[Abyss]

It came rushing forth all at once. Searing pain throughout the body, crashing down the moment that the adrenaline had finally released its painless grip upon the mind and chest. A deep ache, as bold as a crash of thunder, set in on the shoulders, sides, and chest. The ever growing numbness that had found it's way into the paws grew stronger, leaving one with an infuriatingly questionable mixture of stinging pain and no feeling at all. The aches that accompanied the overexertion of activity within the legs shot upwards, joining the shoulders in their own misery.

But all of this, as miserable as it was, hardly compared to the raging fire that ignited across the Warrioress' face and right ear. The chill of the snow had temporarily numbed the senses within her head, allowing the obvious pain to feel like nothing. But the moment that the light yet large snowflakes no longer pounded against her body, this fire returned with a vengeance. Scorching pain erupted within what remained of her ear and slashed diagonally across the center of her face, beginning from above one eye and ending beneath the other. With her feeling returning, she could feel blood, half dried and half fresh, pooled at her ear. The red liquid dripped from her face, curving around her angled brow, her wrinkled muzzle, and her tightly clamped jaws.

An audible raspy snarl erupted from those jaws as soon as her body had met with the hard ground of the small cave. Her tail lashed behind her like a thin tree in a raging storm, her claws scraping against the stone beneath her and sending chills through her already painful legs.

"Damn that Nightclan scum, " came a low growl under her breath, closing her eyes in any attempt to dull the pain, though found no relief. Although she despised it, the Treeclan Warrioress had to admit that, for such an old and frail cat, that elder had packed quite a punch. The fact that a Nightclan elder had done as much damage as she did was aggravating, and slightly concerning. Nightclan Warriors had attacked the camp and done a lot of damage on their own. If all of their elders were able to tear ears in half and toss younger Warriors aside, she could only imagine what it would be like if Treeclan returned the favor in that swamp. Though, much to her own credit, at least now there was one less rogue in the neighboring swamp to deal with.

It was unclear of exactly how long Foxfire laid there, her back against the cave wall and her eyes closed, her body falling into a state of much needed but very painful rest. During this period, her mind switched between thinking about the pain that danced through her body like thorns and a replay of the situation. But, as the rest went on, her thoughts finally landed on one thing in particular, fiery orange eyes somewhat opening to peer at the dark figure next to her.

Pumafang. Treeclan's treasured Deputy. Lionstar's prized second-in-command. The same cat that had stolen those titles when she believed fully that she would be the one to receive them all those moons ago. How long had it been since that happened? Since the large brown tom's name had been called rather than her own? Since she disappeared from the camp for three days to simmer in her rage at the time? Since her father began to associate with her no longer? She was unsure. But she found that, now that he had suddenly stepped in to her mostly isolated life without permission, she found herself wondering when her rage had died down. When she had stopped thinking about becoming Deputy or about him being promoted. When she focused on doing as she pleased rather than seeking out Lionstar's gaze.

Thin black pupils, still laced with anger from her battle, glared towards the bulky tom, her tail only lashing harder behind her.

When had he arrived to the scene? How long had he been there, watching as the two she-cats collided with claws and fangs bared? She did wish to know, but likely may not get an answer. Someone else may have been furious if he had been watching but hadn't helped when the battle began to turn away from her favor. But she wouldn't have wanted help. It was her own battle to fight. Plus, even if she had indeed wished for assistance, she would never ask him for help.

She found one question coming to mind as those intense eyes bore into the tom, though.

"Why did you help me?" Her voice came out as a low growl, tone a mixture of questioning and anger.

He had not helped her win the battle itself, but, for whatever reason, he had assisted her in hiding the evidence. He had nothing to do with anything that happened, nor did he have any business getting himself involved. Yet he had stepped forward, silently helping her pull the lifeless body before them to wherever they could put it. Did he realize what he had done? The fiery she-cat had killed a cat from another clan, and a clan that Lionstar was likely trying to get out of war with. She had already risked everything just by doing what she did. She could lie, she could deceive, she could cover her tracks. But should her deception be discovered, there was no telling what Lionstar would do to her. Despite that, Lionstar's own trusted Deputy helped her hide the evidence that could get her in a lot of trouble, putting himself in danger as well. She didn't understand. But she was determined to find out why.

955 | @jet

[Deleted]

BELIEVE IN STRENGTH

Pumafang

TREECLAN - WARRIOR - 45 MOONS

How disappointing. Pumafang thought, concealed by TreeClan’s brush and shadow.

It was amusing no less, watching the old, crippled Pinewhisker take on one of TreeClan’s strongest warriors. Her words had no backing, and as quickly as it had started, it ended. Amber eyes drank it all in from the sidelines, both of their crimson bodies stark against the white snow, evidence of their fight quickly disappearing in the strengthening blizzard.

War was his drug.

Pumafang’s heart pounded furiously in his chest, adrenaline making his limbs spark with energy. It was his stolid reputation that stayed his interference, though not long after Pinewhisker succumbed to her ignorance, he revealed himself with neither concern nor hesitation. Foxfire had an audience, and despite how much he wanted her to grovel in fear of being discovered (sadistically, due to no slight against him), Pumafang had done what he thought Timberfrost would have done for a clanmate.

He helped hide the body. In the middle of a snowstorm.

It was all a blur. Relocating Pinewhisker’s body to the border. Mutilating her in an attempt to make it look like a fox attack? The imagery, relational to situation, was…poetic. Pumafang shivered with something similar to glee. A tragic end for NightClan’s past leader. There would be no scents, no evidence of their involvement besides the whims of an enemy.

A noble cat orphaned from a young age by the overpowering hunger of a fox, murdered in the end by that same antagonist. Fact or fiction, so it would be.

