(TAWNY,OPEN) StarClan help me!

[Deleted]

Lynxpaw struggled to breathe in. A huge fox held her down, gripping her throat in its deadly teeth. Pain struck her from every angle. She tried to kick at its belly but her paws met empty air. She flailed her paws, feeling one paw connect with something hard. She immediately dug her claws in. A cry of despair rang across the clearing and the fox fell back and vanished in a puff of smoke. The smoke grew and soon Lynx could see the flicker of flames through the stinging black air. Smoke filled her lungs, making her cough. Blood fell heavily on the bare ground and everything seemed to fade. Lynx fell, unconscious.

Lynxpaw jerked her head up, breathing hard. Her eyes were wild and scared. Visions of her nightmare clung to her like cobwebs; she shook her head to clear her frightened mind and climbed to her paws. Hoping she hadn't disturbed anyone with her thrashing, she scanned the bodies of cats around her.
She spotted Tawnypaws brown coat almost immediately and confusion and fear clouded her. Tawny always said that they were best friends, and maybe she thought they were. But every time Lynx hoped to be noticed, to be comforted, Tawny didn't seem to register that she was there. Always running off with Chewpaw.

Hollow sadness gripped at her heart. This Clan didn't seem to care about her. Pushing her way out of the den, she looked up at Silverpelt, twinkling in the heavens.
Does StarClan care about me? she wondered vainly.

Doubting her thoughts, she turned and started to pad slowly to the camp entrance. Her tail dragged on the ground and her head hung. Every event Lynx had experienced promised a wonderful time to come. But she couldn't wait for that time anymore. She couldn't wait for her clan mates to see her, to want her. She couldn't wait those moons– maybe years!– of sadness to stand out.

Lynx made her way through RiverClan territory. Her paws dragged on the ground and every step seemed to burden her even more. Her once beautiful black coat had become dull and a bit ragged, as if she didn't care to groom it anymore.

Instinctively, Lynx found herself at the gorge, looking down on the rivers foaming waters. She blinked slowly, her eyes clouded and distant. Her red scar flashed through one eye, a reminder of her past and future. Turning away, Lynxpaw padded back toward the protection of trees.
When she got there, she pricked her ears in suprise as fox-scent, strong and vile, hit her like a stone. Foxes hardly ever ventured into RiverClan territory. They liked the forest of ThunderClan better. But this one was close and fresh, it had maybe passed here five minutes ago.

Then a vicious snarling sounded loudly in her ears as a heavy weight slammed into her. Lynx's fears heightened as she claws ripped at her fur. She jerked her head back to stare into the foxes eyes.
It was the ugliest fox she had every seen. It was more than three times her height and twice her length. Its black muzzle was short and flat like a persians, just barely longer. Two big black eyes glared at her, filled with hatred and recent battles. Its long, dirty body was covered in scars, some fresh and still bleeding. Where a long bushy tail should have been was a skinny rat-like tail of bare skin, red and black hairs hardly covering it.

Lynx cried out in pain and immense fear. Never in her life had she experienced something so frightening. The fox batted at her body like it would rag doll. She went limp as claws raked down her back and belly, leaving long bloody scores. She tried vainly to fight back but her flailing paws met nothing.
Then she remembered her dream. Had it been a warning from StarClan about her future?

The fox rolled over tussling her and clawing her. At least it hadn't yet bitten her with its long fangs, stained with blood. The giant thing grabbed her in its jaws, biting down hard. She screamed in fear as pain struck her, like her dream, from every angle. Her body was bruised and dying quickly.

The fox shook her then threw her in the air. She landed fox-lengths away from it, dangerously close to the gorge. Before you could say 'mouse', the fox pounced and was upon her once more. Minutes seemed like moons as it tossed her now-limp body in the air and on the ground.
Finally it let go, backing away from her and studying its handiwork. It barked once then leaped at her, landing on top of her and pushing the breath out of her and crushing her body beneath it.

She no longer could press for life. Her battle was almost over and her consciousness was slipping away. Teeth connected with her throat and it held her down with one massive paw. Slowly shifting as the fox pushed more weight on her and dug its teeth in deeper, Lynx peered over the edge of the gorge. The roar of water rang in her ears, but it seemed like the buzzing of a fly now.

The fox finally pulled back, stepping of the broken and unrecognizable body of its prey. The bloody mass in front of it needed nothing more and it turned and loped into the trees.

