A large white tom with black paws was crouching on the rough, hard ground of the abandoned twoleg Thunderpath. His amber eyes scanned around, almost nervously.
"What's wrong, Blackstar?" a deep voice growled from the far side of the path. A dark brown tabby stepped from the shadows, his ice-blue eyes staring the leader down. "So we lost one battle, we will strike again, and this time we'll win."
Blackstar seemed to come to his senses and stood tall. "What do you mean, 'we'? ShadowClan will not help your death-rampage any further! You're on your own now, Hawkfrost," he growled.
"What are you talking about?" the RiverClan warrior spat. "You promised to help me bring down ThunderClan and WindClan! Or are you too cowardly to keep fighting?" A disgusted smirk came to Hawkfrost's face.
"No," Blackstar replied flatly. "Cedarheart and Rowanclaw were killed in that battle. I don't know how ThunderClan did it, but my warriors had their backs broken. ShadowClan needs as many warriors as possible merely to survive in our new territory; we cannot lose anyone to petty squabbles over leadership." He turned away, his tail lashing angrily. "You will have to find aid in your quest elsewhere. Now, return to your Clan and don't set another foot on ShadowClan territory."
Hawkfrost stared after him for a brief moment. "Oh, no you don't," he growled under his breath and leapt.
Despite his larger size, Blackstar was down in a matter of moments. His last life was draining away before he could even yowl for help. All he could do was make soft gasping noises as Hawkfrost pinned him down and watched the light fade from his eyes.
"Now that you're out of the way, I think I know the perfect cat to take your place. Brambleclaw may not step up to help me, but I know another sibling that might just work."