Dark shapes darted in and out of clumps of bracken. The color of their pelts constantly shifted and shimmered from the pale glow of the moonlight, the only audible sound of movement being a soft and steady tread of pads on stone.
Coal opened his jaws, inhaling deeply the scents of the night air. Just as his companions his mind was sharp and clear, their bodies lithe and agile with hard muscle rippling beneath their fur. Collectively together they were known as sweepers. Elite guards specifically assembled and designed to scour out, hunt down and eliminate any and all opposing enemy patrols.
And tonight was no exception.
The group traversed the forest with an energetic but poised and calculated grace, moving with the fluidity of fish in water in an organized backwards V formation resembling that of a flock of migrating birds.
Flanking the left rear of the formation was Coal himself. He stared straight ahead, his ginger furred form shifting in and out of sight as he simultaneously copied and accommodated his body to mimic the twist and turns of his comrades as they swept across the terrain while all the time barely managing to maintain the stoic vibe of the group that directly conflicted with the bubbling bursts of excitement and apprehension that writhed within him.
This was his first time out on the battlefront. As a matter of fact, it was the first time for the total number of seven cats that made up their ranks. A season and mores worth of training had prepared Coal for this.
He had been handpicked for this, he kept reminding himself. No one else was worthy enough for this honor. Of the horde of cats back at the home camp he had been singled out by their leader and put through the regimen of becoming one of the most efficient and deadly cats on the battlefield.
That meant something, being picked out of the midst of countless cats by the leader himself. That meant he had something special worth attributing to the camps success in ending the war. Ever since the day the Clans had been torn apart and disbanded by an attempted usurp by the four deputies of the Clan leaders life in the forest had been thrown into turmoil and chaos.
In the midst of the terror and carnage that ensued, several cats, through sheer charisma and appeal, rose to prominence and gathered a legion of scattered cats before breaking off into their own individual camps guided solely by them, for they, and they alone, knew how to lead a Clan and what was necessary to ensure all their survival so that peace may reign.
From this split the war started. Cats took sides, rival camps formed alliances, and just like that the former home of the four Clans had erupted into an all-out battlefield for supremacy. And there was Coal. Right there in the thick midst of it all on the front lines fighting for honor, glory, and his camp.
Coal remembered vividly his conversation with his camp's leader and the tale of glory and honor he was sure to earn from his time and service on the battlefield. He'd be awed and admired from the stories of his accomplishments, respected by all for the battle scars that laced his body. Everyone would know and remember his name, speaking of him in reverence and immortalizing him forever in history as a legend.
With all his heart's heart Coal desperately believed this to be true. He would attain his long awaited respect and refused to let anyone get in the way of him attaining his glory on the battlefield.
A sudden signal from the lead tom in command brought their excursion to a halt. The tom in question was a light brown stout and physically dominating presence referred by and known only as Boulder. Without a word, the group slunk on either side of the tom near the edge of a small hollow where they had been briefed their intended targets were sure to lie.
Crouching forward, Boulder crept closer to peer into the dark hollow. Coal and the others waited with bated breath before Boulder slowly stepped back to give them the nod to surround the perimeter.
In a near fraction of the instance of the confirmation being made the team of sweepers disappeared, seemingly reappearing out of nowhere ready in position in near perfect sync that revealed the fruition of moons of practiced training.
This was it. His body taut with a clash of anxiety and anticipation, Coal felt the seconds tick by, knowing at any moment Boulder would give the signal for the first wave to move in, and in those moments, he could feel his blood rise, searing hot with a rabid vivaciousness. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of a battle soon to be fought.
He would just have to prove his worthiness of being a sweeper despite not having been chosen as a member of the first wave.
His fury had been ripe that day, angered that he would have to settle for second string. The first wave was the one that actually got to initiate contact and engage the enemy, to prove their worth. They were the ones that would be spoken of in high regard as having the bravery and nerve to go in first. If you weren't the first to do it then who would care? Who?
Without Coal realizing it Boulder had given the signal and the first wave darted in without hesitation, making the air sing with the surprised cries and tumult yowls of the enemy. The skirmishes between the sweepers and their foes were swift and violent. The sound of claws ripping through fur, closely followed by an agonized cry that was swiftly silenced greeted Coal's ears as proof.
