A Dark Christmas Carol
A/N: This is a strange version of Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol, faced at Blackstar's perspective, and JUST IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS. )
Please read, review, and enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated!
P.S. Yes, I know that some of this didn't happen and that some of the things mentioned can't happen with cats the way they did... I understand. Please don't try to flame me because of that.
And no, I do NOT own the Warriors series. Of course…
-Stormeh
Ah, Christmas time rolls 'round the corner once more. Many Christmas stories haunt the minds of those unfaithful to others, disrespectful and such as well, and this is, perhaps, just another story that you may add to that collection.
But perhaps you, dear reader, shan't follow the path of just putting this story aside as a knock-off of yet another Christmas story, but will pay heed and attention to the message in the story, even though it doesn't have anything to do with humans, but…cats.
Yes, A Dark Christmas Carol is a strange story indeed. Based on cats from the Warriors series…could you imagine that…
Now, then, dear reader, there are some things that you will have to keep in mind to perfectly understand this story that is about to unfold before you.
First off, the Clans are indeed in their new home. It is a freezing cold leaf-bare, without much prey, except for the creatures that have moved to ShadowClan's territory for some strange reason. The Clans are starving, finding only stingy mice and the occasional rabbit or a cardinal that may have swooped down to the ground to pick up a berry that fell from a tree above that became interested in something else whilst at that place.
Second off is where our story begins…
Chapter One…
Leaf-bare is a hard time for most all cats. ShadowClan just had struck it perfectly happy this time of the year, for all prey had practically invaded their territory to hide in the marsh, and since the snow had contributed to the water, lake water had dribbled into the marsh slowly, allowing a path for fish to take to the marshy area of their territory, and, even though they didn't prefer to eat the fish, they were a welcome blessing from StarClan.
But you must understand something to make the story that I am about to relate to you perfectly clear. Tigerstar was dead as a doornail. What is so dead about a doornail I've yet to figure out, for I would prefer to use the phrase 'dead as a coffin nail,' for I would think that would be the deadest piece of ironmongery that you could find. His deputy, Blackfoot, had taken over ShadowClan, and he had later received his nine lives from the StarClan cats and become Blackstar.
Blackstar hated leaf-bare more than any cat in that territory—yet no cat knew exactly why. When patrols were to be gathered, he would send the cats out on the lengthiest-timed patrols possible, giving the cats time to have icicles on their whiskers by the time that they returned. And now is when we shall enter the present…
The huge white tom with black paws scowled as he watched the ShadowClan cats scurry around the camp, milling this way and that, busying themselves with reinforcing the protection of the camp.
A small tabby tom stumbled up to him. "Blackstar!" he mewed, voice taking on an accusatory tone. "You have sent more cats to my den recently than I've seen in there since we've had a battle! You must stop working them so hard, Blackstar."
Blackstar snorted. "Littlecloud," he growled, "you are my medicine cat. I would expect you to understand better than most about our predicament: that we need more prey on our fresh-kill pile and more protection around our camp. What if ThunderClan were to attack? Hm? What then? Would you be complaining about those cats coming to see you for…what was it again?"
Littlecloud glared at Blackstar. "It's good to know that you care so strongly for your Clan, Blackstar," he hissed at his leader, something extremely unexpected from the usually good-natured, fearful medicine cat. "Many cats have come in sick with a cold, runny eyes and noses, and Russetfur is in my den with a terrible cough that I'm praying to StarClan won't result in whitecough later." His eyes narrowed. "She's been hiding that from you and organizing patrols, going on patrols, fixing the camp, and doing everything you've ordered her to do, just like the rest of your warriors. Were ThunderClan to attack, I wouldn't expect them to ravage our camp, kill our warriors, and leave with our prey, but, as of right now, that wouldn't be hard for formidable warriors such as theirs that aren't busying themselves with things that are too strenuous for leaf-bare." He nodded curtly. "Russetfur will be out soon to organize the next dawn patrol." And with that, the small tom stalked off, leaving Blackstar's jaw hanging slightly.
"Blackstar!"
The tom whipped around, mouth closed, as the scent of ThunderClan filled his nostrils. His fur bristled and his claws unsheathed as his eyes fell on Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, and…Stormfur? His fur bristled even more as he saw the young warrior that had chosen to join the Tribe…the one he had seen as an apprentice…
He shook his head. "What is your business here?" he asked as Brambleclaw approached and dipped his head respectfully.
"Blackstar…ThunderClan is…running short of prey," the tom meowed cautiously.
"Very short," Squirrelflight added.
"And we were wondering if…ShadowClan had any to spare," he finished, eyes falling on Tawnypelt, who stood behind Blackstar.
The white tom snorted. "I busy myself with my Clan's business, not the affairs of other Clans unless they interfere with mine," he growled. "Why should I help idle cats when I hardly eat my own share during leaf-bare?"
"But Blackstar," the young Tribe cat argued, "why can't you only spare a couple of mice, a pigeon, perhaps?" He looked over to their fresh-kill pile. "All of your food is going to freeze, and some use it'll do you in new-leaf when the thaw comes. Your warriors are even too busy to eat, anyway!"
"Quiet!" a voice rasped from behind the cats. A dark ginger cat padded forward, wheezing, as if the effort took her breath away. "This is foolish nonsense, Blackstar. Why can't you just let ThunderClan have some of our prey and get on their way? Sure, we aren't best friends with them, but we still have to be cautious of how Clans fare during leaf-bare."
Blackstar stared at the she-cat. "Russetfur, have you lost your senses?" he meowed with disdain.
But Russetfur was staring at the ThunderClan cats, one in particular. As Blackstar turned his gaze to let it fall on the single cat her eyes were trained on, he sighed ever so softly.
Squirrelflight's belly was swollen.
He shook his head and turned it away from the three cats. "No," he meowed finally. "No. ThunderClan will fare by itself. Please get a patrol to escort them out, Russetfur."
As Russetfur looked on in disbelief, the black-pawed white leader padded into a den made of brambles, thorns, and ferns. He stared around it, eyes adjusting to the gloom, and sighed as he curled up in the moss that was his bed.