Author's Note: Hey guys, and welcome back to the second one-shot of my A Warrior's Horror Story anthology.

God, you have no IDEA how difficult this was to write. Two thirds of the one-shot got deleted a couple of weeks ago, so I had to re-write every single word. I was constantly having to re-draught stuff that I didn't like as well. That really sapped my motivation, but I'm glad I finally got it finished. :)

So I should probably explain that this one-shot is loosely based around the fairytale of Hansel and Gretel. The reason for this is because there was a challenge on the awesome forum FernClan (shameless plug) to write a one-shot based on a famous fable, so I chose this, meaing I could get a challenge and a one-shot of this completed.

Here are my replies to your reviews!:

DustyClouds- Thanks you for such a detailed review! I really appreciate it, and yeah, I wanted to make sure that the twist was built up appropriately before it was revealed and there was also appropriate hints as to what actually took place between Amberheart and the medicine cat. And yep, it was her body. He kept it due to some grotesque obsession. But on a more cheerful note, thanks again for your review. XD

Guest- Thank you so much! I'm super glad you found it creepy, and yeah, there really is a lack of proper Warriors horror in the fandom, unfortunately.

Shastamoon- Thanks a bunch! Here's the next one-shot. :)

PandaChickens- Sorry if it didn't make sense to you. Basically, the medicine cat killed Amberheart out of his own rage when he discovered she was cheating on him with Sparrowclaw, and he then blamed the aforementioned tom for it. But over time, he managed to convince even himself that Sparrowcaw had done it, and he kept the body of Amberheart in that den all along.

Nightingale- Thanks a lot for your feedback. I really appreciate it. :)

Creek the Mischievous Spirit- Thanks so much for your review, and additional appreciation for betaing it!

Featherfall's Lullaby- Thanks a lot! Glad to know the twist took you by surprise!

So without further ado, here's the next one-shot.

A Warrior's Horror Story

Chapter Two: (The Story of Badgerkit and Hazelkit)

The clearing surrounding her den is picturesque. Small droplets of dew fall from the twigs of the shrubs surrounding it, and off the short blades of grass. They reflect in the bright early morning sun, creating a glare so harsh she almost has to look away. Long shadows are cast, reaching out and scratching at the foot of her den like some feral animal. In this spot of heaven the marigold flowers are in perfect bloom; they litter the ground, igniting everything in a fire of deep crimson. The trees stand tall, foreboding guardians of the natural beauty they surround. Right in the middle of the clearing is her den. Enticing looking piles of fresh kill lie around it, tempting in any lost wanderer with their rich scent. And she has the privilege of living this dream every day of her life.

She breathes in deeply, allowing the aromas of the forest to waft into his nostrils. Although she is still inside, she can see everything through a small hole in wall of the den. Stretched out luxuriously in her nest without a care in the world. There is nothing that can bother her in this moment. Nothing at all. Surely.

What a gorgeous sunrise, she thinks. Through the gaps in the trees, she can just see the sun rising in the distance. I'm rather lucky to have all this to myself, aren't I?

An unexpected sigh echoes. It would be better if I had some prey.

Her belly has been grumbling for awhile now. Several days in fact. It's never been satisfied by the fresh kill outside, which serves a different and far more important purpose. She's been forced to live off it for far too long. She craves something exciting, something fresh, something succulent.

She turns over in her nest, eyes contracting a little. A bone lies to one side, stripped bare of the meat it once held. Picking it up, she begins to nibble on it ravenously, hoping it will yield a tiny morsel for her. After a moment of searching, completely in vain, she gives up. There is nothing. She gorged herself far too much on the last meal. How long will it be until something else is caught? A sense of longing makes her shiver as she stares through the hole once more. This beauty means nothing without if I can't find anything to eat.

Suddenly, various twigs of the shrubs opposite to the den begin to rustle. At first, she thinks the abrupt change is due to the wind, but it soon strikes her that this is impossible. It's not strong enough to cause that, so it must be something else. She sniffs, wondering what it is, and what answers her nearly makes her jump. Hiding behind the smells of the marigold, and the fresh kill, is the undeniable scent of cat.

She sits up slowly, eyes fixated on the bushes. Surely this is too good to be true? she thinks. A rush of excitement bursts through her. It was like some omnipotent entity had heard her words, and sent whoever was hiding to her within a few heartbeats.

Nothing emerges. Perhaps she imagined it?

But then, a shape appears from the undergrowth. The shape of a cat. A young tom at that! Although the shadow of an overhanging tree obscures her view, that much is certain. She's just about to leap to her paws, dash out and greet him out of sheer relief, when another cat follows the tom out. An even younger she-cat.

