[Phoenix]

At first, he wasn’t sure what had roused him from his fairly peaceful slumber, but whatever it was, it had him jolting rudely awake with a pounding heart and adrenaline racing through his veins. Deep in his hind brain, the prey instinct was on high alert, and he did not know why. It set him on edge. Fur prickling, he scanned the quiet den with wide eyes, hoping to spy any clue that could—

And then a loud shriek shattered the silence, and he knew, without question, that a previous cry just like that one was what had jerked him to consciousness in the first place.

The shouts began to grow in frequency and coherence – “Attack!” – and that growing prey instinct became utterly overwhelming, propelling him to his feet. Or trying to. Lurching to the side, he realized belatedly that in his alarm, he had forgotten that he was no longer the able-bodied young tom he used to be. As strong as saplings, his right legs quivered under his weight. The noise of the chaos spreading through the rest of camp was growing louder with each passing heartbeat, and he tore his gaze away from the entrance of the den to see the wide eyes of the other elders staring back at him. In a split second, he found himself nodding at the silent understanding that passed between them. Old age and a relatively easy life had begun to take its toll on their bodies, but for some, their days in the warriors den were not that far gone.

Gorsetail poked his head out of the den just in time to see a flood of shadowed figures pouring into camp, and the overwhelming scent that followed them had his fur standing even further on edge. NightClan. Retaliation, no doubt, for the successful attack on their patrol. Bitterness had his ears flattening against his head as he turned his gaze toward the nursery, which appeared thus far undisturbed. Bloodshed led only to further bloodshed, a violent cycle doomed to repeat itself. With unsheathed claws, he awkwardly limp-lumbered as fast as he could toward Feathercloud and her kits, hoping against hope that the darkness of the night could keep him hidden. He felt so slow, like he was moving against flood waters.

And war did not wait for those who could not keep up.

Searing fire raced across his side as a sudden force toppled him over to the left. Falling harshly on his side, stunned, he managed to drag in a few ragged breaths as he turned with wide eyes to see a NightClan cat standing over him with unsheathed claws and a nasty grin. His heart, his breath – everything – caught in his throat as the prey instinct had him freezing in a way that had never happened to him before. Coherent thought vanished, and his mind blanked. This was it. Caught utterly helpless, in the middle of his own camp, unable even to raise a claw in his own defense.

Fawn Taxx

Gorsetail

elder of treeclan

[Taxx]

As part of the first patrol, the one meant to rouse TreeClan and begin the attack, Jaystep had played his part well. He'd jumped the first cat he'd seen stumble from a den, sending them running after a heavy flurry of swipes and then spinning to look for his next victim. The camp had roused all too quickly, the sound of yowls and screeches ringing, bouncing back and forth off the walls of the tree that was the Clan's camp; pelts swirled like the water of the river, NightClan and TreeClan scents mingling in a way that was highly unpleasant.

But Jaystep was pleased; Darkstar's plan seemed to have worked perfectly. TreeClan had been caught unaware, waking to find their very home invaded, caught sleeping and struggling to mount a defense against NightClan's forces. A low purr rolled in Jaystep's throat as his gaze pinned on a cat: none other than TreeClan's former deputy. Once such an influential cat, now nothing more than an elder. He was wobbling as he walked, his pace slow and unsteady. He never even seemed to notice Jaystep as the black-and-white tom stalked him- not until he lashed out with a hefty blow to the former deputy's shoulder did the cripple turn wide eyes on him.

Jaystep's lips pulled back to show off his fangs in a cold smile as he stared down at Gorsetail. "What's wrong, Gorsetail? You seem to be having trouble. How far you've fallen." His next blow was just as deliberate as the first, claws lashing out to score across Gorsetail's cheek, blood staining the white fur of his toes; he pulled the paw back to inspect it, as casual as if he wasn't surrounded by screaming, warring cats. Leaning down, he whispered the next words into Gorsetail's ear, straddling the tom with one paw resting on his shoulder with his claws pricking into Gorsetail's skin. "Don't worry, I'll do you a mercy and put you out of your misery."