Time was nothing now. Voices whispered in Lynx's ears but she heard nothing.
Her eyes were clouded with pain and blood, her ears were shredded; her body was covered with deep gashes the flowed with blood; her fur was matted with fresh blood, warm and sticky; her body was covered in the scars of her impossible battle, bruised, broken, bloody. No cat would recognize the tiny figure, smaller than ever now, huddled on the ground at the edge of the gorge. They would think it was just some loner, met by a horrible fate. Her fur color would be undecided.

Pain gripped at her mercilessly, filling her soul with a burden no cat should bare. She had minutes, maybe seconds, till death. But she wished it would come sooner. Lynx was no longer a black cat, but blood red.

Those beautiful blue eyes were dull and clouded; they reflected the death to come.
No description could make a picture as horrible and bloody that lay there right now.

With her last breath, Lynx turned and stareSilver peltrpelt through slitted and broken eyes.
"StarClan help me," she murmured.
Her head dropped and the struggling stopped as she slipped into unconsciousness.
She wasn't dead yet, but there wasn't even a glimmer of hope that she would live.
Right now, Lynx needed a miracle.

[Deleted]

[When your body wants to run]
[But your heart knows you're better than that]
[The blood you spilled on battlefield]

[Nor will I leave you stranded]
[The promise rings as our battle cry]


Check It !


In the hindsight, the shiny black warrior would probably view her choice to stalk out of camp and play the loner as a very stupid one. She'd done it before, of course, and with success; pretending to be someone else was always a good distraction. She had never, of course, been subject to battling a horrendous monster whilst out cavorting along, and this, she found, just wasn't what she cared to do.

Oh, it was all fine and dandy, really; the fight brought out the blood lust that lurked deep within her, and the adrenaline flushed through her synapses and set them afire. Her eyes danced with a sort of ruthlessness, and she was genuinely enjoying the displaying of wily wits and battle prowess. It made her feel dangerous, and powerful. A well-placed slash of claws here, a fierce display of fangs there. She was a beast!

The creature she opposed, too, was a beast, however. That's what made the entire situation fun. Of course, the mutt reeked of blood, some of it stale and long-spilt, some fresh as the breeze. The fresh blood only served to anger the she-cat. This was her territory, hers! No mangy, flea-bitten, moused-brain piece of fox-fund fox was going to invade her home and feast and get away with it. Not on her watch!

The monster snapped at her, and she snarled from deep within her chest and slashed back at it with a pawful of dutifully honed talons. They connected, ripping along the mangled flesh of the creature's muzzle. The beast jerked back while the hooked claws were still embedded in the flesh, and it was with a sickeningly clear sound that the claws tore out through the flesh. Later, her sheathes would hurt like nothing she'd ever felt before, but as it was, she barely even registered that they'd been yanked all the way out to the ends of the sheathes.

It seemed as if they battled forever, as if the fight had started but seconds ago. Breezefeather could hardly remember where they were, or what she had been doing before. All that was, was herself and the monster across from here. The tunnel-vision effect was the worse sort of weakness whilst in battle, and if a second assailant were to arrive, the ebony she-cat wouldn't stand a chance.

With a sort of fearlessness borne of lack of care, the she-cat reared up as the fox charged toward her, paws raised, claws extended, a ferocious snarl on her face as she uttered a mangled yowl, the meaningless syllables her tattered battle cry. She was Beast! Beast was her! They were Warrior! The fox came within reach, a blind soul, and she slammed her out-stretched legs with all the force she could muster, claws contracting the instant they made contact, sinking viciously into the tough hide and further on into the sweet flesh. The fox yelped and growled, muzzle snatching at her body; the warrior had already skipped over to the side to evade the fearsome mouth of bloodied fangs.

The body beneath her writhed and bucked, seeking to rid itself of her invasive assault. She clung on tenaciously, jumping onto the back and adjust her grip. Her fangs bit down onto the nape of the creature, and even as the horrid filth of the fur made her wretch and grimace with utter distaste, she bit down deeper, determined to not lose this chance to slay the invader. Her back claws began kicking and digging, seeking to wound, to injure, to cause pain. Her muzzle dug into the nape, questing for the spine.

Instinct dictated; Sever, triumph! Defeat this foe! Roar for the heavens, until even the Silverpelt and those within tremble with the force and ferocity of the the cry! Seek, destroy, win!

