Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.
It was a dark night, Silverpelt shined brightly in the sky. Two shadowy figures ran across the meadow.
"They're coming!" The first figure whispered.
"You think I don't know?!" snapped the second figure. "It doesn't matter…they're far too fatigued to fight."
Suddenly, the wind changed directions, blowing it west, revealing a fresh RiverClan scent.
"Caught up, pests?" sneered the second figure.
"But of course, Tigerclaw, even the brutal winds cast no effect on me." It was Darkstripe who replied this time. "Don't overestimate yourself, Stonefur. I could take you easily!" Another figure stepped forward.
"So you think you can take my brother? We'll see about that!" Swiftly and quietly, Mistyfoot pounced on him.
Tumbling and rolling over and over, the two warriors snarled and hissed, both of them hoping to snag a soft spot. Tigerclaw's cold eyes watched them closely, seeming emotionless to whether his fellow rogue would triumph…
"Looks like it's just me and you now, Tigerclaw. Make your move," Stonefur growled daringly.
"Well, if you insist on fighting-" he paused. "Before we engage in combat…do you approve of your mother mating with another Clan warrior? Of your foul blood?" he spat, holding back a devilish grin. "It's not up to me to say, but that was the past and this is the present!" As he sprang, he let out a revenging shrill.
"Give up, half-blood!" Darkstripe stood across from Mistyfoot, looking at her with piercing eyes.
"Never!" As she landed on top of him, her claws caught on his ear and slashed across his eyes. Blinded, he lost footing and fell backwards. She took advantage of this moment to push him into the rushing white waters, to his violent death, drowned.
Unmistakably ignored, Stonefur knew he would not make it.
"Mistyfoot, take care of mother, and tell her I forgive her."
As she turned around, Stonefur plunged for Tigerclaw one last time, into the same waters Darkstripe was devoured into. When she got to them it was far too late. For one last time, she saw her brother's glowing pelt and all he gave up…
No one but Mistyfoot survived that night. When the stars shined so brilliantly, three cruel deaths occurred, but only one was worth mourning for.
A/N - I wrote this...like...2 years ago. Man.