[Fawn]

Invasion. NightClan swarmed TreeClan's camp like a plague of locusts, splitting and warping the air with terror and confusion. Fearscent was heavy, coating Lionstar's mouth the second he stepped from the Ancient Stump. The taste of it made his stomach roil - but that was nothing, nothing, compared to the fire pouring through his blood. His body ignited, his soul burning as the world around him seemed to slow, giving golden eyes time to agonize over every striking claw, every bared fang. Every frightened face of his Clan. His kin. His family.

Lionstar's claws scoured the snow-slushed earth, his teeth snapping in the moonlight as he roared his fury. "TreeClan! Fight! Chase these rogues from our home!" Whether the rallying cry was lost in the chaos or not, so long as it stilled even one trembling heart, Lionstar did not regret it. Now was not a time of surprise. Or civility.

A shadow darted in Lionstar's peripheral vision and he struck, scouring a deep wound against the flank of his attacker. He swiped the smugness from their muzzle with a secondary strike that sprayed blood into their feverish yellow eyes. Such arrogance. Lionstar bore down on the scrambling form of the gray-furred body, pressing his weight into the muscle and bone of his opponent.

"Get out of my camp," he seethed. A gray ear flicked, the fearscent suddenly repugnant as it mixed with the murk-water tang of NightClan's natural odor. Lionstar pressed harder, wishing he could crush this so-called warrior into the earth, let the forest swallow him up like the rotten piece of crowfood he was.

A scent he knew by heart drifted across Lionstar's palate and through the encroaching haze of violence in his eyes. Gorsetail. Falconstorm's shape was briefly seen near the elders' den, and Lionstar had foolishly thought its occupants safe.

Foolish. StarClan, he had been so foolish.

Lionstar's attention snapped onto the semi-limp form of Gorsetail, moonlight reflecting off the wide, frightened eyes of the cat he had watched grow from small, unassuming Wormkit, into the honorable young deputy Lionstar had always believed he could be. NightClan had stolen Gorsetail's vitality, his voice, his strength, and the many more moons of service they had so joyfully anticipated.

NightClan sought to rob Gorsetail of all he had left: his life.

With a monstrous roar, Lionstar ripped his claws from the prone form of Ashfang and fell upon Gorsetail's attacker with a father's fury. Blood did not tie them together, he and Gorsetail, but nuance fell away in the face of this - this wretched attack on a cat who could not defend themselves. "You will die here, NightClanner." Lionstar spat, bowling the black and white tom off of Gorsetail's body in a spray of slush and torn fur. Massive paws gave Lionstar the balance and the traction he needed to stay standing. His muscles rippling, the moonlight spilling over dark tawny fur tipped in black, Lionstar stood between Gorsetail and Jaystep, his muzzle furrowed by a snarl.

You and every warrior who fights in Darkstar's name. This is where you fall.

533 Words || Phoenix Taxx ooc: oh he mad

[Phoenix]

Jaystep. From somewhere within the recesses of his mind, the name broke through the panicked haze clouding his thoughts – not that identifying his black and white attacker did much to quell the terror that set his heart racing. Though he never had reason to pay him much mind, the elder had seen the other tom in passing at one Gathering or another, but now he knew that the NightClan warrior’s face had forever been etched in his mind. Clear eyes that promised death. Bloodstained claws that promised suffering. His heart pounded against his ribs as though it alone could dislodge the weight of the tom above him, as though it could propel him out of danger. But his limbs had frozen with fear, struck by his helplessness and the utter futility of fighting back.

Was this how mice felt when the felines came stalking from the undergrowth?