His mate’s honor was a trait he was quite jealous of, and after the fact, when they had found a cave to shelter from the ice, he started to contemplate his enrollment in the event. Perhaps she wouldn’t have helped hide the body of a NightClan elder, murdered in cold blood? A faint smile creased Pumafang’s lips. Foxfire just became much more interesting. She was the only cat to have seen his morbid side. To have drawn it out of him before her eyes, whether she knew she did it or not. He fell for the bait, like a naive little kitten. There was a bond between them that was sealed by her actions.

They both had secrets revealed. He still felt Pinewhisker’s flesh rip and tear. It was a curious thing, the body. He hadn’t had the opportunity to casually open it up like that before. Foxfire’s voice pulled him from reveling in thoughts of blood and war.

Help? Confusion flashed before Pumafang’s dull, amber eyes. A moment of humanity.

“Ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.” Pumafang rumbled, making his way unhurriedly to the back of the cave where Foxfire lay. He crouched down on the ground before her and began to groom the moisture from his pelt, glancing at her wounds. Blood had caked the side of her face. There were scratches all over her body, though some weren’t as fresh as others.

Was he going to tell her he didn’t opt to help her at all? That he enjoyed every second of it? No. A simple, vague quote he heard from somewhere to justify her actions seemed to be substance enough. He was the more reticent type anyways, as were they both.

He was discovering a lot of similarities between him and Foxfire this evening, actually.

“Do you mind?” He offered, inching closer, gesturing to her facial wounds.

Despite how little he knew of medicine, he did understand that injuries could be dangerous without the proper care, and she wouldn’t be able to clean those wounds on her face by herself.

Word Count: 716
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Notes: xxx

[Abyss]

Narrowed amber-orange eyes watched as eyes of nearly the same shade turned towards her, a split moment of confusion crossing the normally emotionless tom’s features, before he returned to his mask. His words, ever calculated and worded with an irritating finesse, filled one red ear and caused the fiery femme’s already narrowed eyes to narrow further, if it were possible.

There was this odd feeling, a thought that his statement brought to her, that gave her a little bit more insight into the true nature of the tom before her, despite her being unable to care less. His words held meaning, one that took her a moment or two to pick apart and comprehend. When the intention behind them hit her, she felt the desire to growl growing within her throat.

Ignorance, or him acting as though he did not know what happened in the storm, partnered with the power he held as Deputy was practically a perfect defense against Lionstar, or, in his phrasing, justice. He had seen the fight. He had watched Foxfire kill that Nightclan cat. In truth, he could easily return to camp and inform their Leader of what he had seen. In that scenario, the red she-cat had a feeling that she would be heavily punished, or perhaps kicked from her own clan. But due to his actions in helping her hide the body, as well as his statement she was sure was referencing himself, it seemed as though he didn’t plan on doing that.

Of course, his words holding truth or not, this didn’t change her trust towards him. He was still, in some way or another, her enemy, or rival at the least. He, in his moons of Deputyship, had given her no reason to trust him. All she had seen him do was what Lionstar instructed, which was hardly anything worth mentioning in her eyes. For everything that Lionstar did was done so to bring peace or prevent further conflict.

Though, as of late, that sentiment didn’t hold entirely true. It had technically been Lionstar’s plan to drive a Nightclan patrol from the valley that brought forth the official declaration of war. There was likely going to be a war regardless of if he had done this, but the normally peace-desiring tom making the first big move was a surprise. He had, in that regard, earned a tad more trust from the temperamental Warrioress. This didn’t change her underlying dislike of him, though.

She hated to admit, and refused to, but the two situations were similar. Lionstar conducting an act of war against Nightclan had earned him more respect from her. In a like way, Pumafang arriving at the scene and hiding the victim of her murder, despite the consequences that could come with it, had gained him a sliver of the crimson she-cat’s trust. Only a sliver. Nothing more. Hardly enough to make a difference.

As the bulky brown tom settled nearby, licking the melted snow from his pelt, amber-orange eyes turned to face the entrance to the abandoned cave, watching as large snowflakes flashed passed and danced through the air violently. The deep burning within her ear and across her face continued to fuel her anger and rage, though her body couldn’t bring itself to use this furiosity for anything. She was too sore, too tired, too engulfed in pain, for her to move. She couldn’t remember how many times that old furbag threw her against the ice beneath their paws, her shoulders taking the brunt of the force. All that she could recall was those moments, those intense seconds, before the final blow was given to the enemy.

She remembered losing her footing, her shoulder hitting the ice below. The sudden stabs of pain that she felt in her ear, causing her to throw her head backwards. The sickening sound of her own ear ripping in the same eardrum. The bolt of burning and searing pain that cut down the center of her face, sending blood splattering across both her pelt and her enemy’s. Those few moments, as quickly as they had happened, had summoned more rage and fury in her chest than she had ever felt. Even the anger she felt when Pumafang became Deputy was hardly a worthy comparison to what she felt in that moment.

And then she ended it. Blood coated the inside of her mouth as her jaws closed as tight as they could around the old she-cat’s neck. Even now, in the time that her rage and adrenaline fizzled away, she could still taste the blood.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her head to snap to the side, pupils thin as grass locking onto the tom at her side as he seemed to inch closer. A low and somewhat audible growl rumbled through her throat, his offer only causing this to grow louder.

She didn’t want his help. She didn’t want it during the fight, she didn’t want it after, and she sure as hell didn’t want it now. If she had the energy for it, she would have been thrilled to rake her claw’s across his flank at the mere thought that she would let him touch her.

But, as much as she wished to, she could not. The most she could do was swat at him with unsheathed claws, likely bringing more pain to her shoulders. Due to her fury fading from the battle, even more pain was the last thing she desired.

