Alright so, I am starting Prin Pardus' oneshot challenge. You can find the list of words that I will be going off of on her profile, or you can just wait and see. Here goes nothing. Read and drop a review if you enjoyed, or even if you didn't?

~Injured~

The young brown kit lay on her side in her nest, her sides heaving with exhaustion. She was so tired, so very afraid. It didn't seem to be possible; it couldn't be possible that the cat from her nightmares had finally hunted her down. Somehow it had happened though, somehow, he had found her. At first she thought it had just been another dream, but the pain that was currently filling her body proved her wrong.

In her nightmares she had always woken up before he got to her, but this time she didn't. Her yowls of fear had filled the air as she had cowered behind her protectors, terrified. He had planned to kill her, wanted her blood on his claws. Scorch had saved her; the brave tom had kept her from dying. Sharla and Piccolo had attempted to help as well, but in the end it was only Scorch who saved her from her death. Seeing her father, Nat in front of her again had sparked terrible memories for the young kit. She was aged beyond her moons, and it did not seem fair. But when had life ever been fair for Hope?

It certainly wasn't fair when she was first born; her mother was depressed from the moment she and her siblings first snuggled into her warm pelt. Her father had been kind then, his amber eyes soft and worried. He had named her Hope to try and keep her mother going on, and it had appeared to work for a little while. Her mother had allowed her and her two siblings to nurse, and had even cleaned them up.

No childhood stories had been exchanged between them however, and she had never even learned the games that most kits eagerly played. As time passed, Nat had become crueler and crueler to his children. He had stopped soothing them with quiet and calm words when they woke up whimpering from terrible dreams. Instead he had hissed at them to shut up from across the den. The large black tom hadn't even bothered to move from his nest.

Then the general quality of things had continued to decline. The warm air that flowed into the den had changed to freezing snow, and less prey came back. The little prey that was brought back was eaten greedily by Nat, only a few pieces being shared with her mother. That was before the sickness came.

It had started with her sister Shadow. Shadow was even smaller then Hope and she had always been weaker. She had inherited the green eyes of Hope's mother, Dawn. In a way it was ironic that the name of the depressed mother was Dawn; the word Dawn had always inspired the thought of a new future to Hope. After what she saw with her mother and her family, she doubted it ever would. Shadow had the black fur of Nat, but none of the cruel tom's strength or spite. One morning, when they were all about two moons old, Shadow had woken up coughing.

Throughout the day, her coughs grew worse and worse and she seemed to grow weaker. Hope had watched her sister with a growing concern, and tried to convince her to nurse. Her sister had refused, claiming that she was too tired and just wanted to be left alone to sleep. Hope had tried to get Dawn's attention, but she had disregarded it as nothing. She had cast Hope to the edge of the nest, and told her not to bother her. Hope had kept silent, but still silently worried about her sister.

The next morning, Hope's brother, Snake, was coughing as well. This worried Hope even more than Shadow's illness, because Snake was larger. If Snake was sick, then something might be seriously wrong. Snake had Dawn's light brown pelt and Nat's amber eyes. He could be a bit of a bully at times, and often teased Hope. Those remarks usually didn't go to her heart though, and she still cared deeply for him.

Again, she tried to keep Dawn's help, and again her help never came. This time Dawn didn't even try to acknowledge her young daughter, just went back to sleep. Nat hissed and snarled at Hope when she attempted to talk to him about it. He had called her a coward and a weakling, and asked why he would help some pathetic kits like them. They would be useless to him if they could not survive on their own, and he would not waste herbs or prey on attempting to extend their life. A sudden burst of fury that the brown kit hadn't known she could feel had shot through her. She hissed at her father, and demanded help. That was how she got the scar on her back leg.

Defeated and with her fear renewed, she had limped back to her mother's nest. Hope had struggled for a week to keep her strength up; she nursed and tried to help her brother and sister. The efforts were futile however, and the two kits soon perished. Hope had been forced to mourn silently, not even having a grave to stand over. Nat had thrown the bodies out, hissing that it was a waste of effort to dig a grave for such disgraceful kits. Dawn had howled for nights, and began to eat less and less prey. As her mother stopped eating, the food stopped coming back and the milk stopped flowing. After a few days of this Hope became desperate.