But where his prey received a quick death, Jaystep seemed willing to draw his out. Gorsetail’s tabby head was whipped to the side, colliding harshly with the ground, as fresh wounds were opened across his face. Stunned, he blinked through the pain and felt blood beginning to wed his fur, eyes staring uncomprehendingly ahead of him. A moment passed, and then his gaze sharpened. Blurs of fur at the entrance to the nursery morphed into felines. Feathercloud! His body jolted with an instinctive desire to protect that cut through the frozen panic, and for the first time since he had been pinned, he found himself pushing weakly against the might of the other warrior.

Wide eyes turned back to face Jaystep as a heavy paw shoved down on his shoulder, claws digging ever so slightly into his fur. A black head bent towards his, and whispered words had him stilling as a fresh wave of horror crashed over him. ”N-N-“ He had to get to Feathercloud – he had to help her – he had to make sure Acornkit and Sagekit were alive – oh StarClan, please let them be safe! – they had their whole lives ahead of them and he wanted to be there to see them along every step of the way – he had to be there because they were his kits, his heart and soul – he wanted to be there – he wanted, he realized as he stared up at Jaystep, struggling as much as he could against the death promised in those clear eyes – he wanted to live.

StarClan heard his prayer. With a lion’s roar, a golden figure tore him from death’s claws. Flinching away from the tangle of flailing limbs, the elder pushed himself up on shaky limbs – staying on his back any longer made him feel too vulnerable, too exposed – to see Lionstar plant himself firmly between his former deputy and the NightClan assailant. Ears pressed back against his head, Gorsetail stared at Jaystep, helpless to stop the trembling that had set in. Standing beside the TreeClan leader’s formidable strength and deadly ferocity, he felt smaller than ever. Fragile. Weak.

A yowl tore his gaze away from Jaystep and had him stumbling the first few steps toward the nursery. “F-F-“ Feathercloud!


Fawn Taxx

Gorsetail

if you want to get out alive
run for your life

[Taxx]

It was the most pathetic sight: Gorsetail cowering on the ground, face twisted with fear as he stared up at Jaystep. This was so far from the former deputy he'd known, and to think all it had taken was one attack. He hadn't witnessed firsthand the ferocity with which Darkstorm, as she'd been then, had attacked. He'd only known from the tales his Clanmates had told, of the utter destruction she'd wrought against the tom, and hearing later on that it had been enough to require him to step down, replaced by Pumafang. Not until now had he realized, personally, just how damaged Gorsetail was. This? It was too easy.

"N-N-" he mocked, wicked delight gleaming in his eyes. "Are you trying to say 'No'? Aww, Wormtail, are you begging for your life? And you can't even get the words out. This is for your own good, trust me." His claws flexed, pressing deeper into the tom's skin... and then out of the corner of his eye he spotted Lionstar, the old leader's face a mask of fury and hatred, hurtling toward him. Jaystep spun to face him, but Lionstar's heavier form was more than powerful enough to knock Jaystep off his paws and send him rolling. When he had gained his feet again, Lionstar stood between him and Gorsetail, the snarled threat accompanied by all the signs of a cat more than ready to fight to the death. His own, or Jaystep's.

The black-and-white tom laughed, squaring his shoulders and lashing his tail. "Lionstar, how precious. You care so much for that... hm, what's a good word? That pitiful sack of bones. I was only doing him a favor, you know. What's he good for these days anyway? Stammering his way through tales for kits? Stumbling his way from den to den? Honestly, you'd think you'd want that miserable creature gone, then you wouldn't have to look at him every day and be reminded of how utterly useless he is."

Gorsetail, possibly trusting Lionstar to protect him, had started toward one of the dens, where a queen was fighting Sablefoot. Jaystep, with just the shortest glance away from Lionstar, turned to start to prowl toward the tabby tom again, a cold gleam in his eye as he stalked along.

[Fawn]

Lionstar

The crown is getting heavy
But they've written my name in the stars

Unforgiving claws found purchase on the black hide of the NightClan cat. With a mighty backward wrench, Lionstar dragged Jaystep away from the desperate, lurching form of Gorsetail. Through the red mist of battle, Lionstar was conscious that the former deputy was trying to get to the nursery instead of the elders' den. The nursery where Feathercloud would be. Feathercloud and her two kits.