Orange eyes narrowed further, glaring daggers into the eyes of the Deputy. Her long-furred tail lashed behind her, claws threatening to unsheathe more. A low growl fell from her jaws once more. But, with a flash of bared teeth, her head slowly turned, the right side of her face now in full sight. She knew she was covered in blood, both fresh and dried. She knew that she would probably get some sort of infection if these wounds weren’t taken care of. It was these thoughts alone that brought her to turn. Enraged eyes closed, refusing to take in the sight of him getting any closer. All she could do now was allow it to happen and attempt to not lash out the second she felt him make contact. It would be difficult, and she couldn’t guarantee his safety from the likes of her claws. But she had to get this taken care of, even if it was from him of all cats.

WORDS 1079 words @jet
OOC Sorry it's long lol

[Deleted]

BELIEVE IN STRENGTH

Pumafang

TREECLAN - WARRIOR - 45 MOONS

It was hardly an offense that boasted the usual ferocity of Foxfire, her weak swat and hiss.

Pumafang, if his face was capable of shedding an inkling of emotion, would have been quite smug. His clanmate, the she-cat he had often noticed hostility from, was at the mercy of his aid and still attempting to refuse it against all reason. He had trained himself to mimic the postures of others. It gave him a social edge, compensating for his inadequacies elsewhere. Though what happened next Pumafang had not quite accounted for.

Foxfire had given in.

The massive, chocolate black tom slowly leaned forward and began wicking away the blood from her facial wounds, the entire time replaying Pinewhisker's demise over and over in his head. Her death was hardly unfortunate. Foxfire had done the flea-ridden elder a favor. Although his respect for his clanmate hadn't dipped, frayed, or bowed, he did question if his new position of authority had sharpened Foxfire's character. If his promotion had pitted the she-cat against him. Though what he had noticed from her wasn't jealousy.

It was hate.

Hate, as if he had ruined her family.

Hate, as if he had shattered her dreams.

Pumafang stopped and pulled away from the she-cat with indistinct curiosity. He blinked, his amber eyes blank, tainted with a cryptic misery that even death itself would recoil from. His pupils had a depth to them like no other. They were pits filled with an icy decay. An odorless, tasteless, soundless, sightless cold that sent chills scuttling down spines of the weak.

But Foxfire wasn't weak. He had seen her fight. He had seen her resolve. In a way, as an opponent, he felt her power stir within him like a sister flame.

"I have been watching you." Pumafang growled monotonously, death lacing his words like icy poison. "Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power. Between the three of us, TreeClan, in essence, is untouchable."

Timberfrost could never be excluded. Her warrior potential was unparalleled to all others in the clan, besides Foxfire and Pumafang himself. Lionstar was old, and compassion made him weak. TreeClan needed altruistic guardians, a wall of protectors who weighed the clan's survival as a whole above all else. Both Pumafang and Timberfrost, although bound together by something similar to love yet something far more powerful than loyalty, would chose the clan over each other. They would chose a painful death if the longevity of TreeClan was at risk.

The difference between the two was that Timberfrost was genuinely loyal to the clan's image and existence.

To Pumafang, it was all an intriguing game. He just had to figure out how to win and master the art of war. Foxfire, he believed, would be paramount to his success.

"She wore her scars as her best attire." Pumafang whispered almost inaudibly. "A stunning dress made of hellfire."

His grandfather's tales of old came rushing back into his mind, stories of icons throughout the valley's history reflecting back at him through Foxfire's eyes. Power burned deep, and lust for the she-cat's alliance rushed through his veins. The irony of how history tends to repeat.

"Old ways won't open new doors, Foxfire."

Pumafang's voice was deep and quiet.

"I need your help."

Word Count: 557
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Notes: xxx

Abyss

[Abyss]

The moment the fiery red she-cat felt the tom's rough tongue touch the beginning of her wound, her face twisted into a mixture of a grimace and of rage. The cut, stretching long diagonally down her face, was the primary source of the searing agony that burned within her body. Granted, half of her ear was missing, likely still laying atop the ice that the short-lived battle had taken place on, slowly being covered in snow. This was also where most of the actual pain came from. But figuring out which one hurt more was a pointless task, for both brought with them the worst pain she had felt in her moons.

The stinging that shot through her head and neck at the contact, while extremely painful, brought more with it than just pain. Sure, the feeling of a prickly tongue running along an open wound wasn’t exactly comfortable or soothing, nor did it in any way take away the misery. But there was something else that this action caused within the Warrioress’ head and chest that she despised, something worse than pain: shame. Humiliation. Embarrassment.

These were things that the crimson Warrior never felt. She never hung her head low or allowed herself to be looked down on by others. She never allowed the opinions or actions of another to affect how she held herself. Her head was always raised, her chest pushed out proudly, and her chin raised in a display. A display that clearly stated that if anyone in the clan had the right to look down on others, it was her. She had proved herself so many times to the fools of Treeclan. She had been a part of the reason that those damned Nightclan cats on that patrol had ran with their tails between their legs. She had been a part of the reason those rogues fled the Treeclan camp after launching their attack on it, considering she had attacked two of the strongest Warriors she knew of in that pathetic clan.

Though, as much as she hated to do so, she had to give credit where credit was due. Timberfrost had also been a part of that little battle, taking on both Blackstag and Cobrastrike alongside her. She could hardly stand the icy she-cat, a practical polar opposite of Foxfire’s own blazing persona. The few times she had willingly spoke with the large brown tabby, she had seemed keen on referring to Foxfire as a squirrel due to her enjoyment for stalking through the trees. Irritation pinged in her head every time she even thought about those moments, the desire to run that annoyance through with her claws sky high. She was a Treeclan cat. If they did not use the trees to their advantage or even take use of them, what right did they have to call themselves Treeclan? Just because their territory was full of trees? How original.

