A striped gray cat with shining blue eyes walked along a barren, rocky path. Rocks and shrubs jutted up everywhere, casting shadows on the ground below. His face gave away a slight confusion, mixed with curiosity, like an apprentice whose mentor had decided to take a different approach to the daily lesson. He was clearly out of place here, for one thing, more a ray of sunlight than a solid object. He stopped as he came across a large clearing, filled with cats. Jayfeather strode out into it, knowing that he was invisible to the cats surrounding him.
A large brown cat was staring down from a large rock jutting out from the ground. In his sight, a small, scared-looking tortoiseshell. "Squeal, are ready to present yourself to the Cult of No Fighting, and let them decide your fate, to be a Fighter, and fight for the Cult of Night?"
"I am"
The brown cat continued. "Gust of Wind, you have been the Master of Squeal. Are you willing to complete the ceremony?"
A grey, thin-haired tom stepped up. "I am"
"Then let the ceremony begin!" But that was the ceremony. Jayfeather pondered. He watched to see what happened. Gust of wind circled Squeal, whose eyes got wider and wider. Suddenly, Gust of Wind snarled, and leapt onto Squeal. He slashed at her throat, and the she-cat fell limp. She was dead.
This is a new story I've been thinking about for a while. Tell me if I should continue this, work on Tigerheart, or do both.