Silence fell upon the forest and the sun began to set over the horizon, bathing the area in an eerie red glow. The blood hued light washed over the now still battlefield, which only a few hours prior had been filled with yowling warriors, fighting desparately to survive against an enemy more fearsome than they had ever encountered. Now only broken bodies and claws littering the forest floor gave indication of the battle.
Lying still amongst the unfortunates, was the diminutive body of a tom. Scars recently earnt marked his body, including a jagged one that ran under his left eye. His ebony fur was a shade darker than night, save one white sock which was even now, stained with the blood of his enemies. Perhaps most fearsome was the battered, purple, collar adorned with teeth and claws, trophies he had taken over countless battles and his claws, reinforced with dog teeth, capable of rending any opponent limb from limb with contemptuous ease. This was no flea bitten rogue nor a noble warrior of the forest clans.
This was Scourge, feared leader of the infamous BloodClan.
Had anyone had the need or resolve to approach the body of the fallen rogue leader, they may have marked the extremely subtle rising and falling of his flanks, minute but there nevertheless.
Hate is a potent emotion. Some say if one is both strong and stubborn enough, with a will they can bring themselves back from the brink of death's cold embrace. Icy hatred filled Scourge's heart, hatred for Firestar of ThunderClan, and this made him strong.
Painfully, slowly, one of Scourge's cold, merciless eyes flickered open followed by the other. Staggering onto his paws, Scourge surveyed the carnage of the abandoned battlefield where broken claws and bodies lay scattered as though toys thrown by some monstrous child.
"Bone? " Scourge called out with his remaining strength. If he could find his old friend and deputy, Scourge was certain that he could and Bone could rebuild BloodClan with the scattered remnants that had fled the battle.
Ruffling slightly in the breeze, a bulk of white and black fur suddenly caught Scourge's eye. Battered and bloodied, the cold body of Bone lay still, countless claw wounds crisscrossing his flanks while he lay in a scarlet pool. His eyes has been closed, creating the appearance that the massive tom was resting.
"Bone, get up," Scourge mewed quietly, nudging Bone's flank. But the tom's lifeless body couldn't hear him.
"Bone, I order you to get up!" Scourge growled as he tried to prevent a tear from rolling down his face. His pushed hard against Bone's side. It was a futile gesture.
Stepping away from the corpse, Scourge bent his head briefly in honour of his late deputy, only to wince in extreme agony as he opened up a wound. Drifting across on a breeze almost a cold as the rogue's heart, Scourge detected the scent of a patrol. ThunderClan..if he remembered correctly.
"Damn," he cursed silently, "These forest rats won't hesitate to kill me on sight. It's what I'd do. But how can I reach twolegplace like this. "
The rustling of the approaching patrol was getting close now. As much as Scourge wanted to attack, he was no fool, realising that there was only one thing he could do. Turning on his paws, Scourge fled into the forest.
Pain flared up from his wounded leg as he stumbled through the dense undergrowth but Scourge pushed the agony to the back of his mind. He could hear them now. They were searching. Were they onto him? Either way, he kept pushing on through the foliage, their voices spurring him onwards.
"What is it Cloudtail?"
"I thought I heard something." Came the immediate reply, "In the trees."
"We should check it out," replied a feminine voice, "Let's go."
Cursing his wounds for preventing him from moving stealthily, Scourge powered forth trying to ignore the intense pain coursing through his veins. Padded footsteps came up behind him. He needed to hide.
Rushing out into a hollow, Scourge scanned the area for any signs of something that could hide him and he was not found wanting. Dug out in the side of the tree was a den, leaves covering the entrance and surrounded by pungent yellow flowers. Limping over, Scourge wrinkled his nose at the sour, if stale, scent of fox. But what choice did he have?
As Scourge crawled into the den, he heard the crashing of leaves and the panting of at least three cats. Holding his breath, Scourge unsheathed his claws as he caught a glimpse of them standing outside the tunnel.
" Well Cloudtail? " demanded a dark brown tabby tom.
"I've lost the scent," replied a white tom who Scourge took to be Cloudtail.
"Well that rogue has to be here somewhere," snapped the first tom causing Scourge's pelt to bristle.
" I don't see you offering any suggestions Dustpelt," the female voice from earlier answered tartly. Scourge could faintly see through the leaves a ginger and white she cat. As she turned, Scourge bit his tongue in order to prevent himself from gasping at the sight of her mangled face, teeming with scars and missing an eye.
" If Cloudtail can't wait find the rogue then he has probably left the territory." The she cat edged closer to the white tom.
"Whatever," Dustpelt rolled his eyes "Let's just get back. I want to finally greet Fernpaw as a warrior before I go to sleep."
" Oh I'm sure you do," Cloudtail mewed nonchalantly starting to pad away causing the she cat to snicker as she followed him.
"Whatever." Dustpelt rolled his eyes before casting one last look around before disappearing off after the others.
Not having realised that he had been holding his breath, Scourge allowed himself the luxury of relaxing himself. Thunder suddenly clapped overhead and outside the den, he could faintly hear the faint patter of raindrops hitting the forest floor.
" Good," he thought, "The rain will wash away any scent I left."
Bending down, Scourge began to wash hos wounds, flinching slightly at the stinging pain. Only once he was satisfied that the bleeding had stopped did he allow the darkness of sleep to take him.