[BlooRey DVD]

Fear.

It cut through the night air far more efficiently than any bitter cold, jolting the silver she-cat from any semblance of a restful sleep. Her heart leapt so violently into her throat that, as she scrambled clumsily to her paws, she wondered for a moment if she might throw up. Ice blue eyes were stretched wider than the full moon, pupils splayed wide in a desperate attempt to peer through the darkness and decipher what on earth was creating the caterwaul that woke her in the first place.

It was then that NightClan scent collided with her senses, nearly knocking her over with its intensity. They were here. Oh stars in Silverpelt above, NightClan was in their camp under cover of darkness. This alone would certainly unsettle even the fiercest of TreeClan warriors. But what she felt in that moment was so far passed something as insignificant as discomfort. It gripped her heart with such ferocity, she felt as though she could no longer breathe. Her chest refused to expand beneath its weight: she was certain she would drown.

“Mommy, what’s going on..?” A small, sleep-muffled voice whispered through the darkness.

Terror.

It swathed her in its stench, dragging her toward a pit of despair she’d been continuously clawing her way out of for the last season and a half. And the reason for it had just murmured to her in a squeaky voice, laced with fear and exhaustion. She wasn’t some warrior asleep in the Warrior’s den any longer. She was a queen, the guardian of two precious lives she had birthed into this world. Two lives that had caused her imaginable confusion and self doubt, feelings she continued to war against every waking moment when she thought the words ‘I can’t do this’.

She would never be the Clan’s best mother. Her kit hood had been tainted, blurred into nothing so that most days she tried to forget who her mother had been. She didn’t know the answer to the world’s questions, didn’t know what each day would bring her in the alien world that was motherhood. But there was one thing she knew for certain, one undeniable fact she felt in the deepest depths of her soul.

She would die for these kits, without hesitation.

“Acornkit, Sagekit, you have to be quiet now. Up, out of your nests. Remember where you like to hide when Gorsetail plays hide and seek with you in the den on rainy days? I need you both to go there now, and don’t make a sound until mommy or daddy come find you, okay?”

Two pairs of eyes blinked up at her, uncertain, wary, but unwilling to question their mother when her voice was as tight and quiet as it was. Little paws carried them to the back of the den, where they wriggled themselves beneath a collection of unused bedding. Though it killed her inside to drag her eyes from where she’d seen her kits disappear, the silver queen forced herself to turn around, before pushing toward the den’s entrance.

Chaos had erupted. In the short time it had taken her to haul herself from her panic and hide her kits away in the back of the den, the camp had dissolved into war. Bodies collided with one another, screeches filling the air. Feathercloud knew she couldn’t let any NightClan warrior through the entrance of the den. Not while she still breathed. She didn’t know if she could win, but…

All she had to do was buy enough time, right?

She had little time to assess the situation, blue eyes failing to spot Gorsetail and Lionstar dealing with a NightClan cat somewhere between the elder’s den and the nursery, for a brown figure with bright golden eyes slipped into her view. NightClan scent pooled from the detached tom as he stared her down, before a cruel smile tugged at the edges of his maw.

“Well, well, well, what do you have hiding in there, little lady?” He sneered, causing the silver queen’s hackles to raise along her shoulders.

Despite Sablefoot’s taunt, Feathercloud wasn’t what most would call little. She was average size, with a height advantage on many simply due to her long legs. Not willing to let him get under her skin, the darker-patterned silvery she-cat widened her stance so she blocked the entrance of the nursery near completely, teeth bared in a snarl despite the hammering of her heart in her chest.

“You’ll find out over my dead body, NightClan filth.” She hissed, her feathery tail flicking to and fro as she prepared for an attack. She refused to initiate, for that would necessitate she step out of her guarding position. I just need to buy time.

“My pleasure.” Came the response, half a heartbeat before the brown tom sprang at her. The air was knocked out of her lungs when his bulkier frame hit hers, leaving the she-cat to roll to her paws a little unsteadily. Her shoulder stung slightly where teeth had snapped at her, but she hardly paid it any mind. The brown tom’s sharp eyes flicked about the den, obviously in search of something, but before he could do much of an assessment, the queen snarled as she launched herself at his legs, swiping them from under him in one swift movement. His distraction had been her saving grace, for he collapsed in momentary shock.

Locking her teeth into his scruff, the leaner she-cat willed all the strength she possessed to forcibly drag the blindsided tom back toward the entrance. She had no idea if this made sense, if she should be capable of this. All she knew was she had to do it. Had to get him out, away from her kits. Another heave dragged his head and shoulders clear of the nursery entrance, and as he shifted to try to find purchase on her, Feathercloud sunk her claws into his flank to haul him into the open. He snarled furiously, turning to sink his teeth into her foreleg. She yowled involuntarily, failing to see him right himself and leap again.

She hit the ground shoulder first, pinned beneath his weight. The queen had little room to move, barely managing to twist herself so she could kick at his stomach with her hind paws. Doing everything she could to simultaneously bury her claws into the soft skin of his underbelly and push her forepaws into his chest and throat in a desperate attempt to keep his jaws away from her throat, the tiring queen could do little else but toss an icy eyed glance into the darkness of the nursery. She had refused to let him enter. She’d made sure that so long as she was there, he would not set foot past the first nest in the confines of the nursery.

