Introduction
In the shadows of the night, the moon illuminates claws flashing and fangs snapping, and the background noise of cats shrieking for their lives and loyalties drowns out the sounds of the summer evening. Stars shine down serenely upon lithe bodies performing hideous dances around each other, stalking and pouncing, tearing and biting. In the middle of it all, two majestic felines creep in a circle, growling and gnashing their teeth. Their eyes glow in the darkness in a silent face-off.
"Ashstar," the dark tom spits. "I've been waiting for this for moons." His black stripes ripple across his skin as his muscles flex. Power pulses through his legs and back, waiting for a chance to strike.
"Sharpstar," Ashstar replies in a soft, beautiful voice. "Do you really want to do this? There's still a chance for peace." Behind her silhouette, lightning flashes across the sky. Thunderclouds roll in and slick drops of rain fall onto the writhing mass of battling cats. "We can still stop fighting. Listen to me, Sharpstar. Go back to ThunderClan. Take care of your elders. Let them have something to live for. This is about our kits, our apprentices, and our warriors. Not only about you. Please, let's end this together, forever. Sharpstar, are you with me?" Around them, the turmoil comes to a halt when the group hears these last words.
Indecision flashes across the dark face of Sharpstar. He glances back and forth at the crowd around him, and his pearly eyes blink once. Without a sound, he steps forward proudly. Slowly, he lifts his head and stares at Ashstar evenly. It seems like a moon has passed before Sharpstar has positioned himself directly in front of her. As fast as the lightning bolts appearing behind him, he lashes out, claws unsheathed, and rips open Ashstar's throat. A collective hiss of terror rises from the cats around him, and Sharpstar lets the limp body of the WindClan's leader slump to the wet ground.
"Does anyone else wish for peace?" He yowls. "See what happens when you try to end this war. It will never end. Not until there is a rightful winner!" Cats crouch defiantly, ready to leap onto this tyrant and put an end to his ways. They exchange meaningful looks, planning silently when to strike and where.
A bold individual raises her eyes. She pads forward silently, shouldering past cats blocking her way. "Sharpstar," she whispers.
"Blackmoon," he greets her cooly.
"Sharpstar," she repeats, this time with a deep sorrow behind her words, "how could you? Ashstar did nothing to you but try to keep whatever peace we have left. And then -" her voice breaks, but she pushes on. "And then… you killed her. Why, Sharpstar, why?"
Shocked, the dark tom flinches at the ice in her speech. His eyes widen in surprise as she melts back into the crowd as if nothing had happened. And then the cramped area clears as cats disappear back into their territories, one at a time. Each gives Sharpstar a horrified glance, WindClan and ThunderClan alike, before they vanish.
After the entire clearing is empty and silent, Sharpstar can smell the lingering scent of fresh blood and the still-vivid scent of dead and dying warriors. The reality of the situation strikes him in a heartbeat - he has needlessly killed so many brave cats that were only fighting because fighting was all they knew.
Dread sinks into his bones and what Blackmoon said flashes back to him in an instant. Why, why? You killed her…. How could he? She was right. But… no. This war is necessary. They need to defeat the rest of the evilness in the Clans. The only way is through war.
But he wonders if he was convincing his Clan or himself.
Another bolt of lightning lights up the midnight sky and jolts him from his thoughts. The entire forest is dark, and the trees around him have never seemed so threatening and ominous. He needed to go home. To be with his Clan, and his deputy, to get advice. Petalsong wouldn't have agreed with what happened tonight, and she would give some good opinions about the battles to come.
With a growl, he leaps into the waiting trees and undergrowth, ready to journey back to his home. Faster than the wind, he bounds across the stream and to his camp, ready to greet his Clan and apologize for what he did.
But there is no camp. Where it all used to be lies a desolated clearing, littered with the bodies of cats in pain. Petalsong is nowhere to be seen. The only cat left standing is a pure white she-cat, lean and muscular, but still elegant. No, there are three cats. Now two… and they combine into the same pure white one again.
O O O
In a pool of sweat, Sharpstar wakes up and his eyes fly open. Petalsong stands over him, concerned. His den is warm and cozy compared to the howling winter outside.
Another dream from StarClan….