Only momentarily lost in her thoughts, there was a very brief, hardly a second, moment of confusion when she no longer felt the sting of contact against her wounds. She only now found that the feeling of dried blood along the side of her face was no longer present, removed by the same source that had caused her pain during the action. She would never allow herself to feel grateful for it, even though no longer feeling her fur clumped together was indeed a relief.

Her head remained where it was, eyes still closed and unwilling to look at the tom who she had regretfully allowed to groom away that which tarnished her already deep red pelt. Her hypothetical brows twitched in irritation at the thought. But she did find herself unable to continue looking away when his voice, deep and emotionless, filled one ear with a curious statement.

Fire-orange eyes that matched her coat opened, head turning to aim her narrowed and still enraged gaze at her unfortunate companion. Her ignited pools challenged his own. Though his eyes were endless, like a giant hole with no end that could intimidate any who stared into them, they did not intimidate her, nor did he as a being. She took offense to his words, the fur along her spine raising. He had been watching her? Was that meant to be a threat? Her fangs began to bare at the mere concept that one of the cats she loathed the most within her clan had been watching her, regardless of the reasoning or purpose. Her own revealing of fangs halted, only because he continued speaking.

Oh how she hated the way he spoke. Every sentence was like a riddle, or some sentimental garbage that was intended to provoke deep and existential thought. Practically every word he spoke had some other unspoken meaning behind it, and it caused annoyance in every sense to fill her. His final words, as to be expected, also brought forth irritation, but in a different way than the other times during this whole ordeal.

‘Between the three of us’. For one, there was no us. Despite residing within the same clan, Foxfire did not associate herself with the likes of many of her clanmates, Pumafang especially. The only time that she did was in situations such as the raid on the clan’s camp, in which she fought against the attackers to defend the clan as a whole, even those she disliked.

As for the other little unfavorable bit of his statement, she didn’t even have to ask to know what he meant when he said three. Timberfrost. The fact that the brown tabby was within her mind for the second time in a row was infuriating, but she knew it was true. Pumafang and Timberfrost. Deputy and Warrior. Similar in many ways and also different. It was rare to see either of them going on a patrol or going hunting without the other. The constant inclusion of each other in everything was aggravating, especially since the two of them were two of Lionstar’s precious pets. She didn’t know what the relationship between them was, nor did she care even the slightest bit. But she found it unlikely that he would be referring to any cat other than her. The fact that he was putting her in the same category as them was even more exasperating.

He spoke once more, but this time his words were quiet, nearly unheard with the thundering snow raging passed the cave entrance paired with her current lack of hearing in one ear. She did not hear what he said, though she wasn’t sure she wished to know. Likely another riddle that she had no desire to decipher.

He spoke again, his voice growing even more irritating each time she heard it. But what he said...caught her off guard. He needed her help? What the hell was that supposed to mean? He needed her help with what? What exactly did he intend to do that required her assistance? Whatever it was, it only pissed her off further, causing a low growl to erupt from her throat.

“If you're expecting me to repay you for what you did, forget it. I never asked for your help, ” came a deep snarl from her throat, claws unsheathing beneath her. Perhaps that was what he was meaning, perhaps not. For her, it was up to I interpretation, since he didn't specify.

While she did indeed, in a way, refuse him in her mind, she still found herself curious as to what it was he had in mind. Even if she wanted nothing to do with it, learning the dear Deputy's plans could be useful. Perhaps, if she did not like the plan, she could instead find a way to ruin it. Just as he had ruined her plan all those moons ago.

WORDS 1301 words @jet
OOC Once again, so sorry x.x

[Deleted]

BELIEVE IN STRENGTH

Pumafang

TREECLAN - WARRIOR - 45 MOONS

"Suite yourself," Pumafang rumbled, averting his gaze to the relentless, white flurries outside the cave. His eyes traced the territory he knew like the back of his paw, the land now viciously shrouded in a veil of mysterious white. Their reality was fading as the blizzard intensified. It was far from over. "I would have thought you, of all TreeClan, would be most enticed by my offer."

He slowly pulled himself to his paws. If Foxfire didn't want to know, perhaps it was best left unsaid? Though Pumafang felt this dark, dangerous desire to upturn her bounds of sanity, to enrage the fires of her soul that could wreak havoc on the valley. She was interesting to say the least. Perhaps unstable. His fur raised ominously with pleasure, opportunity just one small step away. The question was, will Foxfire live up to her name? Or have the raging flames of her personality been stoked by inferiority, reduced to a weak spark kindled by jealousy?

It was worth it, just to find out.

Just as he turned around, his eyes noticed something shift in the back of the cave, a dark shadow. His hackles rose, and his amber gaze traced the beast's form. As if his nose had been frozen and finally thawed out, a rotten stench hit the back of his throat. "Foxfire." Pumafang rasped, eyes round. He had never seen or smelled something so dangerous in all his life.

A large badger slid from the shadows like a monster of old, rings of white making it appear almost ghostly. Something akin to a snarl and a growl erupted from the creatures maw as it lumbered closer, massive paws thudding against the ground as it mimicked the swaggering gait of a grizzly. Yellow-white claws sprang from its feet like fangs. The beasts eyes were hard and black, a cold heartlessness that rivaled his own.

What a beautiful creature. Pumafang marveled, eyes glistening with desire. His body shifted closer to the beast, mimicking that same heavy stride. TreeClan's deputy hissed, snarled, and growled, circling around the back into the shadows. The hunger in the animal's eyes was unreal. It sent bloodlust scuttling up Pumafang's spine from the tip of his thick tail to the base of his neck. An opponent worthy of his best, no doubt. What a trophy this creature would be. Pumafang could just see himself dragging this creature's body into camp, planting it by the fresh-kill pile and sending the clan to sleep with nightmares for moons upon moons.

This is power beyond measure. Pumafang thought, managing to distract the beast from Foxfire just long enough. Lost in his grandiose thoughts, Pumafang hardly noticed the creature charge forward until it all but crushed him into the ground. He felt teeth tear into his gut with more ferocity than anything he had ever encountered, one paw suffocating his head with a thundering smash, while the other pinned his haunches on the cave floor, claws digging into his flesh.

He had never been so close to death. Pumafang smiled as he was flailing, struggling, and eventually rolling out of the creature's deadly grip. He felt his skin rip and tear, but adrenaline numbed him from the pain. He heard jaws snap, and pressure on the side of his neck told him the creature made purchase.

Just a scratch. Pumafang thought, his claws raking across the creatures eyes and muzzle. He ripped free, facing the beast with his back arched and hackles raised.

"Nice try," Pumafang barked, voice laced with bone-chilling laughter. He heaved, tasting blood. "I won't go down that easily."

Finally, a monster like himself. A deathly coldness, somewhat as potent as his own.

If he died today, it would all have been worth it.

Word Count: 638
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Notes: xxx

[Abyss]

His words were disappointing, in all honesty. How quickly he gave up on his request only confirmed that it was likely something trivial that she had no wish to be a part of. Or at least this was what she had to assume based on what she gathered from the very brief and vague ideas he provided of said plan.

Fiery eyes narrowed further at his next words, long and spiked tail lashing behind her in annoyance. What was that supposed to mean? How was she one of the few he thought would agree to this plan of his? She, a cat who hated and was hated by her clan. She, the cat who had openly detested Pumafang's existence for moons now. She, one of those who had no regard for Lionstar's wishes or his desire to be peaceful or understanding of others. Though her fangs slowly began to bare as she thought these things, they suddenly stopped, slightly parting.

Those orange pools, previously furious and pained, now took on a different version of narrowment. Realization, partnered with confusion. That was why. Those were the reasons why he thought she would be the one to accept. A cat who despises their own clan, views the clan Leader as nothing more than a coward, and has equal hatred towards the giver of the request. Those were the kind of cats who often agreed to plans of certain goals and morals. But these plans were often...evil, in some way or another. This brought a sudden pique of interest. If this tom was bringing this scheme of his to her of all cats, believing she could help him, the chance of this being some happy and cheerful quest of redemption and friendship was unlikely. Of course, she would never agree to such a thing, but still.

"Coming to me, of all of your choices, with whatever this is, thinking i could help you. Obviously this isn't some meaningful ploy with the intent to do good." Her words held less of a snap and more of a firmness, her examination, in her own opinion, correct based on her revelations. Her eyes narrowed once more, the slight pain within her right brow being ignored in the action. "What sort of plot would cause you to seek my help?"

Those ignited orbs watched the tom as he moved about, those lifeless eyes staring into the snow. There was something about this tom that she just couldn't wrap her head around, something off. Not about the situation they found themselves in, but within him as a cat. At any given point, he seemed...lost, in a sense. As though he didn't belong to the world he found himself in. The way he spoke, his thought process, his ideals, his appearance. He was a cat, but also...not.

It then occurred to her. He was his namesake. He was a puma. A being of the wilds that kept to itself. Some mythical creature that the cats of the clans could only see in nightmares. He was a cat, but only in physicality. Inside, he was something else, something strange and different. Something dangerous. Her hatred for him did not falter, but her interest...there was a slow shift in the winds taking place.

As he turned, she expected an answer to her question, but what she received instead was something else new. There was something that crossed his face as he looked passed her, something that was satisfying to watch take place. Was this fear she sensed? Perhaps not. Perhaps Pumafang never felt fear. She did not know. But, to her own mind, this was fear that she caught momentarily take hold of his expression. Though, this brought forth the question. Fear of what?

Hearing his deep voice speak her name, it sent shivers down her spine, but not the good kind. It brought forth an unsheathing of claws and a slight bare of fangs. Her name had no place on his tongue.

The clicking of something behind her caused her to turn her head, eyes widening at what had really caught the Deputy's attention. Just what they needed at a time like this: a badger. How had neither of them scented the black and white creature within the time they had been in this damned cave? Perhaps a combination of numbness and some dried blood could account for her own lack of knowledge, but where was his excuse? Maybe this wasn't the time for excuses.

Typically, a cat's first instinct at seeing a predator this close would be to jump and run. But she did neither. She merely stared, watching as the creature slowly emerged from the shadows, looking over the two cats before it, one smelling faintly of blood and the other clearly injured.

She found herself suddenly locked within that black gaze, a pair of black voids full of nothing but a desire for blood. It reminded her of Pumafang's own gaze, in a way. The same lifelessness, the same coldness, the same black wall hiding a monster within. How was it that she found herself trapped between two beasts, both dangerous and both likely containing the drive and ability to rip her life from her in that moment? At this point, it wasn't a matter of when, it was a matter of who. A badger to her left, and a puma to her right. Surely one or the other was bound to tear her apart.

The eyes that had locked with her own unlocked, following the dark figure that moved around its side at the other side of the cave. She merely watched as the two beasts stood their ground against one another, the larger of the two charging forward. She expected Pumafang to move, to dodge, to charge back. But he did not. Confusion once more set in on that gaze as the pure black tom allowed himself to be thrown to the cave floor, long and thick claws digging into him like a piece of prey.

There was a moment during this, a moment where a new element came into play. Payback. A sort of dejavu, if you will. Two beings fighting to the death while another merely watched in the background. Sounded familiar. Seeing Pumafang be thrown around like a mouse, his skin torn by the likes of a beast bigger and stronger than him, his stomach bit into like a piece of moss, it was satisfying. There was a small smirk that crossed her features. The mighty Pumafang being thrown off his little pedestal by a creature with quite the advantage over him. It wasn't a fair fight, but that was ok. It didn't have to be fair to be entertaining.