Boulder motioned with his tail for the second string to move in and the others joined in. Declining to immediately hurtle himself into battle as the others had done, Coal instead chose to spectate the scene at the top of the hollow, slowly panning his head across the battlefield.
The hollow itself was near pitch black, but Coal could deftly just make out the forms of the six sweepers spread out among the commotion. Most of the fighting was taking place in the center of the hollow, with the sweepers making up for their lack of numbers by the merciless dispatch of several cats that drew near them. They were doing their best to exterminate their foes as quickly as possible so a sudden comeback wouldn't be possible, but the real key to this battle's total swiftness of success would be by Coal taking the initiative and picking off the cats choosing instead to make an attempt at escaping.
There could be no survivors. As was the way the sweepers had been instilled to operate.
A sudden blur from the left of the hollow caught Coal's attention. Responding quickly, he snapped his focus towards the anomaly, locking his gaze on a small shape attempting to scrabble its way up one of the walls of the hollow.
His reaction time was instantaneous, moments later appearing at the top of the hollow and crouching down low to knock the cat's grip loose of its footholds. With a startled cry of shock the cat tumbled back downwards into the hollow, landing hard on the ground in a resounding thud with a sharp gasp for breath as all the air was knocked for its lungs.
There was no time for recovery as Coal materialized into existence near its side, bringing down a swift strike to the cat's throat to extinguish its life force without a seconds moment of hesitation.
Coal gave little pause for recognition of his first kill to sink in before he began pining for more. He wanted more targets to prove his skill and efficiency as a deadly combatant on the battlefield. The more the better.
He scanned the terrain, searching for any lingering stragglers. He had taken no more than one step from the body of the cat he'd just killed when an enraged snarl sounded from his right. Coal had only had an instant to catch a flash of amber eyes before sharp claws locked onto his shoulder, piercing into his skin and setting it aflame with pain.
The cat sunk its claws in further, shrieking madly into Coal's ears as it drew blood before the ginger sweeper was able to roughly shake the crazed cat's grip loose.
The pain was hardly noticeable as Coal eased himself into a crouching stance. He was aware of himself being injured, but the blood haze in his mind made him focused entirely on the enemy before him. The cat was stalking in front him only a few meters away now, fangs bared and claws glittering brightly in the darkness with specks of Coal's blood. Coal snarled a challenge, sardonically propping himself in a more gumption stance as he waited for the cat to strike.
He registered only one thing about the opposing cat and that was the unbridled, undiluted fury radiating powerfully in its amber eyes. There was no mistaking the unmasked cold intention in its held, Coal realized. This cat fully intended to kill him even at the cost of its own life.
Time seemed to slow as the cat leapt into the air and swung its claws forward, the adrenaline coursing through Coal's veins as he jumped up from the ground, overtaking it in the air as its claws swept harmlessly underneath Coal's underbelly.
The amber eyed cat fell back onto the ground, stumbling slightly at the awkward placement of its paws, and that was all the opening Coal needed, darting behind the cat to unleash two deft blows to the back of its head. The amber eyed cat gave a sharp cry of pain, dropping to its back as Coal followed it to the ground.
It attempted to halfheartedly bat Coal away, but at this point it was still reeling too much from the blows it'd sustained to the back of the head to do the sweeper any true harm. The ginger sweeper expertly dodge the wild flailing, picking his spot, before darting in with the spring of a snake and latching onto the neck of the amber eyed cat.
The cat attempted to squirm out of Coal death lock, but the added effort was futile at this point. Coal clenched his jaws, sinking his fangs into the cat's throat and feeling the spray of its blood slowly dribble into his mouth. The amber eyed cat's movements grew weaker and weaker finally coming to a standstill before Coal released it after a moment more of waiting.
The ginger sweeper stepped back from his fallen prey taking in the empty stare of its lifeless amber eyes. The cat had died with its eyes open, a rather disconcerting way to go if Coal had to hazard a guess.
The battle had ended with the sweepers successfully dispatching all of their intended targets without much difficulty or resistance. As first missions go this operation had gone relatively smooth without much of a hitch. Hardly if any of the sweepers had taken any damage.
No, Coal realized as he started to examine the body of the cat he had killed more closely. Even despite how well we've been trained for this type of thing, this was still too easy for us to have easily accomplished with the type of opposition we were told that we'd be facing.
