Paws Stained Red with Blood
His fur was as black as night, and his eyes were as cold as ice. Strangely enough, that wasn't what unnerved the brown tabby so much. It was his paws. Not the sharp claws that lay unsheathed, glinting in the moonlight. Not how small they were and how dangerous they could be. No. His paws were red, red with the blood of someone else.
That was when they first met.
The second time they met, he received similar treatment. The small cat, (Scourge, was it?) threw insults his way, laughed at his weakness. He had refused to help yet again. But something had changed. His pelt was as black as night, but it lay smoothed, not agitated like it had last time. His eyes were still a frosty blue, but a glint of curiosity had sparked within them. And though his claws were still long and menacing, there was no blood this time.
He still left with scratches down his flank that time.
By the third time, he could tell that this cat was thoroughly intrigued. He wasn't hostile like he had been before, even asking if he'd like anything to eat. Of course, he refused. The strange black cat listened this time, ears perking up at hearing the plan. He was interested, and the brown tabby could help but let a smile slip onto his face. Of course, Scourge needed to to think, and the brown tabby allowed him that.
For the first time, he left without any injuries.
When he visited next, he was welcomed warmly. Scourge welcomed the brown tabby himself, leading him towards his nest. They sat there together, and when he was offered prey, he accepted. They talked for what seemed like hours, as if they were friends, the brown tabby smiling the entire time. This cat was falling for it. This cat was becoming putty between his claws. So when the small black cat accepted his offer, he wasn't at all surprised.
He left feeling smug, but he didn't notice the ice blue eyes watching him go.
He hadn't come back for a moon, and when he did, he noticed things were different. Cats looked at him as if he were an enemy. They stared at him as if he wasn't welcome, as if he wasn't the one who had promised them hope. When he finally spoke to Scourge he was told that everything was fine. He was just training his cats. If they were going to fight, they couldn't trust anybody, even friends. The brown tabby said he understood, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
It was as he was leaving that he remembered the red blood around the black cat's paw.
This time, the cat had come to him.
He was prepared, ready for war.
Instead, he felt fear for the first time in his life.
The cat had refused the offer at the last minute, and the brown tabby had challenged him. His plan had fallen into place, and the cat had ruined it.
He was blinded by anger, and he lept, aiming for his throat. Instead, he got his own torn out.
The cat had fur which was black as the night, untrustworthy and frightening. His eyes were a piercing blue, as if he could see through ever lie he told. But that wasn't the worst. It wasn't the collar around his neck, teeth sticking out of it at awkward angled. It wasn't the claws, long and glinting.
It was the cat's paws, stained red with blood.
His blood.