'the guillotine' WC VS RC FIGHT HERE

[Rainleaf]

Rainleaf emitted a short snarl of triumph when she felt her claws connect with the side of the WindClan leader’s skull, narrowing her eyes as she tried as hard as she could to dig them even deeper into his skin. The two warriors rolled heavily onto the ground, grass and dirt flying into the darkness as they hissed and spat with fury, fighting with the heated intensity of a storm. The RiverClan cat watched the tom stumble away from her in a daze and, feeling triumphant, she crouched in readiness to spring upon him once more, baring her fangs in anticipation of sinking them clean into his face. Then, suddenly, from her left came a wild cry of defiance and rage.

“NO!”

She recognized the voice, and because of that, the RiverClan warrior felt not fear, but fury.

She whipped in around just in time to see Greyfur barreling towards her, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. Rainleaf hissed in return, and already crouched low to the moist ground, the Bengal warrior propelled herself straight upwards, flying as if carried by the winds themselves. She felt claws rake at her haunches, but having avoided the worst of the attack, Rainleaf was relieved. When she landed again, Rainleaf took off and only stopped when she was several tail lengths away, turning quickly back around to face Greyfur. Stripestar had vanished from the battle, but a moment later she heard him yowl.

“WindClan! Establish a line of defense!” the leader’s voice called over the din of battle and the nearby gorge. “Let’s give these fish faces something to gossip about! Push them over the border, and by force!” A single thought then flashed through Rainleaf’s mind.

Who’s our fastest cat?

And a second after that.

Vixenpaw.

Keeping Greyfur safely in the corner of her eye, Rainleaf searched quickly for the ginger and white apprentice. A moment later she located her, battling with a WindClan she-cat. “Vixenpaw!” she yowled, making her voice sharp enough to carry across the small clearing and into the apprentice’s ears. “Vixenpaw, go back to camp and get help!” Immediately after that the Bengal warrior darted forward, fully prepared to intercept any cat that might attempt to make a grab for the young apprentice. Then she waved her tail, and cried, “RiverClan, keep them scattered!” The female warrior narrowed her eyes, claws unsheathed and back arched dangerously. “Stay on top of them!” With that she leaped back in front of Greyfur, snarling, one paw raised to aim a blow at his shoulder.

They couldn’t afford to let WindClan form a line.

She only hoped that Vixenpaw would be able to run fast enough.

---

Tags;
Vixenpaw
RiverClan patrol

[vixenn]

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[atrb=background,http://i31.tinypic.com/295suh0.jpg] Her eyes glimmered, as she battered blows at a she-cat whom she almost became bored with as she heard Stripestars' yowl above any and her heart stopped. She froze, and the Windclan warriors were regrouping like a group of fish in the stream. She panicked and yowled to Posionpaw, whom insulted her first, "You mouse brain, move! They will kill you if you don't!" With a grunt, she jumped over the she-cat and tried to help keep the line of cats back with every ounce of adrenaline she had left. But something caught her eyes, and it was Rainleaf, who looked like she was very out of energy. The golden she-cat obviously knew what she had to do as Vixenpaw looked at her. Rainleaf yowled, "Vixenpaw, go back to camp and get help!" It was all confusing to her as she felt the many eyes of Windclan shift to her, with the words spoken. She knew if she didn't run now, she would be a dead cat, and that was final. She had to keep her inner strength up. She yowled, "I got it!", as she broke out into a full sprint towards camp, leaving the mess of her clan behind, and trying to keep from being seen. She took every bush of reeds, and kept running for her dear life like it depended on her. She was now the cat that could save everyone, but she had to keep herself alive too. The Windclan cats quickly outnumbered them, and she knew that Posionpaw didn't stand a chance against them. Her mind was wandering, and she kept running, hoping she could make it back and tell Silvercreek in time. She knew if she didn't move as fast as she could that her clan was as good as dead right now. They would easily take Rainleaf out, and she would not stand for that. She pushed herself harder, leaping, and running as fast as she could. "Speech"'Thought' Word Count; 450 Notes; Ooooo. She ish exiting. Muse; Better.

