This is my entry for a monthly writing competition for The Clan of Clouds. The prompt was "If It Were to Perish Twice" which was to write about a memory of a last battle, a bloody battle, where many lost their lives. Hope you all enjoy!

It was a peaceful evening. An early dusk began to show on the greenleaf sky, fitting the tranquil mood that had settled here. The soothing songs of the birds that hummed through the air and the gentle breeze which wafted around the land, made all seem content in the world. Made everything seem without worry, without distress. It felt as if everything was focused on the present instead of the long ago past which may have been long forgotten by those who partook. The fading sunlight still laid upon the land, aware that its time there was short, yet it made the most of it. An early cricket or two began to chirp while the leaves high up on the trees swayed lightly. Nothing seemed to be able or willing to destroy the peaceful scene that had unfolded itself.

Placed in the middle of the scene was a rather old tom. His body was lain comfortably across the soft grass, his legs tucked underneath his body. His pale ginger fur was kept sleek and well groomed, despite the graying fur that was present around his muzzle. With his eyes closed and his ears pricked, he let the sounds around wash through him, mixing with him in a sense. He sat there peacefully, relishing the last of the warm sunshine that would be there that day.

The calmness was broken by a jumble of excited meows coming from nearby. The old tom opened his eyes in time to see three kits hurl themselves excitedly at him. Letting out a grunt, he rolled the kits playfully off of him. Though weaker than the old tom, the kits were persistent in their playful tackling, leaping onto his tail and back. Coming out of a nearby bush was a younger she-cat, her pale brown pelt not hiding the strong muscles that were underneath. Her eyes were filled to the brim with amusement as her gaze rested on the assaulting kits. With a sweep of her tail she bundled the rambunctious kits over to her. They let out tiny protests, saying they were playing, while she bent her head to smooth the tufts of fur on their heads.

"There will be plenty of time to play tomorrow, my dears." She purred softly. She lifted her gaze towards the old tom. "I'm sorry if they disturbed your doze, Nettle," She apologized with a respectful dip of her head.

Shaking his head, Nettle readjusted his position on the ground "No need to apologize. I always enjoy seeing young kits full of energy, and yours seem to have a lot Glade." It may not have been completely calm anymore, but it was still a peaceful moment.

The kits had managed to escape their mother's grasp and rushed back to the old tom. "Tell us a story!" One of them cried.

"I want to hear the story about the badger again!"

"No, let's hear the hawk one!"

Letting out a slight purr, the young queen shook her head. "It's time for bed, dears. You can hear a story another time." Ignoring the kits protests, she began to lead them towards an old rundown twoleg barn that stood not far from where they were. Bits and pieces of it could be seen scattered around the sides, fallen off from the countless moons exposed to the weather.

Watching the kits pad away with their tails hanging limp over the ground, he called them back to him. "Oh Glade, let them hear a story. I'm afraid my time is coming to a close and I still have many stories left untold." He meowed calmly, wisdom showing in the depths of his green eyes.

At that she stopped in her tracks. With a sigh, Glade turned around and herded the kits back to Nettle. They instantly sat down eagerly near his belly waiting to hear the tale. Glade followed more slowly behind them and sat down a short ways off "I don't like you talking like that, Nettle. You still have a long while with us." She meowed, a hint of sorrow present in her voice.

Nettle let out a purr as he flicked his tail slightly in the air. "Lets not worry about that now. This story I am going to tell you is one I haven't told anyone, not even you Glade."

Glade's ears perked up along with the kits, curious as to what the story was.

Collecting his thoughts, he began "Well, it all took place many moons ago, before any of you were even born. I was a young and energetic cat. I had been living with a clan at the time. It was a prosperous group, always having enough food and territory. We had no enemies, or so we had thought. We always tried our best to befriend others who lived outside our territory. One rogue cat had came to visit us one day to tell us about a new group who had come to live nearby. We sent out a patrol of four cats to go and greet the newcomers. In response, they sent us back one of our cats yowling about how they slaughtered the rest."

Holding back a shiver, Glade interrupted the old tom's story. "Let's not have it be too violent. I don't want my kits bothering me with nightmares." She meowed.