The golden lion's heart ached for the tom with the warrior's heart trapped inside a ruined body. That ache, that wretched sense of unfairness welled up inside of Lionstar like an inferno, and he spat at Jaystep - hissed with the deadly certainty of someone who believed in every word absolutely.

"Silence! He is a thousand times the warrior you will ever be. This Clan will respect and honor him for countless moons for his service, for his sacrifice, for the strength of his soul. You," Lionstar dragged Jaystep back until the tom was practically beneath him. He unhooked his claws, pressing the full weight of his body into the bony length of Jaystep's neck, as though he intended to snap it. "You, are nothing more than a maggot on the festering corpse of your Clan's honor." Claws pricked the back of the warrior's neck, and he could practically feel the skin quivering at that razor-thin touch. Could practically feel the pulse of life. "If you're lucky," Lionstar pressed harder "maybe the worms will remember you."

NightClan had invaded his home. Frightened his family. Attacked warrior and queen and apprentice. The cruelty in Jaystep's eyes could never be forgotten. It was all the justification he needed to do what must be done. War promised death.

StarClan could consider this making good on that promise.

I've been building up all these kingdoms for so long
It's good to be king

108 Moons || TreeClan || 301 Words || Taxx Phoenix

[Phoenix]

With Lionstar here, he was safe. For so long TreeClan’s leader had been his guide, the north star by which he directed his life, and his steadfast presence promised protection from pain that never had Gorsetail questioned his assumption – though never had it been put to the test in such a way. But the instinctive relief he felt at the other tom’s arrival was ripped away as Jaystep’s harsh words clawed a fresh wound into his soul. His body may have been visibly weak, but his mind, that long sought-for purpose that was as vulnerable and shaky as a newborn, felt far more fragile. The tabby tom – that pitiful sack of bones – faltered in his attempts to move toward the nursery, green eyes wide and staring. What’s he good for these days anyway? Lionstar could protect his body; he could not, however, stop the words from echoing around in his head. Miserable. Useless.

What was he good for these days anyway?

The newborn stumbled and crashed to the ground. Helpless. He couldn’t hunt. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t train. He could barely walk, let alone talk. He felt like he had so much knowledge and experience to pass on to Acornkit and Sagekit, but surely he had nothing that Feathercloud and Sprucefur couldn’t already share with their offspring – and share in a much clearer, easier way. He wasn’t even good for feeding ticks, he realized with some bitterness; Appleshade groomed him every other day, and he was altogether too well taken care of to even give them the opportunity to bite. Well, perhaps if the worms didn’t remember Jaystep, they would remember him.

Useless. Yes. He could not deny that he was taking more than he was giving. Miserable. Unbidden, a small voice posed a question: miserable? He latched onto it with the desperation of a starving animal finding a single scrap of food. In his mind’s eye, he saw two tiny kittens curled up between their mother and father, the image sparking the memory of a warm, peaceful contentment. A happiness. A hope for the future. He had smiled and had the startling realization that it was genuine. His first in a long time – and that was truly when his days had changed from long and monotonous to something to anticipate once more. He had experienced misery, and this was not it. Feathercloud. Sprucefur. Sagekit. Acornkit. Family, not in blood but loved no less for it. He would do anything for them.

And they needed him, desperately.

Lionstar had said something about the strength of his soul, but as he forced his uncooperative body forward again, Gorsetail didn’t feel very strong. He felt tired and defeated. His cheek hurt. His side throbbed. He kept anticipating another surprise attack from the side, kept flinching away from movement in his periphery only to realize that his prey instinct had once again overreacted. The knowledge that the cats all around him were too distracted to notice him did nothing to quell the tidal waves of sheer vulnerability that repeated crashed over him. StarClan only knew how he could hope to help Feathercloud. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.