[dovepaw]

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[atrb=background,http://i32.tinypic.com/2ir213s.jpg] Dovepaw hadn’t exactly gone into battle with a plan and the RiverClan apprentice had seemingly gotten the better of her. WindClan! Establish a line of defense! The only words she heard before the she-cat she was fighting moved off, a little bruised she got to her feet, Dovepaw quickly moved closer to the rest of her clan mates. Flicking her tail back and forth, she scanned the area around them, she gave a snarl as she noticed the RiverClan apprentice she had been fighting slip off over the border. “They are trying to get more warriors here. Do they really think all of this is worth it? Why are we even fighting in the first place?” Her words broke past her lips before she could even think; everything around her was going so fast… "Speech"'Thought' Word Count; 133 Notes; Rawr Marionettes; Dovepaw Muse; Rawr

[stripebird]

Now that the fight was beginning to boil down, Stripestar felt his eternal concern flaring up in his chest once again. His olive moonstones creased in dismay when the RiverClan warrior, the one he suddenly despised more than anything, called an apprentice forth to retrieve backup; if RiverClan and WindClan were equally matched, how would this feud ever end? Not only that, with RiverClan bringing fresh warriors to the field, it would be even more disastrous… Rainleaf’s cry overrode the sounds of nature around them; her piercing shriek drowned out the drumming of the gorge, and the trickling whispers of the stream; it made his heart plummet, like a heavy stone, but it surged his fury in spite of his smoldering trepidation. RiverClan, keep them scattered! Stay on top of them!

When she turned on Greyfur once more, the leaders attention was abruptly acute; now that one RiverClan cat had left the scene, that meant they were fairly outnumbered, but only for the moment. They would need to use the time they had before RiverClan backup briefly balanced the scales; and as a true WindClan cat, the pale tabby tom could only think of one perfect element that would forever burn a memory into every RiverClan cats mind; he would have his patrol inch towards the hillside. That way, RiverClans beefy weight would exhaust their movements, and dull their speed. Against already agile cats; WindClan would be even faster, and would have the chance to blind their foes with the burning light of the sun! He needed to give his unoccupied warriors the signal, and it was one that WindClan knew solely.

Catching Elmfrosts gaze as he battled a furious Ravenwing, the tall oriental brandished his tail up and down with prompt flicks, silently, it said: Move upwards. Every cat here should have been trained enough to know what that meant, because WindClan used the wind, the sky, the barren moorland all to their benefit, despite the lack of vegetation. As true warriors, the most noble way to fight really was facing one another in two lines of cats, rather than skulking and wallowing in the shadows of the reeds, pines or oaks. Cautiously, Stripestar let out a blaring snarl, hoping to catch the attention of one of the four enemies: he drew a couple paces forward, threateningly; shrouded orbs concealing his true intent. He masked them with a forged blanket of rage, in the absence of his plotting. “Ravenwing!” He yowled, smirking, “Is he too much for you!? You weakling!”

In the next concise seconds, he shot a glance at Cinderwing, and Copperpaw. Hopefully they would pass on the tacit message to their nearby Clanmates; if the RiverClan backup advanced before they would lure their rivals into defeat, then they would need to summon the third and last backup patrol. But Stripestar had faith in his Clan, and he prayed to StarClan that they could fend off RiverClan, and keep their borders save without the need to bring more cats into the fray... The prophecy spoke of uniting the Clans against some common adversary, and he knew very well that it left no room for old quarrels between one another in the mix. It was just as he had thought before, unite or die. StarClan please be in WindClans favor!