She resists the inclination to leave the den, instead choosing to remain where she is. Such an abrupt introduction might scare them off. Anticipation makes her legs shudder, but she forces herself to stay still, waiting for the two cats to come out from the protection of the shadow. The she-cat is standing very close to her bigger and seemingly older counterpart, so much so that the outline of their bodies merge together in the dim light. Eventually, the tom summons up the courage to step forward. He places one small, tentative paw in front of him, before stopping once more. They continue like this for awhile, flirting with the alluring sight of the fresh kill and the dangers that may come with it.

At last, the two cats step out into the sunlight. The rays are caught behind their frames, illuminating them like a beam of hope. She can see them properly now. The tom is indeed more grown up, but still only just out of kithood. His fur is long, white and shaggy, covered in black splodges, with one forming a solitary ring around his eye. He holds his head high, giving off an aura of confidence, but his expression tells her that it's merely an act, one probably intended to reassure the cat by his side. She is still a kit, a fact made obvious by the light fluffiness of her pelt. It's a light brown colour throughout, and extremely clean and tidy. Their eyes catch her attention more than anything else. They share a shade of deep amber, so similar that despite their differences, it convinces her they must be related. Brother and sister maybe? she thinks. The only other thing they share is the fact that they are both incredibly thin. Half starved.

A smirk contorts the corner of her mouth as she begins to pad over to the entrance of her den. With luck, they wouldn't be thin for much longer.

Slowly, she ducks out into the clearing, allowing them to see her for the first time. Instantly, the she-cat yelps in fear, hiding behind the tom. His eyes widen in shock, but he stands his ground, bushing out his fur bravely. Their eyes meet, amber locked into her own. She senses fear. It radiates off both of them waves.

'Who are you?' he calls out.

She considers what the best thing to say back would be. Making sure they didn't become too unnerved was imperative. 'I'm here to help,' she replies smoothly.

He looks at the den behind her, and indeed, the prey. 'Do you live here?'

'Of course,' she says, deciding to risk a step closer. The movement earns her yet another little squeak from the she-cat. 'I haved lived for moons. Isn't it beautiful?'

He doesn't answer, and so she carries on, 'Many like you have come to this place. Loners, rogues and even the occasional lost Clan cat. And everytime someone has come, I have given them ample fresh kill to help them on their way and a warm nest to sleep for as long as they require.' She notices a change in their expressions at the mention of "Clan cat", and she adds, 'I am willing to extend that kindness to you.'

The silence from the tom continues for so long that she starts to regret making the suggestion of letting them stay so early. It doesn't last much longer. 'What's in it for you?' he questions, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

'The mere satisfaction of the knowledge that I have helped a cat in need,' she responds, with a tiny flourish of the tail.

The little she-cat lifts her head above the tom's shoulder, hopeful, but he doesn't look nearly as convinced. 'There's no reason we should trust you,' he says bluntly.

'Neither is there a reason why you should not.' She flicks her ears down towards his stomach. 'From the looks of things, you haven't eaten in awhile. I've got plenty to share.'

Their eyes meet once again. She can practically feel the tom probing her for any sign of a darker intention or ulterior motive for her generosity. Despite his age, he seems to possess a maturity far beyond his moons. The tall and dignified way he stands in front of the she-cat behind him shows a sense of determination to protect her. And yet, he is so clearly afraid.

'Look,' he murmurs. 'I'm not going to deny that we need food as fast as possible, but we're lost. All we wanna do is go home. Can you show us the way out of these woods?'

'It will be easier to talk about everything in my den,' she urges. 'We can do it over some nice, warm mice. How about that?'

He hesitates. The temptation of something to eat seems to be overwhelming his other instincts, but still, he adamantly refuses to make a decision. She taps the ground with her foreclaw impatiently. He'd better accept the offer soon if he knows what's good for him, she thinks.

All of a sudden, the she-cat makes her reappearance. She whispers something far too quiet to hear into his ear. He stiffens. They look at each other as if there isn't anything else in the entire world, and then, he presses his muzzle against hers. The older cat watches with vague curiosity. Some mutual knowledge unbeknowst to her seemed to have passed between them, mutual knowledge that she wasn't aware of.

'Alright. We'll come with you into your den,' he announces, after a pause.

She exhales loudly, relieved that she hadn't had to force them inside. 'I knew you'd see things my way!'

Spinning around and flashing them a smile, she begins to lead them back inside. They follow her closely, eyes darting around the whole time, searching for the invisible adversary ready to pounce. She almost smiles at the thought of how utterly oblivious they are. Like flies, caught in a spider's web.

