Title: Decisions
Rating: T (Graphic Violence)
Point of View: Mottlekit
-.- begin story -.-
The little gray kit shivered in the snow, whimpering. She watched in breathtaking horror as the claws flew down in a flash and tore another wound in her mother's body. "Stop it!" Mottlekit screeched, lunging at the black tom. Once again, she was batted away with a paw and sent tumbling into a tall snowdrift. Mottlekit coughed and spluttered, wiping the snowflakes from her eyes.
Her vision cleared just in time for her to see the killer grab her mother by the scruff and slam her body into a willow tree. Mottlekit gave short, broken cries, charging again. "Stop! Leave my mommy alone!" Her paws felt so numb, so nonexistent as she flew across the gray ground towards the tom's legs. She sank her little teeth into his fur, pulling as hard as she could.
The tom sighed as if disappointed, allowing the body of Mottlekit's mother to slump to the ground. "Poor, weak kit. Stop trying. You're only hurting yourself. Tell you what. Leave me be, don't say a word about this, and I won't kill you. Got it?"
Mottlekit sobbed, throat tightening. Her next words were strangled, forced out just after the tom vanished into the trees. "Yes, daddy."
-.- linebreak -.-
The gray she-kit whined as she awoke from her hideous nightmare. Just a dream, she lied to her self. Streamrose is alive. But as Mottlekit looked up and found herself lying in the curve of Rainfall's belly between Fawnkit and Mintkit, her spirits fell. Of course Rainfall took me out of the nest I spent so long decorating, she thought angrily, looking at the nest which lay a few fishlengths away.
Mottlekit stood up and slowly padded over to the nest, running her paw across the soft white willow bark and rough oak leaves. Green moss and grass were carefully woven together with feathers, and the sun's pale gray light made it glow like a warrior from StarClan. This is all I have of you, mother. The nest we used to share, the one I'm trying to fill with everything you love.
Poisoned by melancholy and sorrow, Mottlekit lay down in her nest and rest her head on her paws. She allowed sleep to consume her again, to feed her dreadful nightmares.
Instead of waking up screaming, her horrible reverie was interrupted by a prod in her ribs. Mottlekit awoke with a gasp, flailing in her nest for a moment. Cruel laughter echoed in her ears, and suddenly a white she-kit pinned her shoulders so she couldn't move. Mottlekit hissed, kicking Mintkit in the stomach as hard aas possible. "Get off!"
The white she-cat stumbled back dramatically, whining. "Mama! Mottlekit hurt me!" Mintkit cried, flashing a smirk towards Mottlekit. Mottlekit curled her lip and opened her jaws to protest, only to be scooped up in somecat's jaws. "Put me down!" she growled. Rainfall dropped Mottlekit outside the nursery, hissing. "You need to learn respect! I only adopted you because you can't fend for yourself! I didn't want a fourth kit. Now sit here and don't come back in the nursery until tomorrow morning," she snapped.
Mottlekit's shoulders sagged as Rainfall disappeared into the nursery, cooing to that filthy liar Mintkit. The gray she-kit stood up, looking around camp. None of the apprentices seemed to be here, and there were only a couple of warriors in camp. None of the cats in camp liked Mottlekit, which made her even more depressed. If only Sablepaw and Stormpaw were here.
Mottlekit felt empty and helpless without her best friends. They comforted her when she cried, listened to her when she talked about her problems, and stayed with her every moment possible. But now was not one of those times. Sablepaw and Stormpaw were the only cats who understood her suffering. Even before Streamrose died, Mottlekit had been a little unstable. Now things were worse, with no father, a hateful foster mother, and a "sister" who lied constantly to make her look bad.
Mottlekit sighed as the sunhigh patrol appeared in camp, Sablepaw at the rear. Anger and sorrow was gouged in her face, along with a long wound that oozed blood. The whole patrol was covered in serious wounds. Mottlekit staggered back in horror as Grassfur and Minnowpaw ran forward, surveying wounds and asking questions. The gray she-kit turned and ran into the elders' den, hiding among the shadows, foul stench and reeds. There hadn't been an elder in a while, not since Fuzzyfur died of old age. That made the den a hideaway for Mottlekit whenever Rainfall kicked her out of the nursery.
She found her favorite pebble hidden in a small hole in the ground, and she bounced it between her paws. Mottlekit imagined it was a mossball, and that her paws were she and Streamrose. Soon enough the happy image faded as Sablepaw burst into the den. "Stormpaw's dead! Come see him!"
Mottlekit scrambled to her paws in a panicked fashion, charging past Sablepaw. Stormpaw's limp black form lay in the center of camp, covered in wounds too deep to heal. Blood pooled around him, giving his black paws a maroon tint. Mottlekit stopped just short of Stormpaw, her little paws becoming soaked with the thick blood. "No!" she wailed.
Grassfur stopped, dropping herbs before Mottlekit. "I am sorry. There was nothing-" he began. The gray she-kit whirled around on him, her white paws completely shrouded by Stormpaw's blood. "Yes! There was plenty of things you could do! You all hate me, that's why you don't want me to have any true friends to talk to! Let me guess, you want to kill Sablepaw too?!" Mottlekit hissed.
Sablepaw was taken aback, staring at her medicine cat warily. Grassfur looked stung. "It was the will of StarClan," he murmured. Mottlekit shook her head wildly, taking more steps forward and leaving a trail of bloody pawprints from Stormpaw's body. "No! It wasn't! It was your will! You let him die! Call yourself a medicine cat?"
Mottlekit charged back towards her hideout, whining loudly. "I hate you! All of you! Nobody but Sablepaw understands me!" she screamed. She vanished into the darkness of the elders' den again, sobbing loudly. Mottlekit closed her eyes to soothe the burning and when she opened them again, a gray she-cat crouched before her. "Hello, kit," she whispered, a hypnotic and mysterious glow in her eye. "Wanna play?"
-.- end story -.-
Author's Note: I present to you the first chapter of Decisions, a spinoff of Better than Planned. I wanted to describe Mottle's PTSD and what made her such a creature. I hope you enjoyed it~