He had to keep everyone safe. That was his one promise he made to them. His ancestors chose him for some reason, and if he found none, he had to make a reason, because there was no going back. Stripestar had known that from the moment he stepped foot into the Moonstone, from there on it was his life on the line for them, his Clan, his kin. Perhaps peace was unobtainable because the Clans fought for their own survival, if their home of choice could not supply them with adequate food sources, then they took it upon themselves to invade neighboring territories to find a solution to ease their hunger. As long as the Clans breathed, war was inevitable. That didn’t mean he would give up, and if he had to, then foxdung! He’d gouge their eyes out so they could not hunt at all! It was do or die, in a dog eat dog world! “RiverClan scum! I will not be satisfied until I have seen your blood lapping the shores of your rushing brooks, WindClan will fight back until your rivers run crimson!” He cried, and the only thing that terrified him beyond the death of his Clanmates, was how serious he spoke those words. Would he really?

If he had to in order to protect WindClan, then yes. Yes, he would. Swishstar allowed her warriors to invade his turf, and he would not have it.

861

[elmfrost]

How in StarClan's name had he missed that stupid furball? Just landing short of the tabby she-cat, Elmfrost's shoulder bristled slightly, but he quickly flattened it. Anger didn't help anything. Stay focused on the task. Watching the she-cat land a square attack on Silentbreeze, his ears flattened against his skull. Ducking down into a crouch again, he paused for a moment before giving a lash of his tail, indicating for the gray warrior to get out of the way. He seemed to get the message, as the mute warrior flicked his tail and pulled back, making quick for the hills back into the territory. Wait, the hills? Not hesitating, the tom didn't keep silent this time. Giving a deep, rumbling snarl, he launched himself at the RiverClan she-cat's back, claws out in another aim for her sides. However, mid-leap, his vivid blue gaze met the leader's and his mind quickly processed the leader's flick of his tail. Of course, the hills would be the perfect place! If they had the upper land, and we going down, it would be quicker for them and they could make quick work of this fight. Giving a single blink at the ginger tom to indicate he got the message, the tom focused on his target as his claws reached the she-cat. “Ravenwing! Is he too much for you!? You weakling!” A smirk crossed the tom's jaws at the leader's call. Taking a quick chance to glance around the clearing, he spotted Copperpaw fighting Poisonpaw. Knowing the leader had thrown them a glance too, he knew he had to act quick. ”Come on fishface, is that all you've got?” he spat, trying to keep everything but his voice from showing his fuelled anger at the invaders. His plan? As soon as she retaliated, move away, enough to throw another insult. The only problem was, he didn't know how many insults he'd actually have, after all, teasing wasn't his thing. [bg=1c1c31][atrb=width,400][atrb=border,0,true]

[moosecreek]

M O O S E C R E E K.

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An iridescent beetle stood on the red abyssinian's flank, shining a yellowish copper in the sun, still managing to hang on whilst he followed the rest of the clan onwards into battle. The silent trumpets trumpeting. The beetle positioned itself like an early medal - won just purely for striking up the courage to pursue to the border. Moosecreek had been assigned to the third and last back-up patrol.

'Cinderwing take Moosecreek and Copperpaw, go that way' - that was what Stripedstar's instructions were. His gooseberry eyes flickered to the two, warrior and apprentice, figures. His head burning hot with his confusion, the fur raising on his weathered and wind-battered frame in anguish.

But he turned in particular attention to Elmfrost. Hearing the multiple insults she kept throwing out. Hills - that's were everyone was going. He smiled, an inward smile, a small glimmer in his finch-green eyes, going for a nice Windclanner tactic was the easiest way and everyone knew how to perform it. But for how much longer could this warrior keep going on a tangent of mockery.

Feeling like a rope had been tied to him, the abyssinian winced knowing that there needed to be a quicker way to drive cats up to the hills. Moosecreek ran, every impact on the ground shook his frame, he narrowed his eyes into two compact emerald slits, forgetting about the two cats he was appointed with. He yowled, the sound dripping with a furious tone. The beetle had fallen off long ago, deflated on the battleground.

The wall-brown cat kept moving, timing his steps, one and two, three and four. Ravenwing and Elmfrost at front paws reach. He launched himself behind the Riverclanner, flicking his tail fast in an impatient upwards motion. 'Come on fishface, is that all you got' - he heard Elmfrost lash out.