But her smirk dimmed when she realized. He was smiling. As he was being torn into, as he was used as a scratching post, he was smiling. What sort of monster had she found herself being accompanied by in this storm? What in the world had she found herself roped into? She watched Puma roll and rip out of the badger's grip, tearing at its muzzle with his claws. Where had his fearlessness come from? Where did his clear disregard of death come from?

His words, a mixture of determination and laughter, filled the cave and sent further shivers along the she-cat's spine. He was something else. He was a puma in a cat's pelt.

As the two came to another standoff, there was a decision to be made. A badger versus a cat. The odds were not in the cat's favor, regardless of strength or willpower. Obviously the cat did not intend to back down, and the badger clearly wasn't going to either. So Foxfire had two options: attempt to attack the badger as well and assist her rival, or flee the cave and get herself back to camp, leaving him to die.

Truthfully, her choice was obvious. She had hated Pumafang for a long time. His promotion into Deputyship had done more than just raise his rank. It had changed her life, or at least a majority of it. She no longer had any connection to her father, or her mother, though that had already been established before this. Her desire to become the Deputy and eventual Leader of Treeclan diminished. Her constant seek of approval from Lionstar was wiped away. Her overall interest in her clanmates disappeared. Everything that she had been taught and worked for up until that point: gone. All because of Pumafang. But she could change that. This was her chance. She could leave. She could allow the badger to kill and eat Pumafang as much as it wished. She could go back to camp, telling the clan the story of how she had been thrown off her trail by the snowstorm. How the mighty Pumafang had helped her find shelter from the storm. How they wound up in a badger den, and attacked by the inhabitant of the cave. How they tried their hardest to fight it off, but it was too late. Pumafang had been knocked cold, his heart, or lack thereof, being torn apart by the badger's claws. How she tried to save him, how she tried to get his body and bring it back to those who cared for him and looked up to him. But the badger wouldn't let her, tearing into her face as it threw her from its den. How she managed to get herself to camp, using her knowledge of the territory, her nose, and her heart to guide her home. Treeclan would need a new Deputy. Lionstar would need a replacement. He was getting old, after all. She could take what was rightfully her's.

A snarl erupted from the badger's throat, staring down the dark opponent that stood before it. Puma shouted out his challenge to the beast, likely filling ears that did not understand. But his stance and that expression displayed his challenge easily enough. He would not stand down, and neither would the badger. They had come to a standstill. But it would not last long. Bloodlust fueling it once more, the badger rushed forward again, its front legs lifting and tearing, claws readying to slash down o the tom again.

There was a flash of crimson, a flash of fur and a whiz of air, that zipped passed Pumafang. The badger let out a wicked howl as sharp fangs latched around its ear and long claws dug at the side of its face and its shoulder. The beast stumbled backwards, shaking its head and swiping its paws wildly at the fiery red and blood-stained she-cat that clung to the side of its head. Fire, red and orange in rage, sparked brightly within those orange pools. Adrenaline slowly began to flow back into her veins as she ripped at the beast's flesh, the feeling similar to fighting that Pine whatever her name was. By this point she had forgotten. But it was different. Pinewhisker had been an elder, another cat who had a disadvantage. But this was a badger. This was a beast who held more strength than she did, especially while she was injured. That only made tearing at it all the more alluring. That howling that echoed in one of her ears, the smell and taste of its blood. It was oh so sweet.

The black, white, and now red creature began to whip its head to either side, trying its hardest to throw the cat from its head. And it did succeed. But not without consequence. It was not the badger's power or its effort that caused Foxfire's grip to release. It was her own doing. She slightly opened her jaws, and then closed them as hard as she could. At that moment, the beast threw its head to the side, causing both her and the ear she latched onto to go flying. She hit the rock ground with a thud, rolling once or twice towards the entrance of the cave, before she stopped.

Though she was clearly in pain, there was a look of enjoyment that crossed those pained eyes, her jaws holding the badger's ear proudly. This whole ordeal had caused her to lose part of one of her ears. It was only fair she did the same. She didn't have Pinewhisker here to get payback, so she chose the next best thing. Though she ached all over, she knew something had to be done. They couldn't kill this beast, not with just the two of them.

"Let's go, Pumafang!" Her voice was somewhat muffled, but the meaning was not lost. Rather, it was displayed as the deep red she-cat got unsteadily back to her paws as quick as she could, turning and leaping out of the cave into the storm. Though the white flurry of snow did cause most of her to disappear, only a faint red shape could be made out through the wall. They would have to improvise.

WORDS 2165 words @jet
OOC Once again, so sorry x.x

[Deleted]

BELIEVE IN STRENGTH

Pumafang

TREECLAN - WARRIOR - 45 MOONS

The calm before the turmoil.

Pumafang hardly saw Foxfire slam into the badger: he felt her. She was like a firestorm from the east, smashing into the beast like her namesake. His eyes drunk it in greedily, spirit hitting the back of his throat and turning him hot. Hot with fury. Hot with desire. His claws scraped against the rough rock beneath his paws. His onslaught was a blurr, fogged by the haze of bloodlust and shadow. He felt his claws and jaws meet fur, then flesh as they dug in. The deputy's eyes were closed, his face buried in the badger's sour smelling fur. He was waiting, slicing deeper and deeper, hoping to feel bone. Pumafang's heart beat slow, yet strong, pounding through his ears and rattling his sanity: his self control.

He felt like a god wreaking havoc on titans.

