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Reflection – Scourge x Hollyleaf
For Hollyleaf, the lies and injustice are too much. The Code doesn't mean anything to all the others, and she can't help but want to take matters into her own hands. So, she does.
She murders Ashfur to prevent him from weakening Thunderclan from within. He would never rest until her mother — no, aunt, now — suffered for pushing him away and, frankly, she couldn't have the rest of the Forest see them fall.
The secret's next, and she tears it free from her jaws, yowling the truth to all who can hear her at the Gathering. She needs them to understand that this has gone on for too long, that this is unforgivable, that Firestar needs to learn that this poisoning of their blood cannot continue to happen.
The reaction is not what she had expected, and too messy, dangerous, horrific to keep up with. She wanted them to fix things, make all of this alright, but —
It's far, far too late, and she runs, runs, runs, clawing at the wet earth and brushing against the damp grass, her fur tangling in the brambles and ferns.
She doesn't care anymore, can't, won't, and —
She knows what she must do, knows what needs to be done. Leafpool cannot be allowed to live; she poisons the very air with her presence, a once-pure presence made to rot in the very sun of the rocks.
To Hollyleaf, her true mother is no medicine cat. Rather, she is a beast, a shadow, tainted. And, she knows, the only way to get rid of the darkness, the blindness, the deceit, is to kill the center of it all — to slay it, she knows, where it stands.
Her teeth chatter and her eyes dart to and fro, watering. Still, she holds the trembling in her legs, fixes her gaze on the one she'd trusted for so long. Her voice is shifty, but it does not quake.
Her paws push the yew berries towards the medicine cat.
Leafpool chooses to live with her guilt, but Hollyleaf is too disgusted to care for the sacrifice. She wants to say goodbye, wants to get away, and she will, she will, because this is nothing more than upholding the honor of her Clan.
Jayfeather and Lionblaze try to stop her, keep her from getting out, but she pushes past them, set on disappearing through the tunnels and out into the open.
(The last she hears are the wails of her brothers, and though she wants to tell them she is alright, it is far too late)
The dark-furred feline wades through the water like a fish with wings, so smoothly and quietly that she cannot hear him over her own thrashing. Her maw gulps down the salty liquid in great gulps as she paddles; she can't breathe. Gasps escape her, and she's so, so tired. All she wants to do is sleep…
A chuckle brings her back to the surface, and she looks around her, searching for the voice. Had she less pride, she may have called for the Rogue's help, but. She was a Warrior, and she would survive the floodwaters — even if it was becoming nigh impossible to see anything beyond the darkness obscuring her vision.
A flutter of something soft and bristled caresses her flank, and feathers falls over her, so heavy that she can feel herself sinking. "This is pitiful, kit," the other cat growls, and she can't help but agree.
(Why won't you help me, she wants to ask.)
The creature in front of her wraps around her frame, and claws dig into her back, so like the bite of the beastly dogs. A shiver runs through her, and the cold envelops.
She sees plumage as black as night, and she'd have thought it was Jayfeather if not for the eyes that could so clearly look into her own, vicious and sharp and not at all gentle. They gleam red, and danger and deception strike at her heart, loud and resounding, even as her frame buckles beneath the waves.
Too exhausted to screech, Hollyleaf merely looks up into the eyes of the Dark Forest's Angel, and, with heavy breaths, collapses.
Hollyleaf awakes to dry earth, soggy and waterlogged and filled with hunger. Despite this, she cannot help but feel as if she'd swam through a river of blood, what with the aura of death and destruction clinging to her fur.
If asked, she'd almost think that a winged monster had rescued her, leaving darkness in her bones and fear in her heart. But that kind of thinking has led many of her fellow warriors to ruin, and she stretches her weary limbs, anger and scorn resting just beneath the surface of her drenched fur.
Nothing but her pride and the Code matter, and she puts the events out of her mind. It's time to move on.
(In the shadows, the wispy form of Scourge watches, dog teeth gleaming, blue eyes shining, and the whispers of BloodClan's spirit running through his veins.)