'"Because it's pretty awful!"' - Moosecreek shouted, his speech impediment holding back for a vital second. Hoping his 'surprise' method had taken toll. Ravenwing now had another warrior behind him.

three | eight | two

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[smokey]

The Russian Blue left the WindClan deputy alone. He backed off from him, his body laid there. He knew no would have known that he had killed him. They were too preoccupied with their surroundings. He knew it was wrong to do, it would have never happened if the fight would have not have even started in the first place. An apprentice is injured, a deputy was killed. The killer would remain unknown to everyone, everyone except StarClan and his killer. The RiverClan tom raced back towards his other clan-mates to fight and defend off the WindClan cats until back-up arrives. Once everyone found out the WindClan deputy was dead, would it be the reason to stop fighting one another? No one could tell if it would.

Smokeheart heard Rainleaf call to Vixenpaw to go back to camp and more RiverClan cats. He hoped she would hurry before it was too late. He stood there in the open watching as everyone fought each other and how WindClan cats were lining up in a line. What exactly was their plan that they had in mind for the RiverClan cats fighting against them? Smokeheart glanced at Stripestar as he cried, “RiverClan scum! I will not be satisfied until I have seen your blood lapping the shores of your rushing brooks, WindClan will fight back until your rivers run crimson!” The gray warrior ran towards him. Smokeheart would kill himself if he was capable of what he has already done before in this battle. "And RiverClan will fight until your moors will run red with your rabbits and prey covered in blood!" Smokeheart snarled. He knew would have made Stripestar attack him, but so be it. He was his father's son, and his father's blood runs through him. He knew his father would be proud of him, but he wasn't proud of himself. He father was evil just like his brother and there was no way Smokeheart was going to be like them both. His mother would be heartbroken if she had ever found out what he had done or had become. Smokeheart faced Stripestar without a scratch on him. His thick blue gray fur covered up the little scratches that he held on his back. But those barely effected him right now. He was ready to fight and was ready to go lay down in his moss nest.

Smokeheart ran to face Stripestar. He wanted to distract the WindClan leader as much as possible, if that would work, maybe then RiverClan could have the advantage when the back-up came to help out the tired cats. "Stripestar, you afraid you will lose? You know you're a coward. Afraid for yourself and others than taking the chance to stop something more." Smokeheart egged him on. He wanted the leader to have his full attention on himself and no one else. He wanted WindClan cats to not have commiuntcation from their leader. When they did then things would become worse when there were only four RiverClan cats fighting ten or so WindClan cats.


edit; no one is suppose to know that smokeheart killed greencloud. smallie knows this.

[stripebird]

The leader watched, contented, when both Moosecreek and Elmfrost were upon the RiverClan warrior. This was his home, his territory. Did RiverClan think that he was just going to stand by and let them overrun WindClan? That he was going to take their garbage? His anger was a pit in his gut; it seared his insides, sending hot steam to shoot through his veins. Bluestar didn't want this either, she fought endlessly to keep their kits and the moors safe... it still made him quiver when he thought about it, about her death. Now he was their leader. He didn't want to have to go through what she did, he wanted to make a difference.

But he was too proud to surrender.

Elmfrost would pass on the message, as would Dovepaw and Copperpaw; he didn't have to worry about them anymore. As long as they pushed the RiverClan cats to the hillside, they would be safe. It was their only hope. Their last chance to show RiverClan that they were no kittypets! And that they would fight back with tooth and claw! I wish StarClan would send a sign. There has to be four Clans in the forest. However, just as his eyes wandered about his patrol, counting their numbers, he noticed the staggering black and white lump closest to the reeds. Paws itching, he drew a pace backwards, further up the slope. There was absolutely no way he could risk leaving the ravine when RiverClan backup would arrive shortly, he could only pray that his deputy hung in there. Smokeheart faced him abruptly, the battle-light in his rays equivalent to Stripestars own spring jade. Was he challenging him? He noted the gray toms posture, intentions were glittering in his muddy depths.

