Battle Instinct
He stalked through enemy territory, the fur of his belly brushing against the grass and dry ferns scraping his pelt. The stench of ThunderClan made his nose twitch and his ears flicked at the slightest sound.
He was alone, Brokenstar had decided that he'd be a lot more stealthy if he didn't bring another warrior along on his mission. All the same, he couldn't help but wish for a companion to watch his back and an extra pair of eyes to look out for an oncoming patrol. But every cat knew that their Clan leader's words were the Warrior Code, and to disobey your leader was to go against StarClan.
So here Clawface was, slinking through ThunderClan land, every muscle tensed and anticipating an ambush.
He stopped for a moment to draw in a few deep breaths in an attempt to slow down his pounding heart. Never before had he ventured this deep into the territory of another Clan and never before had he hoped it would come to this. But Brokenstar had said it himself, desperate times led to desperate measures. Clawface had once thought himself to be above stealing kits like a dishonourable rogue, but ShadowClan needed to be strong and his leader always knew what was best for his Clan. Raggedstar himself had chosen Brokenstar to succeed him, and every cat he knew trusted the late leader's judgement.
He heard the underbrush nearby him rustle and froze, crouching low to the ground.
Fight or flight?
If it was a patrol, there was no way he could fight it and win. Maybe if it was just an apprentice out hunting he could take it on, but any kind of fight would no doubt give himself away. Running was the best option, but Brokenstar would be livid if he returned back to camp empty-pawed. Maybe if he just stayed where he was and remained very still, he could remain undetected...
The foliage stopped rustling as a mouse skittered out from the bushes, whiskers twitching as it looked at its surroundings. Upon catching sight of Clawface, it darted into a clump of ferns.
He almost sighed with relief, waiting a few heartbeats in case the mouse was being followed by a hunter before carrying on. He could smell the scent of ThunderClan cats getting stronger; he was getting close.
With every pawstep closer, he could feel his fur stand on end and he struggled to hide his fear. The last thing he wanted was for a ThunderClan warrior to smell his steadily growing panic and raise an alarm. The rest of the Clan would be on him in an instant and Brokenstar would never get those kits. He paused, forcing his fur to lie flat as he reached the edge of the camp.
Behind a thick screen of gorse and brambles, he could hear the voices of a Clan. His ears flattened against his skull; this was insane! There had to be at least ten cats still in the camp. Warriors, apprentices, even elders could put up a fight if need be. He hissed, sincerely regretting not begging Brokenstar for a patrol. Of course, it wouldn't exactly be discreet, but there would be no need for subtlety if they managed to take the Clan by surprise.
He followed the brambles away from what he guessed to be the entrance to the camp, trying to find an opening of some sorts that he could use to sneak in. He spied a gap in the thorny bushes and wriggled through as best as he could, trying his best not to make the brambles shake and give him away.
Stopping near where the brambles opened up into the camp, he observed his surroundings. The place was by no means empty, he spotted several warriors sharing tongues in the shade of a hazel tree on the other side of the camp and two apprentices – a grey and a ginger – were loitering together a little closer to Clawface's hiding place.
It was only a matter of time before they detected his scent; he had to act quickly. From a nearby bramble thicket he could smell the undeniable scent of milk. That had to be the nursery, but it would be impossible to enter without exposing himself to the camp of ThunderClan cats.
If he couldn't use the entrance provided, he just had to make his own.
Casting a cautious look back inside the camp, he carefully shuffled backward out of his tunnel and silently padded around the back of the nursery den. The thicket was incredibly thick, but there was one place where the thorny tendrils were just a bit thinner and he could see inside the den. He couldn't believe his luck, four unguarded kits were curled up in a nest made from heather and moss.
He had to work quickly, before their mother could return. A cat in the nursery would be able to detect his scent without a doubt. Unsheathing his claws, he began to work away at the part of the thicket where the tendrils were thinnest, hissing in pain when the thorns scraped his paws and tore out tufts of fur.
Clawface stiffened when an ashy grey kit opened his eyes, blinking sleep out of them and staring up at him with an expression mingled with fear, confusion and curiosity.