As she leads them through the lichen entrance, she wonders about where they might've come from. They'd mentioned a home, so that ruled out the possibility of them being loners or rogues. Besides, they're just kits- surely they would still be living with their mother if they were. That leaves the options of either Clan cats or kittypets, and although they certainly don't look comfortable in the forest, they are far too feral-looking to be kittypets. She recalls how their faces lit up when she brought up the subject of the Clans. Yes, she's certain now. That's what they are.

She shrugs. What distance does it make where they're from? They're just two lost kits. No one cares about them, and no ones going to come looking for them. The reassuring thought soothes her: her whole body feels alight with exhilaration.

The interior of her den is considerably darker than the clearing, so much so that it takes even herself a moment to grow accustomed to it. The scent of dank and dusty things and places lies around them. The older she-cat steps forward towards her nest and takes a seat, staring at the kits as calmly as she could. They don't look particularly thrilled by the sight they behold.

'Take a seat,' she says.

The she-cat does so instantaneously, whereas the other takes a little more caution. Evidently, he's the one who has some sense.

She cricks her neck, and the now somewhat fake smile makes it's way back onto her face. 'Well, go ahead. Tell me everything.'

The tom clears his throat, like an elderly cat about to repeat a story. 'It's not exactly complicated,' he begins. 'My name is Badgerkit, and this is Hazelkit. We got lost two sunrises ago, just before nightfall. I wanted to see the territory outside the camp. The nursery was always so cramped, so confined, but there weren't any boundaries to the forest. Who wouldn't want to go?'

He glances at her, like he is daring her to disagree, but she is more puzzled than anything. Camp? Nursery? Are they Clan words?

'But I was so scared. I didn't want to go alone, and so... I invited my sister to come with me. No one was really watching us, so we just left straight through the entrance. The trees were so big and shadowy and intimidating, but it was still amazing.' He sighs, face turning sullen. 'But there were too many of them. We wandered too far away from the camp, and then we didn't know where we were.

'We didn't know what to do. We were lost and terrified, and away from ThunderClan for the first time. We didn't know how to hunt, or how to get back, so we did the only thing that we could have done. We keep walking. Walking and walking and walking. Walking for what felt like seasons-'

His voice brakes up. Both of the kits look completely inconsolable. They are staring at their paws, whiskers and tails drooping. If she wasn't planning on doing what was doing, she might even feel a little sorry for them.

Finally, Badgerkit finds the strength to speak again. 'But then, we found this place. The smell of prey was so strong that we had to come here. It was like a message from StarClan, saving our lives.'

Definitely Clan cats, she affirms to herself, before beaming at them. 'Oh, you poor things,' she says, mock sympathetically. 'I can see why you're so hungry. Go on then, grab some prey.'

They brighten up immediately. 'Oh, thank you so much!' Badgerkit exclaims.

They dash out, and return moments later with paws stuffed full of fresh kill. She invites them with a gesture of the tail to eat, and they dump their selection on the ground, and start to stuff their faces. They eat like dogs, ripping apart the dead animals limb from limb, and flesh fom bone. Meat disappears down their gullets faster than a crack of lightning, followed by a crescendo of loud and pleasureful purrs.

Bones of the finished prey start to drop the floor, one by one. The leg of rabbit, the paws of a mouse, the wings of a sparrow, picked of everything tender. The rotting carcass of one, horrible combination of forest prey begins to form. The sight reawakens something inside the older she-cat, something she missed more than anything.

She's hungry. So hungry. So very, very starving. And here are the little kits who will supplement her. Fresh and hot and juicy. A meal so desperately irresitable. How dare they tease her by feasting so heavily. How dare they!

How can she bare it? She needs to eat. She nees to eat now.

'Do you like your food?' she whispers, taking a tiny step closer.

'Oh yes,' Badgerkit replies, mouth full.

'Is it fresh?'

One step closer.

'Yes.'

'Is it hot?'

One step closer

'Yes.'

'Is it juicy?'

One step closer

'Yes, so wonderfully juicy.'

'Excellent,' she grins, now within a foxlength of Hazelkit. 'Just excellent.'

The little kit's eyes are closed, enjoying an especially large shrew. She chewes long and hard. The older she-cat shuffles even nearer, until she is situated just behind her tiny neck. Her body is so miniscule that the older she-cat thinks that one touch from her rapidly beating heart might punch a hole straight through her.

Slowly, she reaches forward, and gently sweeps her tongue over the space between Hazelkit's ears. The kit shows no sign of even noticing as a hundred different flavours entice her taste buds. It makes her mouth water.

She can no longer resist it.

She takes a bite.

And the screams carry on until sunrise.

Hope you enjoyed! Please RR. :P