A/N: My first challenge for The Clan Cat Cafe! We were given a word as a prompt and had to write a 700+ word story. My word was anger. This is based on a scene from a story I plan to write.
Anger. That one word described his entire life from the moment he was born. First it was his Clan, then his leader, then his own parents. The Clan, because of a mistake that was made at his birth, the leader because of some sort of ancient grudge, and his parents for the mouse-brained mistake that cost him his tail.
Now, the next step in the cycle. He felt this rage and anger. The cause of his rage? Rejection. After his apprentice mistake, his parents rejected him and his littermate. They shunned them and never uttered a word in their presence. It excelled to the point they refused to sleep anywhere close to the two or eat within a fox-length of them.
Pain tore his heart to pieces, only serving to fuel his anger with the gaping wounds it opened. His brother, calm and disdainful, just brushed off their parents' outright rejection and moved on with his life, although he harbored deep within his soul, the scars from the hurt caused by them and their hurtful ways. But alas, he failed to do the same as his kin and bore a deep grudge which only confrontation could ease and erase.
Now, in the present time, he was a proud warrior of his Clan and he fought with a ferocity borne through moons of callous training. He leapt from side to side, striking stinging blows where he could and swift attacks as was deemed necessary by his ingrained instincts. In this battle, his opponent was a small, sturdy tom. His enemy may have been a warrior, but his size convinced his enemies otherwise which gave him the element of suprise.
Muscles rippling under his smooth dark brown fur, the angry cat lunged, knocking the sturdy tom off his paws and into the dust. The brown pelt of his opponent shredded beneath his thistle-like claws as he dealt blow after blow, How ironic, he mused, His pelt resembles my tail after it was severed.
And how ironic it was that he would cause the same type of pain he experienced that day. That fateful day so long ago when the rage of his father and mother had begun. It was also the day he lost his tail to the Twoleg wood cutter and his dignity to the blood that dripped from the wound and into the dust of shame.
"Your antics resulted in the loss of your tail and the capture of your brother! I hope you're happy with the pitiful behavior you showed the other day!" His mother's scathing words still rang in his ears. He had been laying in the medicine den, his tail a bleeding stump swathed with marigold, burdock root, and cobwebs. The acrid words stung worse than any wound could possibly be capable of.
He leapt again at his enemy as the battle raged on all around him. This time, though, the familiar anger took over in a haze of red. Teeth met the brown tom's throat and pierced his windpipe. A strangled breath followed, then a wheezing yowl as he went limp, the light from his yellow eyes dying forever. The hazy rage faded from the gray cat's mind.
What have I done? he wondered in despair as he laid eyes on his slain opponent, Oh great StarClan what have I done? He staggered backward, ambling into a hissing enemy she-cat who turned on him, ginger and black pelt ruffled, and spat in his face. He reeled backward and tripped over the tree stump on the battlefield.
He fell to the ground, thinking of what a disgrace he must appear to be to the enemy Clan. Indeed, he did appear a fool; much like a new warrior fresh out of training. Shame burned his ear tips, causing the anger to return; this time directed at himself.
This caused him to leap back into the fray and fall in beside his littermate. He faced off against two apprentices, both of which were only about half his size. Contrary to their size, they beat his brother back with a perfect unity in their strikes. It was almost as if they could read each other's mind.
His brother acknowledged him with a nod and returned his attention to his opponents. Side by side, the brothers endure blow after blow until a opportunity presented itself. This moment came when the two apprentices began to grow cocky. Their moves became sloppier and sloppier by the moment.
That is when they struck. In perfect rage-filled synch, they lunged forward in a flurry of teeth and claws. A glancing blow to their opponents' flanks, a swipe at their throats. They were now in complete control, anyone could see that. Soon, they had the apprentices fleeing in terror.
Fierce satisfaction coursed through him as they ran from his powerful claws. This satisfaction fueled his anger and arrogance. His Clan won the battle that day, at a dire cost to their enemies. Three bodies lay slumped on the ground. One was the brown tabby he had so carelessly killed. The others were black and cream. Both were lacerated and bloodied almost beyond recognition.
"ThunderClan, we have won!" the victorious caterwauling of his leader sent pride rippling through his veins. Puffing out his chest, he joined in the yowling alongside his Clanmates. He raised his head to the sky and roared his victory to StarClan.
Many battles over many seasons had been fought since that day. The once-strong tom lay in a nest in the medicine den. The place of his rejection, and now he was dying there. Black-cough had come, although extremely rare, it was lethal from the moment of contraction. Not even catmint could save him now.
He felt frustration and anger at dying in such a weak way. He wished he could have been struck down in battle, like a true warrior. Here he was, though, slowly withering away into nothing. His breath came in ragged gasps and his fur was clumped and damp from sweat. Soon, he could cling to life no longer and faded away to join his ancestors in the stars.
A/N: There you have it! Angry until the end, what a sad way to live.