Fawn Taxx

Gorsetail

we shine until we fade

[Taxx]

Lionstar was quick to react, lashing out to sink his front claws into Jaystep's body and halting his progress after Gorsetail; the tom hissed at the pain of those thorn-sharp weapons and whipped around, slashing with one of his own paw at the golden leader's face; he was wrenched off his feet and dragged closer, his ears full of the snarled words proclaiming Gorsetail's bravery in the face of his disability, the honor he would be remembered with, and of course the scathing comment about how Jaystep would be recalled only for his cowardice.

The black-and-white tom sneered, defiant even now as Lionstar's full weight landed on his neck, the heavy pressure cutting off his air and rendering him helpless to wiggle free. For a moment he was still clear, striking out in an effort to drive the TreeClan cat off, every ounce of him rebelling at his inability to move freely- Lionstar, despite his age, was still formidable, and fury lent him strength in his desire to defend the stumbling old cat who Jaystep had targeted. The NightClan warrior fought on a moment longer, ears back and teeth bared as he wheezed dire threats, before he gave in.

Not gave up, mind you. All four paws remained braced tight against Lionstar's body, pushing with what strength he still had while he spoke. "NightClan will- remember me. You see me as the fox sneaking up on the quivering rabbit to finish what was already started, but they? They will see the honor with which I fought. After all, what's worth more than the life of a cat who gave their life in service of their Clan? Better that, than to end up like that doddering worthless excuse for a cat- and that's before you even acknowledge the fact that he's TreeClan."

He wouldn't end up like that. He refused to- he'd rather go out like this, and how better? He was getting old, no longer half as able to keep up with the younger, more exuberant cats of the Clan. Better to go out in battle, his memory always recalled in that he went out fighting, rather than growing old, wracked by the aches of age, wasting away as an elder. Like his son, who in a moment of foolish stupidity had ruined the long life he could have had. Prowess was encouraged: recklessness was not. Rookshade had made a mistake and was paying for it; Jaystep was choosing his end. Even to the last, he clung to his right to decide the outcome of his life.

With a violent twist of his body, Jaystep clawed free of the ton holding him down, mouth gaping as he lunged for Lionstar's throat, a ringing screech escaping him as he did so- proclaiming his loyalty to anyone who might hear. "For NightClan!"
Fawn Phoenix

[Fawn]

Lionstar

The crown is getting heavy
But they've written my name in the stars

Lionstar's eyes grew cold. The inferno still burned behind golden orbs, but that anger had hardened - cooled into an absolute sharpness designed to do nothing more than eviscerate. "For NightClan?" Jaystep lunged for his throat and Lionstar roared, altering his position so that the dark-furred tom slammed into the hard muscle and bone of his shoulder. With a whiplike reaction, Lionstar shoved Jaystep back - striking at his face, his ears, the bridge of his nose with unrelenting claws.

As if the very forest itself understood the condemnation in Lionstar's eyes, the dark-furred NightClanner lost his footing amongst the roots. Lionstar's weight crashed down upon Jaystep, crushing him as though he could squeeze the very life from Jaystep's body that he was so willing to give up. Teeth found fur, then skin.

Breathing hard, his lungs like bellows for the fire still burning inside of him, Lionstar pulled his jaws away from the limp body of Jaystep, his ears still whooshing with the pounding rush of adrenaline. "Your death only benefits TreeClan." Lionstar spat upon the corpse, and let the blood pour out to water the roots of the old oak that had given its assistance.

The fatigue of old age, the weary creak of bone and joint were felt like a distant memory - staved off by the need to protect, to rend, to avenge. Where one NightClan cat fell before his might, two more slipped out of the writhing shadows to leap upon him from both sides. One was the same gray-furred warrior he had chased away mere moments ago - returning this time with back up.

Lionstar planted his paws, steeling himself for the clash of wills. Darkstar was here, somewhere. If he had to carve a path through every wretched rogue to reach their rat queen, then so be it.

I've been building up all these kingdoms for so long
It's good to be king

108 Moons || TreeClan || 300 Words || Taxx Phoenix (Finished!)