The light from the moon pooled down on their small group, illuminating the battlefield in a flooding translucent light that cast the bloodstained ground in a displaced eerie aura that seemed form and highlight the current state of the consciences of the sweepers.
Coal felt his heart dull to a juddering stop as he stumbled back, his eyes stretched wide in sheer astonishment. But this wasn't-but they were supposed to be, but they aren't, they weren't. These-these were-.
"Apprentices." The word fell from his mouth with a resounding echo.
Everywhere. Scattered throughout the appalled and stupefied faces of the sweepers were apprentices, cats too young and inexperienced to even be allowed or admitted into fighting in the war. A wave of nausea threatening to offset his senses forced Coal to avert his gaze from the stockpile of bodies. How had this happened? How? How? How?
Coal woke with a jolt, the incessant pounding of his heart thudding thunderously against his chest. His nostrils reeked with the lingering stench of blood and his paws were twitching uncontrollably with muscle spasms. Where was he? What was going on? Where-!
"Focus." The full blunt of the hiss slithered into his ears.
Pulling him out of the macabre trance Coal's eyes suddenly locked gazes with the dull yellow stare of the black tipped ear she-cat known as Stripes, given that name for the brown zigzag like patches of fur that adorned her yellow pelt.
"Better?" the monotone voiced she-cat inquired.
Coal stared back, his chest heaving heavily, before slowly nodding, mumbling a soft thank you under his breath to the striped she-cat. Stripes studied him for a moment that same dull stare of hers, causing Coal to fidget, before a tepid nod and climbing to her paws.
"We're moving out soon," she intoned in that same dispassionate tone as before. "You better pull yourself and be ready to go by the time Boulder comes through to give the order." Without waiting for a response from Coal she turned around and swiftly exited the small clearing they had been resting in without a further glance back.
Coal let out a shaky breath, slowly closing and then opening his eyes as the disconcerting memories of that night churned his stomach with a vile potency reminiscent of poison. The nightmare was still fresh in his head, reverberating off of the walls of his mind in echoing thoughts.
How many times had it been now, and how long? He wondered tiredly. And how many more times was he going to have to have Stripes around to snap him out of it? Coal groaned softly feeling the acceleration at which his heart had been beating began to slowly now decrease back to normal
Life and death. How auspicious the scales had seemed to tip in their favor lately.
Ever since that night things had never been the same again. He had never been the same again. They had never been the same again. For Coal, the others sense of apathy had slowly been denuded overtime, their minds and emotions growing more and more detached as the war began to lag and drag on.
Ten moons of life in this forest at war had gone and now more than ever Coal knew this wasn't what he would've envisioned for himself. Coal didn't believe any of them had. Blame his naivety for allowing himself to be so malleable and eager to serve at the prospect of bringing fame and honor to his name. These sentiments soon shifted, however, when he had experienced what true war was like. The corrupt double game played in the shadows, the bloodstained fields, lifeless bodies, the deceit, and the lies.
There was no honor on the battlefield to be had. No glory or celebration. Only death and more death. So much death, so much innocent blood spilled.
And what was he? Nothing more than object used by those higher in power to enact and fulfill lust for power and control. They'd been told that they were defending the rights and lives of others, but were they really? With all that Coal had seen and experienced out here on the front line could he honestly say that what they, he, were doing was in the right? He could scarcely tell the difference between right from wrong anymore.
A glare of amber flashed through his mind making Coal wearily shake his head, trying haplessly to rid his mind of the cobwebs that kept his memories firmly snared in the past. Those eyes. Even now he still couldn't shake his mind clear of them. Always there, watching, judging, following him wherever he went.
Of all the cats he'd killed why was that one in particular the one most permanently set to always return?
Coal's attention snapped upright as the sound of incoming pawsteps came padding in his direction. He didn't seem at all surprise to find Boulder's massive form towering over him like a predatory bird about to make its first kill for the dead.
The light brown tom's face was passive but not nearly as lifeless or expressionless as someone, say, Stripes? And with an almost morose sense of acceptance Coal knew what was coming next.
"We have our new orders," Boulder spoke in his coarse, gravel like voice. "Let's go. We're moving out now."