But as her bleeding foreleg throbbed, and her motherhood-softened body’s energy began to dwindle, she could feel those teeth get nearer. Warm breath burst over her features as she tilted her muzzle away, desperately attempting to sink away from the danger that advanced.

StarClan, please… Whatever happens to me, save them.

Fawn Phoenix

[Phoenix]

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.

With every step he made toward Feathercloud, the nursery seemed to back away two more steps, and the distance stretched for miles. He felt like he was walking upstream, trying desperately to push against the force of a current far stronger than him. Strength - where was that strength Lionstar seemed to sure he had? It wasn’t in his attacks, where he had frozen up like a rabbit in the face of slaughter. It wasn’t in his weakened right limbs or struggle of trying to move with haste despite his inability to trust half his legs to hold his weight. It wasn’t in his bleeding cheek and bruised and bloodied side, where the separate complaints had merged into one massive, throbbing pain. It wasn’t in his heart, either, which felt a mere hair’s breadth from collapsing from the worry and the stress and the sheer frustration from being so helpless.

No, as he made his way across the miles and miles stretching between him and the nursery, he felt less like the warrior he wanted to be and more like the elder he had become.

His injuries had weakened him, but long days in the elder’s den and the nursery had taken what strength remained and turned it into softness. Defending himself and his loved ones had always been a priority of his - indeed, that had been the primary reason he had worked so hard to hone his fighting skills - but until now, he hadn’t realized how much he took for granted the trust that he’d had in his ability to do whatever it took to protect those who needed it most. Now that he couldn’t, now that his shortcomings had been exposed so clearly to him and what felt like the world - (what was he good for these days anyway? He wasn’t so sure) - he felt like the foundation on which he stood had suddenly shifted. No longer could he take a blow for someone else and roll with it, hopping back up to retaliate or rush to the defense of another. But when his family’s lives were in the line, inaction was never an option.

Distracted as he was by the panicked queen he had pinned beneath him, the NightClan warrior did not notice the tabby elder limping toward him from the side. He saw neither the snarl contorting the elder’s usually mild expression nor the blood matting his fur. If looks could kill, Sablefoot would have long since been sent to StarClan. Green eyes blazed with fury - how dare you touch a single hair in her pelt - and he rushed forward with a yowl and fire in his heart, shoulder harshly colliding with the soft side of the NightClan cat as the force of his body weight topped them over and off of Feathercloud.

Head collided with the ground, stunning him for a moment, before he clawed at Sablefoot in an uncoordinated mess of limbs. Curling around, he bit at one of the warrior’s legs. A pained screech from beneath him. Blood filled his mouth, but he hesitated only a moment before anger drove him to clamp down with all his strength. This tom had not only targeted the nursery, where innocent lives had rested, but he had also had the audacity to attack Gorsetail’s home and family. And expect to get away with it. Not while I’m still breathing. He thought of the tiny kits hopefully well-hidden somewhere in the den and his molten anger solidified into a razor sharp resolve. This was for Acornkit and for Sagekit. It was for Feathercloud and Sprucefur and Nightsky and Ivyclaw and Finchcloud. It was for every single TreeClanner who was fighting for their lives tonight.

Because if he could take down even a single opponent, it was one less warrior who could hurt someone he loved. There would be no vigils at the end of the night.

Not for TreeClan.

BlooRey DVD Fawn

[Fawn]

He couldn't breathe. Feathercloud's bloodscent reached him in the fog of war. Yellow-green eyes whipped around, struggling to see through a scratched right eye as the blood dripped over his cheek and nose bridge. A NightClan warrior had jumped him at the camp's entrance, but he had emerged the victor - throwing his opponent into the waiting claws of his Clanmates as he put all his focus, all his energy, into reaching Feathercloud.

StarClan, he was almost too late.

A stocky brown NightClan tom bore down on a desperately struggling Feathercloud, his mate straining to keep free of the teeth trying to hone in on her neck. Gorsetail - brave, selfless Gorsetail - had clamped his teeth around the leg of the dark-furred fiend.

The world seemed to slow for Sprucefur, and yet speed up with the aggressive rush of blood pumping through his system, every part of him so eager to cross the distance separating him from the nursery. One moment passed and he was there, his pelt brushing Gorsetail's as he grabbed Sablefoot by the other leg; with a frantic look at Gorsetail, together they ruined Sablefoot's balance - dragging him off of Feathercloud.

Sprucefur bit hard. So hard he could taste the foul blood of Feathercloud's attacker. It did not fill him with unbridled rage; anger had never been an emotion he channeled into fighting. Instead, Sprucefur felt only clarity of purpose; that deep-seeded belief that he would do whatever must be done to ensure his friends and family survived.

Flashes of Acornkit's and Sagekit's tiny faces inside his mind made him shudder violently. He would do anything to protect them. Anything.

Sablefoot screeched, reeling back to swipe with razor sharp claws across the faces of the two cats attacking him. Sprucefur hissed in pain, feeling whatever sharp sting scratch in his right eye seeming to double. He dropped the tom's leg, but only to free up his mouth for speaking.

"You have kits of your own!" Sprucefur panted. "Leave, and you will see them again." Keep threatening mine, and I will fight until there is nothing left of you but the mistakes you've made.

BlooRey DVD Phoenix
(KARAZHAL for Sagekit mention!)
Words: 350~