom seated himself, his tail curling around his paws tightly.

Reedstorm flexed his claws into the dirt, breathing steadily through his nostrils. "You know at the bottom of your gut—wait, I forgot you don't have one! Well, you know that Troutstar only chose you because of your mother." Satisfied with the juvenile comeback, the dark brown tom leaned for apprehensively, as if he was excited to loose to Pebblescar. I can't wait to sink my claws into his heart and tear it out. He swiped his tongue around his jaw before fully processing the other's toms words.

"We are not going to bring her into this!" Pebblescar yowled, leaping to his paws.

Reedstorm smirked. "Yes we are. You were only made deputy because she died in battle protecting Troutstar's little mate. And guess what, she even failed at that! He pitied you, Pebblescar. He pitied your dying father and your already dead soul."

"Oh, I never had a soul in the first place," Pebblescar purred, laughter weaving through his mew. At the speed of a WindClan cat, he leaped to his paws and zig-zagged forward, aiming straight for Reedstorm's neck. The attack seemed so futile against such a towering tom, but claws hit bone and the dark brown warrior fell, choking on his own blood.

"Can't even get back up, huh," taunted the dark gray tom. Reedstorm growled, leaping to his paws. The RiverClan cat didn't hesitate; he launched into a complicated move that made Pebblescar dizzy, trying to follow his path as he bolted left and right and up and down and behind him and in front of him. Finally, a paw struck underneath him, sinking into his belly and ripping out a chunk of flesh. Another set of claws raked over his back.

But Pebblescar didn't feel the pain. He was numb to it, just like he was numb to grief and happiness and delight and everything but bloodlust, anger, rage, and hatred.

Those last four emotions were definitely brewing in the pit of his belly as he sprung off the ground. Pebblescar darted in on Reedstorm, jaw opened. He grazed the tom's shoulder with his fangs, and while the RiverClan cat was distracted, Pebblescar leaped up on his back.

An almighty roar of anger escaped Reedstorm's muzzle as he bucked up, trying to rid himself of the murderous tom. Pebblescar was leaning forward, his fangs sinking into Reedstorm's scruff as the tom collapsed on his side. Delighted, the dark gray tom began to climb off, but the other warrior had a different plan in mind.

Reedstorm rolled over, pressing his shoulder blade into Pebblescar's throat.

"Get. . . off. . . me. . ." he managed to spit out, his muzzle touching Reedstorm's ear. "You. . . fatty!"

That was the final straw. With a howl so filled with hatred that it rung back into Pebblescar's ears, Reedstorm flipped off Pebblescar, rotating his body so he landed on his paws. But the dark gray tom wasn't about to give up. He opened his muzzle, letting his fangs shine in the morning sun.