The WindClan camp was a roaring mass of cats, torn dens, and blood. Hollyleaf crouched at the top of the slope that lead down to the camp, watching intently for the perfect moment to race down and strike. She felt a breeze tickle her fur and shivered violently—she still hadn't gotten used to the sensation of wind after being in the tunnels with Fallen Leaves, and it was strange to feel it again.
She heard pawsteps sneaking behind her and whipped around with claws outstretched, unable to help but smirk when she raked a Dark Forest cat across the muzzle. He stumbled back, and Hollyleaf took that moment to propel herself forward and bite down hard on his neck. Her teeth sunk into his tender flesh and she heard him begin to choke, struggling to breathe as blood bubbled in his throat. She dropped his body from her jaws and examined him. It was a gray tom with blue eyes, blood pouring from his neck wound. Suddenly, her mind took her back to a night many moons ago, and before her she saw that same body in a river, blood spilling from him and following the current.
"Ashfur?" She whispered aloud, staring down in horror.
Screeches from the ensuing battle brought her back to reality, and she noted that this cat was a tabby and definitely too small to pass off as the former ThunderClan warrior.
One cry in particular caught her attention. She snapped her neck in the direction of the WindClan camp and saw three Dark Forest cats looming over Ivypool. With swift paws, she flung herself down the hill and leapt into the fray, unsheathing her claws as she tore fur off of Hawkfrost's pelt.
Whatever happens to me doesn't matter, she thought to herself, feeling a surge of motherly affection well up in her for reasons she could not fathom. As long as you return safe to your sister.