It had been four moons since her mother had died, and left her alone. Three since her father had chosen a new mate, and denied his only daughter. Two since her Clan had cast her and her three kits out onto the cold, hard forest floor. One since those three little angels had drowned in the cruel, raging river. One, again, since her mate had chased her off in fury. She had nothing left. Gazing up at the stars, her amber eyes dark, the tortie silently cursed her ancestors.
You have left me. You tore away everything I ever had. The only cats I've ever loved, snatched from my gasp, their hearts now as cold and stoic as you, glittering up there. Frigid as ice, and just as unfeeling. I hate you. And I will have my revenge. Soon, you won't have anything left. And I will laugh.
The dark tortoiseshell she-cat ran a dry tongue over her ruffled fur, casually. As if she hadn't a care in the world. I used to be beautiful. Adored. A high-ranked she-cat with a life any cat would envy. Now look at me. Rejected by two Clans, left alone by every cat I've ever loved. They will pay. And the price is death.
Curling up to sleep, she closed her amber eyes, and dreamt.
In her dream, she saw only darkness. Darkness. Suddenly, it was slashed by deep red lines. She saw herself, long claws shining with blood, eyes burning with malice, fur matted with gore. She stood over bodies, bodies of every cat who had ever wronged her. There was Firstar, his dark ginger and gray tabby fur dull, his yellow eyes glazed over and lifeless. His deputy and son, Redfoot, lay beside his in a pool of blood almost as scarlet as his pelt. Around them were all other Thunderclan warriors who had doubted her, pushed her out. Alongside them were Riverclan cats who had sided with her mate, who rested among them, his bracken-colored fur no longer shining and handsome. He lay side by side with his new mate, a gorgeous snow-white she-cat, her once emerald green eyes now dull and inert. The warrior looked down upon the slain, amber orbs shining with pride and unadulterated elation. She lifted her exultant stare from the bodies and noticed a blinding, piercing, whiteness on the horizon, penetrating the darkness. From the light, three small bodies emerged. One had a tabby pelt of shining gold, another with fur identical to the murderous feline standing, unmoving, amid the mass of dead cats. The last wore a pelt of bracken and white, with eyes startlingly similar to the tortie she-cat's ex-mate. All three gazed at their mother, eyes filled with regret, sorrow, and worry. At once, they spoke in unison:
"The maple's burning wrath rots it to the core. It blackens, casting a shadow of darkness and death over the Clans. If not healed in time, a shattered heart will wreak havoc on the forest, bringing it down with it's past of sorrow. Be strong, mother. Do not let your branches bend with hatred. Though our hearts no longer beat, and though we grow no further, we will always be with you. Let the stars guide your path, and may the wings of hope lift you once again. Do not despair, mother, for Starclan is always beside you."
Amber eyes aflame with sadness and horror rise to meet the steady gaze of the three kits.
"Don't!" She cries. "Don't say that! The Stars are the reason you are no longer with me, my children! Never listen, never believe their lies! They have torn you from life, and me. They take everything, they destroy whatever you care about! Don't allow their corruption to spread further, little ones! I will bring them down, and I will take them all with me!" She wails, sweeping her tail and gesturing to the scattered, lifeless forms around her. "I promise you, I will take them all! I will avenge you!" She shrieks as the trio of tiny kittens began to fade away. The middle one, with his fur of gold like the dawn sky, shook his head slowly.
"Whatever you do, mother. Whatever you do, do not let fear, do not let hatred cloud your heart." They whisper, disappearing into a burst of stardust. The tortie cries out again, anguished wails echoing in the endless night.
Pale golden light seeps through the rotted, blackened wood shafts of an abandoned two-leg den. The she-cat rises, her fury fueled by the sight of her dead children, as well as the vision of what she could do. The lives she could take. Her revenge. She stepped out of the broken-down structure, ruffling her fur against the bitter leaf-fall wind. Silent as the shadows, she sneaks through the territories of the Clans. Finally, she comes to the very place she had chosen. The place of her first victim. The birthplace of her dark, passionate rage. The river.
This time, She thought, I will cross. Alone. Diving in, she felt the current drag at her thick fur, but there was no kit to sweep away, no tiny life to capture, no spark of hope to tear from her jaws this time. It was only her.
She reached the other bank, and, not even bothering to shake out her soaking, matted pelt, she stalked into the heart of the territory. No cat had awakened in the camp when she entered. Not even a dawn patrol. The tortoiseshell slid through the entrance to the nursery, and glanced around. A white she-cat lay in a nest in the far corner, curled around a perfect pale gray she-kit. The tortoiseshell padded up to the nest, and raised a paw, glittering claws unsheathed. She brought it down, hard. The she-cat woke when she felt the first claw pierce her throat, and let out a terrifying shriek. It was her last. The tiny kit at her belly's eyes opened instantly, and the tortie saw that they were blue, the same deep, all-knowing blue as his. The kit wailed miserably. The warrior that towered above raised her blood-stained paw, grinning maliciously as she prepared for her second soul-reaping swipe. A huge bracken-colored blur launched itself from the nursery's entrance and tackled the tortie, bringing her to the floor. His blue eyes widened as he saw who had just murdered his mate. It was the last thing he would ever see. In a single flash of white and red, the burly tom fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The tortie stood, grin in place, amber eyes algow with malevolence.
Mapleshade was loving hate.
This was a Darkclan challenge, hope ya liked it, I know it's a bit dark...and evil. But, hey! It's before Mapleshade reformed!