"Who are you?" The kit questioned, his obnoxiously loud voice rousing his littermates from their slumber.
Great StarClan, don't make me fail now!
"I'm a warrior, your mother asked me to take care of you while she was busy." He invented, tying harder than ever to mask the scent of his fear, "She's just gone out for a while, she'll be back soon, she just wants me to keep an eye on you as she-" He broke off, realising that he was rambling. He swallowed thickly and said, "I'm just going to take you out for a little while."
"Why are you making a hole in the nursery?" His sister asked, "And why do you smell weird?"
Clawface ignored her second question as he went back to work on cutting through the brambles, a little faster this time. "We're going outside of the camp, I'll get in trouble if the others find out that I'm taking you out so you need to keep this a secret, ok?" He looked down at them, "You need to be very quiet. No cat can know that we're leaving or otherwise you won't be allowed out of the camp at all. Do you understand?"
One of the kits squealed with excitement but was quickly silenced by his siblings. Clawface knew from experience that all kits wanted to leave the camp before they were apprenticed, though he was finding it hard to believe that they were so trusting toward him already.
Well, now wasn't the time to wonder about that. He cut through the final tendril and pushed aside the thorny branches to create an opening wide enough for the kits to scramble through. He could feel his heart in his mouth as the final kit was out and he turned back toward the forest.
Almost done. Everything was running surprisingly smoothly, StarClan was watching over him today. Now they just had to get back to ShadowClan territory without being discovered...
A new scent hit his nose. A ThunderClan cat was nearby. A twig snapped behind him and he whirled around.
A dark tortoiseshell she-cat was standing behind him, amber eyes wide in shock as they flickered from the kits to Clawface. Her mouth opened to sound the alarm to alert her Clan to the intruder.
There wasn't time to think. If the alarm was sounded, all was lost. He'd be discovered. Brokenstar would be discovered. ShadowClan would be the target of the forest's wrath.
The thoughts passed through his mind in a blur as he buried his teeth in her throat, gagging as the coppery taste of blood choked him. She struggled, clawing weakly at his fur as the life drained from her but he didn't let go until she had gone limp.
He staggered back, coughing up blood that had made its way down his windpipe.
He had to go. Now. If the cats hadn't discovered the missing kits or ShadowClan scent near their camp, they would definitely smell the stench of blood drifting from behind the nursery. He turned back to the kits, spitting out traces of blood that tainted his mouth. The four kits stared up at him, their eyes had widened with horror but they were too afraid say anything.
Without a word, he picked them up by the scruffs of their necks with his bloody muzzle and hurried through the forest in the direction of ShadowClan territory, no longer caring for stealth. Fern fronds slapped his scarred face, making the kits squeak in alarm and pain but he shut them out. It was only a matter of time until a ThunderClan patrol would be upon him. And if that happened, this mission would have been wasted. The tortoiseshell's life would have been wasted.
The tortoiseshell... She couldn't have been the kit's mother, she lacked the milky scent of a queen. Clawface felt a twinge of relief that he hadn't just murdered the kittens' mother in front of them. But that dark pelt of hers looked familiar...
He skidded to a halt and almost dropped the kits as a sickening feeling settled in his stomach. Spottedleaf! The ThunderClan medicine cat!
Great StarClan! He hadn't even thought before he'd torn her throat open! The only thought that had occupied his mind was that he couldn't be spotted, couldn't be seen, couldn't fail the mission his leader had given him. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and tried to swallow it. He'd never intended to murder ThunderClan's only healer!
But medicine cat or not, the deed had been done. His fear-stained scent was on her body and the stench of blood and panic had led a clear path through the territory. If he didn't move fast, all this would have been for naught.
Ignoring the mewling kits, he broke into a sprint. The roar of monsters across the thunderpath sounded through the trees in front of him, though the image of Spottedleaf's lifeless amber eyes staring up at him refused to be expelled from his mind.
StarClan have mercy on me...
AN: I was inspired to write this while reading Yellowfang's secret last year. I have to say, I was really surprised when I read about Clawface and found that the murderer of Spottedleaf was... A pretty reasonable guy. I found that he would be a quite interesting perspective to write from, especially during this scene.