So be it. He'll learn soon enough how vain his intentions are. Shifting into a comfortable position, the pale tabbys ears perked forwards. He waved the signal once more, rays flickering to his Clanmates. Stripestar, you afraid you will lose? You know you're a coward. Afraid for yourself and others than taking the chance to stop something more. If Smokeheart wasn't going to come after him, then he was a waste of time. No true threat lied there. "I could ask you the same," nodding his head to the few RiverClan cats present, "Since your Clan is... ah, lacking." Grinning, he beckoned the enemy closer.

For what they started, they deserved only what they offered.

"You challenge me on my own turf?" His honey voice was deep with mock courtesy, "Who is the real coward here? I think it's you." he chuckled, "Five against three was not a very noble way to start a fight, two apprentices vs one, what? Is your Clan afraid of my warriors? Do you need to double your numbers in fear that an equal fight will mean... your loss? If not, you portray yourselves poorly. Come fight me, yellowheart."

Claws unsheathed, he took another step backwards, underhandedly luring Smokeheart after him.

After all, yellow is the color of cowardice.

Two lines of cats, facing one another equally is the noblest way to fight. Bluestar once said that to him, but they were words every loyal Warrior knew. RiverClan was fighting dirty, so WindClan would do the same. Elmfrost, to the hills! Lets blind them!

645

[cinderwing]

Cinderwing blinked as the tom resting against her stirred, his limbs beginning to move as he once again regained consciousness. He winced as if he had a headache before his eyes rolled back to the battlefield. She felt his body stiffen before the tom got to his feet, staggering, but standing none the less. Cinderwing only flicked her ears with displeasure, sensing the senior warrior was going to bolt right back into the battle despite his condition. Her eyes narrowed when Greyfur then looked at her, fire in his gaze. “No,” he mewed simply. “I have a duty to the Clan. I will not give in.”

Cinderwing hissed in frustration, grating her claws across the grass under her paws as she watched the gray warrior spring away. “Greyfur!” she yowled after him. “Greyfur!” But it was too late, the tom had vanished back into the fray. Lashing her tail, Cinderwing took a step forward to survey the battlefield. The two parties seemed evenly matched, writhing about on the ground like maggots in a carcass. Disgusting, she thought to herself with a quiet hiss. All this fighting.

“WindClan!”

The sudden yowl snapped her attention to her left, miraculously able to hear the cry above the roar of the gorge at her back. It was Stripestar.

“Establish a line of defense!”

Cinderwing didn’t need to hear the rest, she’d been through this drill a thousand times before. Turning tail, Cinderwing raced through the thick of the fighting, dodging over wrestling bodies and flashing claws. She heard another yowl from one of the RiverClan warriors, Rainleaf, and nearly snarled and turned when she saw one of their apprentices racing into the reeds. More warriors? she thought, feeling exhausted despite the fact that she hadn’t fought anyone just yet. Will this ever end?

Cinderwing watched as Dovepaw and Elmfrost dislodged themselves from their adversaries and leaped up beside Stripestar on the hill, hissing and snarling at their enemies below. Seize the high ground. Use the sun. Yes, Cinderwing knew this maneuver well. Pushing her way through the thick of the fight, Cinderwing let out a small mew of surprise when she tripped over something unmoving on the ground. Stumbling, the senior warrior quickly caught herself, turning back around with wide eyes. A large black and white body, bloodied from the fight, lay still in the slick grass, barely visible in the darkness. A single thought, terrible in its magnitude, raced through her heart.

Greencloud is dead. Our deputy is dead.

Cinderwing did not know who had killed him, nor did she care. All that mattered now was chasing off these idiots before they could claim another WindClan cat. But Greencloud? Is the death of a deputy so necessary? Anguished over the noble tom’s death, Cinderwing forced herself away from his side and raced up the slope, aiming a vicious blow at Smokeheart’s head along the way.