"It won't be," Nettle meowed politely with a dip of his head. "Anyways, we all knew what was going to come out of this. We knew, but we didn't have much of a choice. They killed the ones we cared for, so we had to give them something in return. An eye for an eye is what we were thinking," his voice began to trail off as he sat there remembering. His gaze had drifted to the sky for a few moments before the impatient meows from the kits shook him back to reality.

"What happened next?"

"Did you fight them?"

"Tell us!"

Shaking his head to the side, Nettle brought himself back to the present. Signaling with his tail for silence, the old tom went on. "What else could we have done? The next day we launched a patrol to teach them a lesson. I had been ordered onto the patrol, despite my repeated attempts to stay behind. Our leader told me that if I was one of them I had to show my loyalty, or I would be treated like the enemy." Letting out a sigh, he hung his head towards the ground "That was the biggest mistake of my life."

The youngest kit piped up, "Why was that?"

"Because I lost everything! I lost my family, my friends, my home!" Nettle exclaimed. "The cats I came to consider as my family were killed in front of my eyes. They fought bravely, oh yes, we all did, but we were outnumbered and out skilled. It didn't take long before we were beaten. They had us where they wanted. We were their prey. I saw the ones closest to me get killed off around me. I barely escaped with my life." He stopped speaking as the renewed grief and pain washed over him once again at the memory.

Glade laid her tail on the old tom's shoulders. "It's alright Nettle. If you don't want to continue you can tell us another time."

"I'm fine," he meowed, managing to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "In the end only a few members of the patrol made it out. I was one of them, obviously. We were all badly wounded. Some of us didn't even make it back home. I got off pretty lucky, a few deep scratches here and there, but otherwise well." Nettle flicked his tail at a scar that laid upon his flank. "This was from that battle," he explained, flinching as if he had just received it.

"After the battle I didn't want to head back to the camp. So instead I headed to the top of an overlooking hill. From there I could see the survivors telling the rest of the group what had happened. There were so little of them left there. Only a couple of us had stayed behind and a couple that survived. I watched them from that hill, and I knew I couldn't go back. Not there. It wasn't anything anymore. We had been beaten." Nettle let out an uncontrollable cough, breaking off from the story.

Glade gave one glance at him before silently pushing herself to her paws and padding off. When she returned a few moments later, a dripping ball of moss hung in her jaws. She placed it gently at his side before reclining onto her haunches once again. Dipping his head in gratitude, Nettle lapped gratefully at the soaked moss. As the cool liquid reached his throat his coughing gradually died down. "Where was I? Oh yes. We had been beaten. So I went off on my own. I didn't have anywhere I wanted to go except away from there. On the second day after the battle I had collapsed in the woods, my wounds finally catching up to me. That's when I met your mother, Blitz. She had found me lying there on the brink of death. Luckily she knew her way around herbs and in no time I was back on my paws."

"Why did you never tell me any of this?" Glade questioned, surprise and shock clearly present in her voice.

Nettle glanced up at the sky before answering. "This was a part of my life I mainly wanted to leave behind. That's why I changed my name back to just Nettle. There was some good that came out of it, meeting Blitz, but that didn't last long with her death. I was left alone with one thing left in my life, you. I had lost so much, my home, my family, Blitz." Taking a deep breath he continued, "I wanted to focus on the one thing that I still had, not what I didn't."

Glade nodded her head slowly in acceptance. Stretching her legs, she nudged her kits to their paws. She herded the now sleepy kits towards the barn. After a short while she made her way carefully back to where Nettle sat. "Do you want me to sit with you?"

Giving her a rueful look, he shook his head. "No, no. Go take care of your kits. I'll be here in the morning, though not sure for how long."

With a sigh, Glade leaned towards him and licked the top of his head lovingly. With her tail drooping between her legs, she retraced her steps to the barn. With one last glance at the old tom, she headed inside, leaving him to stare out at the stars that hung above him. One star in particular shone brighter than the rest, getting brighter and brighter with each moment. Almost as if it was getting closer to him, or he was getting closer to it...