I'm trying to start writing again so I thought I'd try a one-shot. Enjoy!
A dark, moonless night. Wind whistling past his ears, playing cold, haunting melodies. Stout tree limbs being flung around like they were nothing more than twigs. No more thoughts of fair, gentle breezes. This wind was a tyrant, howling with pleasure that none could stand against him. The cat struggled lest he fall and be blown away. Foreboding clouds loomed overhead, promising that yes, it could get much worse.
The feel of grass under his paws. Grass, such a small thing, yet so constant. He had never been to a place that didn't have at least a little grass. Grass was a normal part of life. The thought comforted him.
But what chance does grass have against the mighty forces of the storm?
He ran. Disregarding wind, clouds, and grass. Shelter was what he needed now, but he was too far from camp...
The hollow protected by the roots of the Great Tree.
Ah, yes. That will do.
Are you sure we shouldn't stay out here? It makes me feel powerful.
A drop of water landed on his head. Just one little drop, usually no reason to worry, but worry he did. For drops of water from the sky did not stop falling after just one. The cat would be safe in the hollow.
Safe in the hollow, only a little wet, he licked his midnight fur to help it dry. He was safe, safe from the storm, but alone with the shadows. The shadows that were the reason he had so foolishly run out into the howling gale in the first place. The shadows in his mind.
It seems that was a bit pointless.
Silly Sootblaze, willing to get himself killed to escape us.
Ripplebreeze is dead.
That single statement echoed in his mind. Ripplebreeze is dead. Ripplebreeze is dead. Ripplebreeze is dead. Ripplebreeze is dead.
Friend, mentor, role-model, deputy, she had been them all. The only one who could keep the shadows at bay, and now she was gone, just like that. Soaking wet, eyes glazed over, cold as winter, how could that be Ripplebreeze?
Such were the ways of life and death. No one every said life was kind, in fact, they often said the opposite.
Rain poured down, lightning flashed, thunder roared. Such a scary thing, thunder. It sent kits running to the mothers and made many an experienced warrior flinch. But it was the lightning that would kill you.
You're getting off topic. Ripplebreeze is dead and guess who gets to be the new deputy.
He could quit, he should quit, no one was making him be the deputy. He was standing there again, frozen with shock, his Clanmates looking at him expectantly, shadows whispering delusions of grandeur. He bolted from the camp and into the wind.
Rain drops were falling less and less often. The wind's haunting melodies had ceased playing. The grass stood straight and tall. Thunder no longer boomed. A voice called his name.
"Sootblaze! Are you there?"
Why stop at deputy?
That shadow again. That traitorous shadow. He was a loyal member of his Clan. He had reached this place through brains and hard work.
Sootstar, it does have a nice ring to it.
That it did. He could imagine himself standing up there on High Ledge, apprenticing kits and making warriors. He would lead his great Clan into battle and vanquish all his enemies. All cats would whisper his name in awe, Sootstar, Leader of ThunderClan, Conquerer of the Forest and the World.
"Sootblaze! Can you hear me?"
Your leader is searching for you, how cute. I bet he's awful worried you were killed in the storm.
He scrambled out of the hollow, feeling dirt turn to wet grass. He scented the air and hid downwind of his prey. Claws unsheathed, he leapt. One well-placed cut.
Rivers of blood seemed to glow in the amber light of the rising sun. Bloodstained claws sheathed for now. He laughed.
That wasn't too hard. As easy as a little pushing a little she-cat.
Thank you for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated.