So this is my first challenge for a new forum, WaveClan. You should check them out, they're really cool people! :D

SCARS

For WaveClan's 'Traitor' Challenge

Antpelt groaned, turning over in his nest. His wounds throbbed with terrible pain. They would be deep scars when they healed, but they would show his strength as a warrior. They would show that he had fought for his Clan. Even if his Clan wasn't truly WindClan, but the Dark Forest.

In the haze of the real world, Kestrelflight hovered over him anxiously, murmuring to the cats who came to visit him. They were his friends, his family... but he didn't know them through the haze of his pain. He knew he had earned these wounds in training. He wasn't strong enough to beat Thistleclaw, but he would be... someday he would be.

He flinched and winced and moaned as Kestrelflight dabbed polituces of herbs on his wounds. Black spots danced in his vision as the pain grew worse and worse. He couldn't feel his wounds healing as he usually could. The infection seemed to grow worse and worse each day, and eventually, Antpelt began to worry that he wouldn't have any scars to show for his loyalty— only a corpse. The throbbing, hot, burning infection was eating him up from the inside.

He began to fear that he would die. But strangely, the notion filled him with not so much horror... but with awe. He would truly become a member of the Dark Forest— he would have died for his new Clan, the greatest honor of all. He would become a true warrior of his new Clan, a trainer instead of a trainee.

He would still be able to see Ivypool, too. He had always been fond of her— the ThunderClan apprentice had been drawn to the Place of No Stars for the same reason he had: jealousy. Antpelt had been jealous of his brother, the most popular, well-liked tom in the Clan. He had been drawn to the Dark Forest and nurtured his hate, his desire for revenge... He had learned how to fight, how to be the best, how to kill. While his brother remained alive (for now), he was growing more and more accepted in WindClan.

At this point, though, Antpelt didn't care about the cats on the moor. He had found a new Clan, a place where he actually belonged. Where cats— like the sympathetic Ivypool, or the cheerful Hollowpaw— actually liked him and appreciated him. Where he wasn't a burden, he was an asset. He didn't care about the warrior code, he didn't care about his Clan. He was proud to wear these scars of honor, even if they did cost him his life.

He may be a traitor to WindClan, but he was loyal to the Dark Forest.

One moon later...

Antpelt growled at the ShadowClan apprentice he was training. "Harder! You've got to hit harder!"

The apprentice glared at him, her slight frame trembling. "I'm hitting as hard as I can, Antpelt!" she complained. "I'm small, remember?"

Antpelt swished his tail. "Do you want to fight for the Dark Forest in the final battle or not, Nightpaw?"

"Of course I do!" Nightpaw protested, her black fur fluffing up. "But I can't hit any harder!"

"You'll have to hit harder," he hissed. "Or we'll send you back and we won't let you fight!"

"You wouldn't do that," Nightpaw mewed, suddenly afraid. "You're not Tigerstar, you're not in charge!"

Antpelt snarled in her face and growled, "But I died for the Dark Forest. Tigerstar will listen to me if I tell him that you wouldn't do the same."

But Nightpaw only looked at him strangely. "I heard that you died in training, not in battle."

"I died training for the battle to come," Antpelt hissed. "Who told you that?"

"Thistleclaw," the apprentice replied. "He also said that he gave you those scars you wear— because you wouldn't hit hard enough."

Quick as lightning, Antpelt pounced on top of Nightpaw, pinning her to the ground, his claws pricking her shoulder skin. "I didn't hit hard enough, yes," he breathed into her ear. Nightpaw had gone very still, knowing she was at the mercy of her mentor. "But I learned from my mistake. I hit hard enough now." He got up off the smaller cat and swished his tail as she shakily got to her paws.

"Now," he growled. "Hit harder."

As Ivypool's determined face began to fade from view, Antpelt's body burned with a firelike pain. His scars had been reopened— he had failed his Clan. He had died in training once, he had died in training again. He hated Ivypool in those moments. He may be a traitor to WindClan, but he had promised himself that he would not let down the Dark Forest.

But here he was... slowly fading from existence. One of his new Clanmates— Ivypool, whom he had actually liked!— had killed him. His new Clan leaders had ordered it to be so. He should have killed her— he had done nothing but train since he had died the first time. He was stronger than any living WindClan cat had ever been! But he hadn't.

At least the Dark Forest had a new warrior in Ivypool...

And suddenly Antpelt realized just how terrible the Dark Forest was. How they tore away those with weaknesses from the love of their Clans and trained them in hideous darkness, nurturing hate and spite. How they turned cats into monsters. How they destroyed lives, and how they didn't care when they did so...

But it was too late for Antpelt. He foggily tried to grasp at this higher knowledge as his mind and body faded, as he slowly... just... stopped... existing...

He hoped with his last, weak, dying thought that the Dark Forest would get what was coming to it.