It was a breath, a moment later that he heard Foxfire call his name. He released his hold automatically, her demand sharp and cutting. He still hadn't quite shaken the subservience Goldenflame had beaten into him. Pumafang growled as the badger shoved him to the side violently. For a moment he felt weak. Like the prick of a thorn. He thought, unenthusiastic as his amber gaze bore into his opponent: into the wounds he had made, or lack thereof. Pumafang was growing soft protecting TreeClan from NightClan's shenanigans, though he didn't expect his savior to be the one he thought hated him most.

Not that he'd ever admit it. No one saved him. No one ever could. Pumafang smirked in the badger's umber. The beast swung its massive head in his direction, bloody carnage where its left ear once was. Pumafang looked on, unassuming. What once stood proud and stark was now just a pathetic, shredded stump.

Part of him was jealous, and part of him felt wounded.

If he didn't hear Foxfire's call, he wouldn't have stopped. Timberfrost could have been without a mate. TreeClan could have been without salvation. He was their God, and not even his demise would have convinced him otherwise. Even in the afterlife he would have found a way to sway their reality towards nothing other than prosperity: than victory and dominion. It is what he wanted them to become: the one clan to rule them all.

And that is what caused him to look away. To even consider retreat.

Pumafang felt the blizzard tug and pull at him like water, fluid and tranquil: cold and pure. Pumafang's eyes hardened with resolve, and one final look at the badger lumbering forward did little to intimidate him. He no longer felt fear from physical oppression. What scared him more, was Foxfire. As her crimson pelt vanished into the world of white, Pumafang retreated slowly. He wouldn't let her succumb to the blizzard, or so he justified his escape. She was the second in his lifetime. The second to weasel her way into his mind.

And Goldenflame had been the first.

Foxfire had convinced him, something he swore to himself he would never succumb to again. How, he did not know, and something akin to fear replaced that disappointment. The discontent that struck his tongue like a bad taste turned to ash in his mouth. 

There was another battle outside: the blizzard was still in full swing, but Foxfire had gotten a head start with his dignity in tow.

Pumafang squinted at the badger, tail whipping back and forth as he waited. He waited for a sign. He waited for some feeling to spark inside the emptiness he embodied, but nothing came. For many moments he felt split between light and dark. As if frozen in time, the creature of the dark lumbered slowly, staring into Pumafang's void.

It was mildly meditative, feeling his soul meet something almost his equal. He was frozen and calm.

Though as if fate was urging him out of the cave, a breeze tore in and showered the hollow with gelid debris, willing him out with a cold coo. The massive, panther-like tom growled and slowly backed away from the warm darkness.

"What is dead may never die," Pumafang rumbled, blinking emptily in thought.

With that, his shade vanished into the squall, consumed by the storm. The deputy's senses were muddled, but that didn't stop him from catching up to Foxfire's crimson form with massive leaps and bounds. He felt his limbs tire, but not enough to slow him down. The thought of sleeping in the snow was hardly appealing, but his flank burned. His head pounded. His neck stung. His whole body ached, and although the cold was something similar to a cooling sensation on his wounds, it also had a sickening peace.

Like he could curl up and fall asleep.

Pumafang pressed onward, matching Foxfire's pace step by step. That was, until his mind was numbed from the cold, or the loss of blood. He did not know which, but it brought a haze that made him fumble. That made his eyes droop, his normally dull gaze laced with pain. His stride was still ground-covering, but it faltered every time his hind legs hit the ground. He slowed slightly, letting Foxfire take the lead.

And what a foul taste it left in his mouth.

Pumafang stopped and looked off towards where he thought camp would be, past the mounds and mounds of snow that made TreeClan practically unidentifiable. His amber gaze squinted through the flurries, and a dejected sigh escaped his maw.

It was going to be a long night.

Word Count: 935
Tags:
Notes: xxx

[Abyss]

A thick and impenetrable blanket of white coated crimson fur, the harsh winds of the never ending blizzard whipping at each and every side of her body. With each push and pull of nature’s onslaught, the aches that shot through her shoulders and sides only grew in size and misery. Had the storm grown worse during their time within the cave? The ravaging hadn’t seemed so intense previously during the encounter with Pinewhisker, though that also could have been due to a lack of attention given to the storm’s unforgiving ways.

What was she doing? What had she done? Why did she do that? Things could have returned to the way they should have always been. Pumafang would be gone, Lionstar would be without a Deputy and successor, and she could take back those things that she felt she lost all those moons ago. Things could have been perfect. Her mind had been so set on its decision, her choice to abandon the lifeless being that was the puma that now appeared to be lumbering at her side. She had been so sure of herself, so sure of what was to come next.

And yet she had taken it away. Her chance for salvation: gone. All thanks to her own doing. Her own act of rushing forward and latching herself onto the badger. She had no explanation as to why she had done it. There had been no reason. She would never have been able to kill the badger, even with Pumafang’s help. He wouldn’t have survived fighting the beast alone. So why…

You wanted to save him. Narrowed orange eyes, nearly closed to shield themselves from the snow, grew wide and furious. No. That wasn’t true. The last thing she ever wanted to do was actually prevent that thing from being torn to shreds. She would be better off with him gone.

You need him. No. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need Lionstar. She didn’t need her father. She didn’t need anyone. She was perfectly capable of anything. She was a Warrior of Treeclan. She was a strong she-cat with a fiery temper and a lack of dependence on any other cat. She was fine on her own.

He is the key to your salvation. He is the one that will lift you above them all. He will be the one to give you pow-

“NO!” A violent and sudden growl erupted from the she-cat’s throat, the fire in her chest flaring as bright as the sun. A burst of something, a mixture of determination and fury, shot through her, the leaps and strides her legs enacted growing fiercer and harder with each movement. By now, she didn’t know if the injured tom was still in her presence or not. Nor did she care. Let him succumb to the storm. Let his desire to fight his demons by himself overtake him. Let the dear Lionstar and the darling Timberfrost lose their precious Deputy. Let Starclan, if they existed, yank whatever black and cold soul there was from his chest. Let him disappear into the blizzard for good, body never found until Newleaf melted the frozen water.

A stroke of dizziness swelled in those vibrant eyes, her paws faltering sideways with the pressure of the wind. She felt her breath pulled away from her throat, her already racing heart skipping a short beat. It seemed the storm and all of her lost energy were finally taking their toll on her body once more. She needed to find shelter. She needed to find camp. She needed to find something.

You need to find hi-

“Stop…” Her growl was lost to the wind even to her own hearing. What was this? What was happening to her? Why…?

Her paws came to a stop and her head turned, eyes peering into the white nothingness behind her. Just as she thought, there was no dark silhouette seen through the snow. There was no scent drifting across her tongue of her previous companion. There was no sign.

Her expression, or lack of one, was lost to the blizzard. She only remained in this position for a moment before she turned, looking around her for anything of use. A few small steps were taken before there was a somewhat dark shape that came into view. A tree. How she had not ran into one by now was an amazement, but she was thankful to find one now. And one with multiple dead bushes and somewhat hollowed out roots as well.

A couple steps brought her to the base of the tree, her form sliding through the pricky and thin branches of the deceased bushes. She hardly made it through when her legs gave in, her body collapsing, though in a controlled manner, into the tree’s roots. Her chest heaved and air was pushed hard through her nostrils, freeing them from the snow that had begun to pack into them.

She needed to rest. She needed to stay down. She needed to find camp, but when you couldn’t see anything but white and could only scent water, there was no real way to figure out where she was. She just needed to stay there. Stay where she was hopefully safe. Stay until the blizzard was over, or at least died down. She needed rest.

Just as her eyes began to close, she saw movement, though didn’t have the strength to jump to attention. The silhouette that she spotted started to slowly come closer, but she remained still. Slowly the figure began to take shape, Pumafang’s tiring features slowly appearing.

She wasn’t sure what she felt. She wasn’t relieved. She wasn’t disappointed. She wasn’t eager or happy to see him. She was just...tired. Tired of him. Tired of the storm. Tired of herself.

Pushing his presence aside, she laid her head against one of the roots, eyes slowly closing again. She felt herself slowly drifting into sleep, which she tried to prevent. But by the time her eyes fully closed, her mind was gone. All that was left was the slowing rise and fall of her sides, which grew more steady as she lost consciousness.

WORDS 1029 words @jet
OOC

[Deleted]

BELIEVE IN STRENGTH

Pumafang

TREECLAN - WARRIOR - 45 MOONS

As fine a spot as any. Pumafang thought, watching Foxfire's still form from the storm. He felt a thick crust of snow lining along his spine crumble as he turned to face the hollow.

The thorns and brambles of a dead bush guarded the entrance to a rather cozy room. A thick root arched above ground and smaller tendrils laced together a roof of dirt. Pumafang pushed through, his bulky stature paired with Foxfire's own body made it a rather tighter fit than he was used to, but he had barely the strength to carry himself any further, let alone Foxfire's weight as well. He stood over her placidly, watching the faint rise and fall of her chest. She looked far from intimidating, unconscious and susceptible to whatever misfortunes could befall her while she was in her oblivious state. She was lucky Pumafang was tired and, rather, unmotivated. His tail twitched.

Foxfire looked pathetic. It really was her temper that defined her, though belittlement was what made her fierce. Underestimation gave her an edge.

No one underestimated Pumafang. A tom who paralleled, and oftentimes surpassed, top class. With the mass of an undersized badger and the prowess to match, very rarely was he met with a pathetic opponent. Though he didn't disprove of the challenge. Pumafang traipsed on a precipitous edge, one between success and perfection. In his mind, he had no equal. Not yet. He thought, craving the possibility of raising someone else to his status. Glacierspring was adept, as was Timberfrost, though their morals limited their potential.

His amber gaze averted to the back of the tiny cavern of earth and roots. There was nothing but darkness and an overwhelming scent of soil. It had been abandoned for quite sometime, overgrown. Until now. He turned around, his massive form loosening some dirt from the side of the hollow. Pumafang let out a frustrated, pained snarl before settling to a crouch. He felt his fur brush against Foxfire's, the icy ticking of snow outside sending him into a slumber accented with sharp pains and memories of violence and desire.

In a hole in a ground they rested, fate bringing them touching furs. Two enemies back to back on what Pumafang had hoped in his last waking moments to be something similar to converging agendas. We will see. The weak thought was hardly a whisper in his mind. Foxfire had yet to discover his intent, though perhaps the badger attack was a prophecy from fate itself, from the valley: the she-cat who had only every fought him with hatred had offered him a temporary relief from hostility. That moment of weakness in her character had given him more time to put into play his future. The valley he wanted to see. Though that time was accompanied by concern. Was Foxfire the right cat to ascend?

Pumafang let out a thoughtful exhale. Surely the curiosity was devastating her dreams, tainting them to nightmares. Maybe now Foxfire would be more inclined to consider, regardless of her brief fault in character. Ultimately, the tom would not hesitate to put his plan into play with or without her. Pumafang smirked, eyes closed and strength fading. They had some similarities, himself and Foxfire. The curiosity ate at him. It was a picky eater, tearing at his desire: aggravating it red and hot.

Opportunity is riddled with inquiry and divide. Pumafang mused, darkness stilling both his mind and his form, besides the subtle expanding and contracting of his chest. In their last fatiguing efforts, Foxfire had led herself, and Pumafang, to a brief respite, though fate had claimed the wakefulness of the two warriors within heartbeats.

Thus they stayed out the storm, a panther and a fox sharing the same hollow darkness, steadily recovering their might.

Word Count: 643
Tags: Abyss
Notes: xxx