Not caring about whether or not her blow had landed, Cinderwing darted up to join her Clanmates, tail fluffed up in preparation for a fight. Quickly and quietly, she snaked her way towards Stripestar, and keeping her voice out of earshot of others mewed, “Greencloud is dead.” She knew that the news might jar him, but the WindClan had to know that his second in command had fallen.

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[! C O P P E R P A W]

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[atrb=background,http://i523.photobucket.com/albums/w351/glenfeather/bgback.png] It all happened so fast. Copperpaw blinked as the cats fell around her, her amber eyes wide with the shock of new bloodshed. It was bright on her shoulder, from several deep scratches, dripping and making her wince. A sudden cry from Stripestar drew her gaze to the faded leader, his eyes flashing dangerously. "windclan! establish a line of defense!" Without a second thought, the tabby apprentice sprang back, copper pelt flaming in the setting sunlight. It had been going on for too long. She made her way carefully up towards Stripestar, who had been joined by Cinderwing. As Copperpaw struggled, aiming a halfhearted blow here and there, not really caring if any of them made contact, her brilliant gaze fell upon an unmoving form, lying pitifully in the grass. She choked then, her heart stopping, as she recognized the cat who had fallen in this insignificant battle. It was a leader, a brave warrior, and a true WindClan cat. The deputy had fallen. Backing away from the fray, Copperpaw barely felt her paws slamming against the ground as she stumbled up the hill, eyes dull with sadness, yet lit from within, a sort of flaming stubbornness that she was known for. They had to beat RiverClan now. They had to, for Greencloud. She stood patiently beside her leader, waiting for instruction. [no muse for mah baby.]

[smokey]

"I could ask you the same," "Since your Clan is... ah, lacking." Smokeheart knew better than to taunt the leader of WindClan, but right now. It would have worked if the cat wasn't so birdbrained. "You challenge me on my own turf?" He held his ground until the honey colored leader shut his trap. "Who is the real coward here? I think it's you." That word. Coward. The only word that drove him mad, his father called him one all the time. He brother, Stormcloud enforced it. Smokeheart proved them wrong everytime that he wasn't a coward. Except their defintion of coward was totally different that his. There meaning was that he wasn't a cruel enough to kill and badly injure a cat for pleasure and to feel the blood of the victim running down their throat. "Five against three was not a very noble way to start a fight, two apprentices vs one, what? Is your Clan afraid of my warriors? Do you need to double your numbers in fear that an equal fight will mean... your loss? If not, you portray yourselves poorly. Come fight me, yellowheart." Smokeheart didn't care if Stripestar was a leader or not, he saw him only as a cat asking for trouble. He would love to prove him wrong to see who the real coward truly was. Because the Russian Blue was no coward. He would be better than a coward who ran away from fights. Smokeheart lunged at Stripestar pinning him down or at least in effort to. "I'm no coward, you rabbitbrain foxdung!"

Smokeheart glanced up when Cinderwing came by him and was aiming for his head. He was knocked off balance and let go of Stripestar. Cinderwing, had got him just above the eye. Blood was starting trickle down his face. He wasn't going to let that stop him from fighting these rabbit eating foxdungs. He heard, "Greencloud is dead." from Cinderwing as she raced off to her clan-mates. The gray tom wondered how long it would before they figured out that it was him that killed the deputy. Would they all try to attack him and take him down when they figured it out? Or would they just take it out on the entire patrol of RiverClan cats? Speaking of RiverClan cats, Smokeheart what was taking Vixenpaw so long to come back with the back-up patrol. They needed more cats now if they were going to defeat WindClan.

[stripebird]

Waiting for the trap to spring into place was both agonizing and tormenting. What if Smokeheart didn't take the bait? What if RiverClan's apprentice returned a second later with a whole battle-fit patrol? Would WindClan lose this fight? Would he have led his Clan to unnecessary wounds? A more frightening fear gnawed at his bones, chilling their very mallows. He wanted to be a leader who fought war, and cherished peace; not a cat who was only satisfied until death lay at his paws. Was that what he looked like right now?