When Nat had left to do the days hunting, the small kit crept out of the safety of the den. She stumbled around in the bright sunlight, hoping to scent some prey. When Hope did not scent anything, she wandered farther and farther away. Soon the sun was high in the sky and the kit was far from home. She was considering giving up and heading back when she spotted something ahead. There was a burrow dug into the ground!

The burrow was large, and Hope could only imagine what type of prey it would hold. She stumbled towards it and a rancid scent drifted into her nose. The scent might have discouraged some other kit, but she was stubborn. Hope continued forward until she saw a muzzle emerge from the hole. She stood in horror, as a beast from her nightmares emerged. It was a large red fox, at least three times the size of the tiny kit. The fox was snarling and spitting, infuriated by this intruder. Hope gasped, terror filling her tiny body.

Suddenly the tiredness in her limbs was gone. There were no more thoughts of catching prey, or making her mother eat. There was only fear and the instinct to flee. So that was exactly what the terrified brown kit did. She turned tail and started to run as fast as her body would allow towards the safety of her den.

At the time Hope was too afraid to consider what would happen if Nat discovered she had left. All that mattered was that she escaped, that the huge monster did not devour her. Somehow, Hope made it back to the den ducking and dodging. She led the fox straight into the cave and darted behind Dawn, praying for her to protect her.

The fact that Dawn was weak and had little fighting skills did not occur to Hope at the time. The fact was, even after seeing her mother degrade to the wreck that she currently was Hope still admired her. She was still her mother and she had to be able to protect her. Unfortunately this was not the case. The fox saw the weakened she cat as prey and in front of Hope's eyes tore her apart.

Hope could still hear her mother's yowls for help; she still saw the blood whenever she closed her eyes. The fox spent only minutes on killing Dawn, but those moments would change Hope's world forever. During the killing, Hope had crept into the furthest corner of the den that she could and prayed.

The dark corner of the den turned out to be the one thing that saved her. There was a small outcropping of rock blocking her hiding place from the raging fox. Hope squeezed her tiny eyes shut and trembled, certain that her death would soon be coming. Instead, the fox found itself trapped. It had snarled and paced back and forth determined to find an entrance. Eventually, after a long dragged out period of time, the fox turned around and left.

Terrified, Hope crept out from her hiding place and approached the still body of her dead mother. Her legs were trembling under her, and she stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing with her nose buried in her pelt. Dawn was really gone, this wasn't like the times she ignored her kits needs and pretended to be gone. No, this time she was really never coming back. Hope let out a wail of grief and pressed her nose into the mauled still body of her depressed mother.

Hope laid there for what felt like days, before she heard a wail behind her. Slowly and stiffly, she raised her head and turned around. Nat was standing at the entrance of the den, his muzzle raised in an angry hiss. His amber eyes seemed to glow with rage, and for a moment Hope was frozen in place.

"You." He hissed and headed for Hope. Suddenly the fox seemed like the lesser danger; the main danger right now was the furious tom that was headed for her. All of the affection that he had once shown her, all of the love that he had once held for her had vanished. In its place were rage, rage and blood lust.

"You did this!" He roared and took a swipe at the cowering kit with his claws extended. Hope ducked and darted around him racing for the entrance. "You killed her!" Nat whirled around and chased after her, catching her back with his claws. Three long cuts marked where he had hit her, and a searing pain had shot through her. "I should have killed you when you were born!" He screamed, and Hope channeled all of her energy into running forward. The pain was pushed to the side as she ran; there was nothing more important than running.

Nat tried to pursue her, but she was young and fast. She had the advantage of fear on her side, and in the end the tom was forced to fall back. He had collapsed on his side and yelled one final threat that had haunted Hope's nightmares. "One day I will find you; and when I do you are dead scum! Dead!" Those words had echoed over and over in her head, until that night.

He hadn't been able to fulfill his threat. Hope was still alive, she was missing an eye but she was alive. The scars from that night were still carried on the kit. Both physical scars and mental scars would haunt her for the rest of her living days. She had been injured from her past that much was certain. The past cut deep and few would ever know how much it pained her.

But the young kit was a survivor. She was injured but not dead. Hope had lived through many nightmares that a cat of her age should never have had to face. She was strong, she was injured but not broken.