The Alliance
~~~ Night, Twolegplace
Short, ragged breaths.
Pitter patter of paws on wet stone.
Fear.
A large white shape stumbled through the slick pavement, slipping, but regaining balance in desperation to escape. His eyes dart around wildly, looking for anything—a nook, a cranny, a small, unnoticed corner—to hide, to run. The possibilities were endless, but were regarded with danger. Enemies were everywhere. They know where he was. There was no safe haven for him, not anymore.
The moon shone coldly above him, reflecting off of the water lined gutters, and the night sky was dotted with tiny flecks of white stars. Morning was already lingering upon the horizon, about to rise, and perhaps shatter the nightmare behind him. It dangled behind him just out of reach. But the more he ran, the slower time seemed to follow in his pawsteps.
The white tom leapt behind a building, claws scraping the stone, only to find another figure lurking there, waiting. Knowing.
Silver claws unsheathed, white against the dark floor.
The victim let out a shriek as cold, razor sharp claws cut into his throat. He fell back onto the ground, writhing, screaming in pain as blood, thick and dark red bubbled out of the gash on his throat, dripping onto the floor, spreading like a stain. Soon, the white cat stilled and his breathing grew shallower, and shallower, until it died off like a pass of wind.
Crimson was the bed he slept on, still leaking out in a torrent, lapping at the killer's paws. She sheathed her claws and bent down, and tore a claw from the corpse's front black paw, a souvenir of her kill. She admired it for a minute, and then disappeared.
~~~ Next morning Shadowclan Camp
"Where's Blackstar?"
"Not a clue. The scent in his den is stale. He left last night."
"Really?"
Littlecloud sniffed skeptically and turned back into his den. A sick leader shouldn't be running around without herbs. Then again, Blackstar really hadn't been one to take advice of another cat. He sighed and went back to sorting herbs, which had been ransacked by anonymous kittens that morning.
Flamepaw reentered the den, mouths full of juniper berries. He meowed, "Are these enough to replace the ruined berries?"
"Yes, yes, thank you."
Littlecloud took the berries from Flamepaw's mouth and asked, "What are juniper berries used for?"
"Uh, to regain strength?"
"Yes, and…?"
Flamepaw squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember, "Bellyaches and to help soothe cats who have trouble breathing!"
"Correct."
Littlecloud put the juniper berries into the appropriate pile and rolled the squashed ones out of the den. Their herbs were well stocked. Two new kits had been born the other day. Prey was plentiful. What could go wrong?
The medicine cat finished sorting the stocks of herbs and padded outside. He breathed in the fresh, morning air, and soaked in the warmth from the nascent sun. He felt content just to lie there, and enjoy the period of time where no wars brewed, and no sick cats came to him with green cough.
But, his contentment was short-lived.
"Blackstar is dead! Blackstar is dead!"
Blackstar? Littlecloud jumped out of his fur. Blackstar was dead? Had he not had three lives? His head shot up to see Whitewater and Tawnypelt dashing in. Snaketail dragged a limp, battered body after him. Warriors that lay basking in the sun leapt up, and crowded over with wails of disbelief.
He and Flamepaw rushed over to find the bloody, lifeless body of their leader. He ran over and sniffed at the dead leader's fur. Stale. Dead for at least a few hours.
"Where did you find him?" Littlecloud demanded. Please don't say…
"The twolegplace," Whitewater said unsurely, "Why?"
Littlecloud shook his head distractedly, worry clenching him. Last time he had met with the other medicine cats, Leafpool's clan had lost their leader as well. She had almost forgotten to attend the meeting, so wrought with grief. Firestar's body had been found in the twolegplace, and he was dead before sunrise. There was only one wound on the body, the throat. And, for some strange reason, his front claw had been torn off.
Blackstar's eyes were wide and glassy. Littlecloud's gaze travelled down his leader's body, and stopped at his front paws. They were unsheathed, but with no fur stuck in between them. He had been in a fight, or was about to, but did not land a blow.
He was missing one claw.
"Oh, Starclan, no…"
There was a killer on the loose.
~~~ Afternoon, Twolegplace
"How many more?"
A cold, high voice. Female.
"Two."
A low, raspy voice. Tom.
The silver she-cat sat in her corner and groomed the blood off her paws.
"Mm… that means I have done half, correct?"
"…yes. Why?"
"That means," she purred, "that I get my reward now."
"No," the tom replied immediately, "Then you won't continue your work."
Her eye's glinted and she meowed, a hiss barely audible in her voice, "If I finish my work, then you won't give me my slave."
The tom narrowed his amber eyes, and noticed a group of cats inching towards him from behind. He licked his dark tabby fur and spat, "Fine."
Winter's eyes glinted triumphantly and she nodded her head. The group of cats behind the tabby dissipated, as if they were never there in the first place.
"What is she like?"
Most slaves were she-cats.
"He," the tom corrected gently, as to not anger the leader, "is approximately your size, tabby and is a pleasure to hear scream."
"Indeed?"
"Let me fetch him now."
He was a gray tabby tom, and dark red, clotted blood ran down his shoulder. The tom's words were true; he was about the size of Winter, a small she-cat. He had startling clear blue eyes, and a small, wedged face. His whiskers were quivering from fear.
"Who are you?" His voice was shivering, as if he could see what Winter was planning for him.
"I am Winter, of The Alliance," she purred silkily, snaking up to the tom, "What about you?"
She was polite enough.
"I'm, uh, Cloudypaw," he stuttered shakily, as if awed at her close presence. He drew himself up, "I'm going to be a warrior soon."
A sheathed paw slammed into his cheek. He fell against the wall, dazed.
"You will not mention that term as long as you are my slave," she hissed menacingly. Her veneer of kindness had melted into a puddle behind her.
When Cloudypaw said nothing, rubbing the forming bruise on his cheek, she drew her paw up again and struck him on the other side of his head, this time leaving three red lines, "Got it?"
"Y-yes."
Winter stepped back so Cloudypaw could get up.
The silver she-cat mused over him and meowed, "You will be known as Cloudy."
"But-"
Another paw slammed into his ears, leaving his ears ringing.
"No buts."
He nodded mutely.
Winter looked him over again and pinned him down easily, purring into his ear, "You will do nicely."
She looked over at the other dark tabby tom and said, "I will finish my job. Your payment has pleased me."
"Very well. I thank you."
Winter smiled coyly, one paw on Cloudy's chest. The tom dipped his head to her and left. Then, as his fur met the sunlight, he vanished.
Just to let you know, this is not my first story. I have another account, hidden somewhere in fanfiction. The idea of having slaves is not new to me, I have written some other stories on it, and call me mean I call it fun. Anyhoo… reviews are loved!