Surprise enveloped him as Smokeheart slammed him to the ground, claws gripping his shoulders. Flailing, the WindClan leader managed to keep the enemy at bay, so he didn't suffer worse injuries than he had to. He had to be strong. I'm no coward, you rabbit-brain foxdung! The warrior shrieked, obviously enraged. Stripestar didn't know what to expect, but he was, in truth, pleased that his old fashioned goad had worked on the inexperienced tom. That alone gave him raw courage; he was confident, after the first success, that the rest of WindClan could lure RiverClan to the hills. They wouldn't see it coming. Like a bullet, Cinderwing launched a blow to Smokehearts head, and he jerked away awkwardly. A moment later, blood trickled out of a fresh cut, dripping down his already crimson-streaked face.

Without a word, the beige tabby let loose an array of lunges for Smokehearts forehead. He made certain to aim straight across, so if his aim had been true... more blood would drip down into his eyes, blinding him! It would be easier to get him off the field that way.

The less RiverClan cats, the better. Greencloud is dead.

The voice was smeared with grief; his brilliant spring gaze twisted towards the black and white she-cat, heart hammering with impulses to mourn. He'd led Greencloud to his death. A shiver passed through his body, and the tips of his fur stood on end. Why? Why WindClan? Leaping for Smokeheart, his paws were the weight of a feather, and he planned to dig his hind claws into the enemies underbelly, perchance he caught him, perchance he caught him upside down. On the hill, he was faster than before. Using the advantage of higher ground to RiverClans downfall.

They had to beat RiverClan now. They had to, for Greencloud.

His honey voice was a quiver through the screeches and the whirling wind, breathlessly, and out of grief and rage, he flattened his ears and let out a howl. A battle cry. For Greencloud. For the lost deputy.

476 Okay, so lets keep them coming.

[smokey]

As the crimson colored liquid traveled down his face, the smokey gray warrior went to catch his balance before the cream colored WindClan leader lunged for his already cut open forehead. His father would think of him as a useless piece of foxdung at this point because he was injured. His father had expected more from his two sons, to fight to the death and try not to get so many injures, most of all above the eyes where they could be blinded by blood. At this point, Smokeheart didn't care to hear the voice of his father roaming through his head from his lessons when trying to show them the ropes of being the best warrior possible, but it was more like the best killer possible. Stripestar's attacks work for what the leader had intended for. More blood spilled out following the previous flow of blood down towards his eyes. It was that he wasn't weak from fighting, he was still capable of fighting, but the blood caused him to lose focus of what was going on around him. He didn't know want was really happening, he couldn't see the WindClan leader anymore. He had to pay attention to the noises around him at this point, but he didn't know if he could since he could hear yowls from cats across the battlefield fighting one another. A battle that Rainleaf had started for what reason was unknown at this point. A battle that could have surpassed it's outcome by not even occurring in the first place.

Smokeheart didn't want to appear defenseless, but it was no use, he was. He could no longer see without washing his eyes out, except the only problem was there was no water near the gorge close enough to his location. The warrior would have to wait until it was time for them to leave. When would they be able to leave? Would it be back to camp or would this be their last time in the forest like it was for Greencloud? Smokeheart didn't want to think like that, but it just popped into his head. Just like the voices of his brother and father telling him to not stop and to keep going. He couldn't stand their voices, it was the one of the few memories he had of them. There taunting voices always lingered in his head and he was always forced to ignore them and be the better cat his mother had taught him to be. They were somewhere out in the forest, living their own life to the degree they want it to be. They were out there causing trouble on their own and probably killing cats or recruiting them for their own needs to destroy the forest and clans so there would be no peace, but chaos and constant fighting and dying of cats everywhere.

Smokeheart thought too much, he lost his focus even more. Standing there not knowing if a cat was near him or far away. He tried to focus more on the sounds around him instead of else where on the battlefield. His area seemed to be quiet, no movement what's so ever, but he could have been wrong. Stripestar would probably take the advantage and attack him now and injure him even more. When was back up going to to arrive? Would it be soon or never? Hopefully Vixenpaw made it back in camp in time because Smokeheart didn't know if RiverClan could last any longer out there on their own.