The fox twisted around, snapping back at Breezefeather in totally oblivion to the danger and thusly dislodging the feline's fangs from their deadly grip. It was jumping around, and rather than face the eventuality of being flung from the back of the animal, the warrior chose to preemptively fling herself off, all the while sending a parting slash the animal's way.

She landed on the ground and whirled around - never put your back to the enemy - and the fox was upon her, over her, rolling her over. The black cat howled it's rage, and in a maddened frenzy she kicked up at the tender underbelly, flailing and kicking and screaming for all she was worth. Lack of care notwithstanding, her innate sense of self-preservation came charging in right quickly with a righteous sense of vengeance. She raked her hind-claws down the belly of the beast with a fierce effort, and was rewarded with a deafening screech of pain.

The oppressive weight flung itself away, and the warrior jumped up, eyes fixated on the beast. It snarled at her, and she snarled back, her eyes narrowed to the most barest of slits, ears flattened, fangs bared aggressively. Her pelt bristled, the hairs stiffly erect as she threatened the dog-fox, her tail thrashing and whipping around. The fox stepped toward her, and she reared up with a scream before slamming two heavy paws back to the ground, claws scraping away grass and earth as if they weren't even there.

Just try it, she dared the other black beast with a flick of the tail and the kneading of her claws. The fox bunched its shoulders and rumbled out a growl. She reciprocated with a gravelling growl of her own. The she-cat stared at it, and it stared back. Long moments seemed to pass, hours and hours, or perhaps just an instant, and then the fox blinked. She was the triumphant of that contest, an intense sense of pleasure told her. At this sense of weakness, she drew her lips back in a silent snarl, and, suddenly, violently charged her opponent.

It didn't even hesitate to flee. If a vicious, snarling mass of violence and aggression that had already held its own in the fight was hurdling towards you with the full and wholehearted intent to kill, and you'd run, as well. As fast as you could. And run that beast did, tail tucked as a demented she-beast swarmed in after in hot pursuit. They ran far and fast, until they reach the river and plunging depths of the gorge.

The she-cat uttered a scream of fury and rage as she realized that she was losing the fox, it's longer legs and bitter scent of fear clearing giving it the upper hand. And when it jumped the gorge, she skidded to a halt, just barely stopping at the edge. As the beast fled, the warrior rampaged, spitting and screaming wordless cries of rage. How dare it flee like that, she seemed to be yelling.

She stalked along the edge of the gorge in mute determination, seeking a way to cross and maintain the chase; as the time passed and boiling blood cooled, she came to lose the desire to hear the hot red blood sing through the air, and it was as she patroled the river-edge that she came across the mangled body that lay in her path. It wasn't so much a body, anymore, as a mass of flesh and blood, of meat. Life pooled and congealed at her feet, and the she-cat felt a faint stab of pity. Whatever this had once been, it hadn't gone out pleasantly.

She bent down to sniff it, curious. It was still fresh enough that she could eat it, if she ignored the fact that it was her enemy who had taken it down. It smelled okay, though it reeked of blood in a way that was overwhelming; underneath that mask of blood and death scent, however, was a scent that was equally familiar, though not quite as gruesome.

It was the scent of Riverclan. Her clan.

Horror swamped through her. NOT AGAIN! her sense wailed. This sight was far too nostalgic, and it brought out all of the pain and fear and worry and terror she worked so hard to suppress. She had already lived through this! This same thing. The body mangled, too bloody to be recognized, the life and light gone. NO NO NO NO NO! she screamed within her head. Not this one!

In a senseless and thoroughly unhinged motion, the black she-cat searched out the head-end of the body and, once found, latched onto the scruff of the neck. The weight was as dead as it got, and her neck craned to support the weight. She would carry this one cat back to camp, though. She would not fail again.

[Deleted]

Bluesky appeared in front of Lynxpaw padding next to Breezefeather ,"hello,I'm Bluesky you don't know me,I was once a Thunderclan elder,"she said her starry figure was beautiful her gray pelt was light."Breezefeather can not see me,only you,"she meowed gently,"now I'm telling you this now but when ever you have a dream it will be from starclan,now ,"she mewed she licked the apprentice,"don't worry dear one you will be fine there is nothing to worry about,"she mewed,'but you can't tell any one about this,or great troubles will come to your clan.She stayed with her until she came to the Riverclan entrance.