[stripebird]

It wouldn't take long for that RiverClan apprentice to reach their camp, more importantly, it wouldn't take long for backup to arrive, for their sleek, muscular bodies to weave through the river with incredible ease. WindClans only advantage was their tactic, which, at this point was both known and unknown, considering the only battle-fit enemies on the field were now Rainleaf and the black tom whose name escaped the pale, tabby leader.

He turned his attention back on Smokeheart, the sight of blood dripping down his face forcing satisfaction rather than guilt into Stripestars heart. RiverClan had attacked first, every wound they acquired was due to their own bad judgment - the Warrior Code states that a Clan must protect its borders, and WindClan, honoring this code, would do just that. Forget despising war and death, there had to be four Clans in the forest. Always. If WindClan surrendered to RiverClan, there was no telling how far the rabbit hole would go, how far RiverClan would go before they would realize they had destroyed WindClan.

Because of simple reasoning, Stripestar would not surrender to RiverClan, and would absolutely do everything in his power to keep his Clan safe. New leader or not, he had a duty, and that duty did not include assembling and cradling old morals, some of which founded due to irresponsibility, and lack of constancy in the first place.

Smokeheart stay dumbfounded and blind in one place, perhaps trying to pinpoint Stripestars location? It was inevitable. He would not be able to defeat an enemy without display of his surroundings... but a question burrowed its way into the leaders mind, prowling there in deliberation. Should I let him go? Well, he wouldn't be killed, but to be let off so lightly after so wrongly attacking the innocent? Harming a new apprentice who had no fighting skill whatsoever, and murdering a Deputy, matter of fact.

He spun it, twisted it, picked it apart like a vulture in his conscience, but to be realistic, at this point he had about as much compassion as a rat. The answer was trouble-free, and it rolled off his intellect as though he had already decided before the question had sounded.

No. An eye for an eye. Claws unsheathed, he lunged out for Smokehearts shoulder; hoping to hook him good with a curved set of dangerous razors. Another yowl split the air, not quite so honey-like anymore. Enough was enough! With RiverClans backup on the way, time was not of the essence.

"Now!" A shrieking snarl, he beckoned them all urgently with his tail. If they could form a line... they might be able to win this, using strategy, rather than force. As if his lash had not been enough, Stripestar further desired to harm Smokeheart, thrusting his head angrily towards the gray Warriors throat, in an attempt to push him over the hillside, and back down towards the reeds.

488 Words

[graywind]

Battle.

He was going off into battle - one thing he absolutely did not favor. To be honest, he would choose anything over conflict; it just never ended well, one way or another, and it stung. His age was rather mature - but his mind was still like that of a kit's. He had the skills of a true warrior, but his mind was set more on peace rather than war. Alas, that was usually too much to hope for.

He had a duty, and he was loyal; he would carry that duty out in his best potential, even if it meant sacrificing his hopes of pure peace. This was his Clan, and from the sounds of it, they were being torn apart. That sent a chill through his spine and to his throat.

RiverClan had done plenty of damage in the past; they needed to remain away!

Swallowing hard, he lowly growled within. He wasn't quite prepared for battle yet; skills and talents, those were taken care of - but his urge to battle - that was not quite sharpened yet. And he needed to induce it, fast. Now.

The stench of blood and death eventually wafted up his nostrils, his footfalls instinctively quickening. I have to hurry! His Clan was in danger!

Lowering his apex, he propelled himself forward, almost bounding now. His full speed and agility would be used for battle - but he had to get there first. Clenching his jowls, he quickly reached the scene - and it all hit him like a train. The impact basically caused him to skid for a moment, hesitating - before he released a war cry. Now he was pumped - now he was ready.

And with a grudging hiss, his senses swiveled and scanned within his radar, quick as lightning. Enemies located, allies determined - losses accounted. Lashing his tail, he yowled again, basically creating a target out of himself, or basically a distraction.

Threaten his Clan further, and he would make them regret it.